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December 2015

2015: Year in Review Part III

The final third of the year is when things get cozy and cold, the wondrous juxtaposition of a Northeastern fall and winter. This year Mother Nature was making up for her horrid opening, extending the warmth dizzyingly into the very start of snow season. The plants won’t be grateful to her for this, but the rest of us are simply embracing it.

September 2015 – September traditionally meant the return of school, and shame. Those days are done.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour continued on its merry way, with a suite of Sunset posts that began with a pool, sparing into motion with a splash, and came down a staircase as if to the manner born.

Norma Desmond returned, one final time, for this last tour. Everything’s as if we never said goodbye.

It’s still a sin to kill a mockingbird.

And still, summer lingered. Still time for a Speedo.

Forty and… fabulous. Of course, it helps when you turn forty in the Judy Garland suite, and you get to smell like this, and wear something as ridiculous as this.

Upon reaching the age of forty, you show some (s)ass.

Birthday bedroom memories.

Portland, Maine.

A spectacular Tour Stop in Seattle, WA began with something verdant, something delicious, something pretty, and something sublime. It was a highlight of the Tour thus far, and I got to fulfill a lifelong dream of seeing the orcas. There was some shopping as well, and a stop at Snowqualmie Falls. All in all, it was a grand bit of touring.

Everybody needs an ally now and then.

October 2015 – This was the year I went blue. True blue.

Madonna’s ‘Ghosttown’ – recently chosen by Rolling Stone as the best song of the year.

Let’s spark joy!

Let’s get eclectic. And again.

Being on tour means being in hotels. It’s where I feel at home. And it’s where I get naked more often than not. Whether you like it or not. And absolutely no regrets.

Fantasy island, one and two.

Speedo mayhem. Again.

Quite possibly the best meal of the year. Thank you Suzie!

Not quite ready to fall.

Hotel moments.

Season of soups.

Until next year, Ogunquit. For now, the fall. And it burns. Still, it’s better than winter.

November 2015 – With November, along with the earlier nights, comes the promise of the holiday light. The promise of family gatherings. The search for warmth. The reassurance of love.

Dressing the twins up.

A bloody moon.

The blue hair stuck around.

I promised the twins a treasure hunt come the fall, and it arrived with a treasure map and more.

I received my first Troy Gua masterpiece, and it’s a beauty.

November means Something to Remember.

The not-so-dreaded F-word.

The best confessions ever.

The Tour Book continued to be posted online, but at this point a strange evolution occurred – both planned and spontaneous. After years of confusion, the smoke was starting to clear. The line between my real life and my artistic output was at last evident to me. Shh, don’t tell anyone just yet.

My wings are red, and they carry me above all.

I’m not a huge Adele fan, but I definitely dig this song.

I am well on my way to becoming a bear.

My virgin voyage.

The holidays approached, and a cartoonish existential question is resolved.

December 2015 – The shortest days of the year, and the time when holiday spirits burn brightly to counteract all the darkness. Also a time for getting together with family, no matter how difficult that may be.

I started off with the holiday spirit high and strong, decorating the Boston condo for the first time in well over a decade.

One reason why I get naked here (and the photos to prove it).

This was Outrageous!

Animal instinct.

The most controversial section of the Tour Book was posted with ‘Animal Demons’ Part I, but it was nothing compared with Part II. Not to mention the sex-pig posturing of Part III.

The Holiday Card 2015.

A murder in the park.

The ‘Animal Demons’ section of The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book was only three-fifths of the way done. Part IV found my protagonist wielding an axe, and exorcizing long-held bunny demons in extremely disturbing fashion in Part V. Even the aftermath was too hot for Instagram, FaceBook and Twitter.

Returning to seasonal fare, Kira and I embarked on a three-part Holiday Stroll in Boston. Part I, Part II, and Part III. There was also a new tradition: the Holiday Children’s Hour.

Merry Freaking Christmas, everyone.

The last Madonna Timeline of the year.

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2015: Year in Review Part II

Perhaps my favorite portion of the year, this is when spring meets summer, and the days- when they are sunny and warm – are meant to be shared by the pool, on the beach, or in the chill of well-regulated air conditioning. Friends and family abound too, which makes it that much warmer.

May 2015 – A glorious month for so many reasons… I don’t even know where to begin.

A month for marathon kisses.

They’re still trying to ban my ass on FaceBook. (And failing!)

