This particular statue holds a special place in my heart, as it stands sentinel in front of the patch of green where Andy and I were married. At this time of the year, it’s still too soon to be surrounded by much life, but soon – very soon – it will be backed by a trio of pink Kwanzan cherries, the chartreuse strands of weeping willows, and a majestic Metasequoia. The duck-and-swan-filled pond will return to squawking activity, and the foot-bridge will carry pedestrians from flowering tree to flowering tree. It will return. It always does.
02
April
2014
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April
2014
Hiding Under the Table
Family friends Elaine and Tony are due to see our new kitchen for the first time since returning from Florida a couple of weeks ago. They are always a bright presence in our lives, and especially in our home. Since they head down to Florida for the winter, if they’re here it means that spring and summer are on the way. This Saturday we’ll be hosting them and my parents, and I can’t wait.
I can almost smell the blown-out candles now. That’s always been the scent of happiness – signifying the end of a special meal with family or friends. As a child, it meant we just had an event that merited candle-light and dining-room settings. The kitchen would be filled with the bustling of dishes being rinsed and loaded, and the banter and laughter of family. My brother and I would spy from other rooms, darker rooms where we could disappear as kids, watching and playing and avoiding the adults as much as we were fascinated by them.
To this day, the smell of a blown-out candle inspires a giddy little thrill. Mostly, it reminds me of my Uncle Roberto, who would often be present at those rare evenings when we brought out the fine china and assembled in the formal dining room. (Usually we ate around the small kitchen table.) Dinner was a chance to listen in to adult talk, and to occasionally hear a conversation in Tagalog – a rare treat for us – but really it was just a waiting period before slipping under the table and ultimately escaping between the cherry legs of chairs. Sometimes we thought the adults didn’t notice us, sometimes we knew they did, sometimes we’d get yelled at, and sometimes we got out without reprimand. It was a tenuous, tacit agreement between us kids and the adults, strained at times, but not wholly without fun and childish amusement.
These days we have a different kind of fun, and my niece and nephew are the ones who hide under the table. I’m the adult Uncle, more concerned with grown-up conversation than disappearing into the imagined world of a kid, but every now and then I’ll excuse myself, answering the pleas of Noah or Emi to play chase, and suddenly I’ll be back three decades ago.
01
April
2014
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April
2014
An Almost-Full-Frontal Shoot to Appease
All right, apologies for that awful April Fool’s joke in the previous post. To make up for it, here’s a practically-full-frontal look at my junk (which most people have seen through careful perusing of the Archives here anyway.) What a difference a few cotton fibers make, but what is the real difference anyway? Long have I battled with the notion of exposure, over-exposure, and under-exposure, but why does it really matter? We’re all born naked, and underneath our clothes we’re all still naked. Deal with it.
From the moment I mooned a car at the Dan Dee Donuts as a seven-year-old (to the horror and amusement of my brother) I’ve never had a hang-up with nudity. Clearly, that continues to this day, even if the moonings go worldwide.
01
April
2014
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April
2014
Finally, A Full-Frontal Shot
Some of you have been waiting a very long time for this, and since it’s spring and I’m feeling generous, let’s just do it and get it over with. Like some pesky albatross of virginity, I’ve actually popped my full-frontal cherry years ago, but most of you weren’t around to witness the explosion. This time around a few more people are watching, so without further ado, here’s the big reveal:
Well, first a little teasing. Beating around the proverbial bush, so to speak…
And now to the full-frontal assault on your senses…
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Baby it ain’t over til it’s over…
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Wait, you didn’t think it would be my full-frontal shot, did you?
Happy First of April, suckas!
31
March
2014
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March
2014
Harry Judd, Naked For Real
In celebration of Attitude’s 20th Anniversary, Harry Judd gets naked for their cover, and it’s a doozy of a photo spread, so to speak. Mr. Judd has been nude here before, and no one complained then, so here he is again. That ass just won’t quit.
