Category Archives: General

Allow me to explain the title of this post, or at least make an attempt.

This is not about blow-jobs.

This is not about giving head.

It’s not about sucking the juicy life out of a hibiscus bloom, or even lapping up some hibiscus tea.

It’s a reference to how we can live things out solely in our heads, the way I lived out most of last year’s Island Summer in the pictures and ideas of a tropical flower, such as this hibiscus, wet with a morning’s watering regime.

Much of this lilac spring has been fantasy and head-living. The the outside world refused to cooperate weather-wise, when we were struck down with sickness, when one simply felt icky and drab with dampened spirits, I’d retreat to the beautiful yarns running through my mind, a place that has never failed to elicit escape and wonder and enchantment in the darkest of days.

For now, when rain is in the forecast and summer seemingly backs away from its approach, a list of summer starts to remind us how life in the sunny season may once again come to pass…

Old banks have the best air conditioning.

Money must be so cool.

Saving it for the summer…

No matter what you are doing or where you are going, if you happen to pass a lilac in bloom you must stop to inhale its perfume.

This is not negotiable.

Having grown up in an age without the internet, and being around for the technological revolution that brought the entire world online, I’ve always had a relatively healthy balance between online and real life. (It seems like I’m on social media all the time, but the truth is I’m usually on three times a day – just to post links to these blog entires.) The time-crunch is in writing these posts, not bopping around on social media, so when this place went offline this past week, I had a lot of time and freedom to touch grass, as they say.

It felt in some ways like I was returning to the world, and I absolutely loved it. The idea and feeling of free time was entirely foreign to me, so it did take a few days of adjustment where I felt like I was walking around like a stunned mullet. (The fish, not the hair-style.) It takes a while to adjust to that when you’ve been doing daily posts for decades. Being quickly adaptable allowed for me to switch swiftly into this new groove – spending time outside, swimming in the pool, picking up the gardening chores that had been piling up, and making multiple trips to the nursery for mulch and soil and plants (the one drawback of the Mini-Cooper). Suzie and I met for Yemeni coffee (well, matcha) at a new place in Latham (Shibam) where I handed off keys for Boston – she’s heading there for a Belle & Sebastian concert this week. (Hello Fox in the Snow.) And I’ve resumed outfit preparation for dinner and a show with Sherri and Skip in a few weeks (lots of sequin and bead work before I go as blind as a nun). Life is for living.

The past week felt a bit like living a secret life, where the curtain was closed, and all the behind the scenes action became the real story – untold except for those directly participating. It was thrilling, and a welcome reminder that it’s good to shake things up to jumpstart a whole new chapter.

We reluctantly return to where we didn’t quite last leave off in our lilac spring, as my website has been down for about a week thanks to the company, Enom, who held my domain name. Apparently the folks there had a difficult time figuring out that I, Alan Ilagan, am the actual owner of alanilagan.com, and it took a full week to convince them that the person running alanilagan.com was in fact Alan Fucking Ilagan. Way more on that later – for now, a recap on what you probably missed, as most of these posts went up the the site was down. Ahh, technology…

I will say this: a mandated break from blogging was precisely what my soul needed, and things will be a little lighter around here come summer. I’ve still got a lot of living to do, and being away from the three-post-a-day grind reminded me how wonderful that was. The universe grants its lessons whether we want them or not, and I’m at the age where I no longer push back against them. This was a good break, reminiscent of the summers I used to take off completely. Not saying I’m going to do that again but not entirely ruling it out either. Visit while I’m still here…

It began in childhood torment, as so many weeks do.

When you ask your fabulous Guncle to be your confirmation sponsor, you get all the fancy accoutrements that go along with such a request.

This is my favorite carpet, even if it doesn’t quite match my drapes.

#TinyThreads: Boston Edition.

A giant lilac post for your reading/listening pleasure.

Living slowly, with purpose and intent.

“We all create stories to protect ourselves.” – Mark Z. Danielewski

Ring these bashful bells.

A violet for your thoughts?

Paint not by numbers but by nature.

At no other time of the year do I try to inhabit the present moment as much as spring.

It all moves so swiftly once the warmer weather kicks in (assuming that will happen by the time this post goes up).

And all I want to do is stop, pause, and take in all the beauty around me.

