Category Archives: General

A Bad and Cruel Place

“Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?” ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Arriving at November, the penultimate month in the calendar year, after the warmest Halloween we’ve ever had, the world feels dangerously on the verge of something. Hopefully that’s my own little world – over that I have some semblance of control. The broader universe is on its own. 

While I’ll never begrudge a bit of summer lingering this late into the year, it doesn’t feel entirely right – there’s a sort of queasy sickness to the air, a few more allergies in the slightest breeze, a sense that something is slightly off. And then I realize – things are very much off – and it’s going to take a reckoning for the world to be righted. I don’t trust all of us to do the right thing. If given the choice between doing the right thing or doing something that benefits us, we’re all headed to the latter. Fairness, accountability, and even truth itself, have been reduced to hollow shells of what they once were. Moral nobility is the exception. The hurt and wounded will do what has been done to them; the selfish and spoiled will take and take and take. The dogged do-gooders will behave right up until you lose them. A bridge too far is still a bridge, but too far is still too far. 

November always feels like the cruelest month. 

“It strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.” ~ Bret Easton Ellis

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Think About This

Seen online: “So many folks talk about how they’re being ‘forced to accept’ things that go against their beliefs. You’re not being forced to accept them. If you have a problem with people of color, with gay marriage, with trans people, with immigrants, with women of any race, etc. then you’re still welcome to feel however you want to feel about those people. You’re just not allowed to make their lives harder because of your feelings. You’re not allowed to turn their daily lives into a battle ground. No one is forcing you to ‘accept’ a single thing. You’re just not being allowed to terrorize people.”

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An All-Too-Brief Visit

Dad stopped by fleetingly in a dream the other night. At a time when I’ve been feeling alienated from family, perhaps he sensed some bit of loneliness I have yet to face. 

I was under my Mom’s dining room table, and the whole place was a mess.

(That’s become less of a dream and more of a reality.)

In the dream, I’m trying vainly and valiantly to clean up another mess that had been left there. A sugar bowl for coffee, a candle, and a bunch of other things lay scattered on the floor. I scrambled to pick it all up before anyone got home. I don’t know why, I just wanted to clean it up and then get out without being seen.

Dad appeared then, just from the chest down, as I was under the table. He caught me and asked if I was feeling sick.

Then the dream ended. 

Too soon.

Even in our dreams, some messes never get cleaned up.

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Bewitchery Becoming: The Witch’s Playlist

“Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvelous beliefs, are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air.” ~ Washington Irving

A companion playlist to our Fade-to-Black listening experience for this fall, here is a bewitching collection of songs to add an element of witchcraft and magic to this most terribly enchanting of days. All sung by women, they are a siren call for my heart – strange twist in the mind of a gay man – and maybe that’s why I’ve always been more drawn to women when it comes to what counts. Give them a listen if you’d like, though I take no responsibility for any spells that may be cast upon your fancy. 

Lala Lala Song – Cemetery Girls

Bella Donna – Stevie Nicks

Season of the Witch – Lana Del Rey

Sun, Moon and Stars – Loreena McKennitt

Sisters of the Moon – Fleetwood Mac

Silent All These Years – Jem

Sorcerer – Stevie Nicks

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? ~ Taylor Swift

Siren – Tori Amos 

Wolves – Loni Lovato

Silver Springs – Fleetwood Mac

Daffodil – Florence + The Machine

Possession – Sarah McLaughlan

Gypsy – Fleetwood Mac

Come to Me – Bjork

Like A Prayer (Choir Version) – I’ll Take You There Choir

Leather & Lace – Stevie Nicks & Don Henley

thanK you aIMee – Taylor Swift

Vampire – Olivia Rodrigo

Paint It Black – Ciara

Witchcraft – Chris Connor

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Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

“The point is in this whole wide wicked world the only thing you have to be afraid of is me.” ~ Fiona Goode

Happy Halloween to the friends, readers, and those who dare to tread in these treacherous stretches of the internet without ever having met me. The latter is likely the luckiest of them all, and Halloween is the most harmless time of the year when you consider how much hurt I’ve caused the rest of the days. Yes, I said it. And I know it. The day doesn’t seem all that scary anymore.

