Category Archives: General

“Hi!” he said, joining the Customer Service line behind me at Wal-Mart (the same store I had robbed a while back). It was my first time in a return line in well over a decade. I just don’t return things, even if I should. Even if they don’t fit or work. But this time, when a pair of pruning shears shit the bed after three cuts of a hydrangea, I decided to exchange the thing.

“Hi,” I said in my most-unamused tone when I finally realized he was talking to me.

“Been waiting here long?”

I had been. “Yeah, I’ve been here half an hour. Well, maybe 15 minutes, so good luck. I’ve been giving that manager dirty looks hoping she would do something,” I said nodding at the sheepish woman with a barbed-wire wrist tattoo who had been over to help for all of 30 seconds before hiding behind other cashiers and pretending to give important orders in any other part of the store.

“Whoa, that long? Hey, when is a good time to plant a garden?” he asked.

Puzzled, as I didn’t even think he saw the pruning shears in my bag, I asked him what he meant before truly ferreting out his kookiness and realizing I shouldn’t have engaged.

“Like can I start a garden now?”

“Sure.”

“But will the plants survive?”

“You can prepare the bed now and plant later.”

“I guess we can grow pot now too! It’s legal right?”

Now it was starting to make some sense. “Well, I don’t think it’s quite legal yet,” I said warily.

“But they won’t charge you, right?”

“I think if you sell it they will charge you, but if you get caught smoking it they supposedly aren’t doing much,” I said, trying to figure out how to end this inane conversation. He went on about the pot and the garden, and how he had been to Denver where it’s legal and he had a Gummy bear with pot in it only it was 100 milligrams instead of 10 milligrams and he ate the whole thing and ruined his entire vacation because he was lying in bed thinking he was dead.

“That must have been scary,” I said in as dry and dead-pan a manner as I could muster.

“Hey, I got this keyboard here for $53 and then I found it on Amazon for less,” he said, showing me a keyboard in a box.

By the grace of God, it was finally my turn at the customer service counter. I won’t be going back.

Every once in a great while, I’ll dust off a few old photo albums – the actual, physical kind that we once used – and indulge in a brief bout of nostalgic mental meandering, retreading old haunts and revisiting former moments of a glory we never quite realized at the time. The photographs here are from the 1990’s so you’ll have to forgive my goatee – I knew not what I was doing. More moving to me are the expressions of genuine happiness and hope on the faces of people who remain vitally important in my life. We were on the verge of stepping properly into our adult lives. Maybe we thought we knew more than we did; for my part, I always felt like I knew just a little less than these brilliant people I was lucky enough to count as friends. They made me better. They made me strive to be a good person. They still do that.

Back then, the world felt like perpetual summer. It laid before us with verdant avenues and beautifully winding roads, where each path held its pretty mysteries, beckoning us to try this or attempt that. I gingerly stepped with slight trepidation, wading slowly into the pool that so many of my friends were already splashing in, diving deep beneath its sparkling surface and coming up with breathless tales of accomplishment and honor.

Why did life seem so simpler and happier when looking back on then? It certainly didn’t always feel that way at the time, but our smiles and our joyful carefree countenances indicate something else. We were happy then. Life hadn’t rocked us too much, not when you look back at all that was to come afterward. Definitely not when you look at where we are now. Yet we didn’t realize it, at least, I don’t think we did. Not in a deep way. I do remember brief moments when I would stop, literally, in the middle of a Boston sidewalk, when spring was in bloom, and the air was filled with the perfume of flowering fruit trees, and think, ‘This. All of this. Take in all of this – the beauty, the air, the night, and the morning.’ Even though I would invariably return to melancholy and doubt, those moments would harden into a necklace made of memory gemstones, each carved into an exquisitely-multi-faceted jewel that would be lit from within on those dark days to come. Our home is happily littered with such jewelry. It’s not something that can ever be stolen or taken – not by anything other than forgetfulness and time, but all things are obliterated in such fashion eventually.