I know it won’t last, and I want to remember…

Reaching the almost-mid-point of a thus-far rather chilly May, the birds and the bees and flowers and trees have still been putting on their annual show. Nature hustles to catch up to its own delays, and for now I pause to enjoy the coolness because by August we’ll likely be melting and wishing for relief. Live in the present moment, and remember what the days were like in February. On with the mid-May weekly blog recap…

Bat shit crazy.

The red candle.

Our lone Dazzler of the Day was Ben Cosgrove.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: non-functional decorative buttons are often the sign of a hobbled mind.

A cat story. Me-ow.

Pink and pea-like floral bridge, not to Terabithia.

A lilac spring comes finally into its own.

A low-key wedding anniversary glowed quietly in Boston.

Paving the way for peonies via the tulips.

Abstract floral accident. Whoopsie-daisy.

Primary colors in Boston.

A lilac rebound.

Back on Broadway with Mom.

Have you ever seen a woman with her fly down?

Music for not sleeping.

A Mother’s Day post for my favorite one.

Big mistake. Big. Huge.

A lilac bouquet.

A brief bridge of redbud flowers, currently lighting up the sky in this glorious color and form.

This website needs more brief blog posts like this.

That’s all.

Soothsayers and magically-inclined thinkers had indicated that the burning of a red candle on the day of the full Flower Moon may result in abundance and clarity and all sorts of good stuff. Hedging my bets, I burned one during my meditation on that precious day. No word yet on abundance or clarity, but maybe these things take time. I suppose that’s a pretty safe bet in general – the older we get, the more we tend to gain both of those things, and I doubt very much that the burning of a candle, red or otherwise, plays much of a direct role. At best, it might give some sort of placebo encouragement to compel me to get off my ass and make them happen for myself. Chicken or egg, sometimes it doesn’t matter what came first, just what’s for dinner or breakfast.

My favorite month is in glorious swing, so rather than spend my time writing out a tedious introduction to the weekly recap, I’m going to get right into it…

Wrestling with demons that refuse to remain dormant is always fun.

A spring star set to florals and music.

Sleep pattern interruptus.

This is not a pug.

A confessional in more ways than one.

What even is real anymore? Am I real? I’m the OG AI.

I can see the heaven in your eyes. Wrong song, wrong artist, wrong story…

At April’s end, lilacs in the rain.

A midnight morning meditation. You do the math.

A May Zing!

Rosemary: protection at the entryway.

Cherry popping season is at hand. Stop the bleeding.

Tulipa.

Dipping the dick into a lady’s pond.

Dazzlers of the Day included John Lam, Ilana Glazer, LJ Benet, and Rochelle Jordan.

The Kwanzan cherry was in bloom this week – just as the pool was being heated to a glorious 80+ degrees for a few lovely days that justify the pool heater every year. Pink against a sky of blue is always a sight to behold, and in the strong sunlight the colors revived all that had dimmed during the recent long and cruel winter. It already feels far away, and for that I’m grateful. It’s never too soon to start thinking about summer heat, summer sun, and summer fun.

If you have sun where you might be, go out now and enjoy it for a minute – or an hour – or the whole day. Never take a sunny day for granted.

Tra la, it’s May, the lusty month of May
That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray!
Tra la, it’s here, that shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear!

It’s May, it’s May, that gorgeous holiday
When every maiden prays that her lad will be a cad
It’s mad, it’s gay, a libelous display
Those dreary vows that everyone takes, everyone breaks
Everyone makes divine mistakes, the lusty month of May

Ahh, May – my most favorite month in almost all the ways, but rather than set up expectations (there is a full moon happening after all, and that always derails the most pristine of plans) I’m going with a laid-back bit of appreciation for the day, and I’ll take what joys and delights as they come.

May musical memories are rife with romantic foibles and paths strewn with broken heart wreckage. Happily, there are also lovely memories for this magical month, and sometimes the hand of destiny is kind enough to grant us that which will bring happiness and sustenance through the years.

