Archive for the ‘Decay’ Category

In which Death Culture at Sea breaks out the vintage gear. Until now, all of the Death Culture at Sea songs have been recorded with an acoustic guitar that frankly needs to be worked on a bit, and then we added distortion and all other effects ex poste facto. With this song, we finally retrieved […]


In which The Gay Recluse decorates the office. Today in my office I hung up a color print I recently made to test out a new printer we recently bought after the old one died. The photograph was taken a long time ago, if you measure time in hours. It was Friday afternoon and difficult […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with orchids. The truth is often painful and difficult to acknowledge, particularly when there’s no way to change it. Those who try to deny this do so at great cost. If you ignore what’s ugly about life, how can you possibly see the beauty?


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 Chaos Detective concludes his European assignment in Paris. Watch on Facebook. THE CHAOS DETECTIVE is a teevee series for the internet. “City of Dreams” is a five-part episode set in Europe. Future episodes will be located in New York City. City of Dreams (Part 1) City of Dreams (Part 2) City of […]


In which The Gay Recluse reads Roberto Bolaño in stages. In the fourth book of 2666, we are presented with something of an encyclopedia of the literally thousands of crimes (99 percent of them against women) that occur in Bolano’s fictional border city of Santa Teresa — modeled on the real Juarez — over a […]


In which The Gay Recluse watches teevee. There are times when we cannot believe how long we’ve been alive, and concurrently, how long — assuming a regular life span — we still have to go. Though admittedly it’s a thought that most often arrives during an afternoon meeting at work, it also crosses our mind […]


On Nowhere

29Jan09

In which The Gay Recluse remembers Ride. The opening chords of “Vapour Trail” are high and open, yet filled with same (phase-shifted) melancholy we associate with ringing church bells. To hear this the other day, as we plodded through our thirty minutes on the elliptical at the gym, was to be swept away with a sense of forgotten potential — […]


In which The Gay Recluse ponders Junot Diaz and the purpose of novels. Today we finished The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. For obv reasons — namely, the book won every award last year — our expectations were high, and but for the most part were met. In case we’re only the second-to-last […]


On Netherland

18Jan09

In which The Gay Recluse recommends a book about loss. In Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland, we meet a narrator “Hans” — a Dutch expat originally from The Hague — who both at the beginning and the end of the story (this is not a spoiler, because we learn this in the first few pages) appears to”have […]


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 holds a contest. But not really. Today we received the above (and well, below) photograph from Eric Patton of Sore Afraid. (Which btw we recommend for anyone — like us! — interested in refreshingly unrelenting pessimism, literary angst, truthful travel writing and related rumination.) This statue, obv one of the […]


In which The Gay Recluse lands. We finally descended through the clouds, and — while looking out at the approaching city — were confronted by two questions. Is it possible that we actually live here? And could it really be 2009?


In which The Gay Recluse remembers life as an indie rocker. After obsessing about the Hipster Runoff review of TV on the Radio for the past two days, we realized that it had sent us into a retroactive identity crisis. It was as if it were fifteen years ago, and we were just starting a […]


On Ludwig

18Dec08

In which The Gay Recluse loves Luchino Visconti best. In Ludwig, Luchino Visconti’s four-hour treatment of the 19th-century King of Bavaria, we are introduced to the king as a young man, but learn almost immediately — in what feels like a flash-forward — that he will eventually be dethroned by the state legislature for maybe being insane. […]


In which The Gay Recluse is annihilated by a soundtrack for the recession. When we arrived at Lincoln Center for yesterday’s final dress rehearsal of Tristan und Isolde, we were required to walk through a maze of corridors to find the Metropolitan Opera; this somehow seemed appropriate, as if to demonstrate the point that no […]


In which The Gay Recluse has a “special comment” for the straights. We’re obviously not the first to point this out, but it nevertheless seems incredible to us that our life in the city — as we approach our 41st year — is in some ways a tired script from a ridiculous sit-com. We’re talking […]


In which The Gay Recluse passes up the chance of a lifetime. Did you hear? Tonight My Bloody Valentine is playing at Roseland. They’ve always been one of our favorite bands. Loveless is a masterpiece; dissonant, propulsive and melodic, it changed rock, or least provided an important delineation. The way great pieces of art will […]


In which The Gay Recluse walks through the mist of a Sunday morning. Saturday nights can be particularly trying in Washington Heights. Especially now that it’s getting cool out, and you want to keep the windows open. But somehow a cool breeze at one in the morning just isn’t the same when it brings with […]


In which The Gay Recluse bemoans the state of the union. For as long as we can remember, our mother has (like us) been a bleeding-heart liberal, while our father has been a Republican asshole. They’ve been married almost 55 years. But then a few months ago, she told us that he was supporting Obama. […]