Category: Alabama

Love Is The Answer

Thursday morning and heading out on the highway to Alabama this afternoon, after I put in some hours at the office. I can also get on the highway not far from the office, which will save me a little time–not much, an insignificant amount to be sure–but it’s going to be smooth sailing….I hope. I slept pretty well last night; I ran errands on my way home and managed to get my chores done once I got home, and packed. I feel a bit tired this morning, though, so I hope that means I am going to be able to sleep tonight when I get there. I also just realized I forgot to pack some things, so I’ll have to go home and get them before I head out–but at least I remembered. It would have sucked to get up there and realize oh no, I forgot this stuff, which has happened before. It’s never pleasant–I’ve gone on trips where I’ve forgotten my sleeping meds and thus didn’t sleep the entire trip (most unpleasant) and been miserable.

Well, didn’t finish that this morning, did I? I am now in west/central Alabama, checked into my hotel and a little tired. I hate driving these back country state roads after dark, seriously. The last hour or so of the drive was nerve-wracking; it’s so pitch dark at night here, there are no lights anywhere, and it was a little foggy. I don’t know the roads enough to anticipate hills and dips and hollows and stop signs and curves, and of course there’s always some inbred in a raised hundred-thousand dollar pick up truck (but bitches about the price of eggs) tailgating you for miles before they can pass. (I think I wrote about this in Bury Me in Shadows; how spooky and scary it is to drive up here after dark.) I am now here and very tired. I may lay down in a moment and see what happens. If I fall asleep, so be it.

After I got off 59N/20E in Tuscaloosa (Lurleen Wallace 1Boulevard, to be exact) and as I drove through, I couldn’t help but think you know, Tuscaloosa is a pretty little city…and then I saw an enormous billboard reading THANK YOU PRESIDENT TRUMP NO PRESIDENT HAS DONE MORE FOR THE AMERICAN PEOPLE and remembered that beneath the beauty is the same moral decay and rot that’s been here since statehood in 1819. It’s really a shame. There’s an entire essay (or nonfiction personal memoir of being a gay Southern white man) I could write about the South’s pathetic longing for a past when everything was better2 because everything is so “awful” down here now. I mean, Black people can use the same bathrooms and water fountains now! Perish the thought!

That billboard, by the way, was sponsored by a church. Imagine how many hungry children that colossal waste of money could have fed. Glad to know there are no hungry children in Alabama–or Tuscaloosa, either, so that a church could waste parishioners’ tithes in a manner worthy of a Medici pope during the Renaissance. Cannot imagine why people are turning away from Christianity–and the Christian Nationalist fascist government that is currently being installed is only going to drive more and more of the faithful away. Evangelicals deny Christ every day with their words and actions, rather than bearing witness by doing good works. Faith without works is dead, after all–which means showing up twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday isn’t going to get you into heaven when your piety is only for when you’re inside the actual church building.

Someday I am going to explore my relationship with religion in a long-form essay because that will be just fascinating, won’t it?

And on that note, I think I’m going to go lay down now. Have a lovely night, COnstant Reader, and who knows if I’ll be here tomorrow? I certainly don’t!

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  1. Lurleen Wallace was the first woman elected governor of Alabama. It wasn’t as big of a deal as it should have been because she was also George Wallace’s first wife, and back then a governor of Alabama couldn’t succeed himself. She ran in his place and won. It was all for naught, though, as she died of cancer one year into her term as “governor.” But tell us about the corruption in blue states again? ↩︎
  2. NARRATOR VOICE: It was, in fact, not based in reality. ↩︎

Shake It

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills morning, and hopefully I won’t be as tired today as I was yesterday. I feel like I slept really well last night, and I don’t feel either tired or foggy-brained this morning. Since I’m driving tomorrow to Alabama after work, I am very relieved to have slept well. There really is nothing like a good night’s sleep, is there? I made it home from work in one piece, worked on some chores for a while, and then collapsed into my easy chair to watch more episodes of Arrested Development (we were only going to watch one, and turned it off after three). It feels good to laugh, you know? I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a good belly laugh, you know? But my word, I was tired when my raggedy ass dragged itself into the Lost Apartment. It’s been a hot minute since I was that tired.

I was tired all day yesterday after the shock of waking up to no power1 and no coffee and thus no usual morning routine before work. I don’t usually drink the coffee at work (I have some at home, and then bring another cup with me to work that I drink the rest of the morning), but did yesterday and yes, it was just as bad as I anticipated it would be, and only could choke down two cups of it. The end result was under-caffeination, plus I couldn’t really fall back asleep after waking at four thirty, knowing I might sleep through since my alarm wasn’t going to go off. AUGH. But I persevered and persisted, and managed to make it home in one piece. I did start the laundry, and tonight I’ll have to pack since I am leaving work early to head north on 59. I’m looking forward to seeing Dad again, and it’s always a bit weird (and inspiring) to spend time up there where we’re from. I don’t think I’m going to write another Alabama book for a while–I have several others in queue waiting to be written–but there are short stories and other things that can be written until I’m ready for the next Alabama book. Even the short story I am working on is an Alabama story. I have to run errands on the way home tonight, do some chores when I do get home, and I also have to pack.

