A Favorite Thing

This weekend marks the Holiday Stroll 2015, whereby my friend Kira and I make the Boston shopping rounds in celebration of the season. I’ve plotted out an itinerary and map of the route we’ll be taking, and I’ve selected a couple of movies we may watch at the end of our journey. (Hey, I’m a Virgo. I enjoy a carefully-thought-out plan. And there’s tons of wiggle room for last-minute changes.) We’ve made this trek for a few years now, and it’s a tradition that has quickly become my favorite.

We’ll do some shopping for our friends and family, but mostly the weekend is about spending holiday time with a good friend. It begins in the South End, traverses Copley, meanders through Beacon Hill, stops in Chinatown for lunch, crawls through the crowds of Downtown Crossing and Quincy Market, then heads into the seaport area for the first time. It’s a good spell of walking, but it’s a labor of love.

I’m also planning on making the condo a bit of a holiday haven. To that end, and for an upcoming holiday hour with some children, I’ll be decorating the space for the first time since 1999. Back then I was living there full-time, and we had a holiday party for which I decked those tiny halls. This year, I’m hoping to add some coziness and charm to the atmosphere of our stroll, to make it a little more special in honor of a belated birthday celebration for Kira, and our little tradition.

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Turkey Lurkey Time

It’s almost time… and even though this may be more apropos for Christmas, you’re getting it today. Cause, you know, Turkey.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

It’s not something I put up here often, but in my daily life I give thanks quite a bit, and I am very much aware of how lucky I am. Gratitude has been ever-present in my life, and when you live as charmed a life as I do, that’s how it should be. This particular post is my small way of showing how grateful I am for my online family (I’ll be with my real family all day).

Thanks to everyone who visits this site, even if it’s just to see the Hunk of the Day or what silliness I may have slapped on my back this week. Whatever your reason for taking a moment to stop by, thank you. Now go and give thanks to someone else who needs to hear it. We’ll rendezvous later with tales of holiday fun…

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Hush-A-Bye Wink-A-Bye Doo: Holiday Memories

 Red is the color of Santa’s sleigh,

Green are the pine trees along the way,

Gold is the sunshine on Christmas Day…

Hush-a-bye, wink-a-bye, doo…

Thus began a Christmas song at what was my first or second grade concert at McNulty School. I had been nabbed to sing the opening solo line due to my stellar coloratura (to be fair, I think it was my shiny bangs that won me the hardly-coveted role, but whatever). At that moment in time, I wasn’t afraid of audiences or watchful eyes, so when we performed it to a gymnasium filled with grades 1-6, I sang my little heart out. There was no shame in my game yet, and the world had not yet enforced any on me. It was probably the last time I’d feel such wonderful freedom.

I forget who was tapped to sing the second pine trees verse (I’m pretty sure it was Lynn or Laura) but I distinctly remember that the sunshine line went rather ill-fittingly to a girl named Crystal, who had a perpetual snarl on her scowling face, and who was never very nice to me. Sunshine my ass. For Christmas, however, I did my best to suspend such evil thoughts, trying hard to put myself in Crystal’s shoes and seeking out some silver lining in her otherwise-awful countenance. Whenever I think ill of someone, I try to picture them at their happiest, with a grand smile betraying some hidden joy they find in the world, and it’s a little more difficult to think badly of them. A little. When she sang her sunshine line, wearing a skirt that was two sizes too big for her, I realized that she probably didn’t have as lucky a life as I did, and I started taking her snarl and her coldness not as a personal affront, but as the way she had to deal with an unfair world. It was the closest I could get to humane holiday behavior, and as we stood up before the entire school, I wanted to protect her – and to protect us – as a united front.

Those holiday concerts were the last time I felt comfortable in front of an audience. I had already started to “act” stereotypically gay (a lisp – cured by the application of peanut butter to the roof of my mouth by the linguistic teacher – didn’t help) and my over-the-top theatrics during these holiday shows must have been met with cringes by more than a few parents. I didn’t notice then, but I would see it soon enough.

