After enjoying this summer’s sabbatical from everyday blogging, I realized the importance and need of a break from such an incessant posting schedule. We used to do a Monday morning recap of the week that came before, but come Monday afternoon I was already posting a new set of entries without a moment to breathe. My life takes place largely off-line, believe it or not, and I want to get back to that, so I’m establishing a new posting schedule – to which I may or may not adhere (depending on any number of moods).

The first change will be shifting the Monday morning recap of the previous week’s posts to Monday night. Second, and more importantly, I’m incorporating my own little “weekend” break on Tuesday and Wednesday – which means this blog will go dark for both those days. (Absence makes the heart grow fonder.) It also affords me some recharge time to keep things interesting; I abhor filler posts, and I’d rather not say anything at all than fill this space with nonsense simply for the sake of routine. Besides, the moment something becomes an obligation is the moment it loses much of its charm. I’m not quite ready to erase that kind of enchantment. This is a labor of love.

The walkway leading to the house has been swept.

The hydrangeas have ripened to their leathery fullness.

The last vestiges of summer hang on in defiance of the calendar.

Inside the glass door, the living room sits quietly in wait.

The bookshelves have been dusted. A candle flickers on the coffee table. There is a bouquet of flowers that looks like it’s been both meticulously and casually arranged. A fringed damask lamp glows in the corner, but enough light from a bay window spills into the room to lend it cheer and tranquility. On a sumptuous couch, a sea of pillows cradles the softest blanket in the world. You may remember the space. I’ve brought you into this room several times over the years. This time is slightly different. We’ve been apart for a while, and there’s the usual moment of readjustment. It’s not quite awkward, but it feels new enough to be slightly disconcerting. We will take our time getting reacquainted.

A tray of dainty crust-free sandwiches shall be brought, and your choice of tea. Do you take lemon or honey? There is coffee on hand as well, though if you’re like me you’ll want cream and sugar for that. I’d offer you a cocktail if it wasn’t so early in the day, but we’ll have more than enough time to graduate into headier libations later. For now, we begin in sober fashion.

You haven’t brought a coat or hat, so there’s nothing much to distract from our immediate reunion. I don’t hug everyone, no matter how long it’s been. That’s not an indication of disdain. Please, sit. It’s been so long. Where do we begin?

I suppose we should start with the summer. How do you encapsulate an entire season in a single sitting? The cup plant rose, flowered, went to seed and fed the yellow finches along the way. The cold Maine ocean lapped at our toes and tickled our ankles. The sweet potato vines crept steadily down from their perch while the papyrus crept steadily up to the sun. A baby bunny appeared on the lawn one day, nibbling on the grass, and we let him stay a while. He had a small white spot of fur in the middle of his forehead, and somehow managed to steer clear of more ornamental leaves.

I returned to an old cherished tradition of reading one classic per summer, and this year it was ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte: “I would always rather be happy than dignified.” If you have any proposals, I’m looking for a good fall read. Something cozy, with a few yarns of intrigue, maybe tinged with the macabre for the approach of the dark season.

Mostly, though, I rejoined the living. It took a few days to get accustomed to it. I’d been conditioned to always think of the next post, to consistently catalog the events of a day into written format, to document everything that happened for future dissertation. When that went away, I felt a profound freedom, and a sense of relief. It was so enjoyable, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to come back.

I did have moments of missing it. When a wonderful animated short on a gay romance showed up online, I wanted to post it and share it with the world (it will be up shortly). Instead, I sent it to a few select friends, who each replied with their take on it – and it was more of a response than I would have received had I posted and promoted it to the masses. It was the major lesson in this vacation: the ones who matter remain constant, and the one-on-one time I spent with them was more worthwhile than connecting to a million people on a broader social media scale. In some ways, that was incredibly reassuring.

But I also realized that I missed having a voice. A summer of silence is a good thing, but when the focus turns indoors, when I had a moment or phrase I wanted to share, I pined for an outlet. FaceBook and Twitter and Instagram can only express so much. My stories took more than 140 characters, required a complete lack of censorship, and could only be fully realized in a space like this.

Today, I honor this place, and anyone who has deigned to return here. I’ve come to know a few of you off the online grid, but this is for everyone who came back. I hope there are a couple new visitors too – I do my best to be extra kind to first-timers.

