All I Need

I had a lovely, relaxing day yesterday of reading and cleaning, capped up with watching three more episodes of Sherlock; tonight we will finish that off and hopefully, there will be a new Veep to watch, else we’ll have to find something else. I am greatly enjoying The Sympathizer, am almost halfway finished with it so probably will get it finished today, which will then beg the question of what to read next. I’m leaning towards James M. Cain’s The Cocktail Waitress…but there are any number of other books in the running as well. The riches contained within  my TBR pile are simply mind-boggling; and it’s continuing to grow exponentially. Heavy heaving sigh. I also want to start doing some re-organizing of the storage attic today; that, along with some work on the WIP as well as some more cleaning around the Lost Apartment will probably account for most of my day. Paul will undoubtedly watch some of the French Open, and around mid-afternoon I will cook out for our late lunch/early dinner.

Another exciting day in New Orleans.

It feels really good to be so well-rested; and tomorrow is a late night at work for more–bar testing, so I don’t even have to go in until later, pretty much freeing up my entire day to get some more cleaning and organizing and writing done before I head to the office. I rather do think that three day weekends are much better than regular ones; the extra day off is really lovely. I wish there was a way I could rearrange my schedule to work four ten hour days and take a three day weekend every weekend….but that’s just not possible, alas. It would be lovely, though, wouldn’t it?

At least this will be a short work week.

The Sympathizer is, while a bit hard to get into at first, quite compelling. The first book to win both an Edgar (Best First Novel) and the Pulitzer Prize, it’s also the first time I’ve read about Vietnam from the perspective of a Vietnamese–which is certainly rather American of me, isn’t it? Everything I’ve read about Vietnam has been from the perspective of Westerners–from Graham Greene’s The Quiet American through Philip Caputo’s A Rumor of War; and certainly the Western/white gaze has been pretty aptly explored on film and television (I should rewatch China Beach again); but this view, from a character who is not only Vietnamese, but a Viet Cong undercover operative implanted in the staff of a South Vietnamese general–to the point of also evacuating and spying on the refugee community in Southern California–is quite interesting. (I also have a copy of Vu Tran’s Dragonfish, which I am looking forward to reading.) I had an idea for a noir centered around a young man of Vietnamese/American mixed heritage, set in a small town on either the Gulf Coast of Alabama or Florida–writing this would require a LOT of research, obviously–but I think it could be interesting, and certainly would be fun to write.

But I need to get this revision done by the end of June, so I can spend the rest of the summer writing the next Scotty book.

Heavy heaving sigh.

And on that note, back to the spice mines.

Here’s a Memorial Day hunk for you.

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One Less Bell to Answer

Last night was the best night of sleep I’ve had in at least a week; I slept for nearly ten hours, uninterrupted and deeply. This morning I do not feel groggy or like I need to go back to sleep at any time soon; which is an absolutely lovely feeling. I was very tired yesterday–the gym, errands in the heat, a week of feeling groggy and unrested–and also in the mail yesterday I received a bottle of pillow spray from a company called ThisWorks: a pillow spray that the posher airlines pass out to their first class cabin travelers to help them sleep. I sprayed my pillow lightly with it last night before i took to my bed, and along with my usual sleep assistants I slumbered deeply and well. Today, I feel like I can conquer the world, which is a wonderful feeling I’ve not had in a very long time.

Much to our surprise, we discovered last night that we’d forgotten about the BBC series Sherlock and there were actually two seasons (‘series,’ as they say in Britain) of the show we’d not seen; so we snuggled in our respective seats and started watching. I’d forgotten how much I love the series, due in no small part to the excellent casting. I read the Holmes stories when I was a kid–there was a Whitman edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles I’d purchased for eighty-nine cents and it was shelved with the Trixie Beldens; Holmes is so much a part of the popular culture that I of course knew who he was, and as a fan of mysteries, I felt it behooved me to read the Holmes stories. I wasn’t completely taken with them, although I enjoyed them–although it does occur to me that I may want to give them a reread–there’s an entire group of crime writers/fans who are quite literally obsessed with Holmes and Watson, and of course the terrific Laurie King has written her own tales, from the point of view of Mary Russell–and the awesome Lyndsay Faye has as well (I really need to read both King and Faye; I love King’s Kate Martinelli series, and Lyndsay is one of my favorite people on the planet).

