Heaven Opens a Magic Lane

When all the world seems a hopeless jumble

And the raindrops tumble all around,

Heaven opens a magic lane.

When all the clouds darken up the skyway,

There's a rainbow highway to be found

Leading from your windowpane

To a place behind the sun,

Just a step beyond the rain...

Life's a Beach

Darwin's Grab Bag

Let's Hear It For The Boy

While for most people this post title probably brings to mind a rather gay 80s song, for me it's all Matt Damon on Will and Grace.

Holy Jessie Pavelka Batman!

Readers of Adonis Complex (or astute newcomers) have either seen me admit my lack of knowledge of particular models or have noticed it; indeed, the Adonis Complex blogs don't seek to promote or endorse anyone in particular, or usually even to be aware of that stuff - I'm just sharing the pretty pictures I've collected with what has grown to be quite a number of fellow aestheticians on the web. I actually have a terrible time with names in general; I can barely remember everyone's name at work, much less the men in these pictures whom I've never met and never will. And even if I was the Ken Jennings of names, I think I'm probably still just secretly jealous enough inside that promoting or idolizing those in the industry of physical perfection every day would make me feel very unpretty indeed. It's hard enough writing a blog about pop music when you still hide a faint desire to win American Idol.


So naturally a guy would have to be quite something for me to break all those habits and rules. In fact, I've only done it twice before on Adonis Complex, with James Ellis and Michael Radon: two incredible studs and incredible models I very gladly go publicly gaga over. And today I'm adding another to the list: the fantastic Jessie Pavelka.


If that name is sounding kind of familiar to you and you're not sure why, it's probably because his cousin Jake Pavelka is the titular rose doler-outer of the current season of The Bachelor. But even if you haven't heard his name as much, you've probably seen Jessie before somewhere (I know I'd seen him for a long time and when I heard a J. Pavelka I assumed, considering my ability with names, that the new Bachelor was to be this hunk (which is perhaps the only way Jake could end up seeming less than gorgeous himself: when someone who gets Jake was expecting Jessie). No, Jessie is actually the trainer on Lifetime's weight loss reality show DietTribe, now in its second season, and he's recently launched his own website, www.jessiepavelka.com, although if you're looking for more modeling shots you'll need to seek elsewhere, as his site wisely devotes itself mainly to the nutritional, fitness and weight loss efforts and communities (far more loyal than modeling fans could ever be, and a hell of a lot nicer too, so I don't blame him!).

One of the reasons I don't focus on the models on this blog or elsewhere is that in my experience, they tend to be, well, big ol' jerks, or at the very least, self-absorbed to a patronizing extent. Of course, when you're beautiful you don't need to be nice, and nowadays I kind of dismiss that as the nature of the breed. However, on the rare occasions that I come across a model who a. interests me enough to learn anything about him at all, much less get an idea of personality, and b. still appears to be a stand-up, decent guy with a genuinely good heart, the way Jessie Pavelka does (and I suspect five or ten minutes poking around the internet about him would likely give anyone the same impression). Plus, of course, he's hot as hell.






Jessie's Official site; Myspace; Facebook Fan page.

Mirror Mirror On the Wall

Or Four...On the Floor

I may have mentioned something in passing at some point about my affinity for a certain pop star whose name rhymes with "Split We Beers" (hmm, I may have just coined the name of a future budget brewery)...have I mentioned this? (Hint for those readers just joining Adonis Complex: Yes. I have. Several times. .) Well, as I was brainstorming a theme for today's post I realized I've done several three-fer posts but few, if any, posts of foursomes. Perhaps tellingly, I also realized once I'd selected today's quadrilateral theme that while photos of three good looking semi-nude men are relatively plentiful in my collection, photographic foursomes are strangely far more difficult to come by. It's not quantity, because I have tons of group shots with more than four guys, so I wonder why. Perhaps four falls in that little no-man's land of sexual fantasy between the threesome (a staple of the adventurous sexual mind, especially in males, throughout history) and the all-out orgy (a staple of HBO dramas set in ancient Rome and Stanley Kubrick films starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman). I guess four just isn't as risque or prevalent in the fantasy repertory (being a close multiple of two, I suppose a foursome has an annoying tendency to lapse into an often awkward side-by-side 1-0n-1 thing, which kind of defeats the purpose...unless the wrong people are paired up).


Still, the best part of Britney Spears' (there you go, for those bafflingly still unable to parse that preschool-level clue above) recent single "3," IMHO, is the end of the oh-so-Britney bridge, after Brit claims with mock innocence the way only she can that "what we do is innocent" and assures her lover that if he prefers some 1-on-1 lovin' she's more than willing to oblige: "let's just do it you and me," she says sweetly. Except she's not done, adding a few bars later "...or three..." and then, almost as an afterthought in the seconds before the final chorus returns, she adds gamely, "...or four...on the floor." At that moment in the somewhat maligned music video, the largely dead expression the blond starlet has worn since her marriage and return to white trashdom suddenly flickers with an almost infinitesimal smirk, a split second where her eyes connect and spark with the knowing mixture of innocence and sexuality that made Britney an icon unlike any other beyond her music. I love that moment, because it's the first time since the fall of the Spears that I have seen an indication that there's still a trace of the old Brit in there behind the dead eyes, beneath the anti-depressants, below the sadness, beyond the conservatorship. It may never again show itself the way it once did, but by golly if it isn't reassuring to see, even for a moment, that there's still a crazy, overprotected, outrageous, freakshow slave 4 u in there somewhere.

Jacketeers

My middle school had letterman's jackets. They were not earned in the same way that their high school equivalents usually are, but rather through a complex and semi-secret accumulation of points (for participation in sports and other extracurricular activities, leadership roles, and academics, and so forth) and those who were chosen to wear the black and red jackets became a somewhat elite group (as elite as a group can be in a middle school with about 150 students over three grades) known as the Jacketeers. You know, kind of like the Mouseketeers of the Mickey Mouse Club (by which I mean the club of Annette Funicello and Tommy Sands - mmm, Tommy Sands...*Homer Simpson-esque drooling* - as opposed to Britney Spears/Christina Aguilera/Justin Timberlake/Ryan Gosling/Keri Russell. Yes, all five of them were in the new version). I was just imagining how a different style of Jacketeers might look, Adonis Complex-style. I'm quite pleased with it, as it turns out.




And look, Michael Radon (above)!