END OF MAY OR EARLY JUNE

THIS PICTURE-PERFECT AFTERNOON WE SHARED

DRIVE THE WINDING COUNTRY ROAD

GRAB A SCOOP AT A LA MODE

AND THEN WE’RE THERE

AN OPEN FIELD THAT’S FRAMED WITH TREES

WE PICK A SPOT AND SHOOT THE BREEZE LIKE BUDDIES DO

QUOTING SONGS BY OUR FAVORITE BANDS

TELLING JOKES NO ONE UNDERSTANDS

EXCEPT US TWO, AND WE TALK AND TAKE IN THE VIEW 

ALL WE SEE IS SKY FOR FOREVER

LET THE WORLD PASS BY FOR FOREVER

FEELS LIKE WE COULD GO ON FOR FOREVER THIS WAY

TWO FRIENDS ON A PERFECT DAY

It began before we knew it was beginning. That’s the way it happens. The anxious anticipation of winter melting into spring, and in the blink of an eye we’re sliding into the waterfall of summer. And then, just like that, summer is over.

We put away the pool towels, the swimsuits, and the canopy.

We shut windows, close doors, and abandon the patio furniture.

The sound of splashing water and children’s laughter grows distant, fading into cooler nights, disappearing in chilly mornings. An ominous fog creeps into the break of day, one I eye uneasily as I’m going through hazy ablutions. Drying my hands at the kitchen sink, I look out upon the faded garden. Soon it will be struck down by a single hard frost. But I’m getting ahead of myself. We haven’t even begun to talk about summer, and that one idyllic summer day…

WE WALK A WHILE AND WE TALK ABOUT

THE THINGS WE’LL DO WHEN WE GET OUT OF SCHOOL

BIKE THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL OR

WRITE A BOOK OR LEARN TO SAIL

WOULDN’T THAT BE COOL

THERE’S NOTHING THAT WE CAN’T DISCUSS

LIKE GIRLS WE WISH WOULD NOTICE US BUT NEVER DO

HE LOOKS AROUND AND SAYS TO ME

“THERE’S NOWHERE ELSE I’D RATHER BE”

I SAY “ME TOO”

AND WE TALK AND TAKE IN THE VIEW

WE JUST TALK AND TAKE IN THE VIEW

Once upon my youth, summer was about friendship. It was about finding that other person with whom to share a sunny day or, perhaps more importantly, a rainy one. It didn’t mean dramatic exchanges or life and death conversations, it just meant someone willing to spend a few hours together in the bright start of the day. By dinner we’d return home to our own families, then come back out for hide-and-seek before the day closed again.

Back then, I didn’t have many friends who carried over from school into my home life – and certainly not in the summer. I saw enough of those people during the school year – summer was my time. I exulted in the ease of solitude, the quiet way I could meander through the forest or garden without worrying about whispers or being perfect. With the exception of Suzie, who was there for the birthdays and big events like a sister, my summer co-horts consisted of neighborhood kids, my brother’s friends, and my brother himself. That’s all I needed. That’s all I wanted. 

ALL WE SEE IS SKY FOR FOREVER

WE LET THE WORLD PASS BY FOR FOREVER

FEELS LIKE WE COULD GO ON FOR FOREVER THIS WAY

THIS WAY

ALL WE SEE IS LIGHT FOR FOREVER

‘CAUSE THE SUN SHINES BRIGHT FOR FOREVER

LIFE WILL BE ALRIGHT FOR FOREVER THIS WAY

TWO FRIENDS ON A PERFECT DAY 

Did I miss it? I wonder. Did I miss the joy of my own companion at that time? I don’t know. For so long I’ve tried to convince myself that I was happier alone, that it was easier and better to be by myself. A nagging sense of social anxiety made solitude a simple solution, and I can’t deny that I enjoyed it as much for its own pleasures as the ease it afforded my social unease. But there were moments I missed someone being there. On those times when my brother was doing other things or simply not in the mood to do what I wanted to do, I’d go it alone.

Those solitary adventures held a different sort of childhood enchantment and allure. There are things that we need to do on our own as kids that shape us into who we will be as adults. It’s not what you do when you’re part of a group, even if you go against the tide, it’s what you do when no one is looking that reveals the person you’re going to become. I wanted to see who that person was, as much as it sometimes frightened me. So I tread my own path, carved my own way, and climbed my own trees. 

