Category Archives: General

“Through synchronistic coincidences the Trickster can sometimes confront us with what we do not know about ourselves but must recognize if we are to know the whole of our own reality… As a creature without boundaries, his existence and activity are never absolutely fixed in place. He makes connections across the limits we ordinarily set for life, bringing together polar opposites and disclosing that which is hidden.

The Trickster puts life in our path in spite of our denials. We continue to stumble over his gifts, ignoring their disturbing nature when our luck is good, cursing some vague fate when our luck is bad.”

~ Allan Combs & Mark Holland

He is the mythic embodiment of the unexpected. He symbolizes the unexpected eruption into awareness of truths hidden away from the ego. In a psychological sense, the Trickster is one mode by which other archetypes, such as the archetype of the self, assert themselves.

This appearance of the Trickster is characteristic of his style: he pops up unexpectedly. The quality that he brings to synchronicity, however, is not simply that of surprise. his manner has the impish charm of cunning and magic. There is a flavor of roguish enchantment to the situations he orchestrates. ~ Allan Combs & Mark Holland

One has the feeling that in synchronicity the Trickster engages in the fabulous play of a divine jester; he is a “juggler of reality.” It is in the notion of play, we believe, that we may find the key to understanding our best relationship to the Trickster and thus to synchronicity. It is also the key to discovering his divinity in ourselves.

As a messenger and herald he represents the interests of a considerable range of unconscious or mythic figures. The most roguish play of the Trickster, however, is in the role of the prankster. In these the Trickster acts on behalf of an unconscious structure known as the shadow. ~ Allan Combs & Marl Holland

 The Trickster’s play frequently gives us opportunities, usually unwelcome, for personal growth by flaunting our most private secrets for the whole world to see. This seems to be the Trickster’s delight.

Thus, the play of the Trickster makes us confront our own faults in the everyday world, much as we are forced to confront them in our dreams. These instances offer the opportunity to recognize our faults and, by owning them, to take away their sting and in the bargain render ourselves more whole.

This is the Trickster as the shadow, stealing our purpose when we want to appear flawless – just to amuse himself with our foolishness. If we are open to this impish play, we realize that we have been reminded that we are only human, that we have limitations, no matter how perfect we might wish to appear. ~ Allan Combs & Marl Holland

“Virtually all cultures have stories involving the Trickster, most notably connected with the related ideas of creation, boundaries, and change…

Since synchronicities abound at times of transition, we can also expect to find the Trickster present at such times, giving with one hand while he might take away with the other, but he will certainly play a few tricks in the process.” ~ Robin Robertson

Of all the mythological characters, it is the Trickster who is most associated with chance and synchronicity, who is the bearer of good or ill fortune, who stirs the sands of fate and melds together glad and unhappy chance in patterns guessed only in the gleam of his eye. ~ Allan Combs & Mark Holland

But the Trickster is nothing if not paradoxical, and so he is also the joker, as selfish and unreliable as they come. His faults are ridiculously evident:

Sometimes he made mistakes, and although he was wise and powerful, he did many foolish things. He was too fond of playing tricks for his own amusement. He was also selfish, boastful, and vain.

~ Allan Combs & Mark Holland

The world of modern mechanistic science is a world bounded by the rigid constraints of causality. It is the Trickster’s predilection to cross such boundaries, bringing the unexpected to the commonplace. His gift of synchronicity, however, seems dark, sinister, and threatening to that world, because it appears to be an intrusion from an alien landscape, a world that mechanistic science cannot enter. Synchronicity plays the devil with the myth of causality. The expressions of the Trickster, who returns to us the life that our boundary-making tries to exclude, raises a satanic specter in the eyes of science. Its qualities are the most offensive: it cannot be objectively tested, and it makes itself unavailable for prediction and control. Synchronicity represents a hostile other because it is acausal, and as such blasphemes against the mythos of the causality principle. ~ Allan Combs & Mark Holland

Earlier this year I promised a few changes on www.ALANILAGAN.com, and one of those was the implementation of a Guest Blog feature. In an ongoing effort to make this site slightly more interactive, and to give voice to better writers than myself, I’m opening a few select spots up to those who have something to say. It need not be ground-breaking or earth-shattering (and I’d prefer if it wasn’t the latter as I know I wouldn’t fare well in an earthquake) but I know some of my friends have a gift for gab, as well as some sharp minds and wonderful wits.

