Category Archives: General

The coupon flyer arrived like clockwork, and since not many coupons for 25% off the entire order arrive regularly, I bit, even though the hours were limited to 7 AM to 1 PM. I was going to try the day after Black Friday to score some deals at JoAnn’s Fabrics. After over a decade and a half of shopping experiences there, I can honestly and accurately claim that the JoAnn’s Fabric Store in Colonie is the most mis-managed retail operation in existence. I know retail. I worked retail for a number of years. They suck. And I speak from countless visits where the line snaked around the store, two inept people were on the register, and ten workers paraded around the store doing absolutely nothing. 

But whatever, they are such a big company they don’t give a damn about quality service, so I long ago gave up on complaining or changing anything. That’s the mindset you need to have going into that store, unless you want to get really pissed off and angry. I didn’t and I don’t. I arrived, glanced over at the registers and saw one person there, while another worker stood at the door holding a big green balloon and doing nothing else. Completely pointless and a total waste of resources. Totally JoAnn’s Fabric. Like, spot-on brand work. Happily, I wasn’t in a rush. It was 7:15 AM on Saturday, and I had nowhere to be or go. I ran into about eight more workers on the floor. A line was already forming in the fabric section. Thank God I didn’t need any fabric. 

I took my time perusing the doorbusters and stuff, seeking out garland for the upcoming Boston Children’s Holiday Hour. I found some, along with some gifts for my niece and nephew, and made my way leisurely to the register. I passed a harried-looking woman who had stopped right before the register section Walking past her, I sensed she was pissed – but hey, don’t stop and bend down to look further and expect me to wait for your ass. Sorry. 

Two workers on the registers, and two women in line behind the two already at the counter. 

“I’m in line!” the first one shrieked to no one in particular. “I was with her,” she said pointing to someone already checking out, “But we’re separate so I’m next!”

Like I gave a shit. 

The woman behind me wasn’t having it. “Great, just two days into the shopping season and already an a-hole. I can’t stand this,” she muttered. 

The woman in front of me had a cart full of stuff. “They never have enough registers open,” she said. The woman behind me then launched into a tirade about how the fabric section had a line and no one could get a simple cut of ribbon she needed for an event that morning. I stood between the two of them nodding. It’s JoAnn’s. It always sucks. 

The woman in front of me finally had her turn. It took forever. The lady behind me explained she thought she could just rush in and get the ribbon she needed for her event and this was entirely ridiculous and JoAnn’s just didn’t know how to do anything, and I absolutely agreed. My arms were starting to get tired from holding all the garland and kids’ gifts. Still, I was in no rush, and this woman obviously was. Five minutes later, when a register finally opened (the lady holding the green balloon saw that we were waiting forever and put the balloon down to take a register) I told her to go first. She initially said no, but I insisted and she thanked me. I told her I had nowhere to go and wasn’t in a rush. (Plus, truth be told, I didn’t trust someone whose sole task had been holding a balloon at the door to check me out.)

All in a day at the Colonie JoAnn’s Fabric Store. 

PS – The garland was way overpriced, even with the sale. 

For the most part, I abhor a meme. 

This is one of the exceptions. 

Because I love Pooh.

And the sentiment.

We are in it now.

The 2018 Holiday Season.

Feel the stress! Feel the pressure! Feel the power!

We just had a full moon, and Mercury continues in its disruptive retrograde pattern, so God help us all. 

I’m going in with low expectations in the hope that I will be happily surprised with how well things go. The older I get, the less prone to perfectionism I find myself, which makes everyone around me much happier. On to the week that came before…

Naked male momentum.

Fine fitness by Roger Frampton.

Albany made beautiful. 

The work of a Pervert. 

A day of extra-special thanks.

Turkey-lurkey, goosey-loosey.

Finally got to see ‘Come From Away’ on Broadway. 

A weekend in NYC with Mom, Dad and Andy. 

How to get through the holidays: press pause. 

All soup, no nuts. 

The Tailspin Cocktail – a new holiday favorite. 

These #TinyThreads made for fun interludes. 

