Candlelight in the Attic

Lately I’ve been pushing myself to stay up to midnight to get in the Wordle of the day before I fall asleep. On a streak now of 105, I’m half-terrified of missing one, and half wishing I end this streak so I won’t be staying up to midnight. The silly pressures of a day. The silly things we force upon ourselves. And so here I sit, ensconced in the attic, where I have a single candle burning and lending an element of coziness to counteract the chill of the air conditioning unit in the window. Writing around the midnight hour usually leaves much editing and revising for the following morning, but I’m not going to bother. It’s my blog and I’ll fuck shit up if I want to. Like ending a sentence with a proposition. Or starting a sentence with ‘like’ or… well, ‘or’. Yes, I shall leave this post alone, foibles and artistic license/abuse and all. 

Maybe I should do more writing like this, to show what really traverses the frayed connections my brain is barely capable of making these days and nights. I once shared my struggle with social anxiety with a friend and they expressed great appreciation and relief that someone so seemingly not anxious about things could be so debilitatingly afflicted. It dawned on me that maybe my image does in fact overshadow the reality of my limits. Revealing it doesn’t feel like giving something up as it once did. Quite the contrary – it feels emboldening, as if all those years of pretending might have actually coalesced into something genuine; I have in fact been able to build a belief in myself that might have been false at first but has since become real with a lot of behind-the-scenes work. 

If you were perched in one of the pine trees or maples outside the window, you would glimpse a light in the attic – part candle, part lap-top, part reflection – and you might wonder at what the occupant is doing up at such a late hour, even on a weekend in summer. I wonder too.

“How much good inside a day?
Depends how good you live ’em.
How much love inside a friend?
Depends how much you give ’em.”
Shel Silverstein, ‘A Light in the Attic’

On this night, in the spirit of the Zen-like series ‘Mad Men’, we shall close with a song to roll over the end-credits. It’s basic, it’s a cliche, it’s a classic, and it’s summer. It’s all surface and all deep, still water. It’s a secret and a revelation. When two people share all their hopes, all their dreams, all their love… 

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Dazzler of the Day: Samantha Parker

Realtors have to be the most seductive people on earth because their jobs and livelihoods depend upon winning people over. (Confession: I’ve fallen prey to their unintentional charm at least once.) Behind any successful seduction, however, a bit of genuine heart is required, as most of us eventually wise-up to the rest. Taking such care into finding homes for others, Samantha Parker earns her first Dazzler of the Day for putting her heart into her job, while expanding and searching for her own purpose in the city of Albany. 

What is most intriguing to me is her mission-without-a-mission-statement for an ongoing/upcoming/ever-evolving project she terms #TheHeartOfAlbany. “My heart has changed courses a couple of times,” she begins on the intro page, and my own heart thrills at someone who can be open and honest enough to acknowledge and face changes as they come, be they difficult or trying or initially-unwanted. The idea she is working on is in its incubation stages – and that’s always impressive for those of use who won’t try anything out publicly unless we are absolutely sure it will work. I admire that courage and audacity. If you’re looking for a home, or simply for some inspiration, spirit and sparkle, check out her website here along with her opening salvo for #TheHeartOfAlbany excerpted below. 

What is #TheHeartOfAlbany?

A project or a hobby? I don’t believe it will be anything earth-shattering. With the exception of daily journaling and the occasional social media posts, I don’t really write. So what is this? I tried something a few years back with #TheHeartOfAlbany that never really lifted off because I overthought it. Typical. “Analysis paralysis”, as my friend Eric Meissner would say. At that time, #TheHeartOfAlbany consisted of long form video interviews with the feel and style of who knows what. I had a vision a long time ago while majoring in communications at UAlbany that I would interview people for “the scoop” by asking poignant questions, digging deeper into understanding them so they’d share their soul. Much like Oprah, I have always admired her, (we would be besties). In my mind, that sounded good yet it didn’t happen that way in these videos. BTW – Shout out to Alejandro del Peral and Tom Nardacci. They rolled with me at my first attempts, they trusted me. People will say “yes” when you ask for help, especially when its to share their passion. Long form videos take a lot of time and resources, so the project soon became a hashtag of home sales in the area along with places I found interesting in my travels. Not at all what I envisioned it, however I didn’t want it to fade.

