Yearly Archives:

2015

Cold Speedo Sunday

The weather outside may be growing frightful, but this blog will hopefully keep things delightful as we serve up a Speedo Sunday post to warm the cockles of your budgie smuggler. Here is Chris Mears, who seems to be stealing some Tom Daley thunder of late, with photos shoots and calendar compilations that rival much of what Mr. Daley has done. It’s the sort of competition that can get fierce. Winner shows it all.

Previous Speedo shots have included this one of Luke Evans in bright blue, Tom Daley in burgundy, and Greg Louganis in black and white.

Also filling out their banana hammocks were James Magnussen, Jack Laugher, Ian Thorpe, and Ryan Lochte.

And for good measure, here is Michael Phelps completely without a Speedo, i.e. totally naked.

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The DG Tour: Rock Star Addict ~ Pt. III

Some stories require a million words to get across the simplest point. Others require the merest wisp of a whispered few to achieve the same breadth and effect. Still others tell their narrative with a single image. The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book, chronicling the Last Stand of a Rock Star, aims to tell its tale through a little of both. In this particular entry, however, the emphasis is decidedly on economy of expression, allowing a few choice photographs, and the slightest prayer, to expound upon a very dark story.

It’s a story that I’ll one day tell in far more chilling detail (perhaps), a story that touches on issues that run deeper than anything I’ve written about here (thus far), and a story that informs the very essence of this final tour (yes, it’s the last).

It’s also a story that can be interpreted in myriad ways, which is why I love this portion of the Tour Book so much. At first glance, it says something, but if you analyze further it says something else. Each version carries its own set of truths, but each has hidden aspects, and realities that are missing even from the most seemingly-blatant photographic evidence. There’s a phrase that people throw around when they want to sound mysterious and intriguing: nothing is what it seems.

I’ve rarely found that to be true. Most things are indeed as they appear, and the simplest and most stress-free way to live is to take those things to be true. Otherwise, we’d be doubtful of anything, suspicious of everything, and wary of the entire world. I wouldn’t ever want to live that way.

Yet sometimes things aren’t what they at first glance appear to be. Sometimes they’re not what they seem to be upon eight or nine glances. There is always room for the individual to change and grow, evolve and improve – and to count anyone out, especially a proven chameleon and exception to the rule, is foolishness that will always be exposed as such.

“And now I find I’ve changed my mind. This is my religion.”

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star

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Touring Existence

A hotel in New York, the street sounds buffered and muted but always there. A comforting drone, white noise accented by horns and the occasional boom or crash. The messy bed, even when occupied by only one. A luxury when they have to change all the sheets for the next guest anyway. A life made up of hotel nights, a vagabond nomad existence. A world contained in a carry-all.

A tour transforms, much like a hotel, and in the same way it’s very temporary, fleeting. A tour exists on its own, as an entity. Like a hotel, it is a structure. A vehicle for transformation even if the concept itself is stationary, even if the blueprint never changes. It is the background and the atmosphere and the blank canvass for An Experience. The setting and the scenery for What Is About To Happen. The skeleton of The Show. And all the skin and sparkle we hang on it is no more than window-dressing and gauze.

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Hunk of the Day: Charles Melton

Ryan Murphy must have a thing for Hunk of the Day Charles Melton, having given him turns on ‘Glee’ and ‘American Horror Story’ – and from the looks of his portfolio who can blame him. Mr. Melton counts Korean and Cherokee heritage as part of his sultry visage, and he certainly lucked out in the DNA department.

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Next Tour Stop: NYC

Tomorrow, The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star hits its first New York City stop, with my friend Chris as Guest Manager. What he lacks in punctuality he makes up for in spirit, and he is one of the few people who consistently restores my faith in humanity when it’s faltering. This weekend we are spending an evening at ‘Queen of the Night’ (which requires ‘Gala Attire’ – fine for me, but often an issue for others, including the guy who wore the same blue t-shirt for at least two semesters of college). Following that, the night is wide open, and the Tour rolls on with the same piss and pizzazz we’ve employed since the first time we met two decades ago. Chris had long hair then, but the same wide-eyed exuberance for changing the world that he does now. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the kid dressed head-to-toe in silver sequins (well, actually he did – he said I looked like a bug, which I’ll attribute to my wrap-around sunglasses and nothing else). I wasn’t sure what to make of the flannel-wearing, pony-tail dangling, baggy-jeaned visage before me either. I’m pretty sure neither of us foresaw any sort of friendship developing, certainly not one that has so richly informed my life over the years.

