There are some movies that break your heart open, that wrench your deepest feelings and touch the places we may most want to remain buried. These aren’t necessarily the most fun movies – they’re not the kind of movie you play over and over again, in the background or for friends before a Christmas party, but they’re the ones that resonate far longer.

‘The Hours’ is one of these movies for me. Based on the brilliant book by Michael Cunningham, it’s all about the Virginia Woolf segments, and the train station scene in particular.

“Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel I can’t go through another one of these terrible times and I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices and can’t concentrate so I am doing what seems to be the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I know that I am spoiling your life and without me you could work and you will, I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. Everything is gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.”

‘Brokeback Mountain’ is another. So quietly powerful and moving is this one that I can’t watch it more than once a year or so. Even then, I’m often only able to make it through bits and pieces. Stark, brutal, beautiful and unforgiving, it’s an exquisite dirge for the soul.

“The shirt seemed heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside Jack’s sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he’d thought, long ago in some damn laundry, his dirty shirt, the pocket ripped, buttons missing, stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack’s own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one.” – Annie Proulx

“He pressed his face into the fabric and breathed in slowly through his mouth and nose, hoping for the faintest smoke and mountain sage and salty sweet stink of Jack but there was no real scent, only the memory of it, the imagined power of Brokeback Mountain of which nothing was left but what he held in his hands.” – Annie Proulx

The Delusional Grandeur Tour was in Boston again this past weekend, hosting of all things a Holiday Children’s Hour, so I’m likely still reeling from that experience. The Holiday Card 2015 was also sent out, so it’s just a matter of time before it gets posted here. This year’s is a low-key scene – I need a year off now and then to recuperate from all the shock and awe and carnage of previous Holiday Card insanity. On with the recap…

One of my favorite holiday traditions – watching the old Christmas specials – went into overdrive with airings of A Charlie Brown Christmas and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

December is always a tricky month.

It turns out that in certain circles my bulge is more popular than my ass. Whatever, I’ll take it. (Though I happen to think my rosebud will be the most popular of them all.)

For the first time in 15 years, I decorated the Boston condo for Christmas.

A pause on the verge of winter.

An early holiday party.

Holiday Hunks who spread their Christmas joy in sweaty shirtless form included Rocky Buttery, Andrew Skelton, Eric East, Ramiro Sanchez, and Ryan Marek.

Finally, my naked ass for all of New York (and the world) to see. Please bare with me.

Sometimes beauty is obscene,

but it will never be obsolete.

Even at this late stage of my cologne obsession, there are still surprises to be had, and I’m constantly amused by how little I know my own likes and preferences. If you’d told me I’d choose a floral over a woody scent, I’d have laughed richly. If you said I’d select something fruity over something spicy, I’d have called you nuts. Yet the nose knows what it wants, and will choose accords accordingly, despite what the mind and the educated guesswork might surmise. A case in point was my recent run-in with the Bond No. 9 line.

I’d just visited one of their stores in New York, and left impressed but not enraptured, and definitely not in love enough to justify the exorbitant price tags. Yet while waiting for Kira to deal with her shoe complex at the Harvard Square Tannery, I perused the small selection of Bond fragrances and fell in absolute love with the New York Oud.

It opened with a fruity blast of plum (two of my favorite frags – Plum Japonais and Pomegranate Noir – employ a fruity sweetness) and then something I never thought I’d like: rose. The classic floral note, so rich and redolent of history and grandmotherly overuse, was never on my radar, but that changed with Tom Ford’s ‘Oud Fleur’ – and the revolutionary turn-around is complete with ‘New York Oud.’ I find the namesake – the actual oud itself – is downplayed, but an integral component for keeping the floral aspect from blooming uncontrollably. It’s a delightful combination that on paper reads like a copy of the ‘Oud Fleur’ but in reality emanates an entirely different story – a story that needs to be part of my life. After spraying some on in the store, it haunted me for the rest of the day. I think I may have annoyed Kira with all my exclamations of adoration, but that’s what a good cologne does to me. Obsession and passion – two sides of the same sweetly-scented coin.

Of course, this puts a wrench in my holiday wish list, which has already been posted here. The good thing is, there’s always Valentine’s Day, and a rose fragrance may be more apt for that anyway.

Testing out winter garb for upcoming condo stays, I had to crop my bed-head out of these shots because it was simply unacceptable. The outfit, admittedly, isn’t much better, but for winter nights in Boston it’s perfect. Fuzzy long underwear and a soft (and Delusionally-Grand and bunny-like) t-shirt are all I need to bundle up and hunker down in one of the few spaces on this earth where I’ve always felt completely safe.

There are a number of situations where fashion takes a backseat to function and circumstance, and winter nights constitute just such a condition. I’ll pardon all sorts of otherwise-criminal fashion choices when it gets frigid. I usually don’t share such moments, but since turning 40 I’m a little more open to revealing the ugly (and silly) truth about things, including what I wear to bed. And it doesn’t get much uglier than this.

Hey, when you know the rules you can break them.

How did we make it to December already? November went by in a blink, and now we are really in the holiday groove, and you’ve got to prove your love to me. Before we march toward the end of the month, and the end of the calendar year, however, I offer this quick look back at the Decembers that came before. Though it is our darkest month, there are glimmers of light, and glimmers of hope, to be found in family and friends.

Evidence in support of hope: this holiday card from 2011, wherein I share billing for only the second time ever.

The little drummer boy.

Red suspenders.

Babes & sundaes.

Brothers & Christmas trees.

Holiday portals.

Snow rose.

Snow kale.

This holiday tradition began in 2011…

And we’ve managed to do it every year since then.

Like a Victorian virgin.

Naked Christmas caroling.

A simple holiday votive.

Porny gay Santas.

Oh Christmas tree.

The madness of men at this time of the year.

The real reason for the season.

Pom explosion.

Once upon a time, I was this wee little thing.

Family fun on Christmas Eve.

Walking in a winter… you know the rest.

And if this still isn’t enough to put you in the Christmas spirit, here’s a naked Ryan Reynolds pic for you. There. Scrooge be gone!

Here we go! Let the holiday hijinks begin! Tis the season to be jolly! It’s also the season to be busy, so to that end, let’s get going with the traditional Monday morning recap. I’ve just returned from a weekend in Boston, so I need a day or two to regroup. On with the look-back…

It began with this miraculous Monday moon shot of Simon Dunn naked.

Even Justin Clynes had a tough time topping that, though he did his very best.

My Holiday Wish List 2015 was finally published, and all two people who will even remotely entertain buying anything off of it have been notified.

A new parade of Holiday memories has begun, with more on the way.

The old parade of Hunks of the Day continued with Aaron Diaz, Gregg Sulkin, Andrew Morrill, Dennis Nathanael van den Eijk, Aaron Lazar, and Sean Yeary.

Happy Thanksgiving!

One of my very favorite parts of the season.

The most important outfit of the season, in RED.

Sit on this!

You’re gonna hear me roar.

Do it until your hand hurts. (And then be prepared to do it some more.)