It’s May, it’s May, the month of yes you may
The time for every frivolous whim, proper or im
It’s wild, it’s gay, a blot in every way
The birds and bees with all of their vast amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast

Tra la, it’s May, the lusty month of May
That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray
Tra la, it’s here, that shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear

Yes, May has a wicked sort of spell to cast sometimes, and it is at such times that I need to remind myself of who I am, lest I lose myself to May’s madness as well. Andy and I will be celebrating an early anniversary weekend in Boston, and I’m looking forward to harnessing full moon magic and letting the stars wreak their havoc. Seeing oneself through the storms is sometimes best accomplished with a partner. We have rings to wash, gardens to revisit, and dinners to enjoy… It’s May! The word says it.

Father forgive me, for I have sinned, it has been three and a half decades since my last confession and these are my sins: just fucking kidding – no way would my sins over the last few decades fit into a single confession, blog post, or even an entire website that’s been around as long. Instead, my confession is only to myself – a confession of not remembering who I am.

Not in the literal sense – I still know my name, I still know (mostly) my history, I still know what I do in the world – I mean in the sense of forgetting my own worth and value, misplacing them at various points this past month, or perhaps year. The usual doubt and disbelief in myself that can’t be conquered as simply as one would think for someone with my perceived bravado.

Spring doesn’t always aid in building such self-belief, and as the screws tighten on winter’s coffin, the expectation of elation is sometimes only the set-up and starting point for disappointment. So it is that I seek stillness and quiet, sanctuary and respite in a world seemingly bereft of such things.

On lunch, I walk up to the church where I used to go when Dad was dying. It wasn’t a moment of sadness, more of reflection, and oddly enough, comfort. The Easter celebrations had been over for a while – a collection of dead Easter lilies sat sadly in the entryway – no scent or fragrance emitting from the dessiccated blooms, but the foliage was still green. I hoped someone would plant them in a garden and give them a chance to come back next spring. Unlikely, but while they stood in the hall I reserved hope.

Long ago disillusioned by the machinations and patriarchal shadiness of the church, I understood that this wasn’t about religion – this was about a peace and spiritual grace that had nothing to necessarily do with God or saints – one hard look at the human condition in the world should give God-pause to anyone with half a functioning brain. On this day, I looked around at the beauty that man had crafted – in the church, in the way the Easter lilies had been cultivated into bloom, in the overall atmosphere that had been erected in the purpose of peace and contemplation and congregation. I also acknowledged the space for mystery – something unseen or unknown to the human mind, something sacred and religious in a different way. I allowed room for doubt, room for forgiveness, room to weep out of frustration and madness in being unable to be more than just human.

The past few weeks have found my sleep patterns wildly deviant from how they normally play out. I’ve been getting to bed earlier, out of sheer exhaustion, then dropping off quickly, only to awaken at 1 or 2 in the morning, when I remain restlessly awake and heart aflutter for another hour or so. Maybe it’s just old age arriving somewhat prematurely. We get less sleep as we get older, or so I’ve been told. More waking time to do more waking things, I suppose. 

To combat the sleepless moments, I’ve been revisiting a favorite book, ‘The God in Flight’ by Laura Argiri. May this excerpt send us off to sleep tonight…

“…And solitude and loneliness are forms of torture, and they also yield some wisdom. I’ll give you what they gave me. The first thing is that there is nothing in the world more important than knowing and loving someone else well. And the second is, know your own nature, accept it, and let no one and nothing alienate you from it. You have as much right to it as anyone else has to theirs.”

April runs out of time this week, and perhaps that’s best for a month that was such a wild rollercoaster of weather, a riotous ride of emotional and astrological mayhem. As we careen to the end of such a month, this blog has a few more tricks and treats up its sleeve before the glorious entry of May. For now, the weekly blog recap of all that just happened, where you want it or not…

Jockstrap-studded clickbait.

Has anyone else done this?

“If a Virgo in your life seems unhinged, honestly they’re not. They just realized they’ve been doing everybody else’s job this whole time and quit without notice.”

Electric hues of spring.

Beneath falling petals.

It’s only a paper moon.

A Spanish lavender show.

What a shit show.

Lavender mist beginnings.

A pair of ants.

A Saturday morning pause.

My garden forever.

Short attention span theater.

Jockstrap glimpse.

Lilac wine recurring.

Dazzlers of the Day included Shawn Hollenbach, Simon Lycett, Mitski and Matt Cain.