Are you watching the January 6 Hearings?
Because you absolutely should be.
This is our country’s history, happening and unfurling before our very eyes.
It may be the last gasp of democracy as we know it.
If you don’t think that’s worth some of your attention, don’t be surprised if your vote, and your voice, are one day gone.
The pesky destroyer of our petunia patch was caught in the act of more destruction, as seen in this GIF and photo of a snack of ornamental sweet potato leaves. Cheeky and bold, this bunny has captured our hearts, and Andy and I are helpless to do anything but watch with amusement and adoration, even as it takes out half of the garden. Some things are worth sacrificing for a little joy, and a couple of petunias and a sweet potato vine are a small price to pay for such entertainment. And the culprit is so tiny and cute, who can be mad about it?
This scarlet bloom looks like a warning signal of distress, as our small patch of petunias has been rendered practically bare by the baby rabbit who is growing up in our backyard. But the bunny is so cute we can’t bring ourselves to get that mad, even as it strips our sugar snap peas a little more each night.
For now, I have to come up with a new plan for this rather prominent garden space, which I wanted to be filled with color but is thus far filled only with bare dirt and the beginnings of weeds which the rabbit naturally doesn’t seem to like.
It’s been five years since Andy’s Dad passed away, so on that anniversary we went out to dinner to honor the day, as Andy said it would be what his Dad wanted. This Balinese lemonade was my way of toasting a father-in-law who had always been exceptionally kind to me. Andy had the cocktail special of the day at his favorite restaurant, and we had a lovely dinner remembering his Dad.
As we kick off Father’s Day weekend, it is a good time to remember the Dads who are no longer with us.
Our almost-annual BroSox Adventure is happily upon us, as Skip and I head to Boston for a Red Sox game. I’m not sure who is looking forward to it more, as a couple of weeks ago we met up for some pre-planning sushi and he expressed his excitement over it as the traditional mark for the end of a trying school year. I’m certainly in need of an escape too, so this comes at a good time.
Aside from that, our expectations are different and more relaxed than they were eight years ago when we started this fun tradition. Since then, we’ve grown and evolved and so have our trips. Last year we branched out with a fancy night at the Mandarin Oriental, which I enjoyed a bit more than Skip, and it made for a memorable adventure. This year we are going back to basics, returning to the condo as our home base, and possibly venturing out to the seaport area for something new. Stay tuned for that recap…
Helming the fabulous film ‘To Decadence With Love, Thanks for Everything!’ Stuart Sox earns his first Dazzler of the Day crowning thanks to his directorial efforts documenting a trip to Southern Decadence. Check out the trailer for this cinematic extravaganza below.
I absolutely love a sweet treat after lunch or dinner, and that damn Trader Joe’s has plenty of options on that front. (Too many, quite frankly, and it takes a bit of discipline to avoid getting hooked on some delicious thing that’s only found there.) Case in point is the Ube Tea Cookie as seen here. These bite-size beauties incorporate the purple ube tuber (shout-out to the Philippines!) and some sugar and shortbread for a powdered puff of delicious sweetness.
These are little enough to have a few at a time and not be a total glutton (assuming you can keep it to a few) and they are perfect for an afternoon snack with some tea.
And while they are sweet, they are not too sweet, even with that glorious coating of powdered sugar. The older I get, the more I like my sweet-treats on the not-too-sweet side, which makes these little cookies practically perfect.
Concluding this little homage to ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’, a cloud of feathers lends fantasy and freedom to the caged bird motif. A choker of pearls closes tightly around the throat – another cage, another coat of prettiness. Floating on a cloud of sheer ruffles, inhabiting a character like Blanche DuBois is now merely an exercise of play and passing an hour. Such glamorous trappings, such rotten interiors – who could sustain such a real life?
“I’ve been on to you from the start! Not once did you pull any wool over this boy’s eyes! You come in here and sprinkle the place with powder and spray perfume and cover the light bulb with a paper lantern, and lo and behold the place has turned into Egypt and you are the Queen of the Nile! Sitting on your throne and swilling down my liquor!” ~ Tennessee Williams
“What I mean is – he thinks I’m sort of – prim and proper, you know! I want to deceive him enough to make him – want me.” ~ Tennessee Williams
“It’s dark in here… I don’t think I ever seen you in the light… What it means is I’ve never had a real good look at you.” ~ Tennessee Williams
“Yes, I had many intimacies with strangers… So I came here. There was nowhere else I could go. I was played out… and I met you. You said you needed somebody. Well, I needed somebody, too. I thanked God for you, because you seemed to be gentle – a cleft in the rock of the world that I could hide in!” ~ Tennessee Williams
Turner Movie Classics was playing ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ the other night, and I was once again drawn into the magnificent madness of Tennessee Williams, and the delicate treatise on the cruelty and kindness of humanity. The brute aesthetic of Marlon Brando’s Stanley Kowalski was echoed in this blog post, because it’s fun to get dirty for a photo shoot, while the rough and tumble shower scene was re-interpreted in this slightly-racy sequence. Trying on the guise of brutal physicality, of dense and impenetrable hardness, was a fun step out of my comfort zone, and I always intended to do an interpretation of Vivien Leigh’s Blanche DuBois, which is where most people assume my natural inclinations lie. But that seemed too easy, too simple, to don a wig and some macabre eye-make-up, and the truth is I simply don’t make a very pretty woman, of any age to be painfully honest. That doesn’t mean I can’t embrace my own middle-aged manhood and cloak it in feathers and ruffles and sheet gossamer wonder. In fact, that sort of hybridization is what has fueled this blog for almost two decades.
