Category Archives: General

The Winter Olympics are in full-figure-skating swing, and every year I promise not to get so obsessed with the thing. I failed miserably, and I am once again enthralled with the quads and the triples and the spins and the falls. This site is a bit obsessed with the Olympics, as you will see in this recap. If you’re not, there’s still some fun posts in between the athletes. Watch and see. 

We began with a little Hanky Panky – cause there’s nothing like a good spanky. 

A cleaning frenzy brought about a bout of nostalgia. 

The list of Winter Olympic Hunks was long, and it included a naked Matteo Guarise, a naked Apolo Ohno, a shirtless Chris Mazdzer, a shirtless Andrew Kurka, and a spandexed Tucker West.

A drag queen named Milk. 

My nostalgia kick continued in earnest with this post and that post. 

Mesmerizing.

Transfixing.

Magnificent. 

Words pale in comparison to the enchanting way light passes through the stained glass windows of Washington National Cathedral. It must be seen to be believed and appreciated. 

Stained glass time lapse, Washington National Cathedral from Colin Winterbottom on Vimeo.

Here’s the write-up that explains some of the beauty:

This time lapse video — part of the exhibition “Scaling Washington” at the National Building Museum — highlights the movement of stained glass light at the Washington National Cathedral. Photographer Colin Winterbottom was making fine art and documentary photographs of earthquake repairs at the Cathedral when he noticed the beautiful spray of colored light moving through scaffolded work spaces. He had little experience making time lapse, but thought the phenomenon had to be captured, especially as it moved over surfaces across time.

The final video shows movement of light through areas of the Cathedral familiar to visitors as well as through temporary work spaces with limited access. Most of these vantages could only be accessed while scaffold was in place. The opening and closing images, for example — with the west rose window centered straight ahead within the nave — cannot be recreated now that scaffold is down.

So open up your morning light
And say a little prayer for I
You know that if we are to stay alive
Then see the peace in every eye…

The class of ‘Dawson’s Creek‘ was a year or two younger than us, if I recall correctly, but we’ll use this winsome theme song nonetheless. (We were actually the same age as the fictional class of the original ‘Beverly Hills 90210‘ and practically went through the exact same things. (I almost cut a chunk out of my eyebrows to be more like Dylan. NOT.)

By 1995, I had grown into myself a little bit more. It was pretty much the year I finally began to acknowledge that I was possibly, shock of shocks, the slightest bit gay. (A couple of dicks in my mouth would soon confirm it, as would these lace sleeves.)

I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over,
I want to know right now, what will it be?
I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over,
Will it be yes or will it be…sorry?

Not quite twenty years of age, Suzie and I didn’t do much in the way of drinking or drugging, choosing to get our kicks off Route 66 and in a matching pair of velvet shirts from Bonwit Teller. I distinctly remember this day – it was a sad gray one in March, the kind that personify Ithaca and its litany of suicides over the years. Suzie and I had gone to visit one of the bridges from which students occasionally jumped, and it set a pall over the already-depressive proceedings. March is always a difficult month for some of us, and this day in particular was trying, so we did what we often do: found a shopping excursion, bought a stupid clothing item, and laughed our way away from the crying ledge. Only Suzie could do that (with a little help from Bonwit Teller).

You look at me from across the room
You’re wearing your anguish again
Believe me I know the feeling
It sucks you into the jaws of anger(oooooooh)
So breathe a little more deeply my love
All we have is this very moment
And I don’t want to do what his father,
And his father, and his father did,
I want to be here now.

Sometimes I marvel at how we made it through that time in our lives. Everyone marvels at the past at some point, and all that they’ve been through. We all go through patches where it feels too forlorn and hopeless for there to be much sense in life. Somehow, if we’re strong enough, if we’ve found enough love in the world, we keep going. 

I was lucky enough to have the right friends and family to see me through the dark stretches. 

So open up your morning light,
And say a little prayer for I
You know that if we are to stay alive,
And see the peace in every eye…

Olympic champion and current commentator for the Winter Olympics, this is Apolo Ohno, and it looks like he skated so fast all his clothes fell off. (Not an easy feat, given those extra-meaty thighs.) Naked Olympians are nothing new in these parts, as witnessed by the clothing-free shenanigans of Gus Kenworthy, Matteo Guarise, Greg Louganis, Evan Lysacek and Michael Phelps.

[POSSIBLE DRAG RACE SPOILER!]

