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.
19
May
2026
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May
2026
19
May
2026
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May
2026
Dahlia Dreams
Dahlias were opine of the first plants I ever planted as a kid – drawn solely to the picture on the label, I expected grand dinner-plate-sized blooms and every day that summer I went out and inspected them for growth and buds, all to no avail. I didn’t read the fine print about how late they started blooming, and for a kid that was an interminable exercise in patience and waiting. Throughout that summer, I watched them slowly rise, but by the time it took to get to the blooms it was already August, and the light and wind had change, signifying fall and taking away some of the summer joy that was only present on the front end of the season.
These days dahlias carry different meanings and memories ~ some sorrowful, some hopeful and bright, and some promising of some future assignation for blooms to come closer to fall. A good flower – the kind that lasts for centuries – carries shifting resonance and meaning, offering varied readings as life shifts and changes.
18
May
2026
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May
2026
Touching Grass
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.
17
May
2026
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May
2026
A Lilac Return and Recap
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.
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
Paint not by numbers but by nature.
14
May
2026
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May
2026
A Violet For Your Thoughts
Bane of our lawn’s existence, I still have a soft spot in my heart for these little violets that still manage to break through in the spring despite all the treatments. When I was little, behind our family home was a little stretch of woods, and behind the black iron gate of the pool, a swath of these violets had naturalized and provided an enchanting carpet that was lit up with purple and white violet blooms each spring.
The variegated white and purple variety was far more ubiquitous, but I always coveted the more rare pure violet blooms like the one seen here.
Boys didn’t pick violets in forests when I was little; I was a strange creature that way, and I saw no shame in it. Under the spell of spring beauty, I spent my afternoons walking in the forest, entranced and enchanted by the plants and the light and the slippery salamanders that hid under the larger rocks.
That I’m weighed down by your beautiful
Collapsing underneath your perfect
Drowning in your wonderful
And I’m letting you sink in
It’s, it’s almost unbearable
I’m suffering inside your magic
Love you something terrible
And I’m letting you sink in
And I’m letting you sink in
A violet for your thoughts seems a more precious deal than a penny.
I would always take that deal.
Anything for a flower, always more pretty than a penny, even if they didn’t last.
Maybe because they didn’t last.
14
May
2026
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May
2026
Bashful Bells
It is their scent that usually alerts me to their bloom before I see them.
Convallaria majalis, better known as lily-of-the-valley (despite the fact that is in no way a lily of any sort) is currently perfuming the garden with its heavenly aroma, and does so in a way that almost shy. Its bell-like blooms dangle mostly just below the tops of the pretty foliage, bashfully hiding their faces from prying eyes. It’s a plant I understand better than most.
It also carried great nostalgic significance – my Gram loved lily-of-the-valley – she’d use the fragrance in her soap and lotion, finding comfort in its sweetness. My love for my Gram inevitably spilled over into a love for lily-of-the-valley. Yes, they are invasive in conditions they enjoy, but the foliage is handsome throughout the dogged days of summer, when some fall victim to drying out or decay – these keep going until the frosts of fall, when the foliage turns ghostly pale before almost evaporating into paper-thin tissues.
A battle between these and the sweet woodruff would make for an especially lovely woodland war, but so far our swaths of each are removed from one another. There’s enough war in the world right now.
These happy blooms, and their accompanying fragrance, remind me of Gram, of being a boy in the spring and happening upon them in my solitary adventures through the backyards of neighbors, of finding them bleeding into the woods and stealing a few pips for my own garden.
13
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series
“We all create stories to protect ourselves.” – Mark Z. Danielewski
What have I gotten myself into?
13
May
2026
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May
2026
Living Slow
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…
13
May
2026
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May
2026
A Giant Lilac Post
Hidden among this spring’s collection of lilac-themed posts, a song surfaces, breaking through the din of the food hall at Moynihan Train Hall as I find myself departing New York after a Mother’s Day weekend on Broadway with Mom. It’s been decades since she first brought us to New York to see ‘Peter Pan’ when I was just a kid, and though our roles have flipped somewhat (with me planning and steering us around the city as best I can) it’s still fun to see shows with the woman who instilled a love of theater from an early age.
