The Family in Savannah ~ Part One

“Art never responds to the wish to make it democratic; it is not for everybody; it is only for those who are willing to undergo the effort needed to understand it.” ~ Flannery O’Connor

Andy and I had been wanting to return to Savannah since we first toured the city together a few months ago, so we invited our parents along for a long weekend jaunt for some Southern charm and (ideally) some Southern sun. The latter appeared for a bit, and the former was everywhere we looked. Anything was better than the bit of snow upstate New York had, so we’re counting it a success, albeit a bittersweet one.

Like Boston, Savannah is mostly manageable by foot, but with Andy’s health issues and my Dad’s increasing infirmity, we kept close to our home base, opting for an Uber to get us to all our dining destinations. Luckily, the enchantment that is Savannah can be encapsulated and experienced within just a few of those magical squares, and from the moment we touched down and inhaled the swarthy air of the low country, we felt its spell working to erase the rigidity and regret of the Great Northeast.

Starting things off with some southern food at the Public (too conveniently located across the street from our hotel) we introduced Mom and Dad to the indelible fact that Savannah was, for us, in large part about the food ~ everything else came secondary. When our room was finally ready, everyone but me went back to rest up for dinner. I needed to walk some of that food off, so I ventured toward the river, following Bull Street through the pretty squares along the way. It was warm and sunny and felt so wonderfully far from November’s cold and rain. The camellia bushes were mostly in bud, with only one or two in bloom ~ I preferred it this way, cherishing each blossom like the treasure it was.

“The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience.” ~ Flannery O’Connor

As I reached the river, the sun was just descending and I got a text to call Chris. Sensing it was important, and not good, I called and he told me our friend Alissa had passed away. Chris had introduced me to her way back in 1998, and since that time we’d maintained our own friendship ~ from Boston to San Francisco and even halfway across the world when she moved to South Africa. She left behind a young daughter, Sophia, and my heart suddenly broke.

The sun in Savannah slanted differently then, as every sun every day hereafter would, and the loss would haunt me along every step of the trip.

Warnings of the steep historical steps leading me up away from the river were posted near the ferns and mosses of the crevices of stone as I climbed, wandering in a state of somber shock. I didn’t cry until I came upon a camellia bush in full bloom. I paused and inhaled its aroma. Alissa is one of those friends who truly appreciated the beauty and little pleasures our world has to offer ~ whether it’s a stunning dress, a bouquet of flowers, or a plate of artfully-rendered food. In this beautiful city, I sought solace in the gorgeous green squares, but there was none to be found.

Savannah, which was always haunted, now became haunted in a different way. A sadder way.

The light of the day drained away, sooner than I expected it. By the time I made my way back to the hotel, it was dark out. A volley of church bells pealed nearby.

The world felt lonely, and I was only beginning to process what had happened.

“Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place… Nothing outside you can give you any place… In yourself right now is all the place you’ve got.” ~ Flannery O’Connor

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Shirtless Celebrity Guys in GIFs and Speedos

Sometimes a few GIFs of shirtless male celebrities in their Speedos are just what the wintry week ordered to see us through to the weekend. The holidays are coming at us fast, and pretty soon this site will be all aglow with Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year’s merriment. (And all the requisite strife and stress that comes along with the joy.) Here’s some guy candy, mostly in GIF form, because hot shirtless guys never go out of style in these parts. First up is underwear model/singer/songwriter Shawn Mendes. You may recall Mr. Mendes in his skivvies here and here.

The pair of pics below features Nyle DiMarco, previously seen in (and mostly out of) Speedo form here and here and here, as well as Dan Levy, star of ‘Schitt’s Creek‘, who was crowned Hunk of the Day here

Jude Law and his infamous white Speedo are on greater display in this post, but it’s nice to see this hint of bulging bodaciousness

Charlie Puth buzzed his hair and took his shirt off earlier this year, and is worth another look.

Perennial favorite Pietro Boselli dons his favorite garment in this Speedo shot, and can be seen here, here, here, here and practically naked here. (And a bonus nude post.)

