Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Red-Hot American Recap

Power to the people.

And remember, it’s not enough to simply not be racist.

We must be anti-racist. Actively anti-racist. 

That’s the America we need to be great again. 

On with the recap of our patriotic week…

It began with a sunny mango salsa.

A definite contender for song of this summer.

Sweet & savory, fruit & meat.

The wonder of woodland spirit

Losing out on lindens.

Magenta was the mood.

Naked before the mirror of the past.

Salvation by salvia.

The mood shifts to lavender.

Wearing the freedom Speedo, and a whole lot less.

Back to shirtless, hunky basics.

A self-care Sunday.

Hunks of the Day included Dato Foland, Ben Aldridge, Jake Bain, Dolvett Quince, Chris & Ian, and Brian J. White.

PS – If there’s ever a choice, choose love. 

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A Sunday of Self-Care

The true narcissists and egotists of the world make every day about themselves. 

The rest of us, the wanna-be narcissists and pretend egotists, carve out special days in which to make ourselves feel a bit better. 

The more-enlightened don’t need a day or even a moment for themselves – they exist in the present and that’s all they need. 

I’m somewhere in-between these circles, so I’ll take a Sunday of self-care, which these days means just taking things a little easier. When thrashing out some of my not-quite-successful efforts at self-improvement with my therapist recently, she reminded me of what I’d already accomplished, and wondered whether I was being too hard on myself. The Virgo in me sees nothing wrong with wanting to be better; the human in me is starting to realize that the whole Virgo thing needs to be adjusted. 

And so we have reached Sunday, the day of rest.

A day to savor the simpler things.

The beauty of the world.

As seen in this exquisite box made by my friend Meredith, which I purchased for the holidays as a gift for Andy. Comprised of gorgeous paper she has traveled the world to procure, it stands on the table beside which I meditate, where a stick of Palo Santo incense unfurls its ethereal smoke coils. 

Through my half-closed eyes and deep breathing, the flowers and cranes and colors dance hazily in scenes of beauty as I try to clear my head. The best thing to occupy the senses when darker thoughts threaten to encroach is a thing of beauty. 

The box is a work of art, and not only on the outside. Lifting the lid there is more beauty to be found inside. Placid water scenes, flowers from other seasons, worlds contained within worlds… I like that there is still more to be seen and discovered if you slow down and look deeper. The charm and surprise and variety of life, and of what life hides just beneath the lid, is a large part of what keeps me entertained and enthralled by this world. 

Grounded in new ways, I sit on the floor in front of this box – a box that could contain nothing and everything – and I begin my meditation. A moment of self-care, framed in a room of beauty. 

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Back to Hunky Basics

Somewhere along the way, 2020 derailed the superficial fun that was previously populating most of the blog posts here, so let’s get back to shirtless, superficial fun, and the simple appreciation of the half-naked human body that God gave to each and every one of us. Ok, so maybe the bodies are all different and mine doesn’t quite approach the perfection seen here, but it’s still fun to look, to appreciate, to admire and extol. Here are some previous Hunks of the Day, some of whom go back all the way to 2012, because we’ve been doing this a long time.

First up is one of the greatest male models of all time – Tyson Beckford – who originally came on the scene in the supermodel explosion of the 90’s and hasn’t gone anyway in all these ensuing years. Check out his first Hunk of the Day crowning here.

A gay super-couple is something my soap-opera-loving childhood self would have absolutely loved, after the initial shock and aww. Here we have Ricky Martin and Jwan Josef, beaching it together like lovers do.

Lounging in tighty-whities is a skill that every male model has mastered at some point in their career, they’re simply not a proper male model. Choi Ho Jin does so stunningly as seen here and in his original Hunk of the Day post.

In this battle of the naked male butts, we’re pitting a nude Julian Morris against a naked Pietro Boselli. It’s like the Sophie’s Choice of nude male bottoms

Nathan Owens made his own soap opera splash, and shows it all off in his Hunk of the Day crowning

Tom Holland lends some shirtless male celebrity movement to this post from one of his Spiderman turns

Entertainment impresario Fran Tirado wears many fabulous hats, as evidenced in his Hunk of the Day feature

And taking pride of place as the finale, David Agbodji did his Calvins proud in his crowning as Hunk of the Day

 

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A Country, A Backyard, and a Body – Under Construction

Happy Birthday America. 

And get well soon.

You haven’t been great in a few years, but the good people of the world still have faith. We still believe in the greatness upon which you were founded. True freedom. Authentic equality. Liberty for all. 

A land that has no place for hate

A land that welcomes everyone who wants to make a better life for themselves. 

A land where this pansy-ass half-Filipino faggot was denied marrying the man he loved for the first ten years of their relationship – but where we eventually made it happen. That doesn’t negate all the years it took to get here.