So many books, so little time.

I was so tired yesterday that I didn’t get as much cleaning done as I would like, so I am going to try to do that today around some revising and rewriting. I am itching to get to the WIP, and to possibly finish “Quiet Desperation” and send it out into the world. My goal is to get the revision of the WIP finished by the end of June as well as to get at least three short stories finished in that same amount of time; that’s quite a lot of work, but I also know I can do it. I also want to get more reading done. Reading is crucial to being a writer; I am always amazed at aspiring writers who claim they don’t read. A love of reading, at least for me, is integral to my wanting to be a writer in the first place; I love books, and everything about them. (Which reminds me, I need to get a library card.)

Also on the agenda for this weekend (probably tomorrow) is reading the manual for my car and teaching myself how to use all of its tricks. I’ve slowly figured out some of them, but it seems silly to have a car that has functions I don’t use because I don’t know how to when all I have to do is read the damned manual and then sit in the car and go over them all. Heavy sigh. I even forgot–until I got the manual out of the glove box yesterday–that the car has a CD player (seeing the CD’s in the glovebox–both by Fleetwood Mac–reminded me).

And on that note, it’s back to the spice mines with me.

Here’s a Sunday hunk for you.

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Big Yellow Taxi

Christ, it’s hot. I think this is the first day so far this year where it’s been hotter than ninety degrees and humid, and yes, in case you’re wondering, it’s miserable outside. I had Wacky Russian this morning, then ran to the post office, the grocery store, and Costco. So, I am both exhausted and drenched in sweat. I just ordered our weekend treat–a Chicago-style deep dish pizza from That’s Amore–and if I didn’t have to walk to pick it up and bring it home, I would be in the shower right now. As there’s no point to taking one now when I am just going to get sweaty all over again, I am holding off.

But I am miserable, even in the air conditioned comfort of The Lost Apartment, as am still wet and sticky. Blech. But…that pizza is going to taste amazing, and then I can take a long, hot shower…then repair to my easy chair with The Sympathizer and some fizzy water. We finished watching The Keepers last night (color me unimpressed; there was such obvious editorial manipulation–which, of course, is always necessary in a documentary, but this was so blatant that it was noticeable, and it raised some questions that it never even addressed), and now will have to find something to watch tonight. I cruised through Netflix, Hulu, and Prime before the gym this morning, and while I did find some things of interest, overall nothing that was oh, I can’t wait to watch this!

Ah, well, we can always rent movies from iTunes, I suppose.

As I was cruising around New Orleans this hot, muggy afternoon, my mind went back to the stalled Scotty book and I realized that, once again, what I was doing wrong was trying to force the original story into the Scotty book. I thought I had figured that out already, and I did to a degree, but it occurred to me that part of what I feel was missing from the series since Katrina can easily be remedied, and if I go back to Scotty’s roots, the book will be that much easier to write. I imagined an opening scene with Scotty having lunch with his sister, Rain, at her house–which we finally saw in Baton Rouge Bingo–and thought it made sense to delve into the family again. As Rain is friends with some of the ‘Grande Dames of New Orleans’, it only makes sense, plus it gives me an opportunity to get Taylor into the story as well. I also need to figure out a way to get Scotty’s parents into the story, and it’s been far too long since there’s been one of these where Frank and Colin both were present–I had developed a  very bad habit of sending Colin off on missions and sending Frank away for wrestling tours so Scotty was all alone–and I want this book to be longer than the others, as well. I want to really get deep into it, in a way I feel I haven’t since Mardi Gras Mambo. 

On the other hand, maybe I’m not the best judge of this. After all, Katrina kind of intervened, and that changed the way I look at things…so it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that’s what’s going on here.

Heavy heaving sigh.

The revision of the WIP is also going well; I am very excited.

Oops! Time to go get the pizza.

Here’s a hunk for you, Constant Reader.

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Last Friday Night

Well, I made it to Friday somehow, and am still sleepy/groggy/lethargic/whatever the hell has been up with me this week. But here it is, Friday, and I just have to get through today.  Tomorrow is going to be my crazy day–Wacky Russian, grocery store, mail, Costco, cleaning the house–but I want to get everything unpleasant and that involves leaving the house out of the way tomorrow, so I can just chill on Sunday and Monday–sleep late, read, do some revising/rewriting. I was going through the hard copy of the manuscript again last night–yes, I do it on hard copies, the old-fashioned way, at least first–and need to figure out where to place the new additions to the manuscript. Again, I am thoroughly enjoying this (I seriously don’t know what is wrong with me) but it is nice–I like this new mindset/approach to my work.

