Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

A new year signals a new start, as well as a clean slate. To make motions in keeping that idea alive throughout the coming months, I’m working on paring down the extra and the excess from our home, as well as from this site. Things have been getting too cluttered and constricted, and I want to breathe space and light into this winter, setting the stage for a return to spring. The days are already getting longer, and while summer is still a long way off, it’s nice to hold it in our hearts as we hunker down for the snowy days and nights that are ahead.

Such editing is where the good stuff is produced. I never used to believe in that until I started re-reading some of these posts. It’s easy to drone on and write hundreds of words, all without really saying anything. Sometimes I think the bulk of this site is fluff and nonsense, whimsical filler to pass the time with some minor artistic merit thrown in every once in a great while. There’s something to be said for frivolity and fluff when done in the right manner and at the right time. There’s something more to be said for an economy of words and expression, when a feeling or insight is delivered without fanfare or flash, and the sparse eloquence results in a more focused and intense experience.

Poetry is like that – the grand sweep and sentiment of entire novels encapsulated in a meticulously assembled shortage of words and spaces. As such, poetry has dazzled and confounded me – a genre I can only fully appreciate with the guidance and expertise of a teacher, and something at which I have largely failed in producing myself. It’s deceptively difficult to do well. It’s not a pop song, it’s not necessarily a rhyme, and it can veer so easily into something trite and silly that I’ve refused to take such a dare.

But I appreciate the form, and will strive to translate that to this website in ways that open up the space, expanding its reach and creating the moments of stillness and quiet that allow words to fully unfurl. It’s a bit of an experiment, and mistakes will be made. That’s the beauty of a blog, and in this now-ancient mode of sharing and expression, I shall endeavor to impart a little of this evolution in style.

There will be time for fanfare later. For now, let’s welcome the new year in stillness and reverence. In the quiet patter of squirrels’ paws on snow. In the pings of ice falling from the bowed flower heads of dried hydrangeas. In the rustling of bare stalks of fountain grass and cup plants, separated from their summer and looking forlornly lonely against a bare sky. Let’s enter this new year with peace and calm, in the way that most of us need a new beginning.

It often happens this way – the bombast and build-up to the end of the year holidays, filled with excitement and hype and mayhem – suddenly followed by the crushing silence and quiet of the break of a new calendar year. I find comfort in the quietude, as novel and disconcerting as it seems to be to many. People would generally be happier if we could learn to live and exist in these pockets of silence, instead of reaching for a phone or something to occupy the mind or the body. Why isn’t it enough to simply sit still and be alone with yourself? In that respect I’ve always been lucky. Being alone and sitting in a quiet space has never been a problem for me. In fact, it’s often my preferred mode of being.

Not to say that I don’t enjoy your company – oh you know I do. But I fear we are losing the ability to be in a place of comfort without a constant source of stimulation or distraction, and so many problems and issues arise when boredom breeds discontent. As a kid, every once in a while, o rainy days mostly, I would wail, ‘I’m so BOOOOOOORED,’ to my mother as she sat at the kitchen table studying or making dinner. I thrashed about and writhed on the floor to no notice or concern, and then it was out of my system. 

I don’t think I’ve been bored a day since. Well, I’m sure I have been, but there’s something very powerful and true to the adage that only boring people get bored. When you can remember and imagine and dream and think, world upon world opens up to you – and if you can read, well, you can go just about anywhere and do just about anything. How one can be bored in a world where we will only ever be able to read but a small fraction of all the books that have been written is beyond my understanding. How could one ever be bored or feel that they’ve done it all with everything the human mind can conjure? A failure of imagination is a dismal failure indeed.

And so we open the brand new year with the space and the silence of a day kept in quiet. Even the space of a few minutes held in relative silence can expand into a portal that gives peace and calm to any hectic activity that might surround you. I’m a little more expansive about it, indulging in about half an hour of mediation each day, and taking the time to stretch and take a few deep breaths throughout the day, even when working in the comfort and peace of home.

A new year is the perfect time to clear the head, to make more head-space for nothing, to pause the constant barrage of information and technology and simply exist. In the moment. In the breath. In the life that we can still hold precious. And maybe we can begin again.

By summer, we were developing a new way of life, isolating amid the pandemic, managing with outside visits, and I wish we’d known what a luxury that was. The hindsight of a full year is seldom a solace, though we will attempt to make the most of it, learning the lessons we needed to learn, adjusting and modifying and evolving for a new world. As we close out this calendar year on the blog, I wish you and your family peace and health and happiness. 

