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A Warm and Sunny Recap?

The weather of April is so variable that it’s risky to put up any ‘warm and sunny’ post in advance of it actually happening. Oh well, no risk, no glory, so on with the story. As our Northeastern spring struggles to catch up with the rest of the world, April is wild and unpredictable, not unlike the last week on this blog.

The most pressing matter of the moment is the question of how I’m going to procure a pair of these sneakers. Ideas and donations are equally welcome.

I’m hoping to return to the brilliance of Boston very soon, preferaby with skies like these. And flowers like these.

Madonna performed a scorching rendition of ‘Bitch, I’m Madonna’ on Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show, but I was much more enchanted by her ‘Ghosttown’ song and video.

Along those lines, Terrence Howard made his debut as Hunk of the Day thanks in part to his co-starring role in the above-referenced Madonna video.

Slowly but surely, it’s on the way.

Stupid is as stupid says.

In the question of who’s hotter in their underwear, Justin Bieber is hardly giving David Beckham a run for his budgie-smuggling money.

When Kira’s around, things get saucy and Saulty.

Adam Lambert got ripped.

No matter what nastiness was going on outside, the Hunks of the Day kept things nice and toasty. This week’s honorees included Chris Nogiec, Filip Sjunnesson, Jussie Smollett, Ming Tsai, and, one of my favorites in a long time, Luke Watson.

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Adam Lambert: Ripped Rock God

This is a little late, but when Adam Lambert is involved, any time is a good time. Here are a few photos that shook the internet a while back, featuring Mr. Lambert in all his gym-sculpted pumptitude. While he’s fluctuated in weight over the years, he’s always been incredibly hot and cute, but this just goes above and beyond that. The Glamberts had a well-deserved field-day over these shots – all of which are drool-worthy. He’s been honored by sexy tributes before, as in this Hunk of the Day crowning, and this follow-up Hunk of the Day redux – dare we hope for a third go at it? Take your shirt off, Adam – and you’ll be golden. Hell, you already are.

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Saulty Fun

This past winter all but ruined my sense of style, as well as the reputation for sartorial splendor I’ve spent a lifetime cultivating. Yet there comes a point during the 29th snowstorm of the season, particularly when it’s coming down in spring, when you have to throw your hands in the air and simply cry mercy. I did that the last time I was in Boston and we were hit with a Saturday of driving snow. I put on a pair of L.L. Bean rubberized boots, a vintage garish parka purchased in emergency fashion from Sault, and made Kira pose in all the madness we could muster. This is how you get through the last few snowfalls. You go crazy.

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Euro-Flair

There are some sections of Boston that hint of European flavor, that conjure streets in London or Paris as one is walking along and absentmindedly gazing at certain squares. These little pockets of Old World charm pop up throughout the historic city, and I’m lucky to have several in my neighborhood. There’s also a stretch along the Boston Public Garden and around the Park Plaza that brings to mind the Europe of fantasy and make-believe – where softly-shaded stone and wrought-iron window gates grant forbidden views into living rooms that go back over a century.

Such a rich history has always grounded the Northeast for me. It’s why, no matter where I may go, this will always be my home. I need something solid, something that has stood for time immemorial, to make me feel secure. I’d like to be one of those people who could pick up and move and make a home wherever he might find himself – and for a certain time I might be able to do that – but I’ll always seek something more stable. Something that has withstood the test of time.

Of course, the entire earth has done as much, and everywhere one steps has been in existence for longer than we can feasibly grasp. Now I’m getting existential, and put in mind of an astronomy course where the size of the universe was contemplated to the point of nihilistic hopelessness. It’s dangerous, when you really start thinking about it. The grain of sand. The implacable stone. The drop of water. The ray of sunlight.

As day turns to night, the city enters its slumber. Light fades, but for the moment colors turn a little richer.

The sky goes dark. The light of humans, conjured centuries ago, flicks on with a switch. The comfort of civilization cries out, and I try to imagine a time when our lives and schedules were ruled by the light and the weather. More existential crap, more muddled rumination. Across one ocean it is already night. Across another it is nearly morning. We are somewhere in-between.

Echoes of Europe whisper from the wide mouth of a stone urn, like a poem from the past.

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David Beckham Selected These Pants for Me

While Beckham may have selected these items for me, it’s my prerogative to not wear or purchase them, and I am exercising said prerogative. In his current ad campaign for H&M, Mr. Beckham stands behind the truthful tag line ‘Modern Essentials selected by David Beckham‘ in a rare moment where he’s not pretending to have designed the collection. I’ll bet Victoria Beckham had a hand in that, because Posh knows a thing or two about designing versus standing around looking hot in your skivvies.

I browsed the wares that Mr. Beckham supposedly selected, and though they were serviceable, they were nothing too spectacular. I need something with a little more pep in this spring season, especially when the winter has been so long and bleak. Now is not the time for subtlety. David Beckham knows better. Personally, I feel he should stick with what he knows best: underwear.

