Archive for the ‘Disease’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse resigns himself to the inevitable. When Modern Love first launched in The Times however many years ago, we were initially intrigued by the premise of the column, which like some of the best reality television seemed to offer the potential to break down the stereotypes that are the currency of […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with The George Washington Bridge. Time of Photographs: June 17, 2008, sunset. Today some guy called us a “pansy” on Curbed. Our feelings were hurt! Lol. We’re still kind of weak, but living in Washington Heights for ten years has toughened us up. The Gay Recluse is […]


In which The Gay Recluse suggests a link. The most beautiful ads are always for dead companies. Like this one we recently took on 35th Street between 5th and 6th Avenue. Does this company still exist? We hope not, because we don’t want to have to think about buying anything. New York City is filled […]


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: Was I on a Date or Baby-Sitting? Subject: For some reason a […]


In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly gets lung cancer. Date of Photographs: April 18, 2008 We’ve noticed that almost every chimney in Washington Heights is spewing thick, black smoke these days. It’s definitely a lot worse than it’s ever been, which leads us to ask: Does it have anything to do with the rising […]


In which The Gay Recluse scores selected opinion pieces in The Times. Paul Krugman/Health Care Horror Stories The Short Version: Health care is a disaster! (Barrack blows, vote for Hillary!) In his words: “You may think that this was an extreme case, but stories like this are common in America.” Score: D (Dour) We’re not sure […]


In which The Gay Recluse ponders random acts of beauty garbage. So yesterday we wrote about a giant-tote-bag-and-broken-sawhorse installation on 35th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. Today we are happy to report that not only has the installation survived, but that it has grown! This is facing west. We like the way the new […]


In which The Gay Recluse posts love letters from crazies. Remember a couple hundred years ago when Arthur C. Clarke died and we made fun of him for being a closet case? And how not everyone thought it was funny and we laughed at them too? Well, some people are still upset and can’t resist […]


In which The Gay Recluse does some investigative reporting and follows up with a complaint. As we’ve documented many times, thick black smoke — a function of improperly maintained or outdated boiler systems — is pretty much a constant of life in Washington Heights. (No coincidence, asthma rates are pretty much through the roof.) Although […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with The George Washington Bridge. Time and Date of morning photograph: March 20, 2008, 6:54am. Notes: Seriously, don’t these clouds look a little “Poltergeisty”? Time and Date of evening photograph: March 20, 2008, 6:54pm. Notes: We appreciate the black smoke, which is so good for our asthma. […]


In which The Gay Recluse kills two birds with one stone. Today we received a certain amount of shit for “trashing” Arthur C. Clarke as a major closet-case only milliseconds after he died. Fair enough, we trashed him a little. But our purpose in doing so — besides being an internet traffic whore, of course […]


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: The Steep Price of Our Forbidden Kiss Subject: A young woman with […]


In which The Gay Recluse provides a gay alternative to this week’s Modern Love offering in The Times. (Note: For Kayla’s response, please click here.) By KAYLA RACHLIN SMALL and THE GAY RECLUSE THE rules forbade me from being within three feet of her. I knew those rules; she knew them. Sharing a drink meant […]