Frightening night.

I learned a lot from Winnie-the-Pooh.

I left a job with people I loved, and got a lovely send off. (Apparently they wanted me to smell this good, and I couldn’t love them more for it.)

Read it.

Keeping things tricky.

I got a lap dance by Hedda Lettuce.

My rose failure.

The fact remains: Josh Duggar is a child molester.

Pearls of wisdom.

June 2015 – The month that summer arrives in burst of sunny, bunny glory. All hail the season of the sun!

Night beauty in Boston.

Day beauty, too.

Ben Cohen beauty.

Hidden beauty.

Boston baseball.

Red Sox game with Skip. The whole length of it. And we almost made it back without incident – until the police showed up.

The twins graduated. From pre-school. It was epic. (And check out that bad-ass Noah taking charge of his ark!)

XXX(L).

Take A Bow.

The scent of beauty.

Suzie tried to prepare me for turning 40, by going first.

Lunch by Cher.

Emi likes my closet.

The growth of a season, blooming in sweet and spicy form.

Everything smells better in summer.

Marriage Equality for all the land.

Taming a monster.

July 2015 – Summer is a time for friends near and far, for those just visiting, and for those who linger a little longer.

It’s a time for heat, in all its forms.

It’s a time for stupidity.

It’s a time for wonderful words.

It’s even a time for a naked Justin Bieber. (Eww, and sorry.)

big reveal. (Following a minor tease.)

Fit for a Queen.

I still want to smell like a London gentleman.

Summer survival.

Cars for Andy.

Inspiration by Vreeland.

Cheating destiny.

The boy was mine.

August 2015 – The month is which I was born, made extra special this year for a number of reasons. Starting off with the beginning of my very last tour… The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star.

It started with a bunny, had a proper Madonna preamble, and opened with an entrance. I learned from the best.

Beans! Beans! The special beans!

Wanting more summer tomorrows.

Planning for the day I turned 40.

Exorcizing bunny demons, finding ways of escape, and making new destinations.

Meet my new publicist!

Teaching my brother how not to be such a dick.

Tour Stop: Cape Cod.

Friends old and new.

Midnight radio.

Try some, eat one.

One of the best songs Madonna has ever written.

Just in time for my 40th birthday.

In my birthday suit.

When Iris eyes are smiling.

A rose in a cocktail.

Jockstrap vogue.

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2015: Year in Review Part I

I’ve come to loathe ‘Year in Review’ posts, but some people absolutely love them, so I’m going to make a compromise. I will recap the year in the next three posts, but it’s going to be truncated, and the posts chosen to be highlighted will only be those that ‘spark joy’ for me. Deal? Good. (Like you had a choice.)

January 2015 – The year got off to a rather dismal start, with a winter snowfall that just kept coming. So much snow fell that I was unable to get to Boston for the first two months of the year. Luckily, there were other distractions and diversions, like men. And more men.

This book was scentsational. This fragrance was too.

I try to paint with words, even if I don’t always succeed.

The scent of snow, fitting for a year when there was an overabundance. And ice castles.

I didn’t know it then but this would be my last visit to Boston for a long stretch, thanks to all that snow.

To warm the stomach, this Tom Yum recipe.

This offer still stands. Be brave…

Get tricky. Very tricky. Super tricky. Ultra tricky.

An unhappy anniversary.

February 2015 – The snow continued, so we kept ourselves occupied with creative endeavors. One guy who does that better than anyone else I know is my pal Skip, who contributed the virgin ‘Special Guest Blog’ to the proceedings here.

A couple of favorite things: jockstraps and Madonna. And this Special Guest Blog by my friend Carl.

Speaking of Madonna, she came back with a roar, rose to the rafters, fell to the floor and got right back up.

Grey Vetiver by Tom Ford – the only guy who could get me into vetiver.

Male nudity.

Cheesy V-Day mix Side One.

Cheesy V-Day mix Side Two.

Suzie’s Special Guest Blog: Zords Combine!

The gorgeousness that is Winter Water.

A Madonna Timeline that told a secret I already revealed.

March 2015 – The snow still kept coming, and at this point people started to get a little crazy. When at least I was able to come back to Boston, I was one of them. Kira joined in the fun too. Hence the photos here, which are ridiculous but always make me giggle.

Another wonderful friend who makes my heart happy is Ann, who wrote this touching Special Guest Blog.

