Archive for the ‘Conspiracy’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly gets lung cancer. Time and Date of morning photograph: March 20, 2008, 6:54am. Notes: One benefit of living in Washington Heights is that it’s truly like the 19th century, not only in the architectural grandeur that splays across the rooftops, but the daily emissions of 100-year-old boilers in […]


In which The Gay Recluse updates his informal but rather telling quantitative analysis of Modern Love, the weekly Style Section (of The Times) column in which openly gay writers almost never appear, and even less frequently describe a romantic relationship. This week’s piece: A Signal in the Sky Said: Marry Her Subject: A goofball straight […]


In which The Gay Recluse updates his informal but rather telling quantitative analysis of Modern Love, the weekly Style Section (of The Times) column in which openly gay writers almost never appear, and even less frequently describe a romantic relationship. This week’s piece: Me, My Daughter and Them Subject: A lawyer who sounds seriously bitchy […]


In which The Gay Recluse provides an alternative to this week’s more tedious and stereotypical Modern Love offering in The Times. “Me, My Daughter and Them” By Heidi Wendel and The Gay Recluse MY newest girlfriend, vintage four weeks, was spending her first overnight at our Upper West Side apartment en famille and didn’t know […]


In which The Gay Recluse contemplates an uncommissioned masterpiece from the walls of an uptown subway station.


In which The Gay Recluse wonders if Deborah Solomon thinks we’re impressed. (Because we’re not.) Usually we skip Deborah Solomon’s weekly interview in the Sunday Magazine, in which the notoriously harsh and arrogant New York Times critic tersely interrogates a publicity hound hawking a useless book about the latest nonsense du jour. But this week […]


In which The Gay Recluse considers a broken traffic light in Washington Heights. Glancing up, we were momentarily confused; what had once been familiar and comfortable seemed unclear and possibly dangerous. (Of course we took a photograph.) Is this not the story of your life, too?


On V (x4)

20Feb08

In which The Gay Recluse contemplates four uncommissioned masterpieces from the walls of an uptown subway station and finds evidence of paranoia, conspiracy and entropy.