Groups of three.
One single post.
Easy way out.
2015
Hot on the heels of his grooming product release (including a citrusy Eau de Toilette), Ben Cohen is currently finishing up his autobiography, set for a September release. While I’ve never been  big fan of the genre, exceptions must be made, particularly in the case of a Mr. Cohen (see Andy.) He’s got a grand story to tell, both for his accomplishments and tragedies, and I can’t wait to read it. )If he’s wise, he’ll include some behind-the-scenes stories of photo shoots like these. Or just some photos.
Not really sure what to say about the recent photo that Justin Bieber put up on Instragram… My ass certainly wouldn’t fly if I put this on Instagram, but maybe he’s taken it down already. He was kinda naked already on this blog, and was definitely in nothing but his underwear. As for the fully naked shot below, have at it. I’m neither impressed nor unimpressed.
Though there is no summer vacation for us coming up, I finally finished the bulk of project work this past weekend (and clocking in at 232 pages it’s one of the grander works I’ve created). After downloading it to the printer, I spent much of yesterday by the pool, alternately pruning the overgrown backyard cherries and reading on a float. The latter was the more fun of the two, but the former needed to be done. It was the first time I’ve felt relaxed since serious project work began three month ago. Now we settle into promotional mode, but first the weekly look back.
Let’s begin with another back – Britain’s Best Bottom, Darius Ferdynand.
Pruning was a major theme of the week, literally and figuratively.
July – past, present… and future.
The smoking-hot Alexander Ludwig made his debut in the Hunk of the Day feature.
Yes, July is in full-effect.
Channing Tatum gave good face.
Pool Party of One, times two.
My Fourth of July memories needed a little help.
My brother needs a little help too.
Where the men get sweaty and naked in the name of ESPN.
Like Greek Gods and Goddesses, the most stunning wardrobe most athletes can don is nothing but their skin. It’s an art form really, to sculpt your frame into something akin to a statue through hard work and competition. Luckily, that is being captured, and by an entity whose acronym remains a mystery to me. There’s only one thing that ESPN has proven good for over the years: the Body Issue of their publication, in which they coax the fittest players into taking off all their clothes and posing for action shots of their preferred sport in the buff. It’s resulted in some stellar exhibitions by Michael Phelps, Rob Gronkowski, Evan Lysacek, Matt Harvey, Giancarlo Stanton and Tomas Berdych.
The latest edition provides a pair of pectacular gentlemen: Bryce Harper and Stan Wawrinka. Feast your eyes upon their fit bodies, and a bonus video of Mr. Harper for those who want to see things in motion.
“There was one of his lonelinesses coming, one of those times when he walked the streets or sat, aimless and depressed, biting a pencil at his desk. It was a self-absorption with no comfort, a demand for expression with no outlet, a sense of time rushing by, ceaselessly and wastefully – assuaged only by that conviction that there was nothing to waste, because all efforts and attainments were equally valueless.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“I shall go on shining as a brilliantly meaningless figure in a meaningless world.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“I had traded the fight against love for the fight against loneliness, the fight against life for the fight against death.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“There was a kindliness about intoxication – there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“The notion of sitting down and conjuring up, not only words in which to clothe thoughts but thoughts worthy of being clothed–the whole thing was absurdly beyond his desires.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“Routine comes down like twilight on a harsh landscape, softening it until it is tolerable. The complexity is too subtle, too varied; the values are changing utterly with each lesion of vitality; it has begun to appear that we can learn nothing from the past with which to face the future… so we cease to be impulsive, convincible men, interested in what is ethically true by fine margins, we substitute rules of conduct for ideas of integrity, we value safety above romance, we become, quite unconsciously, pragmatic.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“He was handsome then if never before, bound for one of those immortal moments which come so radiantly that their remembered light is enough to see by for years.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
“I’ve got a streak of what you’d call cheapness. I don’t know where I get it but it’s oh, things like this and bright colors and gaudy vulgarity. I seem to belong here. These people could appreciate me and take me for granted, and these men would fall in love with me and admire me, whereas the clever men I meet would just analyze me and tell me I’m this because of this or that because of that.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’
My brother can be a bit slow-on-the-uptake sometimes. I say this out of love and exasperation, and anyone who knows him – really knows him – knows it’s true. Case in point: this text “exchange” between my brother and my… brother. His texts are on the left, in gray, while I’m on the right in blue. Remember that. He’s in gray, I’m in blue.
As you can see, he initially asks if I’m going to Boston, then apparently thinks his follow-up of ‘I was planning on going’ was written by me. (It took me a while to figure out what had happened – I only read the series after he was in the midst of a little conniption fit. Those first few texts on the left are all him. How a person doesn’t realize what they’re texting and responding to is beyond me.
It’s just a classic (and comical) illustration of what it’s like to argue with him (and why I don’t bother. There are some levels of ignorance that can’t be reasoned against, so I don’t.)
At first I was confused, hence my question of what he’s talking about. It becomes clear in the next screen:
So, my brother got into an argument with himself, had a text conversation with himself, and made a complete fool of himself. Somehow, mark my word, I’ll be blamed for this.