Andy Cohen kept things juicy and entertaining with these delicious Diaries.

Madonna released one of her best albums in years – ‘Rebel Heart’ – and it was as spectacular as expected.

My friend Joe wrote this Special Guest Blog which managed to be both academic and artfully scintillating.

The art of the jockstrap.

Family pain.

A return to Boston, at long last!

Josie/JoJo/JoAnn kept my heart warm with this endearing Special Guest Blog.

I finally forgave Taylor Swift for existing.

April 2015 – The snow finally started to go away, and with it any remaining vestiges of our sanity. April was a time for silly celebration, and the too-long-awaited return of spring – something that we started to doubt would ever come back.

The bunny bedlam was barely beginning.

Memories of my grandmother.

How is it possible that I still don’t have these amazing shoes? WTF?

Sometimes Madonna is simply gorgeous – in sound and sight and spirit.

A new favorite cocktail: the Campari Orange.

Speaking of oranges, a new favorite recipe. (Doing the dita.)

Subway self-examination.

When the night is cold

My naked ass in the floating world.

Epic fragrance battle.

Zac Efron almost naked.

Girl crush.

Coming Next: Parts Two and Three of this ridiculousness. 

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The Gorgeousness of New York Oud

One of my favorite Christmas gifts (given by both Andy and my parents) is my very first bottle of Bond No. 9 – ‘New York Oud’. Up until this year, I’d kept an agreeable distance from the fragrance behemoth, put off by the price tag as well as the garish bottle design. Yet as with certain parts of life, the very things we resist are those that become the most valuable to us later on. Perhaps it just took some time for me to appreciate the Bond house. A little fruity concoction like this aided in that as well.

I was browsing The Tannery in Cambridge last month – well, not so much browsing as waiting for Kira to work through her shoe complex – when I stumbled upon a few random bottles of Bond No. 9. Normally, I would veer away from those star-shaped vessels and questionably-emblazoned flasks of fragrance. To be honest, the sheer number and variety of their offerings had always been overwhelming.

However, I was on the lookout for a holiday fragrance, something that sparkled, something that had a little more of an edge, something that I wouldn’t wear every day of the year, but only for special occasions. Based on the price point alone, that would signify a Bond fragrance, the cost of which heads into the stratosphere of Tom Ford Private Blends.

I sniffed a few of the bottles at hand, dismissing them all until I found the New York Oud. A sucker for most things oud, I inhaled this take on the expensive olfactory elixir, and marveled instantly at how much I loved it, and how different it was, even from its close relative ‘Oud Fleur’. The latter was smokier and muskier than ‘New York Oud’ – even as both retained a sweet, rose-hued opening. Bond’s version was brighter and fruitier – just the sort of sparkle and pizzazz I was trying to capture for the holidays. I sprayed it on and fell a little more in love. If only I hadn’t done that, I might have escaped, listening to Kira’s admonishments (even as she looked longingly at a pair of $400 boots).

Instead, I was caught by the beauty around my wrists, enraptured and enchanted by the exquisite scent. It was boisterous and cheeky, yet elegant and jauntily refined. It didn’t read New York so much as a universal sophistication, which was much more appealing to me. As we walked through the sun-soaked afternoon, I felt a little more alive when surrounded by such gorgeousness.

I knew then that it was my next holiday fragrance.

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The Naked Zac Efron Pics

They’ve already been plastered all over the internet, but this blog would be remiss if it didn’t include, for posterity, these naked glimpses of Zac Efron.

This isn’t the first time Mr. Efron has flirted with nudity, but it may be the most graphic. I won’t see whatever movie it’s from, but clips will leak soon enough. In the meantime, a look back at some of Zac’s shirtless and pants-less posts from this place.

It began with his very first Hunk of the Day crowning (which was actually rather late in the Efron game).

There was this quick look at him in his wet tighty-whiteys.

A simple shirtless post with some shirtless GIFs.

The very first naked Zac Efron post, legit.

In this post, he stuck his hand down his pants and the world went ‘ahh.’

Even more shirtless Zac Efron GIFs.

When riding a steed, he doffed his shirt too.

And here he is grabbing another guy’s junk, for real.

Yup, some more shirtless Zac pics.

More photos from the promo shots used for what’s below.

