Category Archives: General

The final third of the year is when things get cozy and cold, the wondrous juxtaposition of a Northeastern fall and winter. This year Mother Nature was making up for her horrid opening, extending the warmth dizzyingly into the very start of snow season. The plants won’t be grateful to her for this, but the rest of us are simply embracing it.

September 2015 – September traditionally meant the return of school, and shame. Those days are done.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour continued on its merry way, with a suite of Sunset posts that began with a pool, sparing into motion with a splash, and came down a staircase as if to the manner born.

Norma Desmond returned, one final time, for this last tour. Everything’s as if we never said goodbye.

It’s still a sin to kill a mockingbird.

And still, summer lingered. Still time for a Speedo.

Forty and… fabulous. Of course, it helps when you turn forty in the Judy Garland suite, and you get to smell like this, and wear something as ridiculous as this.

Upon reaching the age of forty, you show some (s)ass.

Birthday bedroom memories.

Portland, Maine.

A spectacular Tour Stop in Seattle, WA began with something verdant, something delicious, something pretty, and something sublime. It was a highlight of the Tour thus far, and I got to fulfill a lifelong dream of seeing the orcas. There was some shopping as well, and a stop at Snowqualmie Falls. All in all, it was a grand bit of touring.

Everybody needs an ally now and then.

October 2015 – This was the year I went blue. True blue.

Madonna’s ‘Ghosttown’ – recently chosen by Rolling Stone as the best song of the year.

Let’s spark joy!

Let’s get eclectic. And again.

Being on tour means being in hotels. It’s where I feel at home. And it’s where I get naked more often than not. Whether you like it or not. And absolutely no regrets.

Fantasy island, one and two.

Speedo mayhem. Again.

Quite possibly the best meal of the year. Thank you Suzie!

Not quite ready to fall.

Hotel moments.

Season of soups.

Until next year, Ogunquit. For now, the fall. And it burns. Still, it’s better than winter.

November 2015 – With November, along with the earlier nights, comes the promise of the holiday light. The promise of family gatherings. The search for warmth. The reassurance of love.

Dressing the twins up.

A bloody moon.

The blue hair stuck around.

I promised the twins a treasure hunt come the fall, and it arrived with a treasure map and more.

I received my first Troy Gua masterpiece, and it’s a beauty.

November means Something to Remember.

The not-so-dreaded F-word.

The best confessions ever.

The Tour Book continued to be posted online, but at this point a strange evolution occurred – both planned and spontaneous. After years of confusion, the smoke was starting to clear. The line between my real life and my artistic output was at last evident to me. Shh, don’t tell anyone just yet.

My wings are red, and they carry me above all.

I’m not a huge Adele fan, but I definitely dig this song.

I am well on my way to becoming a bear.

My virgin voyage.

The holidays approached, and a cartoonish existential question is resolved.

December 2015 – The shortest days of the year, and the time when holiday spirits burn brightly to counteract all the darkness. Also a time for getting together with family, no matter how difficult that may be.

I started off with the holiday spirit high and strong, decorating the Boston condo for the first time in well over a decade.

One reason why I get naked here (and the photos to prove it).

This was Outrageous!

Animal instinct.

The most controversial section of the Tour Book was posted with ‘Animal Demons’ Part I, but it was nothing compared with Part II. Not to mention the sex-pig posturing of Part III.

The Holiday Card 2015.

A murder in the park.

The ‘Animal Demons’ section of The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book was only three-fifths of the way done. Part IV found my protagonist wielding an axe, and exorcizing long-held bunny demons in extremely disturbing fashion in Part V. Even the aftermath was too hot for Instagram, FaceBook and Twitter.

Returning to seasonal fare, Kira and I embarked on a three-part Holiday Stroll in Boston. Part I, Part II, and Part III. There was also a new tradition: the Holiday Children’s Hour.

Merry Freaking Christmas, everyone.

The last Madonna Timeline of the year.

Perhaps my favorite portion of the year, this is when spring meets summer, and the days- when they are sunny and warm – are meant to be shared by the pool, on the beach, or in the chill of well-regulated air conditioning. Friends and family abound too, which makes it that much warmer.

May 2015 – A glorious month for so many reasons… I don’t even know where to begin.

A month for marathon kisses.

They’re still trying to ban my ass on FaceBook. (And failing!)

Frightening night.

I learned a lot from Winnie-the-Pooh.

I left a job with people I loved, and got a lovely send off. (Apparently they wanted me to smell this good, and I couldn’t love them more for it.)

Read it.

Keeping things tricky.

