Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

When a Poet Passes

I’m not usually one to get affected or upset when a celebrity dies. I reserve my grief for people I actually knew and loved, and who knew and loved me in return. Sometimes, though, we do feel an affinity with people we have never met or known on a personal level, and when I heard of Mary Oliver’s passing, I was struck with the sadness that such a literary light would no longer be shining in our dim world. She’s been featured here a number of times, with a number of her poems, because she put things into words in a beautiful, simple, heartrending way of which I could only dream of approaching. Her descriptive art form distilled the beauty of nature into a palpable human experience, not in a way that was cloying or trite, but in the most profoundly simple and moving manner. She invited her readers to participate without leaving their arm chairs – but she inspired most of us to do that too. Explore, she seemed to implore. Experience, she seemed to evince. Like Auntie Mame, what she wanted most to do was live, live, live! That sort of spirit, and the resulting body of work she leaves behind, is the immortal gift of art. It’s also the mark of someone who made the world a little better while she was here.

I will miss looking for a new collection of poems from her in the bookstore, but I will share her work with my niece and nephew and any other children that cross my path, in the hopes that she will live on like all great artists.

 
It is better for the heart to break, than not to break. – Mary Oliver

 

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

Now that this post is already out there, let me just say how much I love Maille cornichons.

Let the ads commence.

#TinyThreads

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The Watchful Ear of Big Brother

A few days ago I was standing in the kitchen asking Andy to pick up a jar of Maille cornichons. My phone was three rooms away, blocked by three walls (but apparently not powered down). I’ve never asked for these cornichons before, nor have I written about or referenced them online in any form. I didn’t even know how to pronounce the name, giving up after two feeble attempts and pointing at the jar so Andy could see what I was talking about.

The next morning I received my first-ever sponsored ad on Facebook for Maille Black Mustard Truffle Mustard. We don’t have Alexa, our computers were off, and Andy is not even on Facebook, so there would be no way to make any sort of connection between us for this to happen. Coincidence? Big Brother? Big Sister?

I’m told it’s a possible combination of our phones or computers being on. I don’t think so. Andy didn’t even hear or understand that I was saying ‘Maille’ so I don’t see how my phone three rooms away could. If his phone was picking it up, how did it end up on my FaceBook page? He doesn’t have a FaceBook account.

Anyway, it’s not that big a deal, just puzzling. I’ve broadcast much more revealing things than demanding a new jar of cornichons.

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

“If you stick a pot roast in the oven, what’s to stop it from getting done?” ~ ‘The Women’

#LifeLessons

#JungleRed

#TinyThreads

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A Little Beau Peek

Dashing onto the scene just in time for Valentine’s Day is a new Tom Ford Private Blend, ‘Beau de Jour.’ It will certainly take the guesswork out of Andy’s search for a heart-day gift, and though I hesitate getting a scent unsniffed, it has paid off handsomely in the past. A little glory is worth a little risk. There’s safety in the description, too, as the literature makes it sound like a scent made in my own little paradise planet:

“Classic. Sharp. Maverick.

Beau de Jour presents the perfectly groomed gentleman who considers every detail. He exhibits the best version of himself to the world, but underneath the surface is something deeper, refreshing and sublime in all its layers.

A fresh, commanding entrance of Lavender from Provence introduces the clean and fervent facets of the Beau de Jour scent. The cool and refreshing open is further amplified with an infusion of energetic hybrid of lavenders. The core beats with the herbal inflection of African rosemary and floral green geranium with its subtle hint of mint inflection, a powerful contrast to the leather-like warmth of oakmoss and the electric green of basil. Patchouli and amber create an earthy foundation of radiant wood and sensual musky warmth, further elevating Bea de Jour’s refreshing notion of masculinity through the finish.”

