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December 2015

Diamonds & Pearls

THIS WILL BE THE DAY,

YOU WILL HEAR ME SAY

THAT I WILL NEVER RUN AWAY.

I AM HERE FOR YOU,

LOVE IS MEANT FOR TWO

NOW TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE GONNA DO…

A web of taut thread ran from banister to banister on the second floor of my childhood home. Twinkling lights wound their way through the string. Icicles made of faceted glass hung at varying lengths, catching and throwing off shards of light. Feathers of white rested atop the interlocking strands, hiding the cords and softening the little bulbs. Crystals in all shapes and sizes floated in mid-air, suspended by the elaborate system of thread, while snowflakes coated with silver glitter spun slowly whenever anyone walked by.

This was the decorative “sky” I created for our hallway area. Like any good gay boy, I excelled at decorating for the holidays, and this small patch of whimsical elegance was created each year, my small attempt at making something that approached magic. On the stereo, Prince’s ‘Diamonds and Pearls’ was playing on repeat, strangely fitting as ropes of faux pearls and beads dangled from my hands.

IF I GAVE YOU DIAMONDS AND PEARLS

WOULD YOU BE A HAPPY BOY OR A GIRL?

IF I COULD I WOULD GIVE YOU THE WORLD

BUT ALL I CAN DO IS JUST OFFER YOU MY LOVE.

I draped them over the string in parabolic fashion, their creamy spheres of soft white like tiny balls of the most lustrous satin. Winding in and among the ornaments and crystals, these strands of pearls dripped like jewels from some dowager’s neck. I wanted magic, and beauty, and a sparkle that would somehow last beyond the holiday season. I didn’t have much more to offer other than a way to make things pretty. Sometimes I still don’t.

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Holiday Children’s Hour in Boston

When I originally proposed the idea of holding a Holiday Children’s Hour at the Boston condo, I was envisioning an early afternoon gathering of a few of my friends’ kids briefly stopping by for a quick hot-cocoa-sipping get-together that went no longer than sixty minutes, hence the aptly-named ‘Hour’ portion of this extravaganza. Suzie laughed at that timeframe, and in my heart I did too. Though the three-and-a-half hour duration it ended up running to was a bit beyond my worst imaginings, I was enjoying the company so much I didn’t mind in the least. It also helped that among the three children attending, there were three parents in attendance as well. That’s about the most perfect babysitting ratio: one parent per child, and no child gets left to be cared for by Alan.

The festivities began at around 3 PM, with a plate of shortbread cookies and a few letter-to-Santa writing kits to amend Suzie’s paper crafts. I had specifically request paper craft projects for the kids. What? I used to love paper crafts! Still do. And fortunately these imaginative folks did as well. (My niece and nephew are not nearly as patient or easily amused.)

Once the paper crafts neared the end of their occupation, we broke out a package of Christmas ‘crackers’ – those wrapped toys that you pull apart to an explosion of string, some none-too-witty scrap of fortune, and a little toy.

This will be the last time I get to see Sophia and Alissa before they move to South Africa, and that was definitely a reason for the gathering. Before that, though, a few push-ups, because that’s what one does at a Holiday Children’s hour. Hey, we were making the rules up as we went along.

It’s much too soon to see whether this will be a tradition I carry on next year. Children grow up so quickly, and everything changes so much it’s difficult to count on a repeat performance of such magic. If it does happen to happen, it will no doubt look very different. Now I’m getting ahead of myself, which is the antithesis of this post, in which I was able to actually enjoy the holiday moment.

We ordered an early dinner of Thai food, because with three kids it’s easier to order in than command a large table at a restaurant. It’s also more fun. While I’m not about to run out and get a little of children myself, this particular Holiday Children’s Hour (or Three) was way more fun than I anticipated – and I haven’t ruled out a similar event next year.

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A Belated Recap

After a weekend of The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book and its darker midsection, I decided to offer some relief to those of you not enamored by my crotch covered only in a devil’s mask. As such, my Holiday Stroll recap spilled into the usual Monday morning round-up of the previous week’s posts, so here we have that look-back now. And a little later, a recap of the Boston Holiday Children’s Hour.

Don’t just stand there, let’s get to it!

The wise words of Cher.

Roses in December – disturbing but no less pretty.