Polarizing Drag Race contestant Milk was eliminated last night from RuPaul’s Drag Race, and though the general consensus was one of relief, many didn’t believe he as the weakest queen. (Personally, I thought he was fabulous, nervy, dramatic and fun.) This post is not about to engage in that divisive convo, however, but rather to celebrate the kind of body that Milk results in. (Well, his history of figure skating doesn’t hurt either.) Best of all, this post sets up Dan Donigan as a future Hunk of the Day – all it will take is a sexy photoshoot or two. Big & Milky indeed.

We don’t yet know, as of this writing, who the hell is going to win this year’s Super Bowl, but as my friend Skip put it, who cares? I’m right there. I stayed with the nonsense to see what, if anything, Justin Timberlake was going to do to challenge Madonna for an epic halftime performance. Again, this was written before it all went down, so who knows, and who really cares? Nobody beats the Queen. On with the recap of the last week before a brief break.

We began with the beginning of February. 

Silver and shine.

Satin robe, feathers so fine. 

A gratuitous Tom Brady Super Bowl post. 

A naked Justin Timberlake post. 

Super Bowl spotlight on Rex Burkhead. 

A super cocktail. 

Hunks of the Day included Jordan Bruno, Kem Cetinay, Oliver Cheshire, Malcolm Butler, and Allan Kayser, a.k.a. Bubba. 

The stage has already been set for this silly bit of glamorous make-believe. You know, satin sheets and luxuries so fine… As the wind howls and the sun goes to sleep, it’s the perfect time to hunker down beside a fireplace, pull on a blanket, watch some TV and lazily thumb through the new White Flower Farm catalog. Dreaming of verdant gardens with bountiful blooms, warm breezes perfumed with rose and lavender, I drape first my robe then myself over the sofa and tufted table.

A contented sigh signals the weekend at hand.

When the world reveals its darker side, and everything seems to be falling apart, I snuggle in closer to the home life Andy and I have crafted together. And just because it’s only the two of us doesn’t mean one of us can’t be decked out in the ruffled finery of a satin robe.

These silly comforts, these sources of coziness in the winter – they conspire to warm the heart and the home. 

Winter Water.

L’Eau d’Hiver.

Shades of gray.

Pools of light.

Silken snow and snowy silk.

This room, with a corner fireplace, a new sofa, and soothingly cool color scheme is where we shall spend much of the winter. It’s below-ground, for the most part, and though some basements are dark and dank, ours is filled with light and warmth. Many years ago a tree fell through the roof of our house, knocking out electricity and leaving a hole in the attic, where cold and ice and squirrels could enter. The basement was the only source of heat, thanks to the fireplace. To this day, it remains a refuge from the winter.

For the past few months I’ve been working on a superficial renovation of sorts. A new color palette of aqua and turquoise has replaced the outdated golden yellow of the walls. A new couch in a subtle sea color, with a chaise extension, adds a modern mid-century focal point to the area, and a tufted coffee-table lends a bit of classical richness. (It’s probably my favorite part of the room right now.)

The book-heavy and tchotchke-laden shelves have been revamped with a collection of silver and mirrored items, giving an added dimension of sparkle and light, as does a circular wall mirror surrounded in mosaic mother-of-pearl accents. The flaming red elephant curtains have been replaced by a silvery damask velvet in a soft shade of seafoam. Accent pillows in white Mongolian fur and scalloped cream provide more whimsical lightness, as does a modern white chair for the office area.

A softer fragrance is needed for such a soft room, where refined yet simple elegance reigns. I’ve chosen the quiet ~ L’Eau d’Hiver ~ an exquisite offering from Jean Claude Ellena. It whispers and stays close to the skin; an extremely intimate affair that delicately mirrors the way the space draws one in, demanding a closer examination, begging to be touched. If scents had physical textures, this would be silk and velvet and gossamer wings.

I wanted it to feel like a cross between Auntie Mame’s first entrance-room make-over – the one with the blue velvet couch, brilliant chandelier, and silvers and gray – incorporating some 20’s art deco mirrors, a bit of 50’s simplicity and elegance, and her next-to-last room makeover in which she serves her ‘Flaming Mame’ cocktail and hat pickled rattlesnake hors d’oeuvre. Both are airy and a little eccentric, with baubles that sparkle, and a color scheme that is big on light blues and turquoise and silvers and grays.

It is the perfect backdrop to a scene of elegant cocktail gatherings, fasten-your-seatbelts party intrigue, and lounging in feathery robes and flowing silken garments, where glamorous movie stars languidly recline while serving bon-bons of wit on shiny silver-tongued platters.

