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; […]


In which The Gay Recluse dreams of decorating garden walls and office spaces. While in Vienna, we visited the Secession Building. According to Wikipedia: “The Vienna Secession was founded on 3 April 1897 by artists Gustav Klimt, Koloman Moser, Josef Hoffmann, Joseph Maria Olbrich, Max Kurzweil, Otto Wagner, and others…In 1898, the group’s exhibition house […]


In which The Gay Recluse ponders the fate of empires. Prospective imperialists take note! Today you may rule the world. Tomorrow — just like the rest of us — you will have heartburn.


In which The Gay Recluse finds remnants of the 1860s 1960s. It’s difficult to write about a city of the past without succumbing to nostalgia, given the grandeur of the dead monuments that have survived and the (philosophical) certainty that no time is worse to be alive than the present. Some friends of ours came […]


In which The Gay Recluse reads a book of signs. One strange thing about growing up in Pittsburgh was that even before we lived anywhere else, we used to say that it — i.e., Pittsburgh — was haunted. But when people would ask us why, we were at a loss to explain: either you got […]


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 considers a southern exposure. Admittedly, we have often cursed the apartment buildings that face the southern side of our garden. In addition to casting a shadow, they are sometimes the source of crushingly loud (and bad) music and garbage thrown from their windows. Also, it’s hard to escape the feeling […]


In which The Gay Recluse lives in the past. Our favorite part of Thanksgiving this year was not the food, but the table,* particularly after it was set and waited patiently in the late afternoon sun. Accompanied by the cats, we spent quite a few minutes quietly circling the table, observing the way the light […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with birds. So today we read a most excellent post on marriage at Emily Magazine, which we strongly recommend (and not just because we’re quoted at some length in it, lol!) We have to wonder, is it a coincidence that the only two bloggers to link into […]


In which The Gay Recluse holds a contest. Sort of. We are quite pleased to tell you that our favorite art blogger C-Monster has recently been documenting the hot-gay-statue scene in Los Angeles, where in addition to the University of Southern California, some of the hottest gay statues in history have been cropping up at […]


In which The Gay Recluse microblogs. Jeannette Winterson in The Times of London writes: If you believe, as I do, that there is such a thing as a creative continuum common to everyone, it is not difficult to believe that everyone benefits from exposure to, and participation in, creative endeavour. Capitalism has doomed most people […]


In which The Gay Recluse goes to Broadway. Ohai, so did anyone else see these crazy new storefronts in Washington Heights, on Broadway between 160 and 161? (We didn’t think so.) They went in a few weeks ago — during the middle of the night — and there’s still no signage or anything else to […]


In which The Gay Recluse is like, srsly, wtf? There’s really nothing we can say about Proposition 8 that hasn’t already been said, but we’re going to add our two cents anyway, just because it’s the right thing to do. (Oh and supposedly we’ll be eligible for a $50 gift certificate on Amazon.) Obvs there […]


In which The Gay Recluse loves Carson McCullers. Not long ago we finished reading The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, by Carson McCullers. Published in 1940, the book — as the jacket tells us — made McCullers (only 23 at the time!) a literary star. In the book, which is set in a small town […]