Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Our pool remains unopened and in need of a new liner (don’t ask) so it’s been turning itself into a green pond of sorts, welcoming and apparently beckoning all sorts of wildlife to make a home of its unchlorinated water. We started off the spring with a visit by two ducks, who were very adamant about trying to nest beneath a poolside juniper. We dissuaded that, repeatedly (though it turns out the whole ‘birds don’t like human scents’ myth is nothing but a myth, as sprays of cologne did not quite keep them at bay). Ultimately, they gave up and moved elsewhere. 

A few weeks went by rather uneventfully until one morning we awoke to find an opossum sitting in the dry shallow end of the pool. Andy had heard it go in during the night, and in the morning hours there it saw, groggy and cranky-looking in the light of day. I felt bad for the thing. Too big to scoop out with the net, we decided to put a wooden plank in so it could climb out. I didn’t want to hurt it in any way – possums eat ticks by the truckload, so I’m very happy to have it patrolling the neighborhood in the night – and I wanted to give it a chance to move out peacefully. 

After consulting some friends, who advised that it would probably sleep during the day, we left it alone in the hope that it would disappear in the night. I would peek over the edge of the pool and peer in to find it at various stations during the day. It had noticed the plank and was sitting beneath it, but other than that made no motions of moving out. I told Andy we would give it one night, and if it wasn’t gone in the morning we would have to be more forceful in our eviction plan.

That evening, after the sun went down and after I went to bed, it made its move and climbed out. There was no sign of it the next morning. That’s my kind of visitor. No muss, no fuss, and just enough contact to be interesting. 

A few months ago someone was being especially kind and generous and said that they visited my site as an escape from rest of the crap they found on social media these days. That meant more to me than all the “nice ass” accolades I’ve accrued over the years, and reminded me of an integral reason I keep on writing a blog when they’ve all but gone extinct. This has been a place where I can creatively allow my writing and photography to flourish in unedited, uncensored, and unmitigated glory. It’s messy at times, and unwieldy, and occasionally unsettling, even for me, but for the most part it’s become a place of comfort where memories can be mused upon when they no longer have the power to hurt us, and the frivolous items that occupy one’s entertainment and enjoyment can be highlighted without judgment or harsh criticism.

In recent months especially, this blog has become a place of peace when the rest of the online world implodes with toxicity and unbridled hate. I find myself spending less and less time on FaceBook and Twitter, settling for the quick post-and-run of a promotional link to whatever is up on this blog. I have been avoiding the comments sections more and more, blocking idiots with wild abandon, and mostly setting up shop in this quiet corner where I can relax and breathe and decompress. It is a blessed place to be, and I am sublimely aware of how lucky I am that this is my main concern and worry. 

Even as more of us are awakening to the reality of what our country has become, there is still a need for innocuous spaces like this, for pockets of beauty, for glimpses of calm, for escape from all the nastiness that is happening on our social media feeds. It’s the closest thing to disconnecting while still maintaining an outlet for creative expression. 

Here, the lilacs still bloom for us.

Here, the music still plays. 

Here, the chance for becoming something better looms on the horizon of hope and promise. 

Here, we can sit in silence beside one another, as connected as one human being can be to another in such socially-distant times. We will figuratively hold each other’s hand through whatever is yet to come, in a land of virtual hugs and imagined hand-shakes, and I will feel a little bit better for it. If you are reading this, thank you for being here. I’m here with you too.

It is with a weary and heavy heart that we begin the month of June. Usually a time of celebration and jubilance, there  is nothing but sadness, doubt and worry based on what our country has become. I wish I had something more uplifting and inspirational to say. I wish I could find something that would inspire those feelings in me, but I’m at a loss. While the world burns around us, I turn more insular, relying on Andy to be strong, to keep us going, and somehow he does. Turning off the television and the computer, I take lots of walks in our small yard, examining each plant and tree, breathing in the sweet scent of the Korean lilacs and squatting down to get a close-up glimpse of the tree peony about to burst forth in bloom if the critters don’t eat her head first. In 2020, anything is possible, no matter how heartbreaking or upsetting. On with the recap…

It was a joke just a week ago, but how prophetic this comparison turned out to be. 

I’m now old enough to remember a more innocent time. Most of us are. 

My virgin brush with a virgin.

A flash mob with a purpose, and you know how they make me cry. 

When the bored get bored.

Whispers from loved ones in the perfume of a flower. 

Floral memories are the sweetest.

A gratuitous glimpse of Julian Morris because some gents deserve more than one glance. 

Remembering a lost mate from childhood. 

