Archive for the ‘Architecture’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with orchids. It is in the nature of certain people (ahem) never to be satisfied, which — depending on the context — can be a curse or a blessing. For example, I just finished a very delicious chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting (but not too sweet!) and […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. Today I finally read the New Yorker article about David Foster Wallace, which was by turns inspiring and depressing; inspiring because (and this is hardly a surprise) he seemed to genuinely believe in fiction as a means to reflect/analyze/transform currents of our […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. Today the sky was windswept, which reminds of when I first moved to New York City and me and my friend Mike were walking around the Lower East Side one night — it was definitely winter — and we saw what could […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. There is a pastel hue to the sky today that I haven’t seen since ____, which makes me think that summer is approaching. It reminds me of the sky I saw not too long ago in Vienna, although there the tones were […]


In which The Gay Recluse fears reactionary forms of propaganda. This is a blog called ‘The Gay Recluse.’ Here you will find words designed to provoke or stimulate or anger or entertain or bore you to death. Moreover, ‘The Gay Recluse’ is a fictional character written by another fictional character named ‘Matthew Gallaway,’ who in […]


In which The Gay Recluse retires from metaphysics. We grow up and are given a set of words that we use to communicate: ideas, places, things, ppl. But as all of these things change — as they always do, thanks to the passage of time — words that once seemed perfect become inadequate to describe […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. It’s often said that as you get older, time moves faster. This is undoubtedly true, except for when it moves more slowly than it once did. I’m reading a book by Richard Rorty,* who — unlike Plato/Kant/Schopenhauer/Freud/Jung — argues that there is […]