AND THERE HE GOES

RACING TOWARD THE TALLEST TREE

FROM FAR ACROSS THE YELLOW FIELD I HEAR HIM CALLING “FOLLOW ME”

AND THERE WE GO

WONDERING HOW THE WORLD MIGHT LOOK FROM UP SO HIGH

ONE FOOT AFTER THE OTHER

ONE BRANCH THEN TO ANOTHER

I CLIMB HIGHER AND HIGHER

I CLIMB UNTIL THE ENTIRE SUN SHINES ON MY FACE

AND I SUDDENLY FEEL THE BRANCH GIVE WAY

I’M ON THE GROUND

MY ARM GOES NUMB

I LOOK AROUND

AND I SEE HIM COME TO GET ME

HE’S COMING TO GET ME

AND EVERYTHING’S OKAY

Were I to fall from such lofty heights, there would have been no one to rescue me. Were I to trip and open my skin or twist my ankle there would have been no one to pick me up. It’s best that we don’t think of such things as children. We’re more invincible that way. Invincible while in grave peril, for there is no more perilous time than childhood. And certainly no more perilous time than childhood in the summer, when all the sweet sunny days promise endless bounty and never-ending freedom, only to come to a sad and irrevocable ending in September.

When I think back to those summer days in which I vacillated between wanting friendship and wanting to be left alone, I don’t recall feeling as torn as I sometimes feel today, but I do remember a feeling of want… Part of me still longed for another. A friend who was more like me, who took joy in discovering wildflowers instead of skateboarding, someone who had a quieter nature and would find contentment just reading in a formal living room as the rest of the world went wildly by.

I never had a friend like that, not as a child, and now I wonder at what I might have missed.

ALL WE SEE IS SKY FOR FOREVER

WE LET THE WORLD PASS BY FOR FOREVER

BUDDY, YOU AND I FOR FOREVER THIS WAY

THIS WAY

ALL WE SEE IS LIGHT

‘CAUSE THE SUN BURNS BRIGHT

WE COULD BE ALRIGHT FOR FOREVER THIS WAY

TWO FRIENDS

TRUE FRIENDS

ON A PERFECT DAY

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During one of the last downpours we had on Friday, the basement of my parents’ home in Amsterdam flooded with raw sewage, something it has done regularly for a few years now. This time was the worst, as it rose over a foot and destroyed everything they had stored there. Their next-door neighbors had a more damaging experience – it came through the toilets and poured out, ruining much more than an unfinished basement.

This has been a city pipe problem that no one in Amsterdam seems to care enough to correct, but I’m guessing if a lawyer is involved the health hazards of raw sewage to a household of four (including two young children) and a city negligent in correcting a problem that has been reported countless times over the years (not to mention the destruction of an entire floor of stored items and the carpeting that leads upstairs) would be a slam-dunk of a lawsuit. (At the very least, it would make for one of those local news stories that you watch because you’re thrilled you’re not the ones involved.)

For now, I’m imploring any City of Amsterdam officials to do something. Thus far, my parents have been given the run-around, with one person saying it’s the responsibility of someone else and then that person saying it’s the responsibility of the first. The end result is nothing but raw sewage running through the neighborhood pipes with no corrective action.

UPDATES: Still awaiting any response from my tweets to Senator George Amedore, Jr. and Assemblymember Angelo Santabarbara, and a FaceBook tag of Amsterdam’s Mayor Michael Villa…

JULY 16, 2017: Another back-up resulted in more toilet paper and raw sewage coming up through the basement sink. Some of it still has not yet drained.

JULY 18, 2017: Michael Villa, the Mayor of Amsterdam, responded to my FaceBook post with the following: “Lets first be fair. I have met with all those that are facing this unfortunate situation and we have called in McDonald Engineering to investigate this issue. To say that this is a “new” problem is unfair and untrue. I have read all the reports and this dates back to 2006. I wish I could tell you this is an easy fix but that is unrealistic since this has gone on for 2 previous administrations. To place blame at this point is unfair. There is a solution that all residents were told years ago and that was to purchase and have a back flow preventer installed. The home that sits below the three houses impacted by this has one and he has reported no issues. We are working to get this problem resolved to the best of our ability but to expect it to be corrected immediately is simply not possible. My door is always open if you would like further information.”

First of all, no one ever said this was a “new” problem – if anything, it is blatantly obvious that the problem has persisted for years and no one has done anything. (Words like “regularly” and “countless times” are the antithesis of “new”.) My parents don’t care about politics or administrations when it comes to raw sewage entering their home, so to bring that up makes no sense and has no bearing on the situation. After speaking with my Mom, I discovered that the cost of the back flow preventer would be about $3000 to $4000, but if the problem has to do with faulty pipelines then why should a retired couple have to pay that much for something that should have been solved many years ago? My Mom also informed me that the engineer who originally told her about the back flow preventer said that it was a law that they had to have one installed. She did some research into that, and it appears that she was lied to. She’s not sure if it was an effort for the city to not have to deal with the pipe issue by making the residents pay for a temporary solution to a bigger problem, but it certainly sounds as though that’s plausible. Personally, I’m not getting bogged down in blame and politics: the bottom line is that right now there is raw sewage still sitting in my parents’ basement, the current Mayor of Amsterdam is Michael Villa, and we are waiting to see how long it takes for this to be rectified.