Jamie Dornan doffs Speedo and clothing altogether in this glimpse of gratuitous male nudity. Mr. Dornan also got naked here, here, and here

This twofer features Jonathan Tucker and Nick Jonas, both of whom enjoyed Hunkdom status and number of features posts as seen here, here, here, and here

And bringing up the rear like nobody’s business is Matthew Camp, who made a number of notable appearances here, here, and here.

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Cream – Get on Top!

Q: Why does everyone think the cook is mean?

A: He beats the eggs and whips the cream.

From Prince’s sorely under-rated ‘Diamonds & Pearls’ album – an unlikely holiday collection from my childhood – this is ‘Cream’ – and a more fitting song to accompany these creamy pics may not exist. This was just a quick photo shoot of selfies taken after I had finished assembling an icebox cake for a work lunch. There was lots of whipped cream left over, so what’s a boy supposed to do?

THIS IS IT
IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO GO TO THE WIRE
YOU WILL HIT
‘CAUSE YOU GOT THE BURNIN’ DESIRE
IT’S YOUR TIME (TIME)
YOU GOT THE HORN SO WHY DON’T YOU BLOW IT
YOU ARE FINE (FINE)
YOU’RE FILTHY CUTE AND BABY YOU KNOW IT

This song takes me back to 1991. The 90’s were new then, and some of us, Prince included, were still not quite ready to get over the 80’s. ‘Cream’ solidified his chart status, even as some critics weren’t overly impressed by the album as a whole. I happened to love it – it’s pure pop confection, all wisps of sugar, spun into musical gold, with nothing too heavy, or heavy-handed, to muck things up. Maybe that’s why some people didn’t like it – too frivolous, too fun, too silly to make a difference and advance the musical legacy of genius. This was the era where he busted his butt out for an MTV performance of his song ‘Gett Off’, swiveling his hips in a canary yellow, cut-out lace pant-suit with a scandalously-sheer window for his ass. Then he turned around and shook it for the audience. Peachy indeed. With that one single move, Prince taught me all I needed to know of the power and limitations of being cheeky. Well, maybe Madonna helped out a bit a year later too. Together they were my King and Queen of Provocation, and I worshipped at the altar of 80’s excess.

YOU’RE SO GOOD
BABY THERE AIN’T NOBODY BETTER (AIN’T NOBODY BETTER)
SO YOU SHOULD
NEVER, EVER GO BY THE LETTER (NEVER EVER)
YOU’RE SO COOL (COOL)
EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SUCCESS
MAKE THE RULES (RULES)
THEN BREAK THEM ALL ‘CAUSE YOU ARE THE BEST
YES YOU ARE

1991 was a rather dim time, particularly that fall, which is by its nature the dimming portion of the year. Suzie was away in Denmark and I was floundering in the midst of familial strife brought on by my being so strikingly different that no one knew what was going on. Looking back, it was the beginning of social anxiety, coupled with a world that never taught me being gay might be ok. Still there was joy to be found, no matter how serious or upsetting everything often felt. I turned to pop culture to escape, and in the process I found my salvation.

In a song.

In a dance.

In a bit of cream…

DO YOUR DANCE
WHY SHOULD YOU WAIT ANY LONGER?
TAKE A CHANCE
IT COULD ONLY MAKE YOU STRONGER
IT’S YOUR TIME (IT’S YOUR TIME)
YOU GOT THE HORN SO WHY DON’T YOU BLOW IT (GO ON AND BLOW IT)
YOU’RE SO FINE (YOU’RE SO FINE)
YOU’RE FILTHY CUTE AND BABY YOU KNOW IT (YOU KNOW IT)
CREAM
GET ON TOP
CREAM
YOU WILL COP
CREAM
DON’T YOU EVER STOP
CREAM

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Before and After The November Freeze

Our dogwood and Japanese maple trees held onto their fiery leaves for as long as possible, but a deep freeze, a hint of snow, and some forceful gusts of wind took the show away. Thankfully there are a few photos to capture the glory forever. It’s not quite the same thing – far from it – but it will have to do. Until the holiday pizzazz is brought out (just a little too early for that in these parts, but soon…) these memories will have to do. The long stretch of grays and browns has only just begun, and then the slow, laborious winter will begin. There are creative endeavors to see us through – ideas for projects so personal and precious they will provide the warmth and love that must keep winter’s cruelty at bay. Come, stay cozy here. Find comfort and light, heat and humility. A new order of the kindest kind. 