I got a lap dance by Hedda Lettuce.

My rose failure.

The fact remains: Josh Duggar is a child molester.

Pearls of wisdom.

June 2015 – The month that summer arrives in burst of sunny, bunny glory. All hail the season of the sun!

Night beauty in Boston.

Day beauty, too.

Ben Cohen beauty.

Hidden beauty.

Boston baseball.

Red Sox game with Skip. The whole length of it. And we almost made it back without incident – until the police showed up.

The twins graduated. From pre-school. It was epic. (And check out that bad-ass Noah taking charge of his ark!)

XXX(L).

Take A Bow.

The scent of beauty.

Suzie tried to prepare me for turning 40, by going first.

Lunch by Cher.

Emi likes my closet.

The growth of a season, blooming in sweet and spicy form.

Everything smells better in summer.

Marriage Equality for all the land.

Taming a monster.

July 2015 – Summer is a time for friends near and far, for those just visiting, and for those who linger a little longer.

It’s a time for heat, in all its forms.

It’s a time for stupidity.

It’s a time for wonderful words.

It’s even a time for a naked Justin Bieber. (Eww, and sorry.)

A big reveal. (Following a minor tease.)

Fit for a Queen.

I still want to smell like a London gentleman.

Summer survival.

Cars for Andy.

Inspiration by Vreeland.

Cheating destiny.

The boy was mine.

August 2015 – The month is which I was born, made extra special this year for a number of reasons. Starting off with the beginning of my very last tour… The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star.

It started with a bunny, had a proper Madonna preamble, and opened with an entrance. I learned from the best.

Beans! Beans! The special beans!

Wanting more summer tomorrows.

Planning for the day I turned 40.

Exorcizing bunny demons, finding ways of escape, and making new destinations.

Meet my new publicist!

Teaching my brother how not to be such a dick.

Tour Stop: Cape Cod.

Friends old and new.

Midnight radio.

Try some, eat one.

One of the best songs Madonna has ever written.

Just in time for my 40th birthday.

In my birthday suit.

When Iris eyes are smiling.

A rose in a cocktail.

Jockstrap vogue.

I’ve come to loathe ‘Year in Review’ posts, but some people absolutely love them, so I’m going to make a compromise. I will recap the year in the next three posts, but it’s going to be truncated, and the posts chosen to be highlighted will only be those that ‘spark joy’ for me. Deal? Good. (Like you had a choice.)

January 2015 – The year got off to a rather dismal start, with a winter snowfall that just kept coming. So much snow fell that I was unable to get to Boston for the first two months of the year. Luckily, there were other distractions and diversions, like men. And more men.

This book was scentsational. This fragrance was too.

I try to paint with words, even if I don’t always succeed.

The scent of snow, fitting for a year when there was an overabundance. And ice castles.

I didn’t know it then but this would be my last visit to Boston for a long stretch, thanks to all that snow.

To warm the stomach, this Tom Yum recipe.

This offer still stands. Be brave…

Get tricky. Very tricky. Super tricky. Ultra tricky.

An unhappy anniversary.

February 2015 – The snow continued, so we kept ourselves occupied with creative endeavors. One guy who does that better than anyone else I know is my pal Skip, who contributed the virgin ‘Special Guest Blog’ to the proceedings here.

A couple of favorite things: jockstraps and Madonna. And this Special Guest Blog by my friend Carl.

Speaking of Madonna, she came back with a roar, rose to the rafters, fell to the floor and got right back up.

Grey Vetiver by Tom Ford – the only guy who could get me into vetiver.

Male nudity.

Cheesy V-Day mix Side One.

Cheesy V-Day mix Side Two.

Suzie’s Special Guest Blog: Zords Combine!

The gorgeousness that is Winter Water.

A Madonna Timeline that told a secret I already revealed.

March 2015 – The snow still kept coming, and at this point people started to get a little crazy. When at least I was able to come back to Boston, I was one of them. Kira joined in the fun too. Hence the photos here, which are ridiculous but always make me giggle.

Another wonderful friend who makes my heart happy is Ann, who wrote this touching Special Guest Blog.

Andy Cohen kept things juicy and entertaining with these delicious Diaries.

Madonna released one of her best albums in years – ‘Rebel Heart’ – and it was as spectacular as expected.

My friend Joe wrote this Special Guest Blog which managed to be both academic and artfully scintillating.

The art of the jockstrap.

Family pain.

A return to Boston, at long last!

Josie/JoJo/JoAnn kept my heart warm with this endearing Special Guest Blog.

I finally forgave Taylor Swift for existing.