Previous Harry Judd Posts:
First Hunk of the Day Appearance
Second Hunk of the Day Crowning
31
March
2014
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March
2014
A Message Directly from Madonna
“Laughing at all the haters out there who spend their energy trying to limit and label me with their prejudices and fears! Take your evil tongue and eye and turn them into birds that fly! Don’t waste precious time. Spend it on things you love!” ~ Madonna
31
March
2014
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March
2014
Out Like A Lamb: A Recap
The time has come for March to depart, and not a moment too soon. This is not a complaint – March has been, for the most part, pretty damn good to me, laying the groundwork for some major changes – mostly good – to kick-start the rest of this spring. More on that a little later. For now, this recap of the eventful last week of the month that came in like a lion and will hopefully exit as softly as a lamb.
We started off with a few Cocks in Socks. Will there be a Part 2 with my own junk front and center? Wait & see…
It turned out that everyone has a ‘Punky Brewster’ memory.
A British ass menagerie featuring Ben Cohen, Harry Judd, and Tom Daley.
I’m just a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of guy. NOT.
Say a little prayer. Or a lot of them
Our shirtless American hero, prepping for the Winter Festival.
This woman brings out the beast in me.
A pair of birthdays on the same day ~ here and here.
Some were like lions, some were like lambs – all were hunky, including Kevin Selby, Mahershala Ali, Olly Barkley, Kirill Dowidoff, Adam Coussins, and Lenny Kravitz.
30
March
2014
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March
2014
30
March
2014
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March
2014
The Things I Do For My Niece & Nephew
The first sign was disturbing: “Socks must be worn at all times.” Where in the hell were we headed, I wondered with sudden trepidation. Upon opening the doors to the Tree Paad (I don’t understand, or want to understand, the additional ‘A’ in the name) I was greeted with the unmistakable odor of, well, socks. The second thing that hit me was the noise. The noise, noise, NOISE!!! Fighting such decidedly Grinch-like feelings, I took a deep breath of socks and questionable pizza, and headed into the swirling vortex of children.
Packs of kids roamed the expansive fluorescent-lit space like roving bands of wild animals. Shouts and screams and flashing lights surrounded me. It was like ‘The Lord of the Flies’ without the order and structure. I honestly didn’t realize that many children actually existed in the world.
As I was about to settle into a sarcastic revelry and cutting social commentary, I walked over to the bottom of the slides, where Emi and Noah were playing with their cousins. Kids were flying out onto the safety mats, giggling and running back up to do it again. Suddenly, I remembered what it was like to be a kid at a birthday party – the initial shyness and slow indoctrination into the social scene, then the relaxing into the event, and finally the enjoyment and fun and adventure.
Both Emi and Noah were excited and talking with their friends, and then everyone bounced around in a bouncy house before convening in a room for pizza and cake.
As they blew out the candles on their fourth birthday cakes, the magic of childhood drifted across the room on a cloud of smoke.
30
March
2014
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March
2014
A Birthday Double-header
On this day four years ago, a baby boy and a baby girl entered our family and changed our world for the better. Today is the birthday of my niece and nephew. I still remember the slightly rainy day on which they were born. (It was further proof that rain is lucky.) I’d worn a bow tie to work in celebration, but the moment I saw them bound tightly in their blankets, all fashion concerns faded, and my focus shifted to something more important.
In the ensuing four years, they have grown and grown, and so have the people they have touched. Everyone always said that once I got to know kids that were directly related to me, who had a connection to my life, my reticent disdain for children would disappear. I’m happy to report that I remain equally unexcited by children, for the most part, and these two gleaming exceptions prove the rule.
They are the wonder and light of our world, bounding around from new experience to new experience, revealing the simplest joys in a day, and reminding me that the most important thing we can give to each other is love.