And so I continue to push the freedoms we have, for those who still don’t have them. Whether it’s their family predicament, or the bigotry, racism, or homophobia around them, we will always seek something better. That’s the real essence of the American dream. 

And so we keep trying. We keep working on it. We keep on keeping on.

Like our hollowed out pool, rusted and lined with sand, awaiting its new incarnation, we just need a little tune-up. 

Like my forty-four-year-old half-naked body, ravaged by the relentless march of time, by restless nights, harsh mornings, and needless worry – on incessant display because that’s the American way. Fake it until you make it.  

We will rise. Like stars, shimmering in a dark firmament, following the moon, following the sun, following the centuries and the civilizations…

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A Lavender Patriot

It’s the 4th of July, but ever since Gram passed away on this day eleven years ago, some of its luster has been rubbed dull. Coupled with the sorry state of our country these days, it doesn’t feel like there’s much to celebrate. Don’t cast doubt on my patriotism; it’s still here, still part of my heart and make-up, instilled by an immigrant father who inherently loved the opportunities this country gave him to raise a family. But America has its problems, and maybe we are just awakening to admitting it and not being seen as heretics for the realization, at long last. It’s time.

And so we won’t be doing some empty patriotic posturing (though I may slip into a red, white and blue speedo a little later). Everyone does the 4th in their own way. Instead of going full-on red or full-on blue as America seems to be forcing in full-on binary fashion, we are finding a pleasant melding of things in this lavender-tinged post. Take out the human rules and restrictions, refocus on the natural world, and all falls neatly into place. Let’s shift from the political to the personal, from the world stage to the microcosmic gardens of our little backyard. That’s where the lavender blooms this week.

My summer dreams of lining our pool border with lavender and herbs went out the window while waiting for the new liner to be installed. (Update: the wait continues. But the steps are roughly done!) We may be putting a light in, so the garden will be dug up and destroyed, which is why I didn’t bother with putting any lavender in yet. We have a couple of plants that have survived over the years, and they are in bloom now. All one needs for a proper garnish is a single flower stalk. Thank goodness, because that’s about all that we have.

Near the lavender is a small patch of mint. It’s small for now but if unchecked will march defiantly beyond its allotted space. For now, I can crush a bit of the lavender, and a bit of the mint, and the fragrance is refreshing, exquisite, and enchanting. It is a lovely melding of two aromas, each distinct, and each contributing to the perfumed wonder of something beautiful. 

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The Salvia Salve

It appears that this purple salvia is a salve for many, healing hurt and providing comfort and succor for the birds and bees that traverse our front and back yards. Here we see a bee visiting its hospitable bloom, and the purple flower spires have also attracted hummingbirds, which was really the whole point of planting them this year. I’ve only caught one hovering near the front yard container, and Andy had one come very close to him in the back yard, a brief brush as if it was saying hello. They flit away so quickly it feels like a magical experience you’re not really sure you even had. 

There is a fuchsia plant, whose name escapes me at the moment, that has long tubular flowers which the hummingbirds adore. I couldn’t find it in the nurseries this year so I settled for the salvia, which has become an impressive show-off in its own way. Proof that being flexible is usually the best thing to be, especially when it comes to gardening. 

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Gorgeous Mirror Madness from the Past

“Maybe we look into mirrors not merely to seek beauty, regardless how illusive, but to make sure, despite the facts, that we are still here. That the hunted body we move in has not yet been annihilated, scraped out. To see yourself still yourself is a refuge men who have not been denied cannot know.” ~ Ocean Vuong, ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’

“I read that beauty has historically demanded replication. We make more of anything we find aesthetically pleasing, whether it’s a vase, a painting, a chalice, a poem. We reproduce it in order to keep it, extend it through space and time. To gaze at what pleases – a fresco, a peach-red mountain range, a boy, the mole on his jaw – is, in itself, replication – the image prolonged in the eye, making more of it, making it last. Staring into the mirror, I replicate myself into a future where I might not exist.” – Ocean Vuong, ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’

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Magenta is the Mood

Only true fans of ‘The Golden Girls’ will get that reference, but those who get it, get it good.

The mood of the week, and the summer thus far, is magenta. 

I happen to like magenta, but I’m suspending that preference for the purpose of this post.

The featured photo is of one of the many rainstorms we’ve had this week. Such a tumultuous stretch of variable weather, all the while Mercury remains in retrograde, wreaking all sorts of havoc. I’m in the office two days this week, which makes laying low difficult, but I’ll do my best. It’s vital not to cause a commotion  when this time of planetary trickery is upon us, and it’s set to last until mid-July. 