Last night we got caught up on Archer and The Handmaid’s Tale, and tonight we’ll probably finish off The Keepers. I keep hoping season 2 of Versailles will be available, but to no avail. After we finish with those, we’ll have to figure out something new to watch together–Paul wasn’t interested in American Gods, so I am watching that by myself. We are several weeks behind on Gotham, but we’ve sadly lost interest in it, much as we’ve lost interest in Supernatural, Arrow, and The Flash. I didn’t want to lose interest in any of those shows…and I kind of hate that I have. I’m sure at some point I’ll binge-watch and get caught up on these shows, but right now they aren’t “must-watch” for me anymore.

Sigh.

I also intend to finish reading The Sympathizer this weekend. I think part of the issue I’ve had this week is this grogginess has made me forget things I need to do; I am clearly not nearly as organized as I need to be this week. I have a to-do list, but my mind also keeps wandering, so I need to focus a bit more.

You’d think at my age I’d be able to focus better.

All right, as I am now boring myself, I am going to get back to the spice mines.

Here’s some Friday hunks, for Memorial Day weekend.

 

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Do You Know Where You’re Going To?

Thursday!

I am so incredibly tired this morning. I did bar testing last night, and am, for some reason, just completely wiped out today. I slept late, have had a lot of coffee, and yet am still spacy, muscles aching from being tired, and there are more clouds than usual in my mind. Hopefully, as the day progresses that will abate somewhat.

An old man can dream, at any rate.

I’ve been toying with an idea with the WIP revision I am doing;  it’s a risk, but this WIP is all about risk-taking and stepping outside of my comfort zone. I am hoping to get some serious work done on this revision this weekend; I’ve been so groggy this entire week I haven’t been able to do much other than think and take notes. Thank God today is Thursday; I don’t know if I could make it through this week if it were any longer. Right now I am praying that I can make it through my work day today and tomorrow so I can just collapse into my easy chair Friday night with a sigh of relief and get caught up on my rest. I don’t know why I am so sleepy/groggy/tired this week; maybe it’s the weather, who knows? (It’s been unseasonably cool, not humid, and gorgeous this week…which makes sleeping ever so much easier…and harder to wake up from.) I have high hopes for this three-day weekend, Constant Reader. High hopes indeed.

I submitted another short story this week to a new market for me; a place I’ve never tried before so it will be interesting to see if anything comes of that. The story is “Keeper of the Flame,” which is about as dark and hopeless a story as I’ve ever written–it’s really dark and disturbing, on many levels, so of course I absolutely love it–and I hope I am going to get “Quiet Desperation” finished up in second draft this weekend as well. (Yes,  am very aware that I am setting the bar really high for getting things done this weekend, when it’s entirely possible all I will do is drink lots of wine, eat pizza, get fat and read; I am not ruling that out, of course; just hopeful that a three day weekend will somehow help me hit my restart button) I also want to get some of my other short stories finished–“The Scent of Lilacs in the Rain,” “Fireflies,” “The Ditch,” and “The Terrortorium” all come to mind–but that is probably not realistic for this weekend. I do look forward to getting some of those stories finished, though, and sending them out into the world.

This week I broke down and bought a new backpack. Several years ago, I decided that I had gotten too old–had been out of college for too long–to continue carrying a backpack, and a shoulder bag would be much more adult. So, I bought a relatively nice computer/shoulder bag, and have hated the fucking thing almost since day one. I won’t go into the many reasons I hate that shoulder bag, but finally, on Monday night, after having another aggravating shoulder bag moment–not to mention how much I hated slinging the strap over my neck to relieve the drag on one shoulder and pressure from my back–I decided to hell with it, I am buying a new backpack, adjusting the straps to make it easy to get on and off, and did so.

God, I am so happy with my new backpack.

Really, it’s the little things.

