RICK CASTRO: DIARY- 8/2/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 8/2/2020

Is there an art to solitude? 

That is the age old question. I’m going to challenge the idea that solitude during plague is something totally different from the rest of your lives, where perhaps going in and out of isolation is by choice. Self-isolation in now a world wide-twenty-four hour experience for everybody. Solitude is now the way of life. 

All social norms are forever outdated. We now have a new recluse culture which is forming on a daily basis, 
but for the most part failing.

During the middle ages there was a practice of the anchorite or anchoress who would seal themselves off from the world in a spiritual quest to become closer to god. Unlike hermits anchorites were required to take a vow of stability of place, opting for permanent enclosure in cells often attached to churches.

Another practice was one of widows who with the death of their husband, also lost their standing and fortune. They had no way to take care of themselves.  These widows came to be known as “recluse.”   The recluse would have carpenters create an oubliette next to the gravesite of the husband. There she would be sealed in a structure of bricks that would only accommodate the recluse seated in a chair…. for the rest of her life. One or two bricks would be left open, so passerby's or family could pass her food. With the current plague straight out of the middle ages will cultural extremes return as well?

Is there a difference between self-isolation and solitude? One is by choice and one is mandatory. Perhaps living with restrictions and quarantines is now opening up to the pleasures of solitude. Like a fine wine, loneliness ages one gradually. We become calmer and sweeter or flat and dry, like dust.

So let’s explore solitude. Let’s embrace and discover ourselves.

Ahhh solitude… I do wish you would fall in love with me, because you look so good.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro- 72020

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RICK CASTRO: DIARY- 7/31/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 7/31/2020

There is a tunnel at the end of the light!

I can see clearly now the pain has gone. All obstacles are in my way. 

Gone are the dark clouds that were in my mind. It’s gonna be a bright, bright, bright, sunshiny day.

 Each day is a new day, and each man kills the thing he loves.

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave and Frances Farmer will have her revenge.

I can envision a life without dolls…. as in, The Valley of….. 

 Today is the first day of the rest of my life!

Who can possibly believe that nothing will stop me now?! 

Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Nothing’s gonna change my world.

Nothing stands in my way. 

Nothing stands in my way.

Nothing stands in my way.

Nothing stands in my way.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

I’m gonna go out, I’m gonna get it, i’m gonna do it!

 I’m gonna get out, go out and do it! 

Each day is a new day and possibilities are endless. 

I keep knocking, but I can’t come in, I keep asking but you don’t know where I’ve been.

Can one be acid and tender?  Lovable as a smile…. Cruel as the bitterness of life.

Oh wait… I just went to pee and it burned like the Exorcist! I’m going back to bed… 

Fuck you!…  After all, tomorrow is another day.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro- 72020

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RICK CASTRO: DIARY- 7/30/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 7/30/2020

Me bro…..

I have a very long tumultuous relationship with my brother. It goes all the way back to 1962 when I was four years old, and he was seven. At that time he was my best friend, we did everything together. He was one of the few people I knew thus far in my short little life. We shared a bedroom together. I remember we would play bridges. He would hold his legs straight out and I would crawl on them to his bed, then I would hold my legs out and he would crawl to mine, all the while both of us wearing pajamas with feet. 

We were very creative in all the different antics we got up to. 

One of my earliest memories was waking up in the middle of the night to a “creature,” who’s origin I’ve never been able to place. 
It had big teeth and was growling. Something like a cross between a small Tyrannosaurs Rex and a demon. It definitely had a tail.

 I was going to chalk it up to another bizarre nightmare, until my brother shouted, “did you see that?!” YES!, what was that?! 
I confirmed. We had both witnessed a phenomenon at a young age. We both confirmed it happened as we screamed to our father, who just wrote it off as youngsters with wild imaginations. After all there was a book in that era called “Where The Wild Things Are, “ about a boy named Max who sees beasts and ogres in his bedroom during the night. We had both read it and loved it. 

