Category Archives: General

This week we usher January 2019 on its way, closing out the first full month of winter. Not a bad beginning for the wretched season, though it’s far from over. Still, the beginning is often the hardest, and we are beyond it now .On with the past week, so we can get a move on the next one…

A new favorite restaurant in Boston: Whaling in Oklahoma. 

These TinyThreads weaved their wild way through this site. 

Shirtless male celebrities headed up this post to warm you up. 

This Dry January made possible through mocktail madness. 

They sang from the diaphragm a lot: review of ‘Spamalot.’ 

Say yes to abelskivers.

Madonna briefly went back to her roots. 

A Boston winter respite, Part One and Part Two.

A culinary & social experience: our virgin virtual brunch. 

The Hunks of the Day kept things hot, including Vincent Rodriguez, Cheyenne Parker, Jake Choi, Paul Alexander Nolan, Hung Vanngo, and Rami Malek.

Winter, oh harsh and unforgiving winter! We hear you! We see you! We know that you are here! 

If you’ve been able to dig yourself out of the white stuff (I watched the snow plows and my hero/husband Andy do the heavy work from a safe and warm vantage point: our conversation couch) then I congratulate you and welcome you to enjoy a brief respite in the form of our Monday recap. Sit for a spell, grab a cup of coffee or tea, and warm yourself by the fiery posts encapsulated in this quick rundown. Winter is not for wimps.

For some light-hearted whimsical frivolity (after all, why else are you here?) follow the #TinyThreads back to their beginning. It’s a fun ride. 

This is gonna leave a mark.

A Valentine’s Day gift wish.

Their ears were watching us. 

The passing of a great poet.

My Mom’s birthday.

Bringing the Madge-ic back. 

The Madonna Timeline returned with ‘Secret Garden’ from the ‘Erotica’ era.

My egg is so much better than Twitter’s egg.

Zac Efron got all sweaty and shirtless for your viewing pleasure. 

A forest of dead Christmas trees.

My very first cleanse, of sorts.

Keeping things nice and toasty for this wintry week were the Hunks of the Day: Mike Parrow, Evan Betts,  Lin-Manuel Miranda, Jeff Leatham, Colton Underwood, Billy Porter, Harry Shum Jr., and Dan Levy.

New Year’s Resolutions and cleanses and all that nonsense have always held absolutely no allure for me. They don’t last, and the people who seem to espouse them the most are the ones who deny ever saying such tripe by the time February ends. This year, however, I’m trying my hand at a bit of a cleanse, and a booze-free January. In truth, I started before last year ended, so technically it’s not a New Year’s resolution. Maybe that’s why is hasn’t been that difficult to do.

Despite most outward appearances, I’m a pretty disciplined person. This blog hasn’t received daily updates from a slacker for the past fifteen years. When I set my mind to something, it gets done. For the past few weeks, that’s been about getting in better shape and making it a dry January. Each feeds into the other, so it’s been working out well, and perhaps I’ll carry it forward into February as well. (I’m not going to lie: I really just want to fit into my former pants because I have too many to afford going up another waist size.) But I do also want to get a little healthier. The body doesn’t bounce back like it did in my 20’s. Or even 30’s.

Luckily, a healthier lifestyle will also inform a new project, which is in its earliest embryonic state. A complete turnaround from the PVRTD project of last year, it’s going to be a doozy of a different feather. But that’s far, far in the future. The task at hand is a combination of better eating habits, more exercise, and some meditation both mindful and mindless. That’s enough for now.

There is some photograph of an egg that just broke Twitter records for most liked or most tweeted or most ejaculated on image in history. Blah and blech. These photos are much more interesting to me. Notice the cherry blossom bowl! Notice the dimple in the egg white! Notice the passage of time from one pic to the next! This is action. This is life. This is the beginning and the end in two metaphoric images. 

Now go follow me on Twitter to see all my stupid tweets. 

Or better yet, make it Instagram. I’m cheekier there. 

