Category Archives: General

The tropical elephant’s ears that made a spectacular, if slow-starting, show this summer could not handle the colder nights we’ve been having. Their beautiful canopies of waxy green foliage were no match for a freezing spell that decimated their cellular structure, reducing their expansive surface to wrinkled hoods of drooping despair.

There is a haunting beauty in these remnants, however, and a grace to anything so stricken at the height of its life. In the span of a single chilling night, it’s as if they decided they weren’t going to put on a show anymore, choosing instead to hide beneath their mottled hoods, turning themselves inside out to reveal their veiny support system, now lifeless and limp.

There’s an integrity to anything that gives up the ghost before the real chill of winter sets in.

Like lightning burning its fleeting design onto a swirling globe, so has this wooden sphere been scorched with enough heat to leave such artistic marks. A map of carbon, tributaries of burnt wood, fire and water joined in symbolic union – it’s all here. The greatest and simplest works of art draw disparate forces together, marrying aspects seemingly at odds with one another, and the resulting union can be one of tension or resolution.

Here, I find it’s one of peace and completion, all conflict resolved in a sphere of beauty. In this splendor, we can choose to peacefully coexist.

The scars may be indelibly burnt onto our little worlds, but they mark our journey and map out what we’ve learned. They show us where we’ve been and give clues as to where we might go.

There’s a lot going on in this work of art seen at Silver Fox Architectural Salvage. After a glorious brunch at dp, we drove a couple of blocks to check out what hidden treasures might be lurking at this trove of misfit objects. We’ll get to the monkeys later – for now, feast your eyes upon this three-dimensional shadow box of mythic proportion. Butterflies, roses, pussy willows and a wooden maiden. What more could a person want?

When I’m at my best, I’m pretty adept with the manipulation and machination of words to make a point or construe a sentence. Sometimes, a mere fragment is enough. Other times, lengthy ropes of letters and intertwined nets of words are required to fully capture and convey a thought or an emotion. However many characters or symbols one needs, communication is the end result of combining some very simple symbols – such as letters – into something that means more than their individual make-up.

These photos illustrate the raw materials of writing. They are the basic building blocks of communication and connection. This is how we begin to transmit knowledge. It brings me back to grade school, when we first learned how to form letters and then used them to form words. The circle of connection has a starting point after all.

As much as I dreaded school for social reasons, I didn’t mind the learning aspect, and reading was one of my favorite activities. The best parts of any school day were when the teacher would read to us from a book (I still remember the thrill I felt when our third grade teacher read ‘James and the Giant Peach’ to the class – the way a book could transport us to another world). In later years, we were left to make our own magic during ‘silent reading’ time, and while some took the opportunity to whisper and socialize, I would always find a remote niche, hunker down behind a bookcase, and immerse myself into the letters and words that meant escape and freedom.

Up until now I haven’t written much on the election results here because there’s honestly not much more to be said. I wish I could say that I’m surprised Donald Trump won the electoral college votes necessary to be named President of our great nation, but I’m not. My family and friends will confirm that I always had doubts that America would do the right thing.

I wish I could be shocked that America voted for this man.

I wish I had the hope and belief that America would never stand for him to be President.

I wish I was so assured in the days leading up to this election that good would triumph over evil and the American people would make the right choice.

If I’d had that, if I’d been raised to have such hopeful ideals, I might relish the days of those beliefs.

But I never thought that.

I never believed.

I never had such faith in this country.

Sadly, and not for the first or last time, I was right.

I could not be surprised that this country would elect a man who represented and refused to denounce racism, homophobia, bigotry, and hatred.

How could I be?

How could I be surprised by that when I had a background and upbringing that saw me called ‘sissy’ and ‘faggot’ and ridiculed and attacked me for being gay and different?  I still get called those names on social media on a regular basis – now more than ever. And I’m supposed to be surprised when our country elects a man who panders to the people who use those words? I’ve got a long litany of things I’ve seen online over the last few months – all from Trump supporters – things that denigrate and insult and threaten minorities and women and the LGBT+ community.

Why would I be surprised that this army of deplorable hate-filled people would vote in such a detestable person? And why would I believe polls that put him behind? Who would admit to such a thing before being given the sanction of an electoral college victory? I never bought into that.

When you’re locked in a grade school bathroom because some bully thinks you’re Chinese, you don’t believe that people are inherently good.

When you get rocks thrown at you and a group of kids calling you faggot as you’re walking home at night, you don’t have faith that people will vote for equality and acceptance.

When you get death threats on Twitter because you dare raise a voice against Donald Trump, you don’t trust that this country will make the right decision.

The sad thing is that I’m not more upset by this election – because I should be. If I was raised in a world that was right, I would be.

But I wasn’t.

And we aren’t.

That doesn’t mean I won’t keep fighting.

It does, however, go some way towards explaining why I will never judge anyone who doesn’t accept Donald Trump as our President. He doesn’t deserve it.

It was the week that our electoral college elected a monster, even if almost two million more people (and counting) voted for Hillary Clinton, but we here at ALANILAGAN.com are moving ahead with trepidatious optimism and the vow to never stop fighting for what is right and just.

We started in quiet and stillness.

Some things will always hold true.

A delicious brunch at dp.

A glorious and unlikely pair that makes me smile.

A moment of peace.

My niece and my nephew.