They caught Scrim!

For those of you who don’t know Scrim, he’s a rescue dog that caught everyone in New Orleans’ fancy when he escaped the first time, going on the run for months. There was even a Facebook group for updates and sightings; it was the kind of fun thing that will capture everyone’s attention. Everyone was delighted when the adorable little scamp was caught that first time–but he escaped again less than a week later, only to finally be caught again yesterday morning. You can read more about him here. I definitely have to write Scrim into a Scotty book–and if not Scrim, a similar, but fictional, escape artist puppy. There’s literally so much material here; I don’t know how anyone writing about New Orleans could ever run out of things to say about this marvelous magical city. I do think New Orleans won the Super Bowl; everyone seemed to have a great time, and I actually really appreciated the focus on New Orleans artists. The pregame and halftime shows, which I’ve now viewed on Youtube, definitely made a statement–but I fear that should another hurricane disaster occur here while it is still president he won’t authorize aid or help for us because New Orleans represents everything he hates: majority Black, majority vote for Democrats in ever election (and it’s not even remotely close), and now we put on a show for him that he didn’t like? Yeah, he hates our city now, guaranteed. Hopefully it means he’ll never come back here, praise Jesus, but it doesn’t bode well for disaster relief in the future…but I am glad we didn’t buckle under and obey in advance like so many quislings are doing.

I also have to pick a book to listen to in the car. Maybe the latest Carol Goodman? The Lev Rosen I started reading? I guess I could check what I have on audio and haven’t listened to yet–turns out there’s a lot there, including some short ones. If I don’t finish the second one I listen to (if I go with two shorter ones) I can finish while cleaning or something. I don’t know, but I will figure it out. Decisions, decisions. I am also hoping to stop at Whataburger in Tuscaloosa on the way, too. Ah, I am so easy to please, aren’t I?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday and I will check in with you again later.

  1. Yes, a minor inconvenience that I treat like a war crime; well aware. ↩︎

I Just Wanna Stop

Tuesday and Payday Eve. I woke up this morning around four thirty–that sense that something was off, somehow; I glanced at my clock and it was dark. Paul was listening to music on his phone and working on his laptop–and had a candle lit. Yes, the power was out, so when I did get up there was no coffee for me, I had to pack my lunch in the dark as well as get dressed in the dark, and the lack of coffee doesn’t bode well for the rest of the day, either. I was correct about being tired when I got off work and ran my errands; I was incorrect about traffic on the way to run my errands. 10 was backed up the worst I’d ever seen it, but this was due to an accident and not just heavy traffic. Once I got past the accident–it was in the center lane, just past the Orleans Avenue on-and-off ramps–it was clear sailing all the way onto the ramp to Claiborne Avenue, and it was smooth and easy after that. I worked on a short story for a bit, cuddled with Sparky, and Paul and I watched a few episodes of Arrested Development before I went to bed without cleaning the kitchen; I’ll have to do that when I get home tonight. I also should do a load of laundry. Sigh, it never ends.

I was also deeply amused by all the white people (read: racist pieces of shit and who they voted for) bitching everywhere about the Super Bowl half-time show. I didn’t watch the game–I even got the final score wrong when I posted it yesterday morning (but that WAS the score when I checked with almost two minutes left in the game)–but discourse was everywhere yesterday morning. I read some of the explanations and deep-dives into the performance, and so I wanted to watch it for myself, so I did last night before I went to bed. Wow, white people, way to miss the point completely. I’m sorry the show was too smart for you, and it probably made you squirm a little bit. Guess what? That’s what art does. I watched twice–once for the visuals, and the second time with the captioning on so I could catch what he was saying–and yes, it was absolutely amazing, and if you hated it because you couldn’t understand it, and the imagery and symbolism was too much for you, that’s a you thing. I’ve never understood people who think they’ve learned all they need to know once they’ve finished school, you know? My views and opinions are always shifting and changing because of new information. But…I am also an artist, and I cannot imagine calcifying my brain if I want to keep on making new art? But it was an act of defiance, as well; a big middle-finger to the Felon-in-Chief, and it was also, for me, the first moment of pride I’ve felt in this country since the election. It was a motherfucking breath of fresh air in the midst of all the foul toxicity rammed down our throats since November, and gave me a bit of hope that somehow we’ll get through this mess–but there will be a reckoning. Just like Bush II’s second term, they’ve way overplayed their hand.

