What am I not seeing here? This is supposedly some sort of ‘stereogram’, which, if you stare at long enough, reveals some initially-hidden 3-D image. My eyes are too shot with old age and trauma to see anything than what’s on the surface – and that just barely.
What do you see? What am I missing? Is this a robot? Am I a robot?
Cue the existential crisis.
Writers make the best dazzlers, because they do most of my work for me. Case in point is Matt Baume, who earns his first Dazzler of the Day thanks to a body of work that includes ‘Defining Marriage’ and his latest ‘Hi Honey, I’m Homo!’ But in the words of LeVar Burton, you don’t have to take my word for it. Here’s an excerpt from his enchanting website:
Matt Baume is a writer, podcaster, and video-maker based in Seattle whose work focuses on pop culture and queer history.
His latest book, Hi Honey, I’m Homo!, traces the evolution of LGBTQ+ characters on American sitcoms. His previous book, Defining Marriage, chronicles the personal stories of people who fought for marriage equality over the last forty years.
In his popular YouTube series, Matt shares behind-the-scenes stories about the movies and TV shows that changed the world, and the fascinating people involved. He’s also the creator of the podcast The Sewers of Paris, which explores the entertainment that has shaped the lives of queer people.
A GLAAD award nominee for journalism, Matt’s work has been recognized by the New York Times as “thoughtful and thorough … informative and funny.”
After Matt appeared as a pop culture critic in the Showgirls documentary You Don’t Nomi, Forbes called his observations on the film “potentially intriguing,” which he chooses to interpret as a complement.
Matt has guested on such shows as The Savage Lovecast, Out Chicago, Tomefoolery, No Safeword, and Feast of Fun; he’s delivered presentations on LGBTQ+ culture for employee groups at companies that include Expedia, Sony, Roblox, EA, and more. He’s appeared on panels at South by Southwest, Emerald City Comicon, PAX West, GaymerX, HavenCon, and the National Gay and Lesbian Journalists Association.
You can find Matt’s past reporting in outlets that include Rolling Stone, Vice Magazine, Slate, The Advocate, The Stranger, and NPR.
The term ‘musical prodigy’ probably gets thrown around more than it merits, but in the case of Julian Abramo it is absolutely fitting, and still just barely captures his reservoir of talent and creative drive. At just 14 years old, he’s already released an album of original music (the glorious ‘My Bedroom‘ which somehow manages to transcend his short collection of years on this earth in scope and resonance) and started a website to capture his work.
I’ve had the privilege of knowing Julian since he was born, and watching him grow into a young person from a distance (and periodic summer visits) has been a joy. It’s also been an eye-opening experience where I continue to be impressed and astounded by how he lives so completely within the realm of music – playing, composing, listening and writing all flow from his creative vision. Such artistry is beautifully embodied by his first collection of songs, which finds his original compositions performed entirely by himself on piano, keyboard, and cello ~ even employing an old organ for one piece.
Such talent may be genetic, as he comes from two musically-gifted professors: my friends Missy and Joe. We go back many years, and lifelong friends are the best kind of friends. While they have focused on the academic aspects of music, Julian has thus far expressed his talents through performance and composition. It’s been apparent and a part of his life since before he started walking. I remember his parents telling me about how he was responding to sound and creating sound – with tapping and singing – and as he got older and better able to express himself, that inner call to a life of music got louder.
From a very young age, Julian was performing and involved in music in ways that most adults would find challenging. Having seen firsthand how he can take a piece of music and elevate it beyond what it was, I remain in awe of his musical prowess, and the way he hears things that so many of us simply can’t. The hidden talent of many amazing musicians is the ability to listen – it’s more than just hearing a song over and over; it’s absorbing and taking in a very specific and particular cadence of notes and sounds, of aurally sensing the texture and architecture of a piece, of feeling the intent and emotion behind a musical work. More than that, it’s about how to craft a work in a world where everyone thinks we’ve heard it all before. Just when you are being lulled into the languid piano meanderings of ‘A good day’, the dissonant chords of ‘I’m bored so I watch the sunrise’ creep in to challenge and lend tension to the proceedings.
‘My Bedroom’ has many such moments, conveying the undulating moods of life through a fourteen-year-old’s windows and walls, somehow capturing what he feels and hears and sees, then transmitting them through musical ruminations both beautiful and moving. Each song becomes something meaningful in myriad ways to different listeners, which is the wonder and magic of well-crafted music.