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Justin Bieber: Shirtless & (Gulp) Bulked

Watching Martha Stewart roast Justin Bieber was almost – ALMOST – enough to diminish some of the negative feelings I have toward the trying-to-reform young prick. But before I give in to the dark side and emotionally prepare for a Taylor Swift turn-around, I’m hanging onto some deeply-ingrained annoyance thanks to Bieber’s possible connection to one of the Kardashian spawn. This hater is gonna hate, hate, hate until such a scourge is wiped from the earth. That said, it’s nice to see Mr. Bieber progressing from these early shirtless pics to this bulked-up stance by way of Calvin Klein. Photoshopping is a Godsend when you need to get jacked quickly.

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Pacific Gravity

One of my favorite stores in Boston is Jack Wills, the fabulously British London-themed stop that carries distinctive clothing items for the discerning gentleman and casually-elegant lady. (They currently have a stunning striped jacket that I briefly entertained buying, but I digress wistfully.) On my last shopping excursion, when I happened to be feeling particularly sassy and less-than-patient, I was approached by a guy who did his best to help me in the face of my intolerance. Here’s how our brief conversation played out.

Salesperson: Are you looking for anything pacific today?

Me (quizzically): Pacific?

Salesperson: Yes, are you looking for something pacific?

Me: Do you mean specific?

Salesperson: Yes.

Me: No.

I’m pretty sure he still had no idea what I was talking about, what he had done wrong, and why I had to stop speaking to him. [Sigh]

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Red-Headed Witch (Hazel)

Along the Southwest Corridor Park in Boston, I seek out these witch hazel shrubs every spring. There are yellow versions in the Boston Public Garden, but these are closer to my place, and their color is rarer than their more common yellow counterpart. The fragrance is slightly less compelling, but on such a windy weekend it made no difference either way. The scent of flowers is meant for still evenings and quiet mornings, preferably on the warm side.

While technically not ‘blooms’ the colorful plumage seen here appears as such, making a magical impression of flowering wood. Like the American dogwood and the Judas tree, there’s something elegant and exquisite about a tree or shrub that blooms on bare branches, before the leaves show up. The Japanese cherry is another good example of this, as is forsythia. All is about to commence. We’ve waited long enough.

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Madonna, Top Hat & Ghosttown

If the sneak teasers are any indication of what the actual video will be like, I’m already completely entranced by Madonna’s new ‘Ghosttown’ single. While it was supposed to premiere yesterday on some trendy, or not-so-trendy, app, it appears to have been delayed to today. Any minute, it’s due to be unveiled, and I can’t wait. The look is the same one that Madonna sported on her recent Taylor-Swift-aided performance, and it’s perfection. Give me a corset and a top hat and I’m a happy guy.

‘Ghosttown’ is a highlight of her ‘Rebel Heart’ masterpiece, and looks like one of those sleeper anthems that resonates in a quieter, more profound, and more lasting way. Haunting and elegiac, yet imbued with grace and hope, it’s one of Madonna’s finest efforts, sidestepping trends with a timelessness, and somehow an entirely-of-the-moment urgency.

When it all falls, when it all falls down

I’ll be your fire when the lights go out

When there’s no one, no one else around

We’ll be two souls in a ghost town…

Leave it to Madonna to find a sliver of beauty in this post-apocalyptic world, some small ray of hope and gorgeousness that transcends this mad, mad world.

UPDATE: Here is the video, in full… and it’s a masterpiece.

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Burst of Crocus

The island in the middle of Braddock Park features a fountain and a line of trees protected by a wrought-iron gate. Beneath the trees are patches of ivy and a few clumps of spring flowering bulbs. The first – these lavender-hued crocus – are a bright burst of happiness, and one that I was not expecting. We’re behind because of all the snow, but we’re getting there, and my heart jumped when it caught sight of these beauties.

I planted a great number of crocus in the backyard back in upstate NY, but with all the hungry squirrels and chipmunks it’s unlikely that many of them survived. For some reason if they make it through the first season they’ll usually last. It’s the first season that’s the most dangerous. The animals sense newly-disturbed ground and smell the seductive relatives of saffron, feeding upon the corms in the fading warmth of fall. We’ll see if any made it through the wilderness. I’ll remain hopeful.

I’ll also keep trying, because there is no greater harbinger of spring than these happy blooms. From the dreary brown and gray detritus of winter, the bursting of the crocus gladdens the weariest of hearts.

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On Golden Wings

For the first time in my life, I’m on a waiting list for a pair of shoes.

Not just any shoes: a pair of sneakers.

Yes, sneakers.

But if I can deal with L.L. Bean rubber on my feet, I can get on board with these Adidas. Especially if they’ve got wings. Gold wings. Designed by Jeremy Scott. It doesn’t get more exciting than that, and if anyone’s going to get me into sneakers on a regular basis, it’s Mr. Scott and his brilliance. My hat goes off to any guy who loved wings as much as I do.

I’ve had some shoe obsessions in the past, but they were in the fantasyland of Tom Ford. Nice to fantasize about, but at four grand most decidedly unattainable in the real world. At a price point below $300, these sneakers are something I can justify. I can already see golden dreams in my future.

