This one goes out to Kira, who is a big fan of Jason Momoa. I loved his dusty pink velvet suit at the Oscars this year. Mr. Momoa has been a Hunk of the Day previously, as well as general eye candy in posts such as this. Here’s another one for Kira, and all of his many fans.
Who types the closed-captioning for Spectrum News Albany? Asking for the literate.
How best to introduce a new project when it feels like we just had one?
I find it best to do so quietly, in small, little ways.
Like this flower clock countdown.
for
no
one…
Outside of certain classical music circles, it’s rather an obscure piece. Enjoying none of the mainstream appeal of Saint-Saëns’s ‘Carnival of the Animals’ or Sergei Prokofiev’s ‘Peter and the Wolf’, the Flower Clock takes its inspiration from the transient beauty of the floral world. It reminds me of a quintessential summer day, practicing the oboe while the sun shone outside, a warm breeze gently rustling the curtains of the room in which I stood. My teacher had assigned the piece because it was a popular one for oboes. (We took our ducky features when and where we could find them.)
The green of the outside world was at its freshest – the leaves had not yet hardened off or deepened into their darker, more leathery texture. There was still time to stretch and grow into their hardiness. When youth is blushing and bursting forth, you don’t want to hurry the process. A season only lasts so long, and the more of them that pass, the faster they seem to go.
At first I was annoyed that the Queen would entertain Trump at a banquet. Then I saw him in white tie and tails. Well-played, your Majesty.
Not an apathy toward the world – quite the contrary.
An apathy to what I wear and how my hair looks.
That’s the best part of summer to me.
I’ll get dolled up in fall and spring.
For summer, and to a lesser extent winter, the weather is too extreme to care about anything other than comfort. Hence the upcoming batch of sleeveless shirts and baggy swimsuits. (Not to worry, I’ll throw in a Speedo shot or two to maintain blog traffic momentum – and maybe it will even be me in it.)
As for other summer wardrobe, I’ve amassed a sizable cadre of caftans and cover-ups for poolside lounging, summer gatherings, and any possible beach trips. (Sadly none of the latter are on our horizon, but a guy can dream of the sea and dress for it even if it’s nowhere near.) Caftans and cover-ups are a godsend for those pesky comfort-food pounds I’ve been packing away since fall. Oh who am I kidding – give me a flowing piece of clothing that approximates a robe and I’m a happy clam.
Yum – fried clams. Bring it on home.
This month will fly by all too quickly, so I’m trying to pace myself and enjoy the moments as they come. That’s the whole point of the summer, and since we have a few more weeks before it officially arrives, I’m starting to practice now. On with the recap of the previous week… please take your time.
A few #TinyThreads for a tapestry.
This coat sparkled on Broadway.
June arrived in all of its splendor.
A Boston weekend that was all about a yellow dress.
Hunks of the Day included Blake Jenner and Jay Harrington.
You know those grumpy parents who come home after a day of work and need a couple of hours of quiet time without bother or interruption? I am one of those grumpy parents. Without the annoying kids. Thank Christ for that small grace.
The happiest month of the year is finally at hand! School’s about to end and summer is about to begin. For the past two years I’ve also taken the summer off, but this year I’m going to see if I can stick around to deal with any summer doldrums that may crop up. I’m not promising anything, but there should be a post or two per day until I get back into the serious swing of things come fall. There’s also a new project to promote, and since it comes out in July I think it best that I be here to explain it all when the proverbial shit hits the fan. Just kidding – it’s my most kid-friendly work ever, so it’s safe for all to see. I’m still figuring out the best way to post it, as it’s more of a love-letter to the kids in my life (and their parents) than it is an artistic statement/project that stands alone. All intriguing, all new to me. It also marks my first foray into a new art form. But that will be seen soon enough. Best to stoke the anticipatory fire and fan the promotional flames. Let’s just say that it involves a lifelong obsession of mine and is, in its own way (wait for it…) groundbreaking.
It is impossible to extoll the benefits and wonders of a proper afternoon siesta. I don’t know why this country hasn’t gotten on board with such a thing, but then again I don’t know why this country is doing much of what it’s doing right now. Following our morning walk and shopping adventures, Kira and I returned to the condo at my favorite hour – just as the sun was pouring into the bedroom bay window. We dozed for about an hour, recharging our batteries for a late dinner and the fun that would form a pre-cursor to all of that.