That’s the best part of life: those unexpected surprises that deliver the people we most need when we don’t even realize how much we were missing.

Our next adventure is about to begin… New York here we come.

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David Beckham: Sexiest Man Alive

People Magazine has never been the most cutting edge publication – it’s way too mainstream to be that edgy – and their choice of David Beckham as Sexiest Man Alive for 2015 is about as mainstream as they come, save for the fact that Mr. Beckham is 40 years old. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being 40… ahem.) It’s striking, however, as they usually err on the side of youth, so it’s nice to see someone of my generation still making headlines for being sexy and desirable. As for Beckham, this is long overdue.

{For those who admire the man as much as People does, check out this almost-definitive post of his assets and bulges.}

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Holiday Gift Brigade

Yes, I have already started my holiday shopping, and in earnest. I’m not one of those who does it in one fell-swoop, nor do I particularly enjoy spacing it out over ten months either. I’m somewhere in-between, with designated spurts of gift-buying that become events in and of themselves. When you love shopping as much as I do, this is something that should be savored, not dreaded. At this time of the year, it’s also a welcome harbinger of the season, when the notion of the Christmas holiday is still fresh and new (but not October-new; in fact, anything prior to Veteran’s Day should not have anything to do with Christmas).

By now, however, it’s impossible to fight it, and we seem to have moved the celebration up a few weeks. It used to be after Thanksgiving, but no one wants to wait that long, and I’m fine with extending the celebratory good-will a little longer. For me, the real kick-off is the Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Celebration as put on by the Alliance for Positive Health. Since that is happening this Friday, we’re practically there. The anticipation is in the air. The excitement is building. The outfit is ready.

Most importantly, my Holiday Wish List is in the making… and I’ve been a very good boy.

(Until then, my Amazon wish list is still up-to-date… [wink-wink/hint-hint])

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Bravery, Brevity & Bravado: The World of Ben Kline

There’s a lot of bullshit on the internet, and it just keeps accumulating. Wading through all the nastiness and fluff is a Herculean task into which I rarely delve. If it doesn’t happen across my social media feeds (and often when it does) I don’t pay much attention to it. Once in a while, however, someone comes along to get me to sit up and take notice. It happened the other day when Matthew Rettenmund’s ‘Boy Culture’ blog alerted me to the awesomeness that is Ben Kline. I immediately sent him a FaceBook request asking if he’d deign to be a Hunk of the Day, but upon perusing his site and his work, it was clear that Mr. Kline was much more than the average Hunk.

As a poet, writer, and fellow-seeker-of-the-truth through the imagery of Instagram and Tumblr, Kline and his creative output resonate powerfully with me. He takes the acutely personal and transforms it into something universal, which is at the heart of any work of art. Getting at the core of the human experience and exposing the raw emotional circuitry between the heart and the head is a talent only the most courageous choose to cultivate. The exploration of one’s identity in such a public platform takes a big set of balls, as well as a thick skin. It also requires a certain vulnerability that can be frightening to many people.

Perhaps best-known for his poetry, Kline combines the written word with powerful, personal images. I’ve always held that contrary to popular perception, poetry is the most difficult style of writing. The thousands of words that comprise so much prose (and almost everything you read here) are designed to mask the ineptitude of content and style, whereas in a poem of a few lines there is nowhere to hide. Such an economy of words is terrifying terrain for any but the most talented writer.

 

Kline’™s poetry seeks to further the eternal quest for finding meaning in our lives, in the ways we strive to connect with each other and the attempts we make to get closer to the truth. His first collection, ‘Going Fast in Loose Directions‘ is an examination of those moments. His Tumblr website, Original Content Required, offers similar insight and intimate revelations with its of-the-moment observations. Time and distance can provide a safety buffer for intensely-revealing work, but so can the development of a persona slightly separate from the real person behind it all. That sort of dichotomy is befitting a Gemini like Kline.

“I definitely have created a character in my work on Original Content Required,” Kline explains. “Even though I’m clearly the writer of my poems, stories and essays, as well as the “model” in many of the photos, I tag them The Author. Which draws a line, yet allows the line to blur, because I am the author. Just not “The Author.” I like to say, My work is not me, but of me. Readers do not always appreciate that a poem, particularly in first person, is not about me, Ben, but is a character with or without name. Biographical critique has caused two generations of readers to seek too much information/gossip/context about the writer from the work, instead of just taking the work as presented. Throw that into the social media age, where every detail is scrutinized for real or imagined context…it’s almost too much… I don’t mind the two aspects being separate and also blending on occasion.”