They’re also a reminder of the ever-quickening march of time. Four years has passed in a flash, and we speed ahead leaving the baby days behind. I want to slow it down, to savor each moment with them. They’re probably too big to be pulled in their Radio Flyer red wagon anymore – one of my favorite things to do with them – but now they can walk around the block by my side. It won’t be the same, but it will still be good.
As I watch them navigate their way through the world, I realize that they’e not the only ones still growing up.
Happy Birthday, Noah and Emi! Your uncles love you.
29
March
2014
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March
2014
Bountiful of Beauty, Pure of Peace
O Beautiful Place By The Sea… How my heart longs to be with thee… Clearly I’ve read too many Shakespeare sonnets of late, but the sentiment is true: I wish to return to Ogunquit. Our annual spring trip is a couple of months away still, so I’ll have to pine for a few more weeks, but that glorious shore is within mental sight, and I can almost taste the lobster on my tongue, the salty sea spray in the air. Cries of seagulls echo in my head, and the clanging of a flagpole in the gusty shore breeze sounds happy memories.
This will mark our 14th year of visiting the gorgeous Maine shoreline, where we have always found a sense of peace and calm. I used to think it was just the fact of being on vacation and out of work, with no schedule and an open few days of freedom and unstructured casual living, that caused such a euphoric state, but after all this time it’s clear that something else is at work. If it were only that, we’d find such joy every weekend, and the simple fact is that no other place in the world conjures what Ogunquit can.
29
March
2014
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March
2014
Treacherous Emotional Thaw
It happens much the same way – the transition from winter to spring, that certain smell in the night air, the warmth on the night wind, the heart-rending churning of emotional mayhem that the arrival of the season of birth invariably brings. To that end, no one embodies such dramatic angst better than Madonna. Underneath all the hype and hoopla, the sexiness and showbiz pizzazz, I always sensed the wounded hurt of a lonely heart. It takes one to know one. In the span of the few minutes of a song, she could zone in on the basic longing and yearning for love that most of us have come to know and want at some point.
It’s there in the watery brilliance of the ‘Ray of Light‘ album. From the first (and deepest) cut ‘Drowned World/Substitute for Love‘, to the brutal memory-tripping of ‘Little Star‘ and ‘To Have and Not To Hold‘ – and the farewell implicit in ‘The Power of Good-Bye‘ it rings of loss and hope.
It’s there on the cusp of adolescence, in the tender final days of boyhood innocence, in the desperate want of ‘Crazy For You.’
It’s there in the eclipse-crescents of shadows beneath the leafy boughs hanging over my first year at Brandeis University, and the gentle melancholy of ‘I’ll Remember.’
It’s there in the beautiful brutality and spiritual transcendence of ‘Like A Prayer.’
And it’s there in the mysterious dim beauty of the ‘X-Static Process‘ of love.
The ache of the coming spring. The death of another winter. The power of a pop song.
28
March
2014
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March
2014
Captain Chris, Shirtless American Hero
In preparation for the upcoming ‘Captain America: The Winter Festival Soldier’, I’ve been advised by my accompaniment Skip to see the first film – ‘Captain America: The First Avenger.’ Both star the gentleman seen to such fine effect here: Chris Evans. He’s been featured a number of times in these parts, mostly due to his penchant for shirtless scenes and photo shoots (a happy custom that became so common that his publicist or manager started to shut them down – BOO!) He can be seen in action pulling down his pants in one of the greatest GIFs ever here, or in shirtless stills here, or naked butt for a towel here.
At any rate, here are a few taken before the shirtless embargo.
28
March
2014
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March
2014
Ring Around the Rosary
The rope of beads wound around my grandmother’s wrinkled hand, while the cross swung with the gentle rocking of her chair. She worried each one between her fingers as she said each prayer, then moved on to the next. It seemed an endless chain of recitation to my childish mind, but I assumed it was another adult mystery that would be revealed in time. I didn’t know that there was no answer for this, no magic moment that suddenly made sense of faith and religion. Instead, I did my best to believe, even if the drudgery of saying an entire rosary was beyond my comprehension or capability.