On that day, I was just singing, ‘Red is the color of Santa’s sleigh’ and holding up a little wooden sled painted in red. I was trying to make my peace with a crabby girl named Crystal. Most of all, I was looking forward to the coziness and warmth that Christmas always brought.

This year’s holiday season is just getting underway, and I’m already feeling the excitement. No more Scrooge theatrics – I’m going to enjoy it from start to finish.

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Holiday Wish List 2015

In this period of relative ennui with worldly possessions, there’s not much that I’ve been hankering for of late, which makes a Christmas wish list, as requested by family, a bit of a dilemma. Not that I’ve ever been that hard-pressed to come up with things that I want. With that in mind, and for the ease of those wonderful people who are good enough to grant me gifts, here are a few items I wouldn’t kick out of bed.

I remain enraptured by the elusive  Jeremy Scott Adidas Wings 3.0 “Gold”, Size 10. This is one that would require an extensive eBay search, and since I’ve been asking for it for over a year it looks unlikely to happen now, but it will remain on the top of my list until it becomes available. (These are not to be mistaken for similar wing-tips that Mr. Scott has produced – these are the ADIDAS JEREMY SCOTT WINGS 3.0 GOLD SNEAKERS.)

Fragrance is always a welcome addition to my accessory roster, and while there is no new Tom Ford Private Blend available right now, there are several by Byredo Parfums that are worth a spritz. First up is the spicy Bal D’Afrique, which carries an incense-like accent that would keep things smoky and warm through the winter.

I also fell in love with Perfume 11 by BLK DNM the last time I was in New York. It’s a lighter, fresher scent than those I usually favor at this time of the year, but come January it will be a welcome change. It’s also proving difficult to find online, and may only be available in some New York City stores. (I found it in the gift shop at the Standard High Line.)

{Gift certificates to Barneys or Neiman Marcus would cover additional cologne desires.}

These Alexander McQueen floral loafers  – in Size 43 (US 10) – are dream-shoes that would take me to Oz and back.

Florals are big in my life right now, as evidenced by my infatuation with these floral sweatpants for lounging (and more) by Bonobos. Officially christened ‘Nomad French Terry Sweatpants’, their rose motif is a gorgeous twist for a pair of sweatpants. Size Medium, please.

When the rains come back in the spring, this beautiful blue Brooks Brothers Black Fleece raincoat would be ideal, in size BB1. (It’s on a big sale right now to boot.)

As for more practical concerns, the condo needs a new air conditioner,  a new set of bedding (Queen), and a new pillow or two (20 x 20 or 26 x 26).

{And if all else fails, there’s always Amazon.}

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A Recap on the Verge of Everything

A jam-packed weekend that included the Beaujolais Wine Celebration and an evening of ‘Queen of the Night’ in NYC will, if all goes according to schedule, have come to a close last night, and this post is being programmed while I’m in the midst of a killer cold that knocked me way behind in everything that was going so smoothly. This is how life checks you when you’re doing a little too much. On with the recap of the previous week…

It began, as it usually does, with a Hunk of the Day: Brent Van Sant.

My week-long bout with sickness left a number of silly posts, such as this purely GIF-fueled one and this no-brainer that consisted solely of a new Adele song, When We Were Young. Not to mention this brief snippet of holiday times to come.

Luckily, I often write in advance of posting times, so I got to enjoy the fruits of this labor-of-love post on poet (and future Hunk of the Day) Ben Kline.

David Beckham was named the Sexiest Man Alive for 2015, probably ten years after the fact, but better late than never.

One of the most special Hunks of the Day was re-crowned, and teased with this look at other important HODs.

Zakh Michael was the first Hunk of the Day whose story was big enough to merit two parts.

NYC – what is is about you?

Getting nude in a hotel room.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star concludes its incendiary ‘Rock Star Addict’ section, right before they cart me off to rehab.

More Hunks rounded out the week, including Charles Melton, Canelo Alvarez and Austin Victoria.

And capping off Sunday with a bulge-tastic flourish was this Speedo post.

