Though they were all over my TripAdvisor account, I neglected putting food stories up during my desert postings, so here’s a quick visual feast for anyone needing a dose of goodies. Needless to say, as one can easily see here, I ate quite well during my desert sojourn, and will bring some inspiration back for a couple of May meals. After all, May is for margaritas.
Our first full week of April has come and gone, and if early predictions of temperatures today are correct, we seem to be skipping straight to summer. Ahh, the roller-coaster ride of the Northeast. And they wonder why I’m moody as fuck sometimes… On with the recap!
Simon Dunn exposed his naked ass to get things off to a rollicking start.
The Madonna Timeline returned with a whimper at first, with this unimpressive ditty.
Zac Efron and the dreaded camel toe.
Nyle DiMarco exposed his naked ass too. (I’m sensing a theme…)
Spring in a single photograph.
Seth Fornea churned butter in nothing but an apron, and it must have simply melted.
My shirt was on, but my pants were off for a new profile pic.
Holding onto the delusions a little while longer.
The Madonna Timeline returned again, this time in good, old ‘American Pie’ fashion.
Hunks of the Day included Aaron Lee Smith, Fabio Fognini, Braeden Wright, Guillaume Cizeron, Andrew Harris and Jake Jensen.
When pressed for a tablescape for a recent dinner (an admittedly first-world problem, but since I don’t live in the third-world we’ll just have to make do), I bypassed the traditional flower bouquets and went with two small pots of ivy. We need green more than ever right now, as winter refuses to limp away. There are dirty patches of snow everywhere, and even with all the rain nothing is getting those eyesores to budge. This was a bandage on that, and it lasts longer than any ten-dollar bunch of flowers.
Soon I will see if I can force some cherry branches, or possibly a dogwood, to hasten spring along. Some things are better rushed.
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
A LONG, LONG TIME AGO
I CAN STILL REMEMBER HOW THAT MUSIC USED TO MAKE ME SMILE
AND I KNEW THAT IF I HAD MY CHANCE, I COULD MAKE THOSE PEOPLE DANCE
AND MAYBE THEY’D BE HAPPY FOR A WHILE…
Chicago: April 2000
A new millennium had broken, and now my heart was following suit.
At the tail-end of my most serious relationship to date, I found myself about to depart Chicago, where I’d moved to make a life with my boyfriend. We’d been there almost a year ~ arriving at the end of summer, kicking leaves through that bright burning fall, and breaking up like patches of ice at the end of a difficult winter ~ but as I packed to leave one final time, I felt a tug at my heart at leaving the sprawling city where I hadn’t quite put down roots. Mostly, though, I felt the pinch of having to leave a man I still loved, even if I knew it would never work.
DID YOU WRITE THE BOOK OF LOVE
AND DO YOU HAVE FAITH IN GOD ABOVE?
IF THE BIBLE TELLS YOU SO…
NOW DO YOU BELIEVE IN ROCK ‘N’ ROLL,
AND CAN MUSIC SAVE YOUR MORTAL SOUL
AND CAN YOU TEACH ME HOW TO DANCE REAL SLOW?
He had started sleeping in his own bed. There’s nothing lonelier than having someone sleep in another bed in the same house. Even being alone is less lonely than that.
I knew he’d made the right decision. In my heart of hearts I knew. But that didn’t make the hurt any less. That didn’t offer much consolation. Being right isn’t the best way to feel better about yourself.
I would hear him weeping quietly some nights after the decision was made. It made me feel better, that I wasn’t the only one in pain. ‘Good,’ I thought to my eternal shame. ‘Good.’
Would it have been better if there had been someone else?
I wondered.
Once, a couple of weeks after we’d already broken up, I caught him looking back at a guy on the street and smiling. Filled with a rage I’d never known, and simultaneously shot through with the knowledge that this was really over, I almost fell to the ground, paralyzed by the sudden sting of it. Instead, I calmly said I’d see him later, then ducked into a store to collect myself. I never let on. He never noticed. We might have gone through life that way if he hadn’t been brave.