So here I am, a few years later trying not to overthink the #HeartOfAlbany + looking to bring it back somehow. Originally, the idea for this was to document local people doing amazing things in our area. “Change-makers” … people passionate about their craft, their work and highlight the impact they were making. I feel like I am being called to try this “thing” again, and heavily. Reflecting that it’s been a 3 years since “the world shut down” (to the day), there could be some correlation.

So, it’s 2023. What am I doing? What are others doing?

If you don’t know me, a vibrancy has always lived inside of me. I have gotten through sooo much in this life. Because of that I have an immense amount of love and compassion for others, have always been an uplifter, an encourager. My nicknames “perky Sam Parker” and “Sam Sparkle” were welcomed because I am mostly cheerful, I smile a lot. I walk into spaces to warm them. During the pandemic I would do FB Live videos with birthday wishes and reading daily excerpts from A Year of Positive Thinking by Cyndie Spiegel, just to spread optimism. To spread hope. Being around people brings life into every fiber of my being so you can imagine I was itching to break out of jail. I do my best to find silver-linings, it always gave me hope and always strengthened me.

So, as I look around at this city right now, in 2023, who is rebuilding this city after some darks days, weeks, months even years, post-apocalypse? I know there are a vast number of people who complain a lot. I am not talking to those people. I am asking if there are others that believe there is great opportunity here who are eager to see this city vibrant again? Are you wondering the same thing? Perhaps you are seeking more for our home too. Are people doing something to restore and/or keep their vibrancy and passion alive here too? If so, I need to find them. Talk to them. Maybe they never left. Maybe they did. Maybe they abandoned their ideas and gave up and are stagnant, or maybe like me they are finding their passion again. Someone out there must know though. I cannot be the only one craving more energy. #TheHeartOfAlbany may not make big waves or reach the masses, but if one story turns into two, two then turns into three… I would be so happy. I have no mission statement, just a heart. And if it leads me to a few more hearts who desire the same things, thats a huge win. Are you someone I should talk to? I am here for it.

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Where Water and Sun Collide

For some unfathomable reason, the sight of these Lysimachia Aurea (Golden Creeping Jenny) flowers always brings running water to mind. While they do love an abundance of water, and are often employed near streams and ponds and such, I’ve never had occasion to encounter them in such a setting. Yet whenever I see them they bring to mind the cooling sound of water. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking and an overactive imagination. Regardless of the why in my harried brain, I find them a refreshing sight. The foliage of these is less chartreuse than when the plant originally went in several years ago – re-seeding may have dulled the brightness of the foliage, though it still feels fresh. It’s possible that the sports revert to the duller green, emboldening the nursery to propagate rather than the poor home gardener such as myself.

In this case, I planted a few of these in potted plants several years ago; they trailed and escaped into the surrounding ground, and I let them remain there as it wasn’t an area I was tending to anyway. When they took off a bit, I increased the caretaking and watering, and did well enough to coax out some flowering. Here they stay, spreading a bit more, to the point where they may need to be contained at some point. Those are the good gardening problems to have. It’s so much easier to cut back and cut out than to repair or regrow. Except in the case of bamboo. Don’t get that started, unless it’s a clumping variety. (And I’m told that those aren’t as well-behaved as some literature would have one believe.)

 

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Dazzler of the Day: Brian Buzzini

For many gay males of a certain era (namely mine) the International Male and Undergear catalogs were our entryway into the world of gay erotica. Cloaked in often-campy and always-questionable fashion, it was the lack of clothing options – and underwear-forward photo shoots – that made these catalogs such a hit. Not gonna lie – I was there for the fashion too, and the true shame in my closet wasn’t my sexuality as much as the multitude of lace-up pirate shirts that once constituted the wardrobe, to say nothing of all the gauze… but I disdainfully digress.

One of those male models who personified International Male and the unattainable aspiration they were selling was Brian Buzzini. He will forever be embedded in my teenage fantasies, moodily staring out of those pages clad in a skimpy pair of black bikini briefs, as if he lived his life on the shore, just hanging out in his underwear – and that was most certainly the life for me. Today he looks just as chiseled, with the additional character that a couple of decades imbues into the best of the survivors (and those who have obviously taken care of themselves over the years). For that, he earns this Dazzler of the Day.

