Category Archives: General

A gift from my friend and the universe, a Cape Cod sunset is one of life’s most spectacular treasures. Just as my phone chimed to signal the close of my meditation, JoAnn burst through the door and ordered me into the car to catch the sunset. Unsure of its appearance after the snow squall, she saw it happening on her way back, and we quickly drove down to the shore to catch it dipping into the water. 

The sky was incendiary – more glorious than any photo could ever capture, more magnificent and moving, and it took the breath away just as much as the chill in the air. Such beauty was worth a little time in the cold, and we stood there, over twenty-five years since we first met in Boston when we were young. With this single sunset, I felt the happy and heavy weight of those decades. 

I understood why JoAnn would often stop here for the sunset. There was a splendor to the sky that whispered of the divine, and somehow brought us closer to a sort of spirituality that transcended all religion and wonder. It was mystical and majestic – it was its own act of faith, as much of a covenant as a rainbow. 

You don’t always realize how starved the soul can be until it can be fed by such beauty. Calmly, we surveyed the magnificence in ways we could never fathom twenty-plus years ago, appreciating and acknowledging the gratitude of simply existing amid such glory. 

A dinner with several dear friends awaited us at JoAnn’s cozy abode, and our quick little chapter on this return to Cape Cod comes to a quietly contented close. 

Sensing that I needed a dose of the Cape’s rightfully-renowned natural majesty, JoAnn drove me out to the water. Years ago our friend Lee had sent us out to walk a pair of dogs she was watching, and we took them to the stretch of beach we drove past now. Lee has been gone for almost ten years – another loss, another bit of emptiness never to be filled – but as we drove by and the afternoon light hinted at spring, it felt more like acceptance than torment. We reminisced a bit about that day with the dogs, and somehow Lee was back with us, laughing and smiling and as amused as we were touched. Our loved ones do live on, even as our winter storms rage. 

The sky changed swiftly then, as though reminding us of it transient nature. You can count on friends; you cannot count on the sky or the weather. A wall of dark gray approached from a distance. We made a stop by the water and got out of the car to take it all in before the weather shifted further.

A lone swan swam in the water, its feathers echoing the white clumps of snow still unmelted. JoAnn eyed it warily, warning me that the swans here weren’t of the friendly sort. A temperamental swan prone to acting out, I thought – a creature after my own heart. Beauty and danger. 

We stood there for a while, as the swan circled its patch of water. Before it could reach us, we were back in the car and driving directly beneath the wall of gray that had now become a ceiling, and a quick little snow squall. This is the Cape, again, in another of its facets. Beautiful and ferocious. 

We made it through the squall, which was soon over, and the sun was back in the sun for my afternoon meditation. JoAnn had an errand to run, and one more gift to bestow before dinner with a few surprise friends. I settled in to the deep breathing, and the sun conspired to grant us grace…

The last time I was in Cape Cod it was beneath the cover of darkness and sadness and loss. JoAnn had just lost her mother, and though I was in no shape to be there, I had to make the trip for her, just to give her a hug at the wake. There’s nothing to be said at such moments, but it means something to be there when you can. At that time – the cruel November of 2019 – my social anxiety was saddling me with panic attacks, and being around people was becoming more and more difficult, but Kira offered to accompany me and we made the trip to see our friend as she bid goodbye to her Mom. 

Shortly thereafter, COVID hit, and we were bound to our homes without travel for a couple of years, during which time JoAnn was able to make a couple of trips up to Albany, and we would occasionally rendezvous in Boston, as we did this past holiday season, but I couldn’t carve out a Cape Cod return until last weekend. It was, as always, worth the wait, and more than worth the drive. 

Out of all of our friends, I would have bet that JoAnn and I would have been the last ones anyone thought would stop drinking and partying – yet all these years later that’s precisely what has happened, and we are both happier and better for it. Life has knocked us about and taken some of those we love, and maybe that’s made it easier to take better care of ourselves. I don’t know, we’re still finding our way – and it’s easier to do that work together. 

The world has changed dramatically since 2019, but the beauty and balm that Cape Cod has always been for me remains the same. It’s a feeling that enriches and sustains the soul, a brush with the sublime that leaves me better than I was before, if only for a moment. Those moments reside happily in memory, accessible on the coldest winter nights, ready to warm with their magic and love. 

