As previously mentioned, August is a time of plentiful rainbows in these parts. Whenever one appears, I go online to see how many others saw the same thing – it’s one of those increasingly rare moments when humans come together under a single event and have a sort of communal experience – the way we used to all watch the same television show at the exact same time and talk about it the next day. The world is at our fingertips now, but I’ve never felt so far removed from people.
Perhaps we should be throwing away all the guises we assume to please others – the roles we feel we should be playing to be more acceptable – more loved – in the world. Maybe that’s the real garbage in our lives, these ideas that we should try to fit in and be like everybody else. What a stupid thing to desire – and how difficult it is to not want for the comfort of it. I’ve always considered myself a bit stronger than most when it comes to that – able to defiantly march to my own beat, in my own strange sense of style but even I know it’s often easier to make my way through the average day in jeans and a t-shirt than some sparkling golden ensemble that practically glows in the dark. There are more than enough battles to be waged – battles that will be thrust upon us without say or choice – why would we create any more?
That said, I still want to sparkle – and I will always want to sparkle – and I’m going to throw away all that ever inhibits that from happening.
Visually, this post remains true to our Solid Gold Summer theme; musically it’s a slight side-step away from the 70’s disco sound and Egyptian accents that this summer had preciously sung out in questionable taste. Somehow, this song meets the moment at hand – when I find myself contemplating the idea of throwing away what remains of August, and summer, to the rabid wolves of the world. Usually I’m a bit more protective of this month, and these tender last weeks of the season of sun; this year I’m ready to launch full-speed into fall, forgetting every last golden bit of my 50th year on earth.
Need I say I love you? Need I say I care? Need I say that emotion’s something we don’t share? I don’t want to be sitting here trying to deceive you ‘Cause you know I know baby, that I don’t wanna go
We cannot live together, We cannot live apart That’s the situation, I’ve known it from the start Every time that I look at you, well, I can see the future ‘Cause you know I know baby, that I don’t wanna go
Just throwing it all away, Throwing it all away Is there nothing that I can say to make you change your mind? I watch the world go round and round and see mine turning upside down
Just when I’m ready to let it all go, to throw away whatever is left of this crazy season, I remember that there is still a full month of summer left. A full month to recharge in what sun the summer days might allow – a time to reflect, to heal, to rebuild, and to rediscover the things that once brought me such joy, and might again. The world sometimes seems to dim the brightest lights, and I’m not always sure I understand why. Maybe to equalize things? Maybe to check the ego. Maybe to temper what might have been happiness? It doesn’t feel like humans were meant to dwell long in elation – and the gods never did appreciate those of us who flew too close to the sun. What a rotten trick to play on humanity – to give us such a capacity for hope and emotions, only to use them against us. Sometimes it’s just survival.
Now who will light up the darkness? And who will hold your hand? Who will find you the answers when you don’t understand? Why should I have to be the one who has to convince you? ‘Cause you know I know baby that I don’t wanna go
Someday you’ll be sorry, Someday when you’re free Memories will remind you that our love was meant to be But late at night, when you call my name The only sound you’ll hear is the sound of your voice calling Calling after me
Yet August persists in her devilishly dogged way. Scrappy, fighting, resilient beast, like the Virgos born in her last days, she gets up for every one of her thirty-one mornings and faces whatever might arrive after whatever we might have done the night before. Reassurance and madness in one – attempting to throw it all away while seeing it indelibly into your memory palace. The more we fight things, the more they insist on staying lodged in our heads and, more dangerously, our hearts. In this mad world, it is a curse to feel – and to hang onto feelings. Throwing it all away might be the surest and safest path to self-preservation.