April 2015 – The snow finally started to go away, and with it any remaining vestiges of our sanity. April was a time for silly celebration, and the too-long-awaited return of spring – something that we started to doubt would ever come back.

The bunny bedlam was barely beginning.

Memories of my grandmother.

How is it possible that I still don’t have these amazing shoes? WTF?

Sometimes Madonna is simply gorgeous – in sound and sight and spirit.

A new favorite cocktail: the Campari Orange.

Speaking of oranges, a new favorite recipe. (Doing the dita.)

Subway self-examination.

When the night is cold…

My naked ass in the floating world.

Epic fragrance battle.

Zac Efron almost naked.

Girl crush.

Coming Next: Parts Two and Three of this ridiculousness. 

When the weather outside has yet to be frightful (and this is in no way a complaint, just a slight bit of consternation for the plants that may not recover when the real winter weather hits) one looks to false ice deities to signify the arrival of the frigid season. The Tiffany windows will have to suffice while we wait in a state of suspended disbelief. I can’t remember when it was this warm this late in the year.

Usually we get a thaw around mid-January – a brief break in the spell of freezing weather that sees fog rolling off the snow banks and gathering in strange pools of light beneath the street lamps at night. Such a thaw often messes with the mind, giving a tantalizing tease of spring, otherwise so far away.

This year there is nothing yet to thaw. I don’t know if that eases the mind, or leaves it more restless. The idea of what’s to come can be more gruesome than what is already at hand.

When next we recapitulate events, it will be in 2016, so technically this is the last recap of the year. There will be no recap-of-recaps – that’s what the Year in Review posts are for (and they begin on December 30, so get ready.) On with the end…

It began fittingly with a Holiday Children’s Hour (well, three-hours) gathering in Boston, which turned out to be one of the unexpected highlights in a season of disappointment.

Holiday decorating at its most opulent.

Cute Oxford boys tackle a holiday chestnut.

Annie Lennox celebrated a birthday, and the holiday.

I love a man who comes at midnight.

Merry Merry, quite contrary.

It’s hard to find Holiday-themed Hunks, but these gentlemen took off everything but their Santa’s hats and helped: Trystan Bull and Gavin Henson.

After the Big Man in the questionable red fur ensemble departs, a welcome lull in the action.

As we turn the corner onto another year, it’s the pocket of time when Norma Desmond made her confession to Joe Gillis.

The Madonna Timeline returned before the year ran out, and it was the polarizing ‘Bitch I’m Madonna.’

A couple more Hunks that had nothing to do with Christmas: Alex Barber and José Loreto.

She called to me the other day, from a dusty pile of CDs. ‘New Year’s Eve Sunset Music’ had been hastily scribbled on one of them, and I gave a small smile at memories of the Minskoff Theatre. This is the time of the year when I first met Norma Desmond. It was 1995, and I was at Tower Records, perusing the Broadway musicals section, as any good gay boy does, when the silver-hued Andrew Lloyd Webber double-CD with Glenn Close on the cover came before my eyes. I don’t know what propelled me to purchase it, but I recklessly did. A double-CD? For a musical I’d never heard? Based on a movie I’d never seen? I bought it on a hunch, but didn’t listen to it for a few days.

The first song that caught my ear remains my favorite of the piece: The Perfect Year. In that brief jewel of a moment, all of Norma’s hopes and dreams rest on the love of another, and at the end, when it’s apparent that her love is not returned, it’s a devastation most of us have felt at one time or another. For me, it was a devastation that had not quite come to pass, only in that there was nothing concrete to destroy. Still, I felt a kinship to her predicament.

I also fell under the spell of her glamourous trappings, her outsize and at-odds-with-reality distorted view of herself. I knew what it was like to fall victim to your own ego, particularly when it was developed as a protection device, a way of making one’s mark on a world that really didn’t care. Sometimes that belief carried you through and brought you to a better place. Sometimes it had the opposite effect. Either way, it could prove dangerous and volatile. When Joe Gillis and his broken-down car rolled into Norma’s driveway, he tripped the silken chord of her faded web and was soon wrapped up in the luxurious temptations she had to offer, and possibly a few of the charms she had left. Nothing is ever so black-and-white; we reside in a world of grays, of noirish shadows and hesitant hope. There was something between them, and even if it was a case of one using the other, that doesn’t diminish the fact that two people came together, for whatever reason, and had an impact on each other.

