This space is intentionally left blank because I don’t give a fuck.
12
October
2018
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October
2018
12
October
2018
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October
2018
A Gratuitous VPL Post of Pietro Boselli
Everyone’s favorite math-teacher-turned-male-model is back with a pair of scintillating pics that reveal the very definition of a VPL. I’m not talking the typical ‘Visible Panty Line’ that the acronym typically represents – this is a much happier ‘Visible Penis Line‘ for which the gay guys and straight ladies often salivate. Sometimes the hint, or the slightest outline, of the body is sexier than the naked body itself, as Mr. Boselli proves in this post. But sometimes nothing but a nude male shot will do, to which he attests in this naked post. Boselli is certainly no strangers to these pages, so stop by this one and this one and this one if you want to see more.
You’re welcome.
11
October
2018
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October
2018
Amsterdam: The Best & Worst of Times
Last Saturday I was in Amsterdam at a wedding celebration/birthday bash for family friends I’ve known since birth. It was the happiest of days, and a much-needed reminder of all the good that is still in the world. At the same time, twenty innocent lives were lost a few miles away. At moments like this, when life shows you its best and worst sides, it is difficult to find comfort. There are no words.
As we were driving up Market Street, I saw the same old dilapidated building I’d seen since my childhood. It was a tall brick-sided thing that seemed to jut startlingly out of the earth, tottering and yet somehow solid on its random corner. At a red light, Andy slowed to a stop and I snapped a photo of it on our way to get ready for the wedding. Part of it was covered with a vine whose leaves were in the process of turning red.
In the design that the vine made, this splotchy blot of red on worn brick, winding with various ventricles across the crumbling facade, I saw the heart of Amsterdam. Filled with happiness and joy, love and compassion, sadness and sorrow, anger and strife, it beat with all the tender might of our human experience. We will never make sense of it all, I thought, but together, like all those red leaves, maybe we can fill in our own hearts. With tears, with laughter, with memory, with love…
11
October
2018
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October
2018
Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series
Piece of advice: I can be just as amusing when I’m not agitated.
11
October
2018
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October
2018
Try These Potatoes
If I were a straight guy, Nigella Lawson would be my dream date. The accent, the eyes, and the talent with making some scrumptious stuff in the kitchen. She’s always struck me as one of the pretty people who was graced with an extra bounty of gifts with her talent for cooking. She definitely knew how to make a name and a brand for herself, and the rest of us took our inspiration from that in whatever way we could.
For me, it works best in something simple, like this dish of potatoes I recently saw her make. According to her, she had them in Australia, as one does, and brought her own twists to them. I did the same, as I made them mostly from memory, and mine is getting more faulty with each passing day.
Heres what I did.
Pre-heat oven to 425 degrees. Cut up six or seven yellow potatoes into uniform 1 inch pieces, leaving the skin on (that’s where all the nutrients are!) Douse in olive oil and cover with a few cloves of garlic, minced. Sprinkle some dried oregano over this, along with salt and pepper, toss together, and spread out on a baking tray. Bake for 25 to 35 minutes, turning once.
Now for the good part. After pulling the potatoes from the oven, put them into a serving dish while hot and sprinkle with a healthy dose of crumbled feta cheese. Add some fresh oregano if you have it, and dig in.
This shit is super easy, and super good.
In the worlds of Nigella, ‘That’s me, done.’
10
October
2018
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October
2018
Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series
It’s never too soon to start planning your holiday outfits.
Damn I wish I did that Christmas club thing with my checks back in January…
10
October
2018
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October
2018
Autumn Mist
When I was a kid I had visions of unicorns and rainbows and swimming with the manta rays.
When I dreamed it was of pencil sets in a thousand different colors, of feathered gowns and sequined capes and festooned headdresses.
