Category Archives: General

The month of March is at hand! The month when spring arrives – if not by way of weather then by way of calendar, and I’ll take either. When life seems troubled by the burdens of being an adult – mortgage payments, credit card payments, health insurance, car insurance, job responsibilities, home repairs, spouse’s health – I pause and think of a March first in the early 1980’s.

It was a dreary, blustery day and I was in the second grade. Outside, it was gray and dismal and soggy, but even that was not enough to dampen my spirits, as we were learning that March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb. It was the most important lesson of the day, and it was all that mattered. It was back when life consisted of dealing with the seasons and the holidays and the long trudge toward summer vacation – not even a glimmer at such an early stage of the year. We drew lions and lambs, curlicues of wind and the yellow orb of the sun breaking through the clouds. We sat at our desks, arranged in a U-shaped design around the center of the room, and worked on our posters. Beneath the fluorescent lights we felt safe and unbothered by what was outside, what was to come.

I long for that moment. I think of it when I awake in the middle of the night worried about things, when in darkness and solitude I suddenly miss having a classmate flanking each side of me, lending a crayon or a pencil, sharing a laugh or a whisper, comparing the sky on my paper with the sky outside the window.

We spend our childhoods dreaming of what it will be like to be older, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to get it all back.

Last night’s live-blogging of the Oscar telecast began in thrilling fashion, but fizzled as the show went on. In fact, it’s the ‘In Memoriam’ tribute portion that’s on as I’m writing this. Multi-tasking, baby. Onto a brief look back at the week that came before this last day of February, an extra day only allotted every four years.

Alex Valley (featured poster boy for this recap) kicked things off as the Hunk of the Day.

A family memory came to me in the middle of the night.

This fragrance was a happy surprise, even if it contained elements of nakedness and Madonna.

Family dominated the week, as my brother celebrated his 39th birthday. (He makes furniture too.)

Somewhat surprisingly, Anderson Cooper only just got his first Hunk of the Day honor.

The hue of spring, as early as it was welcome.

When flowers fade, beauty lingers.

A mid-winter, mid-afternoon cocktail break.

Shit went from faux to pho.

Other Hunks featured this week were Eric Rutherford, Harry Aikines-Aryeetey, Aaron Lee Smith, Philippe Gagné, and Jack Eyers.

Finally, the Oscar recap as live-blogged by yours truly. It’s why I hate live-blogging.

Blog posts are traditionally titled with the aim of gaining clicks and viewers, devised with snappy and often saucy phrases to whet the appetite and entice the casual browser. This is not one of those. This is an honest description of the way I feel at this time of the year, and the way I feel about this recap of the week. There’s a whole month left of winter, so chew on that while you look back.

Things began on a promising and artistic note, with this post on the amazing work of Nicolas Brunet.

Zachary Quinto’s boyfriend Miles McMillan took it all off and infected every one of us with some serious beach envy.

Michael Phelps remains musclebound, and headed for the Speedo parade.

An aural treat by a Trainor.

Domhnall Gleeson made for an unorthodox hunk, but a ginger is a ginger.

What do I care how much it may storm?

I’ve got lavender light to keep me warm.

A rare double-Hunk of the Day post featured Will Wikle and Colby Keller double-teaming the popular feature.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour carried onward, deep into the forest.

Ronnie Kroell continues to use his hunkdom for good.

Typically-hot hunks dominated the nightly posts, headed up by Bo Roberts, François Sagat, Zack Hardt, and Brock O’Hurn.

Last but not least, a whiff of summer carried on the wind, in the form of some Tom Ford gorgeousness.

It had to happen, sooner or later. The arrival of winter in full frigid form, with the kind of cold that bites into your throat as soon as you step outside. We had it this past weekend, and while not entirely unwelcome it’s still a shock. (You all remember last year, right? This is NOTHING compared to that…) In other words, we are right where we should be, polar vortex nonsense and everything. On with the recap, to keep you warm.

Things began in a heated way, thanks to Mr. Matthew James Lister, one of the more popular Hunks of the Day of late.

A hot shower is a luxury for some of us, but I’ve never taken it for granted.

Viewers also enjoyed the hot, hairy ass of Tobi Jasicki.

Listeners enjoyed the aural fixations of Madonna and her Holy Water.

Some guys got their naked butts out for Ass Wednesday. Glad Lenten tidings to the nude male celebrities.

Faded memories.

Two-time Hunk of the Day Ben Todd did his best warm-up exercises.