“Fashion visionary Jeremy Scott’s latest iteration of his beloved winged shoes, these Wings 3 sneakers feature a lustrous gold metallic upper and futuristic spiky wings that sweep energetically across the upper. They’re finished with Jeremy Scott’s signature on the heel.”

I will channel Icarus, I will channel Mercury, I will channel Apollo ~ and I will fly like the sun-kissed phoenix.

(As soon as my number comes up.)

 

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Blue Boston Brilliance

A blue sky after a very gray winter can be a boon to the soul, and Boston offered one of its most blue moments this past weekend. There were a few rain showers, but in-between I got a peek at what’s been hidden all this time. Though the wind was the strongest I’ve experienced in a while, the sky was mostly clear but for some swiftly-moving bands of clouds, captured here in the reflection of the John Hancock Tower.

Beside the mighty tower, the warm hues of the dwarfed Trinity Church provide the history of old and relatively new encapsulated in one gorgeous juxtaposition. That’s one of the most charming aspects of Boston – the old and the new beautifully co-existing and forging a future together.

As for my visit, I accomplished much: a major spring cleaning, in four separate stages (vacuuming/dusting, floor mopping, bathroom, and the carting out of garbage). Setting the stage for Boston weekends to come this spring, this annual rite of passage always makes me happy. I live in the anticipatory moments, in the times of preparation and planning. Good times with Kira and JoAnn are in store…

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Easter Monday Recap

Now that He is Risen, may we all get back into the groove? It’s been a week of high holy madness, with a (hopefully) final resolution of all my bunny issues, and a slightly more poignant Easter memory of my grandmother.

It was also the week I returned to Boston after a snow-blocked winter.  There’s nothing better than a Market Daze.

Confessions: I slept with a woman.

And Tom Daley went full-frontal on us.

And you won the lottery.

In the midst of all the holiness, a holy backlash.

A pair of Holy Hunks: Pietro Boselli and Aaron O’Connell.

It ain’t the meat, it’s the motion.

A Boston Tea Party, minus the hate.

If I were married to a woman, it might look something like this. And that’s no laughing matter.

Finally, Nick Jonas got all nude and naked on us. Happy Easter indeed.

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Nick Jonas & More Nude GIFs

Nick Jonas has solidified his status as worthy and willing Hunk with all the times he’s removed his clothes in the past year or so. Starting with the Instagram shot heard round the world, and following up stunningly with his fittingly chosen magazine cover for ‘Flaunt,’ Mr. Jonas has come into young adulthood in sexy fashion. Further proof of his penchant for taking his clothes off is evidenced here, and in GIFs from another instance where he appeared in the buff. Yes, we still get jealous…

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Gram’s Jewelry Box

Most of the Easters of my childhood were spent in scratchy starched miniature three-piece suits, stuffily sitting at a tiny kids’ table in my Grandmother’s apartment in Hoosick Falls. After being forced to go to church, we’d load our Easter baskets into the car and make the hour-long drive from Amsterdam for a lunch of ham and potatoes, and a dessert of chocolate treats.

Somewhere there’s a photo or two of my brother and I sitting beside two huge pastel-colored baskets, grinning ear-to-ear with the beautiful bounty of sugar before us.

As much as we loved our Gram, something about the whole formality of the day dampened what should have been an otherwise-happy occasion. As any good Catholic knows, Easter is the real high holiday of the religious year. Christmas gets all the gift-laden glory, but the resurrection is where the real power is at. Anyone – in fact everyone when you think about it – can be born. Only one guy was born again and brought back to life. (That’s how the story goes, at least, even if I was unclear as to where JC went after escaping that cave and leaving his clothes behind. Naked guys couldn’t get nearly as far today without incident.)

Catholic confusion aside, my brother and I focused on the treats of the day, and worked to extricate ourselves from the watchful eyes of our parents and doting grandmother. We’d invariably shed our jackets, untuck our shirts, and lose our clip-on ties.

If we ate most of our lunch, we’d be excused to explore the bedroom and guest room, leafing through Gram’s books and playing her music boxes. While ‘Misty’ played from a spinning trio of porcelain ships, it was a rose-lacquered music box clock that played the waltz that would forever signify my grandmother.

As a braille-like drum turned and plucked bands of stiff metal, the magical pluckings of the music boxes filled the wooden surrounds of Gram’s bedroom. As each one slowed to a sad stop, we’d wind them up again, as tight as they would go, and the music sped up in a way that made us smile. Such was the excitement of Easter morning for two little boys in Hoosick Falls.

Of greater interest to one of those boys was a jewelry box that held all sorts of sparkling confections. If I have any notion of how to accessorize, it’s largely from these early days of rummaging through my Gram’s jewelry. Though most of her belongings were garish costume pieces (my favorite) a few held great value, such as the ones seen here. It was a lesson that informed the rest of my life: the most ostentatious-looking items weren’t necessarily the most valuable. That would be our little secret.

In her own way, Gram taught me what really mattered, and though we could glitter and glam up with the best of them, the love between a Grandmother and her grandson was worth more than the prettiest diamond and the bluest sapphire.

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