To say so much and so little in such breathlessly frilly prose is an art form unto itself, and that description alone is enough to set my olfactory excitement into overload. I’ve always been a fan of lavender, and was actually on the hunt for something similar to see us through the brunt of winter. Lavender is one of those calming scents that, when done right, eases the mind and relaxes the body. We need that more than ever in the winter months. I’m a big fan of Ford’s earlier effort with the scent: ‘Lavender Palm.’ That veered into slightly perfume-like territory, not necessarily a bad thing, but it lingered in the upper register of notes, whereas I prefer something a bit deeper. ‘Beau de Jour’ on paper sounds like it fills that bill.

Having most recently purchased his ‘Fougere d’Argent’ I am just the slightest bit wary of putting another fougere-like scent into the repertoire so soon, but the moment calls for peace and refreshment, and that’s what lavender does best. Stay tuned…

UPDATE: This weekend’s Boston visit afforded me the chance to try this one out and I was pleasantly surprised. I like it better than the other Fougere offerings Ford has released of late, and part of that is due to the lovely hints of lavender, along with some potent staying power. Definitely worthy of Valentine’s Day…

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

“Arrivals” sounds so much happier than “Departures” but you can’t get to one without going through the other.

#TinyThreads

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Boston Leaves Imprints

On a newly-poured section of sidewalk on Massachusetts Avenue, a few fallen leaves from autumn have left their mark in and on the concrete. These faded markings gave me inexplicable joy when Kira and I stumbled upon them on our last visit. Nature will find her own beautiful route, paving a path in ways you never quite thought possible. City trees have been battling concrete for years, and just when it looks like the concrete has won, something like this happens and my faith in the world is briefly restored in the most whimsical of ways.

When the winter turns stark and all the world blends into a dull palette of grays and browns, there is still magic to be found if one looks closely enough. This is a subtle magic – it doesn’t scream or shout out to be noticed, it doesn’t blare its beauty in loud tones of garish saturation. The world is slumbering – do not rustle its rest. There will be time enough to put on your parades when spring returns. For now, we sleep, or walk quietly in a concrete forest littered with echoes.

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

“Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?” marked my first exposure to a cappella singing groups.

Oh, tell me where!

#TinyThreads

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Underwear-Clad Recap in the Middle of January

Almost halfway through the month of January, we pause for our weekly Monday morning recap. The holidays are already an ever-dimming memory, while winter jabs and pokes at us with icy pincers. We are in a holding pattern until it’s time to stir in March. On with the recap…

For shits and giggles, check out the #TinyThreads series. When you reach the end of one, click the “#TinyThreads” link at the bottom of the brief posts and follow them back. It’s fun. Try it. If you’re patient you can follow all the way back to the very first TT post. 

All fruit, no labor.

My 9th anniversary of being on Twitter came and went. 

I prefer flora to fauna.

Cristiano Ronaldo in wet underwear.

Mary Poppins returned with a treasure trove of childhood memories. 

The last days of a Christmas tree.

A lovely pianist duel/duet.

Get a Clue

Another project, already.

Doing their best to keep things warm were the Hunks of the Day: Brian Kenny, Austin Wallis, Ed Krassenstein, Brian Krassenstein, John David Washington and Keith Laue.

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Beauty & Work

This will be a bit of a working weekend in Boston, as I begin preliminary preparation for the next project. That’s the fun part, though, so it’s not really work in the sense of drudgery or duty. This is the time when I have a few slim notions in my head, a few themes knocking about and looking for direction. Here is where I will rely on the universe to nudge me in the right direction and help a more definitive idea etch itself out in my mind. It always does, in relative ease too. I’ll suddenly see a motif everywhere I look – a certain color palette repeated throughout the day and in the most disparate places. The same song will play on the radio, then in a store, then on the computer. A book will be on display in the bookstore then show up on my social media feed then be mentioned by a friend. All of these coincidences I will take as signs, and they invariably lead me to the creative project I will conjure next. The key is to be open and observant. That means being ready to listen and be quiet. It is, oddly enough, my resting stance, so this is familiar, comfortable territory.

This also means that during a time of creation the blog takes a backseat to other endeavors. Usually when that happens I’ll populate posts with pictures of shirtless male celebrities or the like and viewership will increase dramatically. The more substantial and meaningful my posts are, the less they are viewed. Sigh. 