A vicious murder in Sparrow Park mars the seasonal joy.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book resumed in gruesome fashion.

The ‘Animal Demons’ section included pig masks and an ax. (Along with some ass seed.)

But that was nothing compared to the bunny-fucking. Now that is how you exorcize a scary Easter Bunny.

(And no, I didn’t really fuck that rabbit, no matter what it looked like.)

Holiday Hunks included Sage Northcutt, Sawyer Hartman, Jake Quickenden, and a pair of Ryas: Ryan Rose and Ryan Ball.

Best of all, however, was a three part Holiday Stroll with my friend Kira. Our annual event is going on its 4th or 5th year now, and this year was a doozy. It is probably one of the most fun holiday events I get to do. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 are all up now.

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Steve Grand and His Big Xmas Balls

Available only on Bandcamp, this is Steve Grand’s take on Mariah Carey’s ubiquitous ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’ (More of that tune later this week, whether you like it or not.) He slows it down in a piano ballad style, and gives us this cute and romantic holiday themed video. Made in literally a matter of days, if this is what Mr. Grand can produce under time and budget constraints, I can’t wait to see what he’ll accomplish in the years to come. 

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The Holiday Stroll 2015 – Part III

The last day of our Holiday Stroll – Sunday – dawned brilliantly. This was the weather I’d hoped for when plotting out the whole weekend, and as such the original plan for keeping things to half a day in the South End was scrapped in favor of crossing the Charles into Cambridge. Kira was game for it, so we strode along the Southwest Corridor Park to the Back Bay T stop.

The leaves atop the trees were still gloriously aflame. The usual bite of December cold was tepid at best, and so the day had the feeling of early fall, with the addition of holiday sparkle. The best of both worlds.

Certain brownstones were decked out in cranberries and pomegranates – decadent displays that the wildlife of the South End had remarkably left alone. Perhaps even they courted the holiday spirit, allowing the beauty to be enjoyed by all.

We rode the Red Line all the way to Porter Square. Given the beauty of the day, I’d decided to go the Cambridge route, walking along Mass Ave – a lengthy stretch that had several fun shops along the way. Before we began, we stopped in Japan by way of Porter.

As we did with the previous day’s pho, we started with some stomach-warming elixir – the magic of ramen. It was our first time at Sapporo Ramen, and we were second in line (it’s so popular that there is always a line). We ordered up the House Ramen, and soon enough were sipping at the thick broth. I still prefer pho, but this was an energizing beginning to a day of walking.

The shops on this side of the river always felt more rustic to me, less refined than the uptight perfection that Boston Proper always strives for (and ends up all the more off-putting for it). These stores carried more whimsies and more enchanted objects.

The colors of this already-bright day popped in eye-arresting fashion, and I wondered, as I often do when in Cambridge, why I didn’t come out this way more often.

In a Tibetan store, Kira convinces me to try on a traditional hat trimmed with fur and embroidered with gold thread. It is, sadly, not quite my size, so I settle for a one-size-fits-all Tibetan yak wrap (in a fine fuchsia shade that will match my Jack Wills holiday bag perfectly).

There are further enchantments along the never-ending avenue, and when at last we reach Harvard Square, we have found the giddy wonder that characterizes the best of the season.

It was here, in The Tannery, where I found that exquisite bond No. 9 fragrance ‘New York Oud’ and sprayed it on my wrist, where it accompanied us on the rest of our stroll. Somehow, I will find my way to that fragrance, as it now comes imbued with meaning and memory – the kind of connection that makes a great fragrance into something life-affirming.

At the edge of Harvard, a tree lifted its bright fruit into the blue sky – an explosion of natural beauty that led us to a few more Tibetan stores en route to Central Square. I held onto the image, and the intoxicating combination of New York Oud and Tibetan incense, as we descended to the subway.

We emerged into the afternoon sunlight outside the Park Ave station. The sun glinted golden off the State house, and we took our time meandering through the Common before entering the Public Garden. The willows still held their golden leaves, and the sunlight was just dipping into the horizon. In these final hours of our Holiday Stroll, Kira and I slowed our steps and stopped for one last moment to take it all in.