The fun began with an impromptu fashion show, the kind of thing we typically do after a bout of shopping. For once Kira had something to wear too! She found the perfect pair of shoes to go with her new dress, and a steal on a pair of chandelierious earrings.
Speaking of perfect pairs, I served up a tart grapefruit gin cocktail for Kira (in the pink) and a loose Last Word for myself (in the green). A wise woman once said that pink goes good with green, so who are we to argue?
Filling in the sunny shade of yellow we needed was The Dress. It was the embodiment of a spring day, a virtual sundrop – the jaunty shade of a jonquil in frilly, ruffled form.
Sipping a cocktail and wearing this dress heightened the afternoon. We sat by the open windows looking out onto Braddock Park. The fountain was running – sweet music that would soothe until well after the first whispers of fall arrived. Dogs and their walkers strode by, as did a few neighborhood children. This was usually a magical hour, especially if you wanted to take a glass and sit on the stoop watching the world pass by.
I slipped on a new jacket as the light slowly and reluctantly slipped from the sky. We made our way to my favorite new haunt, Nahita, for one more drink before dinner at Strip.
Andy and I just had an anniversary meal at Nahita, which we instantly adored for its lush tropical feel and peppy bartenders, so I shared it with Kira to bring back a little of that magic. When a happy experience drops into the pool of life, it expands into ever-widening circles. Sometimes they end up bouncing back, criss-crossing upon themselves in happy repetition. At such times memories are shared and revived, and they go to live on in the memories of others, criss-crossing other circles of friends and family until we are all, in one way or another, connected.
Kira and I have been making these memories for over twenty years, looping in and out of each other’s lives sometimes regularly and sometimes quite sporadically, but we always seem to return to these times in Boston, where nothing more than a fancy dress and a blue moon are needed to make it special. The only thing that changes is our hair – hers is shorter, mine is grayer.
Until next time…
How long had it been since I’d seen the sun in Boston? Too long. After a rainy trip along the Mass Turnpike, and a rainy entry into the city, at which point I promptly took a nap while the skies sprinkled, Kira and I were in dire need of some sun. It arrived to greet us the next morning, and we were so thrilled we immediately went outside and spent the morning walking.
Cafe Madeleine provided a welcome croissant for breakfast-to-go, and we messily ate the buttery flakiness as we wound our way through the South End. (I’d have found us a bench, but they would be wet from all the rain the day before. Besides, it’s easier to pretend you’re not making a croissant mess if you stay in motion.)
I paused at this potted Rosa rugosa – the first rose of the season – and I leaned down to inhale its seaside-conjuring scent. It reminded me of Ogunquit, and Cape Cod, and all the summery goodness that this world, at its best, is capable of producing. There in the midst of bricks and cement, the perfume of escape tickled the nose, recalling the beach, the grass, the sand and the salty sea. Summer was suddenly on the tip of my tongue.
Everything around us seemed to show off in the sunlight, such as these purple pansies and fluttering lavender blooms. These were found along Massachusetts Ave, which we followed to Newbury Street. Spring weather, and the need for summer garb, put us in the mood for shopping. Not that it ever takes all that much…
We had reservations for a very late dinner at Strip by Strega, and I wanted us to be extra fancy, so I convinced Kira to buy a new dress at Forever 21. She’s the size of a twig, so those items fit her, and if I can find a robe or wrap in XL, some can even fit me. We ended up with some pool wear and a bright yellow Beyonce dress that was only missing a baseball bat. We crossed over to Boylston and found a couple of coupe glasses at Crate and Barrel, and then it was time for a break. We sidled up to the bar at Earl’s, even though the outside action upstairs seemed to be where all the fun was at on such a perfectly sunny day. Sometimes it’s good to be quiet and away from the crowd.
A lobster tostada and some truffle fries made for a lovely lunch, providing just enough fuel to make is through the second half of our shopping expedition. Through Lord & Taylor, H&M, and Nordstrom Rack we sought out a cheap jacket for me, eventually finding one in light blue that would set off Kira’s dress impeccably.