Looking at these pictures is like rediscovering a treasure trove of those gems – invaluable, immeasurable, inestimable in riches – adorned in beauty, bathed in light, and bound by unbreakable wisps of happiness.

“The warmly cool, clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing, redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped up – flaked up, with rose-water snow. The starred and stately nights seemed haughty dames in jeweled velvets, nursing at home in lonely pride, the memory of their absent conquering Earls, the golden helmeted suns! For sleeping man, ‘twas hard to choose between such winsome days and such seducing nights. But all the witcheries of that unwaning weather did not merely lend new spells and potencies to the outward world. Inward they turned upon the soul, especially when the still mild hours of eve came on; then, memory shot her crystals as the clear ice most forms of noiseless twilights.” – Herman Melville, ‘Moby Dick’

Spring invariably ushers in a new season of social events and get-togethers, and as the weather makes for enjoyable outside gatherings (assuming it eventually will…) I find myself in the act of preparation and planning. My favorite place to be.

The gardens are behind, but nature has a way of catching up. Unfortunately, working humans don’t have such a luxury, so if we don’t get some nice days the yard may not be cleaned up by the time it’s ready to sleep again. Again, it will all get done or it won’t, and some years are just about surviving and maintaining.

My fickle side has me undecided about how to navigate this blog for the summer. I’ve enjoyed taking most of it off for the past two years, but I’ve also hankered for an outlet when the days are rainy or the weekend is worth writing about. Toying with a lighter schedule that doesn’t see me completely offline from June to September may be the way to go. Two posts a day, no matinees? That sounds like a plan, with the caveat that it’s all subject to change by wish or whim. That’s what summer should be. First, though, let’s have a proper spring.

Sometimes we don’t get to choose where our talents lie. ~ Don Draper

When the world rocks you for a bit, when you’re hit with realizations that we are only getting older, it’s good to do a few things. First, try a vacation. We just did that in Savannah (write-up coming when I can find a hot minute). Second, try a meditative movie or series. As odd as it sounds, The whole ‘Lord of the Rings’ series has a very Zen-like quality to it, despite the action and tension and occasionally violent moment. Same thing with the duet of ‘Kill Bill,’ which is even more violent, but just as meditative in my warped mind. Add to that the entire ‘Mad Men’ series, which evokes an era so perfectly one feels transported, and taken out of whatever state of worry or concern that might otherwise dominate. Yet it also feels entirely of-the-moment and modern – the very best sort of entertainment that manages to touch on the timeless and universal. 

I have been watching my life. It’s right there. I keep scratching at it, trying to get into it. I can’t.~ Don Draper

It was a time of innocence, dirtiness, decadence, hope, and despair. The sparkle and decay of the American dream. The cruelty of how we try to relate, connect, and love each other. The image. The veneer. The sheen. The danger of going deeper. 

People tell you who they are, but we ignore it because we want them to be who we want them to be. – Don Draper

A Monday night recap, courtesy of April, leaps up like a frog, all spring eagerness and excitement, coupled with annoyance and impatience. April is messy like that. On with the last week before we get deep into the next one…

It began in fitting spring form, with a pair of ducks crossing a street in downtown Saratoga, as ducks are wont to do. 

It doesn’t get much more epic than Rob Gronkowski sniffing Zac Efron’s Freedom Speedo while The Rock looks on admiringly. 

Gimme an ‘A’!

These #TinyThreads all lead somewhere… right?

The Jonas Brothers went all Cool. 

The beauty of being in the bed.

Chromantics across the sea.

The Madonna Timeline returned with ‘Forbidden Love‘ from the ‘Bedtime Stories’ album.

Shawn Mendes in shirtless motion.

Ladies & gentlemen: the Grasshopper.  

Hunks of the Day included Jacob Whitesides, Julian Jiamachello, Charles-Laurent, Gethin Jones, Kris Kelly, and Gavin Creel. 

“The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more.