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Cold Speedo Sunday

The weather outside may be growing frightful, but this blog will hopefully keep things delightful as we serve up a Speedo Sunday post to warm the cockles of your budgie smuggler. Here is Chris Mears, who seems to be stealing some Tom Daley thunder of late, with photos shoots and calendar compilations that rival much of what Mr. Daley has done. It’s the sort of competition that can get fierce. Winner shows it all.

Previous Speedo shots have included this one of Luke Evans in bright blue, Tom Daley in burgundy, and Greg Louganis in black and white.

Also filling out their banana hammocks were James Magnussen, Jack Laugher, Ian Thorpe, and Ryan Lochte.

And for good measure, here is Michael Phelps completely without a Speedo, i.e. totally naked.

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The DG Tour: Rock Star Addict ~ Pt. III

Some stories require a million words to get across the simplest point. Others require the merest wisp of a whispered few to achieve the same breadth and effect. Still others tell their narrative with a single image. The Delusional Grandeur Tour Book, chronicling the Last Stand of a Rock Star, aims to tell its tale through a little of both. In this particular entry, however, the emphasis is decidedly on economy of expression, allowing a few choice photographs, and the slightest prayer, to expound upon a very dark story.

It’s a story that I’ll one day tell in far more chilling detail (perhaps), a story that touches on issues that run deeper than anything I’ve written about here (thus far), and a story that informs the very essence of this final tour (yes, it’s the last).

It’s also a story that can be interpreted in myriad ways, which is why I love this portion of the Tour Book so much. At first glance, it says something, but if you analyze further it says something else. Each version carries its own set of truths, but each has hidden aspects, and realities that are missing even from the most seemingly-blatant photographic evidence. There’s a phrase that people throw around when they want to sound mysterious and intriguing: nothing is what it seems.

I’ve rarely found that to be true. Most things are indeed as they appear, and the simplest and most stress-free way to live is to take those things to be true. Otherwise, we’d be doubtful of anything, suspicious of everything, and wary of the entire world. I wouldn’t ever want to live that way.

Yet sometimes things aren’t what they at first glance appear to be. Sometimes they’re not what they seem to be upon eight or nine glances. There is always room for the individual to change and grow, evolve and improve – and to count anyone out, especially a proven chameleon and exception to the rule, is foolishness that will always be exposed as such.

“And now I find I’ve changed my mind. This is my religion.”

The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star

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Touring Existence

A hotel in New York, the street sounds buffered and muted but always there. A comforting drone, white noise accented by horns and the occasional boom or crash. The messy bed, even when occupied by only one. A luxury when they have to change all the sheets for the next guest anyway. A life made up of hotel nights, a vagabond nomad existence. A world contained in a carry-all.

A tour transforms, much like a hotel, and in the same way it’s very temporary, fleeting. A tour exists on its own, as an entity. Like a hotel, it is a structure. A vehicle for transformation even if the concept itself is stationary, even if the blueprint never changes. It is the background and the atmosphere and the blank canvass for An Experience. The setting and the scenery for What Is About To Happen. The skeleton of The Show. And all the skin and sparkle we hang on it is no more than window-dressing and gauze.

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Hunk of the Day: Charles Melton

Ryan Murphy must have a thing for Hunk of the Day Charles Melton, having given him turns on ‘Glee’ and ‘American Horror Story’ – and from the looks of his portfolio who can blame him. Mr. Melton counts Korean and Cherokee heritage as part of his sultry visage, and he certainly lucked out in the DNA department.

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Next Tour Stop: NYC

Tomorrow, The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star hits its first New York City stop, with my friend Chris as Guest Manager. What he lacks in punctuality he makes up for in spirit, and he is one of the few people who consistently restores my faith in humanity when it’s faltering. This weekend we are spending an evening at ‘Queen of the Night’ (which requires ‘Gala Attire’ – fine for me, but often an issue for others, including the guy who wore the same blue t-shirt for at least two semesters of college). Following that, the night is wide open, and the Tour rolls on with the same piss and pizzazz we’ve employed since the first time we met two decades ago. Chris had long hair then, but the same wide-eyed exuberance for changing the world that he does now. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the kid dressed head-to-toe in silver sequins (well, actually he did – he said I looked like a bug, which I’ll attribute to my wrap-around sunglasses and nothing else). I wasn’t sure what to make of the flannel-wearing, pony-tail dangling, baggy-jeaned visage before me either. I’m pretty sure neither of us foresaw any sort of friendship developing, certainly not one that has so richly informed my life over the years.

