Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

When in the thrall of a creative project – be it a written piece, a photographic compilation, or something as simple as planning the next season of the garden – I find it easier to sleep. When I’ve just finished something, or have no creative outlet open, I tend to move into restless and fitful insomnia. In the past, I’ve simply gotten up and done something – read a book, watched a movie, whisked scrambled eggs – but lately I’ve simply laid there in bed, tossing and turning, forcing my eyes to stay shut and hoping for sleep to come. It does – it always does eventually – but then it’s time to get up a couple of hours later, and I’m completely unrested for the work day. Such is the conundrum as I stand on the back-end of the PVRTD Project release.

Part of it is the excitement of anticipation, which is usually my favorite state of fevered enchantment, as much as it messes with my sleeping pattern. Part of it is happy relief, and instead of relaxing into a night of sleep, I’d rather stay up and enjoy the giddy sense of completion for as long as possible. On the same token, part of it may be post-project depression, when the work and effort of a number of months are done and there is suddenly down-time.

There are a few cures for this, however, and I’m about to employ them. The first is simple yet grand: finding a new project to begin. The second is also easy: diving into writing and creating content for this blog. (Lucky reader!) The third is more abstract and difficult: taking my mind off the whole thing. The moment I begin to dwell on it, the worse it gets. Clearly this post I indicative of the fact that I’m not yet there. Instead, I’ll work on the first two. It’s only a matter of time.

When we were kids, my brother and I would go through the Sears (and, later, JC Penney) catalogs and mark all the items we wanted for Christmas. These were exaggerated wish lists, with each of us asking for more than the other in a competitive hedging of bets in case there really was a Santa Claus (kids, there is, and stop reading now). It was more the fun of the activity, and the small sliver of hope that some bit of magic might make it to the North Pole that kept us doing this, and there was something in the anticipation that made it fun for me. I’d sit in the plaid chair of the family room by the lamp, earmark each precious page that held any sort of treasure, and examine the colorful photos looking for anything interesting and reasonable.

This year will mark the first that I’m not publicly posting my Christmas Wish List. (I still have my Amazon Wish List up for public viewing.) The reason being that most of you don’t get me anything, and it’s easier to just give the list to Andy and my Mom and call it a day. Besides, Christmas is not about getting or requesting gifts – it’s about remembering those pre-holiday nights in our family room with my Mom and Dad and brother milling about, and dreaming safely of items I never needed because I was perfectly content right where we were.

“Any deviation is looked upon as a perversion, is feared, and is usually a target of hatred and prejudice.” ~ Joey Skaggs

The PVRTD Project has premiered online, and early reactions have ranged from one of my closest friends citing it as my best work, to another summing it up as “dark dingy and depressing.” By far my favorite response up to this point has been the following, which perfectly sums up the whole experience: “Jesus on a biscuit, I need a drink after that.” See what you think on The Projects page.

How we are approaching the middle of November is beyond me. (And if that freaks you out, Thanksgiving is NEXT WEEK!) Holy fucking turkey, I need to get the yams before they’re all gone. And we need to have a viewing of ‘Home For The Holidays’ already. Sigh… time is not going by so slowly… would that it were. To slow you down further, and buy me some more time for the next post, here’s a collection of what we did this past week.

The last installment of the vainglorious PVRTD Promo interview was posted. (But if you missed any of the promotional hoopla, check out this helpful link-filled post.)

It’s not the Spice Girls without Posh (and David Beckham’s bulge). 

Madonna went bananas. 

Chicken curry in a hurry. 

A cactus by any other name. 

Fall in all its glory. 

A smudging returns a house to a home. 

#TinyThreads

Hunks of the Day included Nick Merico, Zachary Zane and Mikhail Kolyada.

“They had no conception that sex had anything to do with emotional feelings and the desire for human contact – even among homosexuals. All that they cared about was a little bit of pleasure for themselves.” – Heinz Heger

We are but days away from the online premiere of PVRTD – my new project – and in case you missed out on the promotional previews that have really nothing to do with the project itself, here’s a post to catch you up. Lingerie and naked skin make for a typical trapping of click-bait, and if that brings someone new into our eclectic circle of friends, then so much the better. We always have room for more.

I also wanted to showcase the dichotomy of how we live today. You cannot – at least, I cannot – turn a blind eye to the world as it is, and the way we want to live. No one wants to live out a life of fantasy more than me; it’s simply no longer possible.

~ A Perverted Beginning

~ The PVRTD Tease 1

~ The PVRTD Tease 2

~ The Promo Blitz

~ A Hint of the Perverted

~ Perverse Thrills

~ The Act of Creation

~ The Decadence Before the Perversion

“Jews, homosexuals, and Gypsies, the yellow, pink and brown triangles, were the prisoners who suffered most frequently and most severely from the tortures and blows of the SS and the Capos. They were described as the scum of humanity, who had no right to live on German soil and should be exterminated… but the lowest of the low in this “scum” were we, the men with the pink triangle.” – Heinz Heger

How to reconcile the way we live, with the way we once lived, with the way they live, and the way they used to live… How to make sense of our happiness and comfort in a world of such pain and sorrow and injustice?

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 1

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 2

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 3

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 4

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 5

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 6

“All of them, before their imprisonment in concentration camps, had been decent people in private life, many indeed highly respected citizens, who had never come up against the law, but were set apart only by their homosexual feelings. Al of these otherwise decent people had been assembled here, in this melting pot of disgrace and torment, for extermination through back-breaking labor, hunger, and torture. None of them were child molesters or had had sex with children or adolescents, as all of these had a green triangle. Were we with our pink triangle really outrageous criminals and “degenerates”, a menace to society?” 
― Heinz Heger

The wind was peripatetic that day (see Meryl Streep in ‘Doubt’), flitting this way and that with large gusts that would press the imperious fountain grass close to the ground while ripping the staunchest oak leaves from their tenacious grip. It pushed against windows and doors, shaking the whole house and making me glad to be on the inside looking out. Before hunkering down for the long wait of winter, however, I needed to do one thing: smudge the house.

I opened up various windows and doors and started in the attic. Lighting a stick of sage and lavender, I filled the first corner with the cleansing smoke of ages, and relaxed a bit. The bad spirits were swept instantly away, and I waved the burning wand in gentle swirls, making sure the smoke went into every hiding space. Working my way downstairs, closing windows and doors behind me when the cleansing of each space was complete, I filled the house with the pungent aroma of burnt sage and smoky lavender. A purification and a benediction. The christening of a new couch and the start of Daylight Savings season.

When I was done, and the last of the negative energy had been driven out of the house, I walked outside to snub the smudge into its mother-of-pearl shell. I inhaled the wind as it rushed by and gave quick thanks for all that we had. Our house was again a home.

A scene such as the one that’s been playing out in our front yard is so beautiful it merits an excessively-flowery post title, hence the literary histrionics at hand. (Not that anyone could tell a difference; I’ve made bigger deals out of mouse poop, I’m sure.) Anyway, here is the late afternoon sun illuminating the Chinese dogwood and Japanese maple in front of our home. This photo was taken before Andy had a chance to give one final haircut of the season to the lawn, but I like its wayward appearance. It reminds me of a rocky ocean, much more befitting of this time of the year. The beauty of November too often goes unnoticed or unappreciated. I’m trying to do better service to the month and the notion.