Monthly Archives:

March 2019

Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

It always feels wrong to listen to ‘Manic Monday’ on any day other than Monday.

But every day is right to ‘Walk Like An Egyptian.’

[Cue the whistling part.]

Strike a pose on a Cadillac.

#TinyThreads

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A Mercurial Recap

Disruptive Mercury is once again in retrograde, where it shall remain for much of the month of March. Hold on to your hats and underwear as we try to ride this one out (unless you’re featured ginger Seth Fornea). If you’re still recovering from too much partying on St. Patrick’s Day, HA HA. I’m apoplectic, on with the recap…

The Bloodstone Bracelet: Not Another Nancy Drew Mystery or Harry Potter Prequel (I don’t care who Dumbledore fucked). 

Go to any one of these posts, click on the “#TinyThreads” link at the bottom of each, and see how far back you can go. It’s like a little Fuck Your Own Adventure series.  

Paint the town something. 

It was Skip’s birthday, and it was grand. 

One-two princes stand before you. 

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

The Madonna Timeline returned with a bang: this is ‘American Life.’ 

Hot-ass gingers for your St. Patrick’s Day viewing pleasure. 

Hunks of the Day included such hotties as Takaya Honda, Jim Brickman, Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon, Kyle Cooke, and Graysen Quinn

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

‘Be My Baby’ – used in more movie set-up montages than any other song in recent memory. Why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why… do fools fall in love with fools like you?

“We’ll make them turn their heads everywhere we go…”

#TinyThreads

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A Hot Ginger Post for St. Patty’s Day

May the luck of the gingers be with you today! I’ve long since retired from celebrating this holiday with pub crawl, so this racy redhead post will have to provide all the excitement for the day. Personally, I think it’s much better than warm green beer.

We begin with one of our most recent ginger success stories: Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon, the ‘American Idol’ contestant who captured the hearts of the country with his sweet original composition.

Perennial ginger favorite Seth Fornea gets the featured photo placement, and this additional shot simply because he maintains his smoldering carrot-top (and carrot-midsection) flavor.

One of the greatest gingers ever to be featured here in nude glory was Greg Rutherford. See his naked ass here. 

Broadway wonder Ricky Schroeder bared his beautiful bottom in this angelic post

Actor and Twitter-phenom Daniel Newman made a dirty-ginger splash in this Hunk of the Day redux

Witness the red-locked dreaminess of Race Imboden in this Olympic post

Last year, Thomas Brady was Hunk of the Day on St. Patrick’s Day, and he is worth a re-look. 

The year before that, Asger Skovgaard stuffed his gingerness into some briefs

One hot-ass ginger

Bringing ginger glory to RuPaul’s Pit Crew, Bryce Eilenberg burns up every post he’s in – see it all here

Ginger recollection.

Football ginger Jon Ryan brings hue and length to the sexy scene. 

Red-blooded and red-headed Eddie Eduardo brings up his banging ginger rear to end this post. Happy St. Patrick’s Day (and apologies to the Saint who most likely didn’t deserve this). 

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

This may be an unpopular stance, but I am NOT here for a Britney Spears Broadway musical.

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The Madonna Timeline: Song #148 – ‘American Life’ ~ Spring 2003

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

It was autumn of 2002. Andy and I were on one of our fall trips to Ogunquit, Maine. I was browsing in an antique store when the proclamation came over the radio. Between an ancient case of costume jewelry and a box of plastic-covered sepia-toned movie posters, I paused as the announcement interrupted the music. America was going to war. It struck me how old-fashioned the world suddenly felt. Even though this was the era before FaceBook and Twitter and social media as we now ubiquitously know it, an emergency message over the radio felt like a nostalgic throwback to another time. The imminent war also heralded the return of American soldiers to losing their lives in such regularity that we would become numb to it.

By the time the spring of 2003 arrived, the country had reconciled itself to a fate that felt impossible to escape. Duped by the war-happy GOP-led administration, national pride in the aftermath of 9/11 led to all sorts of evil decisions and hapless public support. Despite the objections of sensible people, despite the unnecessary cost of a war based on unreliable data and outright lies, America embarked upon a War on Terror – a war which is being waged to this very day. Such was the battle-drawn background of Madonna’s ‘American Life’ album, and the scene into which the lead single of the same name was dropped.

DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME? 
WILL IT GET ME FAR? 
SHOULD I LOSE SOME WEIGHT? 
AM I GONNA BE A STAR?