 

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Pineapple Upside (Break)Down Cake

This recipe for disaster was brought to you by one of those paleo “cooks” named Will-o’-the-Wisp or Paleo Princess or something, and I should have stopped right there because I’m not even on a paleo diet. However, since there was some almond flour in the pantry, and as I’ve been eating better of late, I typed ‘almond flour cake’ into the Google machine to see what came up. It brought me down a winding and dangerous dark-web path to this paleo recipe of pineapple upside down cake. We had all but the pineapple to make it, so I stopped by Price Chopper and picked up a freshly-cored p-apple. I sliced it up, lined the bottom of a springform pan with the fruit, then made the sad little bit of batter.

It felt wrong from the beginning. What kind of batter was this? How could it be both too runny and too stiff? How could it be so lifeless? How it could be so… thin? There was no way it was going to even cover the pineapple. If it’s the same on both sides can it really be called an upside down cake? How would one even tell the damn difference? I sighed a gluten-free sigh as I shoved the mess into the oven. 

Halfway through the cooking time I peeked in through the oven door. As suspected it had risen maybe all of two millimeters. The cherries weren’t close to submerged, so this would indeed be a cake that could work upside down, right side up, inside out or topsy turvy, assuming it was remotely edible. A big-ass assumption if ever there was one. 

I took it out and let it rest for fifteen minutes. Releasing it from the spring-form pan, I had one single thought: doesn’t stick, my ass. Stupid lie of a recipe. I tried to cut it away from the sides. Somehow it came out intent. I flipped the piece of shit and miraculously it didn’t crumble. But it was about the thickness of a slice of pineapple, and just utterly crap. I managed to carve out a slice, then braved the ugly thing. It was a soggy, shitty forkful of something whose only purpose was to vex me and take up valuable space that could have been used for something much more enjoyable – like a fucking rice cake. A fucking stale rice cake. Oh well. I don’t need it if I want to fit into any holiday pants, I suppose. 

This is why I don’t use almond flour or attempt healthy desserts – they just never turn out right – and I’m not going on the hunt for xantham gum or whatever the hell that is (it wouldn’t even let me type it in correctly for the first three times because no one wants to use it, not even antiquated WordPress sites). Can’t believe I wasted a pretty plate on this pine shit. 

Anyway, write in another kitchen-baked fail to my impressive pancake-laden culinary curriculum vitae

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Waiting Like A Dog, My Ass Hanging Out

I imagine that this is how some dogs await the return of their beloved owner. 

Sometimes this is how I wait for Andy. 

The cheeky part is done solely for the photograph

Life is getting way too serious.

Time for a Dan-Dee Donuts mooning episode, because some things should never change.

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The Flames Before the Slumber

Our garden has just about gone to bed, but not before burning up the landscape in the afternoon sunlight. Here you see the once-magnificent stands of the cup plant, shriveled and dried to a dull brown. The fountain grass is still putting on its show – a show that will run throughout the rest of the winter, with feathery seedbeds that have risen ten feet in the air – texture and architecture dominating what will be the winter garden. 

The bright yellow foliage of the Rosa rugosa continues to go strong as well, lighting up the lower tier, and there are still quite a few fruits left on the dogwood, despite the insistent and daily visitation of a relentless band of squirrels. I’m not quite ready to say goodbye, but it’s time. 

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Serving Recap Realness

We’ve just returned from a long weekend in Savannah, Georgia – and the very worst part of a vacation is when it ends, so while we regain our footing and get back into the working swing of things, here’s a quick recap of the week the came before. (Stay tuned for tales of Georgia later this week…)

Sam Smith went disco Donna on our asses and we loved every minute of it. 