July 2020 – The height of summer found the best pool weather we’ve ever had – day after day of sun and heat, perfectly consistent and unending – as was the continued closure of our pool. We could only find respite in the shaded parts of the garden. 

Patriotic posing.

A summer Sunday of self-care.

Red-hot American recap.

The saddest photos of the summer. 

A shirtless, and waterless, recap. 

It was a summer of anti-racist reckoning, and the work continues. 

Recapping with summer wings.

Andy and I celebrated our 20th anniversary of being together.

A look back at two decades of companionship and love. 

Taylor Swift provided the fittingly low-key soundtrack to the heat of summer. 

Another sad loss in 2020 – our friend Eric. 

A recap in high summer. 

August 2020 – Continuing the stretch of sunny weather at odds with emotions and the state of the world, August brought forth somber beauty and quiet mornings. 

It also brought our pool back from the brink!

Even Madonna makes mistakes.

Summer smelled good.

At last, a poolside recap.

Summer setbacks.

Turning 45 years old in fine and fabulous fashion. 

A turn in the birthday suit.

Popping some cherries. 

September 2020 – On the first day of the month, this recap signaled for me to pause. 

An evening meditation.

My amazing father turned 90 years old. 

Wearing summer out. 

Before the summer ends.

And just like that, fall arrived in fanfare and glory. 

A song named Betty.

A rabbit’s hole of recaps, all of which are worth exploring.

October 2020 – The spooky season was at hand. 

A rocky recap filled with fuckery.

On the day we celebrate a cultural genocide.

Maintaining mindfulness amid the madness of 2020.

An autumnal recap alight. 

Andy’s birthday visitor.

Wrinkled low-hangers and sexual reconciliations informed this recap. 

My first full-year of not drinking alcohol.

November 2020 – It began with a finale.

The world turned upside down and this recap did little to fix it. 

Trump lost the Presidential election more than any other loser in history. 

Finding a way to forgiveness.

Before the holiday mayhem ensues, a look back.

A proper Thanksgiving scandal.

That for which I am the most thankful. 

Boston, 25 years later.

A recap of gratitude.

December 2020 – And so we reach the end of another year that could not end soon enough. Glimmers of light and hope flickered through the darkness. 

Beneath a mystical moon for a few minutes. 

A Christmas river.

A recap hued in silver. 

This year’s holiday card, with special guest appearances by Mom and Dad.

As with much of the year, the Holiday Stroll in Boston was canceled. Or was it…?

Taylor Swift, take two.

Tay Tay sang and I recapped.

A high school holiday memory fueled by Bette Midler.

Champagne sparkle.

Bending time and space, we managed to make The Holiday Stroll 2020 happen after all.

Festive recapping.

Thus ends the year, just in the nick of time. Not going to say it can’t get worse because we all know it can. But I hold hope for something better… Happy New Year to you and yours! Let’s meet back here tomorrow for a fresh start. 

Does anyone really want to look back at this annus horriblis? I sure as fuck don’t, so this annual recap is going to be relatively short and light on links and exposition because I just don’t want be bothered. Looking back has never been a favorite activity of mine, and this year has proven that even more-so. That said, let’s break it down by month – we’ll do six in this post, and six in the next, and then we’ll put this naughty year to bed. (And before everyone complains about these pics being mostly of me, we didn’t get to see anyone else because of COVID, so fuck right the fuck off.) Happy New Year’s Eve everybody!

January 2020: We had no idea what the year had in store for us, and looking back at these entries I exalt in such innocence, such hope, and such absolute ignorance.

It began in hazy fashion, portending the strange unknown. 

Back at the start of the year, ‘Waiting’ for, and by, Madonna was still a thrill. 

A winter fragrance by Jo Malone.

Cathedral windows.

Nude recap.

When the weather matches the moods.

January thaw.

A party post: if I’d known then what was about to happen, how differently would I have written this?

Letter to a friend lost, and a dream of her. 

Candlelit recap.

The finite life of this blog.

Pinpointing that first movie with Skip.

Grapefruit recap.

No booze at the three-month mark. 

February 2020: Ok, I’m already tired of this year. To that end, I’m going to be a little more succinct with the selections, using most of the weekly recaps to take the place of specific posts. Those who care will peruse, those who don’t may excuse. We open the shortest month of the year with this super-posing recap. 

The mindful shower. 

A February gold recap.

Making mindful moments through meditation.