That JoAnn should bring me back to such beauty is a fitting testament to our enduring friendship. Her home has truly become her own, with a renovated kitchen and bathroom that are simply exquisite – the ideal embodiment of her taste and style, and a welcoming interior countenance to match her personality. (I’ve already reserved the bathroom backdrop for a photo shoot in service of a new project – but I really just want to dive into a long bath there.)

On this Saturday, I arrived to the new-to-me renovations, and we quickly settled in for an intense session of catch-up before heading out to see some of the afternoon light before it went away for the day…

The passing of time is rarely felt as it happens. Our senses are far too unrefined to feel the shift of seconds, even as we hear them ticking away. Time is too moody in the way it shifts – ebbing and flowing in waves slowly drawn out or quickly smashed. It’s also dependent upon mood and perspective – and just one of those variables differs from person to person, and hour to hour. 

We gauge time largely through hindsight, when we look back at photos from the past. We don’t see it pass day by day in the mirror every morning – we see it only when we look back farther than a day. Time terrorizes in such insidious ways, ever the great equalizer. 

It feels like we only just started winter, as if that December date was right behind us, when really we have less than a month left to the season of slumber. Realizing that, I had a bit of a panic. As anxious as I am for winter to pass and spring to arrive, I wondered if I truly appreciated these slower days. I wanted them to mean something more. I wanted there to be more healing. More peace. And I don’t know if that’s happened. Maybe the not knowing is the real answer. Maybe time is the only answer. I still don’t know. I still doubt. I try to be ok with the doubt. 

Did I lean into the stark days of winter? Will there be something more trying to this season, I wonder. A brush with despondency once felt like the only way to move forward. My mind now feels scattered. Sitting down in the living room, I attempt to literally ground myself, sinking into the floor and allowing gravity to pull every part of me flat against the ground. This is where I find myself often these days: on the floor, grounded in the only way I can muster when the mind takes flight.

You can’t fall down when you’ve already been laid flat. 

The realization of mortality then shakes and shifts the ground beneath me, and nothing is revealed as stable in the end. That’s when I learn there are many ways to be grounded, one of which is to remain in the motion, undulating with the wish and whim of the world, floating like a single pink petal from a cherry blossom, so sure of its life, finite and small.

The circus has come to the town of my mind, as whispers of a new project grow louder and more insistent. It appears that this website has thus far survived the updates of the host company, so I am scrambling for something to post since I was banking on a few days of down time. Alas, no rest for the wicked. 

These pink-themed top-hat-topped ringmaster pics are from the promo blitz for last year’s 20th anniversary of ALANILAGAN.com. As I gear up for a possible new project, look for more re-treads and outtakes from previous efforts. It’s been a while since I was in creative gear, and over the last few years I’ve learned not to try to do everything I used to do. That means focusing less on substantial content here while I move into making something new. My content and output on this blog is such that one week of posts here once amounted to an entire project in and of itself. That means the volume is equal to 52 projects a year. Something has to give if I’m going to produce a new one, and so the schedule will be lighter. It’s all good. And I want to take this year a little bit easier anyway. 

So peruse the past posts when things get barren here, particularly the past that once felt so much like a circus. There’s still some crazy in this old horse.

This website could feasibly go on for the next ten years simply recycling all the old posts that you know you never read and that I no longer remember, so let’s give that scenario a whirl with this post. We will be traveling back in time for the last decade, checking out other posts that were made on this date. It’s absolutely as ridiculous as it sounds. Hang on to your hats!

February 21, 2014 – In which a lonely grapefruit reminds of the past and a naked Dan Osborne wows with that body.

February 21, 2015 – In which some of my previous laziness comes to light (I always did love a good re-post, especially if someone else wrote it) and Tom Ford revealed further evidence of his brilliance.

February 21, 2016 – In which another Tom Ford post forms the bulk of the day. I’m nothing if not consistent, which means I am nothing.

February 21, 2017 – In which a reference from ‘The Golden Girls’ informs a cocktail of the moment and plans were made for the Harry Potter play.

February 21, 2018 – Oopsie daisy! There was no proper post for 2/21/18, so here’s a weekly recap around that time to give you a feeling and a flavor, with bobsleigh butts and such. 

