Shirtless Male Celebrities for a Snow Day

This bonus post, culled from the annals of an unexpected but most definitely not unwanted snow day, is a quick recap of some shirtless male celebrities who have graced this website with their hotness over the years. It’s not quite a full-on Naked Male Celebrities post, but click on that link and search the archives if you want fully nude stars. This is PG-13, but no less scintillating for it. We begin with KJ Apa, who knows how to man-spread, which is a skill that should have no shame when not practiced on public transportation. (Pull this shit on the subway and your crotch is nothing but target practice.)

Matthew Camp has been a favorite in these parts for years, and it’s always good to be reminded of the many endeavors he’s successfully embarked upon. See here and here too. 

Robbie Amell in motion is almost as good as Robbie Amell naked, but until we get a glimpse of that please make do with his Hunk of the Day post

Jwan Yosef, husband of Ricky Martin and fantastic artist in his own right, was breathtaking in his Hunk of the Day crowning here

Closing out the black and white portion of this hunky pictorial is Ben Cohen, who wears short-shorts better than anyone else. 

Like Dorothy stepping out of that sepia farm house and into the land of Oz, we switch into the full-color section of this shirtless male celebrity extravaganza. (Maybe there are some hints of male nudity on the way too.) Up in super-saturated form is the magnificent Jack Mackenroth, who clearly knows his way around a colorful ride

King of the underwear scene, nobody fills a pair quite as keenly as Daniel Miller, as amply evidenced in his Hunk of the Day honor

Colin Kaepernick is such a courageous guy, he deserves double billing here. Also click on his Hunk of the Day post, as well as this post and this post

Finn Bálor strikes a shirtless pose here, as well as in his Hunk of the Day feature, and in this peacock-like stance.

A trio of Nico Tortorella shots may still not be enough, and if that’s the case visit his naked self here, his shirtless self here, his nude self here, and his hot ass self here.

A pair of former Hunks may be found in the shirtless forms of Alan Bersten and Shawn Mendes

Ryan Gosling has been relatively quiet on the movie front of late, so perhaps it’s time to revisit his shirtless birthday post

Cameron Dallas smacks his ass in this pair of gratuitous GIFs. More of Mr. Dallas was also on display here, here and here

Speaking of fit asses, this is Jack Laugher barely squeezing his into a skimpy Speedo. More of Laugher and his butt here, here, here, and here. [See also Chris Mears & Tom Daley.]

Joe Manganiello was born to play a stripper, as illustrated in posts like this and this

The insanely bodacious body of Evander Kane brings up the end of this meandering post. 


Finally, a random assortment of gents who have yet to be featured in some grand shirtless male celebrity collection, but if you send me their names I’ll happily consider them for the future. 

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Cyber Me Monday

Greetings, online lookers and internet interlopers. 

This is Cyber Alan.

I’m the one who’s been writing and corresponding and showing off pictures of my ass for almost seventeen years now. It’s a rather long time, especially in the mercurial slipperiness of the world-wide web, and the only way I’ve managed to survive and keep doing this is by crafting this alter-version of myself. I’m not exceptional in that way. Most of us put a very different image forth with the Veil of Valor afforded by the anonymity and distance of our online entities. Different from who we are in everyday life. Heightened. Elevated. Extreme.

Our social media selves are what we most want to be, most of the time. This blog functions as such too. It’s the one place where I can be glamorous, witty, funny, elegant, fashionable and, with the right lighting and angles, give the effect of being semi-attractive. This is the closest I can get to perfection, even while pretending to extol my imperfections. That becomes a trap sometimes, too, such as the past couple of weeks when a substantial portion of my life has come under duress, if not fallen apart altogether. But most people had no idea, because I didn’t really put it all up here for inquiring minds to dissect and send their queries. Life is difficult enough when working things out, especially when the things you’re working out go back four decades and threaten the entire foundation of everything you thought you knew. I have therapy to thank for that, and I have faith that the end result will be a healthier and happier version of myself that is a little more authentic and at peace with things than the cyber version you see before you. 

