Monthly Archives:

April 2015

It’s Just A Little Crush

I don’t know much about girls, but I know what it’s like to have a crush, and that’s what’s speaking to me in this song by Little Big Town. ‘Girl Crush’ is really about being envious of the girl who has everything, including the guy. More than that, though, it’s one of those spring songs that cracks through the cruelty of winter and offers a ray of hope to render the heart raw and tender.

Spring has that power, and when aided by an evocative song like this, it turns everything into emotional flotsam and mental debris. Obsession and longing, wanting and desire ~ these are themes that informed my early life, and as I ease into middle-age, I look back and remember how they changed my world, in ways both destructive and delicious.

I was never one to do something in a half-assed way. Even my crushes would be epic. Sometimes all it took was a quick throw-away smile that I caught on the fly, some small insignificant gesture of simple kindness or matter-of-fact decency. I  collected such meaningless trifles, imbuing them with all sorts of nonsensical backstories and symbolic import, erecting the grandest sandcastles from the flimsiest shambles of carelessness.

I fell for boys who glanced over my head, but tripped over my pile of bones. I stepped in their way and refused to be ignored. I wrote them love letters and made them mix tapes and felt so strongly that they were meant to love me back that I was blind to how little I mattered. How could all that I felt for them mean so little? How could they not feel anything?

They were mad crushes. Mad in every sense of the word. Crazy, some would say. They made no sense, and for someone whose every move was intricately planned-out and deliberately choreographed, the wilderness into which my heart wandered was foreign and thrilling, and it scared the shit out of me. It made me sad too. I cried a lot, over a lot of people who never even noticed. That sort of lonely terror is something you never forget. Yet it gave me a sliver of strength, some inner-structure like the steel ribs of a corset that pained and protected. Those crushes destroyed me, but I rebuilt myself, again and again, until, phoenix-like, the burning no longer stung and the ashes were no longer bitter.

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All I Have to Give

In the midst of a wild week, I received a very touching message from a FaceBook friend in Baltimore yesterday afternoon:

“Thanks for your blog and facebook page last night. I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t been keeping up with you (sorry to admit). After 3 hours of watching unbelievable riots, fire, and human injury just outside my door on TV, I turned to you for some lusty pictures, some laughs, and even a little drama. It was a rough night here in Baltimore (and I fear it’s far from over), but thanks for lightening things up for a while. You are appreciated.”

There, suddenly and unexpectedly, was a little bit of grace, from the silly and sometimes-sordid entries conjured on this blog. It moved me in a way that people who have known me for ten years don’t always manage to do. Maybe it was more touching coming from a stranger. Maybe it was the surprise of it. Maybe it was just a human being reaching out to another human while feeling trapped in the middle of an upsetting moment.

Whatever the case, I am grateful. It reminded me to be a little kinder in my everyday life. I need those reminders from time to time, and I will do my best. This blog isn’t going to change anyone’s life, much less the world, but in its own way may it provide amusement, escape, and enjoyment in a world that’s crumbling around us.

Thank you, David, for reminding me that everyone has a voice, and a story, and a way to touch the world.

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Zac Efron, Practically Nude

A man needs to know his best assets, and here’s a man who clearly does. Zac Efron has been naked here before, so while it shouldn’t be a big deal, these photos, from a movie in which he’s supposed to be naked, by rights should not be anything special. Yet somehow they are, so feast your eyes one more time upon the almost-naked form of Mr. Efron. No stranger to nudity, and certainly not to shirtlessness, Efron gives a bit of both, in nude-hued briefs and a strategically-placed stuffed animal. He’s still hiding the good bits, but I can respect that. A girl has to leave something to the imagination.

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Tom Ford vs. Diana Vreeland

The battle for spring fragrance dominance is about to be waged, as Tom Ford’s latest Private Blend, Fleur de Portofino, goes head-to-fragrant-head with Diana Vreeland’s Smashingly Brilliant.

Ford’s latest Portofino addition (a line already established with Neroli Portofino, Mandarino di Amalfi and Costa Azzurra) reportedly includes notes of bergamot, citrus, osmanthus, acacia blossom and acacia honey. The latter two ingredients seem to provide the difference from the other Portofino flavors. According to the literature ‘Fleur’ is “inspired by the cascades of white flowers that spill off the branches of the White Acacia— a beloved shade tree that dots the Mediterranean’s gardens and lines its tranquil avenues. Fleur de Portofino creates a crisp and bright floral accord from this bloom, then surrounds it with effervescent citrus and acacia honey. The fragrance creates an effect of sheer floral possession that is incomparably hypnotic and extremely bold.”