In the lounge of the Four Seasons, the hum of early afternoon revelers was low but happy. Trees were elegantly appointed in the lobby, and though the outside was anything but frightful, inside was this dreamlike winter wonderland. This would be our final official stop for our stroll, and of course it wasn’t on the itinerary. We laughed at the piece of green cardstock in my hand, at the many lines that had been crossed out and replaced. It turns out that the best Holiday Strolls are the ones that go unplanned and unplotted. That was the holiday gift I got from this year’s stroll – along with some precious time with a good friend.

As the day dimmed, we found ourselves back at Braddock Park. Kira rushed off to catch a train, and I stopped at the foot of the stairs to observe the early descent of evening. The sky deepened in color. The night still emanated with the grace of fall. I didn’t dare knock on the door of winter. It would arrive soon enough, and without bidding.

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The Holiday Stroll 2015 – Part II

Mother Nature must have been making up for the big pile of poo she dumped on Boston earlier this year, but rain was not in the forecast for our Holiday Stroll. It was certainly not in the itinerary, nor in the planning for the weekend. (Clear skies had been predicted and I foolishly heeded the weather reports.) I had the wrong coat for rain, the wrong shoes for rain, the wrong fragrance for rain, and the wrong indoor-outdoor walking ratio for rain. And we only had one umbrella (the one stocked in the condo that did NOT go with my outfit in the least) to share. Have you ever tried sharing an umbrella while walking a decent distance? It sucks, and everybody ends up getting wet. Yet none of that mattered (ok, it mattered a little, but my complaints dwindled as we made our way along a wet walk that found the temperatures warm and the sights still filled with fall leaves and flowers).

Changing the itinerary yet again, we ducked into Pho Basil for an early lunch. A bit of warm sustenance for the dreary day would surely turn our spirits around, and it worked. Pho is a winter tradition for us now, and Kira and I eagerly filled out stomachs with the hot, spicy broth.

Umbrella unfurled above us, we walked down Newbury Street, stopping in shops to browse and look, and somehow avoiding the huge crowds that often accompany the high shopping season. Maybe the rain had its unintended benefits as well. We mostly just looked, but that was all right. Much of our shopping had already been done. The point of our stroll was not to buy, but to enjoy.

Even looking has its exhaustions, however, and after a couple of hours we needed a rest. After crossing to Boylston, I insisted on a break in the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental. Their floral display is always stellar, and their inviting lobby has a delicious fire perfect for a rainy December day. Sitting down, we surveyed the fire and the Christmas tree, and took a moment to just be still.

These are the moments that make our Holiday Stroll special. The little pockets of in-between time, when we don’t even talk or check our phones, when the day pauses in its hectic rush – these are what I treasure the most. Kira enjoys them too, never the first to reluctantly stand and take up the journey again.

Time ticks on, no matter how much we’d like to stay, but the rain was still in full effect. We braved Boylston a bit longer (I adore the Crate & Barrel there) then found shelter back in the Prudential. Usually we use it as a walking corridor when the weather is wild, but as the stores were decked out in holiday finery, we added it to the itinerary (which was already in tatters because we were not walking all the way to Downtown Crossing or Quincy Market as ambitiously outlined under clearer skies).

We were vaguely aware that the day was darkening, but we didn’t know the rain was slowing as well. By the time we re-emerged at the other end of Copley Place, it was dim but dry, and we crossed Dartmouth for a cocktail at the Fairmont.

There we sat and talked, amid a bevy of other holiday shoppers and merry-makers. A festive mood had come out of the rainy day after all, our holiday stroll intact in its own strange way, valiantly proving its spirit even as it realigned my precious itinerary.

We had dinner and then made the long walk back to the condo, pausing at a cozy little market so I could pick up some sweet potatoes for later that night. (Yes, there was a reason.)

