Doggy-Style, With Wood

While the weather this season has been mixed at best, the silver lining is that it’s provided ideal conditions for a long and showy performance of the spring bloomers, most strikingly our Chinese dogwood trees. Their buds, formed in the heat of late summer, survived the winter winds, and are now surrounded by the creamy white bracts you see here. (The actual flowers are tiny and unremarkable – think poinsettias.)

The Chinese dogwood has proven hardier than its American counterpart, resisting the dreaded diseases that have taken down so many of the latter. Their blooming time is a little later too, which is nice when the warm weather takes a little longer to arrive. (Ahem, I’m waiting…)

These glorious dogwoods join the peonies and lilacs in a stellar display during an otherwise drab stretch of rain. Like stars shooting through the sky, they provide a necessary dose of pizzazz and sparkle – a happy harbinger of the summer season.

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

In my rapidly-advancing age I find it much easier to say a kind word instead of a mean one. There is less effort involved. And when it comes to criticism, a little goes a long way. (In the words of Norma Desmond, “I can say anything I want with my eyes!”)

There is something powerful in not saying anything out loud if you have nothing nice to say. A literally-unsaid sort of power.

#TinyThreads

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Summer Come Lately

It’s fitting that this summer post is a day late, as the season seems to be lagging behind sun-wise too. It’s been reported that this weekend may turn that around, and I’m hoping that’s the case because Andy and I are due in Boston to see ‘Miss Saigon’  – and the heat simply has to be on in Saigon.

Summer in Boston is sometimes a mixed bag. There are wonderful days, and there are horrors. We haven’t had a stretch of overheated weather, so it shouldn’t be unbearable yet. (Once that heat gets down into the subway system it won’t let go until October.) For now, there are pleasant opportunities for sidewalk dining and evening strolling. It’s also perfect for walking to Sunday brunch.

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A Flower Party

The simple but potent beauty of a flower.

The way some openly smile, the way some blush,

the way some take their time, the way some rush.

A flower is reason enough for a party.

A flower is reason enough for a thrill.

We bloom and we bloom,

and we stave off the doom.

At the end of it all

If we’re lucky we zoom

to the high crest of the thing, to the ridge of the petals,

to the beard of an iris or the prick of a nettle.

Another story is about to be told

and the language of flowers is sometimes secret.

In whispered dew drops

Invisible perfume

In lace-caps and umbrels

Leaves pointed and smooth

An army of thorns

Bitter sting of a vine

Sweet fragrance entwined

The garden untamed,

the garden unclaimed

leave nothing unnamed

leave nothing unblamed

Marry antique roses

To wise, merry lavender

Floral mingling

Pungent tingling

The kind of mid-afternoon

Mid-summer

Ripe for a Flower Party…

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

My oboe teacher taught me a great many life lessons over the years, not the least of which was, “Don’t stick your butt out when you bow.”

It took some practice, but eventually I got it.

I got it good.

#TinyThreads

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Review: ‘Sunset Boulevard’ at the Mac-Haydn Theatre

‘Sunset Boulevard’ was one of the last of the big-budget Andrew Lloyd Webber ‘event’ musicals that came from Britain in the 1990’s, and as such its initial staging was overwhelmed by an incredible floating mansion set, as well as the behind-the-scenes fireworks of its casting. The latter is what any proper production of ‘Sunset’ depends upon, and having seen productions of this musical falter and fall completely apart when Norma Desmond is even the slightest bit mis-cast, it’s always a risky endeavor staging this show. After having the great fortune of seeing Glenn Close perform the show in both its original Broadway version and subsequent revival, as well as Betty Buckley during the original run, I’m admittedly spoiled when it comes to who dons Norma’s legendary turban.

While Ms. Desmond is indeed a showy part, it’s easily overdone, and demands more nuance and care than one might assume. It also requires some steely vocal chops, or the gift to act one’s way around them. Elizabeth Ward Land takes on the coveted role and she is gloriously up to the difficult task on all fronts. Her Norma is vixenish, vulnerable and vivaciously volatile. Even better, she has the vocal prowess to land the big arias without losing any complexity of character. After her entrance and the first act showstopper ‘With One Look’, fans of the musical can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that this production is in beautiful voice and gorgeously-bejeweled hands. 