Julian’s own notes on the tracks of ‘My Bedroom’ are below. Listen/stream the album here, and check out all of his media links here.
1. walking outside
This piece is great to kick off the album. It creates a happy, exciting, and friendly feel. It feels welcoming and sweet. The peaceful energy to this piece makes it feel as if you are walking outside on a green day. As exciting and complex as this piece sounds, it only uses one instrument, the Cello. Played by pizzicato, staccato rhythms, and legato melody and harmony lines, the cello can create a wonderful piece alone.2. a good day
Similar to the previous piece, this one has a happy, and bright feel to it. It gives off a positive energy. The rhythmic, major piano lines give this piece energy and enthusiasm. The higher, more lighter parts give this piece character, in a way to show how it is important to appreciate the good days we have, because you never know when, or how much we get them.3. pure city
There is nothing like a wonderful day in the city. Seeing all different kinds of people, looking at amazing buildings, and so much more. There is something in the air. Something pure, and loveful. This piano
piece represents the pureful, peaceful air in the city.4. i’m bored so i watch the sunrise
Boredom is something that can be extremely frustrating. Not knowing what to do gets me all wound up. If I’m bored, and up early, sometimes I’ll look out my window next to my bed, and slowly watch the sunrise come to life. With patience and an open mind, it’s something so beautiful to see. The colors
slowly lighting as day starts once again. The birds come out and sing to one another. This piece represents the slow growth of the sunrise. It’s something to admire, and something to experience.5. saturday morning
Waking up on a weekend morning to a bright sun beaming through the windows is a relaxing thought. It’s just you, in your room, not having to go anywhere. There’s a loneliness to it, but in a positive way. This piece shows that feeling of being alone, peacefully.6. i wish to daydream
Stimulation around us can make us feel stressed, and overwhelmed. Sometimes, I wish that I could just stop, and take my mind elsewhere. In this piece, It makes you daydream, zone out, and think about your own thoughts that your brain takes you.7. our story
There are many different people you meet in your life. Some are good, some are bad. Some
are good at first, but then it goes downhill. Whatever it may be, you share a story with them. Whether it’s over, or it is still in the making, there’s always that story or memory with you and that person. For me, this piece represents a friendly, loving story. The far away piano makes me feel lonely, but also
happy. But that doesn’t matter. It is up to you to make it feel like your own story.8. my own party
It feels that life has a set of rules and expectations. Whether it may be how you dress, how much money you have, the color of your skin, who you love; the list goes on. It can be extremely hard to follow the rules. In this piece, I wanted to set up my own party, where I make the rules, not listening to anyone else. This piece gives a feeling of isolation, and dread. It shows how people can feel in today’s society.9. the past’s future
I saw an old pump organ in the corner of my grandma’s den, and I wanted to check it out. It was extremely out of tune, and it made a lot of creaks, but to me, that made it even better. After years of this instrument in silence, I brang it to life. The creaks, accidentals, and out of tune notes give this piece an old feel, but also very futuristic at the same time, almost like it’s the past’s future.10. a peaceful dream
Dreams are something so fascinating, and so unreal. No one knows what they really are. Dreams are always weird stories that never make sense. This piece creates a dreamy atmosphere, with the pitch bends, old style chord progressions, and nostalgia.11. a distant memory
Memories. A powerful and important thing we all have. It is what shapes the purpose of our lives. Whether negative or positive, there is always beautifulness in the memories we collect. However, sometimes our brains get fogged up. We end up losing the memories we wish we could get back. Sometimes these lost memories are still partly alive. We can still remember a piece of it, just enough to keep us holding onto it. These memories are a full story that is waiting to be told, or perhaps they’re missing pages in a book. This piece represents the distant memories we partly have.12. sunlight at midnight
Picture yourself alone in a huge cathedral with high ceilings that touch the sky. The beautiful artwork and architecture fills the room with magic. A stained glass window is shining in all different colors. In the front of the room, a huge choir is performing a peaceful, magical piece. Even though it is dark, the enchantment lights up the room. This piece is a great way to end the album in remembrance. I hope you enjoyed this album.
These tumultuous days of riotous weather, when the sky is moody and prone to unanticipated temper tantrums – crying and wailing and screaming and blowing – the following meme is a helpful reminder of the difference between a watch and a warning. Another way of remembering is that we like to watch, but we don’t like to be warned.
