Our antsy anticipation for summer is in full-effect, as the week ahead looks to be dour and cold and rainy, and we just don’t have time for that. No matter, there’s nothing to be done about the weather, so let’s recap the previous week and look valiantly ahead as we do on Monday, rain or shine.
In its shaded and often-forgotten corner of our yard, this Weigela always manages a few blooms every year, to remind me that it’s there, and that I should take better care of it. I’ll pick up some extra manure and give it some love, as this year’s crop of blooms is a lovely addition to the explosion of florals happening for this moment in spring.
This particular bush was here when we moved in, way back in 2002, so it’s at least half my current age, and still coming back for more. I admire such tenacity and strength in a neglected spot, where we’ve largely left it to fend for itself, and it has consistently performed.
A couple of years ago I saw a fiery variegated variety with vivid hot pink blooms that was absolutely incendiary. If I see it again I’ll pick it up – we need more tenacity in the garden, especially when it’s this pretty.
This is just your basic shirtless Sunday post of gratuitousness for easy viewing pleasure and brainless drooling. We need that sort of escape, just in case our virgin posting of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale isn’t doing it for you. (And with the upcoming heaviness of the next installment, slated for the holiday weekend, it’s not really doing it for me.) So let’s indulge in this shirtless male celebrity post, as kicked off by Bad Bunny, who smoldered in this Calvin Klein underwear shoot, as well as his Dazzler of the Day feature.
Finally, as global ambassador for the Stuart Weitzman shoe empire, Mark Consuelos does some sales-work without technically wearing any clothing whatsoever. Witness him in other shirtless shots here.
The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale is a dense and volurious work (see all the links below, and consider that we’re only a little more than halfway through posting the entire thing). To make it a little more palatable and fun, it contained silly breaks for pop culture nods and winks, including this one.
Just take those old records off the shelf I’ll sit and listen to ’em by myself Today’s music ain’t got the same soul I like that old time rock ‘n’ roll Don’t try to take me to a disco You’ll never even get me out on the floor In ten minutes I’ll be late for the door I like that old time rock ‘n’ roll
Still like that old time rock ‘n’ roll That kind of music just soothes the soul I reminisce about the days of old With that old time rock ‘n’ roll (oh)
Won’t go to hear ’em play a tango I’d rather hear some blues or funky old soul There’s only one sure way to get me to go Start playing old time rock ‘n’ roll Call me a relic, call me what you will Say I’m old-fashioned, say I’m over the hill Today’s music ain’t got the same soul I like that old time rock ‘n’ roll
Still like that old time rock ‘n’ roll That kind of music just soothes the soul I reminisce about the days of old With that old time rock ‘n’ roll (oh)
Still like that old time rock ‘n’ roll That kind of music just soothes the soul I reminisce about the days of old With that old time rock ‘n’ roll (oh)
The photographs for this entry of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale were taken over two decades ago, and posting this project online for the first time is forcing an exercise in nostalgia – a space where I don’t often put myself. As I approach 50, this year feels like a good place to indulge in some looking back. This particular portion of the project coincides with a recent visit to the current production of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ at the Music Box Theatre. A vainglorious quote by Mr. Wilde leads off this section:
“It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But it is better to be good than to be ugly.” – Oscar Wilde
“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” – Oscar Wilde
At the helm of one of the most revolutionary works of theater I’ve seen in almost fifty years, Kip Williams is named Dazzler of the Day for the written and directorial brilliance of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray‘. The play is a technological wonder, requiring scientific precision and wizardry, and manages to bridge the wit and lasting relevance of Wilde’s words with a modern-day sensibility, resulting in a work of timeless genius. I was extremely excited to hear that Williams will next be working on a theatrical version of ‘Dracula’ with Cynthia Erivo. More dazzle is surely on the way… in the meantime, do visit his website here to fully explore his amazing body of work.
My very first dip into the pool this year was perfumed by a potent swath of lily-of-the-valley plants, whose fragrance drifted across the yard to the water’s edge, lending the moment a sweet enchantment. Do not be fooled by its delicate appearance – these are hardy and boisterous plants, who rhizomes will spread to the point of invasiveness in semi-hospitable soil. We have them on the edge of the lawn, and they are not staying there, so plant carefully and be ready to rein them in as necessary.
