All this time I thought Buster Poindexter was Al Franken.
And vice versa.
07
April
2025
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April
2025
Robert Irwin Fronts A Bulging Recap
Robert Irwin takes the cake for his recent underwear unveiling, and that’s about all the news that’s fit to print in these parts. A few other things happened too, so let’s do the weekly recap and move deeper into April…
Bad Bunny goes full-frontal here!
The family that plays together…
The line between selfish and self-care is a fine one.
It’s salty kinda… but I like it.
Glamour is youth, ergo we were all glamorous once.
What do you mean it’s not in the computer?!?!
This was the tale of how I got locked in Albany Rural Cemetery…
… and this is the insane outfit I happened to be wearing when they finally let me out.
All in the name of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale.
Robert Irwin posed in his underwear and won the Dazzler of the Day. (That’s all you need to do, guys.)
06
April
2025
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April
2025
Give Me The Hook Or the Ovation
While I was born in the 70’s and grew up in the 80’s, my main gay awareness arrived in the 90’s, long after the disco world of Gloria Gaynor and this dance version of ‘I Am What I Am’ tore up the floors. I happened upon it on a compilation CD I found in a Provincetown music store, and it wasn’t just because of the underwear-clad male model on the cover, I swear. I also knew the song from ‘La Cage Aux Folles’ so the melody and sentiment were familiar. It spoke to my burgeoning gay sensibility on another plane.
I am what I amI am my own special creationSo come take a lookGive me the hook or the ovation
It’s my world that I want to have a little pride inMy world and it’s not a place I have to hide inLife’s not worth a damn‘Til you can say, I am what I am
A musical reference to Provincetown feels apt at this moment – and whenever I think of Provincetown I think of little jewels of moments – this one is a snippet of one of my first visits. Making my way back to whatever accommodations I had after a night out, I found myself pausing at the privet fence of a little cottage on some side street off Commercial. The blooms on the hedge, always so simple and unassuming, perfumed the night air; it was the scent of summer, the scent of beauty.
I am what I amI don’t want praise, I don’t want pityI bang my own drumSome think it’s noise, I think it’s pretty
I remember peering into the cottage windows, where a Tiffany lamp glowed, bathing the space in warm light. It looked so cozy and inviting, and even though it was summer and more than warm enough outside, it was still night. I longed for a place that was warm and lit like that, and while the perfume of the privet flowers tickled my nose, and a night breeze ran its cool fingers through my hair, I couldn’t see that place in my future just yet.
And so what if I love each sparkle and each bangle?Why not try to see things from a different angle?Your life is a sham‘Til you can shout out, I am what I am
I am what I amAnd what I am needs no excusesI deal my own deckSometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces
Peering into the house a little while longer, I wondered at its owners and inhabitants, at the lives they lived, and the people they loved, and in that idea was hope and exhaustion and the exquisite murkiness of what might lie ahead for me. Snippets of whatever gay dance song was big at the moment played in my head, or maybe it was this song, discovered in this town, decades after it first came out, just as I was coming out, just when I needed most to believe…
It’s one life and there’s no return and no depositOne life, so it’s time to open up your closetLife’s not worth a damn‘Til you can shout out, I am what I am
I am what I amAnd what I am needs no excusesI deal my own deckSometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces
It’s one life and there’s no return and no depositOne life, so it’s time to open up your closetLife’s not worth a damn‘Til you can shout out, I am what I am
~ The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale ~
- Pink Frilly Fairy: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three
- Homage to Herb: Part One, Part Two and Part Three
- A Purple-Hued Interlude
- Style & Panache: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- Purple Puff Confection: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- A Blue-Hued Interlude
- Fuchsia Fabulousness: Part One. Part Two and Part Three.
- Bad Boy Bangs: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Vanity Under Where: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Sugar Plum Ballerina: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.
- A Pool Frolic: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- A Cemetery Interlude: Part One and Part Two.
