Archive for the ‘Sickness’ Category

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. Gay Modern Love Let’s Not Get to Know Each Other Better, Let’s Just Fuck By JOEL WALKOWSKI and THE GAY RECLUSE Published: June 7, 2008 A FEW months […]


In which The Gay Recluse is rather perturbed. Hey, apparently all it takes to win a Lambda Literary Award for Men’s Fiction — even if you’re not gay! — is to write a seriously homophobic treatment of a teen romance, get a bunch of testimonials from important straights, and put a smokin’ hot cover on […]


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: My Dropout Boyfriend Kept Dropping In by Lee Conell Subject: A college […]


In which The Gay Recluse is nonplussed. From our subway station at 163rd Street: We’re all for organ donation, but we find this advertisement rather too exuberant. Is this woman giving or receiving? Oh and another weird thing: someone graffiti numbered all the people in this poster. Seriously: creepy. “Awesome! I’m 24!” We’ve never seen […]


In which The Gay Recluse loves ferns and The Hills. This year we started watching The Hills. Everyone laughs at us when we tell them how much we like it. And how much better it is than Gossip Girl. (Not that we like Heidi or Spencer.) Everyone seems so upset by the idea that they […]


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: Instant Message, Instant Girlfriend by Roger Hobbs Subject: A nerdy but sweet […]


In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly dies of lung cancer as he becomes increasingly obsessed with birds. The oily black smoke of 100-year-old boilers disperses daily across the rooftops in Washington Heights, heedless of those (including birds) who suffer from pneumonia, asthma and tuberculosis. Officials and politicians? Not even footnotes in this story, which […]


In which The Gay Recluse tries to convey some semblance of the truth, as opposed to this obituary, written by Michael Kimmelman, one of the most notoriously oblivious critics at The Times. By MICHAEL KIMMELMAN and THE GAY RECLUSE Published: May 14, 2008 Robert Rauschenberg, the irrepressibly prolific American gay artist and rather typically homophobic queen who […]


In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly gets lung cancer. Time of Photographs: May 10, around 8:30. The oily black smoke of 100-year-old boilers disperses daily across the rooftops in Washington Heights, heedless of those who suffer from pneumonia, asthma and tuberculosis. Officials and politicians? Not even footnotes in this story, which is about the […]


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 takes a trip to the suburbs. Last weekend we went flower shopping and on the way back stopped into a brand new Home Depot that was recently built somewhere in Westchester, which is this large land mass north of New York City; sometimes desolate and sometimes beautiful, it is criss-crossed […]


In which The Gay Recluse sees you on the dark side of the moon. We’d like to put forth the case that the most random graffiti can be found uptown. Exhibit A: Spotted on the southbound platform of the 163rd Street subway station: The cock is stupid, but we have to admit that the Roger […]


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 again laments the suffocation of the gay voice in American literature. If you’re like us, when you scanned through the list of books included in New York Magazine‘s recent “New York City Canon 1968-2008,” you had one reaction: wtf! where are the gays? In every other format, gays are represented […]


In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly gets lung cancer. Time and date of photographs: March 26, 10am (ish). [We would have posted earlier but had a backlog of hot gay statues to attend to. (Plus we had to go to Pittsburgh for the weekend for a celebration.)] We’ve repeatedly documented the monstrous plumes of […]


In which The Gay Recluse rather quickly gets lung cancer. Time and date of photographs: April 2, 2008, 7pm (ish) Although the worst offender seems to have abated after we called 311 a few weeks ago, there are regular emissions of nasty-looking black smoke from almost all of the rooftops. At least when it gets […]


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 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: How We Got from Grief to Pancakes Subject: A woman finds a […]


In which The Gay Recluse reads a book five years later and says wtf. Last fall, after we posted our thoughts on the suffocation of the gay voice in American literature, a reader suggested that for the sake of comparison we check out The Yacoubian Building, by Alaa al Aswany, which said reader described to […]