For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.” ~ Herman Melville, ‘Moby Dick’

It’s best to sleep in a cool room. There’s an old adage that claims benefits and health to the practice of sleeping in cooler temperatures, and I’m all about it. As Melville so perfectly renders it, the contrast between a cozy bed and a chilly interior is what enables us to enjoy the comfort of the thing. It also makes getting up on a winter morning the stuff of trolls and devils. Some of us weren’t made for such hardships.

Personally, I’ve always preferred being on the cool side. It is much easier to warm up than to cool down. A sweater, a blanket, a cape, a turban – the options for gathering heat are many, and fabulous. When you’re trying to cool down, there is just so much nakedness you can achieve before the public calls the police. (I won’t even mention the difficulty of stripping down in an office setting, well, beyond this anyway.) The point is, it’s easier to add than take away. Think of it like using spices, and turn down your thermostat at night. Saves energy too.

The return of the Jonas Brothers continues with their latest single ‘Cool’ dropping any minute now. I enjoyed the video and song for their recent ‘Sucker’ but beyond these parts I’m not sure how much of an impact it had. They’ve definitely upped their imagery of late, even if their shirtless exploits will always be preferable to just about anything else. (Except maybe full-frontal male nudity…) Anyway, check out ‘Cool’ when it becomes available – I will too. 

Bulge note: much ado is being made over the crotch area of the Nick Jonas photo seen below. Everybody wants to see VPL, especially on Nick Jonas apparently. It’s here for purely academic purposes. 

Sometimes you happen to be in the right place at the right time to see something whimsical, adorable, and perfect for spring. That place happened to be Saratoga as two ducks made their way along a crosswalk and the traffic waited for them to pass. I don’t usually bother to whip my phone camera out to capture such sights, but I did this time, just as they made their way safely across the street. It was a happy ending, as we later passed them again dawdling near a building. 

Who knew that Saratoga was so ducky? I thought horses were their thing…

I find it hard to believe that people are still falling for the full frontal jokes of this day, but silliness can be contagious, and I’ve been afflicted. On with the recap of the last week, in which Mercury finally slid out of retrograde and hopefully restored some order into life. 

It began with a blue spruce in a blue sky. 

These threads are not golden, but still worth a look. 

Spring + Ice = Sprice. 

The Beekman Boys introduced me to HSN.

Pietro Boselli’s butt.

The Madonna/Warren Beatty duet from ‘I’m Breathless’ and the summer of ‘Dick Tracy’.

This bird was the word. 

Chris Evans: shirtless American superhero. 

I need it, I want it, if you get it I will flaunt it. 

Isn’t it Chromantic?

Hunks of the Day included Peter Hermann, Mike Trout, Evan Antin, Jonathan Knight, Michael Berresse, and Ben Hunte.

Some television theme songs are infinitely better than the show they actually introduce. ‘Falcon Crest’ was always that way with me. Part of it was that it was on after our bedtime, so this was all we could usually get away with watching before being forced upstairs. But even in later years, when I could stay up to watch, the opening theme was always better than whatever followed. Even with Jane Wyman. 

On this Friday, here’s a little memory for those who share my love of opening themes. 

Only the Beekman Boys could get me to tune into the Home Shopping Network and then actually purchase something. Their products are so good, and their explanations and knowledge so convincing that the goat milk soap and lotion they were peddling were too good to pass up, especially at the special prices.

I’ve long been a Beekman 1802 fan, and even at full price their goods are more than worth it. Quality and customer care shouldn’t come cheap, and supporting a local upstate New York farm comes with its own sense of doing something better for the community. The use of natural ingredients (in this case goat’s milk) is something else to feel good about – not only for its environmental health, but also for its soothing properties and scientifically sound explanation on why it’s so much better for the skin. (They made a compelling word picture of describing how oil and petroleum simply sit on top of water while something like milk mixes with it – a powerful testament to how most soaps and lotions stay on top instead of absorbing and hydrating the skin. Listen to them tell it, it’s much more entertaining.)