February 21, 2019 – In which I thought I might put an end to my tea-bagging (spoiler alert: I didn’t) and some basic office refrigerator etiquette in a quote for which I never quite asked permission. Or forgiveness.

February 21, 2020 – In which the world was about to be felled by a global pandemic, and I sought ways to be more mindful at every moment. 

February 21, 2021 – In which the age-old question of ‘Who needs new clothes?‘ gets an almost-answer and the brilliance of James Baldwin received worthy highlight. 

February 21, 2022 – In which we hit upon a semi-snarky weekly recap and continued our meditative journey while the wind raged.

February 21, 2023 – In which we go back only one year, to a time when I took the twins to a winter outing in Saratoga and later reminisced of how I got sick for the first time in four years. 

Rather than end on that dour and sour note of sickness, let’s go back an extra year, before this batch of a decade began, to see what was up on February 21, 2013: oh look at that, just posing without purpose or aim or, ahem, any clothes whatsoever. What a difference a decade makes. 

 "This is a show...

that I have no idea what is gonna happen to my voice.

I don’t know where it’s gonna come from, but give me a voice…

and let me put on a great show tonight.

And let everybody do the same, amen.” ~ Madonna, ‘Truth or Dare’

Is this thing on? Well, I have no way of knowing what is going to happen, so if this post is up, perhaps this site will go on like that Titanic theme song and a lost bit of ostentatious jewelry. If that is the case, my plans for a mini-vacation will have been dashed, and so I’m pre-populating this space for the next few days with jewels from the past. Pay particular attention to all of the blue links – they will guide you on all your ways!

That opening quote, by the way, is Madonna’s turn in ‘Truth or Dare’ right before she cancels a few shows and has to silence her voice. It seemed fitting in the event that I lose my voice here. (There’s always social media, but that’s mostly devolved into plugging this website, so it seems pointless.) Here’s the ‘Like A Prayer‘ performance from ‘Truth or Dare‘. Epic.

We’re quickly approaching the 35th anniversary of the ‘Like A Prayer’ album, and if we’re still around there will be a post to commemorate that next month. If not, bookmark this one. From Madonna to summer magic…

The featured photo was from a few years ago in happier pool times, and it felt like a good juxtaposition in the midst of this mild but still chilly winter. Apricity – may it find us soon again. I’m doing some preliminary planning for summer, given that the squirrels just shredded our patio canopy. The travails of living with wild creatures in the backyard…

A new canopy has been ordered, and the old one will soon be disassembled and added to the dumpster that must be secured for next month. Spring cleaning is on the way. In the meantime, keep your fingers-crossed that this site lives to post another day…

Monday morning is usually the slot for our weekly blog recap, but I’ve been out of town, and this site may be down for a bit if the revamp of our host company mucks things up as it’s expected to do. I’ve been mulling a little vacation anyway – this winter is ripe for the quiet that might ensue. On with a recap for anyone who missed anything…

The shock of a vibrator when all I wanted was some sequins. 

Tom Holland bottomed for Henry Cavill.

Tuesdays, am I right?

A Valentine hodge-podge.

I wore the red underwear.

Rushing toward spring.

We are the worst sign.

It’s a Wordle miracle.

Harry Styles in and out of his underwear.

The Middle Ages of Connecticut.

A very styled-out Ryan Gosling.

Nothing but excited for this.

Frozen hot desert.

Are you ready for prom season?

Tom Daley in a self-crocheted speedo.

Dazzlers of the Day included Jake Gyllenhaal and Jay Perry.

For all those gearing up for not-prom season (and it’s never too early to start planning for that shit), here’s a happy little short film by Morgan Jon Fox on the subject. Brought a tear or two to my eyes in the best possible way. Happy crying!

I absolutely cannot wait for this.

That is all. 

#ThinkPink

“Midway along the journey of our life
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
for I had wandered off from the straight path.

How hard it is to tell what it was like,
this wood of wilderness, savage and stubborn
(the thought of it brings back all my old fears),

a bitter place! Death could scarce be bitterer.
But if I would show the good that came of it
I must talk about things other than the good.”

– Dante Alighieri

There’s something ominous about using a few lines from Dante’s ‘Inferno’ to kick off a blog post about a wonderful winter weekend with friends, but the one thing that always ran through all of his work was the progression toward something better – in this case there would be no paradise without a little burn. Besides, life without drama is no life at all. 