JULY 19, 2017: The Mayor stopped by my parents’ home after our FaceBook exchange. It was an admirable demonstration, and my Mom had a decent conversation with him. Later, Angelo Santabarbara stopped by and took a tour of their basement, offering his engineering experience on what might be done to rectify the matter. My family is appreciative of both appearances, and looks forward to seeing a solution on the horizon. I’m glad to see that something is being done, and I’ll keep this post updated as to the progress that results. Thanks to both gentlemen for taking the time to set this into motion. We shall see…

AUGUST 1, 2017: As reported by the local news crews, Assemblymember Santabarbara and Mayor Villa have made the pipe improvements a priority for the city. They interviewed my parents at their home and it looks like work has begun on rectifying the issues that have plagued the city for years, with a $900,00 influx of money to Amsterdam to make it happen. I’m very impressed, and my parents are very grateful, that movement has finally begun. Looking forward to a more permanent solution, and I thank Mayor Villa and Assemblymember Santabarbara for their personal consideration and work in this instance. (They have yet to hear anything from George Amedore, Jr.) Perhaps by the time this blog returns to its fall schedule there will be a happy ending, and I’ll be able to write a positive story on crappy situation.

It always strikes me as amazing, whenever I attend a Broadway show, that these talented performers are doing their shows eight times a week- that they’ve done it countless times before and may do it for countless times thereafter. I feel lucky to catch a favorite when they happen to be gracing the stage, or revisiting a once-in-a-lifetime performance when lightning strikes for a second time.

Philosophically, that’s how I think of this blog: as a daily ritual and performance for a small audience of dedicated favorites – and I’ve managed to do it consistently for well over a decade. If you’ve been away from it for a few days you can catch up with the more extensive Blog page, or search the archives for a specific date and navigate through ‘Older posts’ when the option appears. But if you’re a regular, you know that I’m here at least twice a day with some sort of nonsense or fluff or, when I’ve been extra-prolific, something worthwhile and soul-searching.

That sort of schedule takes its toll, however, and as mentioned it’s almost time for a break. A small one for now; a bigger one down the line. Rather than take the air out of the sails, it will hopefully reinvigorate our juices – both in my creative output and perhaps in your thirst for visiting.

Lately it feels like things have been getting watered down, or, even worse, repetitious. In the past, I’d create one or two projects a year. I’d have a few months of exciting creation – organizing inspiration and ideas into a workable theme, focusing on refining and editing passages, and putting it all together in the solitude and secrecy of my own space. This blog has made all of that public, as I work things out in diary-like fashion. It has become an endless project of its own, evolving and morphing through the years, but never offering a break or moment of rest.

I want to get back to the idea of an event, a release that happens on a certain date and lasts for a specific duration. Something that can be encapsulated for the future, and that has a beginning a middle and an end. Something finite and sure. A traditional project. Like the sculptural rendering of Albany’s iconic Nipper, in various painted forms throughout the city. They won’t last forever, and like the Dutch clogs that stormed the city a couple of years ago, their magic is only fleeting – but here I am talking about shoes and dogs in a way I can only wish this blog is discussed at some point in the future.

I also want to get away from a daily schedule. My Virgo nature enjoys a good timeline and the comfort of a regular program, but the most enchanting parts of life tend to be surprises – I want to capture that unexpected magic, to show up unexpectedly and disappear in similar fashion. A tendency of the trickster should prevail for anything as fleeting and whimsical as a blog.

Relax! We have the whole summer ahead of us! But this blog won’t be back next Monday, and so we won’t have another recap until late September. For now, let’s look back on our final full week here – it’s still too soon for the back-to-school specials to begin.

Julian Edelman got naked again and no one complained.

Things got a little prickly here.

We need beauty, we need art…

Sleeping sperm.

Summer sabbatical.

Ben Affleck nude in the shower.

Boston brings beauty.

Before the rain.

Dinner during the rain.

Oh heavenly garden.

The hunt begins.

The Ultimate Hunk Collection.

A different kind of rear view.

The last Hunks of the summer included Chris Pine and Sean Sarantos.