Category Archives: General

Fortunately, the powers-that-be at the almighty censoring division of FaceBook agreed with me that this photo did NOT rise to the level of nudity and pornography that it needed to be removed. What’s more comical is that someone on FaceBook took the time to report it as pornography, and now has to deal with it not being taken down. I’ve had a photo or two removed in the past, but the majority of photos reported for violating their standards were deemed to be within the guidelines. (Newsflash: I will never engage in nor post pictures of porn, even if I champion the rights of others to do so – it’s just not my thing.)

As for the anonymous coward who reported this semi-innocent pool photo, I want to extend my thanks again for driving traffic to www.ALANILAGAN.com as that’s about all that is accomplished when one of my photos gets reported. It provides fodder for a blog post in which the offending photograph is featured yet again… with links that go to even more offensive matter. Like this. And this. And this. And this. So, thanks much!

Click-cock, click-cock…

Temperatures have soared, everything has burst into bloom, and the spring we so badly wanted and needed has seemingly been supplanted by a summer that has arrived all too soon. Absolutely no complaints here, as the pool has been open and heated to a comfy 85 degrees, and the longer the season the better. Before we jump too far ahead and start putting the pumpkins out, let’s go back but a week…

There was nothing frosty about Hunk of the Day Patrick Frost.

Rihanna stole Madonna’s thunder… for one night only.

A new Mr. Gay World was crowned.

This little piggy went to market.

Sam Smith is a Hunk, nobody how you want to spin it.

Happy Anniversary to us.

David Beckham vs. James Franco in the battle of the shirtless selfie.

 Spring has sprung!

Chris Hemsworth and his big fat fake bulge.

Tally ho.

An evening of jockstraps.

Fearless, when I’m with you.

 Happy Mother’s Day.

Don’t forget that your family is gold.

Warrior princess.

Immersing myself in new project work means less time for blogging. To throw you a bone, here are some out-takes from the new work-in-progress. The art of creation can often feel like a battle. The artist has to slay, so it helps to carry a sword. The artist must sometimes conceal, so it helps to don a mask. The artist must always be fierce, so it helps to wear a cape. The artist must also find time to create, so it helps to have a back-up post like this.

There’s a story to every picture, but it doesn’t always need to be told. The tales attached to these photos likely wouldn’t interest you much, and to be honest most of them are of little interest to me. (Trifles of anecdotes, and more a moment of memory than any substantial dramatic narrative, they are fragments of the in-between.) Rather than fill the viewer in on the mundane trappings of what the surrounding circumstances were for each of these photos, I’m inviting those who so wish to choose their own adventure and make up their own back-story for the images here.

Of course, I’m also lazy as hell this week, after a weekend of working my ass off. At last tally:

-        23 lawn bags filled and dragged to curb

-        14 blog posts written

-        9 patio containers planted

-        7 hanging planters filled

-        6 nursery runs made (to procure said plants and potting materials in tiny Mini Cooper)

-        3 cologne samples tested

-        3 sandwiches (and 1 salad) made for canopy assembly assistants

-        1 canopy assembled (with help from said assistants)

Now I’m distracting you with other thoughts and things which is the anti-thesis of what I was hoping to accomplish with this post. Apologies.

As so often happens with the Northeast, we seem to have gone directly from winter into summer. That worked well for us this weekend, as the pool was opened and heated, and the patio suddenly sprung to summer life with container and hanging plants (and a new canopy assembled with life-saving help from my brother and his girlfriend). Given that spring was so late, I have a lot to do and very little time in which to do it, so the beautiful weather allowed me to work my ass off and get the yard in somewhat presentable shape. Not that any of this behind-the-scenes work had an effect here, as he blog rolled on with its usual decadence and depravity.

It began with a male model brought to the forefront of pop culture by an Instagram shout-out from Madonna – and soon enough Andrea Denver was named Hunk of the Day.

The search for a spring scent was on, and it came down to a heavyweight battle between Diana Vreeland and Tom Ford. (It’s also a bit of perfect timing, as our anniversary is this week ~ 5 years of officially-married life!) At the time of this writing, I thought the edge was going to Tom Ford’s ‘Fleur de Portofino’ but Vreeland’s ‘Smashingly Brilliant’ has its merits. I think, however, the dark horse of Hermes, and an old classic, may steal ahead of the whole pack.

Forget the Scottish kilt, Sam Callahan is better off without a stitch of clothing whatsoever.

Zac Efron got almost-nude, which was good enough for most people. And then he did it again.

A little bit of grace.

Stephen ‘Twitch’ Boss proves that twitching trumps twerking any day.

My new favorite song on an old favorite theme.

Far more than a triple threat, Jerry Mitchell is now also a Hunk of the Day.