With Thanksgiving done, we are truly in it: the holiday season proper. That means it is more important than ever to carve out spaces of peace and calm because no matter how well-organized your Virgo ass may be, there will be times of chaos and disorder that are going cry out for a breakdown of mid-life crisis proportion (yes, I’m that age). In years of doing this, however, preparing for those moments and being aware that they will pass is the best way to deal with them. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can prevent them entirely. It is possible to have an entirely peaceful season if you know how to roll with the punches. It’s the notion of expecting things to be perfect that gets one hung up more than anything else. This is not the season for perfectionists. Let go and let God. Jesus take the wheel.

I’ve already had a practice run-through. It was the day before we were supposed to leave for New York last week. The night of the snowstorm that crippled NYC and freaked everyone out. I was worried about my parents driving from Amsterdam, I was worried about us getting to the train, I was worried about the train being delayed and missing dinner reservations, I was worried about how we would get my parents and Andy from the train station to the hotel… and I locked myself in the bathroom and had a quick little heart-to-heart with myself. Whatever was going to happen would happen, and there was nothing I could do to stop or slow the snow. I had absolutely no control over any of it. If the roads were impassable, there was no way to hurry safety along. If the train was delayed, there was no way to lift it onto another track. I gave it up to destiny then, or the stars, or God, or whatever you want to believe in. I took a few deep breaths. I had control over that. I slowly calmed my heart. I could do that too. I dimmed the lights and turned on some meditation music. I lit a candle and drew a hot shower, giving the steam time to fill the glass stall. Focusing on my breathing, I shut out the world and the worry, taking each step as it came. The soap, the shampoo, the body wash… the softness of the towel, the freshness of the skin, the warmth of the robe. The simple ritual of a shower before bed.

Find your moments of respite wherever and whenever you can, then make room for them. All that worry, eased and erased by a little shower. The next morning we made a careful drive to the train station, where we departed pretty much on time and enjoyed a lovely weekend.

Thus the gateway to Christmas has been opened and there is no going back. Here’s the annual post of this holiday chestnut, which always inspires me to add some ‘Mad Men’ garb to my office wardrobe for the next few days. (Just don’t ask me to do the dance because I will.)

Here are a few outtakes from the PVRTD project. As you may have noticed, the “drab and dreary” theme has infiltrated the entire look of ALANILAGAN.com, but that’s about to change for the holiday season. By the end of the month I will update all the darkness that surrounds us now, and PVRTD will be relegated to The Projects page. Until then, I invite you to soak it all in. Peruse the project itself from beginning to end – there is a loose arc to it, and despite its somber subject matter, there is something soothing about going through the photos.

There is, hopefully, some stimulation too. With its soft focus and blurry edges, I wanted to convey movement and restlessness, along with a certain tension. Most of my work tends to be much more concise and posed; breaking free from those constricts created an interesting juxtaposition with the oppressive nature of some of the scenes. Such duality often ends up in more compelling images.

Anyway, I’m offering more of an explanation than a decent artist should put forth, but I’ve never purported to be anything close to a decent artist so I guess it’s all right. Check out PVRTD when you get a chance.

PS – It also feels like the world is doing its part to highlight the relevance of this work; the other day a person stood up at an intermission and screamed, “Heil Hitler! Heil Trump!” at a production of, wait for it, ‘Fiddler on the Roof.’ Some patrons fled, fearing it was the start of a shooting. The madness is here. The madness is us.

Whenever I need to smile, I think of this exchange I had with my friend Kira on one of our Boston weekends:

Kira:“What do you call those people who crash weddings?”

Me:“Wedding crashers?”

Kira:“Yes, that’s it.”

Yeah, that’s right, Thanksgiving is at hand.

That’s gonna leave a mark.

It’s too soon.

Why is no one reeeeeeeeeady?

Clearly, some pre-holiday insanity has infiltrated my brain-drain.

Let’s just look back at the last week and see if we can figure out what the hell happened.

My first project in five years, PVRTD, premiered online. Check out The Projects for the latest addition.

A quieter Christmas wish list. 

The insomniac’s lament.

A fall fragrance by Jo Malone. 

New New York.

Ben Cohen, Simon Dunn & other foxy gents by Snooty Fox Images. 

