“There was one of his lonelinesses coming, one of those times when he walked the streets or sat, aimless and depressed, biting a pencil at his desk. It was a self-absorption with no comfort, a demand for expression with no outlet, a sense of time rushing by, ceaselessly and wastefully – assuaged only by that conviction that there was nothing to waste, because all efforts and attainments were equally valueless.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“I shall go on shining as a brilliantly meaningless figure in a meaningless world.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“I had traded the fight against love for the fight against loneliness, the fight against life for the fight against death.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“There was a kindliness about intoxication – there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“The notion of sitting down and conjuring up, not only words in which to clothe thoughts but thoughts worthy of being clothed–the whole thing was absurdly beyond his desires.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“Routine comes down like twilight on a harsh landscape, softening it until it is tolerable. The complexity is too subtle, too varied; the values are changing utterly with each lesion of vitality; it has begun to appear that we can learn nothing from the past with which to face the future… so we cease to be impulsive, convincible men, interested in what is ethically true by fine margins, we substitute rules of conduct for ideas of integrity, we value safety above romance, we become, quite unconsciously, pragmatic.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“He was handsome then if never before, bound for one of those immortal moments which come so radiantly that their remembered light is enough to see by for years.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

“I’ve got a streak of what you’d call cheapness. I don’t know where I get it but it’s oh, things like this and bright colors and gaudy vulgarity. I seem to belong here. These people could appreciate me and take me for granted, and these men would fall in love with me and admire me, whereas the clever men I meet would just analyze me and tell me I’m this because of this or that because of that.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful And Damned’

For most of my childhood, we would spend the Fourth of July at a family friend’s house, where a number of Amsterdam’s finest would assemble and celebrate in grand fashion with lots of food and drink, and a comical re-enactment of Lincoln giving an address from a second story balcony. I didn’t understand much (if any) of the humor to those performances, but judging from the laughs and groans they must have been ribald and bawdy, and something I’d totally appreciate today. Back then that was the yawn-inducing portion of the day for us. More exciting was the freedom to roam an extensive yard, and play games like tug-of-war and softball. While the latter did nothing for me, the former afforded a tantalizing glimpse of a few formal garden beds.

Spires of blue delphinium backed by meticulously manicured rows of privet caught my eye, while rows of cucumbers and squash wound their tenacious tendrils around anything in their path. One of the joys of my childhood was stumbling upon someone else’s garden. They always seemed nicer and better than my own, in the way that a salad or sandwich always looks better when made by someone else.

I’d rather have spent the day dawdling in the garden, hidden from the crowds behind walls of leafy green, secreted away among the loud chattering of black-eyed Susans and pink petunias. Yet try as I might, I couldn’t get my brother or Suzie or anyone else we happened to be hanging around to stay very long in such seclusion. They did well with the company of others, entranced by the action of competition, while I was better off on my own.

Escaping from the throngs of sweaty revelers, I stepped into the quiet of the house. In the entrance hall an ornate vase held a bouquet of delphiniums. I stood there in the darkened coolness, studying the flower forms and the composition of the bouquet, grateful for the solitude. Away from the screams and laughter and nonsense, it was my own first step towards independence.

With more work on the new project taking up all my available time, a two-part pictorial of pool fun is the best I can offer right now. Cause we need a holiday…

The clip of Channing Tatum channeling his inner vogue boy is absolutely everything. It stands alone as an afternoon post because it can. He can currently be seen with a lot less clothing in the ‘Magic Mike XXL‘ sequel out this week. Or you can peruse our previous posts of a very nude Channing Tatum here, and here, and here.

Strike a pose, indeed.

… though you wouldn’t know it by the cool temps and rainy mess that’s falling from the sky. Still in the weeds while whittling way at the new project, I’m filling this space with filler and links in the hopes that you’ll bookmark it and come back when the dust has settled. Or enjoy the dust storm like a one-winged dove…

July brings back summer memories, like this one-night-stand.

It reminds me of the hot pavement in New York.

A ridiculous Roxette song.

A babysitting adventure.

A summer stalking.

A Madonna poster.

A shy guy.

A good read.

A male nude.

A hunk named Nick.

The random nature of this blog is about to get even more-so, as project work keeps me busier than a privet-drunk bee. There’s just not enough time, and too much to do. When that happens, we like to go a little crazy. Vainglorious, ridiculous and fabulous thoughts that cross the weary mind…

On decadent nights or rainy days, I like to wear ‘Un Jardin après la Mousson’ by Hermès.

The most important items you wear may be your socks.

Mistakes make the world perfect.

Remember that time Zac Efron grabbed this guy’s crotch?

I get high off linden trees. (And the aforementioned privet. I just do.)

Smells like skunk.

Go on and beet it. Just beet it. Whoo!

And then make a change.

To this one, for Michael.

No, Michael.

I said Michael!

Not that one, this Michael!

No, I’m not high now. Linden, privet or brownie-wise.

I don’t feel like doing a Hunk of the Day today. Instead, a flash of silliness for the foot enthusiasts. A double flash, in fact, courtesy of Cherelle and Robert Palmer. Which do you prefer?

It was a week in which the Supreme Court ended our heretofore-lifelong battle for marriage equality, and for that I am supremely grateful. Strange that I should be so appreciative of a right that should have been ours from the beginning, but I guess that’s the strange jubilation that arrives when justice is delivered. I’m far too cynical and smart to think this is going to change the minds of ignorant homophobic assholes, but it’s a beginning. And though it doesn’t change my love, nor my five-year-old marriage, it does galvanize it in some way, because it is now recognized throughout the country. Thank you to the five Supreme Court justices that saw fit to grant all of us our dignity. (I’ll deal with the four disgraces who were against equality another time.)

The growing season at its start is the best part.

Music to the eyes and ears was provided by Hunk of the Day Chris Botti.

Proving that his new guardian still has impeccable taste, the guy that Madonna featured in her latest video is Jon Kortajarena.

The lazy season is underway.

Fashion spunk of the highest order was brought to life by Kyle Brincefield.

So pretty I could eat it up.

Broadway Barer Casey Lee Ross, in the bare.

Flowers came in magenta, white, and sundrop yellow.

Making a mockery of it all.

Luke Casey was such a hit his first time around as Hunk of the Day, he’s already earned his second.

These guys have also been honored previously, but one can never have enough nude Adam Levine.