First up is my pal Skip, for whom this feature was pretty much created. I begged, pleaded, and bothered him until he agreed to spill some words for the cause, and after reading his virgin entry it’s just as impressive as I knew it would be. He’ll premiere the Guest Blog spot with a two-part introduction that’s as hilarious as it is moving.

After that, I’ll be opening the series up to anyone who has something they’d like to contribute, particularly on the issues of love, life, sexuality, Tom Ford, Ben Cohen, and Madonna. (And pretty much anything else.) If you think you have what it takes, or just have something to say, contact me at alanilagan1[@]gmail.com.

The title of this post is slightly misleading, as it would seem to imply some sort of excitement or event that made the past week extra-special or noteworthy. In reality, nothing much happened other than the usual parade of Hunks and interludes of incessant complaining about the weather. (We get it, it’s cold.) Still, maybe something resonated with you, so let’s recap.

Murray Swanby rounded out the Andrew Christian explosion of late, and did it in fine underwear-clad form.

Tiffany unveiled its first-ever advertisement featuring a gay couple

Jerrad Swodeck made all the gay boys, and more than a few straight gals, swoon. (I think some straight men and gay ladies swooned too.)

Perfumed punctuation.

Ning Zetao got into the pool, and into a Speedo.

The best memories can be conjured by the cheesiest pop songs.

Hanging with a very hunky Mr. Cooper (Helfet, that is.)

Deep in the heart of Boston…

…with a little help from a few friends.

A ginger with an ass made fine from curling ~ Niklas Edin.

An Andrew Christian bonus: Daniel Sisniega.

Finally, Rob Gronkowski got his official honor as Hunk of the Day, mostly because someone pulled his pants down.

Today marks the birth-date of the woman who (whether you like it or not) brought me into this world. That’s right, it’s my Mom’s birthday, so if you see Laurie today wish her a happy one!

In their first same-sex marriage ad, Tiffany is proving to be as forward-thinking as it is venerable. Like everything the sterling company does, this is classy, timeless, touching, and beautiful.

Strangely, or wisely depending on bank accounts, I own only one Tiffany item: a gorgeous pen given to me by a dear ex-boyfriend. It’s still the best pen I’ve ever owned, and writes better than any other I’ve ever tried. I’ve had it for over sixteen years (I save it to use on special occasions). Like the company that made it, it’s classic, timeless, touching, and beautiful.

Oh brutal winter, you are delivering some cruel blows. The temperatures, as I write this, are well below freezing, and the wind is kicking up a storm. It’s awful stuff, made only barely bearable by long-johns and velour track suits. Don’t cast your stink-eye at me: when you know the rules of fashion you can break them. On to the week gone by…

Beauty’s where you find it, and this week it was found in the eyes (and hair) of Walter Savage.

It can also be found in a book, especially when it’s as gorgeous a read as ‘The Perfect Scent’ by Chandler Burr.

Put up your dukes for Luke.

From the land of ice, the music of winter.

The very first Non-Hunk of the Day, Justin Bieber, who completely ruined Calvin Klein underwear for many of us. And I mean forever.

The most powerful memory-conjuror: fragrance. (Even when it’s so-so.)

An unlikely Hunk, by request: John Cusack.

This Charlie is a man of eloquent words.

It was a week filled with scents, even one as light as snow.

A trio of Hunks rounded out the chilly week: Jeffrey Hawkins, Jerrad V. Swodeck and Ashley Parker Angel.

Most people would say that there is no smell to snow, but I disagree. It’s nothing strong, it’s nothing you might notice, but it’s there, in the air, this metallic tinge of ice crystals. There would be no point in trying to capture this for a fragrance or a candle. It’s not substantial enough. The only route would be to incorporate some other ancillary scent – maybe the pine trees, or the smoke from a fire, or even the acrid notes of exhaust and snow-blowers that can’t help but attach itself to the scene, in the way that gasoline from a lawn-mower is inextricably bound to the smell of freshly-cut grass.

Yet in its purest form, the scent of snow must exist. There must be some combination of molecules in the air when it snows that combines to form the fleeting fragrance, like the scent of ozone after a summer rain. Technically speaking, this wouldn’t be the scent of snow, exactly, but whatever else was in the air at the time of its falling. These are the circles the mind traverses as the temperatures chase us inside. Really, who would want to smell snow at this time anyway? We’ll get more than enough in its natural form, no need to put it in a bottle when it will surely overwhelm.

Still, it’s tempting to capture it, so beautiful is the scene at hand. So much of life is driven by that quest for the sublime, but the only thing that can truly convey the wonder of snow is, well, snow. Everything else is but a poor substitute, a hollow echo of the real thing – and an echo of something as ethereal as snow is hardly a thing at all.

