Homage to A Streetcar, Homage to Desire ~ Part 2

It may come as a surprise that in elementary school the subject that I hated most was ‘Language’ ~ that’s what we used to call English or grammar. It was the subject in which we would have to write, and I loathed it. Math came much more easily to me, and science was much more interesting. Words and grammar were too abstract and dry for me to grasp. While it was a chore, I usually excelled at writing, and like most things we initially fight against and reject, it eventually became my cherished love. That didn’t happen until high school, however, when we finally got to read some good shit, starting with ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ and, later that freshman year, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire.’ I didn’t realize that it was a love of language and words and how adroitly they could bring us into other realms that was working its magic ~ I simply loved the escapism of a book or play. Whenever I would lie awake in bed at night worrying about the next day of school, I could open a book and escape, albeit briefly, into a different place where I only had to observe and experience. I didn’t have to talk to anyone, I didn’t have to engage, I had only to watch and feel and travel safely as spectator. Wracked by social anxiety and depression, I found safety in the world of the written word. It didn’t even matter that so much of those words escaped my notice, that so many layers of meaning went unnoticed and unprocessed by my young mind. It was enough to simply exist somewhere other than within the reality in which I found myself.

It was fantasy.

It was play.

It was survival.

When the brutality of being a fourteen-year-old gay boy became too much ~ and simply existing in those days sometimes felt like too much ~ the words of a writer like Tennessee Williams called to me, beckoning me to keep going, to keep pushing into a world that might one day offer succor and salvation, even when it felt like no one was there to help.

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“You haven’t said a word about my appearance… Daylight never exposed so total a ruin.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“Some things are not forgivable. Deliberate cruelty is not forgivable. It is the most unforgivable thing in my opinion, and the one thing in which I have never, ever been guilty.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“When I was sixteen, I made the discovery — love. All at once and much, much too completely. It was like you suddenly turned a blinding light on something that had always been half in shadow, that’s how it struck the world for me.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“These are love-letters, yellowing with antiquity, all from one boy…..Poems a dead boy wrote. I hurt him the way that you would like to hurt me, but you can’t! I’m not young and vulnerable anymore.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“…most writers, and most other artists, too, are primarily motivated in their desperate vocation by a desire to find and to separate truth from the complex of lies and evasions they live in, and I think that this impulse is what makes their work not so much a profession as a vocation, a true calling.” ~  Tennessee Williams

“Physical beauty is passing – a transitory possession – but beauty of the mind, richness of the spirit, tenderness of the heart – I have all these things – aren’t taken away but grow! Increase with the years!” ~ Tennessee Williams

{See Part One here.}

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Homage to A Streetcar, Homage to Desire ~ Part 1

“A fire smokes the most when you start pouring water on it.” ~ Tennessee Williams

The first time I read ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ by Tennessee Williams I was in high school.

The last time I saw the movie was a few days ago.

In some ways I think I understand it less now than I did then.

This is a good thing.

True wisdom doesn’t recognize itself.

Not in its own time. 

It’s a testament to the power of this work by Tennessee Williams that it’s still so resonant. It survives and thrives because it lives on so many levels. When one tunnel of thought or analysis is exhausted, another reveals itself below or above it. In the end the labyrinthine maze is too complex for me to fully grasp even after repeated readings and viewings. In fact, it seems to grow more complicated, more dense, more beautifully intertwined with itself as the years pass. Maybe it’s hitting closer to home, and I shrink away from the truths it posits on aging, the desperation that comes from loneliness, the warped way this life erodes innocence and purity.

The slow and subtle diminishing of morals.

The insidiously seductive tentacles of desire.

The brutal spark of unexpected violence.

The world isn’t kind to sensitive creatures.

No…

The world isn’t kind. 

“You see I still have that awful vanity about my looks even now that my looks are slipping!” ~ Tennessee Williams

“What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“I don’t believe in “original sin.” I don’t believe in “guilt.” I don’t believe in villains or heroes – only right or wrong ways that individuals have taken, not by choice but by necessity or by certain still-uncomprehended influences in themselves, their circumstances, and their antecedents.
This is so simple I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m sure it’s true. In fact, I would bet my life on it! And that’s why I don’t understand why our propaganda machines are always trying to teach us, to persuade us, to hate and fear other people on the same little world that we live in.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“Sorrow makes for sincerity, I think.” ~ Tennessee Williams

I don’t want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to people. I misrepresent things to them. I don’t tell the truth, I tell what ought to be the truth. And if that’s sinful, then let me be punished for it!” ~ Tennessee Williams