… The who’s who of “Who’s that?” is poised for the attackBut my bare hands paved their pathsYou don’t get to tell me about sad
… If you wanted me dead, you should’ve just saidNothing makes me feel more alive
… So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your streetCrash the party like a record scratch as I scream“Who’s afraid of little old me?”You should be…

… The scandal was containedThe bullet had just grazedAt all costs, keep your good nameYou don’t get to tell me you feel bad
… Is it a wonder I broke? Let’s hear one more jokeThen we could all just laugh until I cry
… So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your streetCrash the party like a record scratch as I scream“Who’s afraid of little old me?”

Halloween used to begin with such innocence and end with such guilt. In my secret heart of hearts, I always wanted to be a beautiful witch – in a costume layered and rich with flowing robes, hidden jewel tones of royal violet beneath velvet as black as the darkest night. Boys couldn’t be witches then, even if we really were on the inside. The rage stayed contained – it whirled and spun and ravaged all that was inside me. It ate me up before anyone even noticed I was disappearing. The most wicked among us were devoured long ago. 

I was tame, I was gentle ’til the circus life made me mean“Don’t you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth”Who’s afraid of little old me?Well, you should be
… So tell me everything is not about meBut what if it is?Then say they didn’t do it to hurt meBut what if they did?

My potions are perfume. My spells are words. My broom is the straw-man in my head, taking me away to anywhere but here. My exorcism is your antidote. You’ve come for relief or relapse, and I have nothing to offer of either. Long ago, I learned to forge a way separate from whatever you wanted me to be. There was always disappointment in that. I know there was. I felt it too. Maybe that’s why some of us turn into witches – the world is too wicked to make it through being anything else. 

… I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made meYou wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised meSo all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebsI’m always drunk on my own tears, isn’t that what they all said?That I’ll sue you if you step on my lawnThat I’m fearsome and I’m wretched and I’m wrongPut narcotics into all of my songsAnd that’s why you’re still singing along

Let them call you those names – the ones that rhyme with ‘rich’ and ‘hunt’ – as they reveal who they are in their vain attempts to skin you alive. It’s going to hurt, and we shouldn’t pretend it won’t. Yes, I’m sorry to say, there is going to be much pain in this whole wide wicked world. And there is much reason to be afraid.

… You caged me and then you called me crazyI am what I am ’cause you trained meSo who’s afraid of me?Who’s afraid of little old me?Who’s afraid of little old me?

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When a Witch Turns Their Back…

… on you… watch out.

A witch rarely makes superfluous movements.

Every twitch, every touch, every nuanced side-glance of a shifty eye – they all move a witch toward their prescribed destination.

Sometimes it is a place, but not always

Sometimes it’s a state of mind, but not usually.

Often it’s simply a nod in the direction of survival – witches being in just as dire a strait as anyone these days. 

When a witch turns their back to you, it is intentional. It is intended and designed to unnerve, disarm, and transfix. All tricks of a witch’s trade

It is a determination to leave a chill in your heart.

Play this song – an incantation without words – as if such a thing could exist, as if words were nothing and music could make you feel something without meaning. 

Are you a good witch or a bad witch? Maybe you are not quite ready to assume the mantle just yet. 

My mantle is heavy, black velvet and purple lining, but it propels me into the night in ways you will never understand, gripping madly to a rough piece of wood like a talisman or hatchet or broom. 

I don’t think you know how many witches populate the world ~ which world? ~ and who among us might they count as brethren? A declaration of doubt turned into a question, or two. There, now you’re learning the ways. 

Never turn your back on a witch. Back away if you must, or wait it out – usually it’s better to wait it out. Witches appreciate those who appreciate patience. Waiting is a dark art. Patience is often disguised as a virtue. 