Perhaps I’ll even let you in behind the curtain. 

For now, the train trundles along on a snowy Cyber Monday… 

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A Snow-Bound Recap

At the time of this writing, we are being pummeled by a major snowstorm in upstate New York, kicking off the holiday season with a wintry flourish that is as pretty as it is annoying. Bit early for all this shit, no? Oh well, I’ve come to expect getting kicked while I’m down, so bring it all on. And on with the recap…

Shirtless male celebrities and sporting good-fellows kept things hot. 

Shattering the day with ice & clay

The curtain rises on a bunch of new holiday traditions.

It was turkey-lurkey time

From now until the New Year, it’s Mariah’s world. #Lambily

A poem of gratitude.

This year it’s a Thanksgiving cactus

An unpopular cookie opinion.

A thankful remembrance

An applesauce cake for Andy.

It was the week I was supposed to see Madonna’s Madame X Tour in Boston

…but she cancelled and we had our first break

It was over in a day or two, and the Madonna Timeline returned with this glorious song

Still haunted by Savannah.

December arrived with a blast of snow.

Finding Waldo.

Hunks of the Day included Sammy Guevara, Neymar Jr., John Duff, and Harrison Luna.  

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Where’s Waldo (Emerson)?

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

That’s the theme of this mocktail, which is just as pretty as a cocktail, if not more-so for the sparkling seltzer that gives it a bit of extra shimmer. Don’t mock it until you’ve tried it. In this case a dash of cranberry juice, some plain seltzer, and a sprig of rosemary combine to create a holiday drink best served in a fancy glass like the one seen here. 

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Days of Decembers Past

Entering the final month of the calendar year, let us run away with December. Or let December run away with us. Within the month is the shortest and darkest day as we witness the official arrival of winter, but there is also Christmas Day to counter-balance that. I’m not sure the holidays are going to work their typical magic this year, and in all honesty such magic has been slowly eroding over the past few years, so maybe this is just how it goes. The older we get, the few magical moments we have. For that reason, let’s take a rare look back, just in case the best days are behind us. 

(Just a quick warning – since these links populate with the last day first, there are a lot of year-end-review recaps. It’s a lot to take in. I’m breathless just thinking of them.)

~ December 2018
December 2017
~ December 2016
~ December 2015
~ December 2014
~ December 2013
~ December 2012
~ December 2011
~ December 2010
 
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #158 ~ ‘Medellín’ – Spring 2019

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

We have reached the depressing point in fall when all the color has drained from the world. From here on out there only grays and browns and blacks, as evidenced in the piles of leaves seen around the neighborhood. Mounds of them, tinged with mold and decay, some dismally soaked, some relievedly dry, remain in the lawn. The thought of bagging them feels impossible. Memories of raking flood my mind – smoke hanging in the air, tears drying on my face, our white brick house in the distance – and the inconsolable fact that November was somehow always the saddest month. I’d stand beneath the forest of pine trees and oaks, raking and bagging in an endless cycle of hellish repetition.

The weight of each bag depended on how wet the fall was. Dry leaves could be packed and stacked, their bags easily lifted and plopped by the edge of the road for pick-up. Wet leaves, while they were easier to handle because they all stuck together, were exponentially heavier. Rarely was there a happy medium. Rarely was there happiness.

Haunted by a house I thought was my home, I was too young to realize how I might never belong. I held onto the delusions of childhood as tightly as I could, to no avail. They took to the sky like those wisps of smoke that colored and scented the air. I could only feel the remnants of them, the echo of their sentiment.

An old-school pair of headphones kept my ears shielded from the wind, and more importantly they fed the lifeblood that would take me out of my body, out of my head, out of my misery while a musical enchantress sung of love and loss and family on her majestic ‘Like A Prayer’ album. Madonna was my escape and salvation. Then and now. Time catches up to me, literally three decades later. The same forlorn state of the season, the same forlorn terrain of the heart.

