Category Archives: General

GROWING UP, YOU DON’T SEE THE WRITING ON THE WALL

PASSING BY, MOVING STRAIGHT AHEAD, YOU KNEW IT ALL

BUT MAYBE SOMETIME IF YOU FEEL THE PAIN,

YOU’LL FIND YOU’RE ALL ALONE, EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED.

PLAY THE GAME, YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T QUIT UNTIL IT’S WON

SOLDIER ON, ONLY YOU CAN DO WHAT MUST BE DONE…

It began as a whim.

A one-off way to pass spring-break before I was old enough to drink, before I had my own car.

I called it a tour in the style of Madonna, my wanna-be tendencies in full effect, my dreams of being something better than I was that day. It was mostly just a few weekend jaunts to see my friends and stay with them in dorm rooms the size of closets, when I couldn’t afford or find a Super 8 or Motel 6. (I always did love a hotel, no matter how simple or plain.)

But as soon as I christened it a ‘tour’ the world seemed to change, to bend to this flight of fancy. Everything had a new kind of sparkle and gleam. It informed every moment. It changed the way I looked at the world, and in return the world changed the way it looked at me. It gave me an armor, and a character, and a way to maneuver in a shifting social landscape. That something so silly could become something so profound was one of the great cosmic jokes of my life.

YOU KNOW IN SOME WAY YOU’RE A LOT LIKE ME

YOU’RE JUST A PRISONER AND YOU’RE TRYING TO BREAK FREE.

I wanted to do it one last time. When you reach the age of 40, you don’t always know if you’re up for it again, but I had to try. Even if I failed spectacularly, it would be worth it. Even if it all came to nothing, I would have made the journey. Sometimes just going through the motions is enough. It gets you from one place to another. Sometimes that’s all you need to survive to the next morning.

I CAN SEE THE NEW HORIZON UNDERNEATH THE BLAZING SKY

I’LL BE WHERE THE EAGLE’S FLYING, HIGHER AND HIGHER

GONNA BE YOUR MAN IN MOTION, ALL I NEED IS A PAIR OF WHEELS

TAKE ME WHERE THE FUTURE’S LYING, ST. ELMO’S FIRE…

Contrary to the title of the thing, I was not delusional. That was the whole point of this exercise, and the point of it all over the past two decades. I’m not a celebrity, I’m not a star, and I never will be. But each of us has our own grandeur – the grandeur of our small, private lives – and each of us is afforded the ability to shine and burst and sparkle as much as any rock star. How will you access your own grandeur?

BURNING UP, DON’T KNOW JUST FAR I CAN GO

SOON BE HOME, ONLY JUST A FEW MILES DOWN THE ROAD

I CAN MAKE IT, I KNOW I CAN

YOU BROKE THE BOY IN ME, BUT YOU WON’T BREAK THE MAN.

Now that this tour is nearing its completion, I can look back at my touring days with a mixture of fondness, nostalgia, and absolutely no regrets. I did what I had to do, and saw it through! The supreme confidence and belief in yourself that it takes to put your own ass out there was something I’d always been missing – until I pretended I had it. The self-worth and self-importance that I purported to have grew from a mask into my genuine truth. I built things from the outside inward – the opposite and much more difficult path to self-acceptance, but I got there in the end, and that’s all that matters.

JUST ONCE IN HIS LIFE, A MAN HAS HIS TIME

AND MY TIME IS NOW, I’M COMING ALIVE!

I think back to the young guy who embarked on his first ‘tour’ in 1995. At nineteen years of age, he’d only ever kissed one other man. He knew little to nothing of love, yet found himself falling into it at every turn. His hair was jet black, and a little unruly. He drove his parents’ car, with a silk scarf billowing from the antenna, and a clumsy car phone he never did quite learn to use. He would travel to his college friends in upstate New York – Rochester and Ithaca and Potsdam – and he would find the only family who instantly accepted him for who he was – not for who he was trying to be or who the world wanted to see. He wore crazy outfits that he found pretty – shape-shifting and image-drifting whichever way the wind took him. His writing was often sad and serious, and his image sometimes reflected that, but on tour he acted like a star – above everything, shining brightly in the sky, and acting as beacon and bringer of all that sparkled. He was a man in motion, too scared to stay too still for too long, afraid that he might freeze there, afraid that it might mean something, afraid, perhaps, that he might mean something to someone, even if that was all he ever wanted.

I CAN HEAR THE MUSIC PLAYING, I CAN SEE THE BANNERS FLY

FEEL LIKE YOU’RE BACK AGAIN AND HOPE RIDING HIGH…

I CAN CLIMB THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN…

CROSS THE WILDEST SEA…

…and the way my body once was.

[Sigh]

When you hit the age of 35, the metabolism begins to slow.

When you hit the age of 40, the metabolism comes to a standstill.