As for ‘Sunset Boulevard’ – it was the musical, and ‘The Perfect Year’ that first captured my heart, even though most will admit the original film is far greater in terms of artistry and lasting merit. I came around to seeing it in that winter of 1995, drawn into Gloria Swanson’s eccentric performance as Norma Desmond – the original faded actress playing a part eerily similar to her own life, even if she was nothing like Norma, particularly in her later years, when she remained a vital and exuberant artist. William Holden played Joe Gillis – the stoic straight man who kept the whole thing grounded in a sinister shade of cynicism. Who was using whom? All these years later, it’s still difficult to ascertain for sure, and that’s one of the gorgeous complexities of the film.

All I know is that Norma Desmond played a pivotal part in my coming of age. She wasn’t the greatest role model for a young man to have, she wasn’t an ideal heroine for anyone to aspire to be, but she gave me a delusional grandiosity that somehow saw me through a few dark times. It almost wrecked me too, to be truthful, but we both survived. In the end, when the world does its damnedest to destroy us, simply surviving can be a feat of epic grandeur.

After a weekend of The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book and its darker midsection, I decided to offer some relief to those of you not enamored by my crotch covered only in a devil’s mask. As such, my Holiday Stroll recap spilled into the usual Monday morning round-up of the previous week’s posts, so here we have that look-back now. And a little later, a recap of the Boston Holiday Children’s Hour.

Don’t just stand there, let’s get to it!

The wise words of Cher.

Roses in December – disturbing but no less pretty.

A vicious murder in Sparrow Park mars the seasonal joy.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book resumed in gruesome fashion.

The ‘Animal Demons’ section included pig masks and an ax. (Along with some ass seed.)

But that was nothing compared to the bunny-fucking. Now that is how you exorcize a scary Easter Bunny.

(And no, I didn’t really fuck that rabbit, no matter what it looked like.)

Holiday Hunks included Sage Northcutt, Sawyer Hartman, Jake Quickenden, and a pair of Ryas: Ryan Rose and Ryan Ball.

Best of all, however, was a three part Holiday Stroll with my friend Kira. Our annual event is going on its 4th or 5th year now, and this year was a doozy. It is probably one of the most fun holiday events I get to do. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 are all up now.

It is not my mode of thought that has caused my misfortunes, but the mode of thought of others. ~ Marquis de Sade 

Violence is a calm that disturbs you. ~ Jean Genet

Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature’s mandates. ~ Marquis de Sade 

It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure. ~ Marquis de Sade 

Read from a distant star, the majuscule script of our earthly existence would perhaps lead to the conclusion that the earth was the distinctively ascetic planet, a nook of disgruntled, arrogant creatures filled with a profound disgust with themselves, at the earth, at all life, who inflict as much pain on themselves as they possibly can out of pleasure in inflicting pain which is probably their only pleasure. ― Friedrich Nietzsche

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

Next Stop: STEAM PUNK BIRDCAGE

A door, burnt and frozen, and locked from the outside.

An axe, held aloft in nervous hands, unaware of impending blows.

A shadow, revealing more than the light.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour continues this weekend, and the Tour Book goes further down the rabbit hole. These are dark images, with dark themes, but there is a comedic edge to the proceedings as well. Delusions can be devilishly amusing once you embrace the fun-house ride notion of what is at hand. Hold on tight…

Shadow fiend, ephemeral foe, monster in the looking-glass – what terrors do you intend for yourself?

What terrors do you intend for others?

Whatever menace you may bring to the world, whatever horrors you may inflict, the only real destruction you can hope to achieve is the decay of your own heart.

It cannot and will not be achieved by the violence of a moment, the rage of a scream, or the wielding of an ax.

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

On a recent afternoon in Boston, the sun drifted into the bedroom, and the light was such that it allowed for some Madonna-inspired shadow puppetry. The fun part of these iPhone photos is that they were not filtered into black-and-white – these are color shots. On a white wall, and with gray shadows, one doesn’t need to alter with filters or photoshop. In a season of color-saturation, this gives a sense of ease to the eyes.

As we approach the Christmas/New Year holidays, I tend to seek out softer moments like this, pockets of quiet and simplicity. I almost – almost – wish for the sheer starkness of January. Not that I wish to rush through the fun and warmth of this season, I just long for a bit of peace in the midst of all the madness.

Until then, I’ll make-do with shadow boxing, diverting my attention with moments of whimsy, ephemeral bits of distraction, anything to avoid the hustle and bustle up into which everyone is getting swept. I will hold onto my shadows and let them do the work for me, scuttling off to get the last-minute gifts, to pick out a party outfit for the next event, to wish merry on family and friends, while I sneak off to parts unknown for peace and quiet.