Around this time, our relationship took a more sinister turn. One day in the back yard our black cocker spaniel with a white stripe down its forehead named Lightning, had just taken a dump. With a straight face me bro said to me, “step on that.” I looked at him incredulously and said, “NO!” Why would someone who was my friend ask me to do such a dirty thing? What motivation could this be. “Ok, Doink, (his condescending nick-name for me), don’t be such a baby.” “No!, I still insisted. “If you wanna be a baby, that’s fine with me. “ He turned to walk away dismissing me. If I didn’t do what he said, he would no longer give me his time. I no longer worth his energy. Feeling abandoned with as much mature clarity as a four year old has, which is none, I stomped my right Buster Brown shoe into the heap of brown mass created by Lighting. The feces engulfed my shoe, absorbingly it like the Blob in that 1958 Steven Mcqueen film. 

  

My older brother buckled up in laughter. He couldn’t contain himself and marveled at how he was able to command me to do what he said, no matter the consequences. 

My mother Bee came running over wearing her newest flowered apron. She was aghast as to why I would do such a thing, never once thinking to question my brother.  Bee reprimanded me, punished me and told my father who equally humiliated me as to how dumb I could be. My Buster Brown shoe was ruined. 

 At the wee age of four I learned the hard way never to trust or believe in anything my brother ever said to me again. He was corrupt. 

This order of control and dominance in all aspects of my family hierarchy, played out throughout my adolescents, teen years, 
early adult life, and now just plain old.

My feelings of confusion and not understanding what dynamic I was born into was confirmed by other family members, (as in cousins) who would state what I already knew, “Your brother acts like he’s the father, he acts like he’s in control and makes sure that you are always afraid of him.”

As old adults nothing has changed. Everything is the same, except now instead of wasting his time with commands to step on shit, 
he merely does everything in his power to amass and horde whatever family wealth there is, and call it his own.

A bully, is a bully, is a bully.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro- 72020

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RICK CASTRO: DIARY- 7/27/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 7/27/2020

When you're in pain there's a beauty to stillness.

Every little movement is grand. All energy is required. There’s something luring in having small movement, being in the same setting for a long period. The world becomes smaller, the radius becomes less, the place of establishment takes on the reminiscent of Polanski’s, The Tenet . 

There becomes a familiarity with limited surroundings; which become comfort, which is now the norm. Now all visualization is enhanced. Every heirloom and bric-a-brac has a memory, a history, a story within its place in the room. It is all so beautiful to observe. For a while…. For a very long time. There is no boredom in pain. It keeps you on your toes.

Like each drag from each cigar it is enjoyment….… and you want it to last. 

The only way to escape pain is to embrace it. You have to go deep… deeper than the pain will  take you into some very interesting places. Areas as to which you will find you have no way out, but that can be fun.

I want to make clear I am not a masochist.

I very much know the difference between wanted and unwanted pain. They are not the same. Pain as a feeling is just that painful. There is no romance to it. The exploration is where the enlightenment begins. To accept, to find ways around it, to enhance. The ability to stay in the same chair for a day, yet continue to see different things, in new ways. Sometimes as something you’ve seen for the first time. That's when the beauty comes in.

And then there's the surge of energy! 

To rearrange things, to remove dust and spruce things up a little. And you become a maniac with renewed energy doing multitasking. All at once you’ve become ambidextrous for a short amount of time, but then you can admire your work, be proud of your achievements. Now you can sit back in the family armchair where you’ve been sitting since…. Who can remember when….… And look at what you’ve accomplished! 

Nothing has been changed. It is all, and will always be PERFECT.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro- 7/2020

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RICK'S DIARY- 7/20/2020-

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 7/20/2020

I’m not gonna beat around the bush…. Amerikkka is in full revolution.

 It may not be the revolution one invokes like the civil war, but we are now in the depths of the beginning of revolution. Your life will never be the same. You will not have access to all the comforts from just one year ago. There will never be a stop to civil unrest. 