When I walked through my days it was largely in imagination and make-believe. I held out hope that I might stumble into a hole in the forest floor and uncover a secret world of magic and monsters, tempered by beauty and fields of flowers and nearby rolling streams, all with a castle in the distance that would be warmed by fireplaces at night. When the ocean lapped at my feet on family vacations, I pictured myself holding onto the dorsal fin of a dolphin and flying through their salty environs, or barely caressing the soft slime coating the ribbon of a moray eel. These were the images I entertained in a childhood marked by wild imaginings. I much preferred the fantastical lands I could conjure in my mind than the mundane sidewalks of Amsterdam, New York.
I also had a wish to walk through a cloud before I knew what they were, thinking the thick smoke was almost solid, in which I could play hide-and-seek with friends. Then I got in a plane and flew through the clouds and they parted and dissipated and vanished into thin air.
Every once in a while, however, I’ll catch a glimpse of fog in a little valley ahead of me, and it calls to the imagination of my childhood, where anything was possible, and spells and enchantments could be cast and caught, and a pool of morning mist beckoned with the notion of what-if…
09
October
2018
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October
2018
Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series
After scouring the whole Price Chopper for a pack of plain mini-marshmallows for some hot chocolate for Noah and Emi, I finally settled for the bag of pastel-colored beauties seen here. At the check-out, the cashier was waxing rhapsodic about the pretty marshmallows.
Me: “It’s only because you don’t have any plain white ones.”
Cashier: “Aww, you’re man enough to be comfortable eating pastel marshmallows.”
At times like this I wish I could hand out a card that would instantly convey my history so she could see what a foolish thing that is to say. But how could she ever know? How could anyone ever know…
09
October
2018
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October
2018
Blood & Roses
On winter snow, they bleed their precious life out.
Dry, desiccated petals and leaves, preserved at the height of their beauty.
Frozen within and without, still they bleed.
Abstract scarlet notions and memories of murderous rage.
Staining the snow with their fury,
their history of violence.
Sacred untouched snow, defiled by this bloody blight,
All the life of the world squeezed
Tight in this vicious vice –
A death embrace.
Portending and foreboding
All icy tension and terrifying anticipation
Waiting for the madness
Waiting for the inevitable destruction.
A threat
and the chill of the world’s winter.
It sets a tone.
It paints a mood.
It bleeds warning and danger.
Coming November 2018
In The Projects Page
08
October
2018
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October
2018
PVRTD
PVRTD: The New Project
Like you’ve never seen him before.
~ Coming in November 2018 ~
Premiering on The Projects page…
Previous projects:
*Sex ~ October 1993 *Depression ~November 1993
*Love ~ February 1994 *Family ~ March 1994 *Fun ~ April 1994
*Darkness ~ September 1994 *Apology ~ October 1994
*Whimsy ~ January 1995 *Preference ~ February 1995
*Chameleon in Motion: The Friendship Tour ~ March 1995
*Joy ~ April 1995 *The Attic’s Secret ~ May 1995 *disenchantment ~ Fall 1995
*Loss ~ February 1996 * The Magical Mystery Tour: Master of Manipulation ~ March 1996
*Happy ~ April 1996 * The Royal Rainbow World Tour: Alan Is King ~ 1997
*Spin Control ~ March 1998 *The Agony and the Ecstasy of Apathy ~ August 1998
*Of Heart & Home ~ August 1999 *A Man of Mode ~ September 2000
*Man-Boy ~ August 2001 *Words of a Gardener ~ February 2002
*The Talented Trickster Tour: Reflections of a Floating World ~ 2003
*Shades of Gray ~2004
*The Revelation ~ 2006
*StoneLight ~ 2007
*The Circus Project ~ 2008
*A Night at the Hotel Chelsea ~ 2009
*A 21stCentury Renaissance: The Resurrection Tour ~ 2010
*Bardo: The Dream Surreal ~ 2012
*The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star ~ 2015
*PVRTD ~ 2018
In a lifetime of controversial projects,
this may be the most provocative of them all.