After winding down relatively early (having been up way too late the previous evening) we settled in with a viewing of ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner‘ – a tradition that we will keep intact because it’s such a good movie. I baked a couple of sweet potatoes in honor of the ice skating scene (where they are called ‘sweet hots’ (or is it ‘hot sweets’?) – both sound equally ridiculous) which turned out serviceable enough. They were done just as the appropriate scene came on, so we paused and munched on some late-night starch. The next day was a new part to our Holiday Stroll, and I wasn’t sure how it would go…

{To be continued}

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The Holiday Stroll 2015 – Part I

Sometimes the best-laid plans are the most easily broken, and sometimes an overly-anal Virgo needs to be put in his place when it comes to scheduling fun and spontaneous enjoyment. The universe taught me that lesson as Kira and I set out on a three-day Holiday Stroll that had been meticulously-plotted – the itinerary printed out on green cardstock. From the very beginning – a canceled cocktail toast at the Liberty Hotel (we did it at the condo instead, so she could drop off her bags) – to the very end (a mad-dash to get Kira on the train back to Attleboro) it was a comedy of errors, resulting in the least-followed itinerary ever created. Yet somehow it was one of the most fun weekends I’ve had in a while, and that’s about the only thing I could have guaranteed from the beginning.

As mentioned, the very first activity of the evening -“ a kick-off toast at the Liberty followed by a walk up Charles Street – was substituted by Kira’s arrival at the condo. We sat for a moment amidst the lights and decorations, toasting with a Campari orange before heading out into the clear night air.

Mother Nature must have been making up for her atrocious behavior last winter, as many of the leaves were still on the trees, illuminated now by Christmas lights and lending additional color to the dim days leading up to the shortest of the year.

The storefronts were lit from within, even though all were closed at the late hour. We hustled deeper into the South End, to The Elephant Walk restaurant, where plates of warm Cambodian food awaited the weary traveler.

Across the street, a church glowed beneath the light of the moon. That treacherous moon, which would wreak its havoc with our plans the entire weekend, sprinkled her crazy light over our progression. Yet even a walk into winter can be a pleasant experience when you don’t have to do it alone.

Taking our cue from this headless bunny, we headed back to the condo for some rest and shut-eye, and a super-late viewing of ‘Love Actually’ – which will likely not make the holiday tradition list. It’s just too much. Of course, we stayed up to watch the end – all the way past the 2 AM mark – a first. We make bedtime exceptions for the holiday stroll.

{To be continued}

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Demons Depart

It is not my mode of thought that has caused my misfortunes, but the mode of thought of others. ~ Marquis de Sade 

Violence is a calm that disturbs you. ~ Jean Genet

Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature’s mandates. ~ Marquis de Sade 

It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure. ~ Marquis de Sade 

Read from a distant star, the majuscule script of our earthly existence would perhaps lead to the conclusion that the earth was the distinctively ascetic planet, a nook of disgruntled, arrogant creatures filled with a profound disgust with themselves, at the earth, at all life, who inflict as much pain on themselves as they possibly can out of pleasure in inflicting pain which is probably their only pleasure. ― Friedrich Nietzsche

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

Next Stop: STEAM PUNK BIRDCAGE

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The DG Tour: Animal Demons – Part 5

“In a time of destruction,

create something.”

~ Maxine Hong Kingston

 

 

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The DG Tour: Animal Demons – Part 4

{Continued from

Parts One,

Two,

and Three.}

To destroy the demons of the past, one must sometimes sacrifice the angels as well.

This wasn’t a slow degradation or gentle dismantling of an image. This was a willful and violent destruction of what came before. The erection of a perceived life of excitement & debauchery can take years; its destruction can take even longer, and is rarely successful in delivering complete eradication.

That requires a dance with the devil – and how many people do you know who would be willing to take that chance?

Yet even more than a deconstruction or dismantling of the past, this was an annihilation. Only the most desperate would ever attempt to start over at this stage in life.

The desperate and the very daring…

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A Tour Resumes in Frightening Fashion

A door, burnt and frozen, and locked from the outside.

An axe, held aloft in nervous hands, unaware of impending blows.

A shadow, revealing more than the light.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour continues this weekend, and the Tour Book goes further down the rabbit hole. These are dark images, with dark themes, but there is a comedic edge to the proceedings as well. Delusions can be devilishly amusing once you embrace the fun-house ride notion of what is at hand. Hold on tight…

Shadow fiend, ephemeral foe, monster in the looking-glass – what terrors do you intend for yourself?

What terrors do you intend for others?

Whatever menace you may bring to the world, whatever horrors you may inflict, the only real destruction you can hope to achieve is the decay of your own heart.

It cannot and will not be achieved by the violence of a moment, the rage of a scream, or the wielding of an ax.