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My Old-School Summer Playlist

Summer is the best season for making musical memories – and when you align a certain period of time with a specific summer song, the memory is usually as salient as anything injured by lilac or peony. Fragrance gets all the glory when it comes to invoking memories, but a certain piece of music can be just as resonant. For this post, I’m recreating a playlist of the past, from some of my favorite summer songs. Not all of these came out in the sunny season, but that’s when I find myself playing them the most, so they have become my own set of summer songs. There is also no artistically-intentional sequence, for the most part, so if you’re looking for a deeper narrative you’ve got the wrong season. It’s summer; the living, and the listening, is supposed to be easy. I’ll only embed the first tune, and leave the rest for you to find and peruse on your own. I’m told Spotify is a great way to discover new music, so do what the cool kids do and go forth along that avenue (then teach me how to use it so I can follow). 

My classic summer playlist begins with one of the very few upbeat and happy Enya songs ever written, and it was part of a Crystal Light commercial that aired during my childhood. A very strong memory of sipping their iced tea while sucking on hard raspberry candies (the ones that came in a round little tin with pretty pictures of pink fruit on top) all while watching the NBC daytime line-up is what this song conjures for me – a stagnant but cool moment that would inform a lifetime of drama thanks to the inspirational mayhem found on ‘Days of Our Lives’, ‘Another World’ and ‘Santa Barbara’. 

Alan’s Classic Summer Playlist 
  1. Orinoco Flow – Enya
  2. Cherish – Madonna
  3. Love Will Never Do – Janet Jackson
  4. Rush, Rush – Paula Abdul
  5. Miss Chatelaine – k.d. lang
  6. Sanssouci – Rufus Wainwright
  7. It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over – Lenny Kravitz
  8. How We Used to Live – Saint Etienne
  9. Stars Are Blind – Paris Hilton
  10. I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) – Whitney Houston
  11. Alone – Heart
  12. Doesn’t Really Matter – Janet Jackson
  13. Turn Up the Radio – Madonna
  14. Human Nature – Michael Jackson
  15. Holding Back the Years – Simply Red
  16. Don’t Dream It’s Over – Crowded House
  17. Your Wildest Dreams – The Moody Blues
  18. Liquid Love – Madonna
  19. Don’t Say Your Love Is Killing Me – Erasure
  20. No One Is To Blame – Howard Jones
  21. This Used To Be My Playground – Madonna
  22. Playground Love – Air
  23. Wicked Game – Chris Isaak
  24. Summer Turns to High – R.E.M.
  25. Delta Dawn – Helen Reddy
  26. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered – Ella Fitzgerald version
  27. The Glory of Love – Peter Cetera
  28. Ray of Light – Madonna
  29. Something New Axwell & Ingrosso
  30. It Must Have Been Love – Roxette
  31. Where the Boys Are – Connie Francis
  32. Poses – Rufus Wainwright

Some of these songs go way back, and are only summer-like thanks to my own singular machinations of when I played them the most. You probably have your own summer songs – the ones that mean something only to you, and have come to embody the summers of your youth. That’s when music seems to matter most.

And so I play the music of my own summer youth, rekindling old memories and burning a few new ones. I’ve purposely left out more recent songs in service of future blog posts, and perhaps another summer playlist before the season is out. Maybe by then I’ll figure out this Spotify thing and enter the current decade…

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Dazzler of the Day: Zane Phillips

Hot off the heels of his appearance in last year’s ‘Fire Island’, Zane Phillips is making a Speedo-clad splash in the new ‘Glamorous’ (for anyone seeking a Samantha fix before her ‘And Just Like That’ return cameo). This marks the auspicious first crowning of Phillips as Dazzler of the Day, with more features like to come. 

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Pride (Sigh) Still Matters

When the Boston Red Sox chose to change their logo for June to incorporate the LGBTQ+ Progressive flag colors I was so enthused that I wrote a simple ‘Thank you’ on the FaceBook post which announced they had switched their profile pic. Almost immediately, that innocuous comment received a pair of middle-finger emojis from someone who never did answer whether they were meant for me, or the Red Sox (as we were both tagged in it). 

So if you’re pondering the matter of whether Pride Month is necessary, and whether it means anything anymore, I suggest you take a look at the comments section of almost any LGBTQ+-related social media post today. The world hasn’t changed all that much – they just don’t bother to hide the hate anymore. 