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Winter Wonderland, Minus the Winter

When the weather outside has yet to be frightful (and this is in no way a complaint, just a slight bit of consternation for the plants that may not recover when the real winter weather hits) one looks to false ice deities to signify the arrival of the frigid season. The Tiffany windows will have to suffice while we wait in a state of suspended disbelief. I can’t remember when it was this warm this late in the year.

Usually we get a thaw around mid-January – a brief break in the spell of freezing weather that sees fog rolling off the snow banks and gathering in strange pools of light beneath the street lamps at night. Such a thaw often messes with the mind, giving a tantalizing tease of spring, otherwise so far away.

This year there is nothing yet to thaw. I don’t know if that eases the mind, or leaves it more restless. The idea of what’s to come can be more gruesome than what is already at hand.

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The Last Recap of the Year

When next we recapitulate events, it will be in 2016, so technically this is the last recap of the year. There will be no recap-of-recaps – that’s what the Year in Review posts are for (and they begin on December 30, so get ready.) On with the end…

It began fittingly with a Holiday Children’s Hour (well, three-hours) gathering in Boston, which turned out to be one of the unexpected highlights in a season of disappointment.

Holiday decorating at its most opulent.

Cute Oxford boys tackle a holiday chestnut.

Annie Lennox celebrated a birthday, and the holiday.

I love a man who comes at midnight.

Merry Merry, quite contrary.

It’s hard to find Holiday-themed Hunks, but these gentlemen took off everything but their Santa’s hats and helped: Trystan Bull and Gavin Henson.

After the Big Man in the questionable red fur ensemble departs, a welcome lull in the action.

As we turn the corner onto another year, it’s the pocket of time when Norma Desmond made her confession to Joe Gillis.

The Madonna Timeline returned before the year ran out, and it was the polarizing ‘Bitch I’m Madonna.’

A couple more Hunks that had nothing to do with Christmas: Alex Barber and José Loreto.

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The Madonna Timeline: Song #117 ~ ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ – Now, 2015

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

YOU’RE GONNA LOVE THIS

YOU CAN’T TOUCH THIS

CAUSE I’M A BAD BITCH!

Here is the colorful set of stairs she playfully climbed.

Here is the red water fountain from which she sipped.

Here is the bar where she dumped a drink down a cute male model’s throat.

This is the Standard High Line, where Madonna filmed her latest video – ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ – the last single from the amazing ‘Rebel Heart’ album. For some of us die-hard Madonna fans, every place she inhabited – no matter how fleetingly – is sacrosanct ground. We worship such locations as though they were little shrines to Our Lady of Perpetual Reincarnation. (The only reason we ever went to the Gaiety was to be in an actual place that Madonna had also been in. I swear.)

When I found myself ensconced at the Standard, I made a point of seeking out some of the spots where she filmed the video, and I felt the same thrill as I did when passing into that seedy theater where some of ‘Sex’ was shot. Decades later, I am riding up in the elevator to the top of the hotel. Psychedelic and surreal videos play on the walls, while foreboding orchestral music taunts from the blackness above.

Here she may have risen, I think with a giddy burst of excitement.

The floors of the Standard, accessible only by those with a proper key card, silently and invisibly zoom past. Pop scenes continue to unfurl on the video screen – Julie Andrews in ‘The Sound of Music’ juxtaposed with an abundance of bare-breasted ladies – as I reach the upper floors. The doors open to a brilliant white hallway. Everything is brighter this high in the sky.

WE HIT THE ELEVATOR RIGHT UP TO THE ROOFTOP

THE BASS IS PUMPING, MAKES ME WANNA SCREW THE TOP OFF

YEAH WE’LL BE DRINKING AND NOBODY’S GONNA STOP US

AND WE’LL BE KISSING ANYBODY THAT’S AROUND US.

Like the greatest Madonna songs, ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ is, more than anything else, inspirational. It makes me feel like I can do anything. Act like a forty-year-old fool. Be brave. Take all my clothes off in front of an entire city. It’s the same feeling Madonna inspired when I was a frightened little boy, dancing in a neighbor’s basement and forcing myself to be seen and heard, the same feeling I had when I traveled to Russia at the height of summer, and the same feeling I had when I drove through an early spring night blasting her ‘MDNA’ album. It’s something that no other artist has yet to inspire in me, this sense of courage to be completely myself in the face of a world that wants us only to conform. Madonna does that for me, and no matter what anyone else might say or think of the woman, it’s something that has literally saved my life. Best of all, it’s something that can never be taken away.

