There was a time when Albany was magical to me. When I was a little kid in relatively-rural Amsterdam, NY, I viewed Albany as the closest thing to a big city. I’d been to New York and Boston a number of times, but they felt far away and distant. A few hours can be an eternity for children. Albany was a much shorter trip, but it still held the allure of glamour and sophistication. My Mom used to go shopping in the downtown, back when it bustled, and stores occupied multiple floors. The Plaza had been completed by the time I was old enough to walk, and we went to a few shows at the Egg. In certain sections, the walls were curved, and the novelty of the thing never wore off.
On certain days, when I’m walking at lunch and the sun is shining in a clear blue sky, I’ll look up at the Plaza and feel the same excitement and awe of our city. I’ll remember the wonder it once held for a kid from Amsterdam. I’ll try, mostly in vain, to re-inhabit that moment when it all seemed so impressive.
This evening my brother is hosting a dinner party at his new home in Amsterdam. At my none-too-subtle urging, we started planning for this a while back. Getting a new home in order is no easy feat, and he’s been working around the clock to bring it together. I personally think it looks great considering how long he’s had it, and the front two rooms are magazine-worthy. (Maybe they wouldn’t be the cover, but an interior layout is nothing shabby.)
There is a cocktail hour loosely slated for before dinner, at which we’ll be serving bourbon-based drinks. The signature cocktail for the night’s festivities will be the grapefruit-accented Blushing Betty, as seen here. Of course, there will also be Bada Bing cherries on hand and a fresh bottle of sweet vermouth for anyone who wants a Manhattan.
I’ve requested some mellow jazz for the evening, but my bother’s tastes tend to stray into livelier territory. I can handle some Buddy Rich, the rest remains to be seen. A fancy record-player and a extensive collection of vinyl means that the possibilities are endless. We might get into the Lou Reed and Velvet Underground weeds, and I’m not going to argue. Hell, we may even get my brother to strum the guitar and start a sing-a-long. Anyone know the chords to ‘Like A Prayer‘?
JoAnn is coming in from the Cape to join us, and Suzie and Pat are driving in from Delmar, so it will be a good group for breaking bread and passing a winter night.
It’s been brewing for a while now, and in my head it’s slowly been assembling itself. It’s different, though, when you finally put it into words and begin the process. A new project is in the works, and for the next few months my creative output will be focused on that. As is often the state of things at this stage, it’s all hush-hush and top-secret. The only thing I can tell you is that it was inspired by a recent trip to the art museum in Chicago, which basically tells you nothing.
Being that it is the earliest stage, I’m not sure how this one will play out. It may be entirely online, or it may manifest itself physically. That’s the best part of this moment – I just don’t know which way it will take me. I do know that it will be darker than some of my usual fare, and as such I’ve been prepping by making our home a little warmer and more peaceful, with the sounds of Japanese Zen meditation flute music, a few sticks of Japanese incense, and a couple of books (and upcoming experiments in) inekana. If there is peace by the hearth, my creative demons can freely roam and no one will get hurt.
Representing Spain, figure skater Javier Fernández had a stellar showing in his short program at the Winter Olympics. The long program is slated to take place today and it looks to be a nail-biter. Nathan Chen all but knocked himself out of gold-medal contention, so it’s all up to Adam Rippon to bring home some precious metal for the US. Japan is giving the real threat to Mr. Fernández, with two amazing athletes: Yuzuru Hanyu and Shoma Uno. Hanyu currently sits comfortably in the lead, Fernández is right behind him, and Uno rounds out the top three. It’s going to be quite the night of competition.
Most people equate blue skies with summer days, but the truest blue may be found on a clear winter afternoon, when the sheer frigidity of the air lends a crystalline clarity to the sky, and the sun and the atmosphere are free to work whatever scientific alchemy is required to bring out the deepest and most glorious shades of blue known to the eye. Echoed by the fallen snow seen here, the effect can be a double dose of blue sky, where it bounces off the shadows, saturating and challenging the spaces where the ease of gray usually resides.
