Monthly Archives:
January 2013
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January
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January
2013
26
January
2013
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January
2013
26
January
2013
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January
2013
A Surprise Trip to Washington
If all goes according to plan (and assuming a winter storm hasn’t dashed all my plans as it did for a Miami trip several years ago), I should be in Washington, DC at the time of this posting. (If it hasn’t gone according to plan, I’ll have to quickly put this post into the ‘Drafts’ folder and hold onto it for another time.) The reason I haven’t written about this excursion to DC is because I’m hoping to surprise my friend Chris, whom I haven’t seen in about a year. With the help of his girlfriend, we’re hoping to pull the old Las Vegas switcheroo and shock him at dinner. Depending on whether my flight gets in, and Darcey and I can pull this off, it should be a fun time.
When plotting out possible events for the weekend, I told Darcey that my only real goal this time around was to stop by the Botanical Gardens, because I need a dose of tropical greenery, a quick piece of tranquility in this blustery season. Last year when I was in DC, it was brutally cold, and I’m not expecting much of a difference this time. It will take another month or two before it starts feeling Spring-like, and while patient folks may have waited until then to make the trip, I just couldn’t. It’s been too long.
So here I am, writing this in hopeful anticipation that I make it down there, thinking good thoughts and praying that Mother Nature will be kind. It would be good to see my old friends again…
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January
2013
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January
2013
Friday Night Fun
Just hanging with a few good friends on this Friday night. Nothing too special, though their diets are weird. Gluten-free is one thing, but bamboo and insects? That sounds harsh for the hardiest stomach. But to each their own, and if it makes you happy…
I must draw the line at sharing living quarters though. This ain’t fairy tale theater, I’m not Elizabeth McGovern, and I’m much too old to wiggle my way into a hole in the ground. Still, it might be nice living with a panda. They seem peaceable enough. My lone patch of Fargesia nitida wouldn’t last very long though. What to do, what to do…
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January
2013
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January
2013
Where I Lay Down, Where I Wake Up
I’m getting up extra early this morning, for reasons that will be explained later, and this is the hardest time of the year to do that. It’s bad enough there’s nothing but darkness, but factor in the cruel temperatures and there is nothing worth getting out of a warm, cozy bed like the one pictured here. That’s the bitter pill of the Northeast – it’s not the snow or wind or ice – it’s the dark mornings. They make the simple act of waking up an onerous one, something that requires great mental fortitude and preparation. It used to be that thinking of the new outfit I’d be wearing, or a dinner out, would be enough to get me to throw off the covers and head into the shower. Now, it takes a bit more, which is unfortunate, as there seems to be nothing but less. Motivation is in short supply, and the winter has a way of sucking out the last remnants of energy or will.
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January
2013
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January
2013
Get the Tissues Out
This may not make everyone cry, but it certainly moved me to tears. You don’t have to watch the whole thing – the first ten minutes are enough for one viewing, and then you can come back for more when you’ve re-grouped. The second installment, at about ten minutes in, deals with bullying though, so it’s worth taking in. And the third part – when the class comes together to defend one of their own who has gotten in trouble with the teacher, will pummel the hardest heart. I can’t even type about the fourth section (where I had to stop it for the second time because, well, I just couldn’t.) But as much as you may cry, in the end you’ll be happy you watched it. And the goal of this fourth grade class – and of life – is simply to be happy.
“Empathy is the greatest thing. There’s an expression I love: “Let people live in your heart.” There’s no limit on numbers. They tell the stories, and everyone shares their feelings. When people really listen… they live in your heart forever. That’s the great significance of these notebook letters.” ~Â Mr. Kanamori
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January
2013
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January
2013
A Pair of Capitol Reviews
One of my spring options for getting out of dodge is Washington, DC. I haven’t been there in about a year, so it might be time. Here’s a pair of reviews from my Trip Advisor contributions – both for fine lodging options ~ The Mandarin Oriental and The Dupont Circle Hotel:
From the gorgeous lobby, to the perfectly appointed rooms, the Mandarin Oriental is an exquisite hotel for when you’re looking for something special. I was lucky enough to stay for a wedding and got the wedding rate – not sure how exorbitant it might be otherwise, but for a splurge, and the impeccable service and sundries that go along with it, it’s not a bad deal. Easily the best part is the staff, who were accommodating with an early check-in, and oversaw every detail and question – from cabs and directions, to complimentary fruit bowls and artisanal chocolates, to a bookmark on the book I left beside the bed. That sort of attention to detail, and the anticipation of pleasing a customer, is never unappreciated. Room is nicely laid-out, and the king-size bed was comfortably adorned, but it was the marble bathroom that is truly impressive – immense and expansive, it was a spa-like experience in itself. The shower and bath amenities were nicely selected, and generously proportioned – enough for two people to use twice during a day, and helpfully replenished for both the bath and the shower area.