Most of us have one of these. The catch-all room that gets turned into a storage den, usually unintentionally and over years of accumulation, until it gets to the point you see here, and you keep the door closed whenever company comes over, hoping vainly that your piece and nephew don’t stumble into it in the way that they usually stumble into the only places you don’t want them to be. In my defense, I’ve been sick lately and haven’t had time to keep things as ship-shape as I’d like. But even that’s a cop-out and an excuse, as this mess has been in the making for years.

Like a junk drawer that never quite gets cleaned out, this is the room that houses both my work-out equipment (hence the sorry state of my rotund tummy) and just about everything else that doesn’t have a spot in the house. The bench-press is more of a shelving unit at this point, and the actual shelving units bend beneath the warped weight of wood that’s been punished by the wayward watering of an ancient Thanksgiving cactus and several butterfly amaryllis. The room is in a very sad way, which is why I’m making it one of my New Year priorities to get it cleaned up. I don’t do resolutions, but I make a few promises and goals that almost always get accomplished. Cleaning out this space is first and foremost among them.

There won’t be any before-and-after comparison shots, and the door will likely remain closed even when it gets its make-over (there’s no reason to showcase a work-out/CD room.) But I’ll know it’s spotless, and that is a burden off my back. I think that’s the point of feng shui. It’s a mental matter. When you know there is clear space and cleanliness, you may just find peace. At least, I’m hoping.

Injecting a dose of rejuvenation into the New Year and this old blog, I’m planning a few different posts for the near and far future, as well as some changes to shake things up. First, the tone. I’ve always been a little hoighty-toighty and lofty and arrogant in the way I write here, mostly because I went to school to study literature and didn’t want to make it seem like a total waste. Since it largely was, however, there’s no point in pretending, so the voice you hear now will be a little more raw, a little less polished, and a lot more blunt. It should also sound slightly more urgent and, ideally, more exciting. Demanding too, perhaps, because I’ve learned that when you ask nicely nothing gets accomplished. Bow down, bow down, Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn!!!

Second up will be a few new posts that require something of you – the reader, the viewer, the wonderful people out there in the dark. One of them will be a guest post or two from some of my favorite people, beginning with this guy: my webmaster and partner-in-Thor-crimes, Skip Montross. Skip is a fantastic writer, but even better than his way with words is his skill at eliciting emotion when he tells a story. I’ve seen him go from hilarious to poignant to gross to touching in a single telling. Those are the skills that dazzle and amaze. That’s the shit I want on this blog. If you’d like to contribute, drop me a line and make your pitch: alanilagan1[@]gmail.com. Batter up, Tom Brady.

Third, the Hunks. Which guys do you want to see? And for those who like the ladies, dare I do a Hunkette feature? (That sounds wrong. Instruct me on the error of my misguided ways with the ladies. Set me straight. Or at least try. You did know my first crush was on Kayla on ‘Days of Our Lives‘ right?) Send me names, send me photos, send me your fantasies. I always aim to please. You aim too, please?

Fourth and finally, I aim to be a little less guarded. For all the chaotic ramblings, the emotional silliness, and the dramatic snit-fits, nothing here is ever out-of-control or spontaneous. It can’t be ~ I plan too far in advance, I’m too much of a perfectionist, I’m afraid to really let go. But this is the year I have nothing to lose. It will be a bit of a high-wire act, and there will be magnificent mistakes and fantastic falls and some days you won’t be able to click away fast enough – that’s all part of this roller-coaster. You can watch from below, or ride up to the top and plummet down with me. Either way, I hope you enjoy the ride.

Behold, the New Year.

A chance to reboot the system,

renew the energy,

restore the tried and tired,

and revamp the reviled.

Every year I like to start out with a whisper rather than a bang,

to ease into the tender early days of a new year,

like a rock-hard erection searching for something soft and welcoming.

Yeah, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not doing that this year.

Get ready to bow down, bitches. We go hard or we go home.

This is the year: my final tour, my 40th birthday, and my big reveal.

This is the year it all happens.

Things get more personal, more naked, more daring, and more interactive.

Set your bookmarks, pull up a chair, grab a libation, and hang on to your hats.

w w w . A L A N I L A G A N . c o m

Your guiltiest pleasures are about to come true…

and for this New Year, may all your baskets be bountiful.