When I was a kid I built a kingdom
There in my bed
Filled it with wisdom
And all of my friends
They were like superheroes
We’d go outside and play in the garden
I’d shown my eyes and give ’em a warning
And they’d run and hide while I counted down to zero
And forever I know I won’t stop dreaming, won’t let go
A few years later, when I was in middle school, Suzie and Missy joined us for a trip to New York, where we saw ‘Jerome Robbins’ Broadway’. A little older, and on the verge of knowing everything as teenagers, we thought we were shit as much as we thought we were the shit. Simultaneously uncertain and entirely sure of ourselves, we walked around the city like we were untouchable (except for the lady who patted me on the head and said my hair was so softy and shiny).
I know we’re older
Carrying the world upon our shoulders
But I know that forever we’ll be young and bold, oh, we’re full of hope
I know I know, I know I know we can be giants
Somewhere, I know there’s a world that’s waiting out there
For you and I to shine like we are made of gold, we were made to glow
I know, I know, I know, I know we can be giants
We can be giants, Oh, we can be giants
We can be giants
Yeah, I know I know, I know I know
We can be giants
A couple of years after that, Suzie and I and our Moms were back in New York for a pair of shows that remain favorites: ‘Lost In Yonkers’ and ‘Six Degrees of Separation’. Full-frontal male nudity with our mothers was not on my bucket list, but we checked that box that trip. Suzie and I were growing up (a floppy dick bouncing around on stage does that to a person…) and in our friendship I found a certain strength and stability that I didn’t sense with anyone else.
When I was a kid I was a dreamer
My room wasn’t big, my house wasn’t either
But I had enough love to fill up a city
And all of those nights I watched the stars
They lit up the sky, filled up my heart
I won’t let go
By the time I was in college, Norma Desmond and ‘Sunset Boulevard’ had taken hold of my psyche, and Mom and I were back on Broadway seeing Glenn Close in her Tony-winning turn. The next year we saw ‘Master Class’ with Zoe Caldwell as Maria Callas – diva-dom was still calling to me in delusional grandeur, and it would be a little while until I could take myself out of the scenes to enjoy from afar; I always felt things too keenly, too deeply, for my own good, and for my own safety. But growing up changes that, no matter when it happens.
I know we’re older
Carrying the world upon our shoulders
But I know that forever we’ll be young and bold, oh, we’re full of hope
Yeah, I know, I know, I know, I know we can be giants
Somewhere, I know there’s a world that’s waiting out there
For you and I to shine like we are made of gold, we were made to glow
Yeah, I know, I know, I know, I know we can be giants
12
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series – Boston Edition
Running on Newbury Street is definitely a choice.
One made mostly by buffoons, especially when a single block over there’s hardly any pedestrians.
12
May
2026
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May
2026
My Favorite Carpet
Galiuum odoratum, more commonly known as sweet woodruff (love that name), forms a handsome carpet if you give it space and semi-shady moist conditions. Some might say it’s a little too aggressive, and I can’t disagree – I just happen to love it so much I don’t mind a little expansive colonization of the beds where it lands. It works especially well in a woodland setting, where it might roam free, producing these little white blossoms at the most beautifully tender time of the year. The flowers almost feel like an added bonus, because the foliage is so handsome in its own right.
We have several patches of this, and I’m planning on transplanting several clumps to fill in some tricky bare areas – places where tenacious aggression is actively encouraged. Gardening is a battle – some might say a war – and troops must be deployed where they are needed most.
12
May
2026
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May
2026
Confirmation Accessories
For the semi-stylish Uncle acting as Sponsor for his nephew’s confirmation, these shoes by John Fluevog fit the footed bill, while a fragrance in Frederic Malle’s line called ‘Uncut Gem’ provided a fresh jolt of cologne. Both of these items I only wear for special occasions, and the confirmation of the twins certainly constituted that.
Spring is the season of rebirth, of new beginnings, of a renewed sense of purpose and life.
I’m not sure I’m doing spring correctly this year, but it’s all good. Once the weather settles a bit, and once that sunny warmth arrives with summer, the heart will quiet itself, the nights will allow for sleep, and the journey will continue.
11
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series
The puppet here was one of the scariest things in my childhood, but I survived, and nobody comforted me when she wreaked her terror.
Gen X is just made differently. Don’t fuck with us.
11
May
2026
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May
2026
May’s Magic Manifests in this Recap
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…
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.
Back on Broadway with Mom.
Have you ever seen a woman with her fly down?
A Mother’s Day post for my favorite one.
Big mistake. Big. Huge.