I JUST WANNA HAVE FUN TONIGHT!

PULL ME UNDER THE FLASHING LIGHT!

LET ME BLOW UP THIS HOUSE TONIGHT!

I walk around the hallway where some of the video was shot. Bending over to take a sip of water from the red fountain, I pause while my friend Chris takes a picture. Outside the gym area, a circular window looks out onto water. In the center of it, far in the distance, stands the Statue of Liberty – the same one that made a cameo in Madonna’s’Papa Don’t Preach’ video. At this point in her career, it is almost impossible to avoid self-references, and there’s a certain sadness in that. A sorrow in the way that it must feel constricting. Memories can be chains that bind, and the past can be a lugubrious albatross that lurks behind every turn, showing up just when you think you’d gone far enough beyond what you wanted to escape. I look out the window and wonder if Madonna looked out the same one, longing for something.

WE GO HARD OR WE GO HOME

WE GON’ DO THIS ALL NIGHT LONG

WE GET FREAKY IF YOU WANT

NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH…

WE GO HARD OR WE GO HOME

WE GON’ DO THIS ALL NIGHT LONG

WE GET FREAKY IF YOU WANT

BITCH I’M MADONNA.

Brazen, blistering and bodacious, ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ manages to be classic and new Madonna at once. The sound is of the moment; the attitude is one she’s had from the beginning. A rallying anthem for fun and good times (much like ‘Turn Up the Radio’) it’s a desperate plea for throwing caution to the wind, and for proving that we can still go hard all night long and meet the break of dawn. In the city of New York, it’s the perfect music of the night.

WE’RE JUMPING IN THE POOL AND SWIMMING WITH OUR CLOTHES ON

I POURED A BEER INTO MY SHOE AND GOT MY FREAK ON

THE NEIGHBOR’S PISSED AND SAYS HE’S GONNA CALL THE FIVE-O

IF THEY SHOW UP THEN WE ARE GONNA GIVE A GOOD SHOW

I JUST WANNA GO OUT TONIGHT!

PULL ME UNDER THE FLASHING LIGHT!

LET ME BLOW UP THIS HOUSE TONIGHT!

Many of us have had such nights in the city, when the phone is telling you it’s 4 AM and you don’t believe it, so you end up crawling to some diner because you still don’t want it to end. It’s that romantic possibility of a few more minutes of the moment, when anything still might happen, or when you know it won’t but you like the company and feeling so much you can’t face closing your eyes to it. A night that’s so good that the arrival of morning is not met with relief or rejoicing, but almost sadness.

WE GO HARD OR WE GO HOME

WE GONNA DO THIS ALL NIGHT LONG

WE GET FREAKY IF YOU WANT

NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH…

BITCH I’M MADONNA.

Whenever I feel down or apprehensive about something, when the world is waiting to strike through the heart with its cold indifference, I put on a song like this. It builds me up from within, giving me an internal armor that lets me be the man everyone thinks I am – the guy who doesn’t care, who can charge through life confident and collected, put-together and perfectly secure in who he is.

It doesn’t matter that it’s not exactly true. Confidence can be built from the ground up. On the roof-deck of the Standard, looking out over what might as well be the whole world, I feel invincible – and for that one moment, I am.

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

YOU CAN’T MESS WITH THIS LUCKY STAR.

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

SONG #117: ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ ~ Now, 2015

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The Sun Sets on the End of the Year

She called to me the other day, from a dusty pile of CDs. ‘New Year’s Eve Sunset Music’ had been hastily scribbled on one of them, and I gave a small smile at memories of the Minskoff Theatre. This is the time of the year when I first met Norma Desmond. It was 1995, and I was at Tower Records, perusing the Broadway musicals section, as any good gay boy does, when the silver-hued Andrew Lloyd Webber double-CD with Glenn Close on the cover came before my eyes. I don’t know what propelled me to purchase it, but I recklessly did. A double-CD? For a musical I’d never heard? Based on a movie I’d never seen? I bought it on a hunch, but didn’t listen to it for a few days.

The first song that caught my ear remains my favorite of the piece: The Perfect Year. In that brief jewel of a moment, all of Norma’s hopes and dreams rest on the love of another, and at the end, when it’s apparent that her love is not returned, it’s a devastation most of us have felt at one time or another. For me, it was a devastation that had not quite come to pass, only in that there was nothing concrete to destroy. Still, I felt a kinship to her predicament.