That’s the best part of life: those unexpected surprises that deliver the people we most need when we don’t even realize how much we were missing.

Our next adventure is about to begin… New York here we come.

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David Beckham: Sexiest Man Alive

People Magazine has never been the most cutting edge publication – it’s way too mainstream to be that edgy – and their choice of David Beckham as Sexiest Man Alive for 2015 is about as mainstream as they come, save for the fact that Mr. Beckham is 40 years old. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being 40… ahem.) It’s striking, however, as they usually err on the side of youth, so it’s nice to see someone of my generation still making headlines for being sexy and desirable. As for Beckham, this is long overdue.

{For those who admire the man as much as People does, check out this almost-definitive post of his assets and bulges.}

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Holiday Gift Brigade

Yes, I have already started my holiday shopping, and in earnest. I’m not one of those who does it in one fell-swoop, nor do I particularly enjoy spacing it out over ten months either. I’m somewhere in-between, with designated spurts of gift-buying that become events in and of themselves. When you love shopping as much as I do, this is something that should be savored, not dreaded. At this time of the year, it’s also a welcome harbinger of the season, when the notion of the Christmas holiday is still fresh and new (but not October-new; in fact, anything prior to Veteran’s Day should not have anything to do with Christmas).

By now, however, it’s impossible to fight it, and we seem to have moved the celebration up a few weeks. It used to be after Thanksgiving, but no one wants to wait that long, and I’m fine with extending the celebratory good-will a little longer. For me, the real kick-off is the Beaujolais Nouveau Wine Celebration as put on by the Alliance for Positive Health. Since that is happening this Friday, we’re practically there. The anticipation is in the air. The excitement is building. The outfit is ready.

Most importantly, my Holiday Wish List is in the making… and I’ve been a very good boy.

(Until then, my Amazon wish list is still up-to-date… [wink-wink/hint-hint])

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Bravery, Brevity & Bravado: The World of Ben Kline

There’s a lot of bullshit on the internet, and it just keeps accumulating. Wading through all the nastiness and fluff is a Herculean task into which I rarely delve. If it doesn’t happen across my social media feeds (and often when it does) I don’t pay much attention to it. Once in a while, however, someone comes along to get me to sit up and take notice. It happened the other day when Matthew Rettenmund’s ‘Boy Culture’ blog alerted me to the awesomeness that is Ben Kline. I immediately sent him a FaceBook request asking if he’d deign to be a Hunk of the Day, but upon perusing his site and his work, it was clear that Mr. Kline was much more than the average Hunk.

As a poet, writer, and fellow-seeker-of-the-truth through the imagery of Instagram and Tumblr, Kline and his creative output resonate powerfully with me. He takes the acutely personal and transforms it into something universal, which is at the heart of any work of art. Getting at the core of the human experience and exposing the raw emotional circuitry between the heart and the head is a talent only the most courageous choose to cultivate. The exploration of one’s identity in such a public platform takes a big set of balls, as well as a thick skin. It also requires a certain vulnerability that can be frightening to many people.

Perhaps best-known for his poetry, Kline combines the written word with powerful, personal images. I’ve always held that contrary to popular perception, poetry is the most difficult style of writing. The thousands of words that comprise so much prose (and almost everything you read here) are designed to mask the ineptitude of content and style, whereas in a poem of a few lines there is nowhere to hide. Such an economy of words is terrifying terrain for any but the most talented writer.

 

Kline’™s poetry seeks to further the eternal quest for finding meaning in our lives, in the ways we strive to connect with each other and the attempts we make to get closer to the truth. His first collection, ‘Going Fast in Loose Directions‘ is an examination of those moments. His Tumblr website, Original Content Required, offers similar insight and intimate revelations with its of-the-moment observations. Time and distance can provide a safety buffer for intensely-revealing work, but so can the development of a persona slightly separate from the real person behind it all. That sort of dichotomy is befitting a Gemini like Kline.

