Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Soaked Sunday

Can anyone tell me who the name of the photographer who took this photo? I searched and searched, and I've seen this image on dozens of blogs, Tumblrs, forums, and Pinterest pages, but never with any credit for the photographer, and I think he deserves some. Also, selfishly, I would like to see more of his work.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Saturday Speedo


Congratulations to whoever took this photo, the boy wearing it, and to that lucky, lucky Speedo. (Although technically it seems to be a Nike, but why quibble?)

Monday, August 17, 2015

Random Shirtless Guy

I don't have any idea who this handsome young man is, but there are several people who use this picture as their profile picture on social media. I am pretty sure that none of them are him. 

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Sexual Icons Of My Youth: Leif Garrett





He may have been many people's teen idol of choice in the late 1970s, but I confess that I never exactly went insane over Leif Garrett. He was awfully pretty and all, and goodness knows that he was never afraid to put himself on display, but he was missing something, some vital pop that would have put him in the top tier of boys I lusted over.









 Put it this way: he is in The Outsiders, a movie that I watched practically daily for a six month period, and I never minded much when his character was killed at the end of the first act, and not just because he was good at portraying asshat soc Bob, but because, meh, who cares about Leif Garrett when you've got the likes of Rob Lowe, Matt Dillon, Ralph Macchio, and my ultimate 80s dreamboat C. Thomas Howell?  But, as I said before, he was super pretty, and if his music, acting, and personality never set my soul on fire, if I happened to see a picture of him on the cover of a magazine wearing nothing but teeny running shorts, there was a good chance that I might hold that image in my mind for quiet time later that evening.   I certainly paid attention when he spent nearly all of Peter Lundy and the Medicine Hat Stallion with his blousy shirt unbuttoned to the naval. 

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Blast From The Past


Summer 1992.  Ryan Phillippe in his first professional role, plays Billy Douglas, the first gay teenager in an American soap opera on ABC's One Life To Live.  Your Auntie Vera was riveted. Watch below as Billy comes out to Father Andrew Carpenter (Andrew Krimmer) while devious Marty (Susan Haskell) eavesdrops.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Lest We Forget...

Modern Hair Styling is a professional art!  (Forward-combed Booggie for me!)

Sunday, August 2, 2015

The August 2007 Sunday Roundup








A few days ago I was just going through some old DVDs in hopes of finding things to throw away, when I discovered a DVD labeled "August 2007." Back in the days before THE CLOUD was viable, I used to make room on my hard drive by putting everything I had downloaded in the course of the previous month on a DVD.  In August of 2007, almost a year before this blog made its debut I burned several thousand images onto a disc and promptly forgot all about them. So here's a sample of what I was looking at  eight years ago. Hope you enjoy.




















 Much more, after the break:


Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Every Day A Little Death

Here is 20-year-old danseur Célestin Boutin as Tadzio in a new production of Benjamin Britten's opera Death In Venice which opened in June at The Garsington Opera at Wormsley. That's in England, if you couldn't guess. 

The success of any production of Death In Venice rests on two things: the singer playing Auschenbach, and the dancer playing Tadzio. If the reviews are to be trusted, this production gets it mostly right. It might be pointed out that Tadzio has been aged up to avoid bruising modern sensibilities, a move that may make audiences more comfortable, but which robs the work of some of its bite. ( (From The Guardian: "The boy Tadzio is older and more knowing than in the novella, which makes the fiction less credible, but he is a winning choice. At least half the audience could barely suppress their drools.") As you might have guessed,  I'm not going to complain about Monsieur Boutin.  I fully accept him as an object of pure beauty to be worshiped from afar.