An unfit recap.

It took me 30 years to relax. 

A February recap.

March 2020: The month the world stopped, and it hasn’t been the same since. It began with this recap, before we knew what was about to happen. 

Musical empowerment by Madonna.

This is one of the sadder posts of the year, for soon-to-be-obvious reasons. 

A pretty little recap.

We started washing our hands like we would wash these naked male celebrities. 

Looking back at this post, at the time New York State went into lockdown, I don’t think any of us knew or understood the duration and impact of what we were about to endure. 

The first recap of isolation. 

A place of welcome.

A last recap for March, just like a lamb.

April 2020: The wilderness of spring returned in isolated form. 

Visitors to keep us from being too lonely.

Grab a cup of coffee for this recap.

Before a shower, a rumpled recap: this is my hair in the morning. 

Moving my way through meditation.

Half a year without liquor… and counting. 

A rainy day recap worth a look-see for the underwear link within.

May 2020: My favorite month of the year had a low-key version lived largely in memory. 

A glorious spring recap. 

Our tenth wedding anniversary.

A wedding anniversary recap since we couldn’t be in Boston this year. 

Mother’s Day on Broadway reimagined virtually, Part One and Part Two. 

One of my favorite recaps of the year. 

Looking back through the florals. 

The joy of therapy.

A recap filled with lilacs. 

June 2020: Summer arrived, and with it the requisite traumas of 2020, including an unopened pool.

An  almost-summer garden recap.

Behind our masks, a moment of connection.

A lifelong dream come true.

Here comes the sunny recap.

Reliving the BroSox Adventures with Skip: Part One and Part Two.

Starry, starry summer.

A blazing summer recap.

Eradicating perfectionism. 

A bright and sunny recap…

And summer had only just begun… come back for the rest of the year!

This simple pine bouquet (and owl accoutrements) has been going strong for this entire holiday season, and shows no signs of letting up. Originally I toyed with the idea of adding some flowers to it, but in the end it called for simplicity, and the bare-bones structure of its branches and varied evergreen forms. Bringing the outdoors inside is a bit trickier at this time of the year, and there are far fewer options, which makes me cherish this one a little bit more. 

Once this runs its full course, I’ll switch out the greenery for something similar – I like the way the Eastern pine looks, as well as the clouds of juniper, so maybe I’ll edit even further. Spare and sparse works best in the winter. 

Stop courting darkness.

That’s it.

That’s enough.

Too many New Year’s resolutions are made and broken too quickly. I find it best to keep things simple and accomplished with reasonable effort. And who says that resolutions are just for the start of a new calendar year? Every day should be an opportunity for a new resolution. A year is made much more manageable that way. It’s one of the basic tenets of mindfulness – to live in each moment at hand, doing the little daily rituals of life and being fully aware and invested in each of them. It leaves much less time and space for worry and dread.

Take, for instance, these pictures. They were captured on a night that we lost our power. I was alone while Andy was out getting groceries, and the house was completely dark. I lit a few candles, cozied up in a blanket by the hearth, and made the most of the silence and solitude. We always seem to lose our power at inopportune moments (like the recent Vice Presidential debate when we missed the whole fly imbroglio) and since then I’ve come to expect them. It’s easier to roll with the punches and follow the flow of the river than go against it.

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” – Edith Wharton

Wearing a mask is an act of love. 

And this article said it better than I ever could.

A Winter Bluejay

Sara Teasdale

Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstasy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstasy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstasy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
“Oh look!”
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?

There are always going to be those moments and those people who try to trip you up. 

Like this banana peel left so coincidentally right beside my car door.

Had I not been aware, I might have slipped on it like some silly cartoon, and there are more than a few of you who would have loved to witness that. (You know who you are – hell, I’m one of you. I’ve watched a YouTube video of models wobbling and ultimately falling on the runway more times than I’d like to admit.) It’s human nature, and a rather ugly side of it. I’m just as susceptible as the next person – though I’d like to think I’d never leave a banana peel in such a possibly-precarious position. No, it’s more than like – I most definitely would never leave a banana peel – or any piece of garbage – out in a parking lot or other public place. Littering is gross, and denotes a certain moral failing. 

So what did I do? I stepped gingerly around it. We can make all that choice. In pre-COVID times I might have taken a tissue and picked it up so no one else might befall a cartoon fate, but in this day and age I don’t touch anything on the ground.

Dodging banana peels is a metaphor for much of life lately, and so we continue on the journey…