I also fell under the spell of her glamourous trappings, her outsize and at-odds-with-reality distorted view of herself. I knew what it was like to fall victim to your own ego, particularly when it was developed as a protection device, a way of making one’s mark on a world that really didn’t care. Sometimes that belief carried you through and brought you to a better place. Sometimes it had the opposite effect. Either way, it could prove dangerous and volatile. When Joe Gillis and his broken-down car rolled into Norma’s driveway, he tripped the silken chord of her faded web and was soon wrapped up in the luxurious temptations she had to offer, and possibly a few of the charms she had left. Nothing is ever so black-and-white; we reside in a world of grays, of noirish shadows and hesitant hope. There was something between them, and even if it was a case of one using the other, that doesn’t diminish the fact that two people came together, for whatever reason, and had an impact on each other.

As for ‘Sunset Boulevard’ – it was the musical, and ‘The Perfect Year’ that first captured my heart, even though most will admit the original film is far greater in terms of artistry and lasting merit. I came around to seeing it in that winter of 1995, drawn into Gloria Swanson’s eccentric performance as Norma Desmond – the original faded actress playing a part eerily similar to her own life, even if she was nothing like Norma, particularly in her later years, when she remained a vital and exuberant artist. William Holden played Joe Gillis – the stoic straight man who kept the whole thing grounded in a sinister shade of cynicism. Who was using whom? All these years later, it’s still difficult to ascertain for sure, and that’s one of the gorgeous complexities of the film.

All I know is that Norma Desmond played a pivotal part in my coming of age. She wasn’t the greatest role model for a young man to have, she wasn’t an ideal heroine for anyone to aspire to be, but she gave me a delusional grandiosity that somehow saw me through a few dark times. It almost wrecked me too, to be truthful, but we both survived. In the end, when the world does its damnedest to destroy us, simply surviving can be a feat of epic grandeur.

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Christmas Quiet

After all the bombast and the lead-up, we land in the quiet post-mortem lull of the holiday. There’s the bump of New Year’s just ahead, but for most intents and purposes this is it: the end of the show. As a kid, it was only the beginning – the full-week of vacation in which to try out all the new toys. As an adult, it’s usually back to work unless it fortuitously falls on a weekend, as it does this year (with a full moon no less – the likes of which haven’t happened since 1977 and won’t again for another 19 years).

This year, I will keep things quiet and peaceful – or at least do my best so as not to tempt that full-moon madness. It’s a reflection of what I’ve learned after 40 Christmas seasons. I know the glow and the magic of the holiday that will matter as opposed to the fleeting thrills and scurrilous rivalries that rear their ugly heads whenever families get together. I also know that this warm and cozy good-will-toward-men attitude is ephemeral at best, and by the time the snowstorms return to the northeast, we’ll all be swearing at each other and cursing our lots as if Santa and Baby Jesus and all those Christmas angels were mere figments of imagination. In other words, we go back to being real.

Before that, though, I want to linger a bit here, in the quiet and the serenity, in the silence after the song. I want to pause beneath the Christmas tree, taking in its forest-like essence, reconnecting to a simpler time, a more meaningful moment. I want… after all the gifts and the cologne that will last throughout the years, I still want… and it’s a want that goes unfulfilled and always will, because there is no magical material possession that will ever fill its emptiness.

It’s a want that Christmas promises to deliver every year, but never does.

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Merry Christmas! (With Links for the Lonely)

Last Christmas sucked for me, so I’m heading into this day with zero expectations of holiday merriment. I find the years in which I expect nothing end up being filled with happy surprises, or at least the absence of disappointment and sadness, which at this point would be more than fine. For those who find themselves alone, or surrounded by people who don’t understand or care to get you, here is a link of holiday links that run the gamut from fun and frothy to doleful and serious, with some sexy Santas thrown in for good measure. After an early Christmas lunch with the twins (the rushed schedule one of the joys of a post-divorce family) Andy and I will come back home and have some idle time on our hands. I will likely jump into cleaning mode (the New Year always makes me antsy as to getting things cleaned up) but I may find myself looking for something to read. If you’re in the same boat, allow me to offer the following links to keep you in (and sometimes out of) the holiday spirit.