The last look at this past year (and I’m limping through this third installment in all the agony to be expected from one who abhors looking back) features the arrival of fall and winter. Those darker months close out this year in a cozy and sometimes cruel manner. Hold onto your hats, as things are about to get deeply personal. Just remember, it’s going to be a great starting point for next year. The trajectory has just been reset. Get rear to rocket.

September 2014 ~

It always begins so quaintly, with my birthday snuggled into the last days of August. Deviating from tradition, I went to New York City for some shopping and a show (or two). Thanks to the bathroom, the briefs, the brunch, the bubble bath, and the beauty, it was an unforgettable birthday.

September signals a return to school for some unfortunate souls, and I always hated it for that reason.

The year that was all about a shirtless Nick Jonas commenced with this post, when it wasn’t about Chris Evans and his boxing, bouncing butt.

Figs and honey, food and fucking.

The Master of Madonna 101 is about to call class to order again, and I cannot wait.

Transitional fragrances can be tricky, even if the devil wears it.

Coffee and music and everything dreamy. (And then I saw a moose!)

A one poem, two poem, three poem day. Anything to slow the moment, or slow the river.

Another Starbucks episode. I’m entertaining the idea of a Starbucks-fiasco-only blog. It would be filled with shit like this.

I tried my hand at a Bachelor Party for my friend Chris. Afraid it wasn’t your typical Bachelor Party – my fault for inviting girls I guess. Oh well, there was already a baby in the picture.

October 2014 ~

Shit, how am I supposed to get my potty mouth under fucking control with this motherfucker inspiring me like this? SHIT.

Nick Jonas flaunted his crotch and his slightly-hairy ass for all the world to see, and no one complained one bit. Especially when he did it again. Even better was when he talked sex scenes and crotch grabbing.

This mermaid found herself back on Shore.

October is when fall really ripens into itself, and it’s both beautiful and wonderful. It’s also when the one-man-canning-machine goes into overdrive.

One last chance to swim. Without a swimsuit.

We went back to Washington for the wedding of Chris and Darcey, and it was just as lovely as DC usually is. We did a few historical things because I thought Andy would enjoy those – though we all know his favorite part was seeing Stephen Colbert filming a segment on a bicycle. As long as I get a dose of the botanical gardens, I’m good.

Of course our real reason for being there was the wedding of my good friend. Chris and I go way back, and he’s like a brother to me (one who actually enjoys my company, which is rather nice). He found the perfect match in Darcey, who knows best how to handle his moods and whims and sensitive nature. When they walked out with their son Simon I think we all got a little teary-eyed. Even better was when everyone (including the bride in her wedding dress) jumped in the pool at the end of the night.

Why I love my job.

Fall was a time for Passion via Stephen Sondheim and Sex via Madonna.

Thomas Wolski: an artist and a gentleman.

After the fall, but before the fall, and hanging onto my cock for dear life. Sounds exciting, but it made for a dismal Ogunquit stay. Well, almost dismal.

Sometimes this place is better than a Whitman’s Sampler, and without all the messy fruity crap that no one wants. Well, maybe there’s some fruit some of the time.

Get your Kilt on!

November 2014 ~

This is the month when everything changes. There’s nothing to do but hunker down and hold on. Things are going to get very emotional.

The secret to keeping your guacamole green.

Certain artists, like the amazing Joe Phillips, hold a special place in my heart, especially when they’ve been a part of my life since the 90’s.

Nick Jonas lost the purity ring and had sex.

Real heroes don’t call you a fag.

Ben Cohen was finally featured in the Profile of a Straight Ally for all his genuine dedication and hard work.

Gone with the Wind fabulous, from a 30-year-old virgin to a woman who ruled the world, and something decadent for the mouth and for the body.

My first foray into basketball and, you guessed it, last.

The kickoff to the holiday season was madness, rife with emotional land mines and resurrected memories. So I took the road less-traveled-by and I barely made it out alive.

December 2014 ~

Which brings us right to this very month, thankfully on its last legs and ready to depart.

She’ll be back, and better than ever. That’s what she does.

My childhood viewing habits should explain a lot.

Ben Cohen makes everything better.

A December recap within a December recap within a December recap within a yearly recap.

The Christmas season has begun.

My name is not David, but the other impostors didn’t even bother changing my name.

Doing lines, 70’s glam rock style, for this year’s snowy Holiday Card.

A misty water-colored memory brought on by Babs.

I had the best of intentions this holiday season, but my family sometimes has a way of making me feel unwanted. I’m probably partly to blame for that, or for allowing it to happen, so I’m going to try to work it out here. The best part of this blog, and its most valuable aspect, is the way it can be a catalyst for catharsis.