And on that note, perhaps it’s time to get back to the spice mines. Here’s a Throwback Thursday hunk for you, actor Antony Hamilton:

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You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet

Wednesday, and another late night of bar testing. But there is a three day weekend looming, which is an absolutely lovely thought. I do want to get quite a bit finished by Tuesday; I’ve been lazy and lethargic lately–I’ve been sleeping so deeply and well that I remain groggy throughout the next day, which is quite odd and is taking some adjusting. I am still reading The Sympathizer, which is extraordinary, and we are watching a rather frustrating true-crime documentary on Netflix, The Keepers. (It’s enjoyable, but I’m getting a very strong sense of documentarian manipulation; there are some fairly obvious questions no one is asking, and there are only two episodes left; which means it is either entirely possible those questions may not ever be asked–which is unforgivable in a criminal ‘investigation’–and if they are not asked until the last two episodes, well, it’s audience manipulation to stretch it out as long as possible. Either way, #epicfail.)

I am also enjoying American Gods. It’s been years since I read the book–which I remember enjoying, but none of the details; I do remember the over-all concept of the book, which the show is illustrating very nicely. I probably won’t reread the book–my TBR pile is still absolutely insane, and I feel completely defeated every time I see it, considering it’s most of the living room AND the laundry room–but I do want to reread Good Omens, which I think IS getting filmed as well. I read it a million years ago, and all I remember about it was that it was about the Apocalypse yet was hysterically funny. I am also enjoying my current non-fiction read, The Affair of the Poisons, which is giving me such a clear picture of what life was like at the French court in the seventeenth century that I may even be able to begin sketching out the plot/structure of a secret project I’ve been wanting to write for over twelve years.

I’m also getting a much clearer picture of how to write/restructure Crescent City Charade–walking away from it to work on the secret project was probably the smartest thing I could have ever done; the book is becoming much clearer in my head, and I think it’s going to be maybe one of the funniest and best Scottys ever. Once I get finished with the revision of the secret project, I am going to be able to dive head-first into the Scotty, and am betting I’ll be able to get through it rather quickly (always a plus). I have another book I want to write this year, so am thinking if I can get the secret project revised/rewritten by the end of June, I can spend the summer doing the Scotty and can spend the fall writing the other book, Muscles, which will be my first straight-up noir.

I am itching to get started on it…but time. Patience, Gregalicious, patience.

Okay, I need to get my errands done and some clean-up work around the house as well.

Here’s a Hump Day Hunk for you.

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Vogue

I finally watched Strike a Pose,  the documentary which takes a look at where the dancers from Madonna’s “Blonde Ambition” tour wound up, and what happened to them. That tour was also documented in another documentary, Truth or Dare, which was also extremely controversial at the time of its release.

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It was ironic, as I reflected on watching Strike a Pose and how it affected me; what it made me think, and what I wanted to say about it on here, that I checked Twitter and saw a tweet from one of my friends:

A gentle reminder that using “it’s so much better than it was” when queerfolk are talking about their daily life is a dick move, “allies.”

The Blond Ambition tour was in support of Madonna’s fourth album, Like a Prayer (which is one of my favorite albums of hers; I’ve never tired of the title song or the second single, “Express Yourself”), which was enormously controversial when it was released…of course, back then almost everything about Madonna was controversial. She’d signed a mega-million endorsement deal with Pepsi, which was also geared to promote the album. When the video for “Like a Prayer” was released, people got up in arms about it and Pepsi cancelled the endorsement deal–Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” Pepsi commercial never aired–which only got her more publicity. (In an aside, I’ve never understood the issues with the “Like a Prayer” video; it was all about racism, and finding the strength through prayer to stand up to it–but everyone, as usual, got caught up in images from it without the proper context.)

I didn’t go see Truth or Dare in the theater; I rented it from Blockbuster when it came out on video. I had an enormous crush on the dancer Salim–he was just so handsome in the “Vogue” video–and as a Madonna fan, I was curious to see what it was like backstage on one of these massive tours. I was also–and remain–grateful to Madonna for all she did for the LGBT community, as well as bringing attention to HIV/AIDS, and being one of the first celebrities to do so. It was quite an unusual experience to see all these gay men in the film, so openly and brazenly gay and unashamed and just being themselves. The 1980’s was an incredibly difficult decade for me, personally–I’ve still not unpacked my twenties completely, maybe I never will–and the 1990’s didn’t start off much better for me. But at the time I watched Truth or Dare I had already started down a path to make a better life for myself, coming to terms with myself and who I was, and who I wanted to become, the kind of life I wanted. So the documentary resonated for me a bit; these were gay men who’d followed their dreams, and despite everything, despite all the hate and homophobia and prejudice and bigotry, made those dreams came true.