Comfort food in the elegant Bravo of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

Alex Oda gave hot male face and bod to the Hunk of the Day tradition.

A Boston bedroom in the sunlight of winter.

Tom Ford gives a lesson in the beauty of ‘A Single Man.’

Joss Mooney almost lived up to his name in his first bow as Hunk of the Day.

This year’s Valentine’s mix was a folk-themed collection of quiet love songs.

Stay warm, lovers.

If it were any other week, I’d have a major problem with all this groundhog talk. The rodent has never been good to me or my sweet potato vines, but since he didn’t see his shadow, I’m thanking his lack of vision and counting on an early spring. Holding faith in such folkloric tales is as foolish as courting crows for a game of chess, but I’m not averse to a little blind check mating. Now I’m mixing metaphors and making a mess of things, so let’s look back before I forget what already happened.

Groundhog villainy notwithstanding, things began with this semi-faux pho, a cooking success by all accounts.

Gregory Maguire offered his enchanting take on ‘Alice in Wonderland’ in the equally-wondrous ‘After Alice.’

The Delusional Grandeur Tour was in stationary status when the week began, but by the weekend it returned with this hint of the woods, and then the first installment of the ‘Red Riding Wood’ section, and its immediate follow-up.

A voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you…

A new fragrance for winter.

And the heat was on, thanks to Hunks like Ryan Tongia, Valerio Pino, Gary Taylor, Brendan Hansen, Tim Tebow, and Donnie Rust, the Naked Busker.

The last full month of winter begins today, which is why the title of this post references hope. Even though February is a Pandora’s box of weather frights and frigid nights, there are usually a few moments of spring carrying on the wind, some small wisp of hope that manages to seep in among the frozen layers of ice and snow. In the midst of it all is the Hallmark holiday of love, Valentine’s Day. No word yet on whether I’m doing a Valentine’s Card. It certainly won’t be in print, but it may be online. Or it may be an Instagram post. No matter what, it probably won’t be spectacular, so move on if you want scandal. Now, about the previous week…

It marked the end of Mercury in retrograde, for the moment, though ramifications are still being felt.

Zac Efron stripped to his naked ass and shook it for the world to see.

A necklace of cherries.

The majesty of Edward Marler.

A single candle against the lot of winter.

A show of flowers, even if they’re false.

Tom Daley, back in his Speedo, where he belongs.

A bangin’ brunch at Boston Chops.

Season of citrus, scent of mandarin.

Davide Zongoli, Stephen James, Jarrod Scott, Oriol Elcacho & Ryan Rose made shirtless appearances as Hunks of the Day.

Despite the reliance that Norma Desmond and Little Edie Beale placed on astrology, I never really put much faith in it. However, like the events that so often fall under a full moon, there may be something to Mercury in retrograde, as much of the insanity that occurs in life seems to happen during these periods. Here’s a bit of background on the phenomenon. Believe what you want to believe, I’m just happy that this recent retrograde is over.

“Sometimes the other planets appear to be traveling backward through the zodiac; this is an illusion. We call this illusion retrograde motion. Several times a year, it appears as if Mercury is going backwards. This time was traditionally associated with confusions, delay, and frustration.

Perhaps Mercury’s retrograde periods can cause our plans to go awry. However, this is an excellent time to reflect on the past. Intuition is high during these periods, and coincidences can be extraordinary.

The planet Mercury rules communication, travel, contracts, automobiles, and such. So, when Mercury is retrograde, remain flexible, allow time for extra travel, and avoid signing contracts. Review projects and plans at these times, but wait until Mercury is direct again to make any final decisions.

About a week or two before Mercury retrogrades, finish any tasks or projects at hand.  You can’t stop your life, but plan ahead, have back-up plans, and be prepared for angrier people and miscommunication.

Some people blame Mercury retrograde for bad things that happen in their lives. Instead, take this time to sit back and review where you put your energy in your life. Take a moment to reflect.”

Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, please let this recent retrograde motion of Mercury end, and let it end with me. Today is supposedly the day things calm down a bit after that tumultuous bit of planetary movement, and whether or not you believe in such things, the world has gone a little bit around the bend these last few weeks.

At such times, and particularly at this time of the year, I get the itch to wash things clean, and begin anew. No better way to restart the engine than with the Mistress of Chameleonic Motion, Madonna.

Andy went on the radio to talk about his greatest passion: cars. Surprisingly, aside from a ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’ break and a quick shower, I mostly listened. (They hooked me with Madonna’s ‘Body Shop.’)

