Category Archives: General

The censored pics from JoAnn’s birthday celebration. You don’t want to see the rest.

PS – Quality Inn my ass.

On Saturday of this past weekend, I drove over to the Cape, just beyond the Bourne Bridge, to surprise my friend JoAnn for her birthday. That particular pocket of Cape Cod holds special meaning to me, as we spent many times at her place on North Beach, talking and sharing and healing. It’s always a treat to return and revisit that part of the past. I arrived long before check-in, so I drove around a bit – both in town, and then further into Falmouth.

The day was gray and overcast, spitting out rain and making most photo ops impossible. I did get these two, however ~ the windmill and the bridge ~ a pair of structural elements that defied the somber lack of color. On Main Street, I ducked into a French bakery to escape the wind and rain, hunkering down at a window table and devouring an almond croissant and, I admit, a chocolate chip cookie. A cup of coffee rounded out the breakfast, and when the rain let up a little I ventured back out.

No matter how much we try to tame her, nature will not be stopped. On this day, she only roared in the morning, and as the hours progressed her agitation diminished, until by three o’clock she was showing some of her blue sky, and it was again time to eat.

That’s about as profound as it’s going to get here today. Just another Manic Monday…

It was a week dominated by the unreal tragedy at the Boston Marathon, and the subsequent manhunt surrounding the Boston area, and as such I was slightly all over the place, unsure quite how to deal with it blog-wise, ultimately ending up with a single written letter to the city I love so much. I have nothing left to say about it at the moment.

When things turn crazy in the outside world, I tend to turn inward, to friends and family, especially when they remind of childhood innocence, as in the birthday joy of my niece and nephew.

Other distractions could be found in the vain, vapid, and ridiculous pornstache I had going (and which finally went bye-bye for real last night.)

What separates the men from the real mean, and the women from the real women.

Once-a-freaking-century this happens, and of course it has to happen to my prized possession.

There was only one official Hunk of the Day for the week, and he managed to shine and doff his shirt, as evidenced by the great Colby Keller.

To make up for the dearth of shirtlessness and male nudity, I offered what was behind Doors One, Two, and Three.

April showers sometimes bring April flowers, as seen here and here.

While searching through my flash drive I realized that I never posted the Easter outfit from Boston, and as I’ll be departing Massachusetts for another week or two, it seems a fitting time to put it up. Besides, these are all filler posts until I return with a new batch of inspirational photos. As you read this, I’ll hopefully be traversing Massachusetts and New York, a little spent, a little tired, but emotionally satiated from having seen some very good people.

A castle with a turret and a drawbridge. A damsel in anything-but-distress. A fireside hearth, before which a pink and diamond-studded shoe dries on a grate. And a yarn-tailed pony, resting on its side, ready to be brought back to life by a little hand.

When I was a kid, this sort of scene would have kept me occupied for hours, as I imagined all kinds of scenarios, setting and reconfiguring this castle, moving all its occupants (Piglet included) and enacting various far-fetched daily dramas for the knights and queens and animals. In truth, I made just as much out of a cardboard box that Dad would bring home from the hospital, and never really thought to want more until I got older. I grew and fostered my imagination because I had to, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. If children can’t learn to entertain themselves on their own, without fancy phones or sensory overload, they will never be satisfied as adults.

I’m starting to sound like a grumpy old man, and perhaps I am. There may be nothing new under the sun. I do wonder what’s becoming of imagination, when all the wildest experiences can be conjured on a computer screen, so readily at hand, so easily explored. Maybe I just want to go back to being a kid again. Maybe that’s what we all want in some way. Maybe that’s why children are so captivating to some of us.

We didn’t quite welcome spring into season just yet, but I’m holding out hope for this coming week. The last one just did not do it for me. We look to improve things as far as the temps go, and with an upcoming weekend in Boston, I shall refrain from complaining. Onto the last week, for those of you fortunate to miss everything…

I did my best to channel spring and wrangle some flowers into bloom, to no avail. Instead, I posted some of my gardening pieces: A Gardener Returns to His Roots, The Growth of a Garden, Plants of Glory, The Battle of a Gardener, Midnight in the Garden, and Gardener’s Soliloquy.

If I had an Instagram account, it would look largely like this, which instantly negates the need for an Instagram account. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Things got a little fussy as a pal tried to inject some new life into the Albany Food Scene.

Ryan Lochte, Eric Alán, Stephen Whipple, Tyler Lough, Lance Bass, and Josh Dallas took their clothes off for the Hunk of the Day feature, while Bradley Cooper and George Clooney did nothing for me.

The Madonna Timeline returned with one of her strongest cuts from last year’s ‘MDNA’ album, ‘Love Spent‘. Ms. Ciccone also celebrated the anniversary of the opening of the Blonde Ambition Tour, even if I couldn’t bring myself to watch it at the time.

My musical memory was also being jogged by a few 80’s hits, notably this ditty from the movie ‘Mannequin‘, and the song that almost kept Madonna’s ‘Crazy For You’ from the top spot, ‘We Are the World‘.

A few people, Andy included, had been asking me when I was going to shave my winter beard. I don’t like being nudged into doing things I will eventually do on my own. With that in mind, I gave in and shaved the beard. But I kept the ‘stache. Cause that’s the kind of bitch I am.

There’s a bit of Freddie Mercury to it, a bit of 70’s porn, and a whole lot of nasty bad taste. Which is why I love it. And why I am keeping it for a while.

And so we close, and open, another week. Without much change, without much excitement. We’ve been here before, and we’ll likely be here again. Is there the beauty of reassurance in that, and is there beauty in such reassurance? I do not know. I only know what I do, and lately it is the same. The routine. There is something deadening about that. Here is a prayer that we will survive together. Onto the past…

It was a week that saw the silliness and assault of April Fool’s Day, where Ben Cohen’s full-frontal naked shot was just as likely as mine.