Just throwing it all away Throwing it all away And there’s nothing that I can say…
When your entire democracy hangs in the balance, as it does this election year, it’s more important than ever to rid this country of the Trump-supporting Republicans who are throwing away the very tenets of what made this country great in service to Donald Trump, an alleged pedophile and someone who has already been found liable for sexual abuse and battery. One of the few Democrats to fully fight against the Trump regime’s awful policies and hateful rhetoric, Jon Ossoff is also up in a tough re-election bid in Georgia, where he’s established himself as a candidate for the people. Better than that is his BDE (IYKYK) and swagger as he pummels Trump with the truths that the GOP and much of the media chooses to ignore or pretend away. Ossoff earns this Dazzler of the Day as a rare politician who speaks the truth and continues to work for his constituents in the face of all that the Republicans are trying to take away from us. Check out Jon Ossoff’s re-election website here, and let’s hope that Georgia does the right thing this fall.
Richie and Austen are often along for the ride They don’t say a lot, but they know every inch of this drive If these trees started talking, I bet you they’d only talk shit ‘Cause we never do anything real, we just talk about it Endin’ of August, the bugs are just starting to die All the neighbors are voting for someone who wins every time And I thought getting older meant knowing it’s too late to try And I tried getting sober, I swear I did better this time
Whoa, everything you see out here will die Ooh, it’s a matter of time ‘til it’s Fields of ice and reflector lights ‘Til it’s our town And anything you need I will provide A ride home or an alibi I know the traffic light You can speed right by ‘Cause the camera’s down And I follow New York plates to the county line I ignore ‘em when they wave on 89 The minute that September hits I’m going off my medicine, oh Late August angst, and a pointless night Ooh, and the feeling of being alive For the first time, in a long time
On the eve of their arrival, I step onto the back patio. It’s raining, and I don’t mind it. The tomatoes have started to split, and I hurriedly harvest a few, popping them into my mouth and savoring the summer moment. Pausing to take it all in, I listen to the rain, remembering a similar rainy day in which I sat beside a patch of trilliums earlier in the spring. That feels far away now – so much can happen in a single summer, even when nothing seems to have happened.
Oh we’re a drawing of a place We’re a photo on the fridge They mined copper for years Oh, there was nothing left to dig It’s a place where most kids Just grow up and have kids, who grow up and have kids Who build homes for the rich, oh
A pesky mosquito threatens the peaceful moment, and even that doesn’t annoy me the way it usually would. I wonder why I care so much less. I wonder why I don’t care much at all. End of summer blues, probably. They’ll be chased away once Ann and Missy arrive – friends always to the rescue.
Whoa, everything you see out here will die Ooh, it’s a matter of time til it’s Fields of ice and reflector lights ‘Til it’s our town ‘Til it’s our town ‘Til it’s our town And it’s ours now It’s ours now
Some plants just inspire happiness – and this brilliant begonia has always been one of those plants for me – from its fiery color to its elegant cascading structure. This year I only ended up planting one of these, but it’s filled out its pot admirably, backed by a chartreuse sweet potato vine to set off its gorgeous flower hue. Some years when it gets particularly wet and cool, these have failed, rotting before they get a chance to really shine. Happily this wasn’t one of those years, and the sun and warmth have given it prime atmosphere to show off.
Our potted patio plants always come into their own right about now – reaching maximum size and floral impact – and so long as I keep up the fertilizing and watering, this incredible show should continue until the frosts begin. Let’s slow our roll in these latter days of August.
Winning two consecutive Tony Awards for Best Featured Actress in a Play in 2024 and 2025, Kara Young holds a special place in theatrical history, having been nominated for Tony Awards in four consecutive years, and winning two Drama Desk Awards, an Outer Critics Circle Award, and an Obie Award. Add to those more prestigious honors this Dazzler of the Day crowning, and you have the brilliance that theater-goers have known about for quite some time.
Fresh heirloom tomatoes, served with mozzarella and Balsamic vinegar, and topped with salt and pepper and some fresh basil from the garden, form the simple but potent lunch treat on the plate before you. This is how summer celebrates itself, whether we decide to pause for its joy or not; the ingredients are there at our fingertips, it’s up to us how and whether we will employ them to supplement the beauty of a day. That’s enough of a mid-day post for now.