There’s a certain fortitude required when you live your life so openly, and then put it all out there for the world to see. Some shy away from that because they’re afraid to face the truth about themselves – the negative, the raw, and the primal underbelly of basic human drives and needs. That’s never been an issue for Kline. “I have no fear of honesty, especially my own about myself,” he says.

He backs that up with some scorching sexual descriptions that once caused a Creative Writing teacher to advise that Kline back off from so much of the sex stuff. Fortunately, that only fueled the fire, and to this day Kline doesn’t shy away from graphic descriptions of sexual acts. The line between art and pornography is one that he simply doesn’t recognize, and such freedom is a welcome defiance of all the banned FaceBook and Instagram photos that get reported. His is a far more progressive take on sex: “I don’t have or encourage a definition of pornography. I suppose I could be basic and say sex on film? Pornography also suggests something obscene and I find nothing obscene about sex. Now that I think about it, I’d like to have that word stricken from our vocabularies.”

As bold as that may be, and as sex-positive as his work is, nothing Kline puts out there is what I would consider offensive or rude. (Those are subjective terms, it’s true, but this is a subjective blog.) In all of his scintillating photographic work, the photos that reveal the most are the ones that hide any blatant explicitness. The hint of a cock is somehow more scandalous than the exposed member itself. In a way, it’s the perfect embodiment of his poetic intent: “I want to portray a feeling, not the actual circumstances.”

To that end, Kline has managed to make the internet more personal and more resonant in the way he touches the common, tender thread of emotional examination. He also reaches out and interacts with his readers. It’s a vehicle to enhance his message, and he’s one of the wise people who focus on the positive aspects of its power while maintaining a realistic notion of its actual effect.

“The internet is fun to me,” he explains. “I’m old enough to remember life before it existed. It will never feel “real” to me the way I see younger people behave in regard to online interactions. I don’t mind the anonymity and people trolling or acting crazy. Just ignore them… But the comment poems and stories, as well as some of my responses to direct reader questions, are just another way I enjoy taking the mundane and making art with it. It’s really that simple. It engages both parties, the audience and the ideas in play. I love it.”

It’s a love that is rabidly returned, judging from the popularity of his poetry and his photography, and Kline is the kind of authentic artist that reveals the best of this wild and crazy internet world. At a time and place where so many of us try to portray ourselves as something other than who we are, his honesty and openness are an inspiration.

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When We Were Young ~ Adele

EVERYBODY LOVES THE THINGS YOU DO, FROM THE WAY YOU TALK TO THE WAY YOU MOVE…

EVERYBODY HERE IS WATCHING YOU CAUSE YOU FEEL LIKE HOME,

YOU’RE LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE

BUT IF BY CHANCE YOU’RE HERE ALONE, CAN I HAVE A MOMENT BEFORE I GO?

CAUSE I’VE BEEN BY MYSELF ALL NIGHT LONG

HOPING YOU’RE SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW…

LET ME PHOTOGRAPH YOU IN THIS LIGHT IN CASE IT IS THE LAST TIME

 THAT WE MIGHT BE EXACTLY LIKE WE WERE BEFORE WE REALIZED

WE WERE SAD OF GETTING OLD

IT MADE US RESTLESS

I’M SO MAD I’M GETTING OLD IT MAKES ME RECKLESS

IT WAS JUST LIKE A MOVIE, IT WAS JUST LIKE A SONG

WHEN WE WERE YOUNG.

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Cool GIFs (And I don’t mean Pop)

While I’m under-the-weather it’s going to be a light day here, so pass the maxi and enjoy these cool GIFs that will either mesmerize you or give you a splitting headache. Welcome to my world, suckas.

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A Most Beautiful Recap

Stricken by another cold, this weekend in Boston was a trying one, but I rallied for old-friends’ sake, and my own enjoyment. The Delusional Grandeur Tour must go on! To that end, our usual Monday morning recap, while I recuperate.

The F-word, and I don’t mean ‘fuck.’

The fight song, and I don’t mean this fight song.

Some Confessions are still good even a decade later.

Everything’s gonna be all right.

Everybody needs somebody, you’re not the only one.