That’s what I’m telling myself anyway, and we’re all entitled to a little delusional vanity in the winter months. Flights of fancy, even if they’re only in your head, were never more welcome than now.

Welcome to the shortest month of the year, and may it feel as much too. Hot (or cold) on the heels of a Super Blue Blood Moon, we enter the final full month of winter. We’re on the track, baby, but we’ve got a way to go. Before getting started, however, let’s take a quick look-see back at the shortest months that came before. 

• February 2010 ~ Only two entries remain from this year. That may be for the best. 
• February 2011 ~ Sooner or Later… and not much else mattered. 
• February 2012 ~ David Beckham, Madonna, and a 20-year secret. 
• February 2013 ~ Hunks and narcissism. 
• February 2014 ~ Male models, naked men, and Tom Ford. 
• February 2015 ~ Fashion, flowers, food and then some. 
• February 2016 ~ More flowers, more hunks, and a brother’s birthday. 
• February 2017 ~ Ice ice, baby 

This was my utterly ridiculous Grammys-watching outfit, inspired by a little Madonna lace and rosaries, and Tom Ford shades. I’m too old to know half the performers these days, but it’s fun to watch the red carpet. On with the last week before I start planning my Oscars ensemble…

The week started by saying goodbye: the loss of a dear family friend.

Comfort is a cardinal.

A family project. 

The moon brings out a little madness in all of us.

A new fragrance to revive the winter. 

A Valentine kiss from the Beekman Boys. 

A hunk that spans the Winter and Summer Olympics: Pita Taufatofua. 

Cocktail hour with Lawrence Welk.

My hints on mastering your own social media. 

Hints of spring found at the market. 

Hunks of the Day included Eric Radford, Tim Chase, John Coughlin, and Nick Cunningham. 

Certain people in certain circles have given me more credit than I probably deserve as far as social media mastery goes. However, after doing this for a number of years, and amassing a relatively decent following on various social media sites, it may be true that I have a few pointers to help some people out. This won’t offer an instant, magical solution for gaining more followers on FaceBook or Tweeter or Instagram, but it offers some insight into what makes social media enjoyable for me, and how I inadvertently built a sizable group of online friends. Most of this is geared toward Twitter and Instagram; FaceBook has been boring me to tears lately.

One of the main things to remember is that your social media presence is only going to be as good as what you put into it. Many people get discouraged early on because they expect an immediate multitude of followers, and when nothing happens they feel isolated and uninspired. If you’re looking to be made happy or whole by social media, don’t even bother beginning. This is not the place for finding self-worth.

It is, however, a place to engage and interact, and those are the two most important things you can do on social media. The name says it all: social. This is not the time to be a wallflower. Follow people- those you admire, those who make you laugh, and all those whom you actually know. Retweet, share, and comment on those posts that you enjoy. Be somewhat selective, but be interested and engaged in everything when you’re online.

Be patient. Followers don’t follow overnight. Build a rapport with people you know. Reveal your obsessions and cull interaction from those who share the same interests and passions. Tweet to your idols – not incessantly, just when it’s important. Be genuine and authentic. You can’t send the same ‘personal’ tweet out to a hundred different people and expect it to mean something.

Be judicious and careful with hash-tagging. We live in a #HashtagWorld, filled with #HashtagHappy posts. The trick is to find a balance. (These can also act as talismans to ward off trolls. When my Twitter account was being deluged by racist and homophobic Trumpsters, I started using #ImpeachTrump and they largely went away. Russian bots seem to know that engaging with that hash-tag (or #TrumpRussia for example) is actually giving it more power by replying, and that will only make Voldemort Trump angry).

Use photos to your advantage. Get creative. Stand out. Re-think standard poses and angles and cropping options. Indulge in the occasional avant-garde foray. Use good lighting and don’t ever make a duck face. (Duck faces are for people who go on to abuse their Uber drivers with entitled cry-baby behavior, only to have it filmed and lose their jobs over it later.) Bonus points if you avoid posing in a mirror (that’s amateur hour). Exposing a selfie stick is also cheesy as Patti Labelle’s Over the Rainbow Mac-and-Cheese, and she uses a ton of Velveeta.

I’m not going to lie: shirtless and skin-heavy shots rack up the likes and follows because sex sells. That’s how some otherwise bland people (guilty) get a lot of followers (people are thirsty!) but there’s got to be something to keep them following you.