A few days ago I was standing in the kitchen asking Andy to pick up a jar of Maille cornichons. My phone was three rooms away, blocked by three walls (but apparently not powered down). I’ve never asked for these cornichons before, nor have I written about or referenced them online in any form. I didn’t even know how to pronounce the name, giving up after two feeble attempts and pointing at the jar so Andy could see what I was talking about.

The next morning I received my first-ever sponsored ad on Facebook for Maille Black Mustard Truffle Mustard. We don’t have Alexa, our computers were off, and Andy is not even on Facebook, so there would be no way to make any sort of connection between us for this to happen. Coincidence? Big Brother? Big Sister?

I’m told it’s a possible combination of our phones or computers being on. I don’t think so. Andy didn’t even hear or understand that I was saying ‘Maille’ so I don’t see how my phone three rooms away could. If his phone was picking it up, how did it end up on my FaceBook page? He doesn’t have a FaceBook account.

Anyway, it’s not that big a deal, just puzzling. I’ve broadcast much more revealing things than demanding a new jar of cornichons.

Almost halfway through the month of January, we pause for our weekly Monday morning recap. The holidays are already an ever-dimming memory, while winter jabs and pokes at us with icy pincers. We are in a holding pattern until it’s time to stir in March. On with the recap…

For shits and giggles, check out the #TinyThreads series. When you reach the end of one, click the “#TinyThreads” link at the bottom of the brief posts and follow them back. It’s fun. Try it. If you’re patient you can follow all the way back to the very first TT post. 

All fruit, no labor.

My 9th anniversary of being on Twitter came and went. 

I prefer flora to fauna.

Cristiano Ronaldo in wet underwear.

Mary Poppins returned with a treasure trove of childhood memories. 

The last days of a Christmas tree.

A lovely pianist duel/duet.

Get a Clue. 

Another project, already.

Doing their best to keep things warm were the Hunks of the Day: Brian Kenny, Austin Wallis, Ed Krassenstein, Brian Krassenstein, John David Washington and Keith Laue.

This will be a bit of a working weekend in Boston, as I begin preliminary preparation for the next project. That’s the fun part, though, so it’s not really work in the sense of drudgery or duty. This is the time when I have a few slim notions in my head, a few themes knocking about and looking for direction. Here is where I will rely on the universe to nudge me in the right direction and help a more definitive idea etch itself out in my mind. It always does, in relative ease too. I’ll suddenly see a motif everywhere I look – a certain color palette repeated throughout the day and in the most disparate places. The same song will play on the radio, then in a store, then on the computer. A book will be on display in the bookstore then show up on my social media feed then be mentioned by a friend. All of these coincidences I will take as signs, and they invariably lead me to the creative project I will conjure next. The key is to be open and observant. That means being ready to listen and be quiet. It is, oddly enough, my resting stance, so this is familiar, comfortable territory.

This also means that during a time of creation the blog takes a backseat to other endeavors. Usually when that happens I’ll populate posts with pictures of shirtless male celebrities or the like and viewership will increase dramatically. The more substantial and meaningful my posts are, the less they are viewed. Sigh. 

As we gear up for that lull, bookmark this page so you can revisit these projects if you’d like. The photos – almost all here – are throwbacks to a more innocent, youthful period of a slimmer stomach, darker hair, and relative carefree attitude. May we return there soon…

PREVIOUS PROJECTS:

• StoneLight
• The Circus Project
• A Night at the Hotel Chelsea
• A 21st Century Renaissance: The Resurrection Tour
• Bardo: The Dream Surreal
• The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star
• PVRTD

Andy marked the date down weeks ago. It’s one of our favorite silly movie, but unlike Andy I’ve never been lucky enough to see it on the big screen. This Monday that will change, as ‘Clue’ is playing at the Palace Theatre, and after a dinner at dp we’ll be taking part in the madcap murderous mayhem.  Everyone has a favorite line or zinger from this movie – mine is “I am determined to enjoy myself!” Along those lines everyone also has a favorite character that they most resemble. Such broad archetypes never really manage to encompass the more contradictory and complex among us, but if I had to choose I’d be a cross between Mrs. Peacock (those glorious feathers!) and Ms. Scarlet. Andy thinks I’m closer to Mrs. White, but for the sake of him and his own… you know… he’d better hope he’s wrong.