The ritual seemed to calm her. Maybe that was how it worked. It was a form of meditation, and, when you get right down to it, what else is prayer at its most basic essence? The words eventually ran into one another, the meaning but gleaned, and by that point it was simply a matter of a mantra, a chant, a rhythm of speech, a cadence of sounds. The calm and soothing drone of a river of words ~ whispered prayers ~ and an outwardly peaceful disposition belying a raging heart.
27
March
2014
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March
2014
The Man in the Mirror
I’m gonna make a change for once in my life
It’s gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference, gonna make it right
As I turned up the collar on my favorite winter coat, this wind is blowing my mind
I see the kids in the street with not enough to eat,
Who am I to be blind, pretending not to see their needs?
A good song will withstand any number of renditions – a great one can become something so much more when given a treatment like this. Listen to Michael Henry and Justin Robinett lift Michael’s Jackson’s classic ‘Man in the Mirror’ to an even higher plane. Minus production pyrotechnics, special effects, or fancy costumes or choreography, these gentlemen sell the song from a simpler place of musical purity, from the very origin of its message.Â
This song reminds me of the very end of winter and the start of spring – in other words, this very time of the year, when dirty snow and roads are just giving way to cleansing rains and warmer days.
I’m starting with the man in the mirror
I’m asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and make a change.
Back in 1988, I wasn’t anywhere close to becoming a man – some days I still wonder – but I took this song’s message to heart. Granted, it was at key and selective moments, and it would take years before any real sense of love for my fellow human beings was born, and some days it’s still difficult to access that. You see, you have to start with yourself first, and that’s always been the hardest part.
I’ve been a victim of a selfish kind of love
It’s time that I realized
That there are some with no home, not a nickel to loan
Could it be really me pretending that they’re not all alone?
A willow deeply scarred
Somebody’s broken heart
And a washed out dream…
They follow the path of the wind you see
Cause they’ve got no place to be that’s why I’m starting with me.
At the end of every winter, when I was typically at my darkest, mood-wise, I would revisit this song, trying to remember what was really important, trying to do something that mattered, something that was bigger than my small self. As the years passed, it grew in resonance, as I grew up. In ways, I would need to become more selfish before I learned what it was to be generous, I’d have to become mean and cruel before I could become kind. Throughout it all, though, this song put me back on track whenever I stopped to truly listen to it.
Set-backs came at regular intervals, as they do in anyone’s life, and there were moments when I was battered, bruised, and not believed. That was difficult to accept. And when you live as bluntly and honestly as I do, you tend to get a reputation for being cutting and cruel when it’s not always warranted. It’s hard to pull yourself out of that pigeonhole – well, that’s not accurate – it’s hard for others not to see you in that pigeonhole – I never had a problem moving on to a better place. Others usually had a problem seeing me move on, because it was easier for them to keep me trapped like that, to believe that I could not be capable of growth or compassion or even love.
I’m starting with the man in the mirror
I’m asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and make a change.
There’s no way I’m anywhere near finishing this work. I’m not even close to being the good person I most wish I could be – that kind and caring and generous and non-judgmental guy that on my best days I only barely approach. But slowly, I’m getting closer. And on the day that I get there, I am certain that I’ll still not be satisfied, which is as it should be. Several words appear as goals now:
Grace. Serenity. Transcendence. Freedom.
I need not mention Truth, for that has always been on my side, an integral part of my world, as problematic as it might be for some to handle. I need not mention Loyalty either.
You can say a great many things about me – many unflattering and unkind things that may be accurate – but you cannot claim the least bit of a lack of self-awareness. I am the most honest, the most harsh, and the most glaringly unforgiving with myself. You can never be as honest with me as I have been with myself. That’s not self-delusional, and it’s not self-denial. I know the man in the mirror. I know he has to change. And I know he can.
