Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Our year in review continues, and this entry encapsulates four months, including the big summer break I took for the first time since this website was created in 2003. While it’s a labor of love, it’s still a labor, and that break was integral to its survival. Plus, you won’t even notice that some of July and all of August are missing, will you?

April 2017 ~

The oft-promised full-frontal Zac Efron nude photos. 

Madonna likes to get wet, and we love listening to it. (Almost always.)

Trevor Donovan gets gratuitous (like Nyle DiMarco).

I love a Kimpton, especially if it’s in Chicago. 

My Twitter profile pic looks less salacious than it once did, but I’m still not wearing any pants.

Miss American Pie. 

All Aprils, no fools. (Well, maybe one…)

Lava lamp light.

Don’t be daffy.

Beauty may be found in New York City, if you know where to look and when. 

A reunion two decades in the making. 

Let’s skip the crucifixion deal though. (You love to see me frightened.)

Betty Buckley sounds more beautiful every year. 

Andy makes a delicious dinner. 

Glenn Close returned to ‘Sunset Boulevard’ in thrilling fashion. 

Seventeen years later, I returned to the scene of my heartbreak. Chicago remained as dramatic and beautiful and challenging as ever. There were beautiful belugas beneath the blue, a second row trip to ‘Hamilton’ and memories old and new that snuck up on me in unexpected ways. I did a lot of touring on my own, but there was solace in solitude, and beauty could brighten the dullest day if you only let it. 

Mysteriously vanishing men. (And a missing bird.)

I learned how to stuff it good. 

May 2017 ~

One of my favorite months of the year, May is perennially magical, even when mud is involved.

Lilac art, bright white bedding, and the magnificent Matisse. All in a year…

A new favorite watering hole in Boston. 

One of my favorite productions of this past year. 

Those Darren Criss Speedo shots. 

Now bring us some figgy perfume!

The magic of Pietro Boselli in tight white briefs. And a few other sexy GIFs.

For some of us, May means a wedding anniversary: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

I should have just posted this one link instead of typing all the above. Lesson learned. 

A man slowing down.

A banner NYC visit for Mother’s Day: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Looking back on my delusions, Part One and Part Two, before the last part of the Flower Bomb Balm.

All delusions must come to an end, and the end of all ends is not such an end after all.

June 2017 ~ 

The bromper (or male romper), doing it doggy-style, 

A shirtless Gus Kenworthy, a smutty Saturday, and a sexy Sunday.

Fresh, fresh, super fresh, and back in the pulpit.

A naked James Franco.

My kinky boots were pink, and high as my thigh.

Our annual almost-summer baseball trip with Skip. Baseball and gay pride rolled into one spittingly good time. 

Suzie will always be older than me. 

Losing a beloved father-in-law and friend. 

Flowers for calm, and how beauty remains.

One more time around the Boulevard. For Andy. And for the very last time.

‘Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812‘.

The humble hosta, a fuchsia hurricane, and some pink lavender. 

A very naked Julian Edelman (and some bonus GIFs) and Tom Daley in a Speedo.

July 2017 ~

Not everything… not yet.

Friendships glow brighter in the summer. 

A naked Gus Kenworthy. (And a bit more here.)

The end of ALANILAGAN is in sight – far sight.

Life & death in the summer. 

Naked shower. (I don’t do it any other way.)

More naked Julian Edelman, and some new nudes of Ben Affleck.

Boston summer respite, and Boston beauty.

A tree worth coveting.

A risky Tom Ford gamble pays off for the beach. 

Getting prickly, getting beautiful, and getting some rest at long last. 

Before a brief goodbye, a reminder of how exciting life could be. 

The Madonna Timeline was back for one last entry before the break, and it was a doozy.

Waving through a window before my first summer break.

{One more installment of 2017 to come…}

If we are go by the social media monstrosities of Twitter and FaceBook, and the wretched state of political affairs in this country, 2017 was a dark and grim year, best left in the dust in the hope of a better 2018. Throughout the madness, I’ve striven to keep this small section of the internet a peaceful respite of beauty and tranquility, fun and frivolity, with the occasional dose of serious intent thrown in for good measure. I’m not sure I’ve succeeded, but let’s look back anyway. It’s the only way to move ahead. Besides, some of my favorite people appear here, and that’s always soul-enriching. 

January 2017 ~ 

 

Madonna, Inside Out. 

Feud.

Eat my banana.

Hawkish.

Tyson Beckford’s naked ass.

Pain in the neck.

Mobster music.

Man in Motion. 

The Delusional Grandeur Tour returned for its final few months (that old thing?), picking up right where it left off: Flower Bomb Balm Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

February 2017 ~

Ahh February. The less said about you, the better.

It cuts like a knife, and I’ve got the blood to prove it. 

A happy homo-anniversary. 

The brilliance that is Betty Buckley.

Super Bowl jocks & jockstraps on parade. 

That Zac Efron Freedom Speedo.

My family jewels almost all on display. 

Proof that I don’t love every single Madonna song in the world. 

The amazing artwork of Paul Richmond.

Color my ass excited.

Andy Cohen is Super.

Valentine Dance.

Music for the broken-hearted.

Andy as a very cute kid. (And an even-cuter baby.)

An Ilagan family dinner for Mom’s birthday. 

The ultimate narcissist. 

Love is pain and pain is art! Show me your graffiti heart!

The Flower Bomb Balm continued: Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

Hosting Sunday brunch, with help from the Pennsylvania Dutch!

Nick Jonas baring some skin, but not as much as Joe Jonas.

Bang it like Harvey.

One of my favorite reads of the year. 

My brother turned 40.

Red bark, not once but twice. 

March 2017 ~ 

In like a lion…

Ass Wednesday.

Still the best Madonna album ever. (And still looking good.)

I’m not afraid to look ridiculous for this blog. 

The forgiving frittata and a delicious lentil soup.

Rainbow bright.

Back to the boulevard after two decades. (And a reunion with an old crush.)

Boys at play.

Harry Judd, fit and fine. 

Snow blows.

I wanted to be Wonder Woman. 

#KimptonLove in NYC.

Smell my rhubarb.

Dancing beneath the moon.

A very naked Ashley Parker Angel. 

It’s only fair to objectify my naked ass in return. 

Zac Efron’s Speedo just kept giving. 

More of the 2017 Rear… err, Year in Review to come…

The 2017 Year in Review begins tonight, so this is one of my last original posts for this calendar year. I call it a gasp because these photos were taken in the harsh light of early day, before I even had a chance to shower or fix my hair. I was heading out to shovel the driveway (another gasp, thank you) but I paused to enjoy the winter wonderland that had arrived just in the St. Nick of time. I’m wearing a vintage parka that I picked up at a huge (70%) discount at Sault in Boston a few years ago. It’s warm and functional, but not as pretty as I’d like. Good fashion is suspended until the return of warmer weather. From here on out it’s Timberlands and hair-wrecking hoods. That’s ok. I need to let my hair down more, to not care about being perfect all the time, to wear my sweats and sneakers to the store. (Gasp again, I own both.) The older I get, the less I care about what others think. And let’s be perfectly honest: I never cared all that much in the first place. A dangerous recipe for any time, but especially troublesome at the end of the year.

PS – Only one small bit of my hair is white because there’s snow in it. The rest I earned in the last few years. I own that. Next up: the recap of all recaps.

This doll has seen better days, but then again we all have.

It’s seen worse ones too, so this Christmas she is just relaxing and throwing her hands up now that it’s all over until next year.

I know how she feels.

Still, she’s not about to recap an entire year in a trio of posts, so she really has nothing to feel that exasperated about.

Try it on me.

“I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas, as if whatever it was the pine boughs and the candles and the silver and gilt-ribboned presents and the birch-log fires and the Christmas turkey and the carols at the piano promised never came to pass.” ~ Sylvia Plath

Inside this globe of glass the air is perfectly still.

Outside, all the light and images of the surrounding room are captured and distorted and thrown back in a confusing confluence of incongruous scenes.

In this week between Christmas and New Year’s, the happy confusion reigns. With the weeks and weeks of build-up and preparation, that it could all be done in a single day seems regrettable. And so we carry it out one more week – and perhaps another after that. Andy is big on ‘Little Christmas’ which I think arrives on January 6, so everything remains up until then. (Truth be told we’ve had a couple of Christmas trees that almost lasted until Valentine’s Day, much to my chagrin.)

For now, the lights are a nice way of dealing with the darkness of winter, even if we’ve turned the corner and the days have begun to grow longer again.

“He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.” ~ Roy L. Smith

Lewis Hamilton had been a Hunk of the Day here based on his success as car racer. That ended when he called out his young nephew for wearing a dress. This is the first time I’m doing this, and normally I wouldn’t be so petty and nonsensical for such a silly feature, but I’m disgusted by what this guy did. At his Christmas gathering he said this to his nephew, who was wearing a pink dress (as kids regardless of sexuality sometimes do): “I’m so sad right now. Look at my nephew. Why are you wearing a princess dress? Is this what you got for Christmas? Why did you ask for a princess dress for Christmas?” He then screams, “Boys don’t wear princess dresses!!” while this little boy (thankfully) seems to laugh it off. It was posted on Hamilton’s Instagram feed. The boy seemed to laugh, but don’t think for one moment that it didn’t sting. And don’t think I won’t call any asshole out who does that to a child. Hey, Lewis Hamilton, real men don’t degrade little boys like that. Fuck off.

PS – Guys in fur shouldn’t talk about boys in dresses. 

While the rest of you may have the rest of the week off, I go back to work tomorrow, and I must say I’m not dreading it. I love Christmas as much as the next guy, but by the time it all goes down I’m ready to move on. Like so much else, it’s all about the build-up and anticipation. The actual event, and when that sweet Baby Jesus starts bawling, is a bit of a let-down. Let’s go back to before, when it was all possibility and yet-to-be…

I took a bit of a social media sabbatical to focus on the holidays at hand, and that’s always a stress-reliever. 

We turned the calendar page to winter, and everything’s as if we never said goodbye. 

The 3rd Annual Boston Children’s Hour took place, and instead of an hour it lasted an entire weekend. (And in the end it was freaking awesome.)

It felt like Christmas all over again. 

William Goodge, Ricky Whittle, Brandon Myers, and Dan Edgar comprised the holiday hunks of the week, while Pietro Boselli and Tom Daley provided the holiday guy candy. 

In a very short time I’ll begin working on the Year in Review, which will be up in a few days. In the meantime, for those of you lucky enough to be home and bored this week, check out the last few years of mayhem and magic:

The Year That Was 2016: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

The Year That Was 2015: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

The Year That Was 2014: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

The Year That Was 2013: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

The Year That Was 2012: Part One, Part Two

 

We turn the seasonal page to winter, because the sooner we start it the sooner it will end. With all of our cold weather of the past few weeks we should have had time to prepare, but it’s still a sad, bleak dirge until the promise of spring. During such time, I find it best to focus on beauty. Stillness. Peace. Winter carries its own enchantment and charm, it’s just less flashy, more somber. Its color palette is limited, but that also means it’s a little calmer. It demands a more refined viewing, where an appreciation of slight nuances and delicately-shaded textures reveals layers of previously-unrealized prettiness.

There are days of blue sky too, often in the aftermath of a snowstorm, when the sun reflects off all the snow and the world is brighter than any summer day. These are the unexpected delights of the season. Little jewels among the wreckage. Let’s see what else we might find…