Monthly Archives:

May 2017

Andy told me about them first. As is the case these days, I listened and then shoved it from my mind. There is too much sadness to think about it all right now. After a few minutes, the ploy worked: the story was gone from my head. His harrowing tale, more sad than frightening, was successfully purged, and in short order too. Thinking nothing of it, I hopped in the car and drove away, singing along to ‘Hamilton’ (the King of England’s trio of songs are my jams!)

Just as I rounded the turn, mastering my snooty British accent in song no less, I saw them. One dead, one alive. A pair of mourning doves on the road.

Andy had told me he had seen them. A flattened bird, and its partner, refusing to leave its side. Immediately, I burst into tears, as much for the sad lonely bird as anything else that’s been happening lately, and in my rear view window I watched the forlorn dove walk in a little circle. I cannot fathom the frantic desperation of death. My heart cannot stand it.

I returned home and tried to be kinder to Andy. That is all I know how to do when faced with suffering.

The world turned upside down.

The main news of this past week was the culmination and finale of The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star. I had planned to put it to rest in Ogunquit, Maine, one of my favorite places in the world – though plans changed. That’s not all that happened. Let’s go back a bit…

There was perfume in the air.

There was passion, too.

There was the Solomon’s Seal.

There were reflections.

There was fruit salad.

There was sexiness.

There was a boy… before there was a man.

Finally, there were Hunks of the Day, including Parry Glasspool, Lucas Steele, Colt Prattes & Jared North.

It wasn’t until August that we got back on track with my first trip to Rehoboth Beach. It was a wonderful birthday treat, and while I’ve always hated traveling on my birthday, this time it was all right, and may have helped Andy out of a traffic ticket. The beach was spectacular, and I didn’t want our time there to end. Other ports beckoned, however, with returns to DC and Boston. Fall crept into holiday time for the latter, where I hosted a 2^nd annual children’s holiday hour.

The winter of 2017 saw the end of this tour in sight, but not before a lifelong dream was realized: a visit to the desert. I flew to Tucson, AZ and fell under the enchanting spell of the Southwest. The desert exerted a gorgeous force on a destination I’ve had since I was a child. From the wildlife to the vegetation to the beauty on hand at every turn, I was transfixed.

In March, we had the start of several full-circle moments as the tour wound down. First up was this spectacular return to ‘Sunset Boulevard’ and the guy who was never quite mine to get away. Second was my first trip back to Chicago in seventeen years, and a moment that surprised me with its emotional heft.

Fittingly, the final honors of this final tour go to two of my favorite people: my Mom and my husband. She joined me for a wonderful weekend on Broadway in honor of Mother’s Day, and he is joining me for our very last tour stop in Ogunquit, Maine (postponed for the moment, but we shall return!) After that, the next chapter begins…

This weekend, The Delusional Grandeur Tour was set to wind up its almost-two-year run with a very special stop. But before we delve into that, and the changes we had to make, let’s take a look back at all the places we’ve been. It began at home, with the Illuminati Party. I wore lacey underwear, a corset, and antlers. It’s what one does. Summer was high, the pool was open, and the party had just begun.

The first traveling tour stop was Seattle, WA, which I hadn’t visited since 1997. It was just as enchanting as I remembered it, with delicious food, a glimpse at the whales, a garden walk, and the customary magic that comes from revisiting a far-away place.

Mainstays of Boston and New York provided easy get-aways for long weekends, as did our seasonal bookends in Ogunquit, Maine. The Cape Crew, helmed by JoAnn, made for a great stop in Cape Cod.

Madonna was also on tour, and Suzie and I spent a weekend in Boston for that very special ‘Rebel Heart’ concert. Before we knew it, summer was done, and we were closing out the warm and fuzzy season with our annual Ogunquit stop. Chris joined me in New York for a delirious weekend at the Standard, and then the long, cold winter began. Wisely, I avoided traveling very much in the colder months – having been stranded one too many times, and flights canceled and trips ruined due to snowstorms, I tend to lay low during January and February. It worked out well.

By April, I was back on the road, revisiting Washington, DC and then returning to New York for our annual Broadway weekend. It was spring again in Ogunquit, and then an early Red Sox game with Skip. I donned a party hat at the GLSEN Gala in Albany, and summer was off to a rollicking start by the pool, negating the need to travel much. But I wasn’t quite done yet…

GROWING UP, YOU DON’T SEE THE WRITING ON THE WALL

PASSING BY, MOVING STRAIGHT AHEAD, YOU KNEW IT ALL

BUT MAYBE SOMETIME IF YOU FEEL THE PAIN,

YOU’LL FIND YOU’RE ALL ALONE, EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED.