It would be impossible to come up with anything, no matter how perfect, to match the storied history that Suzie and I have (half-real, a quarter conjured, and a quarter, no doubt, make-believe) with Mary Poppins. It is one of the first memories I have with Suzie and it’s remained part of our legend and lore for over four decades. When a movie and its music is that deep in one’s lexicon, any sort of update, sequel, or related entity is doomed to pale in comparison. Happily, Ms. Poppins, and her whimsical lessons of life, manage to retain the magic and wonder of the original, and may just be the classic continuation to see the character through a new generation.

It helps immensely that the film revolves around a winning performance by Emily Blunt, and energetic support from Lin-Manuel Miranda. Guest turns by Meryl Streep, Noma Dumezweni, Colin Firth, Angela Lansbury, Dick Van Dyke, and a trio of preciously precocious but not grating children round things out in sparkling fashion. The costumes are deliciously exquisite – sumptuous in color and design – and the animation is seamlessly drawn in, whimsically enchanting for children and adults alike. The story is serviceable, and where it lacks the compelling family transformation of the first, a more somber undertone of loss runs through it, giving the grounding it needs for such fantastical flights of fancy. Mary Poppins is about delight and wonder, and how to conjure each in a world of dim adulthood. 

As Suzie and I sat there next to her kids, nearly forty years after we sat at a showing of the original, I pondered part of our journey. As they boarded a cartoon carriage onscreen and rode through a porcelain path of Royal Doulton, I thought of those happy moments beneath a grape arbor or wandering through the forest of a Renaissance fair. Of course I also recalled our first viewing of ‘Mary Poppins’ in the same mall. A finger crushed in the car window. A platter of fried clams. It meant more to us than it could to anyone else in the theater, but that’s the way it’s always been. 

Given today’s nine-filled date, I was reminded that Twitter recently sent me notice that my 9^thanniversary of having joined the social network came on New Year’s Day. (Guess I was bored at the family dinner and signed up to start tweeting about it.) So… nine whopping years of tweets… and nothing to show for it. I shudder to think how many years I’ve wasted on FaceBook… I came relatively late to the Instagram party, so I feel a bit better about that.

All of this makes me pause and take stock of how social media has become such a part of our lives. My formative years were spent without such stuff, and I’m better for it. Having worked in human resources for well over a decade, I’ve seen the changing shifts in job applicants, and it’s decidedly unimpressive. Gone are the days when one crafted an error-free cover letter or carefully-curated resume. Gone are the days of candidates who could attend an interview and actually engage in and follow a conversational thread. Some of it may be attributed to the way the current generation processes everything on their phones, not worrying about spelling full words or figuring out how to make sustained eye contact or simply focusing on a single topic for more than two minutes. But now I’m losing sight of the whole point of this nine-centric post (credit my burgeoning crotchety-old-man attitude – you knew it was coming – hell, it’s been coming for forty years).

What does one do for a Twitter anniversary? For starters, follow me: @alanilagan. Then never open the app again, because the only thing worse than Twitter is FaceBook.

Luxury is assembling a fruit salad in the middle of winter, and I’ve never not appreciated such charming circumstances. The idea of having a selection of various citrus – grapefruit, oranges, tangerines – and apples and berries and kiwi and pineapple – in the midst of frigid weather is a lovely thing. I complain a lot, but it’s all for show. My heart is filled with gratitude as much as my stomach is filled with the apples seen here. Most of us are luckier than we realize. A visit or glimpse into the rest of the world is proof of that.

Not that we need to dwell there, not in this corner of the internet anyway. There is enough ugliness to be found in other places. Here, we shall have beauty. Here, we shall have art. Here, we shall have only the prettiest, most enchanting and magical moments we can conjure.

For today, we shall have an orange and some apples. In the middle of a raging winter. Through the eyes of a website.

Try some… eat one.

