June 2016
Behold, the elegance and simplicity of the Chinese dogwood. More disease-resistant than their American cousins, these beauties offer their own enchantment in the garden, particularly thanks to their later blooming season (which is just finishing up now). They make the perfect accent tree for those of us with smaller suburban homes, where they can mimic their natural understory tendencies beside a taller house.
On a recent weekend in Boston, I got up-close and personal with a few showy blossoms. Like Ms. Desmond herself, they all but shouted to be noticed, so beautifully were they blooming. It was as if we never said good-bye last fall, as if there had been no winter ~ mild or otherwise. Plants can be like certain friends that way ~ you pick up right where you left off, without awkwardness or pause. These pretty things have caught my notice before ~ the rustic elegance of the Rosa rugosa, the frilly painted petals of a few rhodies, and the intricate architecture of a way-more-than-double clematis.
Caught in a focus much tighter than usual, these photos reveal even greater beauty at work than I usually notice. The markings on a white rhododendron, for example, show themselves to be a painting of stunning detail and nuance ~ a place where artistic masters may have learned their abstract craft.
These marvelously-shaded throats aren’t always immediately evident on examination from afar ~ only when you move in can you get a sense of how subtle and gorgeously-rendered nature crafts her florals.
As for that clematis, it may not be solely the work of nature. Humans can’t help but mess with things, and sometimes our efforts turn out something amazing, such as the spectacular thing you see below. Whether or not you enjoy such hybridized monsters, there is beauty in everything ~ even the garish and extreme. Thank goodness that it is so.
More commonly known as potato salad, and a bastion of an American summer scene, this is my favorite dish of the season, mostly because everyone else does such a better job of preparing it that I beg until someone always delivers. While people always say it is a simple thing to make, anything that requires the added step of boiling potatoes (or boiling anything for that matter) seems like too much work for me. (I feel the same way about pasta salad.)
This one was made by Elaine, who brought it to a summer pool gathering. She does a wondrous version as so exquisitely seen here, with lots of hard boiled eggs (another step) and fresh herbs from her garden (hello, lovely dill).
I don’t know what other treasures are used in this fine side dish – it all feels like magic to me. Tastes that way too.
At the height of the day, when the light is right and the breeze is light, the pool can play tricks on one.
The sunlight, glistening off the little ripples.
The heat, rising in waves from the surrounding cement.
The green of the leaves, still bright, still tender.
The slight shimmer of chlorine, mingled with the lingering scent of shampoo from newly-wet hair, and a tinge of coconut lotion. It brings to mind the refreshing over-the-top pineapple-garnished curvy glass of a pina colada.
Like clouds of cream swirling in a crystal goblet, so does a gauzy white length of fabric wrap itself around the limbs. Water and cloth, sun and air – the simplest of elements, but taken together how simplicity can soar. A sensual tug to aqua depths, the quick intake of breath before diving under, and the arch of a back like a porpoise with purpose.
This is summer by the pool.
We love all things Andrew Christian on this website. From his underwear, to his underwear models, to the man himself – all things AC are glorious. For your noon treat, a slightly saucy video of popcorn, underwear, and nakedness. All in an Andrew Christian day.
Recently added to my summer reading queue is this sizzling memoir by Josh Sabarra. He’s been featured here as the Hunk of the Day, but this is one Renaissance man who will likely be seen a lot more. (As David Beckham and Ben Cohen have been quiet of late, we are on the lookout for the next hunky conglomerate.) As mentioned, I’ll be reading his ‘Porn Again: A Memoir’ on the beach this summer (and writing a review when the vacation is over), thanks in part to this powerful teaser in his own words:
“I struggled for decades to find myself and to be comfortable in my own skin. Â As I approached the beginning of the second half of my life, I thought that my stories might inspire people to step into themselves and entertain at the same time.
During the writing process, I learned that I had been borrowing my sense of self for so long. Â I looked to food, plastic surgery, my career, my lovers and my celebrity friendships to try to make myself appealing to other people. Â I finally realized that I am enough, on my own terms.” – Josh Sabarra
In addition to his novel (and another one on the way) he’s the sex columnist for ‘Gay Times’ magazine (and I’m secretly hoping he’ll write a Special Guest Blog for this little website – pretty please with a cherry on top?)