My favorite Christmas moment of the year, with the possible exception of this moment in Florida, this stroll along the Gulf Coast, or this mash-up of palm trees and Christmas trees. I may have to spend next Christmas in Florida.

A pair of fragrances took me away better than Calgon: this Jo Malone creation, and this beauty by Diana Vreeland. Sometimes a girl has to treat herself.

The midsection of the year finds the seasonal highlight that is spring turning into summer. Weather-wise it is the most glorious time of the year, for gardeners and non-gardeners alike. It’s as if the world is fulfilling the promise it made in the dark moments of winter, and all the tears get washed away beneath the sun.

May 2014 ~

May is the month of Mothers, and I celebrated with mine on our annual Broadway adventure – and an extra surprise. While we were in NY, Hedwig put on a grand show, we strolled through Central Park, saw other ‘Mothers & Sons‘, crossed some beautiful Bridges, had a lovely dinner with Suzie and Adrien Grenier, a lovely brunch by the park, and took in Neil Patrick Harris and his Tony-winning turn in ‘Hedwig and the Angry Inch.‘

It’s also the month of my wedding anniversary. And peonies.

A fountain runs dry and a lady gets naked, while a mother and daughter get real.

OMFG.

One of the saddest moments of the year was the loss of a dear friend. This one’s for you, Lee.

A lighter fragrance for the season.

The Profile of a Straight Ally feature was back in effect with the amazing Hudson Taylor.

Another straight ally, Ben Cohen, got this definitively sexy post, perhaps bested only by this skin-heavy post of his arch-rival in the hotness department, David Beckham. (And Mr. Beckham got a bonus.)

My bottom hurts just thinking about it.

Memories of Ogunquit, made anew, along with an additional port of call. In its peace and beauty, Maine is where I can get undressed and let my hair down.

June 2014 ~

The month that summer officially begins is a welcome one. It provides the weather to get shamelessly shirtless. And it’s not just me.

The deliciousness that is a properly-made fish taco.

Olfactory anticipation awaited in this post, and came to fruition in this one.

The annual explosion of color, and this colorful character kept the season hot and exciting, especially when in the city seeing ‘Here Lies Love.’

Summer means more family fun, thanks to these two. Not yet sold on the dance recitals, however.

Sometimes summer means Madonna, and summer games both wicked and wonderful.

Summer also means Tom Daley in a Speedo. Oh, stretching too.

June means Father’s Day and these memorable DILFs.

June is also the time for Gay Pride in many cities, which means sparkle and sequins.

July 2014 ~

While our family vacation technically began in June, it didn’t get posted until July. I just didn’t want the fun to end, I guess, and putting it down in a post meant it was already over. But there were a trove of beach memories, days spent in the sun and sand, and the general merriment that goes along with a family vacation in Cape Cod. That sort of beauty and goodness stays with one long after the fact, after the delicious seafood dinners and the games of miniature golf. Like all good things, it was over much too quickly. But summer had just begun…

A bit of preening and rose-posing in front of the air conditioned bedroom in Boston, while memories of Russia bobbed in my head.

A naked Michael Phelps got into the water and out of his Speedo, while Zac Efron got onto a horse and out of his shirt.

Flowers, posies, and splashing around the pool – these are summer things.

A Summer Superhero, with a very visible cartoon bulge, who happens to smell really good too.

Anxiously awaiting the next Madonna Moment.

July marks the month I met Andy, and we all know how that turned out. This year, it also marked the arrival of a bundle of joy.

It wasn’t the beach, but it was almost as fun. Chalk it up to the right people being involved.

I’ve got a galaxy you can guard.

August 2014 ~

The last full month of summer began with a capital ‘F’ in it, and the anticipation for a certain movie adaptation started then too.

Lavender dreaming, and more family fun that had to be extended here.

Family isn’t always fun, however, even in the summer, and at times like that it’s sometimes best to get away. All the way to Park Avenue, where I spent my birthday  (but that story didn’t get posted until September…)

A birthday suit post. You’re welcome.

Not quite a good spanky, but you’ll make it through the wilderness like a virgin.

There are good gays, and there are bad gays – and then there are just plain dumb gays.

Yes, I did the ice-bucket challenge, and here’s the video to prove it.

A few favorites got totally starkers and buck-ass naked on the blog, including Matthew Camp, Steve Grand, and Orlando Bloom.

Riding the Trojan horse.