And when I turned 41, it seemed my metabolism started to go backward, or whatever causes a person to gain weight and inches, and all I did to battle it was eat more stuff. Hey, I head in the opposite direction of conventional wisdom. Now I have to try to undo the laziness and the poor eating habits and try to get back into swimsuit-wearing form. (I have too many pants to lose…) Summer inspiration, here we come!

Is this the saddest sign ever? Whatever happened to something a little more hopeful? How about “Looking for a good home” or “Is this the next member of your family?” Instead this poor pooch gets a ‘For sale’. I didn’t even bother turning the sign over for further information – I didn’t want to know.

Stealing hearts and forming the catalyst for the romantic pyrotechnics on display at ‘Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812’, this is Lucas Steele, who plays the swashbuckling and slightly devilish Anatole (described quite succinctly in the prologue as simply ‘hot’). Mr. Steele preens and swaggers his way around the Imperial Theatre in one of the season’s flashiest and most entertaining performances. It easily earns him his first Hunk of the Day status. He joins fellow castmates Nicholas Belton and Josh Groban as the third member of the Great Comet to be named a Hunk of the Day. (By the way, I must find a way to get a copy of that green coat that Anatole wears in Act II, so if anyone knows someone with some Comet pull – Groban, I’m looking at you – hook a guy up!)

Flying through the month of May entirely too quickly for my liking – make it last, make it last, make it last – we find ourselves at the end of one week and the start of another. Hence this recap, a little later than usual due to the New York posts, but if the reason is always so good, let’s have it be late again.

Art, magic, and nature.

Memories of valley flowers.

Ostrich green.

Cuteness.

The Hemingway Daiquiri.

More cuteness.

A Broadway weekend with Mom begins.

A room with a view.

Awakened by a Great Comet.

A fabulous lunch and a double-diva evening.

A Manhattan in Manhattan.

Mother’s Day in New York.

hunks of the Day included Jay Byars, Douglas Sills, Gleb Savchenko, Ross Williams Wild, & Nicholas Belton.

A typical spring sight: a baby robin stretching for a worm from Mama.

These babies are not to be troubled, however, as their watchful parents will swoop and jab if you get too close and they feel threatened. It’s why we can’t allow them to make a nest near any outside living space. This nest was made in a young evergreen in the front yard, where we don’t usually hang out, and by the time we noticed it, the eggs were already hatching. The little one will soon be on the verge of leaving the nest, and then we will be out of harm’s way.

At certain times, when the light is just right and the vantage point works out, a photograph can turn itself into a painting. Unaltered and unfiltered. Such was the sky last night as the storms swept through the area.

This little creature was seen in my parents’ backyard, cowering in the garden after suffering some sort of trauma. While I’m not fans of the rabbits because of all the things they eat in our garden, they are adorable, and this baby bunny wins a slot in the somewhat-regular mid-day dose of cuteness.

Red.

Color of passion, color of zest, color of warning, color of life.

Spring.

Season of birth, season of hope, season of renewal, season of fashion.

When they get together it’s dynamic.

Fire and heat and sparks and sizzle.

Scarlet pizzazz.

It can be found in a flower or a shoe.

Beauty does not discriminate.

A confession: as much as I loved ‘Will & Grace’ when it aired, I stopped watching before the last season, and never really got back into it until the finale. I returned for that episode, and realized I was going to miss it, just a little bit. It wasn’t the same way i felt when ‘Ugly Betty’ was prematurely canceled, but it was a small emptiness, especially as I only watch two of three shows a year. Well, that ache is about to be eased, as W&G is returning. I only hope it’s as good as when it left. God knows I’m not.

PS – Bonus for the major ‘Sunset Boulevard‘ feature!

The madness of May comes as I wind down The Delusional Grandeur Tour, and this past weekend in New York City with my Mom will be documented as soon as I have a moment to breathe. That is not now, so here’s your regularly-scheduled look back at the week before.

It began with Darren Criss in a Speedo, a very good way to begin.

Spring has spring with a new cologne by Atelier.

Pietro Boselli in his briefs.

Zac Efron shirtless.

And our wedding anniversary in Boston: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, and Part Nine.

A single peony, a multitude of looks.

Are you ready for Hedwig in Schenectady?

Hunks of the Day included Steven Wenslawski, Josh Groan, & Euan Morton.

At the time that this is scheduled to be posted, my Mom and I will have hopefully finished up our Mother’s Day brunch in New York City, and will soon be on our way back home from a Broadway weekend. This post is a wish that she enjoys her special day, as well as a wish to all my friends who are mothers – and there are more than a few. (One year I tried to name them all on FaceBook, which went about as well as you can imagine.)

Mothers make the world go around, so there should really be more than just a day to honor them. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you!

I’ll do a more in-depth chronicle of our recent anniversary in Boston a little later – for now just a tantalizing glimpse of how beautiful the city can be at this time of the year, even when it rains. These petals had to come from somewhere…