There will never be a stop to fascist police state. There will never be a stop to a 21st century dictator that is sooo plastic, corrupt, ruthless, banal and rotten to the core. 

Elections will not help you. Congress will not help you. Local governments that disguise themselves as “liberal," will not help you. 

You are on your own.

YOU decide to wear or not wear a mask. You decide if you’ll accept a police state. You decide if you’re ok with billionaires calling all the shots and holding all the wealth while you beg for stimulus. 

Do you have a good memory?

 Think about all the changes in the last 3 1/2 years. Has the quality of your life improved during Trumpworld? Do you have better confidences and admiration for your fellow citizens? Are you happier? 

Complacency is over. The non-reactive will be bulldozed over and they won’t even know it. They’ll be like, “as long as I have the newest iPhone and APPS I’m good.” Meanwhile their soul no longer belongs to them. They’ve gladly given it away to an Orwellian force in Amerikkka. Mass consumerism solves all depression and feeling of inadequacy. Look how much it’s helped Kanye West.

Today is my 62nd birthday… 

I’m back in LA recovering from prostate enlargement surgery. Ironically the same age my father had his same surgery thirty-seven years ago. 1983  was a very different era. His insurance covered everything including a hospital stay and nurses. I remember going to visit him when he had a tube in his dick, the way I have today. I remember he was in pain and complained about it over and over, like I am today. 

I remember he was not happy to see me because I brought him sunflowers. He was so taken aback by this gesture. He didn’t say anything but simply glared at me. What kind of man would bring another man flowers, would be the thought going thru his brick head. Yes, someone can be that thick to think that flowers from your son in hospital is “too gay.” 

I’m not recovering in a hospital, my 21st century insurance only covers outpatient with local anesthesia. I’m sooooo uncomfortable and grumpy. I AM IN SO MUCH FUCKIN PAIN! I have a fuckin tube in my dick for my 62nd birthday. I am not in a good mood.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro- 72020

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RICK CASTRO: DIARY- 6/8/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 6/8/2020

Have you ever seen that flick, The Exorcist? 

I rewatched the extended version, (released 2010) borrowed from my cousin Minguini, (not  his real name) on the outdated flatscreen Panasonic TV, one sunny afternoon in Bee’s cabin.

I saw the film when it first came out , (yes I’m that old) waaaay back in 1973. 

I was 14, so underage. My best friend Eric Heins hot-wired his mother’s 1964, Plymouth Valiant, (with push button gears) we ditched 5th & 6th periods so we could drive to Westwood to see it. We were very adventurous teens. He invited this girl he had a crush on, Carla Duran. She lived a few houses down from me. Carla wore John Travolta style suits with wide collars.  All the high-schoolers thought she was lesbian and were mean to her. Eric was fascinated with Carla and invited her everywhere. 

So the three of us drove from Monterey Park to Westwood which seemed like an eternity to get to when you’re fourteen. It was a whole other world with tall buildings, UCLA college campus and privilege. We waiting in line at the Alcove theater for over two hours. When we got close to the box office, Eric asked the 27 year old woman in front of us, wearing a corduroy midi dress and Frye boots, if she would say she was with us so we could get in. She obliged. 

The Exorcist, (1973) changed my life. I’d never seen a film that challenged religion in such a visceral way. Besides the obvious story line of demonic possession, good over evil and all that trite, the layers of subplots and background were deep. 

For example the director William Friedkin, at the very least, must be bisexual. He was married to Sherry Lansing and Jeanne Moreau. You can’t get gayer than that . He directed the cult classic, The Boys In The Band, (1970) perhaps the first mainstream film depicting gay men, with an almost all gay male cast. The actor that played Queenie Emery, (Cliff Gornan)  was straight. Good acting!  Friedkin directed The French Connection, (1971) which won him an Academy Award. Not usually my genre of film, (macho cop flick) but the fast pace Cinema vertie and action packed chase scenes were ground breaking. 

