Halloween is my day off. When you’ve spent a lifetime wearing outlandish outfits on a regular basis, there’s no big thrill in doing it when everyone is trying to do the same. Let the amateurs have their hour, I say. (Don a cape at Price Chopper on a Tuesday afternoon in September then come talk to me.) That said, I once enjoyed this quasi-holiday as much as the next kid, and there were a number of notable costumes I wore that I recall to this very day.

As a younger child, I was very much into animals. Not in any twisted or sick bestiality type of way, but in a pure, innocent, adoring manner. I was a beaver one year (go ahead and make the joke, I’ll wait), a skunk another, and even a cheetah (probably my favorite, as it meant I got to wear a suit made entirely of leopard print).

As I got older, I grew out of the animal phase and into something, well, older. I was an old man one year (something I could do without much make-up today), and a devil the next (even less of a stretch). After that run, I was old enough to not care so much, and when I had to march in Halloween parades as part of the band, it lost all appeal, so I’d go to a stand-by cape and hat and call it a night. (Still my M.O. if I need to do anything on this evening.)

Today, I’m going to let the rest of you take center stage and shine with your elaborate get-ups, sexy/slutty/skin-baring strip-downs, and witty sight-gag ensembles. I’ll sit back and watch, enjoying the spectacle from afar. (Besides, I’ve got badder fish to fry and other outfits to plan for evenings far more important than tonight.)

On the eve before All Hallow’s Eve, the Hunk of the Day honor goes fittingly to shape-shifter and cosplayer extraordinaire Michael Hamm. Every now and then I think that if I’d had some sort of cosplay outlet as a kid, I wouldn’t be such a fucked-up adult – then I realize that we did have cosplay back then: it was called ‘Underoos.’ Thankfully, it’s here now as well, and if you’ve ever been to Comic-Con or one of the cosplay conventions, it’s a surreal, magical experience. Just the sort of escapism and fantasy we like to celebrate on this blog.

Mr. Hamm has an extensive arsenal of cosplay looks, and the body to back them all up. More importantly, he’s got a sense of humor, shot through with a wicked wit, and an endearingly self-deprecating attitude that makes him practically perfect. (Additional credit must also be given to Shaun Simpson, the photographer who so often manages to capture Mr. Hamm at his finest, including most of the photos seen here.)

Before I was a cosplayer, I was a fan artist. I would draw my favorite characters and sell the pieces at art auctions. But once I discovered cosplay, it was like, ‘I don’t have to draw my favorite characters, I can become my favorite characters. ~ Yaya Han

The week of Halloween dawns in cool, gray, rainy form, perfect for fall and fine for keeping rowdy costumed kids at bay. The last few days on the blog have found me in catch-up form, and we’re sell not up-to-date, but I like that. By the time this place gives hint as to where I am, I’ll already be gone. Better for would-be-burglars, and safer for safety purposes. Ho-hum, I’m boring myself… on with the weekly recap.

It was the anniversary of Madonna’s ‘Erotica’ album. I’ll give you love, I’ll hit you like a truck, I’ll give you love, I’ll teach you how to…

There was a rare second-crowning of a Hunk of the Day, with this post on Lance Parker.

It’s never too early for a Christmas gift wish list for those who like to plan ahead.

One of the more popular Hunks of the Day has got to be Philip Fusco, who will likely receive his double-crowning any day now.

There’s nothing more inspiring than an artist who is also a gentleman. Unless he is also a Hunk like THomas Wolski.

This was also the week that I finally chronicled our Columbus Day weekend in Ogunquit, such as it was. It began so well, but quickly crashed as my back went down. All because of a few flowers.

There was a last bit of beauty, though, to salvage all in a moment by the sea.

Believe it or not, it’s not always about Madonna and men.

Although, Nick Jonas got all shirtless again, talking bulges and sex scenes and further endearing himself to the gay community, so maybe it is about the men.

Aside from the Hunk of the Day and Madonna, the content of this blog is as variable as Renee Zellweger’s face. If you’re looking for consistency, look elsewhere. If you’re looking for the tried and true, try somewhere different. But if you’re looking for something that holds the possibility of the unexpected, even in this late day of my life (when I just discovered I need bifocals) get on board and hold on tight.

We are multifaceted creatures, layered like the proverbial rings of an onion. We do not lend ourselves to such convenient categorization, at least I don’t. One of the chief criticisms of this blog is that it veers so wildly between topics as varied as my affection for my niece and nephew to the dare-to-bare antics of shirtless (and often pants-less) men. As if to be a doting Uncle precluded being anything other. As if it wasn’t possible to appreciate the beauty of the naked human form and the floral form simultaneously. As if we were bound to be one thing and one thing only. Pish posh on such nonsense. Who can afford to be so limited? And who would want to be? If you’re that one-dimensional and narrow-minded, this is not the place for you, and you will find nothing but infuriation here. (And chances are I’ll thrill in giving it to you, because sometimes I’m just an insufferable prick.)

Anyway, the point of this post is to highlight a few off-the-beaten-path posts that hopefully show off the fact that this blog is more than just Madonna and men. Two very important topics, of course, but it’s good to get a little variety in your online diet. With that said, a sampling of the winding valley farm this story has become:

A letter to my niece and nephew. 

A smoke to be made sacred.

A wish on the moon.

A failure of narcissism.

A toothpick in the rain.

A stalker’s summer scene.

A pot to piss in.

A necessary evil.

A suitcase of scarves.

A pearl necklace.

A lesson learned.

A poem remembered.

A WalMart midnight.

A few shelves…

And a cozy va-jay-jay.