Some guy-candy/eye-candy for your noon-time reverence. Feast your thirsty eyes upon Americo Neto. One day this man shall be crowned an official Hunk. Consider this but a preview for all good things to those who wait.
…And then, just like that, summer was here, as if someone flipped a happy switch and everything went bright and gay. If only every week could be such a thrill. This marks the time of the year when things go a little quiet. People are starting their vacations, school is out, and the heavy posts feel out of place and lugubrious when there is so much outdoors fun to be had. To that end, you may notice these posts  getting a little lighter too. I’m still intending to give you three-a-day, but they may be a little less dense than usual. On with the recap, because I need to get back in the pool…
After a few dismal weeks of sadness and grief, the summer sun returned, the flowers were in bloom, and the perfume of the season carried on warm breezes.
The latest in the long line of Taylor Swift toys is Tom Hiddleston, in his bulging underwear.
A happy pair: Madonna & Sex.
Another happy pair, with happy tears.
Happy dahlia, stained with rain.
At long last, a couple of Broadway reviews from this year’s trip to NYC: ‘Fun Home‘ and ‘The Humans.‘
Is there a point to prettiness?
Summer monsters at the movies.
This is the week that many of the US Olympic trials made their decisions on who was going to represent our fair country in the Summer olympics in Rio. The featured pic, in fact, is of several of our gymnasts who flipped, dove, jumped, swung, and pommeled their way to places on the team. As for those who appeared here, we begin with Paul Ruggeri III, Alex Naddour, and David Boudia. (More are on the way…)
Speaking of the Olympics, Greg Louganis got naked and nude for the ESPN Body Issue. There is a God.
Summer hunks doffed shirts and trousers, including Max Ehrich, Marc Buckner, Nolan Ritter, and Alex Crockford.
We are but a few weeks away from the summer Olympics, and our Hunks of the Day are all coming to you straight from the Olympic trials. While Greg Louganis has already been a Hunk of the Day, and a hero, he’s showing off his fine physique without so much as a Speedo for the ESPN Body Issue (read: the Nude Issue). It is a thrill to see someone still exercise such fine form and mastery of staying in shape, but when you have Olympic blood in you, it seems to be part of life.
Mr. Louganis has made a splash here before, in ways both moving and sexy, and he does that again in this brief post. Though he was diagnosed with HIV almost three decades ago, he’s still going strong. As he recently told ‘People’ magazine, “HIV taught me that I’m a lot stronger than I ever believed I was… Also, not to take anything for granted. I didn’t think I would see 30, and here I am at 56.”
As a new crop of divers heads to Rio to prove their worth, it’s good to see an old favorite – and a childhood hero of mine – still inspiring, and jumping into the future without looking back.
“My life is a game of strip poker. Want to play?” ~ James Whale, ‘Gods and Monsters’
I’m not sure why I always consider ‘Gods and Monsters’ such a summer movie, but I do.
Maybe it’s the pool, which plays such an integral role to the story.
Maybe it’s the rainstorm, that has such a summer feel to it.
Maybe it’s Ian McKellen’s summery suits that reek of Gatsby and light and all things ephemeral.
Maybe it’s just Brendan Fraser, shorn of shirt, when he was hot and at his most potently vulnerable.
Whatever the case, this is one movie that has come to personify summer in my warped mind, so I’m recommending it when you need a way to pass the hot nights. It has a cooling, calming effect on me, despite its occasionally dark subject matter and more than a few disturbing moments. Summer can be like that. It’s not all sun and fun and splashing in the pool. But you’ll find that out in your own time.
“I’ve spent much of my life outrunning the past, and now it floods all over me.” ~ James Whale, ‘Gods and Monsters’
Here is an example of a flower I love but would never grow. One of the most beautiful perennials out there – in a rare shade of blue – this is the delphinium. The main reason I haven’t grown them is that they are reportedly rather finicky and difficult to grow well. Most require staking at some point (the bane of my gardening existence) and the soil and conditions that they like are not those typically found in the wild and unpredictable Northeast.