“There’s been some progress since then, such things as art, as poetry, as music ~ in some kinds of people some tenderer feelings have had some little beginning! That we have got to make grow! And cling to, and hold as our flag in this dark march in whatever it is we’re approaching. Don’t hang back with the brutes!” ~ Tennessee Williams

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Little Star of Blue

Suzie’s childhood home had grand swaths of these little spring bulbs growing wild at the edge of their property. One Easter Sunday we found ourselves out in the midst of their bloom and it was a sight redolent of spring in its purest form. Their size is such that they require a mass planting to make much of an impact, but when examined up close, just one bloom is a thing of beauty. A lesson that sometimes it’s worth taking a closer look at the world around us. There is so much that’s so easy to miss.

The advantage that this particular bulb has is its right-out-of-the-starting-gate blooming time. Starved for the least sign of life, an actual bloom this early in the season gets roundly celebrated, the hype and hoopla in exact antithesis of its size and eventual impact. In just a month or two it will be all but forgotten, its green straps of leaves tattered and expiring even as they provide the juice and sustenance for next year’s bloom. Nature is ruthless that way, and we would do well to learn by her example. Celebrate the moment at hand. Nothing lasts forever, especially not spring. Though it will come back again…

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Due Lipa’s ‘Future Nostalgia’: The Soundtrack to Spring/Summer

I just heard the sound of the future and it is funky. This is the kind of party music we need right now. It’s been way too long since I got excited about a proper music album. While I enjoyed Madonna’s last summer opus ‘Madame X’ it fell short of finding the joy in former glories like ‘Ray of Light‘ or even ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor‘ and its somewhat dour themes were at odds with its summer release time. Far better suited for spring and summer fun is the latest from Dua Lipa, and I spent the other day throwing a dance-party for one while isolating in home. This is going to be the soundtrack for spring transitioning into summer ~ I’m calling it now ~ and ‘Cool’ may very well be the main theme for the upcoming sunny season. We shall see. In the meantime, I’m all sorts of inspired by this album ~ a practically perfect selection of pop music the likes of which I can’t recall enjoying in a very long time.

Opening title track ‘Future Nostalgia’ sets the tone of the aural adventure to come ~ this is the funky future with a knowing nod to the pop-candy of the past. It starts on a strong note, and the cool thing is that it doesn’t once let up (the 38 minutes actually feels way too short for such brilliance). Stand-out tracks include the funkalicious ‘Break My Heart’, ~the giddy abandon of ‘Physical’, and the earworm sample in ‘Love Againâ’. That Tik Tok classic ‘Don’t Start Now’ has already cemented this album’s must-have status. She gets deep too, even if it’s coated in glossy pop genius, as in closing track ‘Boys Will Be Boys’. And I dare anyone to sit still for ‘Levitating’ or ‘Hallucinate’ ~ because this forty-four year old was bopping about his make-shift home office. Dare we say that we have a Madonna-in-the-making for 2020? I’ll go out on a limb and say this one shows the same promise of a certain 80’s street urchin.

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Duck Pool Update: How I Marked My Territory

They came back.

Part of me had hoped that they would.

But that also meant they were serious.

Like a shopper who returns to a certain pricey coat. You know they mean business.

Unfortunately, we weren’t selling the land by our unopened pool, even if it looked run-down and abandoned. So when the ducks returned to nest I knew we had to dissuade them from setting up permanent camp here. Andy warned that there would be a big problem if they nested by the pool. Aside from the nastiness of having our pool used as a bathroom and feeding ground for waterfowl, there was the more frightening notion of having to navigate a backyard where eggs might be guarded by a pair of protective wild animals.

Andy advised looking to see if they had started building a nest, and when I made a quick examination of the area, sure enough, there was the small carved-out beginning of a nest dug in the ground beneath the safe prickles of a juniper. It was a cozy little nook right beside the pool and an old bench, and if it had been any further along in its assembly, neither Andy nor myself would have had the heart to put a stop to it. At this early stage, however, I had time to more humanely convince them to move elsewhere. This wasn’t available real estate.

My mind raced back to the birds that always seemed to make a nest in my Mom’™s hanging plants. Without fail, a robin would set up a nursery in one of those geraniums, and then we’d be battling a territorial red-breasted beast and watching from a distance as the plants wilted. When learning about birds and their nesting habits as a kid, I distinctly remember being told that if people touched a nest or its eggs, the bird would abandon the enterprise entirely and the eggs wouldn’t hatch. Following through with that train of thought, I figured maybe these ducks would be averse to sticking around if they felt threatened by the presence of a human. I did what this particular human would do when marking his territory.