WELL, I KNOW THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM CAUSE I SAW YOU DANCIN’ IN THE GYM
YOU BOTH KICKED OFF YOUR SHOES, MAN, I DIG THOSE RHYTHM AND BLUES
I WAS A LONELY TEENAGE BRONCIN’ BUCK WITH A PINK CARNATION AND A PICK-UP TRUCK
BUT I KNEW THAT I WAS OUT OF LUCK THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED
I STARTED SINGING…
BYE, BYE, MISS AMERICAN PIE
DROVE MY CHEVY TO THE LEVEE BUT THE LEVEE WAS DRY
AND GOOD OLD BOYS WERE DRINKIN’ WHISKEY AND RYE
SINGING THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE… THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE
This was a death for me. This would be the last time I’d ever give my heart so completely, the last time I’d ever enter into anything without a fortress strong, and a barricade. That time of innocence, that beautifully tender time of optimism and hopeful belief ~ I let it die. Maybe all my tears and sorrow were for that, and not just for him. Sadly, pain is pain, no matter what the reason or source, no matter how much one tries to talk or rationalize a way out of it.
Even today, I retain sole rights to the innermost chambers of my heart. Just in case.
I MET A GIRL WHO SANG THE BLUES
AND I ASKED HER FOR SOME HAPPY NEWS
BUT SHE JUST SMILED AND TURNED AWAY
I WENT DOWN TO THE SACRED STORE
WHERE I’D HEARD THE MUSIC YEARS BEFORE
BUT THE MAN THERE SAID THE MUSIC WOULDN’T PLAY
Suzie picked me up to drive all my stuff back to Boston. I showed her around Chicago briefly, but my heart wasn’t in it. There was nothing happy about this visit. As I brought her to various landmarks, I remembered how I had visited them myself, mostly alone, but sometimes with him. We had once watched the beluga whales at the aquarium, right after the break-up, and I remember wanting to cry in the blue-aqua light, peering in at such sadly-captive creatures, ghost-like in beauty and longing. Their perpetual smiles were the cruel masks of nature, and I remember reading something that said the corresponding alchemy of laughing and crying were quite similar in make-up. Again, understanding something does not always make it easier. If anything, you’re at a greater loss.
WELL NOW, IN THE STREETS THE CHILDREN SCREAMED
THE LOVERS CRIED, AND THE POETS DREAMED
BUT NOT A WORD WAS SPOKEN
THO CHURCH BELLS ALL WERE BROKEN
AND THE THREE MEN I ADMIRE THE MOST
THE FATHER, SON AND THE HOLY GHOST
THEY CAUGHT THE LAST TRAIN FOR THE COAST
THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED
We rented a truck and somehow found our way back to the apartment in the days prior to GPS and cel phones. I ran up and down the three flights of stairs a number of times with Suzie and him, and when the last item was loaded Suzie got into the truck and waited. I went back one final time. There was nothing much to say. It had been my longest and most serious relationship. It had been the one I thought would last. It had been… the one. I had no contingency plan, no other way to go.
We hugged. He said we did good. In the kitchen by the back door, we stood beside one another. I had made him dinner there. On chilly nights when the heat wasn’t enough I’d stood in front of the oven trying to get warm. Nothing very momentous had happened in that spot. Until now.
Somehow, by the grace of MapQuest or Suzie, we found our way out. Chicago was entering my rear-view mirror, a vestige of the past, and I didn’t look back until we were well beyond me being able to see anything.