However, I do love them in other gardens, where I can appreciate their floral form and color without the trouble of devoting hours of time and yards of space to their cultivation. One of the more difficult lessons of gardening is learning what you can and cannot handle. Aim high, but aim realistically.
Sometimes the whole point is prettiness itself. These silk slippers, backed with rich green velvet and adorned with silk flowers and tassels of ribbon, serve no other purpose than to look beautiful. They are not designed to withstand bad weather or even a bed of smooth gravel. They are not made to provide exceptional warmth or a way of warding off a winter. They are not meant to tread work-horse-like through a day at the office. Instead, their point and purpose is to look pretty – and in looking pretty, to bring about joy and happiness.
There is power in such prettiness.
Currency in attractiveness.
I’m not saying it’s right, merely that it’s there.
It happens to be so.
As for these slippers, they were a gift to myself, as so many things are.
I found them in a gift shop in Ogunquit the last time we were there.
Andy has never cared a whit what I put on my feet, so the only person who has seen their glory thus far is myself. If the point is prettiness, what happens here? Or does prettiness not depend upon being seen? That is the real question at hand: can something be pretty if no one ever sees it?
I believe hearts are like that. Souls, too.
In the middle of the day, a flower says more than I could ever say.
Despite the ominous noises sounding from above and outside the surroundings of the bleak (if magnificent by New York standards) apartment of ‘The Humans,’ it’s the plaintive cries of laughter and tears from the people within that gives this play its most terrifying clamor. While it is very much a New York tale, ‘The Humans’ is also a tale for all humanity. Set at a Thanksgiving dinner, it’s an unflinchingly stark look at one family under the eroding influence of time. Each of them seeks purpose and meaning in his or her own, often-troubled, way – and it’s to playwright Stephen Karam’s credit that they barely get any resolution.
Tension mounts as secrets are revealed, but this isn’t a pot-boiler. Rather it’s a look at the crushing and devastating toll time takes on a family, and what strange, frightening and terrifying creatures we are behind the safety of our make-shift homes. As secrets are revealed, the post 9/11 world of New York City tries to rebuild itself amid the wreckage of time that will not be stilled. The subsequent healing of a family finds difficult fruition in their increasingly-tenuous ties to each other. An aging grandparent, lost to dementia, further shows the relentlessness of time, as does the physical deterioration of the matriarch and the ongoing sickness of a daughter. No one is getting any younger here. Worse than that, even the youngest characters have their unspoken issues, told in omissions and conversations hidden from view.
There is a refreshingly touching take on the overly-sentimentalized notion of marriage, positing the idea that it’s an institution that can be the foundation that keeps everything – even a family on the verge of falling apart – together. That echoes with its own death-like knell, and as with many things happening here it’s an idea that is as poisonous as it is hopeful.
Despite a late-hour revelation, the love among the family is tangible – they even go so far as to sing together at one point. This is ensemble acting at its best – each actor so attuned to their character they know each and every move inside and out. That ease with one another becomes paramount as outside forces – and possibly other-worldly events – threaten with every bump in the night.
Under the masterful direction of Joe Mantello, the play works so well due in no small part to the excellent ensemble. Together, they manage to craft the vibrant beating heart of a family, even in the most doleful of surroundings. Written with a brittle and brutal eloquence, ‘The Humans’ is a dark, modern take on how our own family life can sometimes feel like a foreign land. As evening descends, and a brief glimpse of what may or not be a supernatural being or a neighbor hurries past, it’s difficult to tell who is more scared – the humans on the inside or whatever’s on the outside peering in. As each room goes dark, it illuminates just how alien-like we sometimes seem from a distance, and how reassuringly human too.
There are two things that make me cry: a man proposing to the man he loves, and flash mobs.
Which is why the following video practically melted me into a puddle, Wicked Witch style, with a heart like the Grinch that grew twice its size.
Love is love is love is love is love is love is love…