The musical itself remains one of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s darker and more challenging works – its cynically-dour use-or-be-used aspects offering little hope in the brutal wake of Hollywood’s movie-making ferocity. Its two leads leave little to be loved, and the success of any production relies upon both Norma and Joe finding some bit of heart and heat to brighten the dim corridors of such craven survival. (It’s also one of the more problematic musical works: the basic premise of the original movie was that this silent-screen star failed as soon as the ‘talkies’ arrived – it defeats itself when you turn something that basically decries the voice into a musical that extols it.)

What carried the original show was star power and a few of those famous arias – witness the grandiosity of Buckley’s’As If We Never Said Goodbye’ or the wounded viciousness of Close’s final mad scene. When lesser actors took on the role of Norma, the high-points of the show were muted, yet it often worked to the production’s advantage because it became more even. The Mac-Haydn version finds a happy middle-ground, managing to both raise the company as a whole while shining a well-deserved spotlight on Ms. Land’s impressive performance. Without the gimmick of a floating mansion or the might of a 40-piece orchestra, this production relies on the talents of each troupe member and musician.

The quartet of lead characters work almost flawlessly to deliver a powerful telling of the story, with the notable highlight of James Zannelli as Max Von Mayerling, who ends up revealing himself as the emotional, if warped, heart of the story. As Joe Gillis, Pat Moran veers a little too close to snarky territory, slightly missing the mark of the more moving aspects of the character, but his voice is a potent force, and he had no trouble navigating the tricky time signature of the title tune. Rachel Pantazis adds a few new layers to the ingenue role she so winningly portrayed in the Mac-Hadyn’s recent production of ‘Curtains’ and as Betty Schaefer she luminously glows in one of the few hopeful moments of the show. 

With musical direction by David Marline, this production wisely focuses on the melodies at hand – the winsome ‘Perfect Year’ and catchy ‘The Lady’s Paying’ (along with its second act reprise ‘Eternal Youth is Worth a Little Suffering’). Mr. Moran and Ms. Pantazis even manage to turn the weakest song in the show (‘Too Much in Love To Care’) into a palatable showstopper. In the end, though, this story belongs to Norma Desmond, which is entirely as it should be, and Ms. Land delivers a performance worthy of the legendary lady herself ~ diva-like, endearing, and deliciously diabolical. 

{‘Sunset Boulevard’ runs through June 30 at the Mac-Haydn Theatre.}

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

It’s ok to walk with a shadow.

Some days it’s the only thing that proves the sun is out.

#TinyThreads

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Lionel Prichard

You see them everywhere, but you don’t really see them.

They are all around us, all of the time.

Taking our money, taking our tickets, taking our place in line.

They give too.

Steaming food on hot plates. An icy decaf frappucino. A pile of new clothes, security sensors carefully removed.

Filler people.

People like Lionel Prichard.

You don’t know Lionel Prichard, I’ll bet.

Lionel Pritchard is everyone.

And no one.

He is a monster, maybe make-believe, maybe frighteningly real.

He’s from outer-space.

Or the farm down the road.

In truth (whatever that might be these days) Lionel Prichard is a character in the movie ‘Signs’ – the alien movie by M. Night Shyamalan, which finds one forlorn family making its way through an alien invasion. Lionel Prichard is a blip on the screen – at first they mistakenly attribute the strange alien behavior to him, then he is later seen in the small-town army office filling out some form.

He is background noise.

A nuisance character who in this instance adds to the tension and mystery.

We know his full name, but that is all.

The world is filled with Lionel Prichards. We don’t notice them for the most part, unless they step out of their unconsciously-assigned roles. The barista who forgets you ordered decaf. The sales-person who neglects to take off the security sensor. The server who added the order of fries to your bill but never brought them to the table. As is too often the case, we only really notice when things go wrong.