You only think the witch hasn’t seen you.

And you only think the watch hasn’t seen you because the witch wants you to think that. 

Already behind them, and they’re already gone. 

Rest tonight, dear reader, for tomorrow we fly

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A Detour

This space was originally slated for a very different post. 

It was a post that needed to be written, but it may need to be revised.

It was raw, painful to write, and painful to re-read. I put it down several times, and that was after shutting it off many more times in my head. It was a family post, one that tried to explain all the icky things I’ve felt of late but have largely kept quiet. My therapist knows. Andy has seen it. And a few close friends are aware. It’s the same things that have been fostering the dysfunction that’s gone on for almost five decades – and it’s literally taken me that long to see the overridden arcs and patterns as they repeat themselves in different ways. I’ve addressed it directly, in various ways over the years, as I’ve repeatedly had opportunity after opportunity of being hurt to do so, and the last time it happened I tried again. Exasperated, I blurted out at the end of an extended silence, “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” my Mom said.

“You’re right,” I said, speaking out in a way I don’t think I’ve ever done. “It’s not fine. But it keeps happening, and here we are again.”

I realized then that it was a familiar scene, and in its familiarity I realized it wouldn’t ever change, and there was nothing I could do to ever make it change. I’ve seen my parents and how they interact with their grandchildren – it’s startlingly different from how they interacted with me and my brother – and that’s absolutely how it should be. It only stung when my Mom let it slip once that she may be treating them differently because she wanted to make up for what we went through in our childhood. That felt like one of those back-handed compliments and acknowledgments – it’s wonderful that she dotes on her grandchildren – it’s a slap in the face to make it up with them when I’m still here and still getting hurt.

That probably sounds quite silly, and I’ve been told to grow up for saying far less. It also doesn’t much matter, other than in my own need to let it out. It won’t change anything, and after 49 years I finally get it. I’ve also been told that distancing myself might be helpful, for my own mental health and protection, and so I’ve been removing myself from those who have kept this cycle going. Not in a petty or mean way, at least I hope that’s not how it’s perceived, but in a self-preserving way – a resignation to how things have been. In place of that emptiness I once feared I find myself curating time with Andy, time with friends, planning for Boston holiday visits with old friends, and reading classics again – the way I would find comfort on scary high school nights when I felt isolated and alone, nights in which I wrote out in rage “I WILL LEAVE HERE AND NEVER COME BACK” on my bathroom mirror – losing myself in literature and trying to find a way out through words. 

And yes, this was the kinder post. Enjoy the detour.

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The UnHallowed Recap

Nothing sacred or special about this recap – just an end-of-October romp to get us into the week wherein we cross over to November. That’s a sordid thought of sorts, so let’s not dwell on it – the sooner we move through this dark path of woods, the sooner we may find a way out – on with the weekly recap.

Now… a warning.

Pumpkin season.

One last swim?

Kamala, obviously.

Skateboarding up a hill.

Perils of fall.

Sweet Ogunquit autumn.

Hold my nuts.

Super graphic ultra modern girl like me.

Five years of sober living.

Happy 30th Anniversary to Madonna’s ‘Bedtime Stories’

Sisters of the moon.

Marble and mud.

Dazzlers of the Day included Christian Siriano and Jon M. Chu.

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Marble and Mud

While ‘The Scarlet Letter’ exemplifies the atmosphere of a New England autumn, and all those other ‘A’ words, this season I’m reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s ‘The House of the Seven Gables’ for the first time, and it’s reinvigorated my love of classic literature – those tried and true works that have withstood the test of time as much for their written beauty as their evocation of how humans interact with one another

“Nevertheless, if we look through all the heroic fortunes of mankind, we shall find the same entanglement of something mean and trivial with whatever is noblest in joy or sorrow. Life is made up of marble and mud. And, without all the deeper trust in a comprehensive sympathy above us, we might hence be led to suspect the insult of a sneer, as well as an immitigable frown, on the iron countenance of fate. What is called poetic insight is the gift of discerning, in this sphere of strangely mingled elements, the beauty and the majesty which are compelled to assume a garb so sordid.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne

