Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

My love of snowstorms was likely inherited from my mother, even if never voiced it until we were both adults. In our childhood, my brother and I loved snowstorms as much as any other kid, especially the way they gave the opportunity for a missed day of school. Back then, Mom and Dad were more concerned with shoveling and getting to and from work to enjoy them much, but in recent years Mom has explained how she loved being inside during a snowstorm, especially in the Boston condo. 

I think she always felt that way, as a snowstorm provided a pause in the hectic pace in our daily life. It suspended and arrested the non-stop velocity of a working mother’s many jobs, the way it stopped and stilled the world. Nature wins out in the end, and if the lesson is to slow down and inhabit the moment, the lesson will be learned, from one Mother to another. 

On a recent late-afternoon where one of the first snowstorms of the season arrived, my Mom and I were texting to see how the other was doing. It was almost evening, but the snowfall lent the night more light in that way of solace that makes up for winter being winter. The snow nestled into the outreached arms of the pine trees and dogwoods, which would hold until the winds arrived the next day. For all night and morning, the snow stayed this way – a beautiful way for winter to announce its impending arrival. 

This is the week when the holiday gatherings and celebrations begin in earnest, with office lunches and get-togethers on tap, and all of the social anxiety and distress that comes along with them. If history is any indication, this is when people tend to bring the drama, and understandably so – we are all taxed with extra burdens and told we should be having fun and enjoying the moment and the time together and bullshit, bullshit, bullshit… 

After several years of therapy and working on my own anxiety issues, I’m happily at the point where I can genuinely say (and mean) ‘Fuck it’ when things get to be too much, and I’ll step out of anything at any point in time as needed. People will simply need to be ok with that. Thus far, my close friends and family have always been fine with it, mostly because I haven’t made a huge deal out of anything. 

That said, there will be inescapable episodes where we don’t have the time or preparation to be ready for uncomfortable situations, and rather than stress or worry about it, I’ve adopted a better outlook and attitude when they rear their discomforting heads, one which embraces the imperfection of life, finding fun and laughter in the follies of what we as humans find ourselves doing at any given moment. When you consider what really matters, the friends and family we love, the rest of it doesn’t matter as much. Holding onto that levity and being flexible and open to new experiences are ways in which I’m staying calm amid the frenzy of holiday mayhem. It’s just the slightest tweak in how I’ve handled these couple of weeks leading up to Christmas, but it makes a world of difference. 

When I abruptly turned off my online world last week, it came before we ever got around to a proper recap of the week, and then being off for a bit there was nothing to recap anyway, so here’s what may have been missed, along with what hasn’t been missed at all. Careful readers who follow along in these posts may note the arc of feeling down and dealing with the resulting issues during the holidays, something that has happened to me for many years but only now do I feel ok writing about it. There’s some progress there. More, hopefully, to come. Happy Mondaying to all who are taking part, as if we had a choice…

A cranberry sparkler mocktail just in time for the holiday season. 

Easing into evergreen season with a customary waltz.

Spending a morning with Dad.

The November finale tuckered me out, and as soon as I wrote that I realized how like my Gram I officially sound. 

While on the subject of getting old(er), this post was written right after I was awakened by the old man’s urge to take a piss before the break of day.

Turns out I’m not the only psychotic husband in this house. 

The frosty greenhouse.

A serious post disguised by Madonna and a saucy title: take a poll and ram it up your ass!

An act of solitude.

The mantra: comparison is the thief of joy. Just don’t do it. 

We need this nonsense now more than ever.

Find your own December home, wherever it may be.

A disappearance, an explanation, and the enjoyment of silence.

The Holiday Card 2022 and an offer you can’t refuse.

Wetting the red.

Behind the Godfather scenes, and a glimpse at his underwear.

Big cup or little spoon? Why not both instead?

Dazzlers of the Day included Jasmin Savoy Brown, Edison Fan, Aubrey Plaza, and Matt Rogers.

Perspective is one of those things we don’t think about enough, which is too bad since it informs so much of our world. Take this scene here: is this a regular-sized spoon and a super-sized cup? Is it a tiny spoon and regular-sized cup? Is it a big spoon and an extra-big cup and saucer? Maybe you don’t even notice it – I noticed it in person but it’s not quite translating as easily in these photos. I have to force myself to shift the perspective to see it as it truly was. 

That makes me question what the hell anyone gets out of this site and these ramblings. I try to take in all perspectives as I write posts, but I realize I have as many blind spots and missed possibilities as anyone else. We are largely imperfect that way. What I write in a somber and genuine tone may be read as sarcasm and snarkiness. What I put forth as silly and comical may be read with the utmost seriousness and drama. That makes communication difficult. 

There are ways to overcome this. Repeated exposure to my written style may give hints. Questioning intent and meaning adds understanding. And coming back with a deliberately-altered desire to read things in a different way helps change any pre-conceived perspectives or notions. I’ll keep those ideas in mind when writing things out too; assumption has made an ass of me many, many times. 