PVRTD: November 2018
08
October
2018
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October
2018
Getting My Ghapama On
An Armenian specialty, Ghapama is a cozy fall rice dish baked and served in a pumpkin. Perfect for an October meal when pumpkins are in season, this incorporates dried fruit, cinnamon and honey into the rice, lending a sweet and tart tension to a hearty side dish. In all honesty, the flavors weren’t as tantalizing to me as the presentation, and there are a few things I’d do differently the next time I make this. First, the recipe:
Ingredients:
1 sweet (or cooking) pumpkin, hollowed out with the top saved (about 3 lbs)
1 cup rice
1 ½ to 2 cups water
4 Tbsp. butter (½ stick)
¼ cup each of dried apricots, plums, cherries – all chopped
¼ cup raisins
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
Dash of salt
2 Tbsp honey
½ cup chopped nuts (almonds, walnuts or pecans) – optional
¼ cup hot water
Method:
Bring the water to a boil, then add rice. Turn to low and cover for 8-10 minutes.
In a small pan, melt butter and cook fruits, raisins and nuts for 5-10 minutes. Add cinnamon and salt. When rice is half-way done and water is mostly absorbed, add the fruit mixture and mix. Line the interior of the pumpkin with honey then add rice mixture. Leave a little space at the top (it will expand) and replace the top of the pumpkin. Bake at 325 degrees for 1 ½ to 2 hours (until a toothpick slides easily into the side of the pumpkin indicating that it’s cooked).
How I would do it differently:
First, I’m not a fan of raisins and dried fruit, so perhaps this isn’t the best dish for me. Next time I try it I’ll decrease the amount of all of that and allow the rice to be the main element. Some recipes call for sugar in lieu of honey; I like the honey, but I may add some brown sugar to tip it just this side of sweet (and balance the tartness of the raisins and fruit). I’d also up the cinnamon a bit and maybe add some freshly ground nutmeg; this recipe is very forgiving, and the few I viewed online had several variations. Unhealthy as it may be, I’d also look into adding a little more butter to everything.
Those minor issues aside, this was a grand dish, especially in the presentation and serving. You cut out slices of pumpkin and allow the rice to spill over onto each, then serve the piece to your guest. If cut all at once, it fans out like some pungent fall flower. Even though I wasn’t an initial fan of the fruit, once I wrapped my head around what it should taste like, I began to enjoy it.
This is such a popular dish in Armenia that there’s a song written about it. For the benefit of all on hand, I did not try to sing it, but it certainly sounds fun.
08
October
2018
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October
2018
A Recap for a Holiday That Shall Not Be Named
If you’ve read ‘A People’s History of the United States’ by Howard Zinn (and I highly recommend that you do) then you probably wouldn’t want to give Christopher Columbus too much credit either, but I digress. On this day off from work, a quadruple collection of blog posts will see us through the wilderness. First up is the traditional Monday morning recap of all that went down on this blog during the previous week.
A fountain in the fall: Boston.
My ‘Aunt’ Elaine turned 80 while her son Stephen turned married.
Follow the Tiny Threads.
Hunks of the Day included David Lim, Jay Mohr, Beto O’Rourke, Dallas Keuchel, Michael Avenatti and Steve Gold.
07
October
2018
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October
2018
An Honorary Aunt Turns 80
The featured photograph was taken twenty years ago, as my ‘Aunt’ Elaine turned sixty. Impossible to believe that she’s turning eighty tomorrow, mostly because she’s ten times more active than I am, and I’m getting tired just writing this. A lifetime of community activism and work is impressive; that she has barely slowed down in all this time is the veritable mark of legend. After making Amsterdam her home in the early 70’s, she not only set down roots, but crafted a legacy built through hard work, endless volunteering, and transformations that saw her evolve from wife and mother to Montessori school founder and teacher, to various Presidents of organizations (I lost count of all the Presidencies which she has earned and served as).
She has played an active role in the General Federation of Women’s Clubs since 1979. Aside from basic life functions, I can’t think of anything I’ve done since 1979. As we gathered for a joint celebration of her birthday and her son Stephen’s marriage to Hye Sun, I was once again happily astounded by how she managed to elicit such a collection of people who have loved her all these years.