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

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Murder in Sparrow Park

There is something serious and comical about this murder scene. On one hand, it’s terrifying and disturbing. How anyone could do such a thing, and why they would do such a thing, will always remain a mystery to me. I may play the sick, twisted card in Tour Books and other fictionalized outlets, but to actually go out and do this sort of thing, well, I don’t have it in me. And I’m relieved at that. But someone did.

This brutal beheading of an anonymous bear took place in the early evening hours of December 5. I stumbled upon the crime scene following the first annual children’s holiday at work. It was a heartless wake-up call after such a lovely afternoon of holiday bonhomie. The body had been stuffed in a garbage can. while a few feet away the head rested on its side, eyes agape as if still in shock.

Darkness lurks, even at Christmastime. Sometimes I think things become more sinister when the majority of people are doing their best to be good. Maybe it just seems that way in comparison.

The sad and serious part of this unhappy ending is that the bear looks well-worn and loved. In the realm of the Velveteen Rabbit, he or she would be considered ‘real.’ That’s the heartbreaking aspect of this scene. Was this an adult playing a joke on the world? Was it someone’s parent or care-taker menacing an actual child? I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. I had to work hard to quell my imagination from running away with all sorts of possible atrocities. In the end, it will remain a mystery. I turned my back to it and shuffled off into the night.

Being observant is sometimes a curse.

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December Roses

The 60-degree weather we’ve had of late is nice, but disturbing. I fear for the buds that have appeared on the cherries and hydrangeas – all will be decimated once the customary winter hits. In the meantime, however, roses still bloom and fall-colored leaves still dangle. There is something fun about that, some way-late-season celebratory spark that accompanies the disorienting notion of roses in December.

These pink beauties were smiling at me from the Southwest Corridor Park the last time I was in Boston. I paused to snap a few photos, while another on-looker marveled at them too. She said they were almost like holiday decorations.

Such extremes are indications of global warming and climate change, so the sight of these beautiful roses comes with certain consternation. As much as I enjoy the reprieve from the cruelty of winter, I also know the importance of a steady frozen groundwork for the survival and well-being of plants in the Northeast. Beauty and relief today may spell disaster for tomorrow. I’d rather go through the ritual and pay the dues now.

That said, these roses are indeed beautiful, and their incongruent appearance in the last month of the year shall be taken as a blessing. Maybe the winter won’t be so bad. Even if it is, the memory of beauty lingers, the feeling resulting from warm sunlight in December remains.

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In the Words of Cher

I like Cher. I don’t love her. Not in the all-encompassing life-long way I love Madonna, but in a friendly thanks-for-being-a-gay-icon-all-these-years and thanks for more good music than most of us realize she’s put out. Case in point is one of her latest, a wistful well-wish for a former paramour, the kind of love that sets someone else free, and in doing so sets yourself free. There’s no greater soul-service than genuinely wishing someone else happiness and love. Most of the times I’ve done so, I’m rather ashamed to say, have been fraught with ulterior motives. It’s so hard to be purely good, to do things with absolutely no self-preserving agenda somewhere in the background. Think of any good thing you’ve done and tell me there weren’t auxiliary benefits or joy for yourself as well. It’s pretty impossible. Yet I believe that’s the sign of grace and goodness.

I’m still working on it…

I hope I find it.

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Shadow Vogueing

On a recent afternoon in Boston, the sun drifted into the bedroom, and the light was such that it allowed for some Madonna-inspired shadow puppetry. The fun part of these iPhone photos is that they were not filtered into black-and-white – these are color shots. On a white wall, and with gray shadows, one doesn’t need to alter with filters or photoshop. In a season of color-saturation, this gives a sense of ease to the eyes.

As we approach the Christmas/New Year holidays, I tend to seek out softer moments like this, pockets of quiet and simplicity. I almost – almost – wish for the sheer starkness of January. Not that I wish to rush through the fun and warmth of this season, I just long for a bit of peace in the midst of all the madness.

Until then, I’ll make-do with shadow boxing, diverting my attention with moments of whimsy, ephemeral bits of distraction, anything to avoid the hustle and bustle up into which everyone is getting swept. I will hold onto my shadows and let them do the work for me, scuttling off to get the last-minute gifts, to pick out a party outfit for the next event, to wish merry on family and friends, while I sneak off to parts unknown for peace and quiet.

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