Writer William Peter Blatty wanted his neighbor Shirley Mclaine to play the lead, but William Friedkin was hesitant. Perhaps Ms. Mclaine was not that into the subject matter, so the role of Chris Macneil went to Ellen Burstyn. 

There’s a gay subtext throughout the film. The Lieutenant Kinderman, played by Lee J. Cobb, is obviously gay. He keeps hitting on Father Karras, portrayed by Jason Miller, when they initially meet, first comparing him to John Garfield, then invites him to the movies, Othello, no less. When Father Karras rebuffs him and sarcastically replies, “I’ve seen it.” Lt. Kinderman responds, “I lied, you look like Sal Mineo”. Lt. Kinderman gushes over Chris Macneil, the way queens gushed over Madonna in the 90s. In the last scene, (which was added in the 2010 re-release) Lt. Kiderman asks Father Dyer, (pronounced dire)  to the movies, “would you like to go with me to the Crest theater to see Wuthering Heights?”  “Who's in it?, asks Father Dryer. “Heathcliff portrayed by Jackie Gleason, in the role of Katherine, Lucille Ball,“ Lt. Kinderman replies full camp.  “I’ve seen it, Father Dryer responds drying. They then walk away arm in arm.

 In an earlier scene Father Dyer, (William O’Malley) puts a drunken Father Karras to bed, consoles him and removes his shoes. Father Karras Is having guilt-ridden mommy issues. Father Dyer is clearly in love with Father Karras. They may even be having an affair.  In the climatic scene where Regan, AKA the devil throws Father Karras down six flights of steps leading to M Street of Georgetown, Karras is left a shattered bloody mess. Father Dyer makes his way through the crowd and tearfully asks him, “do you want to make a confession?” 
Watch The Exorcist with modern eyes, you will see all the blatant gay subtext.

And of course there’s the full on camp portrayal of Linda Blair as Regan Macneil. Besides the demonic looks; a cross between Chuckie and Annabelle in a bad Coal Miner’s Daughter wig and frilly bedclothes, she’s constantly mouthing off the most amazing obscenities, voiced by screen legend, Mercedes McCambrige. If you want a complete lesbian camp study watch the film Johnny Guitar ,where Mercedes goes head to shoulder pad with a very macho Joan Crawford in cowboy drag.

mercedes mcambridge & joan crawford-johnny guiltar- 1954

When Dr. Klein, (Barton Heyman) examines Regan for the first time she responds, “keep your fingers away from my goddamn cunt.”  He prescribes Ritalin.

When a possessed Regan first meets Father Merrin, (Max Von Sydow) she greats him with the immortal line, “stick yer cock up yer ass, you mother fucking cock sucker.”

The conspiracy theory, subversive elephant in the room comes about during the scene of Angiogram tests Regan must go through with heavy metal medical equipment that look and sound like washing machines.  

The radiologist assistant is in only one scene. His lines are, “Regan, can you scoot over here… sit up please.. move over here just for a short time.”  The person playing this small role is a man named Paul Bateson. He is a non-actor, in fact is an actual radiologist assistant. He’s obviously gay in that bearded 70s kinda way. If you look at the scene in freeze frame, (which of course I did) he’s wearing a studded leather watch band. A subtle signal to other Leathermen of the era, similar to the hankie code or the green flowers of the Oscar Wilde era. Bateson is later credited as “consultant” in the cult classic film Cruising, also directed by Friedkin.

The very bizarre backstory; director William Freidkin watched Paul Bateson perform a cerebral angiography the previous year before production of The Exorcist. One must assume they were having an affair.  Bateson is then cast as his real life profession in the film.  