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The Marvelous Mandevilla

It’s no surprise that I’m not keen on doing what everyone else does. Call it a natural defiance, call it a contrariness, call it basic immaturity, I simply don’t like following the masses. That goes to my taste in plants as well. When we were kids, my brother and I got to pick out one plant for each summer planting season. He would also go for something basic but colorful – a marigold or snapdragon – while I would seek out the unknown ones which hadn’t bloomed yet – a portulaca one year and a dahlia another. While those are all pretty common now, my taste for the rare and not commonly-found items stayed with me, and for many years I tried things that weren’t well-known or widely available. That began to subside the older I got and the more reasonable I grew. These days, it’s not uncommon for me to celebrate the most mundane and common plants, appreciating them for all the reasons they became to popular in the first place. 

Case in point is this strikingly-vibrant mandevilla – a flowering tropical plant that is basically everywhere these days, and one which I have constantly avoided because of its ubiquity. 

I don’t know why I fought such beauty simply because it was so popular. Going against the grain comes with its own efforts and weariness, and when you’re resisting a thing of prettiness it all feels pretty pointless. Hence this pot of mandevilla, currently burning brightly against a cool blue backdrop. Fired up to handle the heat, it’s a powerhouse bloomer, and one which I am kicking myself for not employing until this year. Better late than never… burn, baby, burn.

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Second Night of Summer and Out-takes

This morning’s tour of the gardens was so comprehensive that it overflows into this post, with a couple of out-takes featuring Lychnis and the Japanese Aralia ‘Sun King’. Fuchsia and chartreuse will always be one of my favorite pairings. This electric combo exemplifies the summer season, with its bold and bright refusal to bow-down to something subdued. Some of us may wish for something calm, but summer is tricky in how she grants, and doesn’t grant, wishes. 

The second night of summer is one of those trickier spots to navigate. Still so new, but not quite as new as yesterday, the second night suffers a bit of the sophomore slump syndrome. Even my muse has admonished, ‘Don’t go for second best, baby!‘ and I always listen to her. Better yet is this song created expressly for this particular date. It screams summer in the most primal form, and still manages to retain an underlying calm, like all that still water at the bottom of a pool. 

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A Walk in the Summer Garden

The moment we have been waiting for since last year is at hand again: summer has arrived. My simple goal for the season is to make at least walk around our little yard each day, examining the gardens and marking each moment. With the daily rush of life, there have been times when I would simply go from home to office and back, without a step outside. That results in a confined, claustrophobic aspect to the day that isn’t always felt immediately, but eventually comes out in agitation and annoyance. Anything to avoid those ‘A’ words is a welcome effort at prevention. And so we walk…

The Japanese iris, which I’d brought back from years of neglect, is beginning a splendid show, a little earlier than usual but who could ever be mad about that?

A beach rose – Rosa rugosa – which I put in when our trips to Ogunquit fell by the wayside for a bit, reminds us of the sea – sweet memories of summer vacations and Maine visits and all of it lovely. 

Dangling their blooms like fiery skirts of celebration, these begonias lean over the lip of their pot to provide a stunning show. Hell’s bells indeed.

The evening primrose – Oenothera – is always indicative of the start of summer. They open their blooms at first daylight, then close them as evening approaches. It’s a charming trait, a brave one, to be so openly enamored of the sun. I admire the transparency of that sort of sun love. 

This pink version of the butterfly weed (Asclepias) was a volunteer, and I have no idea who or what brought it into the garden. Aptly named as it’s a favorite of butterflies, I decided to keep it, despite its propensity for seeding itself all over the place. We don’t slut shame anyone here

Our lace-cap hydrangea has just begun to reveal its lacy form. This one started off true-blue, but has shifted into the purple and pink realm. It’s been an interesting transformation, and over the past few years it’s produced varying shades of pink to blue. My preference for blue will require more coffee grounds from Andy to add to the soil, if I decide to so force the issue.

When the walk meanders into the shaded area of the garden, a discernible shift in atmosphere occurs – and a very welcome one. Without a strong showing of sun to fuel any bright flowers, the foliage demands an appreciation of form and architecture, and a more studied view of subtle coloring. A stand of the elegant Lady’s fern (Athyrium filix-femina) sways in the slightest breeze, evoking a calm and tranquility that the brighter sections of garden could never conjure. 

The wolf’s eye dogwood doubles its creamy bite with its faux flowers and variegated foliage. A tree that echoes itself is an exercise in beautiful vanity.

From the upper echelon of the garden to the ground, this bright little patch of sedum (I think) provides succulent form and hue, hot and spiky and spreading. 

The chartreuse blooms of the lady’s mantle (Alchemilla mollis) are a hazy bonus for a plant renowned for handsome foliage, and make for a much more interesting filler of bouquets than baby’s freaking breath. 