One of the very first ‘holiday’ posts I ever did here was this memory of my favorite Christmas decoration – a miniature mouse house. Efforts are underway to create an updated version, but my brother is involved so it won’t happen until next year at the earliest.

Her Mr. DJ, put a Christmas record on!

I hear those sleigh bells jingling

Holiday Card 2011.

The ox and lamb kept time.

Christmas with my brother, because that’s what it’s all about.

Ghosts of holidays past.

Deco World.

Through the holiday portal.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

This was part of the second Holiday Stroll with Kira, I believe, which, according to my best calculations, began in 2011.

Believe in your dreams come what may.

Santa porn.

Even if Christmas is about the children.

I prefer white lights for Christmas trees, but since Andy is charge of the thing he gets his choice. Usually, except in the case of this particular Christmas, when I put them on myself and made perhaps the prettiest tree we’ve ever had.

“I really am a mean and despicable creature at heart. It’s so difficult to really change.

When Andy was Santa, and I sat on his lap.

Some traditions last only a few years.

Some posts are timeless.

Some holidays bring tears to the eyes.

Christmas is all about the sparkle.

The Holiday Stroll 2013 – Part One and Part Two.

Sexy Santa.

Solitary Wintersong.

Holiday Card 2013.

A Madonna holiday.

A year without a Christmas… tree.

A Christmas bear.

A Christmas waltz.

Holiday Card 2014.

The Holiday Stroll 2014.

Fall on your knees.

When family doesn’t comfort you on Christmas… you find new ways to dream.

A Christmas song not forgotten.

All this time I’ve been… Snoopy?

Holiday Renaissance in Boston.

Holiday Parties of the Past.

Holiday Card 2015.

The Holiday Stroll 2015 – Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.

And this year’s newest event: the Boston Holiday Children’s Hour. Because sometimes you have to make your own families, which doesn’t diminish the holiday love in the least.

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The Santa Hour

This evening, even more-so than the night before my birthday, was always my favorite night of the year. As someone who savors anticipation more than the actual event itself, there is no greater anticipatory night than the night before Christmas. Far more than mere anticipation however was the added power of enchantment, the notion that there just might be some real magic left in the world, even if it had been banished to the far reaches of the North Pole. As children, and perhaps even as adults, we want so badly to believe in something, no matter how far-fetched it may seem. Here’s to those of us still hoping to believe.

A Visit from St. Nicholas

BY CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too…
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight…
‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!’

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Sexy Shirtless Santa Stuff

Miss Mary’s claimed virgin-status notwithstanding, Christmas is a time for sexiness as well, and I know one or two guys (and gals) with a sexy Santa fetish. I am decidedly not one of them, but this blog is not solely for me, at least not all the time. With that in mind, please peruse the following links of sexy holiday hijinks, and a fun video of Hunk of the Day Simon Dunn dancing around to Miss Mariah’s Christmas chestnut.

First up is Austin Drage, who wears his Santa’s hat as if to the manner born.

Next we have Stuart Pilkington, who favors guy liner with his red fur.

Third is Dan Osborne, who rocks the red with this package.

Most recently rocking the Santa cap is Trystan Bull.

And last but not least is Darren Criss as a shirtless Santa who can sing.

Now watch Simon Dunn dance around in his undies below:

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Glad Tidings of Comfort & Joy

A strange, but ultimately enchanting, video from Annie Lennox, taken off her holiday record ‘A Christmas Cornucopia’ (throw me a little alliteration and call me Alan Ilagan), this is ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.’ I will say this about Ms. Lennox: she knows how to work a Christmas outfit, that’s for Goddamn sure. More than a few pangs of envy shot through my holiday heart for that top-hatted taffeta-looking ensemble. But really, how many winter forests will I be trudging through this year? Two at the most, and I’ve already got my Tibetan yak wrap for that. March on into your winter village, Annie.

(Annie, are you ok? Are you ok, Annie?)

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Check Out Their Christmas Packages

Cute British blokes? Check.

Classic Carey Christmas song? Check.

Questionable but endearing dance moves? Check.

This is Oxford accapella singing group ‘Out of the Blue’ performing a modern-day Christmas classic, giving it a giddy male-buddy camaraderie that renders the proceedings innocent and sexy at the same time. I posted it as an addendum to this original post, but it deserves a repeat airing today.

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