Spring was in the air – it smelled of possibility, of hope, and of a new beginning. I had been working at the Thruway Authority in an office full of men – a far cry and another world away from the office I had left, which had been filled mostly with women. I had free parking about 50 feet from the building entrance and was able to drive myself to work – a luxury of independence that I both cherished and fought against. (It’s nice to be driven around, especially in the cruel cold of winter or the blazing heat of summer; coming out to a car parked in an unsheltered lot all day in either situation is a pain in the ass.)

I was somewhat new to the job, and as I moved up in my state career every fresh start would be familiar territory, though never comfortable. It’s tough to be the new guy in the office, especially in your early 20’s. Shot through with insecurity, I leaned on my go-to inspiration for all those times when an extra dose of confidence was needed: Madonna. Her new album was being released, and after the block-buster success of her last musical endeavor, the ‘Music‘ album, it seemed she was ripe for a full-on embrace of Mirwais, the French electro-pop genius whose stuttering, vocoder-heavy work was the sound of the future.

I TRIED TO BE A BOY, 
I TRIED TO BE A GIRL 
I TRIED TO BE A MESS, 
I TRIED TO BE THE BEST 
I GUESS I DID IT WRONG, 
THAT’S WHY I WROTE THIS SONG 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR ME? 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR FREE?

Once upon a time, controversy meant nothing but success for Madonna. Think the ‘Like A Virgin‘ scandal, the ‘Papa Don’t Preach‘ maelstrom, the’Like A Prayer‘ explosion, the ‘Justify My Love‘ brouhaha, the ‘Erotica‘ album and ‘Sex‘ book – all of them were controversial and sometimes polarizing, and all were more or less splashy successes. (Even if some were critically drubbed, all of them made Madonna a pretty penny.)

When ‘American Life’ came on the scene, at such a questionable time of war and American pride, it found Madonna uncharacteristically pulling the video to avoid the commercial death of the Dixie Chicks who had had the audacity to criticize President Bush. The mind reels at such an innocent thought. Madonna made a wise decision in that respect, but the damage had been done, and mainstream radio turned on her, and has yet to really come back. Strangely enough, the song ‘American Life’ is not, in itself, overtly political. Madonna herself hasn’t always been broadly political – she’s usually followed the egotist’s path of being personally political. Despite its outward trappings and video, the song is more of a personal exploration of Madonna’s own way of living in the American landscape, seen at a different vantage point after having spent some time in England.

SO, I WENT INTO A BAR LOOKING FOR SYMPATHY 
A LITTLE COMPANY – I TRIED TO FIND A FRIEND 
IT’S MORE EASILY SAID IT’S ALWAYS BEEN THE SAME 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR ME? 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR FREE?
 

In retrospect, the album has shifted and evolved in how it was, and has been, received and perceived. Initial reviews were, generally, positive. As is my wont, I raved and raptured over it, proclaiming it Madonna’s electronic pastoral, and most of the songs still hold up quite well. But after the first flush of fleeting success (it debuted at #1) and an impressive round of promotional appearances (witness her record store performances and that MTV special) it quickly plummeted, and the lead single barely cracked the top forty. Much of the problematic stuff and negative reports stemmed from the â’American Life’ single, which was blazingly wonky and brilliantly imperfect. Most people panned the rap portion of the song; I found it charming enough (she rapped in ‘Vogue’ too and no one batted a perfectly-shaded eye). The juxtaposition of electro-clash noise with the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar proved too much for listeners and were perhaps just too far ahead of their time.

AMERICAN LIFE 
I LIVE THE AMERICAN DREAM 
YOU ARE THE BEST THING I’VE SEEN, 
YOU ARE NOT JUST A DREAM

Hindsight and factual reports of those early years of the new millennium reveal the terrifying depth to which the American public was so criminally deceived by the Republicans in power. It was over a decade and a half ago, but so much rings so true today. It’s exhausting and disappointing to think of how little we have evolved, and how the basic tenets of evil – fear, greed, and a desire for power – continue to coalesce and corrupt our world. In this age of our illegitimate President, the American ambition portrayed in this song is indeed not just a dream.

I TRIED TO STAY AHEAD,
I TRIED TO STAY ON TOP 
I TRIED TO PLAY THE PART,
BUT SOMEHOW I FORGOT 
JUST WHAT I DID IT FOR 
AND WHY I WANTED MORE 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR ME? 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR FREE?

