First of all, don’t talk back to the performers just because you’re drunk or high.
Second, don’t get so drunk or high that you have to get up before the third song even begins.
Third, don’t bring a hunter’s knife with you so everyone is afraid to ask you to shut the hell up.
Fourth, don’t sit in the first five rows if you’re allergic to smoke effects. The girl melts. What did you expect?
I had not quite made up my mind to start giving into holiday music and mayhem when my brother and nephew visited earlier today. On this sunny Saturday of November, when Thanksgiving is less than two weeks away, and Christmas songs are already plastered over the radio, I decide to stop fighting and indulge in the season. It’s an early start, but it will burn slowly in these first few days. My Mom stops by a little later, with an early gift in tow, so it seems this was indeed the time to begin.
A scarlet cinnamon sandalwood candle burns in the middle of the dining room table, and a cozy batch of fennel chick peas warms on the stove. Butternut squash awaits roasting in the kitchen, and a quartet of strings plays ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’ in the background. A six-pack of Smuttynose Pumpkin Ale chills in the fridge (if I’m going to get into beer, it’s going to be through pumpkin flavoring). It is a perfectly-pre-holiday moment. I will finish up the holiday cards today (all that remains is putting a last touch of blood on the envelopes – you’ll see…) and then the first stages of holiday prep work will be complete. It may not seem like a lot, but I’m doing the little things earlier to have more fun later. In the words of that great lady Mrs. Peacock, “I am determined to enjoy myself!”
This weekend I am heading into New York to welcome Madonna back to Madison Square Garden. While I’ve seen the MDNA Tour already in Boston, our seats were atrocious, so I’m looking for the real experience this time around. Suzie is joining me for this one, as per tradition, and we intend to squeal like teenage girls because that’s what we do at every Madonna concert. I’m also trying The Out hotel for the very first time, hoping that the “straight friendly” accommodations are as fabulous as the “gay hotel” image they’ve crafted for themselves. Other than that, I’m keeping things low key (translation: shopping and cocktails) because the day after returning from NY I’m taking Andy to see ‘Wicked’ at Proctor’s, then we’re attending the Beaujolais Nouveau AIDS Council Benefit, and then I’m back in Boston for holiday shopping. No rest for the Wicked indeed.
This is my pal Pete waterskiing in the late afternoon sun. While hanging out with him and some of the Cape Cod crew, I saw the photo of the sunset and the water skis and said I had to post it. Taken on Pete’s iPhone by his friend Julie Johnson, they came out surprisingly well when you consider the tricky light and the fact that a moving speed boat isn’t the most stable of tripods. A simple reminder of summer days – something we need right now as the weather goes from bad to worse. As for whether I’ll ever get up on a pair of water skis, it’s highly unlikely. I would freak out bobbing up and down in the middle of a large body of water. That’s just asking to be eaten by the Loch Ness monster.
To see us through the lunch-time hour, the artful out-of-focus side of a bath time photo shoot, and how best to hide the twig and berries. With some creative cropping, a few fortuitously-floating islands of bubbles, and one disappearing sponge, these shots should be safe for work. The next set may not be, so come back when you get home.
Talking politics always makes me feel dirty, so there’s no better time to take a bath than today. Actually, it was the other day, so hopefully I’ll have some residual cleanliness to see me through what will likely be a very long evening. When we redid our master bathroom a few years ago, both Andy and I decided a tub was unnecessary. Neither of us took baths, and the lines of a shower-only bathroom were much cleaner and more open. Though I still prefer this, every once in a while I find myself craving a long, hot bath, particularly when we approach the winter, and cold nights aren’t staved off by hot showers alone.
When I’m lucky enough to be staying in a decent hotel, I’ll scope out the tub, fill it with hot water, and add a few drops of tea tree oil and some lavender bubble bath. Throw in a new sponge and I’m happy as a pearl being rescued from an icky clam, re-purposed for some pretty lady’s sweetly-scented neckline. It’s the poor-man’s version of a massage – an indulgent moment of pampering that takes the edge off of the day.
The comfort of bubbles, the way they tickle the nose and the ears, adds to the playful notion of taking a bath. All that’s missing is a rubber ducky.
The only thing that sometimes creeps into my OCD head is the thought that by the end of it you’re basically sitting in a pool of dirty water. That’s why I have to take a quick shower afterward. There was actually once a doctor who said that was actually the best way to get the most clean – a bath followed by a shower. Works for me.
In honor of election day, and my intention to stay far from politics, there will be nothing but bath posts coming up later – as per a promise I made to the Duchess. Now then, who’s a dirty boy?
Continuing in the tradition of crazy-ass half-delirious blog posts concocted in the midst of fever-like delirium – wait, delirious delirium? Damn! – I offer a Monday morning entry to ease us into the work-week. With a few days of missed work last week, and an already-behind-schedule holiday plan, I’m just going to wing it for the next few days, pray that Madonna makes it to Madison Square Garden and the show goes on, and do a little Noreaster prevention dance. I did manage to make it to Boston and Falmouth this weekend, to see Kira for a belated birthday dinner, and then my friend Kim in ‘Sunset Blvd.’, but I was still slightly under-the-weather and just trying to keep my head above-water.