- Powder Blue Fur Doll: Part One.
06
April
2025
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April
2025
A Winter Coat of Powder Blue Fur
Shooting this section of the Divine Diva Tour came with the unexpected price I had to pay here. It was the hefty price of shame and humiliation, and the pay-off was a hearty dose of laughter at my own expense – a lesson worth more than anyone could ever afford. But there was something more serious at work, and upon this turn of our Fairy’s Tale the kaleidoscopic nature of the project comes into better focus. This marks about the tenth persona/image featured in The Divine Diva Tour, and it is here where we see that one of the main tenets of the project is its shifting nature: the masks and guises we wear, the characters we play and inhabit, all of whom work together to make us the singular presence the world thinks it knows us to be.
‘Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, that’s lifeTryin to make ends meet, you’re a slave to money then you dieI’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been downYou know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah…
No change, I can changeI can change, I can changeBut I’m here in my moldI am here in my moldBut I’m a million different peopleFrom one day to the nextI can’t change my moldNo, no, no, no, no(Have you ever been down?)
Well, I’ve never prayed but tonight I’m on my knees, yeahI need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeahI let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free nowBut the airwaves are clean and there’s nobody singin’ to me now
No change, I can changeI can change, I can changeBut I’m here in my moldI am here in my moldAnd I’m a million different peopleFrom one day to the nextI can’t change my moldNo, no, no, no, no(Have you ever been down?)I can’t change, oh, noI can’t change, oh
‘Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, that’s lifeTryin to make ends meet, tryna find somebody then you dieI’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been downYou know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah
You know I can change, I can changeI can change, I can changeBut I’m here in my moldI am here in my moldAnd I’m a million different peopleFrom one day to the next
I can’t change my moldNo, no, no, no, no
I can’t change my moldNo, no, no, no, no,I can’t change my mold, no, no, no, no
It’s just sex and violence, melody and silenceIt’s just sex and violence, melody and silenceI’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been downI’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down
~ The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale ~
- Pink Frilly Fairy: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three
- Homage to Herb: Part One, Part Two and Part Three
- A Purple-Hued Interlude
- Style & Panache: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- Purple Puff Confection: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- A Blue-Hued Interlude
- Fuchsia Fabulousness: Part One. Part Two and Part Three.
- Bad Boy Bangs: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Vanity Under Where: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Sugar Plum Ballerina: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.
- A Pool Frolic: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- A Cemetery Interlude: Part One and Part Two.
06
April
2025
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April
2025
Freed from a Cemetery, A Diva Laughs
When last we left off, I was locked in the Albany Rural Cemetery, and here is what I was wearing.
Without a change of clothes or a cel phone (in 2005 I didn’t even own a cel phone yet because I hated them so much) I had a moment of panic. Looking at the caretaker’s house to my left, I leaned hard on the horn, desperate for someone to save me. There was movement in the window, and then a muffled shout of anger: “If you want to get out, you can come up to the house and ask me to unlock the gate in person!”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
My hair was a mess from having been stuffed in a blonde wig and fake fur hat. My make-up, a clown-show to begin with, was a dismal visage. With only a tissue or two in the car, I tried to wipe as much off as I could, but when you have this much on there’s not much that’s going to come off with a dry tissue. There wasn’t much I could do about the rest of the ensemble – unless I took it all off on this winter afternoon.
Backing the car up, I made one last plea with the universe and waited to see if some Good Samaritan might come out, but Good Samaritans just don’t play a part in my life. Never have and never will. I took a deep breath, channeled my annoyance into fight mode in the event that I needed to argue my way out of the cemetery, and approached the door of the house. I knocked and heard movement inside.
An agitated woman flung open the door, and I could see she was about to launch into a tirade about how rude I was to simply beep and expect the gates to open, when she was struck silent by the persona before her. Mouth agape, no sound came from her, so I spoke in agitated fashion: “THIS is why I didn’t want to come to the door,” I said sternly, with a dramatic flourish of my hand to indicate the outfit that needed no further attention being brought to it. “I’m working on a sort of art project that… well, never mind…” and I trailed off.
