How best to introduce a new project when it feels like we just had one?

I find it best to do so quietly, in small, little ways.

Like this flower clock countdown.

Summer

waits

for 

no

one…

Outside of certain classical music circles, it’s rather an obscure piece. Enjoying none of the mainstream appeal of Saint-Saëns’s ‘Carnival of the Animals’ or Sergei Prokofiev’s ‘Peter and the Wolf’, the Flower Clock takes its inspiration from the transient beauty of the floral world. It reminds me of a quintessential summer day, practicing the oboe while the sun shone outside, a warm breeze gently rustling the curtains of the room in which I stood. My teacher had assigned the piece because it was a popular one for oboes. (We took our ducky features when and where we could find them.)

The green of the outside world was at its freshest – the leaves had not yet hardened off or deepened into their darker, more leathery texture. There was still time to stretch and grow into their hardiness. When youth is blushing and bursting forth, you don’t want to hurry the process. A season only lasts so long, and the more of them that pass, the faster they seem to go.

Not an apathy toward the world – quite the contrary.

An apathy to what I wear and how my hair looks.

That’s the best part of summer to me.

I’ll get dolled up in fall and spring.

For summer, and to a lesser extent winter, the weather is too extreme to care about anything other than comfort. Hence the upcoming batch of sleeveless shirts and baggy swimsuits. (Not to worry, I’ll throw in a Speedo shot or two to maintain blog traffic momentum – and maybe it will even be me in it.)

As for other summer wardrobe, I’ve amassed a sizable cadre of caftans and cover-ups for poolside lounging, summer gatherings, and any possible beach trips. (Sadly none of the latter are on our horizon, but a guy can dream of the sea and dress for it even if it’s nowhere near.) Caftans and cover-ups are a godsend for those pesky comfort-food pounds I’ve been packing away since fall. Oh who am I kidding – give me a flowing piece of clothing that approximates a robe and I’m a happy clam.

Yum – fried clams. Bring it on home.

This month will fly by all too quickly, so I’m trying to pace myself and enjoy the moments as they come. That’s the whole point of the summer, and since we have a few more weeks before it officially arrives, I’m starting to practice now. On with the recap of the previous week… please take your time.

It began here.

A few #TinyThreads for a tapestry. 

This coat sparkled on Broadway.

My review of ‘The Cher Show’. 

Why’s it so cold?

The land of Massholes.

Pairs of pretty pecs.

June arrived in all of its splendor.

A Boston weekend that was all about a yellow dress. 

Hunks of the Day included Blake Jenner and Jay Harrington.

The happiest month of the year is finally at hand! School’s about to end and summer is about to begin. For the past two years I’ve also taken the summer off, but this year I’m going to see if I can stick around to deal with any summer doldrums that may crop up. I’m not promising anything, but there should be a post or two per day until I get back into the serious swing of things come fall. There’s also a new project to promote, and since it comes out in July I think it best that I be here to explain it all when the proverbial shit hits the fan. Just kidding – it’s my most kid-friendly work ever, so it’s safe for all to see. I’m still figuring out the best way to post it, as it’s more of a love-letter to the kids in my life (and their parents) than it is an artistic statement/project that stands alone. All intriguing, all new to me. It also marks my first foray into a new art form. But that will be seen soon enough. Best to stoke the anticipatory fire and fan the promotional flames. Let’s just say that it involves a lifelong obsession of mine and is, in its own way (wait for it…) groundbreaking.

Sunny days have been few and far between this spring, so when we have one we’ve sort of been going crazy. Such was the state of affairs when I met up with Kira in Boston a couple of weekends ago. It was a Full Blue Moon, some crazy bit of astrological torture that rivals Mercury in Retrograde for wreaking havoc on folks cognizant of it and completely unaware. This time I fell in the latter group, as I only realized it after-the-fact. Sometimes that’s helpful, as when you want to be extra careful about not leaving your credit card somewhere besides your wallet. (Ahem, guilty.) And sometimes you realize things would have gone just as awry if there were no moon at all. But I’m getting ahead of myself and the tale of this trajectory, so let me begin with a rather annoying trip on the Mass Pike.

Following a bunch of Massholes driving 60 MPH in the passing lane and not allowing the sane ones among us to get by put an initial damper on the day, and the steady fall of rain for the cajillionth weekend in a row did nothing to abate it. I did learn a little lesson on that day, as I seethed and swore whilst in the throes of a rare bout with road rage, and it was this: the only person getting upset and angry and ruining their day in the situation was me. The other driver was blithely unaware of the pack of fifty vehicles that had collected behind them, each as agitated as the others, and even with high beams or horns blaring, my fit of wrath was not going to have any effect on the person ahead of me. The single thing which I could, with some effort, manage was my own take on the situation.

So I eased off the gas a little.

I took a deep breath.

I turned up the music and started to sing. “Ven comigo, let’s take a trip!” I sound amazing in the car when no one can hear me.)

The anger subsided.

The rage disintegrated.

The wrath fell completely apart.

In a few miles, my countenance had completely changed. Even in the rain that would accompany me for the entire trip into Boston (and a few hours beyond) my spirit would not be dampened. It was reassuring to see that in the midst of such fury, a reserve of peace and calm could be found if I focused enough on not focusing on what irritated me. (A lesson I should bring to my Twitter account.)

An auspicious start to a May weekend in Boston… I’ll describe it more fully in Sunday’s posts.

At the time I am writing this, it’s practically June, and after a day of rain it is now a balmy 49 degrees and the heat is kicking on. Why has spring forsaken us in such a cruel (and cold) manner? I don’t know, but it’s terribly tiresome and I am completely over it. The only saving grace about this is that it has prolonged the blooming period of our beloved Korean lilacs. Still, what good is a longer blooming season when it’s too cold to be outside? The universe pushes and pulls, struggling for a balance. In the meantime, a preview of our floating flamingo. May the sun return in all its glory, sooner rather than later. And may all the heat that Andy has already poured into the pool not dissipate in steaming heaps of burning money…