I wanted to try just about everything, and much was selling out, but I disciplined myself to one blind-buy: the Fig Leaf Whipped Body Cream – better known as the Voluptuous Fig. Whether it was Brent’s seductive way of rolling off the name, the luscious description of the cream itself, or the way it thickly clung to Josh’s fingers clearly depicting its substance, I was sold. It helped that I loved all things fig too.

For the remainder of items, I’m planning on making the short pilgrimage to their brick and mortar store in Sharon Springs – just a hop, skip and jump away from Albany – in order to try out the other scents and products. It’s been a few years since we last visited and we are overdue for such beauty.

The new thing is making words up, or so I’m telling people, and I’m all about the new thing. Today that word is ‘sprice’ – which in its original long-winded form translates as ‘spring ice’ – something we had the misfortune of finding in our backyard thanks to a wayward sprinkler system. A small spray of water coated and transformed a lace-cap hydrangea during a windy and cold day this past weekend, hopefully not killing it in the process. In the sunlight and against the blue sky, it made for a beautiful, if slightly disturbing, scene.

These early days of spring are so iffy, like the season is not quite ready to arrive or reveal itself. Winter’s tail-whip can lash back worse than that demon did in ‘Lord of the Rings’ – you shall not pass and all that jazz. We won’t make it out of the winter wilderness for certain until May.

That won’t stop us from dreaming.

Ice, ice baby, indeed.

Just when you think the world has gone all brown and gray, something like this pops in at the tail-end of a lunch-time walk, and everything is exciting again. A blue spruce illuminated by the afternoon soon, framed by an expanse of blue sky. There’s a clarity at this time of the year that you can’t usually find in summer or later spring. It echoes the crisp, clear atmosphere of fall, which makes sense.

For some reason I’ve always been resistant to embracing evergreens. Something in me wanted more dramatic transformation during the year – the shedding of a wardrobe and the regrowth of a new one each season. Evergreens go through their own growth spurts, usually of a brighter green and softer texture – that tender spring time when things haven’t been hardened off yet, when a killing frost might just do that if one decided to linger.

Not so for the branch in this photo. It’s been put through the winter ringer and paid its dues. A grizzled and fortified collection of pin-prick-like arrows, protecting any pinecone carriage and fending off any wayward predators unlikely to attack from the sidewalk below or sky above. I admire such resilience and strength, particularly in the face of our winters. I also admire such simple beauty. Nature knows exactly what she’s doing.

We shall see whether the month exits like a lamb or retains its lion-like properties. Personally, I love a lion. Weather-wise, however, we are ready for something gentler. If it’s a quiet lion, soft and demure, then it is welcome. Otherwise, cue the lambily’s entrance. Or exit. Whatever. On with this recap as sponsored by Mercury in retrograde…

Follow these little threads back to their beginning.

Adam Levine celebrated his birthday in his birthday suit. 

Is this what God sounds like?

Spring on the ascent. 

Madonna’s ‘Like A Prayer’ album turned 30 years old. 

Crotch-shot homage. 

The magic of Savannah approaches. 

Spring cleaning and daydreaming. 

The things I regret… and the things I don’t. 

You better let somebody love you before it’s too late. 

Rob Gronkowski: the naked retiree. 

Hunks of the Day included Michael Campayno, Jack Savoretti, Duncan Keith, and Brian Jordan Alvarez.

Last week we had the first day of spring, a full moon, and Mercury was still in retrograde (a sorry state that continues through the first half of this week). How we made it through that mess is something I’ll never understand (assuming we did in fact make it through – at the time of this writing we are still in it). 

The last thing the internet is needs is another crappy, poorly-shot moon photo, but too fucking bad. You’re getting two. I love when the moon hangs low, and when it wobbles to and fro. Perched in a tree, or slung over the sea, it’s a thing of beauty, even if it inspires lunacy. Among the lunatics, there is a certain thread of truth running through the loopy. I dwell in the realm of such lunacy, and the land of strange truth. The moon brings it all out.

Good luck to all of us swayed by its pull and transfixed by its spell.