“Oh,” she said, a smile finally breaking upon her face.
And then the kicker: she called her husband to come over. “You gotta see this!” she intoned with a glee that I suspected might have been laced with malevolence, until she softened and said, “No problem, he’ll let you out!”
Assured that I had paid my dues by giving them both a story to tell all her friends and family for the next few years, she merrily set me free, and I returned home fully traumatized, but strangely revitalized. Suddenly, ‘The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale’ had a comedic element that presented itself like a hidden jewel, unlocking the key aspect that took out the entirely-too-earnest and serious stance that I gave to all of my projects up to that point. Rather than a studied and meticulously glamorous romp, I could see the silliness of the endeavor, and face the fact that I would never be a true diva.
Because a truly divine diva wouldn’t be caught dead locked up in a cemetery.
~ The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale ~
- Pink Frilly Fairy: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three
- Homage to Herb: Part One, Part Two and Part Three
- A Purple-Hued Interlude
- Style & Panache: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- Purple Puff Confection: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- A Blue-Hued Interlude
- Fuchsia Fabulousness: Part One. Part Two and Part Three.
- Bad Boy Bangs: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Vanity Under Where: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Sugar Plum Ballerina: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.
- A Pool Frolic: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- A Cemetery Interlude: Part One.
05
April
2025
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April
2025
Trapped in a Cemetery, A Diva Laments
The Albany Rural Cemetery is a place of beauty, tranquility, respite and repose. Expansive and sprawling, it unfurls in gently rolling hills and little stretches of woodland. It is ancient and steeped in history (it is the resting place for President Chester Arthur) and the crumbling sections and fallen fences in some areas lend it the weight and gravitas of centuries. No other place puts the essence of time in such stark relief than a cemetery.
This particular cemetery has provided the dramatic backdrop for many photos over the years, particularly those found in the ‘StoneLight’ project. I’ve spent many creative hours seeking out spaces here, always finding sources of inspiration, tableaus that spark other branches of ideas.
When it came time to find backdrops for The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale, the Albany Rural Cemetery was forefront in my mind for two very big shoots – the spring freshness of this Purple Puff piece and this dreamy, delicious, queer and dear post. It was the perfect prancing ground for the fairy’s tale being told. I also wanted to shoot a winter scene here, which brings us to the background story that ended up overshadowing the entire Divine Diva Tour experience, as it’s the story that still gets told to this day when nothing else from this project remains relevant.
One of the main reasons I kept coming back here was the relative quiet and unpopulated nature of the space, particularly in the secluded, off-the-beaten-path sections I could drive to along winding and largely untraveled little roads. There were occasional walkers and visitors, but it wasn’t difficult to avoid them in the more neglected areas. It made posing in a big puffy purple dress possible without prying eyes. (Or posing in what I wore for the powder blue winter landscape I am about to show you.)
For that shoot, I waited until the golden hour, which came early in the winter – around 4 PM. I entered the gates and turned down the volume of whatever music I had playing – my little way of showing respect to the surroundings. I’d worn the particular costume for the shoot in the car, which was a ridiculous faux fur coat, a lace skirt, some ruffled bloomers and lace stockings, and a faux fur hat that matched the coat. I hadn’t bothered to bring along another change of clothing because I only intended to get a few quick pics and return home. I even had insane make-up on to go with the scene, and a crazy wig of platinum blonde ringlets. The gates disappeared behind me as I drove further in, as did the sign of the cemetery hours that I had never taken notice of, and soon I was flouncing about in the snow and capturing the winter scene you see before you.