A nude bedroom selfie is usually all it takes to qualify as a Dazzler of the Day, but Cody Fern also has the acting chops and talent to more than justify it (though the thirst-trap is more than appreciated). One of the workhorses in Ryan Murphy’s consistently impressive stable of talent, Fern has appeared in many of his series, including several ‘American Horror Story‘ seasons and ‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story’. I once passed him on the street in Manhattan and I swear he did a double-take at my coat. At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe. As he has always been one of my fashion idols, that would be amazing.
The other evening Andy and I arrived home to these two rabbits engaged in a stare-down in the small patch of lawn next to our driveway. They didn’t bolt when we pulled in, too consumed with their focus to even move when I got out of the car and moved closer for these pics. I’ve always admired that sort of intensity, even if it feels slightly out of place with summer’s relaxed vibe. (Let’s not pretend I haven’t had my moments of summer intensity. Summer cuts both ways like that.)
As for this pair, they’ve been providing fun photo ops like this all season – and I think they may have produced a few ultra-adorable offspring that we are leaving to their own devices as long as they keep to the grass and weeds and leave the more cultivated plants alone. A dangerous bargain indeed, animals not outwardly conveying true honor or understanding of the deal, especially when night comes and we can’t scare them off.
Maybe one of them is the grown version of this little cutie. Circles among summer circles.
Remembered indelibly in these parts as the put-upon Natasha in ‘Sex and the City’ and an all-too-brief appearance in ‘And Just Like That’, Bridget Moynahan as Dazzler of the Day is a request of my friend Elizabeth, who often has divine taste in all things arts and entertainment. Moynahan got her start modeling extensively, and successfully segued into acting. She has appeared in films like ‘Coyote Ugly’, ‘The Sum of All Fears’, ‘John Wick’ and ‘John Wick; Chapter 2’, in addition to starring in the television series ‘Blue Bloods’.
The past week has been a rollercoaster of rain and sun, with some crazy storms forcing me to crack open ‘Un Jardin Apres La Mousson‘ – not an unpleasant fragrance for any summer day, but one that I usually reserve for when the atmosphere is questionable and moody. On with the weekly recap…
A frog or a toad, this is what husbands are for.
A Madonna celebration postponed.
An oopsie moment worthy of a Tiny Thread.
Words & notes & a naked booty.
Troye Sivan’s sexy ‘Rush’ for summer.
The cliffhanger of a cucamelon.
Meet me in the city with macarons.
A return to New York City with the help of some very dear friends.
Dazzlers of the Day include Christian Hull, Ryan Gosling, Janet Jackson and Olivia Rodrigo.
The dividing line between fans and non-fans of Olivia Rodrigo seems to meander along the wavering edge between older and younger people on my social media timelines. Those in the fandom have posted the following interesting figures:
For those reasons alone, she has easily earned this Dazzler of the Day.
A necessary evil to any Broadway show is the crush of crowds and people in Times Square. It has always been the bane of any NY visit, and when you have any degree of social anxiety, it requires a certain mindset and mental preparation, as well as a fortitude forged out of sheer will and desperation, to successfully navigate without a complete breakdown. When I was younger, I didn’t seem to mind as much, though part of that was being blithely and blissfully unaware of any anxiety issues – the discomfort I may have felt was just something I took in stride, a misunderstanding of my stress level as something that everyone felt.
On this evening, Chris and I took a car to meet Suzie, Tommy and Janet at the Mermaid Oyster Bar for a pre-theater dinner, followed by drinks (and pistachio ice cream for some of us) at the Chatwal Hotel lobby. This has long been a favorite escape from the madness of Times Square, a quiet and largely unfrequented place that has often served as a calm waiting room before or after a show. Mom and I have enjoyed many a cocktail here, and Andy and I also met up with Skip and Sherri after we took in separate matinees (‘Sunset Boulevard’ and ‘Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812’). All meetings here have been magical.
The main reason for this trip was to attend ‘Grey House’ which sounded like something different from the usual Broadway fare, and a darker indication of the times in which we live. I also harbored hopes that it would be as spooky and scary as the mysterious promos made it out to be. (Having been duped before by productions that claimed to be the most “emotionally terrifying” experience I would ever have – ‘A Doll’s House’ will never be that for me – I kept expectations low, and happily ‘Grey House’ surpassed them all. There’s way too much to dissect or digest here, but if you’re looking for a thought-provoking, tense, and somehow still fun evening of theatrical excitement, stop by this creepy abode.