Autumn scene.

Everything must end.

Feeling down? Get dressed up.

This Jedi isn’t going underground anytime soon.

A heartfelt set list.

Madonna was always late for the Rebel Heart Tour, and so was this review.

Throughout it all, we still have the Hunks of the Day: Jesse Wellens, Jay Ellis & Mark-Paul Vosselaar.

Bonus: a shirtless Ryan Gosling and equally-shirtless Liam Hemsworth.

And for anyone feeling down or frightened or simply dismayed with the state of affairs at the moment, there is always hope, and as long as I’m able I’ll do my best to provide a little sanctuary and escape from the rest of the insanity.

Somewhere along this thirteen-year-old website’s journey things became less about me and more about that which inspired and tickled and sometimes offended me. Granted, it’s still from my perspective, and as long as it’s mine I’ll post whatever the hell I want, but day after day of myself gets boring, and you may have noticed that I’m not as interested in posting my own photos as I am of other things, other people, other inspirations.

I’ve also tended to steer clear of going full-on political, even though I will step into the muck from time to time when it’s warranted. However, there’s enough of that on my FaceBook and Twitter feeds, and I want to get back to the basics of what this blog was originally intended to be: a sanctuary of stillness and calm, with accents of eye candy and humor, where beauty and strangeness and contemplation exist in a peaceful realm.

Here is a list of several posts that exemplify what I most want this little piece of the internet to be. They warm my heart, so I’m hoping they warm yours too.

A walk in the woods.

A night in the dorm.

A dinner for family.

The beauty of a scarf.

Smudge this.

Entering Cambridge.

The beginning of an obsession.

The grandness of neroli.

Sailing through the storm.

A family affair.

Drawn by the undertow, my life is out of control.

When in doubt, make this cocktail.

And when you’re at your wit’s end, pamper yourself.

Yesterday I did what I haven’t done in months: spent the entire day inside the house. It was chilly outside, but the sun was pouring in our living room, the couch was fluffy with pillows, and ‘The Perfume Lover’ was on the table waiting to be opened. A Norfolk Island Pine gracefully drooped its evergreen fronds to my right, and I could begin to make out the roots of several Narcissus bulbs being forced into growth by the window. I pulled a cozy robe around me and sank into the sofa. French music by Franck played in the background as I turned the pages, lost in this tale of fragrance and perfume by Denyse Beaulieu.

Outside the window, wind tore down the leaves from the maples and dogwoods, while a Japanese umbrella pine swayed in its wake. Branches scratched against the glass panes, but all I felt was the warmth of the sun, and all I heard was the beautiful tickling of a piano. Silk curtains, striped in shades of sky blue and buttercream, framed the bright windows, and I paused in my reading to simply enjoy the space and the moment. It was too pretty to leave and do some holiday shopping at the mall, so I stayed there, alternately reading and snoozing in the sun, basking in the lazy Saturday like a cat. Andy came out and made a cup of green tea, setting it on the table in front of me beside a pile of books on art, and my own Tour Book.

In a world that seems to grow ever dimmer by the day, this is what I need to do. Light a candle, settle into the quiet, and turn out the rest of the chaos. It will be a winter of meditation, of stillness and silence in as many places as I can find and conjure them. It will be a time to shut off the television and radio and computer and cel phone. It will be a time to remember what we can control, what we can fix, what we can do, and what we cannot. Mostly, I hope it will be a time to heal.

We’ve all been battered a bit.

Every warrior falls down now and then. It is inevitable.

It’s ok to fall if you get back up and engage again.

It takes many battles to wage and win a war.

In-between there are moments of peace and clarity.

Brave women and men have fought and died for the freedom this country affords.

That freedom will always prevail.

Justice, truth, and equality will win out in the end.

That’s the essence of America.

 

Be vigilant.  Be strong.  Be yourself.

When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes, 

Behind the gate of the world, we walk in the realm of beauty.

Before the light of the fall is extinguished, we spark the torch of hope.

Through the land of peace, quiet and calm reign in harmonious partnership.

Beauty will forever be a balm for the soul.

Walk with me in silence.

Trees burn, fiery leaves against a blue sky.

A cold wind cuts the colorful carriage to the ground.

Still, beauty is eternal. The memory of it remains.

Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg.

You might not believe it, but these two go back for some time, and are genuinely friends – at least as friendly as celebrities can be with each other. But something about the pairing rings true and authentic, and with their current VH1 show ‘Martha & Snoop’s Potluck Dinner Party’, which puts them in a dual-kitchen, there’s an undeniable chemistry between them. (And some seriously whacky shit thanks to a parade of guest characters.) A slightly edgy sweetness is at work, one that reminds me of those unlikely friendships that the luckiest of us have known. They can’t be planned out on paper, they can’t be conjured with online match-ups – they’re the organic coupling of spirits that are by most accounts at odds with one another, but that work because humans sometimes find themselves in their perceived opposites.

My most enriching and enduring friendships have been with those who are least like me. Partly that’s because I can’t stand myself, and partly because it’s refreshing to be around people who can teach me what I don’t know, who see things differently, and who, for whatever reason, find something in me to be appreciated and enjoyed. There’s something to be said for the old adage of opposites attract, but there’s also something to be said for simply enjoying the company of certain people. It’s not something that can be explained, it can only be felt.