By the time the sun was down, I’d gotten the shots I needed, squeezed the silly ensemble back into the car, and drove back out the way I had come in, only now the gates were closed. Closed and locked. Having never stayed later in the day, I had no idea that the cemetery closed and locked up at any time. To the left of the driveway out, right near the gates, I noticed the caretaker’s little house, and a car in the space beside it. I was about to get out, when I looked in the mirror, saw the clown make-up, and realized I was in a crazy get-up of powder blue fur and lace that would simply not allow me to leave the vehicle. I did the only thing I could do: leaned on the horn briefly, in as friendly a way as I could muster, so whomever was inside might press a button and let me out.
And nothing happened.
I was locked in the Albany Rural Cemetery, I had no cel phone, and most importantly nothing appropriate to wear if I even managed to get the police to arrive. When you see how I looked, in the next post, you’ll understand the predicament a bit better.
…{~To Be Continued~}…
~ The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale ~
- Pink Frilly Fairy: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three
- Homage to Herb: Part One, Part Two and Part Three
- A Purple-Hued Interlude
- Style & Panache: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- Purple Puff Confection: Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
- A Blue-Hued Interlude
- Fuchsia Fabulousness: Part One. Part Two and Part Three.
- Bad Boy Bangs: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Vanity Under Where: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
- Sugar Plum Ballerina: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.
- A Pool Frolic: Part One, Part Two. and Part Three.
05
April
2025
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April
2025
Where is the new music already? What do you mean it’s not in the computer?!?
Dear Madonna,
Please hurry up with the new album – the world needs some joy right now, and nothing is more joyous than new Madonna music. You’ve been hinting at a sequel to ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor‘ with new collaborations with Stuart Price – we are here for it, we are queer for it, and we need it yesterday. Thank you so much.
Signed,
~ A.
05
April
2025
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April
2025
Glamour is Youth
Glamour is youth, and youth glamour.
Whenever someone says they don’t know what it’s like to be glamorous, I always think they just don’t understand that. My friend Chris and I recently had a conversation in which he lamented that we hadn’t yet done anything in our own right to be celebrated in glamorous fashion. I understood what he meant – we weren’t famous or accomplished enough to travel in typically glamorous circles, but every once in a while we brushed up against it – at parties I managed to worm my way into through semi-famous acquaintances or film school events he hooked us into – where a certain director was so much drunker than I was that she stumbled down the stairs at one point – but we were casual acquaintances and guests – not the main attraction.
I also explained to him that I always felt glamorous at such times. And I still feel it whenever I get dolled up and outfitted in proper fashion. We have each had our moments of glamour – and it’s not something that depends on wealth or status or fame.
We were all young once – therefore we were all once glamorous, and in our own way.
I don’t rememberWhen I was youngI don’t recall the dayWhen I first saw the sunBut what I am certainWhat is enough is just to rememberThat once, once I was loved
I still surrenderThe troubles I knowNo use pretendingAll the troubles ain’t my ownBut what I am certainWhat is enough is just to rememberThat once, once I was loved
Youth is usually afforded the affinity of glamour. I felt that way back then – I felt the eyes of a room on me, felt the focused vision of someone directed my way, and I was fortunate to feel it regularly. “My mother raised me to be admired…” as someone once said.
Chris lamented that we had no glamorous moments, unless we were at some fancy party by accident or approximation. “What are you talking about?!” I asked. We were young and attractive enough, and at those parties we were the ones that others viewed as glamorous – because glamour is youth. It made me sad that Chris didn’t feel that at the time, because it’s too late now – at least, it’s too late to feel the glamour of youth.
We can make up for it in other ways – and wisdom has a glamour that is even more enviable. Almost everyone has had the glamour of youth, whether they realize it or not; very few of us manage to achieve the glamour of wisdom.