For the record, the only weekend I told him I’d be in Boston thus far this summer was my 40th birthday weekend in August, which he has already claimed as his own because he wants to see a concert. I’m trying to make other plans for that weekend now, because as selfish as everyone thinks I am, I don’t hold a candle to my brother. Even when it’s my 40th birthday.
For most of my childhood, we would spend the Fourth of July at a family friend’s house, where a number of Amsterdam’s finest would assemble and celebrate in grand fashion with lots of food and drink, and a comical re-enactment of Lincoln giving an address from a second story balcony. I didn’t understand much (if any) of the humor to those performances, but judging from the laughs and groans they must have been ribald and bawdy, and something I’d totally appreciate today. Back then that was the yawn-inducing portion of the day for us. More exciting was the freedom to roam an extensive yard, and play games like tug-of-war and softball. While the latter did nothing for me, the former afforded a tantalizing glimpse of a few formal garden beds.
Spires of blue delphinium backed by meticulously manicured rows of privet caught my eye, while rows of cucumbers and squash wound their tenacious tendrils around anything in their path. One of the joys of my childhood was stumbling upon someone else’s garden. They always seemed nicer and better than my own, in the way that a salad or sandwich always looks better when made by someone else.
I’d rather have spent the day dawdling in the garden, hidden from the crowds behind walls of leafy green, secreted away among the loud chattering of black-eyed Susans and pink petunias. Yet try as I might, I couldn’t get my brother or Suzie or anyone else we happened to be hanging around to stay very long in such seclusion. They did well with the company of others, entranced by the action of competition, while I was better off on my own.
Escaping from the throngs of sweaty revelers, I stepped into the quiet of the house. In the entrance hall an ornate vase held a bouquet of delphiniums. I stood there in the darkened coolness, studying the flower forms and the composition of the bouquet, grateful for the solitude. Away from the screams and laughter and nonsense, it was my own first step towards independence.
A cheeky Part 2 from the shirtless pool promise of Part 1, and the second-laziest post I’ve done in a while. The good thing is that new stuff is on the way, and the promotional push and hype is about to engulf all my outlets. You have been warned. Enjoy the next few days of relative quiet.
With more work on the new project taking up all my available time, a two-part pictorial of pool fun is the best I can offer right now. Cause we need a holiday…
The clip of Channing Tatum channeling his inner vogue boy is absolutely everything. It stands alone as an afternoon post because it can. He can currently be seen with a lot less clothing in the ‘Magic Mike XXL‘ sequel out this week. Or you can peruse our previous posts of a very nude Channing Tatum here, and here, and here.
Strike a pose, indeed.
… though you wouldn’t know it by the cool temps and rainy mess that’s falling from the sky. Still in the weeds while whittling way at the new project, I’m filling this space with filler and links in the hopes that you’ll bookmark it and come back when the dust has settled. Or enjoy the dust storm like a one-winged dove…
July brings back summer memories, like this one-night-stand.
It reminds me of the hot pavement in New York.
A ridiculous Roxette song.
A shy guy.
A good read.
A male nude.
The random nature of this blog is about to get even more-so, as project work keeps me busier than a privet-drunk bee. There’s just not enough time, and too much to do. When that happens, we like to go a little crazy. Vainglorious, ridiculous and fabulous thoughts that cross the weary mind…
On decadent nights or rainy days, I like to wear ‘Un Jardin après la Mousson’ by Hermès.
The most important items you wear may be your socks.
Mistakes make the world perfect.
Remember that time Zac Efron grabbed this guy’s crotch?
I get high off linden trees. (And the aforementioned privet. I just do.)
Go on and beet it. Just beet it. Whoo!
And then make a change.
To this one, for Michael.
No, Michael.
I said Michael!
Not that one, this Michael!
No, I’m not high now. Linden, privet or brownie-wise.
I don’t feel like doing a Hunk of the Day today. Instead, a flash of silliness for the foot enthusiasts. A double flash, in fact, courtesy of Cherelle and Robert Palmer. Which do you prefer?
I don’t know how this pretty-but-dangerous sweet pea found its way into my garden, but she’s been a beautiful bastion ever since she arrived, despite her inherent danger. I’ve only planted sweet peas once ~ the fancy, frilly annual variety ~ and after that this stood in their place. I’m not sure if it came in with that group, or if some bird deceptively dropped a seed in to confuse the situation. It’s the wild perennial version, the one that’s taken over hillsides throughout the area, and one that can be tenaciously invasive in tendency and sprawl. Confined and controlled, it makes a refreshing sight in first bloom. After that it gets extremely straggly and untidy, and I usually cut it down drastically in mid-summer to get a fresh crop of leaves later.
I say it’s dangerous because it will reseed if given the chance, and if left untended those seeds will grow into pesky plants with root systems that just won’t give up. This is one that requires constant vigilance. The single specimen I maintain would have become ten by now (and there are two or three that have taken hold in inconvenient-to-reach spots that will need to be eradicated sooner rather than later.) I like the single plant we have, and it’s a colorful focal point covering a free-standing trellis. But we have to be wary, and certain beasts, no matter how deceptively gorgeous, need to be kept in check.