It was a lot to take, and so we stopped for post-show drinks at the Bryant Hotel (which Chris had recommended, but apparently he was thinking of the Nomad) – it didn’t much matter – the place was quiet, dim, and offered an intimate chance to decompress following all the wickedness of the show. We walked Suzie back to her hotel – right near the Port Authority – and then decided to walk to rest of the way to our hotel – no small walk, for no spring chickens, but it was summer, and warm, and it rekindled more youthful days where walking dozens of NY blocks was a goal and end unto itself.
We passed through Hells’ Kitchen – apparently where the gay boys are these days – and paused at a couple of bars. We even poked our heads into one of them before deciding that a slice of pizza and the rest of the walk back would be more than enough entertainment for the remainder of the evening. It was already well past midnight, and it seemed best not to tempt any devilry that might find us out later than it was.
It had been an ideal, and gloriously brief, re-entry into NY and Broadway, healing whatever upsetting memories I’ve held since my last planned trip. It made me want to return again, which is more than what usually happens when I’m at the tail-end of a trip to the city. There was still magic here – maybe there always was and I simply hadn’t given it a chance to reveal itself. Maybe I was just grateful and glad to be alive in the city, spending time with friends, and realizing that however much life had knocked all of us about in the last four years, we could still reconvene and pick up where we left off.
“The soft rush of taxis by him, and laughter, laughters hoarse as a crow’s, incessant and loud, with the rumble of the subways underneath – and over all, the revolutions of light, the growings and recedings of light – light dividing like pearls – forming and reforming in glittering bars and circles and monstrous grotesque figures cut amazingly on the sky.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful and Damned’
“From the night into his high-walled room there came, persistently, that evanescent and dissolving sound – something the city was tossing up and calling back again, like a child playing with a ball. In Harlem, the Bronx, Gramercy Park, and along the water-fronts, in little parlors or on pebble-strewn, moon-flooded roofs, a thousand lovers were making this sound, crying little fragments of it into the air. All the city was playing with this sound out there in the blue summer dark, throwing it up and calling it back, promising that, in a little while, life would be beautiful as a story, promising happiness – and by that promise giving it. It gave love hope in its own survival. It could do no more.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful and Damned’
The last time I was scheduled to be in New York, our plans were derailed spectacularly as the COVID pandemic dawned upon the world the exact weekend we were due at the Plaza. Some PTSD remained as Suzie and I boarded the train for the city to see some old friends and a new play. I’d warned her and Chris that I was looking for a calm and quiet weekend – something that a brief foray into Times Square to get to the theater might prove difficult, but both were game for any potential social anxiety moments. Basically, I needed two of the people who make me feel the most safe to cushion this return to NY, even if a cushion wasn’t really needed in the end.
We arrived at the old Penn Station, disappointed that it hadn’t changed in the slightest, despite what we’d seen advertised about a new version, but in our ignorance we didn’t realize we just had to cross the street to find the bright and airy Moynihan Train Hall – and as Chris was just checking into the hotel, Suzie and I made an early lunch of fried chicken and fried pickles in one of the train station restaurants. There’s also a Magnolia Bakery and Ladurée cart for your dessert and macaron needs. (Andy would benefit from the latter on my way home.)
It helped that thanks to Chris we were staying near the Upper West Side, close to Central Park and away from the super-crowded masses. Suzie and I arrived to see our friend whom we had not seen since these Christmas festivities, and after a brief re-introduction we were back outside for a stroll through Central Park’s Shakespeare Garden.
Someone remarked that it’s strange how people come to the city just to find places that don’t feel like the city, and as we walked through the sunny highpoint of the day, past lilies and daisies and hollyhocks in full, resplendent bloom, it did feel like we had been taken completely out of the concrete jungle.
With rickety fences of gnarled wood and old-fashioned glades of flowers straight from an English countryside, the space was not only an antithesis of the city, but a throwback to another time. It was the respite that provided a way to enjoy New York on a summer day. Coupled with lifelong friends, it was a brush with the sublime, and more friends were on the way to add to the joy…
My recent trip to New York begins at the denouement, with this little box of macarons from Ladurée, brought back to my husband as a treat from the new Moynihan Rail Station. To find such beauty and deliciousness in the heart of a train station is wonder and whimsy and wildness when you least expect it (especially if you’d been entering New York through the old Penn Station for decades). This trip would mark my first time back since the winter of 2020 – right before the world imploded – and I wanted it, and needed it, to be quiet and uneventful.
