Category Archives: General

You see them everywhere, but you don’t really see them.

They are all around us, all of the time.

Taking our money, taking our tickets, taking our place in line.

They give too.

Steaming food on hot plates. An icy decaf frappucino. A pile of new clothes, security sensors carefully removed.

Filler people.

People like Lionel Prichard.

You don’t know Lionel Prichard, I’ll bet.

Lionel Pritchard is everyone.

And no one.

He is a monster, maybe make-believe, maybe frighteningly real.

He’s from outer-space.

Or the farm down the road.

In truth (whatever that might be these days) Lionel Prichard is a character in the movie ‘Signs’ – the alien movie by M. Night Shyamalan, which finds one forlorn family making its way through an alien invasion. Lionel Prichard is a blip on the screen – at first they mistakenly attribute the strange alien behavior to him, then he is later seen in the small-town army office filling out some form.

He is background noise.

A nuisance character who in this instance adds to the tension and mystery.

We know his full name, but that is all.

The world is filled with Lionel Prichards. We don’t notice them for the most part, unless they step out of their unconsciously-assigned roles. The barista who forgets you ordered decaf. The sales-person who neglects to take off the security sensor. The server who added the order of fries to your bill but never brought them to the table. As is too often the case, we only really notice when things go wrong.

Once in a happy while, the good comes through too. The unexpected pay-it-forward moment in the Starbucks drive-through. The sweet compliment of a stranger on the day you were feeling so shitty. The exquisite winks of grace from, dare I say it, God. Lionel Prichard is there in those moments.  

They are the people who populate the world, but whom we never take the time to meet. To know.

Each one of them is the main character of their own sitcom or drama or movie or musical.

Each one is the star of their own story.

Whenever I’m flummoxed by someone’s behavior – bad or good – I think of Lionel Prichard. Most of us, whether we realize it or not, are Lionel Prichard. We are nobody to the vast majority of other people on this planet. It is a blessing and a curse to be so startlingly insignificant. But to the few, to the elect chosen ones we honor with a space of import in our otherwise unremarkable lives, we can be everything. The most meaningful and significant star in this small stretch of the universe. For those magnificent creatures, we must shine like the sun. And for all the other Lionel Prichards, we must remember to see their shine too.

Quite a few months before Madonna made the eye-patch all the momentary-rage, I was rocking the pirate look for the promos for the PVRTD project of November 2018. Inspiration comes in fits and rages, lapping like sea water, twinkling like stars. It’s there in black and white. Sometimes it’s bathed in magenta. Always, there is contrast and comparison, destiny and doom. The artist lives to create. To mirror. To unbalance. To discern. To fail and fall and fail again. To rise. 

I don’t pretend to be anything special when it comes to my creative projects. I do what I like and I like what I do. Putting it on a stage like this website is my weird way of confronting social fear, a strange sort of showing off for the introverted side of me that needs to be let out. 

Therapy via world-wide exposure. 

There’s only a little bit of risk involved.

That’s enough.  

The variable nature of our weather this season has many of us in a schizophrenic dance. Hot and sunny one day, cold and rainy the next, then right back up again a few hours later. It’s too extreme, too wild, too wide-ranging for those of us whose moods depend on some barometric stability. At such moments of meteorological oscillation, I find it best to dip into a stalwart sign of a season, in this instance summer, and focus on a memory or a feeling or the vague stirrings of a similar brush with the sublime.

These admittedly non-descript and rather ho-hum photos show off, as much as possible, the little buds of the Linden tree – an inconspicuous tree that is a large part of city landscaping, and whose unassuming flowers go largely unnoticed except when in bloom. Even then, only the perfume gets noticed, not the flowers themselves. In truth, it took me several years to figure out what the sweet scent in the air at this time of the year was. I was looking for something bold and bright and colorful, something like a lily or rose or lilac that would have the power and potency to fill the air with such fine fragrance.

It was a lesson in judging a book by its cover. Or a tree by its perfume. Or vice versa. I’m mixing metaphors and getting all anthropomorphic now, which means it’s time to wind up this quick pre-summer post.

Go out and find a linden tree before the ants get there.

A lot happened this past week – including Albany and Boston Pride (hence the featured rainbow jockstrap photo, ahem), the release of a new Madonna album and my annual Red Sox weekend with Skip – much of which is extensively documented here. Still on a bit of a high from all of it, let’s encapsulate the moments for posterity. This week officially turns the page from spring to summer, and there is more fun to be had. I just don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. On with the recap!