WE STARTED SINGIN’
BYE, BYE, MISS AMERICAN PIE
DROVE MY CHEVY TO THE LEVEE BUT THE LEVEE WAS DRY
AND GOOD OLD BOYS WERE DRINKIN’ WHISKEY AND RYE
SINGING THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE
THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE
As for this cover of the classic Don McLean song (reportedly written in nearby Saratoga Springs, NY) Madonna did reasonably well at least according to some critics (and McLean himself, who gave her version glowing remarks). It didn’t catch on with the public, but the beautiful video, William Orbit’s luscious production work, and Madonna’s own creamy vocals (backed by Rupert Everett no less, when they were still on speaking terms) worked to create a reprise of musical Americana. The second of her movie-music bridge songs between ‘Ray of Light‘ and ‘Music‘ (the first being ‘Beautiful Stranger’), ‘American Pie’ was a rare non-event in Madonna’s lexicon. Intended to cross-promote her appearance in ‘The Next Best Thing’ (whose brilliant soundtrack had her prints ~ and two songs ~ all over it) ‘Pie’ found her biding her time until Mirwais arrived on the scene.
I was waiting for something else.
Sadness to pass…
Forgiveness to come…
Healing to happen.
BYE, BYE, MISS AMERICAN PIE
DROVE MY CHEVY TO THE LEVEE
BUT THE LEVEE WAS DRY
AND GOOD OLD BOYS WERE DRINKIN’ WHISKEY AND RYE
SINGING THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE
THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE
WE STARTED SINGIN’
WE STARTED SINGIN’
WE STARTED SINGIN’
WE STARTED SINGIN’
SONG #139: ‘American Pie’ ~ Spring 2000
A sigh, then, before the very last entries for The Delusional Grandeur Tour.
A pause, if you will, before we careen into the final plunge of this ride.
A moment, tucked into the end, and saved just for us.
For the ones who remain.
You know who you are.
It’s been a while since we last posted a proper Delusional Grandeur Tour Book entry, and as we’re down to the final pages, each one brings us a little closer to the end of all ends. I’m not unhappy about that – to be honest, it will be a relief to definitively put a cap on my touring days, and all my delusions. One cannot live on fantasy alone. Even Peter Pan had to grow up, and it all happened off-stage. Still, this boy’s got a few more flights left in him, and while I’m in Chicago this weekend, I invite you to soar in other ways.
First, however, a quick look back at the first eight parts of this final chapter, because they’re each pretty and beautiful and gorgeous in their own way, and the world needs more of that sort of thing now.
On the cover of her classic ‘Like A Prayer’ album, Madonna wore a pair of denim jeans and a rope of beads. I searched for a comparable set for years – decades actually – before I simply made my own. They came out decently enough, even if they are a bit fragile. It adds an element of carefulness that I must abide if I want to wear them. I like that.
Most of us need a reminder to be more careful at times. The human mind is a sensitive receptor, and I tend to forget that. Everyone around me seems to forget that too, and I pretend it doesn’t bother me.
“The sensitivity of men to small matters, and their indifference to great ones, indicates a strange inversion.” ~ Blaise Pascal
It’s not a big secret that showing some skin gets a lot more notice than not showing skin. That’s basically what has fueled this website for the past decade and a half. When people kept telling me to put my shirt on in my Twitter profile, I scoffed at their insistence and laughed at their tens of followers. There’s a method to my naked madness. Besides, I like to transform from time to time, taking cues like a chameleon, donning different guises that include more than skin.
When I was ready to change things up, people were still telling me, in ways far from polite, to put some clothes on, so I kept the shirtless pose up simply on principle (and my own admittedly annoying stubbornness). It was more fun to ask them why they kept looking than to kow-tow to foolish supposed propriety. And again, traffic. Hits. Followers. Skin is always in. Yet I was getting bored with it, and as soon as the complaints stopped, I did it on my own. (Oddly enough, I quickly gained a couple hundred followers once I lost the nipple. Go figure.)
PS – I may have my shirt and jacket on, and even a pair of socks, but rest assured I was NOT wearing pants.
Since when does an old-fashioned butter-churning escapade turn into something too titillating (read: too gay) for Comcast to air it during RuPaul’s Freaking Drag Race? Since now, apparently, as the commercial below was just banned by Comcast in an effort to solidify its evil reputation. Oh well, you know the Boy butter company is only going to get even more publicity from this, so lucky them. I’m more interested in promoting anything that Seth Fornea features so prominently in. (I mean, hello. And hello. And, umm, hi there.)
