There is sometimes a celebratory aspect to the year in review posts that come as we complete a calendar year, but this time there’s not all that much to celebrate. Making it through another year is certainly a feat unto itself, so perhaps we take our celebration in that, and the fact that it’s come to a brutal end. Rather than break this up into two posts, I’m puking it all up here, with the main highlights, because the less said about this year, the better. Here’s to a happier 2024…
January 2023:
The year began with a hint at the 20th anniversary celebrations that ALANILAGAN.com would be marking. Yes, this completes the second decade of this website, which is nothing short of miraculous. A lot has changed since then. The eyes of a superstar still hit like heat.
Kiss my bitter peach/naked ass.
Vamping for Plan B with the Ilagan twins.
The lashes of Jaxon Layne.
I am AI – always have been, always will be.
A Madonna Celebration is announced…
Tea & sustenance.
Feeling all the years.
Spilling the tea since 2003, we began commemorating the 20th anniversary of this site.
Look what they made me do (after escorting me out of the Amsterdam Mall)!
That lavender haze.
Putting the kettle on for a cup of hot tea.
Finding mindfulness in a dish rag.
Making love out of nothing at all. (Along with the acoustic version for a reprise.)
Jaxon and Lolo.
Coaxing a mystery orchid back into bloom.
A silver anniversary for Madonna’s best album (to date).
Preparing for a two-decade salute.
The cutest Godchild ever.
Boston love has been rampant on this blog.
March 2023:
20 begins officially.
Naked titillation.
Diary of a half-life.
Fancy cup of tea.
Should I bend over?
Season of the prayer.
Still hanging out in my underwear for all the word to see.
I wanted his sex.
Touch me now.
Tomorrow…
The twins turned into teenagers. In honor of that, a letter to Noah and a letter to Emi.
April 2023:
My shameful egg ignorance.
Family fun spanning the generations.
Death by a thousand cuts.
A double-decade of revelations, and an ass shot.
The madness of making an oboe reed.
Pink or green: which witch are you?
Forget surreal, social media sucks.
A naked bubble tea journey – LIVE!
Total eclipse of the heart.
The second man I ever kissed.
May 2023:
Loves of my life.
Our 13th wedding anniversary.
It’s never too soon to plan for retirement. No, seriously, I mean it.
Shirtless jogging scene.
A letter to my Godson.
Pampering peonies.
We started summer a little early in a vain attempt to stave off the sadness that was lying in wait. It almost worked.
An unforgettable christening, the only kind that would be fitting for a Godson of mine.
Taylor Swift gave us the summer anthem.
Ogunquit nostalgia.
Returning to Ogunquit provided a welcome respite, rain and all.
The unwinding.
The vulgar jockstrap post before taking off all my clothes.
The shy exhibitionist, part one. // The shy exhibitionist, part two.
A post for my Dad, even if he couldn’t read it.
Alive on the verge of summer, which suddenly started with skinny dipping.
Old-school summer playlist.
Taking the rain.
Top-twenty Madonna timelines.
July 2023:
Tomorrow, again. And then a more popular song. And then a celebration postponed.
Words and notes in an effort to touch the hand of God.
A letter to my Godson on his first birthday.
Our real anniversary.
Meeting old friends in the city that never sleeps made for one final flourish of fun before the summer took its dark turn.
August 2023:
In memory of my Dad.
August was spent less in a haze and more in a keen awareness of what I was feeling, from grieving to driving to breathing to walking – all in a hushed and still stance.
The days moved, the summer inched ahead, and throughout it all there was fluttering, visiting, and promising.
Unable to avoid the crowd of a funeral, I finally caught COVID for the first time, followed closely by Andy. It was the cherry on a summer sundae.
Learning to bee.
Fading to black on a rainy 48th birthday.
A summer song for swimming even if I wasn’t quite ready.
Full mooning and naked dreaming.
Finally, August departed.
September 2023:
A Boston visit by Dad.
A weekend in Boston with the twins provided a chance to set the scene for fall.
More lessons from Dad.
All these little deaths and a beloved visitor at 4:44 AM.
A fall season begins with a newly-found song. (And an encore.)
A not-quite-definitive post of what this website has become over twenty years.
October 2023:
This year’s BroSox Adventure with Skip had all the ingredients and mains of a complete and total disaster. It even ended on a Sunday with a rain-out, and somehow it became one of my favorite BroSox Adventures.
Hang on little tomato.
Searching for my Dad and not finding him… then realizing he was never really gone.
Stepping back into the pool, slowly, timidly… and letting the water work its healing magic.
Mom rejoined us for a fall trip to Ogunquit.
A comedy of holiday errors with the bestie.
The best break-up I’ve ever had (or, four years of not drinking).
Are we out of the woods?
A birthday dinner for Andy.
Previewing the big parade.
November 2023:
Welcome to the duck parade.
I may have married my childhood crush.
Healing times with a dear friend.
A Friendsgiving event in Boston found us re-evaluating and re-uniting after a period of hurt and misunderstanding, which is the best way to deal with shared grief. A few pockets of peace and calm saw us through a weekend of reunion, and the wild nights we have now are blessedly removed from what we once knew. A Sunday stroll paved the way for the holidays.
There was blood on the barber shop floor.
Gathering to find gratitude.
A reunion with our favorite babysitter (who still remembers us as the worst kids she ever babysat). Also, guilty.
Our new holiday hearth.
Our Holiday Stroll tradition found us going back to basics, which was our way of avoiding any real drama.
It was about time for this year’s Holiday Card. Time, time, time… see what’s become of me.
My dickie confession.
How a sex club helped me land my first office job, which is the start of a story that goes back a quarter of a century. It marked a pivotal part in my life, and I had the fortune of meeting a few pivotal people – but not as pivotal as these lovely ladies.
This year’s Holiday Stroll was a return to the simple things that Kira and I do best.
Rainbows landing in Albany.
Winter whispers …
A Children’s Holiday Hour without any real children.
Christmas brotherhood.
A cemetery visit for Christmas.
A Christmas moon.