“I definitely have created a character in my work on Original Content Required,” Kline explains. “Even though I’m clearly the writer of my poems, stories and essays, as well as the “model” in many of the photos, I tag them The Author. Which draws a line, yet allows the line to blur, because I am the author. Just not “The Author.” I like to say, My work is not me, but of me. Readers do not always appreciate that a poem, particularly in first person, is not about me, Ben, but is a character with or without name. Biographical critique has caused two generations of readers to seek too much information/gossip/context about the writer from the work, instead of just taking the work as presented. Throw that into the social media age, where every detail is scrutinized for real or imagined context…it’s almost too much… I don’t mind the two aspects being separate and also blending on occasion.”

There’s a certain fortitude required when you live your life so openly, and then put it all out there for the world to see. Some shy away from that because they’re afraid to face the truth about themselves – the negative, the raw, and the primal underbelly of basic human drives and needs. That’s never been an issue for Kline. “I have no fear of honesty, especially my own about myself,” he says.

He backs that up with some scorching sexual descriptions that once caused a Creative Writing teacher to advise that Kline back off from so much of the sex stuff. Fortunately, that only fueled the fire, and to this day Kline doesn’t shy away from graphic descriptions of sexual acts. The line between art and pornography is one that he simply doesn’t recognize, and such freedom is a welcome defiance of all the banned FaceBook and Instagram photos that get reported. His is a far more progressive take on sex: “I don’t have or encourage a definition of pornography. I suppose I could be basic and say sex on film? Pornography also suggests something obscene and I find nothing obscene about sex. Now that I think about it, I’d like to have that word stricken from our vocabularies.”

As bold as that may be, and as sex-positive as his work is, nothing Kline puts out there is what I would consider offensive or rude. (Those are subjective terms, it’s true, but this is a subjective blog.) In all of his scintillating photographic work, the photos that reveal the most are the ones that hide any blatant explicitness. The hint of a cock is somehow more scandalous than the exposed member itself. In a way, it’s the perfect embodiment of his poetic intent: “I want to portray a feeling, not the actual circumstances.”

To that end, Kline has managed to make the internet more personal and more resonant in the way he touches the common, tender thread of emotional examination. He also reaches out and interacts with his readers. It’s a vehicle to enhance his message, and he’s one of the wise people who focus on the positive aspects of its power while maintaining a realistic notion of its actual effect.

“The internet is fun to me,” he explains. “I’m old enough to remember life before it existed. It will never feel “real” to me the way I see younger people behave in regard to online interactions. I don’t mind the anonymity and people trolling or acting crazy. Just ignore them… But the comment poems and stories, as well as some of my responses to direct reader questions, are just another way I enjoy taking the mundane and making art with it. It’s really that simple. It engages both parties, the audience and the ideas in play. I love it.”

It’s a love that is rabidly returned, judging from the popularity of his poetry and his photography, and Kline is the kind of authentic artist that reveals the best of this wild and crazy internet world. At a time and place where so many of us try to portray ourselves as something other than who we are, his honesty and openness are an inspiration.

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When We Were Young ~ Adele

EVERYBODY LOVES THE THINGS YOU DO, FROM THE WAY YOU TALK TO THE WAY YOU MOVE…

EVERYBODY HERE IS WATCHING YOU CAUSE YOU FEEL LIKE HOME,

YOU’RE LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE

BUT IF BY CHANCE YOU’RE HERE ALONE, CAN I HAVE A MOMENT BEFORE I GO?

CAUSE I’VE BEEN BY MYSELF ALL NIGHT LONG

HOPING YOU’RE SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW…

LET ME PHOTOGRAPH YOU IN THIS LIGHT IN CASE IT IS THE LAST TIME

 THAT WE MIGHT BE EXACTLY LIKE WE WERE BEFORE WE REALIZED

WE WERE SAD OF GETTING OLD

IT MADE US RESTLESS

I’M SO MAD I’M GETTING OLD IT MAKES ME RECKLESS

IT WAS JUST LIKE A MOVIE, IT WAS JUST LIKE A SONG

WHEN WE WERE YOUNG.

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