It became a little harder to hear this week, with all the wind and snow, but the first whispers of spring were in the air (even if it was all so much wishful thinking).

Glass magic, optical trickery, and sleights of sight.

An eclectic collection of Hunks was comprised by Marwan Kenzari, Johnny V, Adrian De Berardinis, Adam  Driver, Sebastian Swiatek, & James Haskell (seen above and below).

A lazy Sunday got a sexy sort of make-over, not just once, but twice.

Above, the sky appears to open up beyond gates of gold. A luscious cloud-cover that could only be conjured from a can of paint and a cacophony of creative brushstrokes. Bordered by the baroque framework and gilded glory of a past not quite ready to fade, the sky looks like an arched afterthought. The wandering eye could get lost amid such treasures, seeking out what is beyond, only to meet destruction, or at the very least a certain soreness, upon colliding with cement. The tricks and the artifice only possible with expectation.

I live for these jarring moments when reality is skewed, or slightly questioned, when what seems real is no more than a dream or a mirage. The result of a joint effort of wishful thinking and suggested possibility; the will to believe can fill in the most questionable of blanks. For the most part, the mind works this way because it’s a system that, well, works. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, what we see is what we get. But for that one time when it isn’t, it feels like the universe is winking at me. I love that feeling. A shared moment of mischief. The sudden glimpse of the Trickster. An instantaneous shifting of the ground you thought was stable. Little earthquakes of consciousness.

Mercury’s retrograde madness… it runs on and on and on and on…

A muddled day, when the cherry tree, bare and brown, drips ice and snow and rain like it can’t make up its mind to freeze or thaw, to stiffen or melt, and the results are nothing but a dreary mess. A holiday at hand too, to celebrate a great man, a man who might not recognize his country today, in ways good and bad, but for this one moment I’m looking at the hopeful side of things. Today also marks my Mom’s birthday – we’ll be hosting a comfort food dinner in her honor tonight (I’m making a 16-hour beef stew) – so if you happen to see Laurie today wish her a happy one! On with the silliness that is this blog.

Nothing is sillier than our Hunk of the Day feature, and it started off the week featuring Anthony Forte, Kit Dale, and Jeremy McConnell.

Russell Tovey revealed his banging body, amid more stories of questionable quotes he’s recently made. Look it up, I’m too tired to throw shade right now, and without the sun in sight we don’t need it.

A Valentine’s Day wish and prayer.

A Christmas wrap-up gone the way of all that wrapping paper.

This Hunk was a holly Jolley named Liam.

Going back to Boston soon enough…

Getting it on like Marvin Gaye, via Charlie Puth.

Life is nothing but a choice.

Another version of Toto.

Hunk of the Day Alejandro Piantini.

The next installment of The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book was posted, and it was all about the Edies. The tour will roll on next weekend in Boston and Cape Cod. For now, the SteamPunk Birdcage bit wraps up here, and here.

Yes, I realize it’s Monday, but as I write this it’s Sunday, and it’s raining, and things look dreary. Mercury remains in retrograde (as it will until January 25) so I am laying low and doing my best to fly under the proverbial radar until this planetary shift calms the fuck down. It’s almost as bad as a full moon. On with a quiet and unobtrusive recap…

Let’s begin with beauty, specifically the form of male model Layton Draper.

Next, let’s have some color – oodles and oodles of bold and ferocious color.

Far better than painting by numbers, this is painting by penis, courtesy of Brent Ray Fraser.

By ‘pussy’ I mean ‘pussycat.’ Don’t bring your own gender hang-ups into this sacred space.

The bulge of Juan Salazar.

Madonna was ‘Living For Love‘ at a lovely appearance with Sean Penn.

Jason Schwarzman took a bow in his first Hunk of the Day appearance.

Tyson Beckford exposed his naked ass for the briefest of moments, but we captured his posterior for posterity.

Something for the squealing teenage girl (and boy) in all of us: Cody Simpson.

The winter of ‘Evita’ and a memorable chapter in Madonna-lore.

Tim Donkin was a pretty Hunk of the Day.

Your Mint Majesty moment.

Tom Daley & Dustin Lance Black: Men in Love and in Pictures.

Russell Tovey’s shirtless magnificence.

No apologies – Mercury is in retrograde, I’m feeling fat and in need of a haircut, so I’m taking it all out on the Golden Globes until a new episode of ‘Downton Abbey’ comes on to restore peace in the world. Until then, some rude comments on Hollywood celebrities. They can handle it, I’m sure.