And incidentally, I wonder if the halftime show was “family friendly” enough for the Louisiana legislature? No crotches were grabbed, no twerking, and no thongs or bouncing breasts or anything. (I am sure they didn’t approve of it anyway.)

And sorry, Chiefs and Travis Kelce–everything he touches dies. Was it an honor to play in front of a man who constantly attacks your girlfriend publicly all the time? And afterwards? Did you still think it was an honor when he tweeted about her being booed during the game? You’ll never go wrong expecting a straight white man, even one of the so-called “good ones”, to disappoint you when they have a chance to be a stand-up guy, because they’ll cower and scrape and bow every time. How is Kelce any better than Ted Cruz? It really lowered him in my eyes, and when Taylor finally does leave him I won’t be surprised, or terribly disappointed. This is similar to Drew Brees working with the Family Research Council–you know, the homophobic racists? I never saw him the same way after that, either.

Travis is supposed to be one of the good ones. Amazing how low that bar for straight men is, isn’t it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Pay-the-Bills-Day Eve, and I will probably not be back until tomorrow morning, when I’ll have coffee.

Disco Nights (Rock-Freak)

Monday morning has rolled around and rather than regretting not getting more done this weekend I am simply going to be grateful for the rest, spending time with Paul and Sparky, and somehow managing to remain sane during these last days of the republic. Yes, yes, I know I am being overdramatic and am overreacting and need to calm down; how many times have I been told that (incorrectly every time, I would like to point out) over the course of my life by someone in an incredibly condescending way because it wouldn’t affect them so they didn’t have to care? It really does get old, you know. There was more stupidity this weekend, no doubt, but it’s nice to get away from every now and then.

I didn’t watch the Super Bowl, nor did I care too much, but when I checked the score last night with less than two minutes left in the game and the Eagles were up 40-14, I felt some satisfaction. I lived in Kansas and the Chiefs have been terrible for so long it’s nice to see them have success (like the Saints, Bengals, and Commanders), but…Patrick Mahomes’ trashy family; the Hunts (who own the team) are also garbage, the team name is offensive, so is the tomahawk chop (see also Florida State, Atlanta Braves), and they also have Harrison Butker, that horrible piece of shit kicker who hates everyone who’s not a straight white man. The Eagles? I love the city, I love Jalen Hurts (and what a great story for him, you know?), and one of my oldest and dearest friends lives there and is an Eagles fan–and she’s been ill; I know this will have made her very happy. Also: FOTUS was also clearly wanting the Chiefs to win…and everything he touches dies. 40-14? That wasn’t a loss, it was a humiliation. Remember when he showed up for the LSU at Alabama game in 2019? Alabama lost at home for the first time in like five or six years–and never once had the lead.

I’d definitely not want him rooting for my team, that’s for sure.

This isn’t going to be an easy week for one Gregalicious. I am behind on everything, am going to be super-busy at the office during the week, and am leaving early on Thursday to head up for Alabama. I will no doubt be exhausted when I get home on Saturday, but that’s okay. We then gear up for Carnival and jury duty, and finally can relax by the following weekend. I was very pleased to finish reading my book She Was Was No More (link to my substack review of it) this weekend, and now I think I will watch Les Diaboliques, and maybe rewatch Reflections of Murder (but not the Sharon Stone version from the late 1990s; which is a shame; she would be awesome as the mistress but the previews looked terrible). I worked on my short story for a bit yesterday, and hope to work on it some more this week as well as the book. I gave up on the short story I was writing, and pulled out another unfinished one that I think will work better.

We also watched more of Arrested Development last night, which we are loving. How did they not give Jessica Walter the Emmy for supporting actress for every season of this show? I’ve been a fan of hers since I was a kid and saw her in Clint Eastwood’s directorial debut, Play Misty for Me (the original Fatal Attraction), and of course loved her voice work on Archer.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again tomorrow, okay?

I Was Made for Lovin’ You

Super Bowl Sunday, for those who celebrate (we will not be) and for those who do not, Happy Sunday otherwise. I slept in this morning, and am not entirely sure why. Yesterday was a decent and easy day around here (I was terribly lazy, despite all my pronouncements to the contrary in yesterday’s morning’s post), but I didn’t get my errands ran because…Super Bowl. Traffic in Uptown was horrendous–turns out I was trying to run my errands during the Super Bowl faux-Carnival parade–and so after successfully completing one errands, I called off the rest and came back home. I did finish reading She Who Was No More (more on that later) and we started watching Arrested Development finally, and we are absolutely loving it–and it should keep us entertained for a while. I’m glad we never got to it before, because these times need comedies, and more of them, frankly.