And, just like then, I turn to Madonna.

ONE
TWO
ONE
TWO
ONE-TWO
CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE-TWO
TWO-ONE
TWO-ONE
CHA-CHA-CHA-CHA

Choosing a snippet of ASMR as an opener to an eagerly-anticipated album is a head-scratcher, but there she was, whispering in my ear and transforming her voice into scratches of sound like the distant raking of dry leaves in the smoky autumn air, intoning the count-off to a cha-cha as her 14thstudio album ‘Madame X’ began its sonic journey.

It arrived in the middle of spring, when we were just about to set the scene for summer. ‘Medellín’ came at the perfect time, even if the weather wasn’t quite ready to turn the page. New England doesn’t always like to let winter go, and on a weekend in Boston that was wild with wind and bitter with rain – the usual roller-coaster of weather that has always put me in a tizzy – I played this song to combat the awfulness.

That spring was a hopeful one, and this was a tease to a new Madonna album – one that promised to become the soundtrack to the coming summer. Medellín’ was the ideal teaser – a whisper of a track that was a delectable way to shuffle into a meeting with Madame X.

I TOOK A PILL AND HAD A DREAM
I WENT BACK TO MY 17TH YEAR
ALLOWED MYSELF TO BE NAIVE
TO BE SOMEONE I’VE NEVER BEEN
I TOOK A SIP AND HAD A DREAM
AND I WOKE UP IN Medellín
THE SUN WAS CARESSING MY SKIN
ANOTHER ME COULD NOW BEGIN

It already feels so far away. How could spring have been so long ago? How could the world have changed so much? I still remember those first few days of warmth, when the dream-like trance of this song held sway and Madonna shared the aural territory with Maluma, something she had achieved with similar success in ‘4 Minutes’ with Justin Timberlake, and less desirous results in ‘Me Against the Music’ with Britney Spears. Here their voices worked well together, and the casual vibe of this entry was a refreshing change of pace from earlier lead-off singles. [See ‘Material Girlâ’, ‘Like A Prayer‘, ‘Vogue‘, ‘Hung Up‘, ‘4 Minutes‘ and even ‘Gimme All Your Luvin.

TRANQUILA, BABY, YO TE APOYO
NO HAY QUE HABLARNOS MUCHO PARA ENTRAR EN ROLLO
SI QUIERES SER MI REINA PUES YO TE CORONO
Y PA’ QUE TE SIENTES AQUÃ TENGO UN TRONO
TE GUSTA CABALGAR, ESO ESTÃ CLARO
SI SIENTES QUE VOY RAPIDO LE BAJO
DISCÚLPAME, YO Sà QUE ERES MADONNA
PERO TE VOY A DEMOSTRAR CÃMO ESTE PERRO TE ENAMORA

In our backyard, I painted plant stands in shades of bright canary yellow – so bright and saturated with color that they almost hurt my eyes as they dried in the sun. I found a few pots glazed in a rainbow of fiery shades and filled them with ferns. The patio by the pool was soon a tropical paradise, and on an ancient, dusty CD player Madonna and Maluma traded verses. If you squinted at the rippling water and pretended the neighbor’s kids were quiet, you could almost picture the aqua brilliance of the ocean, the sway of the palm trees, the heat of the sand…

VEN CONMIGO, LET’S TAKE A TRIP
SI TE LLEVO PA’ UN LUGAR LEJANO
VEN CONMIGO, I’LL BE SO GOOD FOR YOU
TE ENAMORO, TE ENAMORO, MAMI (AY-AY-AY)
VEN CONMIGO, LET’S TAKE A TRIP
DAME DE ESO QUE TÚ ESTÃS TOMANDO
VEN CONMIGO, I’LL BE SO GOOD FOR YOU
(AY-AY-AY)

April made way for May, and our annual trips to Boston and New York were flavored with this song. Over daydreams of idyllic scenes, Madonna and Maluma beckon us to Medellín a place I’ve never been, but one which I imagine is another sort of paradise. Their voices married, the harmonies are divine and the chorus is one big euphoric release. ‘Dos casamos’ indeed.