It is very queer, but not the less true, that people are generally quite as vain, or even more so, of their deficiencies than of their available gifts.” ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

“I’m as provocative of tears as an onion!” ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

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Five Years of Sober Living

Five years ago today, I had my last drink of alcohol. At that time, and in the ensuing years, I’ve always said that it was relatively easy for me to stop drinking. For me, that was the case, but what’s easy for me is not usually easy for most people, and I state that without any hubris. In truth, I did have to work at it, but that sort of work – a challenge and a goal – has always been somewhat enjoyable to me (or I wouldn’t do it). My main hat-trick, one of which I’m not even certain why I keep playing, is to do the hard work but make it look easy. Maybe it’s my penchant for wanting to make this world a little prettier; I just never wanted to reveal the effort and machinations involved because they’re rarely very beautiful or interesting. A swan is graceful because it floats and glides effortlessly across the smooth surface of the water – even when in reality it’s paddling like a crazed cyclist on the Tour de France. We don’t need to see the frenzied paddling, but it’s important to realize it’s there.

In the case of the elimination of alcohol from my lifestyle, it was a deliberate choice to be healthier and improve the relationships in my life. It worked on both fronts, but to say it was easy may muddy the waters for others who may be wondering why it was so easy. My case, as a good friend pointed out, is singular and rather rare, though there are components that others might find helpful, so here they are:

The first step – and the key step – is also the most difficult and intangible to describe. It was the realization that I was using drinking to mask/aid social anxiety. While on some level I always knew and understood this to be the case, I didn’t fully put the connection together. That came in therapy, which was the second major step.

Once I explored that, along with the other ancillary reasons for why I drank – family issues, social expectations, boredom – the real need for drinking suddenly dissipated. Superficially I got it, and the image of a drinker always seemed more interesting than the non-drinker, cloaked in wit and bonhomie and the sort of cutting persona I like to, well, cut (“I drink to make other people interesting“). Beneath that, though, I had to get to the core reasons and address those in ways that didn’t involve the band-aid of booze.

The third thing that helped was an intentional removal from social situations for a while, and the support of friends, who were cool with my decision/evolution and who completely understood without question or ribbing if I stopped joining them for a bit. A few months after that, COVID arrived which put everyone in the same isolated place, and that also helped since it afforded me a break before we all started hanging out again. Everyone was changed after COVID, and my not drinking, by that time, was not very much of note.

Fourth, I began meditating. First for two minutes a day, then three, then five – gradually increasing the minutes by one per week so it didn’t feel at all onerous or daunting – and soon enough I was up to half an hour a day of pure meditation – where I sat in silent, deep breathing, allowing thoughts to come until they didn’t come anymore, and finding a baseline of peace and calm that saw me through more stressful moments. 

The last piece that I implemented was that free online Yale course on finding happiness, which filled my time and alleviated any boredom that drinking might normally fill. Any hobby or occupation would likely do – it just had to be something I could focus on to keep the mind occupied and engaged. That’s sort of the purpose of life too I suppose. Taken together, that’s why it was easy for me to simply stop drinking.

Finally, a caveat (as in, NOW a warning?): my drinking was never to the point of chemical dependence. Was I on the verge of that becoming the case? Quite possibly. But when I stopped, I didn’t have any cravings or withdrawal and my medical tests didn’t reveal any issues caused by alcohol, so I feel confident in saying in those respects I wasn’t yet a full-blown alcoholic. I just realized that drinking was no longer serving as the solution for the issues I used it to solve. I was lucky to have supportive friends, and the privilege of being in a circumstance where I could concentrate on becoming healthier.

Five years later, it’s still one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

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Holding My Nuts

This helpful squirrel loves to hold my nuts.

Well, mine and Andy’s. 