Early reviews have indicated this is a very floral frag, and floral scents are not my favorite, so I’m not placing all my eggs in this Tom Ford basket just yet. Rather, I’m giving another Diana Vreeland offering, ‘Smashingly Brilliant’ a look-see, or smell-see as the case may be.

The House of Vreeland’s new summer  scent is said to contain bergamot, geranium, lemon, and suede accord. I tend to favor bergamot for this time of the year, and citrus is usually an integral part of any spring/summer fragrance. It’s not always lasting, but neither is spring. ‘Brilliant’ sound quite promising: “Smashingly Brilliant, created by Clement Gavarry, was inspired by Mrs. Vreeland’s love for the island of Capri. A play on contrasts, the fragrance combines the zesty freshness of citrus notes with a deep textured background. The burst of Lemon Oil and Calabrian Bergamot Oil is enhanced with aromatic notes of verbena, basil, and juniper berries. A luxurious heart of Geranium Lemon Living creates a bridge to the sensual dry down of suede accord and enveloping woods, offering a trail of mysterious depth and raw elegance.”

Capri or Portofino… it’s a beautiful dilemma. The battle for summer has begun.

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The Flourish Dramatic: A Recap

Before dimming the lights, I light a tobacco-scented candle. The pleasant notes are almost enough to make me reconsider investing in the Tobacco Vanille Private Blend by Tom Ford. Almost. I slide a wordless mix of unobtrusive ambient music into the CD player. The water of the shower beats down, and steam rises on this unseasonably cold evening. It’s Sunday night, and after a week filled with job changes, Cape Cod birthday shenanigans, and my Dad breaking his arm (with a “terrible triad” fracture), I am looking for peace. I suppose in that respect this week is just like any other. Let’s dive back into the Floating World of this website and escape for one more moment before Monday begins again.

A fit and toned Andy Cohen found freedom from his shirt on a recent trip to Miami.

Dit-dit-dit-dit-a-lini.

If things seem to be on auto-pilot here of late, hang on just a little bit longer. There are good things to come.

Male models dominated the Hunk of the Day posts, including Erasmo Viana (pictured), Lucas Bernardini, Chris Arno Williams and Jakub Stefano,

What’s your T?

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall…

A very hunky Sunday, and a glimpse of a nude Ryan Guzman.

It’s that time of the year again: prom season!

Once upon a time, I lived and loved in the Floating World.

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April Showers, Boston Flowers

For a while it felt like spring might never arrive, but it always does, and it always will. Here is the proof for this year. It’s still taking its time, but spring is one thing I’d rather not rush.

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Returning to the Floating World

I must say I find it hard to understand how any man who values his self-respect would wish for long to avoid responsibility for his past deeds; it may not always be an easy thing, but there is certainly a satisfaction and dignity to be gained in coming to term with the mistakes one has made in the course of one’s life. In any case, there is surely no great shame in mistakes made in the best of faith. It is surely a thing far more shameful to be unable or unwilling to acknowledge them.” ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

For indeed, a man who aspires to rise above the mediocre, to be something more than ordinary, surely deserves admiration, even if in the end he fails and loses a fortune on account of his ambitions… if one has failed only where others have not had the courage or will to try, there is a consolation – indeed, a deep satisfaction – to be gained from this observation when looking back over one’s life. ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

I suspect the reason I couldn’t celebrate the floating world was that I couldn’t bring myself to believe in its worth. Young men are often guilt-ridden about pleasure, and I suppose I was no different. I suppose I thought that to pass away one’s time in such places, to spend one’s skills celebrating things so intangible and transient, I suppose I thought it was all rather wasteful, all rather decadent. It’s hard to appreciate the beauty of a world when one doubts its very validity

But I’ve long since lost all such doubts… When I am an old man, when I look back over my life and see I have devoted it to the task of capturing the unique beauty of that world, I believe I will be well satisfied. And no man will make me believe I’ve wasted my time. ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

I have learnt many things over these past years. I have learnt much in contemplating the world of pleasure, and recognizing its fragile beauty. But I now feel it is time for me to progress to other things… it is my belief that in such troubled times as these, artists must learn to value something more tangible than those pleasurable things that disappear with the morning light. It is not necessary that artists always occupy a decadent and enclosed world. My conscience tells me that I cannot remain forever an artist of the floating world. ~ Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World

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Hella Cute

A simple story like this is sometimes enough to bring a tear to the eye and re-affirm my belief in humanity. A very cool straight guy, Jacob Lescenski, just asked his best friend Anthony Martinez, an openly gay guy, to the prom. This would have been unthinkable when I was prom age, and it’s thrilling to see it happen in my lifetime.

Friends ask friends to the prom all the time – hell, I once took a girl to her prom when there was clearly no romantic interest on either side, and it was one of the best nights I ever had – so to see a gay guy/straight guy friendship take such a matter-of-fact turn is some way no big deal. In another way, it is huge, and it has me grinning from ear to ear. Thank you to Jacob Lescenski and Anthony Martinez to showing the world what it means to be a friend and an ally.