All is not lost… not yet…
After the years gone byWhat amounts to the years in a lifeWhat have we come toWhen we reach our final daysIf we can surrenderAnd that is enoughJust to remember that onceOnce we were lovedOnce we were beautifulOnce we were lovedIf we can surrenderAnd that is enoughJust to remember that onceOnce we were loved
04
April
2025
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April
2025
Friday Night Solitude
When fifteen minutes of meditation, followed by fifteen minutes of cutting up vegetables for a salad for dinner, then eating said dinner, all fail to erase the stress of a wicked work day, then I turn to Duke Ellington and this song on ‘Solitude’ to ease our home into the weekend. It looks to be a sickeningly chilly and rainy weekend, so today was likely my last chance for doing any sort of outdoor work. Such is spring. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life.
Friday nights used to be the shit.
Now, I just want to sleep, but I can’t just yet because that would fuck up the night.
So I force myself to stay awake until a little later, and I write this, with the hope of summoning some collection of posts for the weekend. I cannot promise anything. I’m tired out.
04
April
2025
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April
2025
Fishberry Jam
Despite being glamorized by Mame Dennis and her nephew Patrick in ‘Auntie Mame‘ – (as “fishberry jam” – it’s salty kind of but he liked it) – caviar never held much allure for me. Part of me also suspected I might enjoy it a bit too much, given my penchant for briny things – olives and capers and all things fishy. For those slightly contradictory reasons, I’ve avoided caviar all these years, happily not spending the extra money or indulging in such decadence.
That changed during our recent homage to ‘Babette’s Feast’ in which ‘Blinis Demidoff’ formed the opening salvo. Suzie put the caviar on sparingly for all the guests, so I was left with an almost-full jar at the end of the evening – which meant I could act a total fishery jam glutton and go to town the next day. The sea-like brilliance that was merely hinted at with that first trial, was magnified and made center-stage on a bed of creme fraiche, and I was instantly a caviar convert.
03
April
2025
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April
2025
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series
The line between selfish and self-care is a fine one.
I know it well; I’ve straddled it my entire life.
03
April
2025
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April
2025
Dazzler of the Day: Robert Irwin
Sometimes all it takes to be Dazzler of the Day is one underwear shoot to launch a new brand of skivvies (at least new to the United States). Bonds has been an Australian underwear staple for years – only now does it find its way onto our weary shores, and it has a scintillating ambassador in the form of Dazzler of the Day Robert Irwin. Son of the late Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin, Robert has made a splash in his own right, which finds a nifty highlight in these shots displaying his, err, trouser-snake, among other creatures.
03
April
2025
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April
2025
Diner Dream Music
There are days when nothing but a diner meal will do.
Dale Cooper understood that.
And Suzie and I most definitely understand that.
While I usually have the company of a cherished friend along for my diner adventures, there are occasional moments when that’s simply not possible or preferable.
Diners are made for solitary dining, and no one bats an eye at the strange fellow by his lonesome at the end of the long row of single chairs near the kitchen. You can blend in at a diner better than you can blend in almost anywhere else. In a diner, everyone is an oddity, therefore no one is.
Many an artist has plopped themselves into a diner and thought or wrote or crafted something of significance, something that was more than its greasy, fried origins. Maybe because a diner represents a slice of humanity, as perfectly imperfect as a slice of pie or cup of black coffee. It is where the magnificent and mediocre meet under one tin roof, slightly rusted, and beautiful in an ancient way.
02
April
2025
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April
2025
A Word, Then, On Men
When I was much younger, I used to think that men were just boys, overgrown in all the right places.
Then there was a time when I thought that men were just boys, overgrown in all the wrong places.
Now I think that men are just boys, and we’re all just trying to grow up.
02
April
2025
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April
2025
Who Wears Whose Shorts in the Family?
IYKYK.
And we definitely know.
The final installment of “The White Lotus’ arrives next Sunday, and it’s reportedly a 90-minute boffo episode, because that’s the least amount of time it will take to unravel all the loose threads that have been hanging all season.
No word on whether Patrick Schwarzenegger gets naked one last time as he did here…
… or just goes shirtless as he did here.
