Category Archives: General

It doesn’t bode well that it feels like we’ve been having winter for several weeks already. That today is the actually starting day is quite upsetting. At times like this, I find it’s best to put your faith in God. Jesus take the wheel. Let go and Let God. The price is right. Blessed Be. Don’t go for second best, baby. Jesus is the reason for the season. Too blessed to be stressed. YOLO.

(See what the holidays are doing to me?)

As for the first day of winter, I’ll be in Boston for it, writing out my wishes and burning them from the bathroom window.

December of 2006 was when I released ‘The Revelation’ at a big 80’s theme party. Revisiting that story has become a holiday tradition here, so carve out an extra-long section of the day if you want to be dazzled, amazed, or simply go back to sleep. It was, please keep in mind, entirely a work of fiction – and while I always post that disclaimer, this time I really mean it. (I never had sex with a priest!)

The Revelation ~ Part I

The Revelation ~ Part II

The Revelation ~ Part III

It stands on its own, with no need for my Madonna commentary.

Buried in a foot of white stuff, I’ve had my fill of winter and it hasn’t even technically arrived yet. That does not bode well. I’ve also had my fill of being without  kitchen, and that’s only just begun. We have at least five or six more weeks of it, and that’s a groundhog message that needs to be retracted before I beat it to death. For today, though, let’s look back at a week that brought about Dallas recollections, disparate music selections, and only a few hunks to heat up the night.

My adventures in Dallas were chronicled in posts that described (or showed) this amazing hotel room view, a cold visit to Neiman Marcus, a not-so-narrow escape from a fire, one rather disturbing museum, a freak ice storm, and an extra day. A few more Dallas posts are on the way, so stay tuned…

The wildly varied musical taste that makes any mix from me such a schizophrenic treat was on display in this gorgeous song by Norah Jones, this holiday chestnut by Mariah Carey, and a wondrous seasonal offering by Sarah McLachlan.

Shirtless males were in short supply this week, and viewers had to make do with the scantily-clad offerings of Masiano Di Vaio and one lone shirtless Santa.

The penultimate entry for my ’13’ project went up here. (Yes, that means there’s one more… I couldn’t very well call a project ’13’ and then stop at 12, could I?)

A quick bit of lead-up hype to the release of this year’s holiday card began here, and continued with this fun retrospective of almost every racy thing that came before.

And then it was time.

Finally, forget sugar plums and Turkish delight, I want chocolate.

Perhaps you recall last year’s Holiday Card, and the bloody, disturbing visage of a cut-out heart seen below – or maybe you remember the drunken, chain-smoking Santa of several years ago – or the icy snow queen with white hair and blue glitter. Whatever your recollection of my holiday cards might be, I’m not sure it can prepare you for this year’s version. Up until now, the most shocking photo card may have been 2011’s shared billing with my niece and nephew, whereby I was pulling them in a wagon over a grassy lawn. That took most of my friends by shock and several family members as well. Last year’s was one of my personal faves, in the incongruous blood-bath that accompanied Santa season – but it was also one of my most reviled (which only served to make me like it more). Eat your heart out, indeed.

This year is something I’ve never done before, and since it’s being sent out this week, here are a few hints as to what is to come:

-       It was shot at my childhood home in Amsterdam, NY.

-       I am in the card, AND fully clothed.

-       Someone else took the photo.

-       There is an unlikely co-star, but it is neither a baby nor an animal.

-       My favorite Christmas ornament is featured.

-       It’s Zap Zap Zapping good!

My adventures in Dallas will be touched upon in a later post. I’m writing this on a plane I barely boarded on time (after running – nay, sprinting – through the Atlanta airport, which is no tiny airport). After my asthma attack I settled in for a ride home I never thought I’d make. So I’m going to quickly recap the previous light week of posts, and then delve into how I survived a Dallas ice storm and the temptations of the original Neiman Marcus store.

First up was the tremendous news (at least for these parts) that Tom Daley was dating a man. I say good for him. God knows I’ve done my share of dating men – why should he be denied?

Next was my annual Holiday Stroll with Kira, Part 1 and Part 2. Tis the season.

The Hunks for holiday season were Josh Hutcherson, Jesse Metcalfe, Adam Levine, Joel Edgerton, Stuart Reardon, and these sexy Santas.

Speaking of holidays, check out the storefront of Tiffany’s at Copley Place.

Finally, even more naked male celebrities.

Approaching the shortest day of the year, it sometimes feels like the darkness is all-encompassing. Even at the height of noon, the sun often has trouble penetrating the cloud cover. At those times, the lights of Christmas are the saving grace of the season. At night, they lend a magic to the land, twinkling with charm as they wink at passers-by.

As a kid, one of my favorite things to do was ride around looking at all the holiday lights. I memorized many of them – the wreath at the bottom of Northhampton with the big traditional Christmas bulbs in it, unchanging from year to year. The impressive stand of twinkling stars at a local Congressman’s house. The simple homestead, cloaked all in red spotlights, glowing at the top of Coolidge Road. These were my memory markers, the totems of Christmas as it crept in through the darkest of nights. They were beacons of color, mileposts of wonder, respites of warmth no matter how cold the world grew.

Our own lights changed from year to year, depending on what inspired me, or what I felt like putting up. Somehow, as it always ended up doing, charge of decorating fell to me. At first I insisted upon it, then it became expected. With Andy, it was always up to me. This year, I’m taking a break from it all. It’s time for someone else to light the way.

On Friday nights when my brother and I were growing up, we got to stay up an hour or two later since there was no school the next day. We’d watch ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’, ‘Webster’ and ‘Mr. Belvedere’ along with, oddly enough, ‘Dallas’. The latter had the best opening theme song – all brassy trumpets and driving bass – and I’d concoct choreographed dance routines in front of the television set. My parents and brother occasionally lifted their gaze to watch.

I’m sure they didn’t know what to make of me.

No one ever knew what to make of me.

It’s always been a fantasy of mine to disappear for a while.

To go somewhere unknown and unexpected.

To leave everything and everyone behind.

To find a place of perpetual spring.

To get away from all the demons – because sometimes the demons are not in my head.

To start completely over.

And like most fantasies, there’s an element of fear in it.

And then there’s the moment of reality.

And then I make it happen.

Every time.