We begin with the obnoxious crew at E! Online.

Giuliana Rancic channeling some sexy but strange Queen Amidala look.

Ick… emerald green all over the red carpet tonight. Personal preference, or the opposite-there-of.

Just when I was on the verge of coming around to navy, there’s Jamie Lee Curtis. And we’re done.

Sam Smith – further proof that money and fame can buy you a better body.

Natalie Dormer is disastrous on every level. The least she could have done is comb her hair.

I like all the ladies embracing the mini-muffin tops.

At this point Ryan Seacrest is just teflon. (And I still want to throw a bunch of eggs at him and make an omelet.)

Jennifer Lopez in a self-described ‘mustardy/marigoldy’ ensemble – love the color and architecture of this one.

Melissa McCarthy in a trash bag, staying true to her own tradition.

Oooh! David Oyelowo is looking chic in that non-traditional suit.

But Eddie Redmayne may be the best-dressed man tonight.

I am desperately trying to get a better view of Cate Blanchett. I saw fringe and pink and that’s always a promising beginning.

Jane Fonda – so ridiculous I have to love it.

Channing Tatum, that hair?

Lady Gaga is totally channeling 1987 Madonna and I’m loving it. Arm-candy Taylor Kinney looks fine too.

Ricky Gervais and that crass opening monologue? It would have been funnier if he’d stood there drinking that ridiculous beer and burping.

I want Viola Davis to be my fairy godmother.

Bryce Dallas Howard: from America’s favorite daughter to grandmother in one ill-advised dress.

Just because your dress has pockets doesn’t mean you should use them when presenting.

Where did Brad Pitt get his Dorian Gray portrait done?

I wonder if Tom Ford was just the tiniest bit stung by presenting with Lady Gaga wearing Versace.

When did Quentin Tarantino turn into my 8th grade social studies teacher?

The lesson gleaned once again from the Golden Globes: I hardly watch any television. Who are these people? What are these shows?

Chris Evans… let me go to bed with his dapper image in my head.

Jim Carrey, channeling Merlin Olsen. That’s how far my TV-watching experience goes back.

They really ARE actors – they’re laughing at Ricky Gervais!

Sipping a cup of mint majesty tea, I looked up briefly from my book, ‘After Alice’ by Gregory Maguire, as the door opened. A cutting wave of cold winter air rushed over those of us by the door, as a family of three entered. A bearded gentleman, with a slightly receding hairline, guided his daughter as she walked awkwardly and unsteadily in front of her mother. Something was different about the girl – some disability or affliction left her footing unsure, and her over-exuberant and loud talking bursts signified deeper issues. I gave a faint smile as they passed, then listened as the barista greeted them with exaggerated friendliness. I felt a little relieved. People can be dismissive and cruel to anyone different, even children.

The barista asked the girl if she liked stickers. She clung closer to her Dad, seemingly trying to disappear into the folds of his jacket. He said she did and though I wasn’t watching, I assume some stickers passed from the barista to the girl. They placed their order and moved down to the pick up area.

A row of four empty stools stood near them, and the girl patted the seat of one, saying, “For Mama!” Her mother gratefully took the seat, and her daughter joined her as they watched another barista make a grand production of their drinks. He indulged the girl and performed fanciful feats of dairy art, granting some extra whipped cream to her delight and her parents’ appreciation.

I hoped the rest of the world would be this kind to her always. Maybe we each have to do our best to make sure it is. Even though I know it won’t be, I want to believe we could each reach deep inside and conjure such care for those who need it.

I love color.

Strong, bold, bright, jarring, shocking color.

I love shades that are saturated with pigment, rich full hues that challenge the eye and prove formidable matches to any decorative environment.

It’s a polarizing preference. In today’s bland world, there is safety in beige, and mainstream acceptance of pastels. To sell a house, you will be told to paint the walls white (no matter how exquisite your taste). To select an outfit, you will be told that basic black can never go wrong. I’d rather risk it all and make myself happy before bowing down to any sort of safe choice.

These photos were taken in Cambridge the last time I was there. Cambridge is more colorful than Boston, less prim and proper. I don’t know why I don’t spend more time there. Well, yes I do. It’s the Red Line. The brightest T line often takes the longest time to move passengers along, especially during rush hours. Still, for a jolt of inspiration as seen here, it may be worth the wait.