That said, politics rarely makes for good music. Not the kind I’m interested in hearing anyway. I need something more personal, more resonant to the human experience. To that end, ‘American Life’ is masterful, portraying the seeds of doubt and insecurity that can lead to world domination or oblivion. There’s a dangerously fine line between them. When removed from its incendiary video, the song is rife with self-doubt and tension. Just when you think it might resolve or dissolve into something resembling resolution, the sonic swords strike again, musical guns on blast, and the battle for dominance re-engages.

DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME? 
WILL IT GET ME FAR? 
SHOULD I LOSE SOME WEIGHT? 
AM I GONNA BE A STAR? 
AMERICAN LIFE 
I LIVE THE AMERICAN DREAM 
YOU ARE THE BEST THING I’VE SEEN, 
YOU ARE NOT JUST A DREAM

Coming off of two successful albums (‘Ray of Light‘ and ‘Music‘) Madonna found herself at an interesting cross-road. Rather than playing things safe, she dove deeper into the brilliant madness of Mirwais and his musical mayhem, fully embracing the producer’s futuristic hand while tempering it all with her growing guitar obsession. In that sense, the ‘American Life’ album was an artistically bold move. The title track and lead single encapsulated all of it. There was a decent beat, once it kicked it, and the dance remixes would bounce along at racing BPM, but the song and the album weren’t made for dancing. America wasn’t in the mood to dance, and neither was Madonna.

I TRIED TO BE A BOY,
I TRIED TO BE A GIRL 
I TRIED TO BE A MESS,
I TRIED TO BE THE BEST 
I TRIED TO FIND A FRIEND, 
I TRIED TO STAY AHEAD 
I TRIED TO STAY ON TOP…
FUCK IT… 
DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME? 
WILL IT GET ME FAR? 
SHOULD I LOSE SOME WEIGHT? 
AM I GONNA BE A STAR?
FUCK IT. FUCK IT. FUCK IT.

In the ensuing years, the ‘American Life’ album has ripened into a fan favorite, revered along the lines of ‘Erotica’ which also had a rocky journey to its classic status. In her ‘Tears of a Clown’ codas near the end of the ‘Rebel Heart Tour‘ she revisited a number of ‘American Life’ selections, including ‘Intervention‘ and ‘Easy Ride‘ and fans were ecstatic. After the Reinvention Tour, she had largely steered clear of ‘American Life’ cuts, and she has yet to embrace the title song since that first flush in 2003/2004. It’s worth another look, if only because it’s unlike anything she’s done before or since, especially the next part:

I’M DRINKING A SOY LATTE 
I GET A DOUBLE SHOTTE
IT GOES RIGHT THROUGH MY BODY 
AND YOU KNOW 
I’M SATISFIED,
I DRIVE MY MINI COOPER 
AND I’M FEELING SUPER-DOOPER 
YO THEY TELL I’M A TROOPER 
AND YOU KNOW I’M SATISFIED 

At some point we all mentally run through the things we’ve accumulated and accomplished in our lives. This exercise of nostalgia or simple stock-taking can be exhausting or inspiring, depending on the mood and the way in which we want to quantify anything we’ve done. Madonna’s tick-list is larger and grander and more eventful than the majority of ours, but it’s also remarkably human and mundane. Her concerns are at once small and significant, superficial and complex, contradictory and consistent. From Mini Coopers to Metaphysics, she runs through the gamut of life at the turn of the millennium. Looking back, we’ve been on this rocky road for a long time – too long – and the cracks and pot-holes have grown exponentially disastrous.

I DO YOGA AND PILATES 
AND THE ROOM IS FULL OF HOTTIES 
SO I’M CHECKING OUT THE BODIES 
AND YOU KNOW I’M SATISFIED 
I’M DIGGING ON THE ISOTOPES 
THIS METAPHYSIC SHIT IS DOPE 
AND IF ALL THIS CAN GIVE ME HOPE 
YOU KNOW I’M SATISFIED 

On some level she knows her laundry list is ridiculous, and there is more than a little wink behind the infamous rap. It’s over-the-top, it’s too much, it’s silly and it’s profound. It’s what she knows, in all the limited and expansive glory that is Madonna’s world. It inspires neither envy nor empathy. America was messy then, as it’s messy now. Maybe it’s always been that way. Anyone who makes a success of themselves in this land has had to get messy at one point or another. As she runs through her accomplishments and accruals, things get more frenzied and insistent before finishing with a nihilistic revoking of the reality/realization that all is illusion.