Having had a sneak sniff of the new Hermes fragrance, courtesy of my brother’s gal, I’m pulling the latest (and last) from Jean Claude Ellena out of anniversary gift running, as it’s a gorgeous scent more suited for the deep of summer.

Flowers in empty rooms.

The first Saturday of May is World Naked Gardening Day, so I did it.

I wonder if the sexiest math teacher in the world teaches math in these briefs.

Next Sunday you can finally get a glimpse of the Super Jocks show if you’re in the Chicago area.

And the man behind those super jocks, Andy Boyer, has also been named a Hunk of the Day.

In the midst of a wild week, I received a very touching message from a FaceBook friend in Baltimore yesterday afternoon:

“Thanks for your blog and facebook page last night. I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t been keeping up with you (sorry to admit). After 3 hours of watching unbelievable riots, fire, and human injury just outside my door on TV, I turned to you for some lusty pictures, some laughs, and even a little drama. It was a rough night here in Baltimore (and I fear it’s far from over), but thanks for lightening things up for a while. You are appreciated.”

There, suddenly and unexpectedly, was a little bit of grace, from the silly and sometimes-sordid entries conjured on this blog. It moved me in a way that people who have known me for ten years don’t always manage to do. Maybe it was more touching coming from a stranger. Maybe it was the surprise of it. Maybe it was just a human being reaching out to another human while feeling trapped in the middle of an upsetting moment.

Whatever the case, I am grateful. It reminded me to be a little kinder in my everyday life. I need those reminders from time to time, and I will do my best. This blog isn’t going to change anyone’s life, much less the world, but in its own way may it provide amusement, escape, and enjoyment in a world that’s crumbling around us.

Thank you, David, for reminding me that everyone has a voice, and a story, and a way to touch the world.

Before dimming the lights, I light a tobacco-scented candle. The pleasant notes are almost enough to make me reconsider investing in the Tobacco Vanille Private Blend by Tom Ford. Almost. I slide a wordless mix of unobtrusive ambient music into the CD player. The water of the shower beats down, and steam rises on this unseasonably cold evening. It’s Sunday night, and after a week filled with job changes, Cape Cod birthday shenanigans, and my Dad breaking his arm (with a “terrible triad” fracture), I am looking for peace. I suppose in that respect this week is just like any other. Let’s dive back into the Floating World of this website and escape for one more moment before Monday begins again.

A fit and toned Andy Cohen found freedom from his shirt on a recent trip to Miami.

Dit-dit-dit-dit-a-lini.

If things seem to be on auto-pilot here of late, hang on just a little bit longer. There are good things to come.

Male models dominated the Hunk of the Day posts, including Erasmo Viana (pictured), Lucas Bernardini, Chris Arno Williams and Jakub Stefano,

What’s your T?

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall…

A very hunky Sunday, and a glimpse of a nude Ryan Guzman.

It’s that time of the year again: prom season!

Once upon a time, I lived and loved in the Floating World.

It begins, as most majestic things do, with the tiniest seed of an idea. Sometimes it’s a feeling, sometimes it’s an injustice, and sometimes it’s something you have to do or you know you’ll die inside. In the beginning, then, is the quietest rumbling, like a distant train in the middle of the night. You sense it before you really know what it is.

Fortunately, I’m a little beyond that early stage of a new project. At this point, that train is loud and insistent and about to arrive, and nothing is going to stop it. There’s exhilaration in that, but exhaustion and weariness too. Above all else, though, it is a labor of love, and I can’t wait for this train to really take off.

For now, there’s the merest whisper of turning wheels, the faintest light from afar, and the lightest wisp of smoke from an engine that can simply be sensed, within a vehicle that can barely be felt, on a voyage whose outcome can only be surmised.

You know what that means: smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em! While I’ve never been a big pot smoker – or a pot smoker period, I have been known to take a toke on the rare occasion it rears its head. (Mostly this happened in my early twenties, when a lunch break from John Hancock and a circle of towering rhododendrons in the Southwest Corridor Park invited such shenanigans… but I digress.) Onto a much less hazy week in review, where the only smoke was that created by the hotness of a few choice Hunks, and the burning fire of creative inspiration.

First, the Hunks. We got to see the wood-working of Tommy Mac, the son of Dirty Harry ~ Scott Eastwood, the mad musical genius of Diplo, the news reporter Gio Benitez, the man who made something out of his boy band legacy ~ David W. Ross, the comic creation of Will Arnett, and the luminescence of Bright Light Bright Light.

Second, a citrus-based cocktail, to tease the sun out of its hiding spot.

Third, a citrus-tinged chicken recipe that seems to fill the stomach with sunshine.

Fourth, the incandescent maker of a pair of golden shoes that fly on sunlight itself ~ the jocular Jeremy Scott.

Fifth, a coat of sunshine in the midst of Chinatown.