Like the very best Madonna songs, ‘Medellín‘ lifts us out of whatever mundane existence in which we may be living and drops us into the middle of aural paradise. The ultimate fantasy, where warm breezes rustle coconut trees, every beautiful shade of blue and green extends in endless ocean, and the flowers in bloom shed their perfume like a perpetually-discarded veil of silk.

SIPPING MY PAIN JUST LIKE CHAMPAGNE
FOUND MYSELF DANCING IN THE RAIN WITH YOU
I FELT SO NAKED AND ALIVE (SHOW ME)
FOR ONCE I DIDN’T HAVE TO HIDE MYSELF (DICE)

Madonna’s voice is reminiscent of her ‘Ray of Light’ work – careful and concise, at times almost shy and tentative in the most moving fashion – and though it’s tinged with a bit too much autotune for some old-school fans, I think it works rather well here. Maluma’s contributions work too, and the video illustrates some playful chemistry (and more cinematic scope than what she did on ‘Rebel Heart’ lead-off single ‘Living For Love‘).

We hosted friends for dinner as the summer traipsed onward. Andy grilled burgers and steaks and hot dogs and chicken. I assembled quinoa salads and preciously-filled cucumber cups. The plants on the patio filled in – a banana tree unfurled leaf after wondrous leaf, the angel’s trumpets lowered their pendulous blooms, and the ferns gently waved their green fronds in the slightest breeze. A summer spent in the backyard need not be lacking in beauty and calm; sometimes it is the only place to find both at once.

OYE MAMACITA, ÂQUÃ TE PASA? (DIME)
MIRA QUE YA ESTAMOS EN MI CASA (YEAH)
SI SIENTE’ QUE HAY UN VIAJE AHÃ EN TU MENTE (WOO)
SERÃ POR EL EXCESO DE AGUARDIENTE (DILE)
PERO, MAMI, TRANQUILA, TÚ SOLO VACILA
QUE ESTAMOS EN COLOMBIA, AQUÃ HAY RUMBA EN CADA ESQUINA
Y SI TÚ QUIERES NOS VAMOS POR DETROIT (TÚ SABE’)
SI SÃ DE DÃNDE VIENES PUES SÃ PA’ DONDE VOY

From her earliest songs (‘Everybody‘ and ‘Holiday’) through such classics as ‘La Isla Bonita‘ and ‘Where’s the Party‘ and all the way to ‘Get Together‘, ‘Celebration‘, and ‘Turn Up the Radio‘ Madonna has often been about escapist entertainment. The need to get away – just one day out of life – is too often undervalued and underrated, not unlike Madonna herself. In so many ways, we seem to have lost the understanding of the importance of rest and rejuvenation, of taking a break and doing nothing, all in the name of recharging and replenishing. Our souls are starving for such a respite.

VEN CONMIGO, LET’S TAKE A TRIP
SI TE LLEVO PA’ UN LUGAR LEJANO
VEN CONMIGO, I’LL BE SO GOOD FOR YOU
TE ENAMORO, TE ENAMORO, MAMI (AY-AY-AY)
VEN CONMIGO, LET’S TAKE A TRIP
DAME DE ESO QUE TÃ ESTAS TOMANDO
VEN CONMIGO, I’LL BE SO GOOD FOR YOU (OKAY)
SI TE ENAMORO (SI ME ENAMORAS)
EN MENOS DE UN AÑO, NO, NO (HAHAHA)
NO’ VAMO’, NO’ VAMO’, NO VAMO’ PA’ MEDALLO (AY, QUÃ RICO)
SI TE ENAMORO (SI ME ENAMORAS)
ES LO QUE AMO, NO, NO
PUE’ MAMI, PUE’ MAMI, PUE’ MAMI, NOS CASAMOS
(CHA-CHA-CHA)