Additionally, while never a big spa person, I decided to try the facilities here since the Mandarin has been so widely touted as having such luxurious spa amenities. And they were absolutely well-deserved. A pristine and grand swimming pool surrounded by several large circular settees provided a perfect respite from the outside world, while the sauna and steam-room were clean and perfectly kept. The showers were elegant, and the entire atmosphere instilled a sense of peace and calm, from the comfortable low-lighting, to the ambient soothing music. I would go back for the spa alone. The wedding was held in one of the spacious ballrooms, and this too was perfect – sumptuous, yet elegantly restrained and refined. All in all, a wonderful stay at an excellent establishment, highly-worthy of all its accolades.
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If there’s one thing you want on one of the windiest and coldest nights Washington, DC has seen this year, it’s a heated bathroom floor. Having never had the pleasure of experiencing one until my recent stay at the Dupont Circle Hotel, I can whole-heartedly say it is a life-changing experience. The rest of the hotel offered a similar eye-opening pleasure, starting with the friendliest hotel staff I’ve come across in a long while.From the doorman to the check-in clerks to the ever-present Concierge, everyone was exceptionally, and genuinely, attuned to the needs and comforts of their guests. Service in the attached Bar Dupont and Café Dupont would prove just as gracious later on in the stay, but for the first impression, the hotel staff made check-in a pleasure, even for a disheveled traveler straight off the plane and Metro.
The Dupont Circle Hotel manages the tricky balance of blending a very modern and chic style with an elegant warmth. So many hotels sacrifice the inviting and welcoming for the cold and clinical in the name of being cutting-edge. This is that rare breed that successfully melds contemporary panache and classic comfort (and I seriously cannot extol the virtues of that impressive heated bathroom tile floor enough).
The room itself is expansive, with an almost-open bathroom plan that makes impressive use of strategically-placed frosted glass. It’s sufficiently private for those who are shy, yet open to the extent that it adds dramatically to the open-space feel of the room.
One of the successful design tricks the hotel uses to great effect is the varying textures found throughout – a suede-like gray wall covering in the hallways, a glossy dark burlap-like texture backing the bed, a cream-colored leather chaise, the smooth marble walls of the bathroom, the mottled dark stone of the floor – it all works together to embrace and cushion, so the whole experience is one of sensual delight and constant discovery. From the crimson ginger and anthurium blossoms of the lobby to the fiery velvet pillows on the bed, there are judiciously-placed pops of color that set this space apart from so many modern rooms and their unwavering beige/brown/black palettes.
Oddly enough, most hotels today make rudimentary use of the most important piece of design – the lighting – settling for standard floor and table lamps, and one lonely entry-way ceiling light. The Dupont Circle Hotel offers a variety of lighting sources, and, perhaps most important, a dimmer switch on the extensive but never overbearing overhead spots. While one bedside reading lamp was not working, it seemed a small issue in the overall scheme.
There is an electric ‘do not disturb’ light that goes on when you lock the door (that also illuminates the room number outside your door) – unless the light isn’t working, which in this case made for an earlier-than-wished-for knock from housekeeping, but other than that the experience was perfect.
As the winds barreled down and the snow squalls swirled, it was easier to stay on-site and check out the popular Bar Dupont (loud and crowded, but bustling with happy revelers) and the Café Dumont (better than standard hotel fare, with a French twist). I would definitely stay here again, without hesitation. (And did I mention the heated bathroom floor? Good, because it bears repeating.)
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January
2013
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January
2013
Winter in My Childhood Backyard (Accompanied by Barbra Streisand)
A coupe of years ago, while I was working on the Bardo: A Dream Surreal project, I spent the night at my childhood home. My parents were away for the weekend – this was before the twins arrived and they still got away for weekends. The day was cold, and I stopped by my brother’s house to say hello and get sundaes from Fariello’s. When I returned to the house, it was already dark. I shot a few photos for the project – a candelabra was involved, throwing flickering shadows down the hallway and up the stairs. Had I not grown up in the house, I would have been rather frightened by being there alone. As it was, I knew it well, but there is still something scary about being in a house all alone on a cold night in January.