That was kind of aspirational, if not inspirational.

Seeing where the dancers ended up afterwards, some twenty-five years or so later, in Strike a Pose was kind of sad in some ways, but good in others. Being a ‘Madonna dancer’ was both a blessing in some ways and a curse in others, but they all seem to be doing well now, and it was fun seeing them all together–the ones who are left; one died from AIDS complications–again; it was also painful to listen, and see, them talking about their own personal struggles with HIV, the stigma and the shame–another legacy from that time.

Recently I was given the opportunity to talk to a retirement specialist, to help me come up with a plan for my retirement, and she was a little nonplussed about how “unprepared” I was for my looming retirement. “You should have started in your twenties,” she gently chided me.

I replied, “When I was in my twenties I thought I would be dead before I was forty.”

My reply made her feel uncomfortable, and bad–which wasn’t my intent. I knew she wasn’t being insensitive…but I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad, either. I was merely stating the truth, awful as it might seem now.

We all thought–no, believed, we were going to die young.

So, yes, it is very true that things aren’t as bad as they used to be, that things have gotten better in our society and in our world and in our culture.

But for fuck’s sake, that’s a pretty goddamned low bar–and progress doesn’t mean we’ve overcome everything, either.

Now I’d like to see Truth or Dare again. Strike a Pose struck a chord in me, obviously, and I do think it’s an important film…I’m glad I saw it.

NOTE: The Blond Ambition tour was also supporting Madonna’s album I’m Breathless: Music from and Inspired by the Motion Picture Dick Tracy. It was that album that contained “Vogue,” which is a timeless classic.

 

Monday Monday

I slept so deeply and well last night that not only did I not want to get up this morning, I am still groggy, despite many many many cups of coffee. It’s generally not a good thing to start a week off groggy, but there is a three day weekend on the horizon (HUZZAH!) look forward to. You’ve got to love that, don’t you?

I started reading The Sympathizer yesterday, and got about fifteen pages in. It’s quite good, and like the Whitehead novel, I suspect it’s going to take me a while to get through it. It’s interesting to see the Vietnam War from the perspective of an actual Vietnamese person (thus far I’ve only see the white/American gaze on the war), and I’ve been wanting to write a noir with its roots in the Vietnam War for quite some time, so this book is kind of a godsend. There’s also a very large Vietnamese community in New Orleans East, which I’ve also always wanted to write about (Poppy Z. Brite wrote about the New Orleans Vietnamese community in his novel Exquisite Corpse, which I should probably reread). The idea for the noir is still swirling around in my head; I have some basic idea of what it will be about and the story, but it’s still in that amorphous state. I didn’t get much writing or revising done yesterday (I did get some done, though. Don’t judge me.), but I did have a great brainstorm about the WIP, which is told in a very rigid, third person point-of-view; maybe I should show it from the occasional point of view of other people? I’ve made a note about this, but I am going to try to revise it with the point-of-view as originally seen intact; or maybe try one chapter in another p.o.v., see how it goes.

See? Revising can be fun.

I do want to get the new draft of “Quiet Desperation” finished this week, and I found a place to submit “Keeper of the Flame” to, so I am most likely going to do that on Wednesday, when I have a late night and as such don’t have to come back into the office until later.

And on that note, best to get back to the spice mines.

Here’s a hunk for you.

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Sunday Morning Coming Down

Summer humidity finally arrived yesterday in all of its noxious glory. This morning, there is rain in the forecast for most of the day and my windows are covered on condensation. I slept very well last night, and also got most of my weekend chores done yesterday so today I can devote myself to writing, revising, and editing. It’s very lovely, you know, to wake up feeling rested. I think there’s another load of dishes that need to be run through the dishwasher, but other than that (and straightening up) I have my entire day free. I am trying to decide what novel to read next, and am leaning towards Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Sympathizer, but there are also some other books in the running. I’ll make up my mind at some point later today when I need to take a break from writing/revising/editing.