Just as the summer seemed like it might linger forever, cooler nights slipped in. The ostrich ferns by the pool began to go brown – first just the tips, then the entire frond – shriveling in on themselves like the Wicked West of the East under her final resting place. The sweet potato vines, long since extending their chartreuse limbs all the way from the canopy to the ground, began to get straggly and spent. They looked tired. Soon – too soon, like always – the air of fall snuck in through the darkened edges of evening. Still we hung on. Still we cherished the sunlight, and most especially the moonlight, when it was warm enough to be outside looking up at the sky.

WE BUILT A CARTEL JUST FOR LOVE
VENUS WAS HOVERING ABOVE US (OH, YEAH)
I TOOK A TRIP, IT SET ME FREE (MI REINA)
FORGAVE MYSELF FOR BEING ME (AY-AY-AY)
VEN CONMIGO, LET’S TAKE A TRIP
SI TE LLEVO PA’ UN LUGAR LEJANO
VEN CONMIGO, I’LL BE SO GOOD FOR YOU
TE ENAMORO, TE ENAMORO, MAMI (AY-AY-AY)
VEN CONMIGO, LET’S TAKE A TRIP
DAME DE ESO QUE TÚ ESTÃS TOMANDO
VEN CONMIGO, I’LL BE SO GOOD FOR YOU
SI TE ENAMORO (SI ME ENAMORAS)
EN MENOS DE UN AÑO, NO, NO
NO’ VAMO’, NO’ VAMO’, NO VAMO’ PA’ MEDALLO (AY, QUÃ RICO)
SI TE ENAMORO (SI ME ENAMORAS)
ES LO QUE AMO, NO, NO
PUE’ MAMI, PUE’ MAMI, PUE’ MAMI, NOS CASAMOS

Thus Madonna ushered in her ‘Madame X’ opus, and thus she sang over the credits for the entire summer season. We splashed. We laughed. We read. We walked. We laid in the sun and listened to music. We visited with friends and sat around citronella candles. We celebrated the summer and the healing balm of its warmth.

It all feels so far away now.

The count-off ticks down.

We return to where we are.

Summer is no more.

ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE, TWO, SLOW DOWN, PAPI

Slow down, slow down, slow down…

The eternal chant and wish for summer to last.

The wish and hope riding high on a season.

The feeling riding high on a song.

We dance. We sing.

We fade out with a whisper…

ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
ONE, TWO, AY-AY-AY
ONE, TWO, TWO, ONE
ONE, TWO, TWO, ONE
ONE, ONE, TWO, TWO
CHA, CHA-CHA-CHA

SONG #158 – ‘Medellín’ ~ Spring/Summer 2019

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Savannah, Still Haunting

This is a cop-out post, and by cop-out, I mean there’s an appearance by Andy, of whom no one seems to mind seeing a bit more in these parts. I don’t mind either. It also feels like a good time to post a few outtakes from our recent trip to Savannah, which still haunts me in all sorts of ways. Hopefully this is a fitting way to send off the month of November in sparkling yet somber style. 

~ Savannah Part One
~ Savannah Part Two
~ Savannah Part Three

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Dear Madonna: We’re On A Break

The post sent shockwaves through my FaceBook page, and I wrote it out rather hastily upon learning that Madonna had cancelled all of her Boston tour dates. (I had great seats for the first scheduled night.) Once I was sure that my hotel room could be refunded, however, I calmed the disappointment and anger I felt and moved quickly into acceptance and some silver-lining-seeking (the biggest boon of which was the grand sum of $1100 that was now headed back into my bank account at a time of the year when I need it the most).