A straight ally is a heterosexual man or woman who has contributed in some way to fostering equality for all human beings, particularly in regards to battling homophobia, ending discrimination, and supporting marriage equality. A straight ally fights for human rights, especially those denied gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people, with the knowledge that to deny equality to one segment of the population is to diminish all of us as human beings.

It’s not enough to stand alone, because no matter how tall one may stand this sort of social revolution will not be accomplished by one person. It will take a collective effort from all of us – gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, male and female – and change ~ true, lasting, meaningful change ~ can only begin with understanding and kindness, friendship and love.

We stand on the precipice of something great – a moment that matters. We have in our reach the power to make a difference, to make a change, to make the world a better place – whether that’s in something as simple as a shared laugh, or as deeply felt as a new way of thinking about what you may hold closest to your heart.”

UPDATE: An even happier ending than one could have imagined. Check out a video encapsulating this entire moving experience. Simply awesome.

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I Won’t Shed A Tear

If you’re lucky enough to watch a classic movie when you’re the same age as some of the protagonists, it can be a life-affirming moment. There are three examples of this for me: ‘Adventures in Babysitting,’ ‘The Goonies,’ and ‘Stand Be Me.’ The latter is probably the most moving of the three (even if ‘Goonies’ will always be my favorite.) I was reminded of its greatness when Tracy Chapman performed this wondrously stripped-down version of the Ben E. King masterpiece:

When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we’ll see
No, I won’t be afraid
Oh, I won’t be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me
Stand by me
I think it happened around this very time of the year. My brother and I had spent the day and the early part of the evening playing an epic game of hide-and-seek at a friend’s house. Exhausted but not sated from that adventure, we popped in a video and hunkered down into a fluffy bed to watch. ‘Stand By Me’ began, and Rob Reiner’s take on Stephen King’s coming of age novella instantly entranced us. Back then, we were lucky enough not to have been touched by the themes of loss that now seem so apparent to me. We only cared about the adventure – the freedom of being away from your parents, your hometown, your school, and all the social boundaries that came with them. We courted and craved similar excitement and similar freedoms. It was easy to long for such thrills when you had a more or less safe childhood.
If the sky, that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won’t cry, I won’t cry
No, I won’t shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
And darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me
Stand by me
The movie was also a subtly-complex treatise on boyhood friendships – the ones that lasted, and the ones that didn’t – and always the importance of those shared moments. To this day, I remember that night with a friend I’ve long since lost touch with, and a brother I sometimes wonder if I ever knew. I mourn and celebrate a childhood that was ordinary in so many ways, average in ways I often wish it wasn’t, and extraordinary at just a few sacred moments – and that night was one of them.
The television glowed in the room, the only light as midnight approached. My brother and our friend had drifted off to sleep. We’d kept up some small-talk and chatter during the start, but it had petered out as we more closely followed the boys’ journey along the train tracks. Eventually, their measured breathing and lack of response to a quiet question indicated they were both asleep. I watched the scene where Gordie, awake first, watches a deer walk by. He was alone, and he kept the moment to himself.

It didn’t move me enough to cry then, as it sometimes does now. I was too young to feel that kind of pain. For that I remain grateful. As for my boyhood friendships, none has lasted (except for one girl). Perhaps because of that, I hold my close friends a little closer.
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you’re in trouble won’t you stand by me
Oh stand by me, oh won’t you stand now, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me

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Subway Check-In

Every now and then I’ll be riding the subway in Boston and I’ll catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dirty, smudged glass of the window. In-between the passengers sitting across from me, I’ll watch myself lean to the side a bit and stare back at my own visage, slightly puzzled to see myself in such a fashion. (Most of the time when we look at a mirror we are by ourselves, so seeing oneself in a sea of strangers, and from a distance, is always somehow jarring.) It used to be a young man with a nameless backpack, then it was a guy with a Jack Spade bag, and now it’s just a middle-aged gentleman in a simple black t-shirt with a few more lines and wrinkles on his face, even in the forgiving dirtiness and filtering scratches of the subway window. These check-in moments on the T are markers of time ~ not altogether unwelcoming, but not exactly hopeful either.

Next to me is a much-younger guy with a hat that holds longer locks of hair. He reminds me of my friend Chris when he was younger. I think of us in college, and on some crazy spring break in San Juan, then fast-forward to where we are today. Outwardly we’re adults, with homes and families and jobs that make it look like we have our shit together, but sometimes my heart still riots. The passing of time ~ there suddenly like the arrival of a subway train that seems to take forever then is gone in a flash. We hurl so quickly to our next destination and we don’t ever realize how fast we are going. Sometimes there is nothing but a stranger to hold onto, but that would be weird so I fold my hands in my lap and watch the blur of the subway tiles rushing by.