Adding to the impressive roster of openly-gay athletes competing in this winter’s Olympic games, this is Belgian figure skater Jorik Hendrickx. In his home country, he is a two-time National Champion, and this marks his second Olympic Games. He joins Adam Rippon, Gus Kenworthy and Eric Radford in representing the LGBTQ community, which is a pretty wonderful thing to see.
Jeremy James wrote a great song about traveling the New York State Thruway for his ‘Landlocked’ album, and if you get a chance you should give it a listen. (You should also check out ‘Waiting’ – probably my favorite songs of his from the same album.) Here’s a view of that vaunted road on a typical mid-winter day. Nothing too profound, nothing too exceptional. Just a simple moment unremarkable for anything, but no less beautiful for it. Winter makes hunters of us all – whether it’s a hunt for warmth or beauty or the return of spring.
When the snow is new, when the sky is blue, when rhyming is all I can do, we pause for the slow trudge of winter and nudge it along as best we can. Considering the calendar, we are more than halfway through the wretched season. I detected the slightest scent of a thaw last week, but it was quickly withdrawn by the next morning. It won’t go that quickly or easily.
Vice President Mike Pence (who didn’t even stand when the host country’s athletes entered during the Parade of Nations – yeah, we all saw it) tried to pretend he wasn’t a homophobic bigot but Adam Rippon wasn’t having any of it, and I’m happy to report he hasn’t backed down from that powerful stance. Pence made overtures to meet with Rippon (dude, get off his jock already) but Rippon quickly pointed out Pence’s anti-gay voting history when refusing a sit-down with the awful man. (It’s on record, so when Pence pretends otherwise it’s an easily-refuted lie.)
I’m more excited about Rippon’s Olympic performances. He just skated a perfect program for the USA’s Figure Skating Team Event (and was robbed by, ahem, the Olympic Athletes from Russia – that’s their moniker being that the country cheated so much and was basically banned from the Olympic games – look it up). But beauty and talent will always defy points and scoring systems, so Rippon can rest assured that he soared over his competition. He competes in the individual events today and tomorrow, and it promises to be mesmerizing.
Wednesdays are usually dark here, but for Valentine’s Day I’m putting up an extra post just for you. That’s just the kind of romantic I am. On this particular Hallmark Holiday, I’m posting a song that features a kiss and a fool – two topics of which I’ve had relatively extensive experience. Interlaced among the lyrics are links to former Valentine’s Day posts, for better or worse. Happy Heart’s Day!!
You are far
When I could have been your star
You listened to people
Who scared you to death, and from my heart
Strange that you were strong enough
To even make a start
But you’ll never find
Peace of mind,
‘Til you listen to your heart
The night was frigid. An Ithaca winter is no joke. It’s why people jump off bridges and other crazy shit. I was visiting Suzie and the good company of 121 A College Avenue, staying on the ratty couch that even Chris found disgusting. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I loved it. Being around old friends, and making new ones, made that time in my life a thrill, no matter the less-than-luxurious surroundings. We didn’t care about such small matters then. In some ways, I wish I still didn’t. (As one ages, creature comforts become necessary.)
It was Valentine’s Day and we were all going to a fancy dinner at Davio’s. In my mind, this jazzy George Michael tune played, a sultry bit of longing and desire, a semi-sad tale of unrequited love that at the time was the only kind of love I knew. I wore an enormous fake fur coat in gray and black, a pair of red satin pants, and a multi-colored sequin vest. My hair, recently buzzed, was the only understated part of the proceedings. On my chest, a large gold heart hung from a golden chain. Without a boyfriend, or even the prospect of one on the horizon, I was surprisingly (for me) not despondent about this supposed day of love. In fact, I was in good spirits. I’d just made everyone watch Madonna’s Oscar-night performance of ‘Sooner or Later’ to put people in the Valentine mood. When you’re in your twenties, sometimes a night out with friends is better than any night in with a boyfriend.
We piled into someone’s car and made the quick trip to the restaurant. The brief walk on the sidewalk was painful, so cold was the air, so biting was the wind. But we huddled together, and together we entered the cozy warm space. There were eight of us, and we had a reserved table against the wall. Intimate and tight, we were warm and safe, and even though we couldn’t muster a date between the lot of us, it didn’t matter much. Someone had given me a red rose somewhere along the way, and I felt its velvety petals in my hand.