Opening the door to the backyard, I startled the ducks out of the pool and they flew over the fence with agitated quacks. I walked toward the juniper where the nest was still mostly unfinished – it was really only an indentation in the ground. How exactly did I go about marking my territory? Well, let’s think about this. How do most animals mark their space? I reached into my pants and took out what I needed to do what I had to do.

One pocket held a bottle of Viktor & Rolf’s Spicebomb cologne, while the other contained Madonna’s Naked: Truth or Dare fragrance. I sprayed a bit of both on and around the nesting area. How on earth do you think I would leave a mark?

My hope is that they prefer Tom Ford’s Private Blends and won’t want to put up with more mainstream scents. I’ll keep you posted on whether it works…

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A Gratuitous Jason Derulo Post

Jason Derulo has appeared here most recently (and perhaps most notably) in this underwear bulge post. Clearly, he needs to appear again. 

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Liquid Lunch Break

My days of a ladies-who-lunch cocktail extravaganza are long gone – actually, they never were, since I didn’t have the resources or lifestyle to go drinking at lunch every day (one of few regrets), but these are desperate times calling for desperate measures. And so I give you this drink for the noonish hour – and it’s safe to have even if you are, like me, working from home these days.

This mocktail is something I’ve been working on for several years, and I think I finally cracked the code. Previous attempts were too tart, too sweet, too pungent, too bland – the whole Goldilocks dilemma. This time around I’m noting exactly how I did it, because it turned out beautifully.

It begins with about two generous tablespoons of honey in a small glass. To this I add about ¾ cup scalding hot water, three slices of fresh ginger (skin removed) and the juice of half a lime. Stir well. Pour over a cocktail shaker of ice and shake it like the Spice Girls. This is a simple syrup of sorts, minus all the boiling, and made healthier from the honey instead of sugar. When it’s cold, I pour enough of it to fill about a quarter of whatever cocktail glass I’m using. To this I add a favorite citrus seltzer of choice – in my case it was grapefruit seltzer. Garnish with some lime and it’s finished. (In simpler terms, the ratio is one part of the ginger-lime-honey syrup to three parts seltzer.) You could get fancier and more refined by boiling the syrup for a bit to bring out more of the ginger, but I prefer this gentler version. The days are staying lighter for longer – a more delicate touch is welcome.

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Unexpected Visitors in the Midst of Isolation

Looking out into the backyard, I spotted the two intruders immediately. Trampling a stand of fountain grass that I was about to remove that very day, a pair of ducks waddled in the direction of the pool. I quickly called out to Andy, as we had never experienced such visitors. “They’re going into the pool!” I heard Andy cry from the bedroom. The pair smoothly made the transition from land to water, gliding into our dirty pool, ravaged from the winter with leaves and detritus and even a floating flower pot. The ducks didn’t seem to mind, playfully diving beneath the water and ruffling their feathers in seeming delight.

I grabbed my phone and rushed from the dining room to the family room, where I could get a better look at them. Pulling the drapes open, I watched as the female floated in place and locked her eyes with mine, sensing my movement and gaze. The male swirled about, still splashing in the water and opening and closing his beak in rapid movements. In her eyes, the female appeared contemplative and doleful, keeping a watch on me. She relaxed when I didn’t move, joining her mate in some splashing and underwater foraging for food.

I stayed there a bit longer, amused by these springtime visitors – the first of their kind that I’d ever seen stop by our pool. Mostly we get cardinals and blue jays and yellow finches, along with the dreaded grackles and robins. Ducks were an unexpected treat. They reminded me of the waterfowl at the Boston Public Garden. It was a welcome reminder.

Going back to interior concerns, I left the ducks to their own devices and when I checked back a few minutes later they had already departed. I felt an unwarranted tinge of loss. Maybe we were hungry for any sort of interaction in these isolated times. I went about the day, and an hour or so later I looked out and they were back in the pool. A quick flash of happy relief was soon replaced by a nagging fear that they might make a nesting spot in our backyard which would not have been good. I didn’t have to worry for long – they soon departed for good a few minutes later. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the flash of them flying over our fence, and then the last ripples in the empty pool of where they had just been.

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Autumn Joy in Spring

One of the star performers of any perennial bed or border is Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ which keeps its succulent wintergreen foliage fresh throughout the summer and begins a long season of bloom with a dusty pink start in August that goes all the way through October. The dried flower-heads retain their architectural form through the winter, which makes for a charming visage when capped with snow. It’s one of the few plants with year-round visual interest, which has made them popular to the point of ubiquitous overuse. That doesn’t mar my feelings on them, however, so when I saw them poking these tender shoots out and testing the spring air, it made my heart leap. Another spring can now begin.