I turned on the television. ‘The Way We Were’ was just starting. Now, gay men of a certain age please turn away, I’ve never been a big Barbra Streisand fan. I’m just not. Yes, she can sing, yes, she can act, yes, she can direct. I’m simply not impressed by much of it. That said, many people have told me that I just need to sit through one of her movies to witness the magic. While I could admit a certain fondness for ‘Funny Girl’ (mostly because of the costumes and that train case), that’s where my time with Ms. Streisand ended.
Yet on this lonely night, when the cold threatened to drive me under the covers and into the darkness, I threw myself onto my parents’ bed and watched the story starring Ms. Streisand and a very youthful Robert Redford unfold. Circumstances and surroundings conspired to put me in the perfect mood for this movie, and I must confess to being moved by it, and some of the music. It took me out of the darkness and into another world, the way only the best movies manage to do. I forgot about any fear in my heart, or anything lurking in the rest of the dark house, and I followed these two characters as they made their way to California and back.
I went to bed comforted, and content. Snow fell during the night, muffling the house from any outside noise. I awoke and shoveled the driveway quickly, then went back to my own home.
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January
2013
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January
2013
The Madonna Timeline: Song #83 ~ ‘Falling Free’ – Winter 2013
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
When I move a certain way, I feel an ache I’ve kept at bay
A hairline break that’s taking hold, A metal that I thought was gold,
And pure so sure it struck a vein, I wanted you to feel the same,
So when you did ignite a spark, Rescue me from all this dark,
See our hearts are intertwined, Then I’m free, free of mine,
I’m falling free…
A non-traditional Madonna Timeline entry, as I have yet to make a memory that corresponds with ‘Falling Free’… or perhaps I’m making that memory now. Across the stark, barely-snowy landscape, an equally stark string of piano notes rings out. In this winter of so much discontent, I yearn to be free too. In the remnants of relationships once held so dear, in the aftermath of battles fought long and hard, I seek some sense of understanding, some reason for why, but nothing comes of it. I draw closer to Andy then, as much as I can, but even he only lets me so near.
See our hearts are intertwined,
And then I’m free, I’m free of mine.
Deep and pure our hearts align,
And then I’m free, I’m free of mine.
The song contains an almost Gaelic lilt, and suddenly I’m transported back to Ireland, to the day when the clouds parted and the rolling hills were redolent in wild, vivid, acid green. A precarious kissing of the Blarney Stone, a perilous spiral of stone stairs, and a lonely walk along a stream comprised the day. A solitary swan swam in the lake behind our little hotel – a single spot of white amid the slate and blue-gray water. Pebbles on the beach, and a long black coat billowing behind me. The other side of the ocean, half a world away.
When I raise the certain wing, And crawl beneath that growing thing,
It throws a shadow over time, And keeps yours falling next to mine.
Your days were meant to fly and do, I fall and fold mine into you,
And what you take is just enough, And what you give is what I love.
And when you lift you raise the sail, And then I’m free, free to fail.
I’m falling free…
She sings of the intertwined, the once-bound, and the newly-free. She speaks of herself, she speaks of him, she speaks of me. I think back on all the couples who were together when Andy and I first met, how I looked with wonder on them, and how, slowly, day by day, and year by year, some fell apart. What fickleness, love today. What ease, what hurt, what pain, what apathy. What clean-cut mess, what nasty cleaving.
Deep and pure our hearts align, And then I’m free, I’m free of mine
When I let loose the need to know, Then we’re both free, we’re free to go.
When I lose a certain claim that tries to know and needs to blame
Whatever river runs aground, It turns my head and washes down
The face of God that stands above pouring over Hope and Love
That all of might, and life, and limb could turn around and love again
When I let loose the need to know, Then we’re both free, free to go
I’m falling free…
No longer like a prayer, this is a prayer – an incantation – begging for salvation, for hope, for something to be set free. For something to fall. If you listen closely, if you know her voice inside and out, if you’ve heard it almost every day for the last twenty five years, you will hear a difference. Madonna’s instrument – recently ravaged by a head-cold, or maybe just the advancement, once so cruel, of fifty-four years of living, has changed ever so slightly. Deeper, raspier in sound, worn and a little frayed, it bespeaks both splendor and ruin. Every last one of us is getting older. We are all moving in that one direction. Closer to death. Closer to freedom.