Quite frankly, I wasn’t as devastated as I once would have been. This wasn’t my first Madonna show, and after seeing her as many times as I have it’s not the end of the world. And while I was excited and eagerly anticipating getting to see her on such an intimate level, I’ve always enjoyed the big spectacle she puts on, and this sounded like it was a completely different animal.

Then there was the late start time. We purchased tix for an 8 PM show. After appearing two-plus hours late on a regular basis, she changed the start time to 10:30 PM. And even then she was starting way beyond that, bringing the end time close to 1:30 to 2 AM in the morning. Good luck getting a T at that hour. (Hence the planned room across the street at the W Hotel.)

The Madame X Tour has been rife with injuries and difficulties, some of which was genuinely beyond her control, but some of which was simply poor planning or poor execution, and at this point in her career, and my life, I don’t need the bother of such nonsense.

That doesn’t mean I don’t still love Madonna.

I do.

I always will.

But we are very much on a brief break right now, and that’s ok.

The Madonna Timeline will return this weekend, just to prove that things are good.

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Comfort in Cake

Last Sunday dawned with rainfall – and the rain didn’t stop until the day gave away its light. I looked out at the pool, covered with leaves and ice and its dark green cover, and watched as the raindrops splashed into tiny countless umbrels, each lasting but a millisecond. Later in the day, it would turn to wet snow – large, clumpy flakes that didn’t do anything but cloud the sky. The earth wasn’t ready to let them stay just yet.

Andy remarked it was a day just like the one on which we buried his Mum. I stood there staring out the window, wishing for the sun, wishing for warmth, wishing for a little less hurt. A little while later he headed out in the rain to visit the cemetery. I stayed home and quickly assembled an applesauce cake that his mother used to make, using her original recipe.

Baking brings comfort to many, and I could understand why. The process was peaceful, even if little mistakes were made. Discovering that we were out of ground allspice, I remembered purchasing a package of whole allspice a while back, so I brought out the mortar and pestle and went to work. Usually I’ll forego sifting the dry ingredients because I’m in such a rush – this time I sifted and was happy to see some of the larger chunks of spice filtered out. (Also, here’s a gratuitous plug for Penzeys Spices which is an amazing company.)

Over the years I’ve gotten over my aversion to all things raisins and nuts, and these two ingredients are key in this applesauce cake. That doesn’t mean I went overboard with them – just the precise amount the recipe called for, and it was just enough. 

The rainy/snowy sky had darkened, and in the kitchen the scene had turned to one of cozy warmth, shot through with the scent of cinnamon and allspice and cloves. It wouldn’t bring back the past, but it was a way of remembering, of keeping love alive. When Andy returned home, it was time to check the cake. He would take over the frosting part because he does it so much better. With some buttercream frosting and festive sugar sparkle, the cake was complete. 

Sometimes two are enough for holiday joy and giving thanks for what we have.

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Thankful Remembrance

This is always a difficult part of the year in my home. Andy lost his Mom right around Thanksgiving, so as warm and fuzzy as we try to make these days, they are always tinged with the sorrow and sadness of missing her. I still remember leaving Thanksgiving dinner early when it was still at the Ko house to rush to the hospital, and I know this holiday remains bittersweet for Andy because of it. 

She is still with us, though, as we are constantly reminded of her in stories and memories and the regular visits of cardinals. To entice the latter even more, I hung this bell of seeds since most of the cup flower stalks have been robbed by the goldfinches and chipmunks. The cardinals made a feast of the seven sons flower tree earlier this fall, adding accents of scarlet to the soft pink seedheads. It made for a pretty, and soul-satisfying, sight ~ a sign of love from far away. 

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Meeting Madame X…

UPDATE: This post was written prior to Madonna canceling all her Boston tour dates (including the one I was scheduled to see). As you might be able to tell, I never had full faith that this show would go on, so I’m not totally butthurt by it. But more on that in a later post… come back for that one. In the meantime, here’s a bittersweet post that was written when there was still hope in the world.