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Spring Rebounding: Before & After

This past weekend I finally got outside and cleaned up the bulk of our winter debris. Filled the typical forty lawn bags of all the dead leaves and branches and various junk that litters the landscape while the garden slumbered. It’s awake now, but it’s still early. Groggy and shaking off sleep, the earth yawns and yearns to sleep a bit more. I get the same feeling on Wednesday mornings. Or whatever day this is. I seem to be losing track.

Here is a pair of before and after shots, and while the photo doesn’t do the scope and work justice, please note that the main stand of fountain grass in the first picture is 12 feet tall. That’s over twice as tall as me. This was no cake-walk, and there was definitely no cake at the end of the ordeal either. But it’s all part of the process, all part of the plan. I’m happy as a clam knowing that spring has arrived, and time in the garden is a valuable kind of therapy of its own. Cutting down each stalk was a ritual of cleansing and rebirth. Out with the old and in with the new. The earth, when left to her own devices, takes care of herself.

As a gift for my efforts, the first jonquils of the season deigned to bloom as I brought the bags to the curb. Pausing to crouch down and inhale their fragrance – that glorious scent of spring that has yet to be successfully replicated in any perfume or cologne – I remembered springs that have come before, and I allowed myself a bittersweet smile.

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Today’s Grocery Store Avoidance Project

Planning to indulge in another batch of babinka, I found that our cupboards were bare of sweetened condensed milk, so I looked to the interwebs for lessons on a proper substitute. Turns out a substitute is entirely unnecessary, as I can make the damn thing legit from milk and sugar. (A pretty high ‘DUH’ factor is present in that realization.) Am I the only one shocked and awed by the fact that we can make our own sweetened condensed milk?

It’s as simple as heating up 2 cups of milk and 2/3 cup sugar on low until the sugar dissolves (I’ve read either low fat or whole milk works fine) and then bringing it up to medium for a gentle simmer for 35 – 40 minutes. (Don’t stir or shake the mix while it simmers or some crazy crystal shit will happen. Hey, I’m just relaying what magic I read.) Pour into a heat safe storage container and let cool. It keeps for a few weeks – which also works to extend the life of milk. Bonus!

We’ll get to homemade buttermilk in our next Grocery Store Avoidance Project. Sounds like it’s just as exciting, and perhaps even easier.

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Tom Daley: Shirtless Lunch Break

It wouldn’t have been my choice for a sofa pattern, but I’m not Tom Daley or his husband. Besides, it works for photos like these, in which Mr. Daley illustrates some home workout exercises. And doing it shirtless guarantees that people will pay attention. If you’re like me, and the only exercise involves lifting Easter candy to your mouth or shaking the remote as it runs out of batteries, then you need this too. Or we can just look and wish and hope that when this ordeal is over we haven’t gained the quarantine fifteen. If you like this post, visit this Tom Daley page for a lot more skin-happy links

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Business on Top, Party Down Below

This is a time for serving Out-of-Office Realness, and I am here to serve you. For anyone who’s ever done a video conference from home, I know you have been in this situation. Thankfully I have not, as of yet, had to do a video conference – I’d be a nervous wreck. And I certainly wouldn’t do it in my underwear. No way. The camera would pan down, I would inadvertently stand up, or some other impossible scenario would play out just in the exact fashion that would reveal my Tom Ford leopard print boxer briefs.

I prefer to do the revealing on my own terms, and in the best possible lighting.

This fun shoot was done on-the-fly, in the basement office, at the end of a long day. In fact, I’ve been putting on fancy silk and sequin ensembles to work from home during office hours – ask Andy and my co-workers. It’s my own way of keeping sane and inspired. Also, if I stayed in my regular pajamas and robe, I’d feel sick and/or lazy – two states not conducive to doing good work. Visuals and atmosphere are important to me. A look can do more to change my mood than an emotional pane. Maybe that makes me more superficial than the average bear, and I’m cool with that. I’ve learned how to turn it to my advantage over the years.

This is also a form of play, and in these dark days of oppressive news and housebound tension, we need more play. Try on your hidden hats. Pull out your fanciest gown. Brush off that formal wedding suit. Dress it up. For no reason whatsoever. As kids we used to do this all the time. We played. We dressed up. We got silly. And we had fun. Way more fun than we have as adults.