Rather than a recreation, as I’m far too old to even approximate Blanche DuBois (who was actually only around 30, and already being urged out to pasture) I’m simply luxuriating in her silk and satin trappings – all feathers and lace and pearls. As a gay man, I empathize with Blanche’s race against time, when being attractive is currency and a means of survival. When that begins to fade, a certain panic sets in if you haven’t devised a life apart from appearance, or if your appearance has been your only way to succeed. And though I do not know that level of attractiveness, I know the chilling effects of age. We will all know that, sooner or later.
“I never was hard or self-sufficient enough. When people are soft – soft people have got to shimmer and glow – they’ve got to put on soft colors, the colors of butterfly wings, and put a… paper lantern over the light… It isn’t enough to be soft. You’ve got to be soft and attractive. And I… I’m fading now! I don’t know how much longer I can turn the trick.” ~ Tennessee Williams
“Yes, I have had many meetings with strangers.” ~ Tennessee Williams
“I don’t go in for that stuff… compliments to women about their looks. I never met a dame yet didn’t know she was good looking or not without being told. And I’ve met some of them who give themselves credit for more than they’ve got.” ~ Tennessee Williams
“We’ve made enchantment!” ~ Tennessee Williams
If her impressive body of Broadway work wasn’t enough to merit this honor, her turn on last night’s Tony Awards certainly cements the deal. This is Joaquina Kalukango, who also won a Tony Award last night for her soul-seering work in ‘Paradise Road’. Today she earns this Dazzler of the Day, and is no doubt on her way to more compelling accolades.
Having worked in Human Resources for the better part of 17 years, I’ve learned a few tips and tricks for how to get noticed and hired, and more importantly a couple of big warning flags on how not to get hired. One of the main things that most employers DO NOT look for is a criminal record based on a potential candidate’s crossing state borders with riot gear and masks with the alleged intent to intimidate, harass, and terrorize innocent attendees at a Pride event. The other thing I’ve read about is that some employers do research on their potential employees to see if they were, say, involved in some white supremacy bullshit, because that’s rarely a good look for any company. Hate just doesn’t sell like it used to. Finally, one last word – the internet is pretty much forever, and once someone’s name is out there, even in the smallest most insignificant blog, it can be connected to a heinous act of hatred far into the future.
With that said, here are the names of the 31 individuals, some of whom are purportedly part of a white supremacist group called the Patriot Front, who packed themselves into a U-haul to attend and allegedly wreak havoc on a Pride event in Idaho. They came from all over the country, and now their names will be forever tied to hatred and the specter of possible violence. Hire accordingly, America.
And for further info, here are a few links to the background. One doesn’t plan something like this without wanting a bit of notice, so let’s shine a light on who they are.
Jared Michael Boyce, Nathan David Brenner, Colton Michael Brown, Josiah Daniel Buster, Mishael Joshua Buster, Devin Wayne Center, Dylan Carter Corio, Winston North Durham, Joseph Garret Garland, Branden Mitchel Haney, Richard Jacob Jessop, James Michael Johnson, James Julius Johnson, Connor Patrick Moran, Kieran Padraig Morris, Lawrence Alexander Norman, Justin Michael Oleary, Cameron Kathan Pruitt, Forrest Clark Rankin, Thomas Ryan Rousseau, Conor James Ryan, Spencer Thomas Simpson, Derek Joseph Smith, Alexander Nicholai Sisenstein, Dakota Ray Tabler, Steven Derrick Tucker, Wesley Evan Van Horn, Mitchell Frederick Wagner, Nathaniel Taylor Whitfield, Robert Benjamin Whitted, Graham Jones Whitsom
My childhood hero Lee Bailey once described June as the month in which the roses were practically tumbling off the trellises. Bailey’s book ‘Country Flowers’ turned me into a gardener at the ripe old age of twelve, and it’s been a comforting passion of mine ever since. In much of that time, however, roses were not something I grew very often. Andy had a rose garden when I met him, back when he had a yard of good air circulation, and summers seemed less hot and humid. We’ve tried a few roses in our current backyard – a Peace rose that came back but never quite produced what it had promised, a couple of Knockouts that did produce, but inexplicably refused to come back after one difficult winter, and a Rosa rugosa which is doing a little too well and must not be reined in. In gardening there is often no happy medium, but still we try… and a rose is worth the effort.
