Category Archives: General

The Delusional Grandeur Tour got over the hump with its recent spattering of Tour Book entries, chronicling the Warrior Retribution portion of the proceedings. Non-fans of the darker images can relax and rest easy now – from here on out it’s going to be beauty and fashion and flowers and shit – and something a little bit deeper, but that’s for you to discover on your own.

For this Hump Day, here’s a jockstrap shot that never made the final Tour Book, taken as noted from the Warrior section. {You may revisit that lengthy chapter at these links: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight.}

And if you like jockstraps, you can visit these posts: Jockstrap One, Jockstrap Two, Jockstrap Three, Jockstrap Four, Jockstrap Five, Jockstrap Six, Jockstrap Seven, Jockstrap Eight. What can I say? We like to get linky here.

This is a clean-up post, wherein a random assortment of photos that didn’t quite find their place in previous posts get dumped so I can clear out some flash drives and you can see some almost-rans. It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, and I have no issue stepping aside for yapping dogs. Originally, I was going to go into their respective backgrounds and offer a background for why they didn’t make the cut, but it’s more fun (and way more easy) to let them speak for themselves. Choose your own adventure.

The lovely and lusty month of May is at hand, but before we indulge let’s recap the last week of April, because good stuff happens then too. It began with a collection of keys. Outside, more lessons revealed themselves. Some stories longed to be told, but I wasn’t going to whisper them. There were parties to plan, and friends to gather. In the air, a hawk swooped through the middle of the day.

A lackluster Madonna Timeline proved that I don’t love everything she does.

Waiting for the day’s eye.

Mae West knows best.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour got all bloody.

Jewels & fruit.

The ‘Warrior Retribution‘ section began its jock-strap-shrouded descent, before concluding in superhero fashion.

A bevy of beautiful men bellied up to the Hunk bar: Ryan Serhant, Nathan McCallum, Ashley McKenzie, and Guilherme Rufino.

The beginning of May.

While naming favorites is my least favorite thing to do, May is definitely in my top three of favorite months. It has within it the entire anticipatory thrill of summer, and the very high-point of spring – the best of both worlds at once. That time is again upon us, but before looking forward (and there’s a lot to look forward to) here’s a little look back at last May:

• This was a pleasant reminder of what I just wore the other day: Le Jardin de Monsieur Li.
• Let’s go back to Boston Harbor. It’s pretty now.
• Naked gardening.
• Super jockstraps (in a wide array of styles).
• When spring gets lonely.
• One for the road.
• My issues with FaceBook may have started with my ass. (As many things do.)
• When things go soft.
• A gay boy finds his heart.
• I’m lucky to have worked in two wonderful offices. (And I smell all the better for it.)
• Soon, there will be Maine. (I cannot wait.)
• Adam Levine naked. You’re welcome.
• Happy May!

The Delusional Grandeur Tour returns to Boston this weekend, but first a look back at where we’re at, and from where we’ve come:

01)  Intro/Curtain – Part One, Part Two, Part Three

02)  Sunset Pool – Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

03)  On The Road Hotel – Part One, Part Two, Part Three

04)  Rock Star Addict – Part One, Part Two, Part Three

05)  Animal Demons – Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

06)  Steam Punk Birdcage – Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

07) Red Riding Wood – Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

08) Winter Top Hat – Part One, Part Two

09) Warrior Retribution – Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five…

Tomorrow we continue the Warrior Retribution battle, and as you may have noticed, things are getting bloody good… or good and bloody.

“I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.” - Mae West

Outside the 10^th floor windows of my office, a hawk soars in circles. Carving wide curves in the air, its wings catch the currents and it floats high above downtown Albany. It doesn’t seem to be looking for anything to eat – no scurrying rodent down below, no nest to raid a little higher – it simply glides through the sky.

Without getting too anthropomorphic, it appears to be exulting in the freedom that being a bird entails.

Behind the glass, behind the blinds, I am not the only one who envies that freedom.

That Virginia Woolf moment when all you want to do is throw a party, but your whole inner-world is in turmoil, so you go out and buy flowers because it’s the last thing that might save your sanity – this is not a picture of that. Instead, it’s a portrait of the last big party I had in Boston – for JoAnn’s 40^th birthday. This year we’re reconvening on a smaller and more intimate scale, and Kira will once again help out for the festivities. (At least, I hope she will…)

Spring gatherings always remind me of Gatsby, of nights when the perfume of unseen blossoms fills the air, and the world seems filled with the unfurling hope and promise of summer. In the hours before the guests arrive, we pause and take in the moment. All the preparation and cleaning, all the assembly and finishing – it comes together and there is an hour or two of quiet and peace. Sometimes that’s the best part of a party.

In order to have the best of both worlds, this upcoming gathering is designed to be on the cozier side of things. Very rarely do I get to talk to everyone at a party because there is too much going on and too many people involved. I’m looking forward to breaking that spell.

The dull and the mundane are often overlooked, but they have their stories too. Most of the time they never get told – too unexceptional, too uninteresting, too commonplace to be worthy of a tale. I’m not going to say anything on their behalf, however, as it would be conjecture and half-hearted guessing at best. Weave your own back-stories and make up your own fantasies on how these objects came to be discarded. It is a world of the lost.

Pull me off of my knees! On a Monday morning, my favorite thing to do is lament the passing of another weekend. I think back to those precious moments on Friday, when it all began, when it felt like we had all the time in the world to do all the things we wanted, and the possibility of excitement and merriment and fun was all we needed. I think of a key – the key to a car and the start of an adventure. The key to a hotel room, and the anticipation of seeing what’s on the other side. The key to our Boston condo, and the beginning of a few days away. The key to a heart…

As of this writing, and a full three days of working outside in the yard, my body is about to give out, so forgive me if this recap is lazy as a clam. (Are clams even lazy?) Anyway, we began the week with a few changes. Nothing too major, just a couple of differences you may or may not have noticed, starting with a revamped posting schedule that goes back to a more energetic time. That’s right – the third post has returned.

That makes these recaps slightly more involved, so we may have to jumble the Hunks together, or in nifty little snatch batches, like this one: Tommy Didario, Tom Daley, Kevin Stea, Aaron Valenzuela & Adam Von Rothfelder.

We also have a semi-regular mid-week feature – the Wacky Wednesday post – in which some silliness relieves the drama and seriousness of most of the intent around here.

Attention has shifted to the garden, thanks to some decent weather at long last. It’s catch-up time now, but there’s always a moment for a good gardening lesson.

The birthday of a good friend is a good thing indeed.

Chris Pratt was already a Hunk of the Day, but he gets a special post for taking his shirt off. Same goes for these guys. And Daniel Macedo.

Adam Levine paid tribute to Prince in this amazing way.

I am now a proud member of the Beyhive.

Something about pearls never quite sat right with me.

I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s their overused ubiquity.

Or the fact that they’re all too easily faked.

Or maybe they’re just boring.

Classic, yes, but boring.

I own one real set, and they’re precious to me because they came from Andy.

I’m just never going to be a girl in pearls.