I hope we can one day dance again.

Mourning what has become of America.

Hunks of the Day included Dr. Andrew Neighbors, Jim Cooney, Rick Fox, Maxi Iglesias, and Giovanni Pernice.

Anyone with half a head and part of a heart knows that what’s happening in the world right now isn’t right.

It’s a story that has lived in America for centuries, the years and layers of blood embedded in the very soil on which our children are raised. And while we have seen some of its ugliness before, it feels very different now, perhaps because of the leadership in charge. Maybe that’s why while I usually do my best to steer clear from political commentary, I can no longer remain silent, and this website must take a moment to take a stand. 

As a biracial gay man of a certain age, I am well aware of prejudice and marginalization. 

As the son of a doctor and nursing professor, I am also well aware of my privilege, mostly economic, which intersects with and sometimes transcends other issues.

But I will never know what it’s like to be a black person in this country.

I am, however, quite sure that every black person has been treated differently at one time or another because of their race. I know this to be true. You know it too. Deep down… you know it too. We have to start there. 

I’ve seen far too many people playing on the safe side of not taking a stand, or worse, taking a position on each singular incident of riot and protest as if it existed in and of itself, and not part of years of systemic inequality, racial profiling, and derelict leadership. 

Kneeling didn’t work. You said it was disrespectful. And you know what? You further shamed such peaceful acts of protest. Now you are upset about what these protests have become. Think about that. In essence, you don’t want any form of protest, and I understand that. It’s uncomfortable. It’s disturbing. It goes against your beliefs.

But the Boston Tea Party was a riot of destruction.

The Stonewall riot was a riot of destruction.

Each was a movement to bring about the destruction of imbalance and inequality.

Kneeling, it turns out, wasn’t enough. And if you can’t understand the need for these protests, or at the very least be empathetic to why it’s happening, if you are so narrow-minded as to treat these actions as criminal acts that are happening outside of a cycle of historical oppression, then I respectfully request that you take a moment and think about the real history of America. This country was built on such oppression. Racism has been woven into the fabric of our existence. We have perpetuated it in ways overt and hidden, in the basic make-up of our social strata, in how and where we live. 

I’m trying to figure out the best way to navigate a life that accepts everyone openly and without judgment. Quite often, I fail miserably. But I’m still going to try. A long time ago I read “A People’s History of the United States of America” by Howard Zinn. A white man wrote about what atrocities the European settlers inflicted on the Native Americans, and later how the insidious stain of slavery bled through everything leading up to the riots of the 1960’s and beyond. The story continues to this day. The fight is necessary. The violence erupts when passive resistance goes unheeded, and the murders of black people continue to happen. 

Black Lives Matter. We should all be saying that, and without qualifying it by saying Blue Lives Matter or All Lives Matter. That intentionally misses the point of the movement, as well as trying to once again erase the ugly parts of our country’s history. It’s time to acknowledge that, and make motions to see our own prejudices and privilege, as well as understanding the need to push back when justice continues to languish. 

People seem to be going stir-crazy right now. I’d love to be going to Boston every other weekend, seeing shows on Broadway, flying to Savannah or California, and going to the movies or out to dinner. Of course I miss those things, but it’s not an onerous punishment to be staying at home. Some people have indicated they are getting bored. It’s always been my opinion that only boring people get bored.

There are more books in the world than can ever be read, more music than can ever be heard, more nuances in the texture of a single ceiling if you know how to look and examine and explore the wondrous working of the mind.

When I was a kid every once in a while I’d work myself into a state where I would think I had nothing new to do, and I’d whine and complain to my mother that I was so bored. Wisely, my mother ignored my aimless whining, allowing me to work through it on my own. It sucked and I hated it, but it made me a better person. I learned patience. I learned quiet. I learned how to be ok sitting still and doing nothing. And for all of my adult life, I have been able to enjoy being quiet and doing nothing. There is such a sense of peace in that. I don’t see that in today’s youth, nor in some of my own generation. People freak out if there’s no television or wifi. They can’t stand to have a few minutes of stillness and silence.

I think it’s because we have been conditioning ourselves to be constantly stimulated and occupied. I never needed that, and I’m much happier because of it. Too many people are tormented by their inability to simply be – to sit in the stillness, to sit in the company of yourself, to be quiet and to be ok with the silence. When you can do that, it’s almost impossible to be bored. Every moment and every situation is the opportunity to return to yourself and the little space you’ve made in the universe. 

And if you’re still bored after exploring the interior of your mind, just go on TikTok and follow @alanilagan already.