Archive for the ‘Communism’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse refines his message somewhat.* According to Wikipedia, the rooftop of the Stephansdom in Vienna contains over 230,000 tiles. Some days we wish we could count every single one. *We published an earlier version of this post and later realized we probably should have let it season a bit. Oh well, […]


In which The Gay Recluse wins an Oscar. Recently we learned from US Magazine that “[a] few weeks after signing the lease on a $60 million Long Island mansion, [Angelina Jolie], 33, was spotted checking out a nice building in Manhattan’s uptown Washington Heights neighborhood Tuesday afternoon.” It makes us wonder how it came about […]


In which The Gay Recluse finishes reading Roberto Bolaño. Through the fourth part of 2666, Roberto Bolano’s epic treatment of many things, we were extremely forgiving of the many tangents and digressions that permeate the work; not only were we impressed by the obvious genius of the writer, but we marveled at his ability to […]


In which The Gay Recluse drinks virtual wine. Photographer Dino Dinco sent us an announcement for his art opening on Wednesday night, and — hey! — if we were in San Francisco, we’d totally go. Dinco’s show (click here for gallery info) includes shots of the desolate “cruising trails” in L.A. (somewhat ironically located near […]


In which The Gay Recluse dreams of snow. On certain days, we are made aware that capitalism is a vast, raging sea on which we are helplessly adrift. It’s not that this is exactly news; to the contrary, we have always known this, much the way the earth is round and the sun is many […]


In which The Gay Recluse orders Sachertorte. In the United States — except for the rare exception — there is a well-documented dearth of hot gay statues. Occasionally you’ll see a statue and think, “hmm, he’s a lil gay.” (Or she, obv.) Or: “Why is that guy’s head between that other guy’s legs? It’s not […]


In which The Gay Recluse goes to Paris. One thing that never seems to change in Paris: the booksellers — les bouquinistes — that line the banks of the Seine. These are the ones who operate out of those green metal boxes that sit atop the balustrade. Obviously this could never exist in the United States; […]