A Boston reunion with an old friend brings the beautiful hints of holidays to come. 

A fall party at the Cape.

These #TinyThreads will build a tapestry. 

Hunks of the Day included Charles Venn, Jesse Palmer, Morgan Cipres, Staniel Ferreira, Josh Moore and Doug Armstrong.

Kira and I woke to the rain on Saturday morning. (Until we can afford a proper renovation, we are dealing with our condo plumbing issues as they arise.) Those problems aside, we lounged around the condo while the rain fell for most of the morning, idly sipping on tea and cleaning the remaining plates and glasses from the night before. The winter/holiday bedding was back on the bed, along with its dark red velvet accent pillows and sumptuous plush Korean blanket.

As if on cue for our trip to the Cape, the clouds suddenly lifted, the sky appeared, and bits of sun were suddenly scattered about. We gathered our bags together and hit the busy road to Cape Cod. Who on earth is going that way in November? Apparently a ton of people, as the traffic was horrendous, but eventually we made our way over the bridge and into Monument Beach.

JoAnn has always known how to throw a party, bringing people together when they need it the most. The Cape Crew trickled in throughout the day, Wally’s Dickens-Cider was bubbling on the stove, and a roaring fire was the central place where people sought relief from the wind. We huddled around it as Peaches stoked the flames and I was grateful to be around that group of friends again. We’ve all seen a lot in the last twenty years, but somehow we always make it back to the fall party.

When in the thrall of a creative project – be it a written piece, a photographic compilation, or something as simple as planning the next season of the garden – I find it easier to sleep. When I’ve just finished something, or have no creative outlet open, I tend to move into restless and fitful insomnia. In the past, I’ve simply gotten up and done something – read a book, watched a movie, whisked scrambled eggs – but lately I’ve simply laid there in bed, tossing and turning, forcing my eyes to stay shut and hoping for sleep to come. It does – it always does eventually – but then it’s time to get up a couple of hours later, and I’m completely unrested for the work day. Such is the conundrum as I stand on the back-end of the PVRTD Project release.

Part of it is the excitement of anticipation, which is usually my favorite state of fevered enchantment, as much as it messes with my sleeping pattern. Part of it is happy relief, and instead of relaxing into a night of sleep, I’d rather stay up and enjoy the giddy sense of completion for as long as possible. On the same token, part of it may be post-project depression, when the work and effort of a number of months are done and there is suddenly down-time.

There are a few cures for this, however, and I’m about to employ them. The first is simple yet grand: finding a new project to begin. The second is also easy: diving into writing and creating content for this blog. (Lucky reader!) The third is more abstract and difficult: taking my mind off the whole thing. The moment I begin to dwell on it, the worse it gets. Clearly this post I indicative of the fact that I’m not yet there. Instead, I’ll work on the first two. It’s only a matter of time.

When we were kids, my brother and I would go through the Sears (and, later, JC Penney) catalogs and mark all the items we wanted for Christmas. These were exaggerated wish lists, with each of us asking for more than the other in a competitive hedging of bets in case there really was a Santa Claus (kids, there is, and stop reading now). It was more the fun of the activity, and the small sliver of hope that some bit of magic might make it to the North Pole that kept us doing this, and there was something in the anticipation that made it fun for me. I’d sit in the plaid chair of the family room by the lamp, earmark each precious page that held any sort of treasure, and examine the colorful photos looking for anything interesting and reasonable.

This year will mark the first that I’m not publicly posting my Christmas Wish List. (I still have my Amazon Wish List up for public viewing.) The reason being that most of you don’t get me anything, and it’s easier to just give the list to Andy and my Mom and call it a day. Besides, Christmas is not about getting or requesting gifts – it’s about remembering those pre-holiday nights in our family room with my Mom and Dad and brother milling about, and dreaming safely of items I never needed because I was perfectly content right where we were.

“Any deviation is looked upon as a perversion, is feared, and is usually a target of hatred and prejudice.” ~ Joey Skaggs

The PVRTD Project has premiered online, and early reactions have ranged from one of my closest friends citing it as my best work, to another summing it up as “dark dingy and depressing.” By far my favorite response up to this point has been the following, which perfectly sums up the whole experience: “Jesus on a biscuit, I need a drink after that.” See what you think on The Projects page.