Post consistently. You need not be completely consistent in content, as a little variation keeps things interesting, but if you are serious about gaining followers and carving a presence online, you’ve got to be present. A few well-thought-out tweets or photos a day are ample. If you disappear for weeks at a time without explanation, people will leave. That’s the nature of the beast. The online world is more fickle than any other. An instant is a lifetime, and no one waits very long no matter how good your output might be. That said, the other extreme – too much posting – can be just as repellent. There are some who ascribe to the adage that one can never post too much. I disagree, at least if you want to build a quality social circle. A little bit of absence makes the heart grow fonder. There’s no sure-fire calculation on the balance – it’s whatever works best for you.

Proofread what you are posting. Twice. I can’t tell you the number of otherwise witty and wonderful posts I’ve not retweeted or shared due to a spelling or grammatical error. It takes all the power out of whatever the message might have been. Serious comments look stupid. Funny responses lose their humor. Touching words sound silly. All because you were to quick or lazy too sea that your posting had errors. See what I peen? The degradation of such things matters. Push against it and rise above. People will take you more seriously.

That said, don’t take any of this too seriously. Social media should be fun and enjoyable. This is not where you should get your hard news, even if it offers a platform for sharing such items. This is not where you should air personal and private family grievances. This is not where you should engage in couples counseling for the world to see. Don’t get me wrong, we will watch and you will get noticed, but we will also take screenshots and so will the person with whom you are arguing.

Finally, don’t forget that your real life exists off the phone and computer. A simple hug in person is worth more than a billion followers who ‘like’ something you posted. All the online love in the world cannot compare to the real thing, and once you realize that, you’ve already discovered the biggest secret to social media. Oh, and don’t forget to follow @alanilagan on Twitter and Instagram. It will be the best thing you ever did. (Did I mention to ignore all hype and hoopla by shameless bloggers?)

Those busy Beekman Boys are giving us a treat for Valentine’s Day by releasing several beautiful cards for you to print out for anyone who deserves a little extra love in next month’s high holiday. Check out their page of cards here, and pick your favorite to print out.

It’s rare to get something for nothing these days, but Brent and Josh seem to know that giving gleans its own rewards. There is beauty in that, and a generosity that we need now more than ever. Thanks boys!

Outside the bedroom, a flash of red alighted in the Wolf’s Eye dogwood tree. In its upward-reaching branches, an old bird’s nest from the summer was still intact, nestled snugly in the crux of the three wooden spokes. Two cardinals perched in the mottled architectural flourishes of the little tree. The pair of them – one vibrant and crimson, the other more muted in softer hues of mauve and gray – were beautiful against the dull shades of winter. Both were a sight to behold. They chirped to one another while the brighter of the two fussed with the old nest. I didn’t think birds re-used the nests of other birds, but what do I know? It makes sense, I guess, particularly if one has proven able to withstand the whipping winds of this blustery year and hasn’t been ripped to the ground. The cardinals didn’t seem to be looking to move in completely, just visiting and inspecting.

Of course, that’s what Andy and I were doing when we ended up getting our home almost 15 years ago. I hope these birds are half as lucky.

The government may be having its #TrumpShutdown as we speak, but this blog keeps right on plugging. No one gets paid for it either, unlike the Senate and House of Reps (who continue to draw a salary). Anyway, on with the previous week’s recap before I return on Thursday. Maybe the government will be up and running by then… 

The most insidious kind of telemarketers won’t stop calling me. 

Celebrating my mother’s birthday. 

A very happy retail experience. 

The light of winter. 

Hero and inspiration: a profile of writer Kevin Sessums. 

A review of Tom Ford’s ‘Fucking Fabulous’ Private Blend. 

“Rudeness is merely the expression of fear. People fear they won’t get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved and they will open up like a flower.” ~ ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’

A weekend in Boston is remembered with typical fondness. 

A winter lullaby, sans music. 

Monday morning is done. 

The Winter Olympics are in the air as Hunks of the Day included Chris Fogt, Jay Cutler, Nathan Chen, and Adam Rippon.

The earth doesn’t much care whether it’s Monday or Saturday morning, it’s still going to turn and give us each a day in the sun. It may obscure with clouds or storms, but there will be enough light to see and show us around, until it spins us into darkness for another night. There’s a comfort in the consistency, and strangely enough there is even comfort to be found in a Monday morning.

I’m not talking about the first second you wake to a screeching alarm. Or even the third time you awake after pressing the snooze button. But when you stumble into the kitchen to get your cup of coffee or tea, and the light is just beginning to show, and there is silence and peace and stillness, there is a comfort in that. In the moments before the week starts up, in the quiet aftermath of the weekend, there is a pause of solemnity. Sometimes a minute or two is enough for meditation. Anything to get you through the day.