Last night, I did read Megan Abbott’s brilliant short story, “Girlie Show,” from Lawrence Block’s In Light or In Shadow. As always with Abbott, I was immediately drawn into the story; her remarkable gift for choosing just the right words, and for coming up with new, extraordinary word choices to describe something that create the picture in your head perfectly. She is also a very spare writer, able to do things with a five or six word sentence that other writers would need a lengthy paragraph to get across. The book itself is gorgeous, with reproductions of the Hopper paintings that inspired the writers. It’s also an incredibly impressive list of name authors–everyone from Block himself to Stephen King to Lee Child to Joyce Carol Oates to Jeffrey Deaver to Abbott herself; it is actually an incredible honor to be nominated in the same Anthony category as this book, frankly.

But back to Abbott’s story.

“She went udders out.”

“No pasties even?”

“Like a pair of traffic lights.”

Pauline hears them on the porch. Bud is telling her husband about a trip to New York City a few years ago. Going to the Casino de Paree.

Her husband says almost nothing, smoking cigarette after cigarette and making sure always has a Blatz in hand from the metal cooler beside him.

“Nipples like strawberries,” Bud is saying. “But she never took off her G-string. And she never spread her legs.”

The story is a return to period pieces, stories set in our more societally repressed past, like her early novels The Song Is You, Bury Me Deep, and Queenpin. I love her more recent novels, that are set in the present day, but no one writes period pieces quite as beautifully as she does. I’ve tried writing period stories, but am incredibly terrible at them, and I envy the ease with which Abbott spins her tales. She gets to the heart of her characters is such minimal yet insightful and clever ways; almost like she is tossing off a sentence so casually that at first it seems to just be another sentence, but there is so much truth and meaning contained within those few words that the reader gets an almost complete picture of who that character is…kind of like the story of Bette Davis, trying to understand her character Margo in All About Eve, and asking writer/director Joseph Mankieowicz for some insight. Davis later recalled, “He just shrugged and said ‘Margo is the kind of woman who treats a mink coat like a poncho,’ and I immediately knew exactly who she was.”

Abbott has that ability, and it’s always a pleasure to get lost in the richness of her words, the textures and layers of her stories.

And isn’t it way past time for a collection of her short stories? Just sayin’.

As I head back into the spice mines, I shall leave you with a Sunday hunk.

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Another Saturday Night

Well, it’s early afternoon in New Orleans. I’ve done my workout, run errands for both myself and Paul–including the always dreaded grocery run–and now am home, a bit worn out and needing to hop in the shower. The humidity is thick out there today, so thick I’ve already had to take a Claritin-D, and my kitchen is a mess and I have lots of laundry to do. I don’t think I’m going to do any writing today–my brain is tired; that may change later, one never knows–but I think I am going to just spend the rest of the day relaxing, reading, and slowly but surely getting the apartment straightened up and cleaned up and organized; the never-ending struggle not to live in a slovenly dump. Heavy heaving sigh. I also want to get back to reading About the Author, and select what I am going to read next (although I suspect, having gotten two anthologies in the mail–Storm Warning: Chesapeake Crimes and In Sunlight or In Shadow: Stories Inspired by the Paintings of Edward HopperI may just curl up with some exceptional short stories.

Stranger things have happened.

We got all caught up last night on both The Handmaid’s Tale (which continues to be incredibly gripping while horrifying) and The Mick, which is a truly demented sitcom we are enjoying tremendously. I’m not sure what we are going to watch tonight–we’ve started watching the new season of American Crime, which seems to be about migrant worker, sex trafficking, and the opiod addiction crisis, and it really looks really gripping and good; I am really sorry the show has been cancelled. We never did watch the first season, so we can also always go back and watch it, but it’s a shame. Then again, a highly intelligent show about crime that shows the same crime from many different perspectives, with all the necessary nuance and complexity, without clear cut villains and heroes–well, it was bound to not last long.

Okay, some time has passed, and I indeed curled up in my easy chair with About the Author, and finished it. It’s terrific, full of twists and turns and surprises; and the author, John Colapinto, did a most excellent job of making an extremely unlikable protagonist, well, likable. I can highly recommend it; it still holds up, even though it is nearly twenty years old–obviously, technology has moved on–but other than that, it is so well done and so well told that you don’t really notice that sort of thing. Most, most excellent. I am currently grilling hamburgers while reading Megan Abbott’s story, “Girlie Show”, in Lawrence Block’s Edward Hopper anthology; it is, thus far, quite sublime.

And now, I need to go flip the burgers.

Here’s a Saturday hunk for you.

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