“He had long ago learned that society imposes insults that must be borne, comforted by the knowledge that in this world there comes a time when the most humble of men, if he keeps his eyes open, can take his revenge on the most powerful. It was this knowledge that prevented the Don from losing the humility all his friends admired in him.” ~ Mario Puzo, ‘The Godfather’

This post has a few outtakes from this year’s Godfather-themed holiday card, some not-quite-behind-the-scenes images that didn’t make the final cut but are perfect for updating my social media profile pics and annoying everyone who gets annoyed with a mustache. (Why all the ‘stache hate?)

This was a fun one to make – I love a photo shoot where I don’t need to wear pants. In order to get an approximation of the Marlon Brando profile, I had to jut my chin out (Andy later told me that when others imitated Brando’s performance in the film they would stuff cotton-balls in their mouths).

It turns out if you lower your jaw and stick your chin out, you naturally slip into Brando’s signature drawl, and while I contemplated shooting a video of me doing it, I’ll spare you that indignity.

I will not spare you a glimpse of the tighty-whities I donned for the unseen below-the-waist action. Going for something as authentic as possible for a card imitating a movie imitating a lifestyle, I’m not sure how authentic anything can be, and sadly I have no idea what the real monsters may have worn for their underwear-of-choice. These were chosen because I always thought the real Dons would be no-nonsense when it came to undergarments, and though Tony Soprano may have favored baggy boxers, I wanted the classic Don to be more streamlined and elegant, less rumpled and bunchy. These are the kind of painstakingly-detailed decisions one must make when producing the holiday card. 

Many people hate a mustache, so clearly I may have to go back to that for more. It’s not a set of grillz, but it seems equally bothersome, and for a trickster there is nothing more joyous than being bothersome. It’s our purpose in the world. 

Little pockets of nature can be found in the unlikeliest places, such as on this lunch-time walk which brought me past these landscaping shrubs, decked out in their seasonal garb and making the most of these sustained mild temperatures and damp weather. I like that they have decided to burn brightly in spite of the rain and December date. Defy it all. Resist. Persist. Exist. 

A wise woman once said that beauty’s where you find it. That leaves it partially up to the viewer as to whether or not beauty is to be found, and in a strange way whether or not beauty even exists. To know that we hold that in the palm of our hands is to know glory. What we make of it will be up to us. I choose to find it as abundantly as possible, even if that’s on a brief stroll through downtown Albany. 

Perhaps you’ve noticed I took a couple days off from this website, and much of social media – or perhaps you are like most who didn’t notice a bit, save for the lack of the minor annoyance that my incessant posting has likely become. As a wayward teenager once wrote in a fledgling work, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I can’t help but wonder if the word should be wander.” As November ended and December began, I sought out knowledge and wisdom in the quiet mornings, pulling back from friends who had pulled back from me, in the way that the universe piles on when things get dark. Even writing about what I thought ailed me failed to fix anything, and a therapy session yielded similar results. My daily meditation worked its temporal magic, and kept my heart calm, but shifts were afoot that felt like the culmination of the past three years. It is said that when you grow and change in certain meaningful ways, friends and family don’t always come along for the journey. For the most part, that’s not proven true for me, as I’ve had a pretty good collection of lifelong friends and family who have supported and loved me no matter what. Still, time changes things. A pandemic changes things. And in the world of madness that we’ve all experienced for the last three years, such seismic shifts and changes have revealed to me that there are little to no pillars of stability, and all those things that once felt so solid and true move into the past, further and further away, until they are only faded echoes, remnants that merely approximate what we once felt. 

This is what I mourn for now – the realization that our happiest memories cannot be repeated or kept going forever. It’s a lesson that’s been in the making for years. Maybe it’s just the final stage of growing up. I’ve watched traditions I’ve started and done my best to keep up slowly crumble – getting the family Christmas tree with my brother, a holiday stroll with Kira, and a litany of holiday parties and get-togethers with friends – and as they crumbled so too did the connections I once had with people who populated such integral parts of the past. Those people moved on, even as I tried in vain to keep some silly notion of tradition and ritual alive. I held onto such rituals as though they might keep us together. It was folly – noble and heartfelt folly – but still folly no matter how much love and fear was behind it. 

Coming to terms with that has taken a while, and in so many ways I’m only just awakening to it, so there’s still a long way to go. I rise in more subdued form these days, because disillusionment robs everyone of the stupid, happy energy that illusions inspire. Clarity is cold at first. Sharp, too. Without sacrificing all sentiment, I go through the days with a clinical and admittedly-calculated precision, designed to acknowledge the messy pain and hurt, to feel it and move through it by being present,  failing and faltering in my petty expectations and resentments, all in the service of letting go.

Because I know I must. 

A coating of frost on the front lawn catches my eye as the first beams of sunlight sparkle in reflection. It feels like a solemn morning, the way certain December days can in the lead-up to the holidays. Venturing out to examine the frost up close, I breathe in the brisk air, taking the moment for a little meditation first thing in the morning – to set the tone, to ease into the day, to inhabit the moment. The windless atmosphere is quiet – there is a calm that I will try to carry throughout the remainder of the day.