There was no Monday recap last week because it was New Year’s Eve, and this blog was pre-occupied with all the hunks that had paraded for your viewing pleasure the year before. Then came the ‘Year in Review – Part One and Part Two’ which seemed like more than enough recaps for the week. So this post will do double duty and recall posts from the last two weeks, just so nothing, and no one, gets left out. People, and Hunks, can be so sensitive sometimes. On with the show…

It began with the official end of fall.

A secret Russian Christmas tea.

Winter arrives. 

I was surrounded by nine children, and I lived to tell the tale. 

Sexy Christmas assholes. 

Christmas Eve.

Holiday, celebration…

The first set of Hunks of the Day included Sam Salter, Daniel Cifonelli, David Muir, Glenn McCuen, Matt Turner, Max Evans and Thom Evans.

Post-holiday stress disorder.

Leather & blush: when Tom Ford intertwines.

Christmas dinner: a seven-dish Filipino feast.

Top Nine of 2018: the bare butt edition.

The New Year began with a bang by Britney.

An egg.

Peace in. 

Char-who-to-what?

A birthday, a pencil, a childhood memory.

Pietro Boselli’s naked ass. 

Picture me in a leopard-print onesie, or just click here. 

This blog is bringing sexy back, starting with this salacious post, and continuing with this one filled with gratuitous male nudity. 

The second set of Hunks of the Day featured David Copperfield, Noah Centineo, Sam Asghari, Cauã Reymond, Mina Gerges, Prince Fielder, Jake Mace, Seth Rogen and Alessandro Florenzi.

When I was a kid, I was very grateful that my birthday fell during summer vacation (August 24, in case anyone wants to start saving up, and you should). I couldn’t imagine having to spend your birthday in school, bringing in cupcakes for the other kids and having to share your special day with the masses. (I’ve also never been a fan of the big birthday party where all the kids are invited – I kept my gatherings to Suzie and one or two other people, quite happily.) What brings this to mind is the date: January 4. I suddenly and out of the blue recalled that this was the birthday of one of my childhood friends, Jill. I don’t remember how she celebrated or what sort of cupcakes she brought in to school, but I know she must have had a few birthdays at McNulty, as did most of the class. Summer babies were not as common as those populating the rest of the year given our two-month window.

Jill was one of the top students in the class, and she had a special pencil to which I attributed all her success. It was a simple #2 yellow pencil, the kind we all had, but it had been worn and whittled down to a manageable two-thirds of its original length – perfect for a kid’s smaller hands. It also had a worn and perfectly rounded eraser on its end – the whole thing achieving a darker patina and lived-in vibe that appealed to my search for comfort. A new pencil had to be broken in and used before it became comfortable, its sharper edges dulled to a softer feel. I coveted Jill’s because it glided with ease across the page, and she could make the neatest hand-writing with it. At least, that was the questionable reasoning I worked out in my head.

For months, I begged her for that pencil. Every time there was something I had that she wanted, I offered to trade it for the pencil. Snacks, markers, fancy erasers, a place in front of me in line – I tried all the tactics a school kid once used to get ahead in the classroom – all to no avail. Through my desperation she had seen the value of that magical pencil, and she held onto it all the tighter. I didn’t blame her. But I didn’t give up.

Eventually, I had something she wanted just as badly as I wanted the pencil. I don’t remember what it was – obviously it wasn’t anything that meant much to me – but she gave in and traded me for it. As with all similar stories, the magic left the pencil as soon as it was in my hands. My writing didn’t suddenly turn neater. My test scores didn’t suddenly change. Though I liked the way it felt in my hand, and the way it wrote across the page, it didn’t magically transform my life the way I thought, and expected, it would.

Still, it was a good trade, and Jill was a good friend. It’s a happy memory because it reminds me of how our school-day drama was once about a magical pencil and not a gun. It was about birthday cupcakes and bags filled with Valentine cards. It was, I fear to say it, a better time.

Here’s wishing a Happy Birthday to Jill, wherever she may be. (And thanks for the pencil.)