As we gear up for that lull, bookmark this page so you can revisit these projects if you’d like. The photos – almost all here – are throwbacks to a more innocent, youthful period of a slimmer stomach, darker hair, and relative carefree attitude. May we return there soon…

PREVIOUS PROJECTS:

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A Clue at the Palace

Andy marked the date down weeks ago. It’s one of our favorite silly movie, but unlike Andy I’ve never been lucky enough to see it on the big screen. This Monday that will change, as ‘Clue’ is playing at the Palace Theatre, and after a dinner at dp we’ll be taking part in the madcap murderous mayhem.  Everyone has a favorite line or zinger from this movie – mine is “I am determined to enjoy myself!” Along those lines everyone also has a favorite character that they most resemble. Such broad archetypes never really manage to encompass the more contradictory and complex among us, but if I had to choose I’d be a cross between Mrs. Peacock (those glorious feathers!) and Ms. Scarlet. Andy thinks I’m closer to Mrs. White, but for the sake of him and his own… you know… he’d better hope he’s wrong.

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When I See Good in the World…

This popped up on my FaceBook feed the other day – a ray of light in the midst of so much online hate – and I paused to watch the entire thing. Skeptical of such moments, probably because of so much online foolishness, I wasn’t quite sure it was entirely organic. People will do all sorts of things for internet fame, no matter how fleeting or worthless. Yet this seems legit and has yet to be proven an orchestrated event. 

It’s a scene from a Paris train station, where two strangers come together for a piano duet that is both raw and magnificently moving. I’m not sure which moved me the most: their almost primal talent, or the way they joined together so easily and comfortably. I’ve read that the original player is Gerard Pla Daró from Spain and the man who joins in is Nassim Zaouche from Algeria. (My favorite part begins at the 4:45 mark, where things begin to coalesce into a much grander thing than the sum of two talented gentlemen, before culminating with a happy finale.)

There is something sublimely poetic about this. Sometimes I forget that there is such goodness in the world, such simple joy in two human beings making something beautiful together. It makes me want to be better. Kinder. 

It almost makes me wish I had continued piano lessons. Or just worked harder at them. Either way, this is inspiration and hope and magic, and we need more of it. 

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The Littlest Christmas

We usually wait until “Little Christmas” before taking our tree down, a tradition that Andy’s Mom instilled in him and one that happily carries on to this day. This year, despite my general dismissal of the seasonal insanity, I’ve been happy to see our tree there each morning and night, glowing with its pretty lights and ever-increasing collection of colorful ornaments. I think Andy enjoys it too; I’ve found him sitting on the couch in contemplation, reminding me of one of the first times I ever went to his home in Guilderland. I’d arrived unannounced and I asked what he was doing. He told me he was meditating – sitting on the couch with a rose quartz crystal and a candle – and I fell in love with him a little more. He had such a calm and resigned demeanor, while my resting stance at the time was wild and crazy. I still look to him when I need to feel calm and quiet.

As for this year’s tree, it will hold a special place in my heart since I nurtured it from a tiny plant. Having outgrown its space in the front yard, it got a send-off draped in Christmas finery and seasonal glory. Like its grower, its needles were sharp and unapproachable, but that only made me love it a little more. The prickly among us are mostly just misunderstood. I won’t judge or condemn anyone for their protection devices. 

As much as we loved it, it’s time to let it go. The tips have begun sprouting new growth, a sign that we had a very fresh tree, but also that’s almost overstayed its welcome. We need to turn the page. The sooner that Christmas ends, the sooner spring will arrive. It’s still along trek, but there are ways to get through it. A candle glowing in the dark. A stick of Tibetan incense curling smoke into the air. A cup of hot green tea sweetened with honey. A moment of meditation in the midst of the madness of winter. 

 

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

Me to a co-worker: “I need my time alone. To be healthy and safe for people.”

#TinyThreads

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