Shopping feels more draining when there is a goal and objective – I much prefer casual browsing without pressure or intent. Tired-out and ready for a Saturday siesta, we made our way back through Copley, and Southwest Corridor Park – so fresh and bright and verdant in these early days – turned out its prettiest self. It was time for rejuvenation and refreshment…
The trick of any good summer day is how to keep your book out of the water.
When I think of June, I often think of Lee Bailey, the gardener/chef/designer/lifestyle guru who was Martha Stewart before she became Martha Stewart, and who passed away several years ago. His books, such as ‘Country Weekends’ and ‘Country Flowers’, remain among the most inspiring in my collection. I’ve been perusing his Southern cooking recipes in preparation for an upcoming weekend in Connecticut. (Hey, it’s south of us, so Southern cooking will work. Anything warmer than Zone 5 will be a welcome blast of heat at this point.)
Mr. Bailey once described June as the time of the year when the roses were practically tumbling off their trellises, so prolific and abundant was their blooming power during this month. June is certainly one of the happiest months, containing within it the last day of school and the first day of summer and the promise of a sunny stretch of warmth (even if may not arrive until July).
June is all hope and freshness and beginnings, and it shows in the blush of the roses.
It’s Friday night, so let’s have an easy-on-the-eyes-and-intellect kind of post. These are just a few pairs of photos from some handsome blokes who have appeared here before in various states of undress. It begins with an actual pair of gents – Jack Laugher and Dan Goodfellow – British divers who have filled out Speedos prior to this in posts that can be seen here, here, and here. They also tend to hang out with Tom Daley, who has had his share of Speedo features here, here and here.
Maluma has made quite a splash of late thanks to an assist by Madonna. He’s also been a Hunk of the Day here.
Shawn Mendes continues his Calvin Klein conquering of the underwear world, even if the boxer brief motif is getting a little tired and stale. Did no one think to put him into a pair of simple briefs like these guys? No matter. Mr. Mendes has lit up this blog in posts like this and this, so he gets his double nod here.
Last but most definitely not least is this pair of photos from Gus Kenworthy and a very lucky bike. Mr. Kenworthy has appeared in all his naked glory here and here and very much here. Three little links that open way up. Which is better: front or back?
Sunny days have been few and far between this spring, so when we have one we’ve sort of been going crazy. Such was the state of affairs when I met up with Kira in Boston a couple of weekends ago. It was a Full Blue Moon, some crazy bit of astrological torture that rivals Mercury in Retrograde for wreaking havoc on folks cognizant of it and completely unaware. This time I fell in the latter group, as I only realized it after-the-fact. Sometimes that’s helpful, as when you want to be extra careful about not leaving your credit card somewhere besides your wallet. (Ahem, guilty.) And sometimes you realize things would have gone just as awry if there were no moon at all. But I’m getting ahead of myself and the tale of this trajectory, so let me begin with a rather annoying trip on the Mass Pike.
Following a bunch of Massholes driving 60 MPH in the passing lane and not allowing the sane ones among us to get by put an initial damper on the day, and the steady fall of rain for the cajillionth weekend in a row did nothing to abate it. I did learn a little lesson on that day, as I seethed and swore whilst in the throes of a rare bout with road rage, and it was this: the only person getting upset and angry and ruining their day in the situation was me. The other driver was blithely unaware of the pack of fifty vehicles that had collected behind them, each as agitated as the others, and even with high beams or horns blaring, my fit of wrath was not going to have any effect on the person ahead of me. The single thing which I could, with some effort, manage was my own take on the situation.
So I eased off the gas a little.
I took a deep breath.
I turned up the music and started to sing. “Ven comigo, let’s take a trip!” I sound amazing in the car when no one can hear me.)
The anger subsided.
The rage disintegrated.
The wrath fell completely apart.
In a few miles, my countenance had completely changed. Even in the rain that would accompany me for the entire trip into Boston (and a few hours beyond) my spirit would not be dampened. It was reassuring to see that in the midst of such fury, a reserve of peace and calm could be found if I focused enough on not focusing on what irritated me. (A lesson I should bring to my Twitter account.)
An auspicious start to a May weekend in Boston… I’ll describe it more fully in Sunday’s posts.
