Archive for the ‘Addiction’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse wonders why David Brooks is still in office. Ohai! We thought we’d play a lil game in which we pull quotes from three pieces about the exurbs, two written in 2k4 by David Brooks in The Times — “Take a Ride to Exurbia”  on the opinion page and “Our Sprawling, […]


In which The Gay Recluse questions his brand. When we started blogging, we didn’t really know anything about the internet, much less “bloggable memes.” Until then, like most people in our demographic, we had spent our time on nytimes.com and our “Yahoo home page.” But we quickly discovered internet traffic, and modified the blog to […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. For most of us, repetition is an unavoidable facet of modern life; we might even go as far as to say that it’s been like this as long as we have lived in one village or town or city. When we were […]


In which The Gay Recluse seeks to vex. Oh noes! It seems that we’ve upset Reader Arundel with our obsessive-compulsive need to repeat the same or similar photographic images over and over! Here’s what Arundel wrote: Hi. I forget where I first came across your blog, but I enjoy your posts and insights. Thank you. […]


In which The Gay Recluse watches French film. In Robert Bresson’s Pickpocket, the young (and kinda hot, in an aloof, cerebral way) lead is given to wandering the streets of Paris, looking into the eyes of men with whom he has the briefest and most exhilarating (but ultimately soulless) encounters. Surprise: at least superficially, this […]


In which The Gay Recluse needs a nap. We’re not sure why, but this has been the longest week in history. The election, the economy, the daylight-savings extension: all of it has left us utterly exhausted. (Or maybe it was the ten beers we had last night?) Today when we couldn’t handle it anymore, we […]


In which The Gay Recluse remembers his grandparents. Of our four grandparents, the only one we knew at all was our grandmother. And even she died when we were very young. Our evil uncle stole almost everything she owned, but our father managed to keep a few things, including this blue vase, which he in […]