Liam Payne stripped down to his underwear for Hugo Boss. 

Our house went up in smoke

Leaves of a ghost.

Dan Osborne’s bulge in a box. 

Fiery fountain.

The lovely lulls.

Rose leaves aflame.

We shall have tea.

Shirtless male celebrities.

More shirtless male celebrities.

Saturday night viewing.

Review preview of Savannah.

Low-hanging balls.

Bright flaming red.

Hunks of the Day included Frank Catania, Usher, Colton Grey, Robbie Savage, Jordan Franks, Druny Williams, and Evan Todd.

 

 

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Acer in the Sky

A bit of red and blue seems fitting for this Monday holiday, and as we honor our Veterans, let us take a moment to pause in the stillness of the dawn of this day. We will revisit the past week in a captivating recap later today – for now, just a few photos for contemplation. The world needs more honor. More respect. More time to acknowledge what a precious privilege it is to be alive, to be present, to be here. 

Japanese Maple
by Clive James, 2o14

Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
Breath growing short
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
Of energy, but thought and sight remain:

Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree
And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?

Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.

My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that.That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:

Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colors will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone
So brightly at the last, and then was gone.

“Even when a river of tears
courses through
this body,
the flame of love
cannot be quenched.”
― Izumi Shikibu

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Low Hanging Balls

DO YOUR BALLS HANG LOW?
CAN YOU SWING THEM TO AND FRO?
CAN YOU TIE THEM IN A KNOT?
CAN YOU TIE THEM IN A BOW?
DO THEY MAKE A HOLLOW SOUND
WHEN YOU DRAG THEM ON THE GROUND?
DO YOUR BALLS HANG LOW?

Such low-hanging dogwood fruit has been both a boon and a bane to the intrepid squirrels this fall season. There was a bumper crop, thanks to the rather long and dry summer stretch that dogwoods love. It was a blessing to the squirrels, who climb their way onto the very edge of these tremulous branches, even when hanging dangerously over the pool, and then perch on their haunches, turning the fruit in their little paws and eating them like apples. It would be comical if it wasn’t so messy.

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A Review-Preview of Savannah

According to our schedule, we are due to return from Savannah, Georgia today, and in preparation for the posts that will likely follow from said trip, here’s a linky look back at previous time spent in that magical place. 

The very first time I visited Savannah I was on my own in 1997, having driven down the Eastern coast on a solo trip from my Royal Rainbow World Tour. Savannah was an impromptu stop to save myself when I realized just how far Florida was. I hadn’t yet read ‘Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil’, and I had no idea of the enchantment that Savannah held. Mostly I stayed to the Marriott on the river, venturing out only for a couple of quick walks. There were ghosts there, and I felt their presence to such an extent that I didn’t want to go out at night. Instead, I ordered room service and turned all the lights on. It wasn;’t until the sun came out the next day that I took in the beauty of the city. I drove beneath the Spanish moss and traveled around the historic squares before leaving. I vowed to return, even if it would take two decades. 

That second trip was inspired by the Book and the Movie, and a dear old friend. JoAnn had been wanting to visit for a few years, and I was more than ready to return, so a couple of years ago we booked a trip and touched down in the midst of the magic. It was a beautiful experience, and the ghosts I felt this time were kinder and friendlier, or maybe I was just less scared. When you’ve seen twenty years of life, not a lot can scare you. We had the best time – the only thing missing was Andy, and I vowed to rectify that.

Savannah is, at its heart, a romantic place. Love and passion and the fever of beauty conspire in one glorious mix of sensual indulgence. I wanted to share that with Andy, so earlier this year we made our own trip there, wherein we could indulge in all the treats the city could offer

Now we have brought my parents to this enchanted place, and we’ll report back how they – and we – enjoyed it. 

“Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.” – Ernest Hemingway

 

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A Weekend of Television

The older I get, and the more I see of real life, the more I wish we could return to a simpler time. That meant sitcoms and pizza on weekend nights. It was a wood-paneled family room where we all gathered. A dinner where we all sat to eat, no phones or computers or televisions. In my case, it was the 80’s, and though the background was the corporate coldness of a Reagan-fueled greediness (hell, I was being raised by proud Republicans) inside our home there was safety and warmth and the innocent umbrella of childhood keeping out all the acid rain. 