Something for the booty and the mind at the same time

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Perils of Fall

Falling horse chestnuts.

Shit is real. And dangerous.

They’ll poke your eye out, just as you’re looking up.

In Ogunquit, there is a majestic horse chestnut tree right on the main drag, with a sign above that warns passers-beneath it to ‘watch for falling horse chestnuts’. I don’t think looking up is the best advice at such a time, but I get what they meant. 

Stay tuned for our brief Ogunquit recap – it was truly beautiful. 

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Kamala, Obviously

It’s disheartening to think that our Presidential election is as close as the broken media is portraying it to be. Kamala Harris is a capable prosecutor; Donald Trump is a convicted felon. That alone should be enough. For some reason – the misinformation and willful ignorance of Americans perhaps – it’s not, so if you’re still somehow on the fence for this very important election, a few facts for your perusal:

For freedom: In his own words, Trump killed Roe v. Wade and the right of women to make their own health decisions. Under his Project 2025 blueprint, and with the help of his VP pick JD Vance, Trump will likely implement a national abortion ban, to say nothing of the risks he poses to such options as IVF. 

For your finances: Trump’s tariff plan will tank the economy and raise costs of everything even more. His tax breaks will not benefit you – you do not make nearly enough money to benefit, and neither do I. Also, to count on someone whose companies have gone bankrupt multiple times to help our economy is downright stupid. 

For border security: Trump killed the bipartisan border bill that would have protected our borders – he is not interested in border security. He also had four years as President to build that wall, and failed miserably

For backing the blue: Trump instigated the January 6th insurrection, resulting in police dying, our Capitol being breached and vandalized, and putting our representatives in danger. Trump wants to pardon all of those criminals. 

For patriotism: Trump has called injured and killed veterans ‘suckers’ and ‘losers’; his generals have sounded the alarm on his fascist plans; his own Vice President – Mike Pence – won’t support him, largely because Trump didn’t care that his own supporters wanted to hang him on January 6

For character: Trump is a convicted felon, who cheated on his third, and then-pregnant, wife with a porn star, then lied and paid money to cover it up. He lies more than anyone else on the planet, and still clings to his sad and repeatedly-disproven lie that he didn’t lose the last election

For safety: Hundreds of thousands of Americans died thanks to Trump’s bungling of the COVID pandemic; he thought, and said out loud, injecting bleach might help. He was given a blueprint for how to handle such an event and threw it out because it came from President Obama. We all know someone who has died from COVID, and that might have not happened if someone competent was in charge at that time. 

For competence: Trump is a fucking moron. 

If you’re still voting for him in the face of all that, you should examine why. Deep down, you know. And I have a feeling it’s not in the name of anything noble or good. 

If you haven’t educated yourself on the merits and plans and detailed vision that Kamala Harris has for our great country, read it all here. This is substance. This is serious. This is a responsible adult who cares about our country. This is the best way forward. We cannot go back. 

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One Last Swim…

We teetered on the edge of 80 degrees yesterday, and it felt sickeningly like summer again when I finally took a late lunch. Once I got home, I hopped right into the pool while Andy set up the grill for one final round of hamburgers. He had had the foresight and wisdom to heat the pool to a cozy 84 degrees, so swimming in the warm water was a welcome embrace of comfort and pleasure – and not something I thought I’d get to do again this year. A bonus bout of summer coming later than it ever has before. Global warming indeed.

It also offers the ideal bit of counter-programming for our fade-to-black fall, and is a lovely little hint of the next summer to come – for there is always another summer… until there isn’t. This idyllic scene will be but a dream for the next six months, so having a last bit of joy gives Andy and I that spark of happiness to last through the coming winter

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Pumpkin Season

‘Tis the damn season.

Here’s a pumpkin

There’s nothing great about it

It’s going to be in the 70’s today.

I don’t feel like blogging

I don’t feel like doing much of anything

It’s a feeling of blah.

Of meh.

Of fuck it all

But enjoy this pumpkin, and your fall fun

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