Our virgin trip to Boston Chops more than met our expectations, actually surpassing them, and for those who don’t eat meat… you’re missing out.

Aside from a flurry of FaceBook photos from the way-back-when, I also waxed nostalgic for my very first date with a guy. And I was only 14 years old.

A few years later, but more than a few from today, another happy memory was born.

Most of the Hunks of the Day flew under the radar, but are worth a second look, like James Ellington, Matt Targett, and Chris Davis, but the bulge of Jon Hamm was quite noticeable.

And Bon Jovi continued to supply a jumping off point for more memories of my youth.

The man sits at the bar, smoking. He orders an Old-fashioned. Canadian Club. A beautiful woman approaches and requests a light. “Are you alone?” she asks. He looks up at her, and the shot fades out. Thus ended Season Five of ‘Mad Men’ last year. Tomorrow it returns, and just in time; my mind was almost made into mush by all the Real Housewives programming I’ve had in the interim.

‘Mad Men’ is the best show on television right now. (And I can honestly say that as it’s the only show I’m watching right now.) Apart from its sleek 60’s style and period-piece authenticity, the characters are complex and real enough to resonate today, and never more-so than in the protagonist. Don Draper may be surrounded by beautiful women, powerful men, and all the creative freedom in the world, but he remains almost-heartbreakingly alone. A cigarette and an Old-fashioned will only ever hide that, no more. Too few have the strength and audacity to answer the ‘Are you alone?’ question affirmatively. Those of us who do, well… we need all the smoke we can muster.

Whether it’s the rotten cold weather we’ve had of late, or something deeper driving it, I’m finding it difficult to get excited, or even minimally inspired, to move on some home improvement projects. I’m equally unmotivated to get started on the gardens. Contrary to popular belief, I’m a pretty sensitive soul, and those around me have a direct effect upon my bearing and mood. When Andy is down, I tend to follow suit. In my case, it removes any sort of enthusiasm for a new couch and family room color, negates any thrill in the coming gardening season, and just makes me want to lounge around and do nothing.

To combat that, I picked up some paint chips for the family room, and browsed the Crate & Barrel catalog for ideas. I started reading ‘The Backyard Parables: Lessons on Gardening, and Life’ by Margaret Roach. And I may even shave my beard off. A change is needed. A re-boot is required. A new way…

Snippets of song lyrics… wet & a mess… lying naked on the floor… they cannot see me naked, these things they go away, replaced by every day… it’s in your eyes… I want you to remind me…

We made it through another Holy Week, by the Grace of God (and a little help from Jesus, I’m sure). It was a week of new Easter traditions, as the seasons slowly inched toward a slightly warmer shift. Changes were afoot at work as well, portending a very different spring/summer at the office. But let’s not talk about work here – this is the place for fun and frivolity, so let’s get back to that grind.

Spring cleaning got underway at the Boston condo, and I got down on my hands and knees to polish things up right spiffy-like. Years of wear and tear were left on two rolls of paper towels, so hopefully those of us who stay there will be a little more careful with keeping things clean (sheets included).

Cherries were forced and feet were fetishized, and the youth of America proved both hopeless and hopeful.

Hunks weren’t always of the Day, but they were represented nobly, and nakedly, by the likes of Nick Beyeler and, as befitting the season, Jesus Luz.

To make amends for the slimmer hunk offerings, I gave you this mega post of shirtless male celebrities. I think that should more than make up for it.

Finally, it wouldn’t be an Easter Sunday without that frightening Easter bunny shot taken when I was a kid. This year, however, we had a little twist, as I exonerated thirty-plus years of Easter trauma with one fell poof of a rabbit’s tail.

Over thirty years ago, I had a run-in with a scary Easter Rabbit. It was documented on film for all-time and I post it every year for the enjoyment of those who get a kick out of my suffering (there are many). On this Easter, Andy and I had brunch at the Fairmont Copley Plaza’s Oak Long Bar + Kitchen, so I felt safe that we wouldn’t be running into any frightening ladies or gentlemen in a bunny suit. I was wrong. Something told me to start with a Bloody Mary instead of a Mimosa, and I heeded that inner voice. Good call, as before our food even arrived I saw the big furry white thing as soon as it entered the room. It began making its way down the long bar to where Andy and I were seated. I could have beat a hasty retreat through the back door, but I held fast to my chair and willed myself the power to nod my head as it passed quickly by. I finished my drink and congratulated myself on surviving.

When we finished with the meal, I made the foolish suggestion that we walk through the ornate lobby on our way out. As we neared the exit, there stood the bunny in our path. Andy said it was my last chance. I circled the white suit, faced his vacant eyes straight-on, and said, “Would you mind if I took a picture with you? I had a very traumatic Easter bunny moment in my childhood, and I’m still working through it.” His/her attendants laughed, Andy snapped the picture, and we were on our way. Childhood exorcism accomplished. (And now I’m feeling quite empowered, so just wait until you see what I do to Santa’s lap this year…)

On this glorious day of resurrection, a look back at what came before – particularly the in-between, better known as ‘Bardo: The Dream Surreal’. One of the most recent works to be added to The Projects page, ‘Bardo‘ was originally posted in April of 2012. I was reminded of some of its moon shots with the recent full-phase of the moon seen in these photos. ‘Bardo‘ has a few tremendous lunar glimpses as well, a perfect match to its surreal theme.  Check it out when you get through with your ham and Easter candy – it’s a puzzling little dreamscape.