And to think, the only butter-churning experience I’ve had likely involved some play-acting in Old Sturbridge Village by a woman who would probably give Skip Montross douche-chills. (Buy us a cocktail one day and he’ll tell you all about it.)
When the days refuse to yield anything spring-like, when the skies refuse to give up any glimpse of blue, and when the sun refuses to come out of its hiding place, I turn inward. I keep the days quiet, padding softly through them so as not to startle or disturb the sleeping sun. I’ve long known that threats or demands won’t work on such a giant. Why should the sun do our bidding?
A look back, then, at this favorite photo taken from my favorite place ~ Ogunquit, Maine. I find myself seeking this one out, taken as it was at the end of May many years ago, when the summer spread out before us, and the sun was not quite so timid. We will get there, I’m sure we will. For now, though, it exists in the mind, and in this photo.
If you thought these almost-naked photos of Nyle DiMarco were sexy, feast your eyes on what is coming up below. Wet and wild shower shots certainly flatter Mr. DiMarco, as does a simple white towel (though many would argue the latter is superfluous at best, bothersome at worst). For DiMarco’s debut as Hunk of the Day, it was all about shirtlessness and body oil, and no one was complaining. For another post, it was all about his underwear. Tonight, it’s about wet nudity.
As a bit of a peace-offering for those who wanted so badly to see a full-frontal Zac Efron, here’s a shirtless post with a killer GIF. It may not be Zac Efron’s full-frontal nudity shot, but it’s better than no Zac Efron at all. I believe Mr. Efron took these while visiting Dubai. Clearly he takes his cue from the ‘Sex & the City‘ sequel, or maybe he’s just emulating the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I’m equally keen on each.
The antiquated device pictured here is not even one of the older versions (you can see that it has push-button technology despite its vintage design). This was how phones looked when I was growing up – they came attached to cords that attached to outlets. It has come to my attention that a millennial or two may have wandered into these parts and have no idea how we used to live on land-lines. This was it, kids. One phone number per household. If you were fancy you might have a three-way-call option (which we did for a brief time). But when I was a child there was no such fanciness. There wasn’t even call waiting. I don’t think kids today know what a busy signal is. They have no idea how less-annoying their existence is.
Anyway, that’s all I got for a Hump Day morning post. Send nudes if you want to be Hunk of the Day. Write a Special Guest Blog if you want to be a featured guest. Do something to join in the fun. Life’s a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.
I’m indulging in both this coming weekend, as I make my way to Chicago to hang with my pal Chris as The Delusional Grandeur Tour touches down in the Windy City. It’s been years since I’ve entered that fair city – the last time I was there I was moving home after a disastrous few months of living with a boyfriend who broke up with me shortly after I moved halfway across the country to be with him. Lesson learned, and though Chicago had nothing to do with the break-up, it didn’t exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings attached to it. Despite that, I never harbored any ill-will for the place, and in fact I’d been meaning to return long ago. it just so happened that now is the moment.
I’ve booked a room at the Kimpton Palomar, right in downtown Chi-town, and I can’t wait to see how Kimpton hosts in that fine city. If their properties in New York, Washington, Seattle and San Francisco are any indication, I’ll be in good hands. Sable, the on-premises restaurant, sounds all sorts of promising too. Another adventure is about to begin…
To make up for this morning’s relatively scathing indictment of Madonna’s ‘I’m So Stupid’, I’m looking back at the date and recalling a happier Madonna moment – the release of ‘4 Minutes’ with Justin Timberlake. It came out at this time of the year, when the number ‘4’ was all the rage – for the month as well as today’s date. It signaled another musical make-over for Madonna, who found herself influenced by the then-ubiquitous work of Timbaland and Timberlake, and though some found her just behind the trend, it was actually a fun fit. But I’m re-writing what has already been covered. Here’s the link in 4…3…2…1.
