Archive for the ‘New York City’ Category

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 becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. Sometimes we think about what Manhattan looked like 500 years ago. When it was covered with trees and rivers and lakes. In some ways it was probably a lot more beautiful, or at least unspoiled. It was hard to get a taxi […]


In which The Gay Recluse wonders when the fog will burn off. Lately it seems that every morning we wake up in a fog. And we feel sort of hopeless, because even though logic dictates otherwise, we wonder if this will be the day that the fog is permanent. And we’ll never see the sky […]


In which The Gay Recluse considers the ephemeral nature of art. Today we received a letter from “the fictionist,” a Brooklyn writer who inserts “short stories into the surrounding urban environment: a construction site, guard rail, park bench, etc.” Hmm, that sounds kinda cool…let’s take a look, shall we? This reminds us of when we used to be […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with birds. For a while after college, we worked watering plants in corporate office buildings in downtown Manhattan. We worked in law firms, investment banks and other companies who generally could be said to rule the world. It was poisonous work to the extent that we were […]


In which The Gay Recluse exalts in the ruins of a scalloped pediment and self-referentially quotes an earlier post. This is where John McCain will be staying when he comes to Washington Heights next week. Lol. In Washington Heights we live among extremes of material decadence and breathtaking neglect, apparent in the crumbling cornices of […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. Step 1. The radar’s kickin. Step 2. New Jersey goes insane. Step 3. The bridge is serene. I, too, have an obsession with the George Washington Bridge. However, mine involves a nagging compulsion to complete a football pass from the deck of […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. Actually, this was yesterday. (We were so much younger then, we’re older than that now.) I, too, have an obsession with the George Washington Bridge. However, mine involves a nagging compulsion to complete a football pass from the deck of the bridge […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge. Clear skies. (Are the Olympics over yet?) I too had an obsession with the GWB when I lived in the Heights in the ’80s. Mine was doing as much cruising as possible under that majestic bridge. The “little red lighthouse” was used […]


In which Dante and Zephyr take over The Gay Recluse. Empty shell + stray kitten = daily heartache. Friends, not every cat is a lolcat…


In which The Gay Recluse dreams of the desert. This year one of our cactus bloomed for the first time. Apparently it’s very happy! We admire it, even though it makes us wish that we lived in the desert, far away from everything we hate.


In which The Gay Recluse says great, wtf. We’ve written before about the vacant house next door, which we’ve been complaining about for close to umm, 10 years. But finally last spring it was declared unsafe, which may mean 1) the city is going to knock it down, or 2) some developer bought it and […]


In which The Gay Recluse holds a contest. Sort of. We’ve been lazy about posting hot gay statues, but it’s time to take care of some local favorites that have been languishing in the submission box. Reader CBNY, who possesses one of the greatest photo collections of hot gay statues in the world, sent these […]


In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly dies of lung cancer. It’s bad enough when the smoke is spewing across rooftops in the distance, but it’s quite another thing when it’s blowing right through your living room window. When is the city going to get serious about inspecting these shitty boilers? Plus it’s getting worse, […]


In which The Gay Recluse introduces the pitcher plants. This is the first year for our new pitcher plants (Sarracenia). Flies, we have one message for you: beware! The pitcher plant will eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And dessert, too.


In which The Gay Recluse asks The Central Park Conservancy to rethink its mailing-list purchases. So a few days ago we received a personal note from Douglas Blonsky, President, Central Park Conservancy and Central Park Administrator. Here it is, with our favorite excerpts! Dear Matthew: I imagine you treasure Central Park for the oasis that […]


In which The Gay Recluse goes to the museum. Consider the old panels on the subway platform wall, and observe the finely wrought precision with which each strip of peeling paint has by the hands of time been distressed in the subtlest shades of gold and silver, all displayed in a collage with the glue […]


In which The Gay Recluse presents a gay alternative to this week’s Modern Love offering in The Times. Those looking for our quantitative analysis should click here. I grew up without my “real” — by which I mean biological — father, who lived in New York City. One summer I made the mistake of mentioning […]


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with MHCs (“manhole covers”). Location: Broadway and 161st, Washington Heights This pattern would look great anywhere, but mostly in the hospitals and office buildings. Whenever anyone asks me for something to put into a time capsule, I tell them not to bother. The manhole covers will last […]


In which The Gay Recluse finds a silver lining. We’ve already written about our bad karma at the 34th Street Station, which is filled with ungainly chrome columns and awkward ramps. But just the other day, we noticed an infinite wall of gold tile. We’re not sure why it took us two years to find. […]