Fading like the end of August fades, a candle is barely discernible as pink in its solitary light. The final faint whispers of a coquette summer rustle along a night breeze – how it slipped away so quickly is the saddest recurring mystery. On this last day of August, here is another song to keep the summer going – this time from our early summer pal Mitski. It wasn’t on any of our previous summer coquette playlists, and while I don’t have a fourth one in the offing, there is still time for a song or two before the summer finally departs.
I’m beautiful, I know cause it’s the season But what am I to do with all this beauty? Biology, I am an organism, I’m chemical That’s all, that is all I’m liquid smooth, come touch me, too And feel my skin is plump and full of life I’m in my prime I’m liquid smooth, come touch me, too I’m at my highest peak, I’m ripe About to fall, capture me Or at least take my picture
Proving that this beautiful brat summer of 2024 is not quite over, Naomi Osaka donned this spectacular green ruffled tennis outfit for her opening volley of the US Open, and in my mind this kicks open the door of some fun and fine fashion finally being worn on the tennis court. She easily won her set, so it doesn’t seem to impede her skills in the least, and for being brave in this and so many other ways, she earns her first Dazzler of the Day crowning.
The increasingly-tumultuous weather we’ve had of late has coaxed a couple of azaleas into bloom, far from their typical blooming season. The throwback to spring is bittersweet given the late hour of this summer, but I paused to look at this anomaly, enjoying memories of when it all began. Spring feels very distant. Summer does too, even if we’re still in it.
There is danger here, especially if these buds were intended for next spring. I would never rob the future for a momentary jolt of pleasure in the present.
The garden has been quietly busy of late, with our cup plants and butterfly bush providing fertile feeding and pollinating ground for the birds and bees and a hummingbird as seen here. Both continue in their long blooming period, allowing for enjoyment by these visitors that will last through the start of winter. The bees and insects will depart first for the season, then the hummingbirds will go – only the finches will keep coming back into the slumber time.
The gardens have been wanting to go to sleep for a while now. I stopped fertilizing and feeding them a few weeks ago. Once the ostrich ferns take that turn to brown, it is senseless to try to keep things going and growing. The only things I keep feeding are the container plants, as they will require the nutrients for as long as we want them to be presentable. Let us not be too quick to overlook the importance of these plants in the fall. Cool nights don’t mean an instant end to the pageantry. Not yet…
In the meantime, the birds and the bees are still humming along…
A rustling and a scuffle, held high above the ground where such things usually take place, drew my attention to the crux of the Eastern white pine and a coral bark Japanese maple tree. A pair of squirrels quarreled or played in the arms of the latter, sending a few maple leaves fluttering to the floor, before they charged into the feathery planes of the pine boughs. What could have caused such a tussle? The curiosity into the lives of squirrels takes me blessedly out of the day, and anything that takes us out of ourselves is a good thing. How many hours have I spent self-fucking the ego? Surely enough for a lifetime.
Let us look to the trees, and beyond to the sky, to figure out ourselves through detachment and distance. It all goes around and comes around, and around and around we go…
Seeking out a spiritual path in life is often the last bastion of hope for those of us searching for meaning in how we live. Starting off on such a journey, or simply making one’s own way and determining which direction to head is what Kaelan Strouse offers with his books, coaching and spiritual retreats. Meditation has become a life-saving practice for me, so a spiritual guide and coach is nothing short of dazzling, hence Kae’s crowning as Dazzler of the Day here. He melds spirituality, sexuality, and self-empowerment into an authentic and genuine reconciliation of our minds and bodies. Check out his website here for a more detailed and fascinating look at his life’s calling, excerpted below:
Kaelan is a spiritual guide who has led meditations, coaching sessions, and yogic practices since 2008. He founded Ecstatic Self LLC during the pandemic of 2020; his client list ranges from CEOs of NFL teams to federal judges—from Ivy League tenured professors to leaders in healthcare startups.
He has written two books on personal growth and belonging (Journey to the Ecstatic Self & I Dreamt of Flight). Kaelan lived in a meditative ashram for 7 years, earned his advanced CRT 500 in yogic instruction, and has over 1/2-million followers on Ecstatic Self YouTube and other socials.
He has led corporate leadership and empathy workshops for top corporations like JP Morgan, TripAdvisor, KPMG, Bank of America, etc. He graduated magna cum laude from Northwestern University and lives in Washington, DC with his husband and pets.
Surviving another year on this crazy-ass earth is no mean feat, even if most of us still living have done it for as many years as we’ve been here. Saying a great deal of nothing with a maddening cadence of words has become this blog’s stock in trade. On with this post-birthday recap of the week that I turned 49…
Singer, songwriter, producer and powerhouse performer Todd Alsup is one of those fantastic artists who puts on a show from soup to nuts, absolutely creating and expressing a sensational experience for the audience. Currently bringing the one-two punch of “Freedom: The George Michael Experience” and “Elton Undressed”, Alsup is channeling gay rock icons in splendid fashion, while introducing the world to his own brand of charm, talent and charisma. This marks his first Dazzler of the Day crowning. Check out his website here for further evidence of his brilliance.