Happily, there was only fun and loveliness on this almost-spring-like weekend in Connecticut, where I got to visit my friends Missy and Joe and their kids Julian and Cameron. They always make me feel welcome and warm, and in the midst of a winter, no matter how mild, the heart rejoices at such company. I don’t have an extensive list of lifelong friends whom I trust implicitly, and visiting with Missy is like sharing a weekend with family. 

The weather smiled upon us as well, with temperatures soaring, and a bright sunny sky of blue being the glorious backdrop for our shopping and dining excursions. Still, it was winter, and the fireplace alternately roared and settled into a slumber just as needed when the dark arrived and the cold returned. At such times, we spoke of the trials and tribulations of middle age – a lament that recalled the opening lines of this post, as the three adults fought to find our footing when our bodies were falling apart, and our minds were fatigued at seeing all that we have. 

Positing a new project, we entertained what that might look like, and with two teachers backed by a lifetime of academia, I was inspired to head back in to the creative process – something that often happens with this inspirational crew. Mostly though, our visit was a reminder of the enduring warmth and power of friendship, and the way it provides a haven in the most ravaging of winters. 

We set up another visit for spring, when at last I will make a lifelong wish come true of visiting White Flower Farm (which is turns out is only about half and hour from their home). That pilgrimage will hopefully fulfill a full-circle moment that started decades ago…

It only took 966 attempts, but I finally guessed the Wordle on my first attempt, and with a word I had never tried before: ‘FRIED‘ – because I’m working on bettering my diet and all I want is fried food. See, sometimes obsessions help us. 

Having had a love-hate relationship with Wordle over the years, this was a happy moment, as glorious as it was random, and unlikely to ever happen again. 

For those of you wondering what happens when you guess the word on the first attempt (such as the ‘Phew!’ that erupts when you get in on the sixth and final allotted attempt) I totally forgot to look, so I have no idea. Maybe it will come around again in another 966 tries. 

In the sounds of rushing water there is life, and the odd brush with the sublime rekindles memories from half a world away. Whenever I pass a stream, and whenever I have the time, I’ll pull over and pause beside the running water. It only takes a few minutes, and all I do is stand there and listen, but it makes a difference – it allows for a moment of meditation, even when it doesn’t have the customary trappings of what most might consider meditation. Being mindful and appreciating the beauty in a moment is its own form of meditation. Occasionally, deeper pondering will cross my brain at such times, and I acknowledge those thoughts, then let them go, envisioning them drifting along with the current of the water. 

Mostly though, I simply stand beside the water and watch, seeing how the sunlight might play on its little waves, listening to the way it tinkles or roars, feeling the calm it instills on its own unbothered journey. I wonder at its power and pull, lulled by its siren-like call, and somehow I feel a little better about the world. 

A stream is always worth a stop.

Further evidence of how far we have fallen since COVID: this was a recent cleaning outfit when I was in Boston preparing for a visit from Kira. A pair of ridiculously-red underwear and the top of a velour track-suit, because I was too lazy to be bothered pulling up the matching pants. Picture this going up and down a ladder taking down holiday curtains last month, and you have the illustrative embodiment of a tortured winter. 

The nonsensical match-up looked questionably striking against the bedding that’s currently in the bedroom, so I paused to capture the scene. Winter is so drab one wants for a pop of color, and if that comes from the underwear drawer then so shall it be. 

These photos are mostly for my amusement, and a bit of a tentative step back into my comfort zone (which has traditionally been walking around in my underwear). Lately I’ve felt a bit of the old creative process stirring again, that sublime time when the world whispers of a new project on the distant horizon, and hints of themes and ideas are found at every turn. The haze of this winter has been dissipating somewhat of late, perhaps a little on the early side, but it keeps me going. For the most part, I’ve been quietly embracing these winter days, taking them slowly, one by one, and suddenly we are in mid-February – half-way through the shortest month of the year (plus a leap-year day). 

It felt like springtime on this February morning…

Such winds carry the first inkling of spring with them, and the merest whiff of that fine season is enough to thrill and set the heart to hurried motion. And so I forego the black and gray wardrobe I’d adopted these past few months, and try on something colorful, something silly, something to elicit joy even if I’m the only one who ever sees it.