While the workplace has been kicking my ass, and the world around us ignites further divisive explosions, summer is creeping up on me. I need to slow things down and refocus on what’s truly important. That means pausing to appreciate the Chinese dogwood trees in full bloom now, as the peonies finish their spectacular show, and the hydrangeas just begin their longer run of pastel pink to see us into the official summer season. We are almost there, and it’s time to take it easy.
A scent for the crux of spring and summer is anything but imaginary.
A simple guide on how to speak my language.
It’s such a fine line between a scrotal sac and Kim Kardashian’s butthole.
Our long-awaited return to Ogunquit began in beautiful form.
A walk along the Marginal Way worked to restore the soul.
A good-night to Ogunquit… until next time.
Dazzlers of the Day included Ariana Grande, David Hogg, Bowen Yang, James Scully, and Miles Davis Moody.
One of my favorite spots at the Scotch Hill Inn was the front porch, which wrapped around the front and side of the house, and offered a vantage point that looked over the street and town below. It was where the inn’s magnificent breakfasts were served each morning, and provided a place to rest and relax. On our last afternoon I found it happily vacant, and I set up shop reading a book and watching the day go by. From behind the shade of a viburnum about to reveal its blooms, I looked out at the steady stream of dedicated beach goers returning from their day at the shore. They simultaneously amused and impressed me – their backs strapped with packs and beach chairs and rolled towels, some with tents and surfboards and other paraphernalia that looked as ridiculous to me as it must have seemed natural to them. It reminded me of eating crab legs, which I never do – so much work and effort for such little results.
That said, I adored the beach – though never to the extent that you would see a chair on my back as I made my way very publicly through town. I’ll make a fool of myself in many other ways. Andy and I had already made our pilgrimage to Ogunquit Beach, walking there with some towels earlier in the day before the rush of the crowds, and setting up in a relatively secluded space where we could lie about in peace, listening to the ocean waves, and occasionally approach its frigid water. (There were warnings in the weather reports about how cold it was, despite the heat and sun right above its surface.)
We don’t often get to enjoy a warm beach day this early in the season, but this year we had a whole Sunday of sun to enjoy its seductive charms. Andy loves the beach even more than I do, and I was just happy to join him there, letting the sand warm our bare feet, letting the ocean work its magic and ease any tension or worry that might have remained with us.
We took a new route back, exploring a stretch of beautiful homes we’d never passed before, new delights that proved no matter how well you think you may know a place, there is always more to see and discover, proof that we still have more to seek and more to find.
Back on the porch, I eased into the last afternoon of this little trip, intent on inhabiting the moment, being fully present and drinking in all of the joy and peace around me.
After dinner, Andy suggested we walk into town one last time, and without words or plans, we both instinctively made our way to the start of the Marginal Way, back to where our first journey in Ogunquit had begun so many years ago. The gardens there were once again in full bloom, the blues and purples echoing the azure descent of dusk. We walked along for a bit, finding a place that looked back over the sunset and the water. Andy seemed to want to hold onto the moment as much as I did, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over me as we slowly started back.
The next morning we had our final delicious breakfast – Eggs Benedict for me and a pecan waffle for Andy – then set about to finish packing. It’s strange the way sadness personifies the success of a vacation, but strange or not, there was that familiar tinge of sorrow as we loaded up the car from our first vacation in Ogunquit in five years. We didn’t want it to end, but were happy to have found our way back.
Until we return again…
It took about one full day before we found our footing again. Returning to a favored place after some time away is often slightly disconcerting. Things are never quite as one remembers them, in ways good and bad. Certain places felt smaller and less impressive, others revealed a beauty I never noticed before. One thing that remained as gorgeous and powerful as ever was the Marginal Way, and we took our time walking along its meandering seaside route.
I still remember the first time we made this journey, on our first vacation together almost twenty-two years ago. The same rocks, and many of the same trees, remain intact. Thinking of all the waves that had broken over this space since then felt dizzying, and ruminating about all those years was equally daunting, in a good way.
We’d seen this sea in all manners of moods: wild and thrashing about, calm and placidly gentle, violent and fiery, happy and sparkling, gray and somber, bright and invigorating – and always beautiful, always life-affirming. How something so changeable could simultaneously be so stalwart and stable remains an exquisite mystery to me.
We’ve changed too over these last two decades, and like the gnarled and tough junipers that formed a little protected cove in our favorite part of the trail, we’ve been worn down and aged in ways that reveal our travails and our worth.
We looked out into the Atlantic and watched a boat in the distance, wondering at the other souls on their own journeys…