I GOT A LAWYER AND A MANAGER 
AN AGENT AND A CHEF 
THREE NANNIES, AN ASSISTANT 
AND A DRIVER AND A JET 
A TRAINER AND A BUTLER 
AND A BODYGUARD OR FIVE 
A GARDENER AND A STYLIST 
DO YOU THINK I’M SATISFIED?
I’D LIKE TO EXPRESS MY EXTREME POINT OF VIEW 
I’M NOT A CHRISTIAN AND I’M NOT A JEW 
I’M JUST LIVING OUT THE AMERICAN DREAM 
AND I JUST REALIZED THAT NOTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS 

Still, dreams are requisite ways of getting through the day, American or not. Yes, the idea of a Ice Blue Show Princess Mini Cooper was sewn in my head then, but it was only a wish. My Kicky Blue Gumdrop Impreza would go a couple more years, and the ‘American Life’ CD would ring loudly from within as spring warmed into summer. As soon as the rap fizzled and the electro-explosions faded out, the birds of ‘Hollywood‘ flew into the air. We bopped along to the music of Mirwais, seeking our next acquisition, our next fix, our next material obsession.

The world was on fire and all we could do was watch it burn.

DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME?
AM I GONNA BE A STAR?
DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME?
AM I GONNA BE A STAR? 
DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME?

 

SONG #148: ‘American Life’ – Spring 2003

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

My PSA for the Day: if you’re an allergy-sufferer like myself, it’s almost time for the seasonal shift to begin wreaking its havoc. To give myself a fighting chance against the pollen storms, I start my allergy pill routine now, to build up as much resistance as I can before the big pile-on of allergens. Just a little hint that has worked out well in the past. If you wait until the first time you feel a sneeze attack coming on, it’s probably too late. Nothing worse than playing catch-up in the spring. 

Call me fucking Heloise. 

#TinyThreads

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The Little Prince

“I have suffered too much grief in setting down these memories. Six years have already passed since my friend went away from me, with his sheep. If I try to describe him here, it is to make sure that I shall not forget him. To forget a friend is sad. Not everyone has had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown-ups who are no longer interested in anything but figures…” ~ Antoine De Saint-Exupery, ‘The Little Prince’

Speaking of princes, that book that we “traded” for the copy that Suzie’s brother had was never even read by us. ‘The Little Prince’ would stay on our bookshelf for years, untouched with pages unturned, and I didn’t return to it until Suzie loaned me her version – a much nicer hardcover edition with pictures, as originally published. In preparation for an upcoming project, I opened it and read the story for the first time. All these years later, I was brought back to childhood – to the wonder and amazement of reading a classic story for the first time. (I also have a costume idea for a future party, because this little Prince has a sense of fashion that is elegant, refined, and just the slightest bit whimsical. The coat pictured here is divinity in progress. I just need to find the wizard who can make one. All able thread magicians are encouraged to contact me. Looking at you, Christian Siriano.)

“If someone loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself: ‘Somewhere, my flower is there…’ But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened… And you think that is not important!”

He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing…

I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.

It is such a secret place, the land of tears. ~ Antoine De Saint-Exupery, ‘The Little Prince’

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

A fitting ornamental accompaniment to an itinerary for a trip to Savannah is a watercolor peach blossom. Georgia peaches, y’all.

#TinyThreads

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Two Princes

My brother and I were hellions in a number of ways growing up – none more-so than when our parents had to go out and leave us with a babysitter. We went through a cadre of babysitters, a number of whom ended up in tears at some point in our time together. We had a knack for torture, and most of them never told on us. I don’t know why. Suzie’s older brothers each babysat just once. Tim was terrified of our German shepherd Crystal, so our parents warned us not to let the dog in while he was in charge. We gave Tim about three minutes before we let the dog in; he promptly ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Eventually, we put the dog in the garage and Tim came back out. Eventually.

Andy was not afraid of the dog, so we had to find another trick for him. He arrived with a copy of ‘The Little Prince’ which he read to us (at least, a bit of it). We recognized the book because we had a copy of it too. We brought out our version and compared them. They were identical but for a black star on the back of his. Of course, we wanted his version, the one with the black star, and we begged him to trade us. He was not having it, so we gave up and waited.

Whether it was a bathroom stop or dinner preparation, at one point he left the room and it was then that we pounced. With a black marker, I drew a wobbly star on our copy of the book, then put his copy back in our library. We said nothing, assuming we would get caught before he left for the night, but he never noticed, and as he left with our copy we thrilled at the trick we had played on him. Hopefully it wasn’t a library book…

Aside from the book, Andy escaped relatively unscathed. A switched-out book was nothing compared to the horror/obstacle course we set up for a neighbor in our basement, or the vaguely suicidal gesture I made using a few allergy pills. It was a more innocent time then.