At 3:36 then, the magic of William Orbit. The origin of ‘Ray of Light’, one might say her ultimate rebirth, echoed in the delicate music, moving, like she constantly does, but not quickly, not like light, but fluid like water – undulating, pulsating, ebbing like life – like waves on a distant shore. There it ends ~ without fanfare, without release, without definition ~ hanging in the air, like the quick notes of spring on the wings of a brief thaw, gone by the morning.
Deep and pure our hearts align
And then I’m free, I’m free of mine
When I let lose the need to know
Then we’re both free, we’re free to go.
Song #83″ ‘Falling Free’ – Winter 2013
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January
2013
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January
2013
Daydreaming From Bed
It’s been way too long since I’ve been in a hotel room. I think the last was The Out in New York, and that was way back in November. In other words, I’m drying to get out and stay somewhere away from home. The heightened hospitality, coupled with the clinical sterility speaks to me in a way that no other juxtaposition can muster. The anonymity is appealing too, the way you can get lost amid the nameless faces and cookie-cutter bodies.
Several fantasies have presented themselves in my head – the first being some secluded wintry get-away at a ski lodge. Not that I’d have anything to do with skiing – I simply want to lounge around by a cozy fireplace, sipping some brown liquor, and wearing a sweater that borders on the ridiculous. The second involves a longer journey – a warm, sunny, secluded beach where the water is turquoise and the cocktails come with colorful umbrellas. The third is even further – the West Coast – somewhere in California, where complaints of a cold-spell mean it went down to fifty degrees at night. It’s been too many years since I was in San Francisco… and San Diego… and I’ve never even been to Los Angeles.
This is how to get through the Winter. Mind games. Daydreaming. Fantastical adventures plotted loosely out, maybe even a look-see on Expedia or Hotwire, even if you know it will never come to anything. Isn’t this how we all survive? Caviar dreams and a lust for the lottery – the Death of a Salesman suddenly not so far off. We try to be so vital to so many, and it’s so easy to fail. For now, though, everything is possible. We’ve already plunged through a full month of the season, and it would be foolish to give up after that. See this one through. Come Fall, we’ll talk again. We’ll dream again. We’ll make it all come true.
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January
2013
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January
2013
Lip Syncing For Her Life
Do I care that Beyonce lip-synced the National Anthem at the Presidential Inauguration? Not really. I do somewhat mind that I was duped, as I proclaimed my love prematurely on Twitter, saying that I was a new fan based on that performance – but in the end I’m relieved because now I can go back to not being a fan, which is always where I’ve stood regarding Ms. Knowles. (Or is it Ms. Z?) Anyway, I can’t pass too much judgment, as I recall some killer performances being lip-synced in service of production – but that didn’t seem to be the case here where understatement and honesty were the marks of the scene. We’ll see what Beyonce does for her own Super Bowl performance. She’s got a tough act to follow, and I don’t envy anyone having to fill those heels.
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January
2013
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January
2013
Hazy Shade of Winter
The first proper LP I ever got not counting kids’ stuff (and I’m talking true LP of the vinyl persuasion) was the Bangles’ ‘Different Light’. It was my introduction to pop music, and a finer one I cannot think of. In the mid-eighties, just as I was entering my adolescence, the Bangles sang ‘Manic Monday’ and ‘If She Knew What She Wants’ and ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ and I could do nothing but give myself over to the saccharine melodies and nutra-sweet harmonies. But this post is not about that record, nor any of those songs. This post is about a later song: their cover of a Simon & Garfunkel tune, ‘Hazy Shade of Winter’.
Time, time, time, See what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities
I was so hard to please…
Look around, leaves are brown, and the sky is a hazy shade of winter…
Several years after bopping about to a different light, I took a turn into darker territory, and the rocking richness of this song. Winter-themed, cold and cruel in its poetic lyrics, it provided a soundtrack to the maelstrom of emotions that growing up and letting go stirred so violently. I just remember being angry, feeling trapped, and wanting only to run away. I bounded down the stairs, taking the last six or seven in one vicious jump, pounding down as hard as I could, daring the floor to open up and take me into its bowels.