When I find myself in times of trouble, such as in these emotionally-charged waning days of 50, I have a secret weapon that has always saved me in just about every tricky situation. Looking back over the many years, I’ve come to realize that my secret super-powers have always been my friendships. Whenever I’m in the midst of doubt or difficulty, when the world has done me a wrong turn or someone has hurt me intentionally or unintentionally, my friends never fail to assemble like an avenging source of support and emotional sustenance.
It’s not usually an explicit action in response to a cry for help; my habit is not to cry, and my history is not to ask – yet somehow they all sense when I need a friend.
At those times, we’ll schedule a dinner out, share a phone call at the end of the day, or simply volley some texts back and forth that are enough to make me feel better about the world and my place in it.
As I navigate these treacherous final throes of 50, when mid-life malaise and crisis threaten to derail what personal progress I’ve made over the year, I find my friendships coming to a rescue I’ve only just realized I need – and for that I am grateful.
Anyone who’s operating under the title of The Naked Florist demands consideration as a Dazzler of the Day, and when I checked out the impressive background of New Zealand’s Naked Florist named Steve, he immediately earned his crowning here. Making use of fresh and local flowers, along with an eye for the seasonal and sustainable, Steve also imbues his work with a personal slant and an embrace of inclusivity to provide beauty for all. Check out his website here and the self-written bio that goes into the journey that got him where he is now:
Kia ora, I’m Steve, a 40-something kiwi born and bred in the Waikato. From an early age I have loved gardening – growing my first veggie patch when I was ten years old! Growing things is in my DNA – it teaches us so many things. It is also such great therapy. After spending twenty plus years in corporate roles I resigned my job in 2023 to take a career break and re-think my future. During my downtime I enrolled in the NZ Certificate in Floristry (L4) to scratch my long held itch for being a florist. Combining my extensive amateur knowledge of gardening, and the creative component of floristry I started to plan a future where all my passions could come together: gardening, floristry, environmental responsibility, empathy and shared positivity. Out of all this, The Naked Florist was born!
There’s a lot to unpack in that single sentence, and I’m not going to dissect it with my nonsense, other than the links contained therein. It probably means something different for you anyway, and that’s the beauty of sparkling writing.
Almost every August there are storms that arrive in the middle of a sunny day, often resulting in rainbows that fill the sky and thrill the senses, if you’re lucky enough to be out and about. Such was the case as I was enjoying a cup of peppermint tea and a sudden rainstorm ravaged the area around Professor Java’s. Waiting out a spell of rain in a cafe is one of life’s greater solaces, so I hunkered down until the sun came back out. The brief pause was worth it, as I managed to capture this rainbow in the parking lot – a happy reminder of whatever rainbow belief system you have (I tend to err on the side of science, but I’m old-school in my preference for facts and scientific evidence). If there is something more meaningful about the rainbow to you, have at it.
Additional proof that rainbows often inform this blog:
As the true villain of the magnificently twisted thriller ‘Obsession’, Michael Johnston delivers a chillingly nuanced performance that grounds the film in its human footing while never straying from the atrociousness that ends up enveloping everyone. For giving such villainy such a pretty face, Johnston handily earns this Dazzler of the Day crowning.
Forget ‘The Office’ – someone should do a series called ‘The Elevator’ because that’s where all the crazy shit happens. Elevators are the great equalizers of an office building.
All I have for this blog post is a provocative title, no racy finger-pricking scandal to accompany the pretty pink photos of the titular rose at hand. It’s up to the reader/viewer to fill-in-the-blanks, which always makes for a more graphic depiction of scenarios – your sick and sordid imagination fills any holes more insistently than some blatant nudity or sexual situation I might posit or deposit here.
Now I’m just playing with words and teasing easy targets, that’s when it’s not going completely over heads. People either get too much credit, or not enough – too few are the times when people get precisely what they deserve. Justice and comeuppance are the stuff of fairy tales – that’s why our darkest and most base tendencies love a fairy tale. Real life proves far more problematic – but a rose is still a rose, and a rambling blog post won’t make one damn difference in this wayward world.