Fridays were for roast beef subs with shredded lettuce, and later, when I finally acquired a taste for it, pizza (I didn’t always like it because I was a very strange child). Then we’d move into the family room for ‘Webster’ and ‘Mr. Belvedere’ and ‘CHiPS’ and ‘Dallas‘. 

Saturday mornings were about cartoons – the Snorks and the Smurfs and then whatever PBS had to offer – painting with Bob Ross if there was nothing else. Throughout it all, my brother and I would play and engage with toys and legos and other things. We could do both so watching that much television wasn’t like we were glued zombie-like to the screen. 

Saturday night television memories seem to revolve around a later section of childhood, when ‘The Facts of Life’ and ‘The Golden Girls’ were on and we could stay up a bit later. Eventually we’d graduate to ‘Saturday Night Live’ by the time I got to high school, and television was less a communal event, and more of a way to pass the weekend until Monday arrived. 

PS – Sunday shout-out to ‘Punky Brewster’!

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Shirtless Male Celebrity Saturday – Part 2

Continued from the first shirtless male celebrity post today, this is a follow-up with more shirtless guys, anchored by someone who is not completely shirtless here, but offers more than a peek of what he has to offer. It’s Tom Ford, so he’s allowed to break the shirtless rule, as the glimpse of chest hair makes up for it. A naked Tom Ford is often considered the best Tom Ford of all, but I actually prefer his scents to his skin.

Donnie Rust may very well be the sexiest busker in the world, though we are always on the lookout for other contenders. 

A pair of blokes from ‘Love Island’ makes a happy pool visage. Here are Eyal Booker and Wes Nelson from that island of Love. 

More splish-splashing is to be found in this shot of Cameron Dallas, who was also shirtless here and here

Olympic glory is brought by Brinn Bevan, while simple Hunk heat is brought by Matt Bomer. Search the archives for even more male celebrity nudity. (The search box is below – populate it, baby.)

Harry Judd dances his hot ass off, and thrusts his stuff, which can be seen in all its glory here, and here, and here.

Feast your eyes upon this perfect pair of guy candy/eye candy: Clay Honeycutt and Lance Parker.

As we did with the first part of this shirtless male celebrity post, we close with the rear-end of a former Hunk of the Day: here’s a naked Charlie Carver to add some happy to the ending. 

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Shirtless Male Celebrity Saturday – Part 1

Shirtless male celebrities used to form a mainstay here, especially on Saturdays. That’s a tradition that needs to be brought into regular effect, so let’s begin with this pair of pics of Jake Quickenden, who has been here in a Hunk of the Day feature as well as this hunky compilation. (And definitely this one too.)

Posing beside a picture of paradise, Cody Christian looks right where I need to be. He looks just as shirtless here as he did here and here and here

A pair of gingers is comprised of Race Imboden and Greg Rutherford

A search for “Naked Henry Cavill” or “Henry Cavill Nude” may bring you right back to this place. Or perhaps you prefer something like Mr. Cavill simply shirtless or pants-less or just wet. Here he is doing a little bit of all that.

The youthful nature of pop music brings us to these two slightly polarizing beauties: Shawn Mendes and Justin Bieber.

One hunk that the world seems to agree on is Pietro Boselli. As evidenced here, here, here, and here

Brining up the beautiful back of this post is Michael Xavier, giving a glimpse of heaven.

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A Cuppa

What wonder might be found in a cup of tea?

What fortune will be spilled in the dredge of tea leaves?

What secrets will be whispered over the wisps of tea steam?

I’ve had this tea cup for over ten years. It came with a large irregularly shaped saucer, to allow for a biscuit or cookie to accompany the hot goodness. I rarely use that accoutrement. Life doesn’t let me be that fancy or precious as a general rule. But by God I try. 

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” â€• Fyodor Dostoevsky

 

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