Category Archives: Male Nudity

A tour, no matter how delusional or make-believe, often includes some sort of life-on-the-road, and that means a stay at a hotel. Suzie and I were recently discussing whether we could live in a hotel for an extended period, and I initially said I absolutely could – it’s been a fantasy of mine. She claimed she’d get tired of it, and if I seriously contemplate the logistics involved, I suppose I would too. Still, it’s a nice fantasy to have.

Coming back to a clean room with freshly-folded towels, a bed that’s been immaculately made-up, and a bathroom that’s been re-stocked with cute little soaps and shampoos is certainly a lifestyle to which I could grow accustomed. {Insert your requisite ‘Andy-already-does-that’ comment here.}

There’s just something about a hotel room that sets me at ease. It goes along the same lines of traveling to new places. Some people have such an albatross of history and reputation that being outside of their customary space offers instant freedom. The tethers of image are not easily shorn, but finding oneself in a different city or place temporarily frees us from being known.

Many people find it reassuring to be among those who know them – friends and family and acquaintances who make them feel safe. I know that ease, and the heartening familiarity of seeing a face you know in a room filled with strangers, but being in a new environment and expecting to not know anyone has never bothered or scared me.

The limbo of travel status, and the state of staying in a hotel, is reinvigorating. It enlivens and sparks exercises in creativity. Forced to step outside our habits, into a strange room with strange sheets and a strange layout, we become something strange to ourselves.

THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR

Next Stop: Ogunquit, Maine

The entry is traditionally peaceful. After the bustle of the lobby, and whatever check-in surprises occur, along with a crowded or uncrowded elevator ride, the walk down the hallway is the first level of hushed tranquility that a hotel usually affords. Bags in hand, and key in (or on) door, I take a deep breath as I enter the realm of the Hotel Room.

With its quiet stillness and luxury of alone time, there has always been something meditative about those first few moments in such a temporary home. The ordered neatness of it, the perceived cleanliness (even if it’s just a façade) contribute to the notion that there is safety there. The Virgo nature is such that order and sterility, even if merely false, is ever a comfort. Happiness is a perfectly flat bedspread, accented by a border of pillows and crisply turned-down sheets.

After setting down bags, and quickly perusing the bathroom, I look out the window to ascertain the view. Even the worst views allow some sort of light, even if it’s muted or shaded by surrounding buildings. Light is life, and most hotels wisely have large windows to allow for as much of it as possible.

Then, in hushed privacy and anonymous tranquility, the delicate dance with solitude.

With the bombardment of sounds and sights and relentless stimulation, the sudden quietude of a hotel room is blissfully shocking.

The light shifts as the hours pass, but nothing disturbs the quiet.

At the dimming of the day, or sometimes sooner, I feel an itch to get out – as necessary and vital as it feels to remain, and I’ll change into something new and explore wherever I happen to be.

Knowing that the room will be there when I return is enough.

Knowing that its silence will remain intact is a solace.

Knowing that no one else knows me here is a relief.

Every time a photo of mine gets banned from FaceBook (and it’s only happened on two or three occasions) I see a surge in traffic on this website, so while on some level it’s annoying that an anonymous nobody can report a photo (doesn’t the basic tenet of being accused of something require that you know your accuser?) on every other level it’s a win.

Here is the offending photograph, a cheeky shout-out to show my excitement regarding the release of Matthew Rettenmund’s fantastic ‘Encyclopedia Madonnica 20’ (which will get a proper write-up in a bit). It’s hard to see this as anything more than a risqué bit of artful nudity, but in the world we live in I guess people would rather see pictures of bloody fetuses or murdered students than any artistic depiction of the unadorned human body. No matter.

Given the quick turn-around of this post, one might think it was just a ploy for precisely this reason, and that I was just waiting/baiting for someone to report it. I can assure you from my ever-loving heart that nothing could be further from the truth. [Wink-wink.] What do you think this is, ‘Justify My Love‘? I’m not making any money off of this.

But I do welcome any and all reports of nudity, because it makes this site what it is. Now kiss my ass!

“The man’s features weren’t as unusual as his clothes. He was somewhere between young and old, handsome and ugly. His eyebrows were sharp and thick, and his cheeks had a healthy glow… Below narrowed eyes, a cold smile played at his lips. The kind of face it was hard to remember, especially since it was his unusual clothes that caught the eye. Put another set of clothes on him and you might not even recognize the man.” – Haruki Murakami, ‘Kafka on the Shore’ 

“I know I’m a little different from everyone else, but I’m still a human being. That’s what I’d like you to realize. I’m just a regular person, not some monster. I feel the same things everyone else does, act the same way. Sometimes, though, that small difference feels like an abyss. But I guess there’s not much I can do about it…

I wanted to tell you all this as soon as I could, directly, rather than have you hear it from someone else. So I guess today was a good opportunity. It wasn’t such a pleasant experience, though, was it?

Only people who’ve been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I’m as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S. Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they’re doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don’t want to do…

Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas – none of them bother me. I don’t care what banner they raise. But what I can’t stand are hollow people. When I’m with them I just can’t bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn’t…

Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it’s important to know what’s right and what’s wrong. Individual errors in judgment can usually be corrected. As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around. But intolerant, narrow minds with no imagination are like parasites that transform the host, change form, and continue to thrive. They’re a lost cause, and I don’t want anyone like that coming in here.” – Haruki Murakami, ‘Kafka on the Shore’

“I wish I could just laugh off people like that, but I can’t.” – Haruki Murakami, ‘Kafka on the Shore’

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star moves from Boston to Cape Cod this weekend, with the arrival of new friends from England and a reunion with all the old Cape buddies. Being in travel status always excites me, and not only because I get to break out the Louis Vuitton Keepall. Touring is a state of mind, and being on the road is sometimes safer and more secure than being at home.

Living out of luggage carries its own set of challenges and drawbacks, but it also affords more opportunities for shopping. (I consistently find myself without a pair of shoes or jacket, or pants as these promo photos will attest, necessitating impromptu buying excursions wherever I happen to be. This is not entirely unintentional.)

That sense of unplanned possibilities goes against my very Virgo grain, but in the best way. It jars and jostles, veering into unknown and unfamiliar territory, and setting my head just slightly off-kilter. Sometimes it’s good to be a little unfocused, a little less anal, good to go with the flow. Touring affords these valuable lessons, and I’ve designed it that way.

Complacency = Death.

It’s the first official day of summer, even if we’ve been celebrating it for quite some time. (The longer this sunny season goes, the happier we seem to be.) This will be a busy one, for various reasons, but before we get down to all that nitty and gritty, let’s just ease into things with a frolic in the pool and a couple of throwback skinny-dipping shots.

This year I haven’t been in the pool much – there just hasn’t been time – but with the warmer weather I’m looking to change that. There have been enough pool photo shoots that I don’t think another will be missed. (And if it is, go here, here, here, here, or here.) Link-a-rama! Like Chick-a-rama only with links. Ok, it’s summer and my mind is on vacation. Seek sense somewhere else. Happy Sun & Fun!