PLAY THE GAME, YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T QUIT UNTIL IT’S WON

SOLDIER ON, ONLY YOU CAN DO WHAT MUST BE DONE…

It began as a whim.

A one-off way to pass spring-break before I was old enough to drink, before I had my own car.

I called it a tour in the style of Madonna, my wanna-be tendencies in full effect, my dreams of being something better than I was that day. It was mostly just a few weekend jaunts to see my friends and stay with them in dorm rooms the size of closets, when I couldn’t afford or find a Super 8 or Motel 6. (I always did love a hotel, no matter how simple or plain.)

But as soon as I christened it a ‘tour’ the world seemed to change, to bend to this flight of fancy. Everything had a new kind of sparkle and gleam. It informed every moment. It changed the way I looked at the world, and in return the world changed the way it looked at me. It gave me an armor, and a character, and a way to maneuver in a shifting social landscape. That something so silly could become something so profound was one of the great cosmic jokes of my life.

YOU KNOW IN SOME WAY YOU’RE A LOT LIKE ME

YOU’RE JUST A PRISONER AND YOU’RE TRYING TO BREAK FREE.

I wanted to do it one last time. When you reach the age of 40, you don’t always know if you’re up for it again, but I had to try. Even if I failed spectacularly, it would be worth it. Even if it all came to nothing, I would have made the journey. Sometimes just going through the motions is enough. It gets you from one place to another. Sometimes that’s all you need to survive to the next morning.

I CAN SEE THE NEW HORIZON UNDERNEATH THE BLAZING SKY

I’LL BE WHERE THE EAGLE’S FLYING, HIGHER AND HIGHER

GONNA BE YOUR MAN IN MOTION, ALL I NEED IS A PAIR OF WHEELS

TAKE ME WHERE THE FUTURE’S LYING, ST. ELMO’S FIRE…

Contrary to the title of the thing, I was not delusional. That was the whole point of this exercise, and the point of it all over the past two decades. I’m not a celebrity, I’m not a star, and I never will be. But each of us has our own grandeur – the grandeur of our small, private lives – and each of us is afforded the ability to shine and burst and sparkle as much as any rock star. How will you access your own grandeur?

BURNING UP, DON’T KNOW JUST FAR I CAN GO

SOON BE HOME, ONLY JUST A FEW MILES DOWN THE ROAD

I CAN MAKE IT, I KNOW I CAN

YOU BROKE THE BOY IN ME, BUT YOU WON’T BREAK THE MAN.

Now that this tour is nearing its completion, I can look back at my touring days with a mixture of fondness, nostalgia, and absolutely no regrets. I did what I had to do, and saw it through! The supreme confidence and belief in yourself that it takes to put your own ass out there was something I’d always been missing – until I pretended I had it. The self-worth and self-importance that I purported to have grew from a mask into my genuine truth. I built things from the outside inward – the opposite and much more difficult path to self-acceptance, but I got there in the end, and that’s all that matters.

JUST ONCE IN HIS LIFE, A MAN HAS HIS TIME

AND MY TIME IS NOW, I’M COMING ALIVE!

I think back to the young guy who embarked on his first ‘tour’ in 1995. At nineteen years of age, he’d only ever kissed one other man. He knew little to nothing of love, yet found himself falling into it at every turn. His hair was jet black, and a little unruly. He drove his parents’ car, with a silk scarf billowing from the antenna, and a clumsy car phone he never did quite learn to use. He would travel to his college friends in upstate New York – Rochester and Ithaca and Potsdam – and he would find the only family who instantly accepted him for who he was – not for who he was trying to be or who the world wanted to see. He wore crazy outfits that he found pretty – shape-shifting and image-drifting whichever way the wind took him. His writing was often sad and serious, and his image sometimes reflected that, but on tour he acted like a star – above everything, shining brightly in the sky, and acting as beacon and bringer of all that sparkled. He was a man in motion, too scared to stay too still for too long, afraid that he might freeze there, afraid that it might mean something, afraid, perhaps, that he might mean something to someone, even if that was all he ever wanted.

I CAN HEAR THE MUSIC PLAYING, I CAN SEE THE BANNERS FLY

FEEL LIKE YOU’RE BACK AGAIN AND HOPE RIDING HIGH…

I CAN CLIMB THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN…

CROSS THE WILDEST SEA…