Moods in my house, like the weather, are variable as well. Best not to ruffle those feathers right now, best to lay low there too. And I’m speaking as much for me as for anyone. Susceptibility to the whims of magenta is high. Mercury rides backward from outward appearances. Summer revels in her mystery. 

The storms swirl around the sand that lies exposed in the bottom of our empty pool. 

Steps are being made. Steps are being taken. 

Summer steps, that may one day catch the lapping of crystalline water, sparkling in the summer sun, rippling beneath the chlorinated clarity of the past and future, each as hazy and lovely as the present.

A present that is presently magenta. 

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Linden Lost

When you get to be my age, you find yourself wishing time would slow down. Or simply feel like it was slowing down. Working from home has only served to hasten its pace. Previous markers of time were made on a weekday basis: Monday through Friday we would drive past the same homes and gardens, and I could examine the slow creep of their growth and change. When passing them once a week, things seem to move much faster. That’s not good when you’re tottering on the dangerous precipice of middle age. No one wants to start the downhill slide to death with any unnecessary pushes.

I thought of that as I was walking in downtown Albany the other day. The linden trees had come into bloom and were almost done. Their fragrant perfume had already been largely spilled. Usually it linger sin the air for several days, but I could only smell these when I got up close. For many years I never knew what the delicious perfume was at this time of the year. It always made me smile – I attributed it to some magical gay pride fairy that wanted all the world to feel happy and, well, gay. It took quite a while to figure out the scent was coming from these humble trees.

This year I missed that.

I’m missing a lot right now.

We all are.

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Woodland Wonder

Shade-loving plants can often take more sun than we give them credit for taking, especially if given ample water. We have a large stand of ostrich ferns and lady ferns that stand in full-sun for most of the day, and as long as I keep them well-watered they will stay fresh and green until the end of July. That’s usually when I give up on the daily watering they require, and they instantly turn brown. Once that happens there is no turning back, and no amount of water will correct them, so it’s most important not to let them get to that point. 

As for other plants like the hydrangea and hosta seen here, which also find their preferred placement on the shady side, they too can survive the sun with enough water. I don’t push them like I push the ferns, since they are partly shaded during the hot points of the day, but I do keep them well-watered because that’s when they reward you with fresh and healthy foliage like this. 

They also put on a less-showy floral show, as is the more subtle way of shade-lovers. It’s as if they want to glow more delicately with pastel shades rather than sizzling with blazing and saturated hues. They add a quieter woodland element to the garden. 

The flowers of the hosta are secondary to its foliage, but if you get close enough you’ll find a delicate lily-like scent to some of them. 

With so many things running late as the season opened, the garden seems to have rebounded, as nature always does, and now it feels like the hosta is blooming earlier than usual. (It’s quite possible I’ve simply lost track of time given the year that is 2020.) The lace-cap hydrangea also feels a bit early, which makes me lean toward doubting my sense of time this summer. It’s flying by quicker than usual, and maybe that’s because part of me is still waiting for all the traditions that kick off the summer to happen. 

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The Fruit & Meat of Life

Like certain songs or musical motifs, certain food brings me back to a specific place in time and circumstance, recalling memories from a life that seemed so long ago, when really it’s only been a matter of months. The world has shifted remarkably in those months, however, and the shift may be more permanent and lasting than any of us can fathom or make motions to understand. This wasn’t meant to get so deep so quickly, and for a Wednesday morning post it may break the week in half before we even cross the formal hump. It’s really just meant to describe the joy and melancholy I experienced as I assembled this simple summer snack of apricots and prosciutto.

The last time I enjoyed the sweet and salty combination was when I was visiting Boston with Andy last summer. I’d stopped at Eataly for provisions and found a little container of apricots, along with some impossibly-thin prosciutto that you could practically see through – ribbons of salty pink glory for citrus-hued sweetness. We took our places at the table overlooking Braddock Park and slowly ate our way through the apricots and meat. This is what other people get to do, I thought at the time. Other people being those with the money and leisure and luxury I’d never have. Back then, and it was only a few months ago I have to keep reminding myself, comparative living was how I went about things, hence a nagging, gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, even when I ate the things more fortunate people ate, even when I wore their cologne, or walked in their fancy shoes.

Today, I savor the apricots and prosciutto on my own, not bothering with comparisons to other people. It’s a more peaceable and happy existence to focus solely on the sensation of a ripe apricot bursting with its juicy, ripened flesh, paired so spectacularly with the soft, savory flavor of the prosciutto. It’s more fun to appreciate what I have on its own merit instead of wondering how it compares to those around me. That’s a fundamental shift in my own perspective that has changed in the past few months. In some ways, the change came just in time, just as the world was shifting its paradigms with gigantic effects. Again, I didn’t mean to plummet so deeply into chasms so rife with relatively unexplored shadows. Luckily, there is beauty here, a more subtle and shaded beauty perhaps, the sort that must be held a little longer, heard only in the silence and stillness that a certain state of calm confers.