Ferns and foliage offer stunning shades of color, even if they are slightly subdued. Here the maidenhair fern reaches its fingers toward the Japanese painted fern, while a silvery hosta does its best to keep things calm and cool between them. 

For our final photo of this fun post, we have reached the front yard, where our hydrangeas are just beginning their performance. A soft pink in color (I gave up on making these blue years ago – there’s just not enough acid or coffee grounds to sustain it) this is the ‘Endless Summer’ variety that swept through garden centers and nurseries a while ago. Blooming on old and new wood, it usually guarantees a decent crop of flowers even for the shorter summers. Hopefully this will not be one of those… 

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Summer Wishes to Wind

One of the traditions that Andy brought into my life, and one that we have religiously employed for the past twenty three years, has been making a list of seasonal wishes burning them on the first day of a new season. Today we burned our summer wishes, lighting them in the garden and releasing them into the summer sky. To celebrate, I give you a second song for summer (following this morning’s bohemian entry). 

Are there still beautiful things?

The burning of the wishes offers a chance at assessment and aspiration, a chance to maybe manifest our dreams and hope into something that coalesces as a goal. We burn them to set them free as much as we burn them into our minds. The wrinkled carcass of ash soon scatters itself to the summer breeze – the rest is up to us. 

Sweet tea in the summerCross your heart, won’t tell no otherAnd though I can’t recall your faceI still got love for you

Do I believe our wishes turn into something tangible? Not at all. Do I believe they offer the opportunity for something wonderful? Absolutely. There are no fairy godmothers that appear in a puff of smoke and sparkle, granting wishes with a swish of a star-studded wand. There are, however, fairy godfathers who work tirelessly behind the scenes to make such magic happen, to make the summer matter. 

Please picture meIn the weedsBefore I learned civilityI used to scream ferociouslyAny time I wanted

Let our wings beat on then, blowing such wishes to the wind, manifesting their results in a different way, in a way we never imagined possible. Summer’s fireflies are all the magic we need. Make your wishes and blow…

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A Bohemian Summer Begins With Skinny Dipping

Taking the pressure off is a summer habit we learn from our very first summers free from school. Somehow, even with jobs that run year-round, some of us manage to maintain that idea of releasing the pressure in the summer months – the living being easy and everything. Even if it doesn’t involve vacations or beach-trips or even time off, there is a mood and atmosphere to summer that slows everything down. This season, I’m jumping on board and taking things a little easier here too – and that begins with a bohemian theme that is really just an excuse to be lazy and messy and unfocused – the best possible attitude to hold for summer. 

Doffing the swim trunks and skinny dipping is a bohemian rite of passage, and a fitting entry into the summer season. When you’ve been bound by pants and belts and shirts and ties since last summer, there is a fundamental freedom in gliding through the water completely unfettered. Summer unfurls in liberating fashion, recalling the heady glory of that last day of school. I remember walking home from a last day of fifth or sixth grade and throwing my pencils up in the air like some graduation commercial. 

Summer in these parts has always been coupled with music – and every first day of the season comes with a musical accompaniment. Here are a few of those songs and related posts:

Last summer it was ‘How We Used to Live‘ – a song that went back decades to a summer in Boston. Later that night, it was all about the ‘Summer Wine‘.

A virtual visit to ‘San Remo’ was the musical theme for the summer of 2021, along with an early salvo of  ‘Where the Boys Are‘. (The latter also closed out the summer in a slower format.)

In case anyone has forgotten the summer of 2020 (and my how we have all tried) it’s here in a song ~ ‘Vincent: Starry, Starry Night‘ – but it was the ‘Second Night Of Summer‘ that touched me more. 

June 2019 feels like a lifetime ago, and in many ways it was one of the last moments of innocence before we all understood what a deadly worldwide pandemic was really like – even if we didn’t want to know. The music was lighter, as were the blog posts, and I’m still looking for the way back there

Don’t Dream It’s Over‘ was the languid shuffler that kicked off the summer of 2018. When this music plays, summer memories are conjured – the certain cadence of musical notes as much a trigger of memory as scent and fragrance. Water hyacinths named by a poet, and the unnamed pain that summer sometimes wrought

Music and summer are a combustible pairing. Each feeds into the other, and it’s never ‘Too Much’ despite what the Spice Girls might say. The best way to save a summer day is to put it into a song. 