Once in a happy while, the good comes through too. The unexpected pay-it-forward moment in the Starbucks drive-through. The sweet compliment of a stranger on the day you were feeling so shitty. The exquisite winks of grace from, dare I say it, God. Lionel Prichard is there in those moments.  

They are the people who populate the world, but whom we never take the time to meet. To know.

Each one of them is the main character of their own sitcom or drama or movie or musical.

Each one is the star of their own story.

Whenever I’m flummoxed by someone’s behavior – bad or good – I think of Lionel Prichard. Most of us, whether we realize it or not, are Lionel Prichard. We are nobody to the vast majority of other people on this planet. It is a blessing and a curse to be so startlingly insignificant. But to the few, to the elect chosen ones we honor with a space of import in our otherwise unremarkable lives, we can be everything. The most meaningful and significant star in this small stretch of the universe. For those magnificent creatures, we must shine like the sun. And for all the other Lionel Prichards, we must remember to see their shine too.

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

Who dis? Same phone. Just don’t care.

#TinyThreads

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Madame X Has Nothing On Me

Quite a few months before Madonna made the eye-patch all the momentary-rage, I was rocking the pirate look for the promos for the PVRTD project of November 2018. Inspiration comes in fits and rages, lapping like sea water, twinkling like stars. It’s there in black and white. Sometimes it’s bathed in magenta. Always, there is contrast and comparison, destiny and doom. The artist lives to create. To mirror. To unbalance. To discern. To fail and fall and fail again. To rise. 

I don’t pretend to be anything special when it comes to my creative projects. I do what I like and I like what I do. Putting it on a stage like this website is my weird way of confronting social fear, a strange sort of showing off for the introverted side of me that needs to be let out. 

Therapy via world-wide exposure. 

There’s only a little bit of risk involved.

That’s enough.  

 

 

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

The worst thing I could have done was learn how to use a shopping cart.

#TinyThreads

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Oh Sweet Linden

The variable nature of our weather this season has many of us in a schizophrenic dance. Hot and sunny one day, cold and rainy the next, then right back up again a few hours later. It’s too extreme, too wild, too wide-ranging for those of us whose moods depend on some barometric stability. At such moments of meteorological oscillation, I find it best to dip into a stalwart sign of a season, in this instance summer, and focus on a memory or a feeling or the vague stirrings of a similar brush with the sublime.

These admittedly non-descript and rather ho-hum photos show off, as much as possible, the little buds of the Linden tree – an inconspicuous tree that is a large part of city landscaping, and whose unassuming flowers go largely unnoticed except when in bloom. Even then, only the perfume gets noticed, not the flowers themselves. In truth, it took me several years to figure out what the sweet scent in the air at this time of the year was. I was looking for something bold and bright and colorful, something like a lily or rose or lilac that would have the power and potency to fill the air with such fine fragrance.

It was a lesson in judging a book by its cover. Or a tree by its perfume. Or vice versa. I’m mixing metaphors and getting all anthropomorphic now, which means it’s time to wind up this quick pre-summer post.

Go out and find a linden tree before the ants get there.

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The Madonna Timeline: Song #151 ~ ‘Borrowed Time’ -Spring 2015

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

Turning back to Madonna’s ‘Rebel Heart’ album, ‘Borrowed Time’ is one of the bonus tracks from that musically fertile period. Rumor has it that originally ‘Rebel Heart’ was to be a double album, with two of Madonna’s emotional sides on raw display. I think that would have been a killer concept; whittled down to one collection left the final version feeling slightly disjointed and all over the place. Still, it was a beautiful mess, and while ‘Borrowed Time’ is rightfully left off the main event, it’s a lovely-enough tune.

It’s a good point to take a look back at that era, as Madonna has just released a new album – always an exciting time.