I won’t get into the grief we gave family members who ended up watching over us, especially Uncle Roberto who put up with more bullshit than anyone other than our parents. As an Uncle myself, I feel that the twins are as much karma for my bad behavior as they are for their father. Neither of us is ready for what is about to come.

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Is this even remotely true?

#TinyThreads

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The Birthday of an Old Friend

It was one of those moments where nothing more needed to be said. We had just finished a movie and were walking to the Skip’s car. The wind was brutal, the temperature was well below freezing, and the night was dismal. Hurrying inside, I pulled my coat tighter around me as Skip started the car. 

“I hate going to the movies in winter,” he said with a note of sadness in his voice. “It’s so much better in the summer.”

There was no better way to convey the discontent near the end of winter in upstate New York. It was why we had spent the earlier part of the evening plotting and planning possible weekends for our annual Boston Red Sox adventure, picturing a warmer world on the brink of summer again. 

There’s nothing better than planning future adventures with an old friend. Suddenly it struck me, in the wretched cold and dark of a February night: we were old friends. We’d known each other for almost a decade and a half. (That’s the thing about old friends: they take years to find.) Now, at the end of an evening, with no need for inane filler babble, we coasted to the last weeks of winter, sustaining ourselves through the dark season with whiskey and beer and the odd appetizer. (Still no new decaffeinated soda selections at the concession stand. And why is it called a concession stand anyway? What are we conceding? Our health? Things that make you go to a movie expert like Skip…)

Last year he turned 40, and that fun party was the unofficial kick-off to spring. Coming as it does one week before the real deal, Skip’s birthday has become the earliest signs that winter is receding, that the world will be bright and sunny again, that there is hope left after all. That’s sort of symbolic of what Skip is to many of us ~ an eternal font of hope and optimism. He’s a perpetual example of how the planning and plotting and dreaming is as much a part of the journey as the destination ~ and sometimes not getting where you originally thought you wanted to be can be the best move we never make.

Happy Birthday Skip ~ and many happy returns of the day!

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Albany Real and Imagined

Albany Pride is a tricky thing. There’s so much this area has to offer, and so much it doesn’t. I suppose the same could be said for any city anywhere, so I’ll err on the side of praise and promise. No sense in pissing off the city where you live. There are more than enough to critique and condemn. We’ll steer clear of that here, at least for today. I’m feeling charitable.

When the time moves forward and spring is in the air, the city turns onto the road to beautiful again. We will shake the dirt and salt of winter off our shoes (and cars) and start walking at lunch again. The crocus will come up in the warmer and more protected spots and soon enough the grass will be green again. It will be time to paint a scene like this. And so we hold on to our hometown…

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Bracelet of Bloodstone

It was just a matter of time before I got around to embracing crystals. In fact, it may not be so much discovering them as returning to a minor passion of my youth, when gems and semi-precious stones caught my fancy. Back then, it was a science class where were examined the various minerals and rocks that introduced me to this world. I was obsessed with the way calcite broke into neat, uniform parallelograms, and how writing would be doubled when viewed through a thin-enough piece of it. I was transfixed with the gleam and sparkle of pyrite, happily fooling myself into trusting its golden show. I dug in the woods behind our home and found the smallest bit of rock that contained a bit of mica – shiny and flaking off in thin sheets. And I was enthralled with the tale of how a friend had found a perfectly-formed quartz crystal in his backyard, then brought it into class to show everyone. That such beautiful objects also held some sort of power was simply too good to feel true. I stopped short of the New Age worship that some crystal-lovers practiced, because I wasn’t quite ready to put all my faith in crystals.

I’m still not. My brain is too wary of such magic. Part of me understands on a fact-based level that a piece of stone has no literal power to sway my life in any way. But this isn’t about the literal. This is about the power one imbues to a talisman or object that gives it a different life, and in return it inspires or changes something in you. That can be quite literal. Sometimes belief begets transformation. I’ve done this many times – every time I walk into work for example – and it can be a powerful way of getting to where you want to be.

The stones that make up this bracelet (found at Tushita Heaven in Saratoga – a wondrous shop that you should definitely visit) are Bloodstone, said to aid in Personal Healing: “It stimulates the immune system, builds courage and raises self-esteem, teaching that all is at it should be. Bloodstone transmutes negative memories into positive actions, working gently as it cleanses and purifies. Bloodstone makes us aware that adverse conditions in our lives are often illusions.”

That sounds about perfect for what I need. What we all need. I feel better already.

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