I ran from a house where no one could understand me – no… worse – I ran from a house where nobody cared to understand me. I ran from those who did not care to listen, from those who would never listen, from those who only wanted me to shut up and be silent. I ran from the secrets and the shame and the lies, from all that ever did hurt me and from all that ever would hurt me. At the top of the street I stopped to catch my breath. Without a coat, without a hat, without a pair of gloves, my breath heaved forth in gusts of light gray. Water ran from my eyes, from cold or hurt I could not tell. My ears burned red, and I didn’t dare to cup them with my hands. Slowly, I was freezing ~ shutting down, waiting to limp, and then fall, and then break.
I looked down at the house where I grew up. It appeared smaller from the top of the street, just another house in the row that lined the road. I pictured summer again, when the trees would be covered in green, when the lawns would be verdant and soft. I imagined the scent of sweet flowering shrubs carried on a breeze simultaneously tinged with the fancy of freshly-mown grass. And then I saw the day that actually was – this dismal day of early January, maybe even the first of the year, starting everything off so wrongly.
Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won’t you stop and remember me?
When there’s nothing left to do, and you’ve exhausted all possibilities, you can always run. Even if you don’t get very far, the act of running can, for a moment, save you. It can put you off from doing something you might regret. It can stop you from saying something you shouldn’t say. It can force your body to focus on anything but the pain surging through your heart. On that day, at the brutal beginning of another winter, I ran… and ran… and ran… until I didn’t hurt any more.
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January
2013
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January
2013
After A Decade, Indulgence
One of the traits that has brought me closest to sanity is my ability to rarely indulge in looking back and re-examining things that have happened in the past. This year, however, after a decade of this website, I’ve allowed a little more of it. It turns out that looking back a year ago is much more interesting than looking back at last week. You can do the same (even if I haven’t quite updated all the past posts just yet – there are simply too many) by scrolling down to the bottom of this page and looking under the ‘Archives’ button, which will drop down and allow you to select one lucky month from the past… For this post, I’m digging back exactly one year ago – to January 2012:
- Back then I wanted one thing, and I still want it, so if you need a Valentine’s Day gift for me (ahem) this robe (monogrammed and in Size Medium) will do nicely.
- Gearing up for a trip to NYC, a musing on my love of hotels was followed up by posts that celebrated and reviewed that ‘Follies’ fueled weekend.
- The discovery of the perfection of the pomegranate.
- A wintry Madonna Timeline, all the way back to 1987, when she first taught me to open my heart.
- And the memory of a favorite Uncle, surfacing in the painting of a bedroom.
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January
2013
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January
2013
Classic Shot Series ~ Wonka, Willy
Another series of shots from ‘The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale’ in honor of our tenth anniversary. I’m still torn about putting that particular Project up – it’s one of those that people either loved or hated, and I’m tired, which means that the haters would annoy me more than usual. For now, just a quick glimpse, Willy Wonka style, even though I’ve never seen the movie – original or Burton redux.
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January
2013
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January
2013
Week in Review
The wild winds of January returned in full-force this past week, plunging us into the depths of sub-freezing temperatures and reminding us that winter in the Northeast is anything but a cake walk. Fortunately, there was solace to be found in the more superficial pleasures, and some of the deeper ones as well.
- One of the best ways to make it through the wilderness when the cold is knocking at your door can be found in a classic winter cocktail – in this case the Manhattan.
- Â The most touching pair of photographs I’ve seen this year – and in quite some time – courtesy of these simple, but powerfully-juxtaposed pics from Wayne & Cody. More on them to come in the near future.
- Â It was my Mom’s Birthday, and we threw a celebration dinner at our home.
- Â The Project spotlight shone on the The Circus Project from April of 2008.
- A question since the dawn of modern time arose again: who’s the sexier footballer – Ben Cohen or David Beckham?
- Speaking of football – this time the American version – I had a frank talk with my brother (prior to the game) of the match-up between the Patriots and the Ravens.
- The parade of Hunks of the Day continued, with the multi-faceted talents of Benjamin Godfre,  the bountiful and beautiful booty of Will Wikle, the hairy-chested realness of Mark Ruffalo & the elegantly age-defying Dermot Mulroney.
- And the week closed out rather woefully with Justin Bieber pulling down his pants and exposing his barely-legal bare butt for all of the Instagram world to see. In other words, I’m glad this one’s in the history books.