Sixth, a group of nude men.

Seventh, a collection of quotes from a favorite book.

Eighth, a visit to my hometown ~ Amsterdam, New York.

Outside of upstate New York circles, I have to clarify when I claim to be from Amsterdam. Apparently my little hometown is not on the international map, while some sex-and-pot-riddled place in the Netherlands has made a name for itself under the same moniker. Visiting the real-deal has always been a dream of mine, but until that day arrives I’ll have to do with the city that stood home for a single windmill (until it burned down a while ago.)

On a recent weekend, I traveled back to Amsterdam, NY to work on a new project. My brother’s been renting out a space in the Clock Tower, once the center of the busy carpet mills that put the place on the map. Those mills closed, leaving a shell of an industry in their wake. Now, it seems the city is trying to revitalize the spot with some trendy industrial loft-style spaces. Sky-high ceilings and enormous windows make for the perfect backdrop for an artsy-fartsy photo shoot.

It’s for a top-secret project which I’ve been working on rather loosely for the past few months, and it kicks into high gear now that spring has reinvigorated my drive. Let’s just say it’s a final lesson in delusional grandeur.

To that end, I’ll be busy with photo shoots and writing and editing and compiling, so this site will be on auto-pilot. (Not that anyone will notice, as I’ll program posts as I’ve always done, and there won’t be a blip in the Hunk of the Day parade.)

Behind the scenes, however, this bee will be busy flitting from inspirational flower to inspirational flower, as I work to create the final piece of a puzzle that’s been in the making for twenty years.

The year, after all, is 2015. A lot of shit went down twenty years ago.

Karma Chameleon, baby… and remember: karma is a bitch.

“Nothing he did or said was unpremeditated. He saw through everybody, but he saw through them precisely because the first thing he looked for in people was the very thing he had seen in himself and may not have wished others to see.” ~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’

How could anyone intuit the manner of someone’s thinking unless he himself was already familiar with this same mode of thinking? How could he perceive so many devious turns in others unless he had practiced them himself?

What struck me was not just his amazing gift for reading people, for rummaging inside them and digging out the precise configuration of their personality, but his ability to intuit things in exactly the way I myself might have intuited them. This, in the end, was what drew me to him with a compulsion that overrode desire or friendship or the allurements of a common religion.

~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’

Did his heart jolt when he saw me walk into a room?

I doubted it.

Did he ignore me the way I ignored him that morning: on purpose, to draw me out, to protect himself, to show I was nothing to him? Or was he oblivious, the way sometimes the most perceptive individuals fail to pick up the most obvious cues because they’re simply not paying attention, not tempted, not interested?

~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’

I’d never traveled in this world. But I loved this world. And I would love it even more once I learned how to speak its language – for it was my language, a form of address where our deepest longings are smuggled in banter, not because it is safer to put a smile on what we fear may shock, but because the inflections of desire, of all desire in this new world I’d stepped into, could only be conveyed in play.

~ Andre Aciman, ‘Call Me By Your Name’

Across the street from where I slurped a bowl of pho, I watched this gentleman step outside for a smoke. I was struck by his apron of bright yellow, and while it was more than likely a piece of utilitarian garb, for me it was the perfect spot of spring color. Like some striking canary in a sea of gray-backed robins, he shone like the sun, resplendent in a world of uninspired surroundings.

The wind blew his smoke down the street, and soon his quick break was over. Hunched over a bit, he shuffled back inside, while others hurried by ignoring his colorful outfit. My eyes followed until the door closed behind him.

The weather of April is so variable that it’s risky to put up any ‘warm and sunny’ post in advance of it actually happening. Oh well, no risk, no glory, so on with the story. As our Northeastern spring struggles to catch up with the rest of the world, April is wild and unpredictable, not unlike the last week on this blog.

The most pressing matter of the moment is the question of how I’m going to procure a pair of these sneakers. Ideas and donations are equally welcome.

I’m hoping to return to the brilliance of Boston very soon, preferaby with skies like these. And flowers like these.

Madonna performed a scorching rendition of ‘Bitch, I’m Madonna’ on Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show, but I was much more enchanted by her ‘Ghosttown’ song and video.

Along those lines, Terrence Howard made his debut as Hunk of the Day thanks in part to his co-starring role in the above-referenced Madonna video.

Slowly but surely, it’s on the way.

Stupid is as stupid says.

In the question of who’s hotter in their underwear, Justin Bieber is hardly giving David Beckham a run for his budgie-smuggling money.

When Kira’s around, things get saucy and Saulty.

Adam Lambert got ripped.

No matter what nastiness was going on outside, the Hunks of the Day kept things nice and toasty. This week’s honorees included Chris Nogiec, Filip Sjunnesson, Jussie Smollett, Ming Tsai, and, one of my favorites in a long time, Luke Watson.