I made it through the wilderness… somehow I made it through. Another birthday finished, assuming things go relatively well (at the time of this writing I am still a baby-like 48) it’s a day to take pause, and the only thing blue is the color of these salvia blooms. Let’s have a quiet Sunday morning, and bring that calm into the week.
This is 49, and it comes after a ferocious summer that took my back out, strained my neck, gave me a second go-round with COVID, and battered me down in numerous other ways unnoticeable to the naked eye. The body betrays us the older we get, even as we struggle to protect it.
After revisiting this date 49 times, one would think I’d have a better grasp of how things should go, of what I’m supposed to be doing. Strangely, with each passing year, I’m discovering that the older I get the less I understand – and there is growing wisdom in that realization and acceptance.
Today I turn 49 years old. I don’t quite know what to do with that, other than to play this song, and to pray. Yes – I pray. Every night. At every moment of doubt, at every moment of worry. Little prayers, little offerings, little exercises in superstition or faith and what’s the goddamn difference?
You wake to greet the brand new day Wake up, realize you’re late Rush out to make your plane Can’t find your keys again…
You need to reawake, now Listen to the words I’m saying in this line, and That your life will be just fine, and Your troubles do not stay They get replaced with good times Now you’ve got a great life Smile as you walk by Thinkin’ ’bout the day
Born of fear, born of trauma, born of need and desire and survival – we all come into this world in such similar ways – messy and wet and crying out of lonely desperation, clinging to whatever is immediately around us, grasping at something or someone to take care of us – for protection, for security, for comfort, for love. Some of us never learn how to stop crying. Some of us never learn how to start again.
This body, the only body I have ever known, the only body I will ever know, this shell of my physical existence, breaks down a little more with each passing year. The lithe and limber days of carefree, flexible, quick-to-bounce-back forgiveness calcify and become brittle at the turn of an almost-half-century. This body – it cracks and crinkles now, it whispers and laughs and collapses – it betrays this mind, disconnecting from what I think I can do, what I once could do, what I lost the ability to do… and today of all days I can barely formulate a coherent sentence.
It’s late, your legs won’t rest today Your body seems to ache Your mind will win the race Burnin’ by your sleep again
The light blooms from the sun The long dark night undone Another day of fun Waiting for some luck to come
Should I fear this year then? This final year of my forties, death knell to any far-fetched and barely-feasible semblance or pretending of youth? Maybe… maybe. Strangely it’s not fear I feel, nor the rush to get on with it. It’s really just another day, just another year, and the way we mark the days and years is just some silly system of numeric designation, as if 49 means something more than 48 or less than 50. There is nothing at all different today from yesterday – even if nothing is at all the same.
You keep hoping for a day When things will go your way When all decisions have been made And karma’s finally found its way
The drinks, they pass the time They help me to unwind The guilt is killing me Inside your eyes
It’s gray, the rain pours down my face The tears become erased A cleansing of my face Splashing down into my grin
My eyes become alive A feeling left behind A hidden world untied Creating all you see today
The clouds, they went away Forever, did I wait And karma finally found my plate And now I’m smiling by the sun
And so I step gingerly back into the river of life, the banks on which I have probably paused more than most – shy and skittish, scared and scarred from that moment of birth, and never quite having been able to get completely over it. I watched more of it go by than I ever took part in, and though it’s not regret I am experiencing, there is a sense of loss, even if I can’t be mad about it. It’s never helpful to be angry at who you used to be. Instead, I offer thanks, even for those days when I didn’t want to be part of it, when I swam to the shore, coughing and spitting out the anxiety, crying out the salty worry, spent and exhausted from trying to swim against the current. All these silly mixed metaphors have me feeling a little muddled, and what I originally wanted to be a contemplative birthday post has turned into something slightly different. The unexpected accident, the messy inconvenience of being human. What I most wanted life to be – something pretty, something perfect – is precisely what a human’s life can never be.
We’ll meet again someday We’ll smile and then I’ll say: “When it rains, it pours all day Until love can find its way”
Now, listen to the words I’m saying In this line that your life will be just fine, And troubles, they do not stay, They get replaced with good times Now you’ve got a great life, Smile as you walk by Need to reawake now LIsten to these words that I’m saying in this line And your life will be just fine Troubles, they do not stay They get replaced with good times Now you’ve got a great life Smilin’ ’bout the day…
And I heard that there’s a special place Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day…
In my daydreams and night-dreams, I can dance without the annoying tinge of a bothersome and aging back. I can sing without the heaviness of loss or lamentation. I can ride a pink pony into the summer dawn, bounding along shores of ocean and gliding over edges of sky. Summer is so largely imagined, so grandly envisioned. Summer… so much in my head.
I’m up and jaws are on the floor Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door Blacklights and a mirrored disco ball Every night’s another reason why I left it all…
God, what have you done? You’re a pink pony girl And you dance at the club Oh mama, I’m just having fun On the stage in my heels It’s where I belong down at the Pink Pony Club
All sparkle of sun and sea, all shine of dew and drops, all summer sweetness and soft sighs. A melancholic meter keeps steady time – the hollow cadence of minutes and hours droning on beneath the welcome heat of the sun, already different than it was in June, already less. And so we dance, and we keep on dancing, and the pink pony prances…
I’m gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club I’m gonna keep on dancing down in West Hollywood I’m gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club