Tomorrow marks the ninth time I will (hopefully) see Madonna live. With her ‘Madame X’ tour getting knocked about a bit – those super-late start times, those canceled first-shows in every city, that pesky knee injury – I’m not counting on anything, but if anyone can power through and put on a good show, it’s Madonna. From all accounts (none through cel phones since they aren’t allowed) this one features her latest album quite heavily, which is what she does best for her die-hard fans. (I still remember the magnificence of the ‘Drowned World Tour’ where she neglected most of her hits for her new songs – and it remains my favorite live outing.) Luckily, the ‘Madame X’ album is filled with pretty solid stuff, and I’m told the weaker songs benefit from the elevation of her live performance. 

In celebration of all that, here are a few Madonna Timeline links that should fuel your desire to hear such wonders play out in a theatrical setting:

~ ‘Express Yourself
~ ‘Vogue
~ ‘Future
~ ‘Batuka
~ ‘American Life
~ ‘Papa Don’t Preach
~ ‘Extreme Occident
~ ‘God Control

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

Biggest waste of a cookie: the snickerdoodle.

There. I said it.

What is the point of this bland and boring thing?

#TinyThreads

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This Cactus Again

She’s a real Thanksgiving cactus this year, opening her hot pink blooms for the holiday of gratitude, just as the world turns gray and brown. She’s put on a show before – quite a few in fact, when you consider that I’ve had her since about 2002. A gift from a co-worker, she was a tiny little thing that I shoved in the guest/storage room and basically forgot about over the years. That may have done her more good than harm, as overwatering these plants is their number one cause of death and distress. 

Over the years, I potted her up, trimmed her down, and did my best to coddle her once I saw her resilience and perennial beauty at this time of the year. It’s as if she sensed the most dismal and dark time of the year and decided to gift us a balm of beauty and bright color. There have been some rough patches along there way – recently, after upgrading her into a larger clay pot, she showed a flush of new growth, then suddenly lost one of her main stalks, reducing her structure by a good third, without reason or explanation. Since then, she’s slowly rebuilt herself, and this year’s crop of blooms is a fine one. A pleasant reminder that life is not about perfection, but the growth it takes to attempt it. 

 

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A Poem of Thanks

Thanksgiving
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We walk on starry fields of white

And do not see the daisies;

For blessings common in our sight

We rarely offer praises.

We sigh for some supreme delight

To crown our lives with splendor,

And quite ignore our daily store

Of pleasures sweet and tender.

 

Our cares are bold and push their way

Upon our thought and feeling.

They hang about us all the day,

Our time from pleasure stealing.

So unobtrusive many a joy

We pass by and forget it,

But worry strives to own our lives

And conquers if we let it.

 

There’s not a day in all the year

But holds some hidden pleasure,

And looking back, joys oft appear

To brim the past’s wide measure.

But blessings are like friends, I hold,

Who love and labor near us.

We ought to raise our notes of praise

While living hearts can hear us.

 

Full many a blessing wears the guise

Of worry or of trouble.

Farseeing is the soul and wise

Who knows the mask is double.

But he who has the faith and strength

To thank his God for sorrow

Has found a joy without alloy

To gladden every morrow.

 

We ought to make the moments notes

Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;

The hours and days a silent phrase

Of music we are living.

And so the theme should swell and grow

As weeks and months pass o’er us,

And rise sublime at this good time,

A grand Thanksgiving chorus.

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And So It (Officially) Begins: The Fucking Holidays

Just in case anybody had any doubts that it was the holiday season, it is.

There is no going back now.

But there are outs. 

And methods of escape, or simple avoidance.

I intend to try a few of them.

In the meantime, enjoy the very first live performance of this classic chestnut.

It’s Mariah’s world until the New Year.

All we can do is share it.

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