As for those holiday plans, it’s just the usual mayhem and craziness. Doing the holiday cards, the party invitations, the outfit planning, the gift buying, the decorating, and, yes, even a bit of the cooking (hello candied yams) has already amped itself into a most onerous list of tasks. Each year I tell myself that I will get it done early and just enjoy the season. And each year I fail – not miserably, but enough. We’ll see if I can get this train back on track, or if it’s going to go all Polar Express on my ass. Toot-toot, beep-beep.
And PS – To all those people I texted in the feverish states of doped up drunken madness I reached this weekend, I warned you. You all wanted me to get texting, now you deal with the monster you created. Don’t call me Dr. Frankenstein.
The notion of gaining an hour of time has always fascinated me. The myriad ways and manners one chooses to use that hour is an imaginative playground in which my mind could romp for the days before and after Daylight Savings Time makes its change. Only once did I forget to move my clocks back. I was in college, and probably not minding much news (I didn’t have a TV in my dorm, nor the internet – it was early 90’s!) On the Sunday of the time change, I went into Boston to catch a matinee. As I handed the guy my ticket he said it wasn’t time for the movie yet. I looked at my watch and said that the movie started in five minutes. He shook his head. I was adamant, telling him what time the movie started, showing him the time printed on the ticket, and again explaining that it was going to begin in five minutes. He shook his head again and pointed at the clock over his shoulder. As he did so it dawned on me that I missed the time change. Sheepishly, I smiled and excused myself, telling him I’d see him again in an hour. He wasn’t amused.
Halloween is traditionally my day off as far as costumes and get-ups go. I do enough of that throughout the year (recent baseball photos for example). However, in honor of the holiday, and the very first sneak peek of this year’s Holiday Card, I’m putting out this early promo to give you a bloody taste of what’s in store for those on my Christmas Card list. Having been family-friendly and too-damn-safe-for-work these past two years, I decided to do something different and slightly edgy. Not exactly Christmas-like, unless we’re talking Christmas massacre, which was one of the inspirations. That and a little Janis Joplin were all that I needed.
Though these days it’s all about a bunch of annoying brats ringing the doorbell right in the midst of cocktail time, I once enjoyed Halloween as much as any kid. Oddly enough, I didn’t do anything over-the-top or all that unusual as far as costumes go (again, Halloween has always been a sort of day-off for someone who dresses costume-like on any given day). I was a devil (duh), an old man (save it), a pirate, and the Phantom of the Opera – but it was my younger costumes that I enjoyed the most – particularly my year as a skunk (with a white marabou boa as my stripe, and pink make-up on my nose) – my year as Winnie-the-Pooh – and… wait for the irony… my year as a beaver.
As a kid, I adored beavers – I was as obsessed with them then as I am by Madonna now. Every school report, every diorama, every book I read had something to do with a beaver. For my birthday we went to Beaversprite. So it was only fitting that for Halloween I would be a beaver. Strangely enough, there weren’t many readily-available pre-made costumes for those of us looking to transform into the supersize rodent, so Mom had to make the outfit. The most important part was the tail – a wide, flat bit of fluffy fur that served as the sole bit of glamourous trapping in an otherwise rather-drab brown outfit. I didn’t care – I loved it. Further proof that it’s not what you wear that counts, but how what you’re wearing makes you feel. Even if you’re a gay boy pretending to be a beaver.
At first the quietude is disconcerting. After Heidi – the friendly young lady who booked us the room – escorts us upstairs and shows us our quarters, we are left to inspect the bedroom. Soothingly painted in delft blues, with bedding in stark white, the room is softly bright, but the quiet, even in an afternoon nap, remains ever-so-slightly uncomfortable. We are not used to the silence.
This is the wearying effect of modern life on the soul ~ the things that matter, the things that are truly beautiful and good ~ get lost amid the frenzy. Maybe we have arrived here for a reason.
There is just a small stretch of activity outside the hotel, and in half an hour we had exhausted the few stores on Main Street (and I had gifts for all the babies in my life). The people we meet along the way are uniformly friendly and welcoming, and we are even chased by a particularly embracing storekeeper, who generously offers a few magazines for us to peruse as she was just going to get rid of them anyway.
Andy jokes that this is how every horror movie begins – the strangely over-affectionate welcoming characters of a small town masking the dark and unseemly underside that comes out – when things start to go bump in the night. As the grayness of the day passes overhead, it is not a pleasing thought, but an afternoon nap manages to erase the unease.
We returned from a wonderful weekend at the amazing American Hotel in Sharon Springs, just in time for the arrival of Sandy. Who the hell knows what she will bring to these parts – I only know that last time we lost power for any length of time, I high-tailed it to Boston, which is where I’m scheduled to be on Friday anyway, so perhaps this will force an earlier trip than planned. (I don’t do well without electricity or heat.) A full write-up of the wonder of Sharon Springs will be coming up later this week, but anyone who’s been to the American Hotel knows that is is absolutely enchanting.
As far as the storm goes, I’ve got something in the crock-pot that will be done by the time it arrives, and that’s about it. We’ve also baked a pie that my Mom brought over before we left, so we should be set for provisions. (All that matters is that the bar is full.) As for possible storm activities, I suggest you procure a libation of your choosing, get comfortable, and check out a few things that you may have missed in the revamp of this site, starting with The Pictures, moving through  The Writings, and winding up with the temporary (and admittedly incomplete) Projects page that we will hopefully be updating very shortly.