How we are approaching the middle of November is beyond me. (And if that freaks you out, Thanksgiving is NEXT WEEK!) Holy fucking turkey, I need to get the yams before they’re all gone. And we need to have a viewing of ‘Home For The Holidays’ already. Sigh… time is not going by so slowly… would that it were. To slow you down further, and buy me some more time for the next post, here’s a collection of what we did this past week.

The last installment of the vainglorious PVRTD Promo interview was posted. (But if you missed any of the promotional hoopla, check out this helpful link-filled post.)

It’s not the Spice Girls without Posh (and David Beckham’s bulge). 

Madonna went bananas. 

Chicken curry in a hurry. 

A cactus by any other name. 

Fall in all its glory. 

A smudging returns a house to a home. 

#TinyThreads

Hunks of the Day included Nick Merico, Zachary Zane and Mikhail Kolyada.

“They had no conception that sex had anything to do with emotional feelings and the desire for human contact – even among homosexuals. All that they cared about was a little bit of pleasure for themselves.” – Heinz Heger

We are but days away from the online premiere of PVRTD – my new project – and in case you missed out on the promotional previews that have really nothing to do with the project itself, here’s a post to catch you up. Lingerie and naked skin make for a typical trapping of click-bait, and if that brings someone new into our eclectic circle of friends, then so much the better. We always have room for more.

I also wanted to showcase the dichotomy of how we live today. You cannot – at least, I cannot – turn a blind eye to the world as it is, and the way we want to live. No one wants to live out a life of fantasy more than me; it’s simply no longer possible.

~ A Perverted Beginning

~ The PVRTD Tease 1

~ The PVRTD Tease 2

~ The Promo Blitz

~ A Hint of the Perverted

~ Perverse Thrills

~ The Act of Creation

~ The Decadence Before the Perversion

“Jews, homosexuals, and Gypsies, the yellow, pink and brown triangles, were the prisoners who suffered most frequently and most severely from the tortures and blows of the SS and the Capos. They were described as the scum of humanity, who had no right to live on German soil and should be exterminated… but the lowest of the low in this “scum” were we, the men with the pink triangle.” – Heinz Heger

How to reconcile the way we live, with the way we once lived, with the way they live, and the way they used to live… How to make sense of our happiness and comfort in a world of such pain and sorrow and injustice?

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 1

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 2

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 3

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 4

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 5

~ The PVRTD Promo Interview Part 6

“All of them, before their imprisonment in concentration camps, had been decent people in private life, many indeed highly respected citizens, who had never come up against the law, but were set apart only by their homosexual feelings. Al of these otherwise decent people had been assembled here, in this melting pot of disgrace and torment, for extermination through back-breaking labor, hunger, and torture. None of them were child molesters or had had sex with children or adolescents, as all of these had a green triangle. Were we with our pink triangle really outrageous criminals and “degenerates”, a menace to society?”
~ Heinz Heger

The wind was peripatetic that day (see Meryl Streep in ‘Doubt’), flitting this way and that with large gusts that would press the imperious fountain grass close to the ground while ripping the staunchest oak leaves from their tenacious grip. It pushed against windows and doors, shaking the whole house and making me glad to be on the inside looking out. Before hunkering down for the long wait of winter, however, I needed to do one thing: smudge the house.

I opened up various windows and doors and started in the attic. Lighting a stick of sage and lavender, I filled the first corner with the cleansing smoke of ages, and relaxed a bit. The bad spirits were swept instantly away, and I waved the burning wand in gentle swirls, making sure the smoke went into every hiding space. Working my way downstairs, closing windows and doors behind me when the cleansing of each space was complete, I filled the house with the pungent aroma of burnt sage and smoky lavender. A purification and a benediction. The christening of a new couch and the start of Daylight Savings season.

When I was done, and the last of the negative energy had been driven out of the house, I walked outside to snub the smudge into its mother-of-pearl shell. I inhaled the wind as it rushed by and gave quick thanks for all that we had. Our house was again a home.