As for this summer and its bohemian spirit, I’m going to do my best to keep things relaxed and easy, taking the moments as they come, inhabiting each day whether it’s sunny or rainy or something infuriatingly in-between. Summer should be the least-serious season, and I’m just starting to celebrate that. Swimsuits off! 

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Dazzler of the Day: Chad Putman

Earlier this month, Chad Putman turned 48 years old and moved to San Juan, Puerto Rico in an effort to recharge and take advantage of a mid-life opportunity. I like that take on what others have traditionally dismissed as a mid-life crisis, and changing woe-is-me perspectives and feelings of powerlessness are two tenets of Putman’s latest endeavor. His website and mantra of Make Your It Happen is a treasure-trove of inspiration and aspiration, and Putman’s indefatigable spirit is gloriously infectious. That’s not to say he’s lost in the clouds and unaware of the reality of life – quite the opposite – he acknowledges and embraces those trying moments, turning them into lessons and signposts of when and how to change and evolve. He’s taken his years of experience and turned them into a hybrid that may have been his destiny all along, in the form of one triumphant triumvirate: Consultant, Coaching & Project Development. For all of that, Putman earns his first Dazzler of the Day crowning. Check out his website here, and follow the journey on his YouTube channel here

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Alive on the Verge of Summer

Norma Desmond may not be the ideal image of a human being aging gracefully, considering she ended up murdering a bloke when confronted with her own age and reality, but the woman who portrayed her so magnificently, Gloria Swanson, had quite a different story. Swanson turned her life after ‘Sunset Boulevard’ into one glorious adventure after another, and while she never matched the once-in-a-lifetime frisson of her portrayal of Ms. Desmond, she went on to live quite a happily-ever-after, and so we take a page out of her 1972 book to revisit these wonderful photographs by Allan Warren (a fuller set of which may be found on Trey Speegle’s exquisite website here). They form the inspirational kick-off for my summer wardrobe, and since caftans forgive the most devilish of middle-age paunches I’m running with it. Aside from the free-flowing form, however, I’m transfixed by the colors – both of her outfit and the surrounding green of her Fifth Avenue apartment. 

The idea of summer in New York City has fascinated me, and as much as I attempted to avoid it, there would invariably come a moment when I had to be in the city for something in the middle of summer, and I always wondered how the locals did it for the entire season. When the heat got into absolutely every stationary thing – sidewalk, street, cement, building, subway station, stairwell, and entryway – I wondered how anyone kept their cool. For someone like Ms. Swanson, it appears she stayed chill by keeping her wardrobe vibrant and alive. That brings us to a song from the 1970 musical ‘Applause’ which was a loose musical adaptation of ‘All About Eve’. Flashes of brilliance from the black-and-white past lend a summer sparkle to this last post of spring. 

Like Lauren Bacall, who starred in ‘Applause’, Swanson was a show-business survivor. These photos were reportedly taken in her apartment at 4 AM after she finished a performance in one of her shows. I’ve seen an interview where she recalls getting her second wind at 11 PM. As someone who’s typically in bed at that time after sleeping through his first wind, I’m struck by the drive it takes to make one a star, and how that drive never really goes away for some people. 

I’m also struck by the idea of a New York City apartment in the 1970’s – this one looks like a quieter cousin of the one held by Diana Vreeland, so boldly soaked in red, red, RED. It conjures the notion of creating little floating hubs of beauty in the midst of a city besieged by heat and humidity and the general stickiness of summer. 

Such colorful fabulousness is a much-appreciated jolt in a season that hasn’t given us many hints of warmth in the last few weeks. Perhaps this post will change that as we turn the page to summer proper.

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My Eyes Said STFU

All I wanted to do was pick up a Father’s Day card and get home out of the rain, so I zipped into the Rite Aid parking lot and searched the card stock. While there, I got sidetracked by the nail polish, but thought better of it. As I was checking out, the tapping of my credit card wasn’t good enough, so I slid it into the reader, but that wasn’t working either. The teenybopper cashier peered over the counter. 

CASHIER: Oh, flip it.

ME: And reverse it?

CASHIER: Hey! That’s one of my Mom’s favorite songs!

MY INNER VOICE: Shut the fuck up.

MY OUTER VOICE: And that’s how old I am!

CASHIER: Oh I like all the old jams.

MY EYES: Seriously, shut the fuck up.

It’s getting more and more difficult not to choose violence these days. 

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