It began with a bit of Madonna excitement courtesy of Andy. 

These #TinyThreads unwound a bit. 

Unfancy some brunch. 

Skip and I set it off in Boston…

… with a Charles River walk…

… some stoop gazing…

… and a couple of Chinatown dinners. 

The anticipation of a new Madonna album.

The exuberant release of Madame X.

She’s coming back – she always does. 

The lone Hunk of the Day: Aaron Libby.

Some other hunks to tide you over until the official HOD returns. 

A summer song by James bring backs San Francisco memories. 

Happy Father’s Day!

BoyCulture introduced me to this bit of Madonna magic. 

In a week of Madonna ‘Madame X‘ mayhem, BoyCulture posted this glorious bit of Madonna fandom at its most adorable. It’s worth a look to see how far we’ve come from doing this in the privacy of our bedrooms to a stage for all the world to see. Come on boys, do you believe in love?

For better or worse, much of my life can be distilled to the three C’s:

• Clothing
• Cocktails
• Cologne

I’m not sorry that this is the case.

#TinyThreads

Still on a high from this year’s BroSox Adventure (stay tuned for that tale as old as time), I’m easing into the work-week while taking in the Tony Awards. Summer is practically here, and we’ve had a weekend of sunshine, so give me just a little more time to mourn the end of such a grand time. Let’s go back a week and start it all over again…

The #TinyThreads thread.

The Flower Clock begins its countdown.

Jason Momoa got shirtless. 

This Thursday marks the GLSEN Gala.

A hint of the BroSox Adventure to come. 

Once Upon a Project.

A family get-together for Memorial Day.

The Ilagan twins jumped stumps. 

Love bloomed with a visit from Tyler and Kevin. 

More of Albany in love.

Sunny days… sweeping the clouds away…

Hunks of the Day included Alan Bersten and Nick Dompierre.

Our annual Red Sox game weekend begins tomorrow, as Skip and I make our way to Boston for a game. I’m told the Sox aren’t performing in stellar fashion these days (my nice way of saying someone said they suck) but that doesn’t matter. To change things up a bit, we are doing a few things differently this year, starting with seats way out in right field. Or left field. One of the fields. In the bleachers. I was toying with the idea of bleaching my hair for the event, but that felt extreme for one game. If it was a double header I might have done it, but that will have to wait for another year. This time it’s one game, one night, and I don’t have the energy to be blonde right now.

We’re also going to aim for keeping things casual and cheap – a grand departure from, well, my entire life, but I’m game. It makes packing and planning easier when I only need a pair of sneakers, some ratty shirts, and a pair of shorts or jeans. Maybe that’s why most of my straight guy friends are so mellow – they don’t stress out over dressing well. I could get into that. Come to think of it, a lot of my gay friends do the same thing. Actually, maybe I’m the only person I know who makes such an effort to dress up anymore. This weekend I shall join the masses.

Other new forays, at least for Skip and I together, include Cambridge and Chinatown. We tend to stay closer to the condo – Copley, Newbury, the South End – with the occasional T-ride to Faneuil Hall. We’ll expand our repertoire, at least we’ll attempt it. The best-laid plans have a way of slipping into old habits. We’ve been doing this long enough that the years are blending together, but each trip has its own highlights and moments of demarcation. I can’t wait to see what those will be this time.

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…

Didn’t Gloria Estefan have a song that started like that? I think she did. Ask Suzie Ko – we had a Gloria Estefan moment in a Sears store a long time ago. So much has gone since then, including Sears. Anyway, it’s the Tuesday after a long holiday weekend, and nothing is worse than that, especially when it’s scheduled to rain, so this post will be slight and small and just the littlest bit whiny. Hey, it’s what you came for. Go somewhere else for all-we-need-is-positivity. (I heard the Spice Girls concert opened with huge sound problems. You’d think they would check that shit beforehand. I digress…)

Coming up, when I get around to it, will be a review of ‘The Cher Show’ and a few fun photos of my niece and nephew from our Memorial Day dinner. Both are better than they sound on virtual paper. In the meantime, I implore you to type whatever you want into the ‘Search’ box located somewhere below this post. It’s fun. I don’t like being reminded of the nonsense I may have written in the past, but others do. Check it out. Let’s get this unofficial summer season going.