On September 14th, 1977, Variety writer Addison Verrill's  beaten and stabbed body was found in his apartment. Thru interviews and a call-in confession to The Village Voice, the police link the murder to Paul Bateson. He is arrested and charged with second degree murder.  In a story that ran on the Voice's front page, the caller, (Bateson) recounted the events of the night that ended in Verrill's murder. "I'm gay and I needed money and I'm an alcoholic", he said. After three months of sobriety, he claimed, he had gone out to Badlands, a Christopher Street bar, in the early hours of September 14 where Verrill, whom he did not know, offered to buy him a beer. That beer became several, with the two consuming poppers and cocaine in addition to the drinks. At 3 a.m., they left Badlands and went to the Mineshaft, where they continued their alcohol and drug consumption. The caller told  the voice writer he was impressed by how popular his companion was. "I didn't realize he was such a superstar, and I wanted to go home with him". After two hours, they took a taxi to Verrill's apartment. There the two had more alcohol and cocaine. The caller said that afterwards he realized that was as far as Verrill had wanted the relationship to go. "I needed money and I hated the rejection", so, still intoxicated, "I decided to do something I'd never done before". After incapacitating Verrill with a frying pan from his kitchen, the caller recounted, he stabbed the journalist with a knife, although he said he chose the wrong part of his chest. After the killing, the caller said, he took cash, totaling $57 ($240 in modern dollars) and Verrill's Master Charge card, passport, and some clothes. He used the money to buy liquor and was consequently drunk for the entire next day.  

  In a 2011 interview, director William Friedkin recalls meeting Bateson from both his initial visit to NYUMC and the filming of the angiography scene for The Exorcist, as a "nice young man” who stood out due to the earring and studded bracelet he wore, neither of which were common accessories for men at the time.” As a result of his relationship with Paul Bateson, director William Friedkin decided it was time to make the film adaptation of New York Times reporter Gerald Walker's 1970 novel Cruising. 

director jeffery schwarz-                                                   paul bateson- 

 On March 11th, 2020, (just a week before I fled to Bee’s cabin) director Jeffery Schwarz asked if he could interview me for a documentary he was directing about the leather scene and the film Cruising. On a rainy morning, at the home of Jeffery Schwarz, I spoke on camera about my admiration of the film, and then stunned Schwarz when I brought up my knowledge of Paul Bateson as the inspiration for the film. “How did you know this?, Schwarz asks incredulously. “I’m a fetish person, I politely replied, whatever I’m obsessed with I find out about.”   The following day I emailed director Jeffery Schwarz. Here are my messages and his responses-

Hallo Jeffery,

I'm so mad I was late! There was so much more I wanted to tell you.

Ok, here is the image of Paul Bateson. Maybe you’re insulted that I thought you looked like him… I didn’t mean it to be. Sorry!

The backstory is, when I watched The Exorcist way back in 1973-  I noticed him! Somehow my gaydar picked up that he was gay.

When youtube started posting all The Exorcist scenes and threads I became obsessed and found out all about him. This is how a fetish person works- the fixation leads to exploration- to gratification to enlightenment.

I'm a VERY good researcher. Please let me know if I can help in anyway.

BTW- what’s the name of your doco?

Hi, Rick - I emailed you yesterday to thank you for such a great interview. We got plenty of good stuff. And I’m not insulted at all - Paul was a good looking guy but not someone you’d want to bring home, obviously! The movie is currently titled MINESHAFT: THE CRUISING MURDERS. I hope we can get this done next year and I’ll keep you posted.

Best wishes,

Jeffrey

Hay Jeffrey,

Glad you’re not insulted about my comparison.

Ok wow- so the subject of the film is the murders and not the making of Cruising?

 At the time you told  me it was about the making of Cruising and the impact on the gay community. This new title sounds more mainstream and reality show driven. I really hope you don’t vilify the leather community. Paul Bateson was not part of it. He was not into leather, had a history of alcoholism, and as you know they didn’t even have sex. 

So there was no kink, just murder. 

Also they met at BADLANDS, (more of a dive bar) not The Mineshaft. They only went to The Mineshaft for a drink, so the premise of the title is incorrect.

sincerely,

rick castro

Art imitates life, imitating art. Then life inspires art, and a fib becomes a reality, which will become a doco about murder inspired by real life events that become art.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro- 6/2020

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