Shirtless men like Sergey Shubenkov and Troy Pes kept the Hunk of the Day feature kicking, while Andy Brown, Taylor Frey an Tom Sandoval kept things hot.

Might as well face it

The Delusional Grandeur Tour hits its first deep moment. (This was a telling one.)

A holly Jolley hunk.

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The DG Tour: Rock Star Addict ~ Pt. II

In the gray dawn before day, when the world looks black-and-white, and the glamourous trappings of the night seem frightening and remote, a sobering plane of vision slowly comes into soft focus. A window looking out into the yard frames a scene of sparkling frost: the insidious creep of winter, tapping gently at the glass, quietly at first but no less insistent.

The snow and the blow, the white snuff and fluff, the crystalline powder falling from the sky before droplets of blood fall from your nose. The messy slush of what’s true and what’s not will only get murkier as the see-saw of the freeze-and-thaw heaves and cracks the ground beneath your feet.

And yet it was all a game, a ruse, a dramatic posturing so that he wouldn’t have to really go there. He wouldn’t ever truly destroy himself; he was too smart for that. Too clever and too resourceful and too stubborn to really ruin anything. He expected others to know that too. That was his only flaw.

When everyone begins to believe the myth you have made up, it’s very hard to make them see anything else, even when it’s the truth.

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

{Continuing Next Weekend in New York City…}

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The DG Tour: Rock Star Addict ~ Pt. I

A rock star is someone who thrashes themselves emotionally, making each moment matter, someone who goes to every extreme for the thrill of feeling, the promise of acceptance, the holy grail of love. A rock star is someone who’s chosen to take the risks you never took. If they fail or falter, it’s still more of a show than you’ll ever manage to make. That’s why you love and loathe them so. They dare to be what you never had the courage to try.

Most rock stars burn brightly but quickly – too quickly – extinguishing themselves with the brightness and heat of their own flames. A rock star only knows how to burn. There’s nothing else.

And I, well, I did my best to be a rock star. I did it for you. I thought it was what you wanted. I believed that if I could make you remember me, your notice might make some sort of difference, that you would somehow make me matter. I wanted to leave an impression, to prove that I was here, to go unforgotten.

Perhaps I got carried away.

Perhaps the carefully-crafted myth took on a life of its own.

Perhaps I really did lose control.

I made you believe.

I made myself believe.

So much so that I almost forgot how I made the whole thing up.

At long last, the sad confession:

I made it all up.

A man can make himself quite lonely with the ghosts of make-believe, and the mirror is a two-faced trickster willing to whisper deliciously dangerous secrets to those who most want to pretend.

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

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The DG Tour: Addicted to Love

A Disclaimer:

This is where the Tour Book turns a little darker, and every time I go dark people tend to get a little concerned. It’s done out of love, it’s done out of care, and blah, blah, blah… This time, however, the blinders are off and my sight is clear. This time, I’m afraid, it’s all about the art. If you can’t handle that, and if you choose to not believe, come back when it’s all over. Otherwise, hold on… the roller coaster is nearing its apex.

As for logistical matters, the Delusional Grandeur Tour hits Boston this weekend, beginning with a dinner with my dear friend Alissa (who will soon be departing these shores) followed by a dinner and show with another dear friend JoAnn (who is taking me to the Carole King musical ‘Beautiful’ as a 40th birthday gift). Meeting friends that I’ve had for over seventeen years is the main impetus for every tour I’ve undertaken.

But that’s the real-time tour schedule. That’s what will happen in real life. The Tour Book is another story… and it is just that: a story. The next chapter? Rock Star Addict.

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In the Cold November Rain

For some reason, a November rain always feels like the most brutal rain. Surely there are greater gusts with the late spring/early summer storms, as well as October hurricane remnants, but the rain in November is somehow more cruel and cutting. It takes the last of the leaves off the trees, stripping them bare for the rest of the winter. It dampens the grass heads gone to seed, and darkens the bark of the tree limbs. It is, in short, a very sad sort of rain. No wonder Mother Nature soon takes her slumber. I wouldn’t want to stay up for any of this, and it’s only going to get worse before it gets better.

Thanks to the tricks of the internet, however, we can pause and go back for a moment. Back to the time when the leaves were still bright and dry, held aloft in the bluest of skies, as they were on this Coral Bark Maple. They hung on into late October, but even that was late for them. This is the sort of show I will miss until spring returns

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