Though they be the bane of many a manicured lawn, my heart still reserves space for the unassuming violet, in flower now across bedeviled lawns throughout the Northeast. We had stretches of the whit and purple variety at our childhood home, and they always provided a lovely segue from the volatile spring weather to something softer and sweeter.
We’ve mostly eradicated them from our lawn, but a few pop up now and then, and I leave them be until they finish flowering. At that point I’ll pull them up, rhizomes and all, because there will still be more to come next year. Sweetness and resilience, prettiness and power – do not underestimate the little violet.
She is currently enthralling audiences in the most amazing theatrical performance I have ever seen in my almost-fifty years on this planet, so crowning Sarah Snook as Dazzler of the Day feels underwhelming at best. Alas, it’s all I have to give, and for her bravura efforts on stage in ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’, this is the least I can offer. Snook is perhaps best known for her work on ‘Succession’, and her extraordinary tour-de-force in ‘Dorian Gray’ under the revolutionary direction of Kip Williams is simply astounding. She’s only there until the end of June, so do whatever it takes to get yourself a ticket – it’s that amazing.
The blooms of the Hawthorne tree always remind me of our old home, where an enormous specimen grew right outside my bedroom window, raising its thorny branches and blooming in sweet, creamy style every spring. Mom remembered how much Dad was annoyed at the tree – those blooms soon dropped their petals to the ground – and the ground was the bulk of our driveway. Petals don’t sweep up as easily as one thinks. Afterward, the berries would fall, even messier than the blooms, to greet the fall and make a further muck of things. I didn’t mind – that tree was a signal of the shift of seasons, and I welcomed all of them. On this morning walk by Central Park, we spotted a Hawthorne in bloom, and springs from my childhood came lovingly back to mind.
‘The Picture of Dorian Gray‘ by Oscar Wilde is a novel that informed my youth, and devastated me every time I opened its worn and earmarked pages. Such an exquisite rendering of the gorgeous folly of humanity and vanity and art spoke directly to the person I was becoming, and Wilde’s words stayed with me, haunting the nights and peppering the days with wit and wonder. When I heard about Kip Williams and his take on the novel in a revolutionary play starring Sarah Snook, I proposed seeing if we could get same-day half-off tickets at from the TKTS booth at Lincoln Center. Mom was game as she had enjoyed the novel too, and after a bit of a line, we procured the perfect seats to viewing this life-altering show.
We were both amazed at what we saw on the stage of the Music Box Theatre – a once-in-a-lifetime performance that must be seen to be believed. Worlds within worlds within worlds – the way New York stacks itself inside of itself, closing and opening all at once, revealing and obscuring and ever-enthralling.
We chose a simple, convenient, and classic establishment for a quick dinner – Sardi’s – as it was almost time for our final show.
That seems a fitting point to start the closing of this lovely weekend, as evening descended over the unhushed city – and the magic of ‘Maybe Happy Ending’ began – is that a tragic ending? Not at all.
The moon floated over the Empire State Building, and you know what they say when you get caught between the moon and New York City…
Last year’s return to Broadway was a bittersweet one, as it marked the first time Mom and I would be spending our Mother’s Day weekend in New York since we lost Dad. This year was a little lighter, a little sweeter, and a whole lot brighter, as far as the spectacular roster of shows we would see.
We began in slightly misty fashion, and though that Friday threatened to be consumed by rain, we escaped most of it, as the heaviest part fell while we enjoyed dinner. In between, we managed a quick jaunt through Bryant Park and did a brief bit of shopping along Fifth Avenue.
A Greek dinner at Kellari proved a delight, and I jinxed us by mentioning that I hoped Audra McDonald would be at that night’s performance of ‘Gypsy’ for which we had front row tickets. We got in the longest line right before showtime, before overhearing someone state that this was the cancellation line. Jinx confirmed, Audra was out, and it was too late to come up with another plan, so we filed into our seats – the first time that I’ve been in the front row of any show and not had anyone on either side of us. In fact, the bulk of the front section was woefully empty.
No matter, the show must go on, and the rest of the company was enthralling, including understudy Tryphena Wade, who absolutely nailed the iconic role of Rose in a way that all too often gets overshadowed by whatever fabulous baggage a more well-known leading lady can often carry. A toast to the understudies then – they keep the theatrical fires burning.
May makes for magical and magnificent musical memories, and a little alliteration alights like a lilting airy lyric, married and melded to a melancholy melody.
May makes for moody musical moments – and a few follow:
