Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Dazzler of the Day: Ricky Martin

It’s been almost a quarter of the century since Ricky Martin unleashed ‘Livin’ La Vida Lola’ upon the world, and while he’d already forged a sizable entertainment career prior to that, it was the self-titled 1999 album that shot him to pop culture superstardom. Since then, it’s been a wild and sexy ride of sorts, with acting gigs and Broadway ventures and singles and albums. Last year looked rocky for him, but he seems to have come out of it vindicated. For enduring in the sometimes-soul-crushing business that is show, he earns this Dazzler of the Day

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A Treacherous Monday Recap

Mondays always carry the risk embodied by the featured photo here – there is danger lurking just ahead, no matter how unlikely it may be. And so we enter another week in winter, but this is one with a little bit of hope, a distant light of spring at the end of its proverbial tunnel. Let’s put the past week officially to bed with a recap, then charge ahead. 

Gearing up for our 20th anniversary of ALANILAGAN.com, I put the kettle on the burner

Meditation on a rose

Tale of a Target tweet.

The brightest of mocktails to stave off the winter. 

Don’t fuck with Madonna on my time.

A Troye Sivan appreciation post

This lion never sleeps.

The perfection of the imperfection

Tibet by way of Cambridge

Finding mindfulness in a dish rag.

The ducking truth.

Signs of hope first in the house

Jaxon Layne and Lolo.

Of football, jockstraps and Tom Brady.

Dazzlers of the Day included Nick Offerman and Brandi Carlile.

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Of Football, Jockstraps & Tom Brady

He’s nowhere near the big event this year, but Tom Brady decided to garner all the attention (at least from certain websites such as this one) by posting a selfie of himself in his own underwear line. Well-played, sir, well-played. Rob Gronkowski, himself no stranger to underwear shots and other naked shenanigans, called Brady out and lamented he didn’t do it quite right by hiding the package. The Gronk would know, and that’s not something you usually hear. (No offense to Mr. Gronkowski.) 

The last time I was really into the Super Bowl was in 2012, over a decade ago, when Madonna triumphantly headlined the half-time show and showed the world how it was done. Adam Levine made a shirtless play for our affections recently, and Beyoncé worked that stadium like gorgeous thunder, but I’m still partial to Madonna’s old-school theatrics. 

As for this year, I have no idea who is even playing or what Dazzlers of the Day might strut their stuff on the field, and I’m not even all that excited to see Rihanna, but I’m happy to see others enjoy this day. Besides, it’s a chance to look back at all the ball-happy posts we’ve done in service of bowls super and otherwise over the years, as seen in the following links:

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Jaxon Layne & Lolo

These days my Dad isn’t always engaged or aware of everything around him, but every once in a while we get him to perk up, and then we get to see the glimmer of the man he used to be. My newest nephew Jaxon usually gets Dad to smile and pay attention, and he seems equally enthralled by the old man in front of him, making it a happy connection for both. 

Over ninety years of age separates these two guys, but they seem to have a bond that cuts those years away – the heartwarming connection between grandfather and grandson. 

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Signs of Hope in the House

Even before the first shift in birdsong that I noticed this weekend, the houseplants were telling us the road to spring was just ahead. The mirrored re-flowering of the Christmas/Thanksgiving/Easter cactus happened a couple of weeks ago, meaning that there was similar light to the late fall when it last bloomed. Then there was a burst of flowers from an orchid (which is too spectacular to share outside of its own featured post to come) and a new batch of leaves on the Audrey ficus.

A new crop of bright chartreuse leaves on the traditional weeping fig also signaled that spring was on the way. Their young forms are thin and delicate, with a dewy shine that stiffens and ripens into the deeper mottled form that the rest of the leaves eventually grow to carry. I love this contrast now, and I love that we are almost halfway through the last full month of winter. Hang on like these little leaves – the journey is just beginning…

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The Ducking Truth

Never in my life have I needed to text the word ‘ducking’ to anyone, yet it’s all my phone thinks I want to write.

Duck all of this. And duck you too. 

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Finding Mindfulness in a Dish Rag

When I first started exploring meditation and mindfulness, I began with Thich Nhat Hanh’s book ‘The Miracle of Mindfulness: An Introduction to the Practice of Meditation’. It was a very good place to start, even if my skeptical mind wasn’t quite ready at the time to receive much of its wisdom. In fact, the chapter on finding mindfulness when washing dishes at the kitchen sink almost had me giving up on the whole endeavor. 

Back then, I wasn’t about to discover mindfulness while washing dishes at the kitchen sink. I wasn’t about to discover anything while washing dishes at the kitchen sink other than annoyance or agitation, because how on earth would any sane person find something as wonderful as mindfulness in such a position? It took a while, and a lot of dishes, before I pushed through and began to understand. 

My unlocking of the possibility for mindfulness came to me in the shower, as so many things do. (I need a waterproof board and marker for all the genius thoughts and ideas that have gone down the drain because I couldn’t remember them thirty seconds later.) I’d been reading the book and trying to put Hanh’s words into practice, taking the time and making the effort to be mindful and present in the moment, just experiencing every sensation and granular movement in and of themselves, and suddenly it clicked. That shower remains in my mind as a turning point, when I realized that, with some care and focus, I could find mindfulness in the most mundane of tasks, and a certain peace could result from doing so. 

That was two years ago. I’ve been meaning to revisit Thich Nhat Hanh’s book to see what I likely missed that first time around. On a recent morning, two years ago to the date of that mindful shower oddly, or not oddly, enough, I found myself washing the pan and plate from a quick breakfast I had made. As I ran the dishes under the hot water and watched the soap bubbles gather, I remembered the notion of ‘washing the dishes to wash the dishes’. Over the years, my repulsion of doing dishes had eased, and I took these moments as opportunities to be calmly with myself, especially on mornings where Andy was in bed and probably wouldn’t be thrilled to come out to a sink full of plates. 

As I rinsed off my plate and turned it round within a dish towel, I felt the texture of the fabric in my hands, the residual warmth of the clean, smooth plate, and the delicate scent of lemons drifting up from the soap. My eyes moved to the window, where I watched an icy mix fall almost imperceptibly from the sky – gray precipitation from a gray bank of clouds falling on gray fences and gray land. I saw the beauty there – the subtle beauty of winter – and I felt the beauty by being absolutely present in the stillness. There, then, was the moment of mindfulness. All other worries and tensions eased while the dishes were being washed. Appreciating them for their service – the vessels in which a sustaining meal was carried to my mouth – I placed them carefully back in their places. 

“If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not “washing the dishes to wash the dishes.” What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes, the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future—and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh, ‘The Miracle of Mindfulness: An Introduction to the Practice of Meditation’

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Tibet by Cambridge

Many years ago, I found myself trudging through a winter day in Cambridge, MA during a weekend in Boston by myself. Hurrying away from the bustle of Harvard Square and all the annoying college kids, I found myself on a quieter stretch of sidewalk, where I came upon a little store whose entrance was draped in strings of bells and colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind. Seeking respite and peace, I ducked into the small space, where a man sat behind a little register, and two tiny rooms were filled with clothing and prayer bowls and Tibetan objects. 

Tibetan flute music played over the sound system, filling the store with the calming sounds you may hear below. A stick of incense emitted curls of smoke, which drifted into every corner of the store – not overbearing or heavy, like incense can sometimes be, but light and airy and cleansing. 

On that day, the man behind the counter taught me how to tie a scarf for maximum warmth, and I found this collection of Tibetan music. I play it every winter, around this time, when one needs some solace from the lengthy drudgery of the dark season. It instils a calm, partly from remembered quiet nights in the Boston condo, where I’d drift to sleep in the warm comfort of that brick fortress, partly from newer memories conjured from evenings of tea, with warm light and warm blankets on the conversation couch after a dinner by Andy. 

The cup was a gift from Suzie from her trip to Denmark this past summer. Andy uses it for coffee, but once in a while I’ll use it for tea, especially on winter evenings when something precious is appreciated. A Friday night in February feels like just such an occasion. 

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The Perfection of the Imperfection

My attempts at cooking certain things have proven some of the most fertile grounds for learning to embrace the imperfections inherent in daily life. Multiple pancake disasters, a few bad run-ins with the rising of yeast, and a spilled pan of candied yams here and there have conspired to chip skillfully away at my desire for perfection, forcing a valuable lesson in accepting defeat, and embracing the notion that the quest for perfection is a losing one. 

With that in mind, I present this plate of folded eggs, which looks a bit of a mess and fright but is actually one of the easiest and most delicious breakfasts I’ve made in a year. I was idly swiping through my phone to pull myself out of some social media cooking/recipe hole I’d plunged into thanks to Babs, and I lazily paid scant attention to a folded eggs idea which was just scrambled eggs that weren’t stirred as much, left in an-almost runny state. I got the gist of it then fell not-so-promptly asleep (as one does when scrolling through the phone while in bed). 

The next morning I remembered the basics of the recipe, and decided to give it a try. For this version, I used four eggs, a couple of thinly-sliced scallions, a small bunch of chopped parsley, a smaller bunch of chopped cilantro, some dill weed, salt and pepper. Then I added a few tablespoons of half-and-half and whisked it all together. I heated a medium-sized pan, and dropped in three generous pats of butter – once they melted and started bubbling, I poured the eggs in and let them sit. Turning down the heat, I gently began pulling the cooked bottom layer around so the liquid parts could reach the pan. Repeating this carefully until it was all just barely runny (I turned off the heat completely once they were getting close) I then rolled the whole thing onto a pretty plate. (For scrambled eggs, I would have been more vigorous and regular in my stirring.) It wasn’t meant to look pretty, as the goal was a rustic but delicious dish, and I went into it expecting and desiring a bit of that imperfection. The end result delivered – more for the mouth than the eyes, and that’s what matters. 

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Dazzler of the Day: Brandi Carlile

My favorite moment of the Grammys this year (yes, even more favorite than Madonna introducing Sam Smith and Kim Petras, which was epic enough) was Brandi Carlile’s wife and daughters introducing her performance. Carlile is no stranger to the Grammys, having added to her staggering total of wins again this year, and she is no stranger to many of my social media friends, as evidenced by the outpouring of love that happens whenever I see someone post something on her. She earns this Dazzler of the Day honor for a career of determined focus and singular talent, and for being brave and fabulous when it’s not always easy to be either. 

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The Lion That Never Sleeps

Standing sentry at the entrance to the Copley Fairmont in Boston’s stately Copley Square, this golden lion has been greeting visitors with nobility and grace for as long as I can remember. Lions are plentiful in Boston, and I love spotting them scattered throughout buildings and architecture, from the top of the Old State House to the pair of peaceful stone giants framing the staircase of the Boston Public Library. There are less famous lions, and one of my favorites is in this front corner of a private residence in the South End

All of these lions remain stoic and silent, a lesson in stillness and power. While the winter rages and the summer burns, they stand unbothered and unburdened by the maelstrom around them. In that respect, I long to be like these lions.

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A Troye Sivan Appreciation Post

Troye Sivan has been featured as a Dazzler of the Day in this post from a couple of years ago, so today’s feature is just a little form of further appreciation for their talents. Unsure of whether they’re the new official face/body of Calvin Klein, perhaps this should be an official audition in the event that they’re not. 

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Dazzler of the Day: Nick Offerman

Most of us know Nick Offerman as a force of sly, comedic genius, but that doesn’t always translate to remarkable dramatic work, as many actors have proven over the years. His recent turn on that episode of ‘The Last of Us’ has proved a veritable revelation, illuminating the sublime talent that has been at the heart of Offerman’s career. (His tender rendition of ‘Long Long Time’ is already one of the most riveting moment of television I’ve ever watched.)

Joining his ‘Last of Us’ onscreen partner Murray Bartlett as Dazzler of the Day, Offerman earns this crowning for a richly varied career and ongoing enthusiasm for all his crafts. To that end, Offerman is a Renaissance man in the truest sense, he sings and plays guitar, he performs on stage and writes, his latest book being ‘Where the Deer and the Antelope Play’, and he continues to indulge in his passion for woodworking. Check out his enchanting website here, where this is also a schedule of his upcoming live performances

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Don’t F&ck with Madonna on My Time

Words from the Queen:

“It was an honor for me to present Kim Petras and Sam Smith at the Grammys. I wanted to give away the final award which was album of the year, but I thought it was more important that I introduce the first transgender woman to perform at the Grammys – a history making moment!! And she won a Grammy too! Instead of focusing on what I said in my speech thanking artists like Sam and Kim for their fearlessness, many people chose to only talk about close-up photos of me taken with a long lens camera who would distort anyone’s face by a press photographer!!
Once again I am caught in the vortex of ageism and misogyny that pervades the world we live in.
A world that refuses to celebrate women who have hit 45 and feel the need to punish them if they remain strong, willing, hardworking, and adventurous.
I’ve never apologized for any creative choices I’ve made or the way I dress or look and I won’t start. I’ve been degraded by the media since the beginning of my career, but I understand that it’s all a test and I’m happy to be pioneering in that field too so that all the women behind me have an easier future.
As Beyonce would say you won’t break my soul
I’m looking forward to many more years of subversive behaviors, pushing boundaries, facing the patriarchy and most of all, enjoying my life.
Bow down my bitches!” ~ Madonna

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The Brightest of Mocktails to Stave Off Winter

This is that miserable time of the year when any and all sorts of trickery to get through the winter are actively employed, such as in this spur-of-the-moment lavender mocktail. (Lavender is all the rage these days.) I squeezed a bunch of limes and a lemon to form the tart base, then tempered it with some sweet lavender syrup, and added some mint seltzer to top it off. (The latter was just some plain seltzer that I let sit with a few bags of mint tea submerged.) It was an ode to summer – when all those ingredients would be in ready and happy supply, some of which could be culled directly from the garden in the case of the lavender and mint. 

I added some vodka to the proceedings for our recent dinner guests, so it can be made however you want or desire – for me, the vodka wasn’t missed, as it was the flavor that brought me back to those sunny days. Garnished with twists of lemon and lime, it was a little reminder that summer will return.

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