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Desperately Seeking House Boy, and A Summer Song

A wink to Madonna is hook enough for me to follow like a love-struck dog, and so I was hot on the trail of the latest video from Bright Light Bright Light, which is the fabulously retro ‘I Used to be Cool’ – and it arrives just in time to become a top contender for song of the summer. Thus far that search has been a rather drab and dour affair, dovetailing with the disaster that is 2020 as a whole. Uninspiring, depressing, and downright dangerous, the start of summer has never been this wretched. And so we turn to this piece of perfect pop escapism, in the nick of time to turn things around. While our pool remains unopened and in perpetual repair, a pool-themed video is precisely what we need to live out our fantasies, summer-style… just let the music set you free…

Bright Light Bright Light has already been named a Hunk of the Day here, and this only emboldens that selection, while setting up an almost-certain bid for a repeat Hunk performance. In the meantime, put this playful puppy on repeat and get your summer jam on, even, and especially, if you don’t have a pool right now.

PS – The mustache is officially cool again. 

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A Mango Salsa For Summer

A number of years ago, before I really took a liking to cooking, I made a mango salsa to go with some grilled swordfish and it turned out deliciously. It was also, to my somewhat hazy recollection, a huge pain in the ass. However, something so good demands another try, and after honing some chopping methods and getting a more confident feel for my way around the kitchen, I returned to find this one of the simplest dishes to prepare. That’s what a decade of practicing will get you, so don’t knock persistence and perseverance, even when you’re not entirely aware of what you might be practicing. 

In this case, Andy prepared a perfect piece of grilled swordfish on the grill, while I assembled the mango salsa. Since he doesn’t eat much fish, this dish was all for me, which meant a single mango would suffice. I chopped that (avoiding the fibrous and tough center pit) along with a small slice of red onion (a little of that goes a long way for me, but if you enjoy it, don’t be afraid to chop up two hefty slices) and most of a jalapeño (I say most because the pepper I had was enormous, and while I like it, a little of that also goes a long way). That’s basically it, though it can be modified and played with to no end, so add your own preferred veggies or herbs. 

I squeezed the juice of half a lime onto this, along with some salt and freshly-ground pepper, before mixing in a handful of cilantro, roughly chopped. Again, the proportions depend on preference. I finished with some olive oil and a dash of white wine vinegar, then stirred it all together to meld while the fish cooked. 

The next night I did the same thing with a piece of mahi mahi, only this one I did inside on the stove. It worked just as well, and when it rains you’ve got to do the cooking indoors. Even in the summer. Enjoy!

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A Bright & Bonny Recap

The first week of summer came and went in typical 2020 form – a rollercoaster of weather, a still-broken-down pool, and some glimmers of hope and happiness amid the occasional gloom and doom. Mercury remains in retrograde, so hang onto your hats and harnesses because all we can do is hope for the best. On with the recap as we begin another week of madness…

A centerpiece for the day

My brother’s childhood friend released this amazing album and I can’t stop listening to it.

Only the hydrangeas are exceptionally happy this year.

You don’t need to tell me to stick my ass out once. 

We returned to our favorite Albany restaurant for dinner out. 

The smallest blooms can pack the biggest punches. 

Purple and prolific of bloom, the classic clematis comes through to save the day.

Let’s have a lazy summer moment

This pink petunia broke through the concrete to display its prettiness.

Summer break, in the blink of an eye.

The battle against perfectionism is still being waged. 

Happy Pride Month, now more than ever. 

When feeling blue is beautiful

Revisiting the delusional grandeur of this project from the past.

Leaning into the blues.

Sunday night looks Up.

Hunks of the Day included Josh Gordon, Paul Dennison, and Bobby Berk.

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Summer Sunday Up

Certain music makes my heart swell. If you’ve seen the movie ‘Up’ you may be similarly affected by its musical motif. If you haven’t, it’s a Disney/Pixar film that has what some have cited as the most devastating opening of any Disney film, and I’ll admit that if you don’t get a little choked up by the start, I question whether you possess the human emotions necessary to appreciate anything here. As for me, the music is tinged with vaguely-summer memories. Happiness and hope, shot through with a little sorrow; we all wilt a little in too much heat.

I remember watching this in the theater the first time with Andy. It was the summer of 2009 – a year before we were going to be married. Seeing the opening couple go through their life without kids resonated, as did the fullness of the life they ended up sharing. As we near our 20th anniversary of being together, I’m once again moved by the music and the sentiment this recalls. 

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