You are far
I’m never gonna be your star
I’ll pick up the pieces
And mend my heart
Maybe I’ll be strong enough I don’t know where to start
But I’ll never find
Peace of mind
While I listen to my heart
Our server came along to offer an introduction and a wine list. He smiled sweetly at me, maybe a little longer than was necessary, or maybe that was just my heart imagining how I’d like things to be. I suddenly felt ridiculous in my sequin vest and red satin shirt, but just as soon as the feeling came over me it passed and I gave in to the ridiculousness of the night. And the ridiculousness of love.
People
You can never change the way they feel
Better let them do just what they will,
For they will
If you let them Steal your heart
And people
Will always make a lover feel a fool But you knew I loved you
We could have shown them all
We made some flirtatious banter. Exchanged a few more smiles. He was older. No one seemed to notice. And whether he was doing it for a few more bucks in his tip, or the holiday at hand, or simple human decency, it was sweet, and sweetness aways spoke to me. On this night, however, surrounded by friends in what might as well have been the coldest city on earth, I felt warm and loved, and the quite-possibly-entirely-imagined adoration of a server held no sway or power over my typically-foolish heart.
But remember this
Every other kiss
That you ever give
Long as we both live
When you need the hand of another man
One you really can surrender with I will wait for you
Like I always do
There’s something there
That can’t compare with any other
As we were leaving, I paused at the door. Looking over my shoulder for one more smile or one more signal, I waited just a bit before the wind pulled me out for good. I laughed a little to myself at the nonsense of love, and this silly holiday of hearts and flowers and pink and red. Before getting into the car, I made everyone pose for a photo. This was all the love I needed.
You are far
When I could have been your star
You listened to people
Who scared you to death, and from my heart
Strange that I was wrong enough To think you’d love me too
I guess you were kissing a fool
You must have been kissing a fool.
The Winter Olympics are in full-figure-skating swing, and every year I promise not to get so obsessed with the thing. I failed miserably, and I am once again enthralled with the quads and the triples and the spins and the falls. This site is a bit obsessed with the Olympics, as you will see in this recap. If you’re not, there’s still some fun posts in between the athletes. Watch and see.
Words pale in comparison to the enchanting way light passes through the stained glass windows of Washington National Cathedral. It must be seen to be believed and appreciated.
Here’s the write-up that explains some of the beauty:
This time lapse video — part of the exhibition “Scaling Washington” at the National Building Museum — highlights the movement of stained glass light at the Washington National Cathedral. Photographer Colin Winterbottom was making fine art and documentary photographs of earthquake repairs at the Cathedral when he noticed the beautiful spray of colored light moving through scaffolded work spaces. He had little experience making time lapse, but thought the phenomenon had to be captured, especially as it moved over surfaces across time.
The final video shows movement of light through areas of the Cathedral familiar to visitors as well as through temporary work spaces with limited access. Most of these vantages could only be accessed while scaffold was in place. The opening and closing images, for example — with the west rose window centered straight ahead within the nave — cannot be recreated now that scaffold is down.
Paralympian Andrew Kurka is participating in more events than I even knew existed: Downhill, Slalom, Giant Slalom, Super-G and Super Combined. Based on the ‘Downhill’ part I’m assuming these are all ski events of some sort. Mr. Kurka started out in his childhood as a wrestler, before an ATV accident damaged his spinal cord. Undaunted, he moved to the monoski, on which he has been garnering awards, accolades and a slew of championship medals.
With a name set for All-American marquee glory, Tucker West is making a more prominent name for himself on Team USA, hurtling to greater recognition by way of the luge. He joins fellow Team USA mates Nick Cunningham, Adam Rippon, Nathan Chen, Chris Fogt, Shaun White, Steven Langton and John Daly in getting a gratuitous shirtless post during these Winter games. The show is not even close to being over…
He was an Olympian in 2010, and he’s currently in South Korea doing it all over again. His sport is the luge and his name is Chris Mazdzer. As of this writing, he’s on the precipice of earning a medal, but anyone who makes it to multiple Olympic games is already a champion in these parts. Congrats to Mazdzer for always exhibiting Olympic spirit. (Especially when he takes his shirt off.)
