June first, and the start of Pride Month. I should probably wax poetic about the long struggle for civil rights for queer people–one that I pretty much spent my entire life witnessing (I was eight at the time of Stonewall; I don’t remember seeing any news coverage of it, but it gradually seeped into my consciousness through osmosis or something) and a lot of years participating in at some level. I sometimes wonder if I could have done more, or fought harder, or been better about it in some ways; if I could have done something more that could have caused a greater impact or advanced the cause more quickly in some way. I imagine that’s probably my own issue more than anything else; I always feel like ai should do more.
I slept pretty well last night, and I think I am starting to get caught up on that. I felt better yesterday, but got tired relatively early in the day and of course, had errands to run after work (I cannot be the only person stunned at how much the cost of groceries has gone up, can I?), and then came home to make dinner (I was very hungry, which was unusual but cool as I am usually not hungry after work), and then Paul and I watched another episode of The Little Drummer Girl, a John LeCarré adaptation we’re enjoying, if not completely certain we are following the story completely. I’ve not read much LeCarré; only The Spy Who Came In from the Cold, which was amazing and yes, I am well aware I need to read more. (I also would like to read more Eric Ambler, for that matter, and there’s some Robert Ludlum I’d like to revisit as well.) I’ve not decided what to read next, to be honest; probably something older is most likely; I have a couple of old suspense novels from the 1960’s I’d like to read, and they are short, which makes them even more appealing. I also downloaded another book to listen to on my phone; I am hoping that I can listen to it while doing chores around the house and/or walking to the gym (which I hope to start doing again). I have an eye appointment on Saturday in Metairie (yay) but maybe after I am finished with that and after running a couple of errands, can walk over to the gym Saturday afternoon and start working out and stretching again. I can feel that my muscles need to be stretched (badly) because it’s been so long…
But I do feel better today, like I am finally over the trip.
I am behind on everything, but that undertone of being tired never helps in that regard; when I am tired (exhausted) I always look at everything I have to do from a perspective of oh I will never be able to get caught up and feel defeated. The trip of course was a disruption, and now I have to piece together the many things I was doing and working on before I drove north. But with some clarity–sleeping well helps–I should be able to get that taken care of this morning as well as starting the incredible chore of clearing out my inbox, which has been out of control for quite some time. (Hell, everything has been out of control for quite some time.)
I’ve been reflecting about my gay life a lot lately–primarily because one of my many many projects are set in the past, which requires me to remember things from my life from way back when (“Never Kiss a Stranger” is set in 1994 New Orleans; another project is set in the mid 1970’s in the Chicago suburbs) and while I certainly wouldn’t ever want to go back in time–no matter how awful things seem to be in the present day, they were definitely worse in the past–it’s kind of nice to think back to what many people consider to be “simpler” times. The fact is the times weren’t actually simpler, we were just simpler and certainly more naïve. Maybe that’s just me projecting–always a possibility–and the cynic in me, when people talk about “simpler times”, always wants to say, “what you really mean is you want to go back to a time when you didn’t have to think about social issues because they didn’t really intrude into your life.” It’s very easy to not care about, or notice, things that don’t affect you–which is where the term “woke” came from, if you were wondering or have complained about it before–but (at the risk of making you think of campfires and “Kum-Ba-Ya”) we kind of are all in this together, and is it really so terrible to care about other people and how they are treated?
Apparently, a lot of people think the answer to that question is yes.
Anyway. I don’t think people will ever stop disappointing me. (For that matter, I don’t think I will ever stop disappointing myself.)
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely June 1st, Constant Reader.