No one else can bring people together in such a way, and she is the living embodiment of the old adage that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It’s but one of the many things I have learned from watching her over the years.
I always wondered how she found the drive and energy to do all that she does. I’ve seen her traverse New York City and Europe in the span of three weeks, then return and have a pistachio cake on the table for an impromptu dinner. Her indefatigable spirit, even in the face of hardships and tragedies, is the stuff of hyperbolic myth, and events which might otherwise have derailed persons seemingly less-frail were surmounted in almost super-human fashion. Yet through all her personal pain she’s always devoted her life to serving her community. In a way, that became her purpose in life. It emboldened and fulfilled her in ways that the traditional confines of a stay-at-home Mom and widow could never allow. It never sacrificed her family life, not in any way I could see, and her example, coupled with my Mom’s, helped me become a person who never saw gender roles limit what any of us could become. That didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult – it simply meant they worked extra hard to make sure none of us noticed.
A very modern woman who values history, she is the living embodiment of how we keep the stories of our families going – these stories that told us where we were from and how we got to be where we are today. Those stories are no longer being passed on as much, but she continues to do her best to ensure that they are not lost. Tomorrow, we pause to honor all that she has done, and also to celebrate how lucky we are to have her in our lives. Happy Birthday, ‘Aunt’ Elaine!
07
October
2018
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October
2018
Tiny Threads: An Insignificant Series
I’m always surprised by the power of a mimosa on a Sunday morning.
Don’t pooh-pooh the mimosa.
07
October
2018
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October
2018
The Many Falls of Madonna
It’s been a while since we’ve had a Madonna Timeline and I’m just about to do the iPod shuffle to find the next entry, but before that let’s take a look back at some of her fall entries. Perhaps some of the most striking and memorable were the songs that came from her fall promotional push for ‘Evita‘ in 1996. ‘You Must Love Me‘ and ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina‘ are two classic timelines that have come to personify that autumn at Brandeis for me, for better or worse. ‘Buenos Aires‘ and ‘Rainbow High’ were slightly lighter fare, while ‘Another Suitcase in Another Hall‘ brought us to the precipice of winter.
Going back a bit further, her ‘Bedtime Stories‘ album, released in early November of 1994, was her most fall-like album to date. It began with a sweet ‘Secret’ and was all about ‘Survival‘, though she waited until winter before deciding to ‘Take A Bow‘. That fall release set the precedent for 1995’s ‘Something to Remember‘ ballad collection. Two of the new songs from that somber beauty were ‘I Want You‘ and ‘You’ll See‘ – which are some of her most powerful and under-rated gems, and aligned with very distinct memories (not all of which have aged well – I was young and dumb!)
Speaking of youth, ‘Pray for Spanish Eyes‘ was my childhood memory of trying to find God or grace or something to keep me alive to the next day. I must have succeeded in some form as I ended up living to ‘Die Another Day‘. Both songs remind me of the somber season, when we start putting the land to bed for the long sleep of winter. The raking of leaves, the snaking of chimney smoke into a gray sky, and the hint of ghosts at the edge of a forest – all these ravaged the mind on the verge of Halloween, when masks are sanctioned for fun or protection. Falling like acorns or the last petals of a late-season rose – the tender sweetness of an unexpected delight. One final send-off of beauty, and all the while Madonna forged a fall soundtrack.
It wasn’t a good sign that I met an ex-boyfriend at the time she was about to release ‘The Power of Goodbye‘ from her glorious ‘Ray of Light’ opus. The video was an aqua and turquoise-tinted wonder, with shades of Joan Crawford’s ‘Humoresque’ – moody as all fuck, emotionally as rocky as its featured shores. That’s fall, though, isn’t it?
I’ll close this Madonna post out with ‘Masterpiece‘, from 2012’s uneven but still brilliant ‘MDNA‘ album. Coming as it did very late in the fall months (well before the album was released), we were just entering the high holiday season as it straddled the end of fall and the precipice of winter. The perfect sparkling gem for that special time of the year. We approach it now.