Hang on to your hats – the lessons keep on coming.

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Recapping the Early Wilderness of Spring

The skunky-scented fritillaria seen here – more commonly called the Crown Imperial thanks to its impressive floral display – poked through the ground in our backyard, setting off the beginnings of the spring season here in upstate New York. it came just in time, as our isolation was just starting to wear on me. I got out and managed to fill twenty five big lawn bags of the detritus and debris of an entire winter season. While my middle-aged body recuperates (is there any Vic’s vaporub in this place?) we shall recap and provide some links to all that you may have missed. Mentholated vapors take me away…

It began with a very happy anniversary: the 10th birthday of my niece and nephew

The battle between the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the material, and the sarcastically-blissful life of straddling two extremes. 

A pair of kissing cardinals visited our front yard.

We finally went full-frontal here, for really real. 

Spring can really hang you up the most

The erotically-inclined artwork of Michael Broderick

A Filipino desert recipe from my Mom: babinka.

The time to be neighborly is now. Right now. 

This is how solitude should smell

How ever did we get here? And where did my shirt go?

A damn fine cup of coffee, home-brewed.

Have you ever felt like nobody was there?

Lathering up in memories sparked by the Beekman Boys and ‘Aloe & Iris.’ 

Awakening to awareness: the first part. Our journey begins.

Hunks of the Day included Son HeChan, Max Parker, Chris Cuomo, Tristan Gatto, Collin Baja, and Austin Theory.

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Awakening to Awareness ~ Part One

“We don’t want to look, because if we do, we may change. We don’t want to look. If you look, you lose control of the life that you are so precariously holding together. And so in order to wake up, the one thing you need the most is not energy, or strength, or youthfulness, or even great intelligence. The one thing you need most of all is the readiness to learn something new. The chances that you will wake up are in direct proportion to the amount of truth you can take without running away. How much are you ready to take? How much of everything you’ve held dear are you ready to have shattered, without running away? How ready are you to think of something unfamiliar?” ~ Anthony de Mello

Book recommendations from friends I admire are some of the greatest gifts this world affords. For the most part they work out beautifully, because my friends have great taste (with the possible exception of the occasional item of clothing or a perm here and there). Word-wise, my friends can usually tell what sort of story I’ll enjoy. Such was the happy circumstance when Mary pointed me in the direction of Anthony de Mello and his book ‘Awareness’ which is really a written form of the lectures he gave over the years. Its message dovetails perfectly with all that’s been going on in my little life, as well as how my life fits into the larger world at work.

A significant melding of Christianity, Buddhism and Hinduism, ‘Awareness’ takes the most primal and basic tenets of all religions and excises the problematic notions of separation and literal readings, as well as the coded and human-warped ways of worship, returning to the essence and core of what love is and who God might be. More specifically, it offers a way to freedom from the binds of illusion and labels and our own unhappiness.

The tools on offer here are simple enough, but figuring out how to use them, and to implement that use in our lives, is the difficult part. Not all of us are looking to change. We hold onto illusions because they’re pretty and comfortable and ingrained into our beings from the moment we can begin to mentally formulate the world around us. Such things are woven into our make-up, and that’s not easy to change. But there are ways to do so, and it begins with being aware – truly aware – and taking stock of ourselves in as honest and blunt a way as possible. If you’re not ready to truly examine your life and all your own failings, then you may not get very far, but the knowledge and instructions are there if and when you’re ready. I’m doing my best to continue on this journey, and it’s definitely improved my life.

There is so much good stuff in the book that I’ll excerpt a few passages at a time and turn this into a mini-series. We’ve got the time, I’ve got the notion, and there’s no need for any further commotion.

“When your illusions drop, you’re in touch with reality at last, and believe me, you will never again be lonely, never again. Loneliness is not cured by human company. Loneliness is cured by contact with reality. Oh, I have so much to say about that. Contact with reality, dropping one’s illusions, making contact with the real. Whatever it is, it has no name. We can only know it by dropping what is unreal. You can only know what aloneness is when you drop your clinging, when you drop your dependency. But the first step toward that is that you see it as desirable. If you don’t see it as desirable, how will you get anywhere near it?

Think of the loneliness that is yours. Would human company ever take it away? It will only serve as a distraction. There’s an emptiness inside, isn’t there? And when the emptiness surfaces, what do you do? You run away, turn on the television, turn on the radio, read a book, search for human company, seek entertainment, seek distraction. Everybody does that. It’s big business nowadays, an organized industry to distract us and entertain us.” ~ Anthony de Mello

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