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Rita Hayworth, Gave Good Face

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”

― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption: A Story from Different Seasons

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Hunk of the Day (Again): Andy Cohen

He’s been a Hunk of the Day before, and more importantly he’s released not just one but two entertaining tomes (‘Most Talkative‘ and ‘The Andy Cohen Diaries.’) Recently, he was in Miami on his tour with Anderson Cooper, where he hit the beach with his toned and tanned beach body (all the working out that took place in his Diaries has definitely paid off). This is Andy Cohen, who’s being honored as Hunk of the Day one more time because, well, he is.

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A Premature Project Preamble

It begins, as most majestic things do, with the tiniest seed of an idea. Sometimes it’s a feeling, sometimes it’s an injustice, and sometimes it’s something you have to do or you know you’ll die inside. In the beginning, then, is the quietest rumbling, like a distant train in the middle of the night. You sense it before you really know what it is.

Fortunately, I’m a little beyond that early stage of a new project. At this point, that train is loud and insistent and about to arrive, and nothing is going to stop it. There’s exhilaration in that, but exhaustion and weariness too. Above all else, though, it is a labor of love, and I can’t wait for this train to really take off.

For now, there’s the merest whisper of turning wheels, the faintest light from afar, and the lightest wisp of smoke from an engine that can simply be sensed, within a vehicle that can barely be felt, on a voyage whose outcome can only be surmised.

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Doing the Ditalini

It’s amazing what such a little piece of pasta can accomplish, and how it can fill such a large bowl when used en masse and plumped with water and warmth and a bit of EVOO love. Though the close-up on this cup of pasta misleadingly magnifies the size of the tiny noodles, trust me that in their dry form they are small and insignificant. Only in their quantity do they amount to much. I like the lesson of life inherent in that metaphor. One small part, no matter how small, can make a difference when it’s not alone.

This pasta plays a part in another delicious recipe from Lidia Bastianich – a classic Italian dish, Pasta e Fagioli Veloce – which relies on a cannellini bean base for thickness, into which the ditalini goes to retain all of its starchy goodness. Hand-crushed tomatoes and freshly chopped parsley add pizzazz to the hearty dish – perfect for those cold nights and showery April days. A bit of grated cheese over the final product, and a rustic baguette for dipping, make it a meal unto itself, or the ample beginning of an evening of delicious sustenance.

Pasta e Fagioli Veloce

  • 3 15-ounce cans cannellini beans, drained
  • ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
  • 3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 3 quarts water
  • 1 fresh rosemary sprig, needles stripped
  • 2 tablespoons kosher salt
  • ¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper
  • 1 15-ounce can whole tomatoes, crushed by hand
  • 2 cups ditalini
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley

Method:

In a blender, purée 2 cans of the beans with 1 cup water. Set aside. In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic. Once the garlic is sizzling, sprinkle in the flour. Let the flour toast for a minute but not color; then add 3 quarts of water, the rosemary, salt, and red pepper flakes. Bring to a boil, add the tomatoes, 1 cup slosh water from the tomato can, and the bean purée. Simmer until the soup thickens and is creamy and flavorful, about 30 minutes. Add the ditalini and the final can of beans (not puréed), and simmer until the pasta is al dente. Stir in the parsley and serve.

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A 4/20 Recap: Light It Up

You know what that means: smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em! While I’ve never been a big pot smoker – or a pot smoker period, I have been known to take a toke on the rare occasion it rears its head. (Mostly this happened in my early twenties, when a lunch break from John Hancock and a circle of towering rhododendrons in the Southwest Corridor Park invited such shenanigans… but I digress.) Onto a much less hazy week in review, where the only smoke was that created by the hotness of a few choice Hunks, and the burning fire of creative inspiration.

First, the Hunks. We got to see the wood-working of Tommy Mac, the son of Dirty Harry ~ Scott Eastwood, the mad musical genius of Diplo, the news reporter Gio Benitez, the man who made something out of his boy band legacy ~ David W. Ross, the comic creation of Will Arnett, and the luminescence of Bright Light Bright Light.

Second, a citrus-based cocktail, to tease the sun out of its hiding spot.

Third, a citrus-tinged chicken recipe that seems to fill the stomach with sunshine.

Fourth, the incandescent maker of a pair of golden shoes that fly on sunlight itself ~ the jocular Jeremy Scott.

Fifth, a coat of sunshine in the midst of Chinatown.

Sixth, a group of nude men.

Seventh, a collection of quotes from a favorite book.

Eighth, a visit to my hometown ~ Amsterdam, New York.

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