DO WE NEED TO START A WAR
DO WE NEED TO TAKE A SIDE
IF WE OPEN UP OUR EYES
REALIZE THAT WE ARE DYING
IS IT ALL WORTH FIGHTING FOR
IT ALL COMES DOWN TO

WHO’S WRONG OR RIGHT
WHO’S BLACK OR WHITE
IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE BLEEDING FOR
STRAIGHT OR BI OR
GOD ALMIGHTY
DOESN’T MATTER UNDERNEATH IT ALL

‘CAUSE WE’RE ONLY HERE TO LOVE
LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW
SO LET’S LIVE EACH MOMENT LIKE OUR TIME IS ONLY BORROWED

Back in 2015, after all the leaks and falls and wonky stand-up moments, ‘Rebel Heart‘ arrived with the insistent drumming and drive of a standard Madonna album, even if she was not pushing any overt boundaries. Rather than one or two main collaborators, however, Madonna and/or her management had a hefty cadre of contributors adding to its spotty feel. When it was high, it soared, as in the title track, the second single ‘Ghosttown‘ and the glorious ‘Messiah.’ When it went low on ‘Best Night,’ ‘Queen,’ and ‘S.E.X.‘ it was a reminder that not all that Madonna touched turned to gold. Still, give me a slight Madonna misfire over any current pop star’s smash hit any day. More indicative of the album and Madonna’s head at the time were songs like ‘Joan of Arc’ and ‘Inside Out‘ – two gorgeous songs that deserved more attention and honor.

DO WE NEED TO BUILD A BOMB
DO WE NEED TO FIRE A GUN
IF YOU HAVE TO STAND YOUR GROUND
IT’S A WAR THAT CAN’T BE WON
IS IT ALL WORTH DYING FOR
IT ALL COMES DOWN TO

WHO’S RICH OR POOR
VIRGIN OR WHORE
IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE PRAYING FOR
DEATH OR LIFE
YOU’RE TRUTH ALMIGHTY
DOESN’T MATTER UNDERNEATH IT ALL

‘CAUSE WE’RE ONLY HERE TO LOVE
LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW
SO LET’S LIVE EACH MOMENT LIKE OUR TIME IS ONLY BORROWED

The ‘Rebel Heart’ album spawned the Rebel Heart Tour, something warmer and more heartfelt than previous tour outings (such as the criminally and intentionally-icy MDNA Tour). It remains to be seen where she’ll go next with her upcoming Madame X Theater Tour, but the encroachment of time has always been her greatest enemy, and the one consistently driving force that grows louder with each passing year. That must feel suffocating to someone like Madonna, and her quicksilver darting is testament to her mantra that it’s tough to hit a moving target. She hasn’t got much time to wait…

IT ALL COMES DOWN TO
WHO’S RICH OR POOR
VIRGIN OR WHORE
IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE PRAYING FOR
DEATH OR LIFE
YOU’RE TRUTH ALMIGHTY
DOESN’T MATTER UNDERNEATH IT ALL

‘CAUSE WE’RE ONLY HERE TO LOVE
LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW
SO LET’S LIVE EACH MOMENT LIKE OUR TIME IS ONLY BORROWED

SONG #151: ‘Borrowed Time’ – Spring 2015

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A Recap Bidding Adieu to Spring

A lot happened this past week – including Albany and Boston Pride (hence the featured rainbow jockstrap photo, ahem), the release of a new Madonna album and my annual Red Sox weekend with Skip – much of which is extensively documented here. Still on a bit of a high from all of it, let’s encapsulate the moments for posterity. This week officially turns the page from spring to summer, and there is more fun to be had. I just don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. On with the recap!

It began with a bit of Madonna excitement courtesy of Andy

These #TinyThreads unwound a bit. 

Unfancy some brunch

Skip and I set it off in Boston

… with a Charles River walk

… some stoop gazing

… and a couple of Chinatown dinners

The anticipation of a new Madonna album.

The exuberant release of Madame X.

She’s coming back – she always does. 

The lone Hunk of the Day: Aaron Libby.

Some other hunks to tide you over until the official HOD returns. 

A summer song by James bring backs San Francisco memories. 

Happy Father’s Day!

BoyCulture introduced me to this bit of Madonna magic

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Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series

Happy Father’s Day, Mother-Fuckers!

(And I mean that literally.)

#TinyThreads

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