Finding the quiet and uneventful in the madness that can be New York is a challenging quest in itself, yet somehow we always manage to locate such moments, sometimes conjuring them from will and wish and whim. This was a lovely trip and it feels finely fitting to tease it with this inviting post. Decadence is there for the taking, if you dare to take it, and if escape is to be found in a box of macarons, then let us have the macarons, every last one.
Our train departs tomorrow – get rest tonight, if you can… 
This is one of those superstars whose crowning as Dazzler of the Day is anticlimactic at best, (see also Dolly Parton, Beyoncé, and Madonna) and almost insulting at worst, since it pales in comparison to the body of work that she has amassed. Janet Jackson needs no introduction, and from her quiet beginnings as the Jackson 5’s baby sister to her current reign as untouchable pop goddess, she’s created a legacy that shows no signs of tarnishing. The album that means to most to me is probably ‘janet.’, coming out as it did during my senior year of high school when some of the most indelible memories of youth were being created. That means the album is celebrating its 30th anniversary this year, and ‘That’s the Way Love Goes’.
A couple of years ago our neighbor Ken gifted us with a bowl of cucamelons – a Mexican cucumber that has a tart, almost lime-like flavor. It was a zesty taste of summer – bright, refreshing, and new – and it came in the most adorable packaging I’ve ever seen in a cucumber. About two inches long and one inch wide, they were small in size and stature, and their skin looked exactly like that of a watermelon, giving the impression of baby watermelons (hence one of their common names, mouse melon). The effect was utterly enchanting, and I’m not one who is typically impressed by anything especially precious.
This year, I planted a large rectangular pot originally designated for tomatoes with about a dozen cucamelon seeds, hoping for a hefty harvest. They desire hot and sunny weather, and this season did not start off strong on either of those fronts. They sat in damp soil doing nothing for a couple of weeks. Only when I surrounded their support stakes with plastic wrap (as a preventative measure against a chipmunk or squirrel that had been digging there) and created a greenhouse effect did they begin taking off.
Lately, they’ve enjoyed the hot and humid weather we’ve been having in between thunderous rainstorms. We’ve been pampering them a bit, rolling their planter beneath the canopy whenever rain threatens as they are still in danger of rotting if the soil gets too waterlogged, then pushing it back out into the sun, where they can bake and grow. Right now they have just reached the top of the tomato fences, so I added four bamboo stakes to allow them additional height and support. It’s not the prettiest concoction, but it seems to be satisfying their preference for something to grab onto.
This past week, we witnessed the first bloom – a tiny little yellow flower that came with a bulbous base that will soon turn into the cucamelon if all goes well. Supposedly this will happen in seven to ten days from the time the bloom appears, which seems too good to be true. I’ll keep you posted on the progress ~ a cliffhanger the likes of which hasn’t been seen since ‘Dallas’ had the world asking, “Who shot J.R.?” Stay tuned… (and blessings and good health to anyone who is old enough to remember that reference).
The warnings came first, and Andy hastened to move our precious pot of cucamelons (which just had their very first bloom!) under the patio canopy. The wind came second – great shifts in the atmosphere barreling through the oak trees and pines in the distance. The approach of dark skies came third – like some ominous army quickly approaching, rumbles grew to thunderous claps. Finally, the rain fell – hard and heavy – ripping every last drop of moisture from the sky before throwing it all down onto the earth.
If my grandmother was still alive, she’d have exclaimed, “Heavens to Betsy!” upon the arrival of last night’s storm. It was on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be uttered if the astonishment of the deluge of rain reached an extreme level. As it is, Andy thinks I’m bonkers enough without bringing back sayings from my grandmother’s era, so I held it inside and merely texted it to my Mom.
The rain continued, and just as I was growing accustomed to its roar and the dim winter-like light level of the house, it abated – lightening its barrage as it lightened the sky. The storm was over as quickly as it came – I could have and perhaps should have slept right through it. Summer works its magic and tumult rather quickly. Blink and you’ll miss it.