The holiday rush is gleefully, or grinchingly, upon us, and it feels like if I don’t give in to the raging flow I’ll be left behind. I won’t pretend there’s not a little bit of panic to that, to the idea that I’m missing out on something. It’s the sort of thing that I imagine drug-abusers or gluttonous over-eaters might feel. Whatever the case, it’s time to pull back, slow down, pause and enjoy the moment. Here’s to the last week.

The happy week began with the naked ass of John Stamos. And when a nude John Stamos (at least a nude butt shot) hits the internet, it’s a promising start to the week.

The sparkle of the season requires a little extra oomph, in this case something Outrageous!

The double crowning of Lockhart Brownlie as Hunk of the Day was another happy event.

Silk and pink, a wondrous combination.

It was a week of double Hunk crownings, continuing with Steven Dehler.

Minus the bombast and bravado, the Holiday Card 2015 arrived without an axe to grin.

There’s no crying at Christmas, except when there is.

Rounding out the Hunks of the week were Rick Fisher and Phil Sullivan.

The big news was the continuation of posts for The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star, beginning with a little animal instinct. The ‘Animal Demons’ section has only just begun and it’s proving to be a bit much for certain folks. Was it the icy donkey show shown here? Was it the naked nipple-tweaking pig sex scene that did it? Or the devil crotch head that pushed people over the edge? Whatever the case, that’s kind of tame stuff compared to what’s about to come…

Though The Delusional Grandeur Tour is not in travel status this weekend, my friends are coming to the Tour Book for a little holiday get-together, and so the next installment of this Last Stand of a Rock Star will make its scheduled appearance here with a bit of Animal Demon action. When last we left the book, things had taken a darker turn, and this continues along that same menacing trajectory, with a buffer of whimsy.

We all have some bit of animal instinct within us. We all go a little feral from time to time. Keeping the beast within at bay is not an easy feat, but mastery of such impulses is mastery of the world. Control the wildness inside of you and you can control everything outside of you. The ones who let the animal take charge are the ones who fuck things up.

When you have an outlet like a Tour Book, however, you can let the rabid beast out to play. Just be prepared in the event that he doesn’t want to return to the cage…

There are some movies that break your heart open, that wrench your deepest feelings and touch the places we may most want to remain buried. These aren’t necessarily the most fun movies – they’re not the kind of movie you play over and over again, in the background or for friends before a Christmas party, but they’re the ones that resonate far longer.

‘The Hours’ is one of these movies for me. Based on the brilliant book by Michael Cunningham, it’s all about the Virginia Woolf segments, and the train station scene in particular.

“Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel I can’t go through another one of these terrible times and I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices and can’t concentrate so I am doing what seems to be the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I know that I am spoiling your life and without me you could work and you will, I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. Everything is gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.”

‘Brokeback Mountain’ is another. So quietly powerful and moving is this one that I can’t watch it more than once a year or so. Even then, I’m often only able to make it through bits and pieces. Stark, brutal, beautiful and unforgiving, it’s an exquisite dirge for the soul.

“The shirt seemed heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside Jack’s sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he’d thought, long ago in some damn laundry, his dirty shirt, the pocket ripped, buttons missing, stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack’s own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one.” – Annie Proulx

“He pressed his face into the fabric and breathed in slowly through his mouth and nose, hoping for the faintest smoke and mountain sage and salty sweet stink of Jack but there was no real scent, only the memory of it, the imagined power of Brokeback Mountain of which nothing was left but what he held in his hands.” – Annie Proulx

The Delusional Grandeur Tour was in Boston again this past weekend, hosting of all things a Holiday Children’s Hour, so I’m likely still reeling from that experience. The Holiday Card 2015 was also sent out, so it’s just a matter of time before it gets posted here. This year’s is a low-key scene – I need a year off now and then to recuperate from all the shock and awe and carnage of previous Holiday Card insanity. On with the recap…

One of my favorite holiday traditions – watching the old Christmas specials – went into overdrive with airings of A Charlie Brown Christmas and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

December is always a tricky month.

It turns out that in certain circles my bulge is more popular than my ass. Whatever, I’ll take it. (Though I happen to think my rosebud will be the most popular of them all.)

For the first time in 15 years, I decorated the Boston condo for Christmas.

A pause on the verge of winter.

An early holiday party.

Holiday Hunks who spread their Christmas joy in sweaty shirtless form included Rocky Buttery, Andrew Skelton, Eric East, Ramiro Sanchez, and Ryan Marek.

Finally, my naked ass for all of New York (and the world) to see. Please bare with me.