I am not leaving the house today because of the Super Bowl, and I hope to make it down my to-do list this morning so I can, you know, get some of that shit done. It’s going to be a hectic week; I am only working a half-day on Thursday so I can drive up to Alabama for Valentine’s to meet Dad (a short trip; up Thursday afternoon and back Saturday morning), which of course means I won’t get much done next weekend–although I reckon I could take my grocery list with me and stop to make groceries on the way back into town Saturday. At least there are no parades this coming weekend to negotiate on my way home. Sigh. It’s about that time of year, too, and complicated even further with my goddamned jury duty the last week of the month. Hurray!

Ah, well, no sense in getting overwhelmed and off-track. That is not going to help me get everything done that I need to get done today, now is it? I’ve picked Lev AC Rosen’s The Bell in the Fog as my next read, and when I get this finished and some other tasks here in the kitchen this morning, I am going to go read it for a while. I really enjoyed Lavender House, the first book in this series, and I love that he and John Copenhaver are exploring what it was like to be queer in the 1950s. Since one of my future projects is also set in that time period, reading their work is not only intimidating but also a bit inspired; they’re so good it will push me to really make mine the best I possibly can–and it will still not hold up against theirs. (You never can write enough books to get over Imposter Syndrome; I think it even affects the bigger names from time to time. I guess I won’t know since I’ll never have that kind of career–which is fine. Yes, huge financial success would be lovely, but it’s not necessary. I am satisfied with my career and the work I’ve done so far…which really has all come about because I’ve just refused to stop doing it. Smarter people would have quit by now, I am sure.)

But I also need to stop being so hard on myself. My job changed, too, during the time of the surgery and the aftermath, and it’s actually become more intensive, too. Dealing with clients is draining, and so it’s not really surprising that my batteries are so often depleted after I get off work, and there’s always an errand or something to run on my way home, too. Plus, it’s not my natural body clock to get up at six in the morning every day I have to go to work, either. (I really miss the days of not going in until eleven.) I’m older, have been through some things physically these last five or so years, and so it’s not surprising that some nights I just don’t have the energy to do anything other than cuddle with Sparky and sit in my chair watching the latest in our mad dash to the end times. I really miss the days when the news wasn’t always a dumpster fire…but on the other hand, I can’t actually remember a time when it wasn’t. I just didn’t pay attention because I was a child.

And I think there’s my hint to jump over to the spice mines, so have a lovely Sunday, best of luck to those of you watching the Super Bowl (I will not be), and I’ll be back later on, I would imagine.

Time Passages

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and it’s Super Bowl Eve; aka a mere forty-eight hours or so before New Orleans gets back to what usually passes for normal around here. Sparky got me up early this morning, but after a sluggish start I did get up and now, after my first cup of coffee, am starting to wake up. I did sleep well again last night, which was lovely–it’s always lovely to sleep on freshly laundered bedding–and after I finished my remote work duties yesterday, spent the rest of the doing more cleaning and organizing and did some writing. This morning I have some things to do around here as far as cleaning and organizing are concerned, and a couple of errands to do this afternoon, and then it’s back to the safety of the Lost Apartment for the rest of this Super Bowl weekend. I have literally zero interest in the Super Bowl; the removal of the end racism from the end zones by the NFL–an organization that makes the majority of its money off the bodies of Black athletes–is the kind of capitulation to tyranny one can expect from the ultra-rich. They’re getting their tax cuts, and their money is more important to them than anything else. I think that an oligarchy was always a danger to a capitalist system; the great irony is that was the preachings of false prophet and disgusting hypocrite Ayn Rand; it is impossible for ethical conduct in a country that prioritizes the dollar above all else. Capitalism has even infected Christianity, but that religion has been a rotting hulk for centuries already by prioritizing political and earthly power over spiritual.

It really is lovely having a working garbage disposal and a clean apartment; Paul and I even talked about how weird it is that such a little thing makes such a difference. The plumber also fixed the sinks so they drain properly and repaired the bathtub faucet so it no longer leaks, and just those little changes make such a huge difference. My kitchen is galley style, so counter space can be pretty limited, with the Keurig, the microwave, and my computer printer on the counters. The garbage disposal not working also meant the dishwasher didn’t drain, so I couldn’t use it–nor could I let anything go down the drain with the disposal because it would wind up backing up into the dishwasher. So, I needed counter space for the dishes to dry, and I needed to fill a stockpot with hot water to rinse the soap off them when I washed the dishes, cutting down on counter space because I had to put a beach towel down for them to dry on. This snowballed, made me feel like the apartment was getting smaller and closing in, and that it was pointless to even try to keep the house neat because it didn’t take very much for it to look like a disaster.

But finally–we’re getting it back together and it feels quite marvelous, in all honesty, to come downstairs to a clean, empty sink and nothing on the counters.

It’s been in the upper seventies/low eighties this entire week–which says everything about New Orleans weather; just a few weeks ago we had a blizzard and the city shut down for like three days–but here we are, having great weather for all the tourists here for the Super Bowl, which I am not going to watch. We did watch LSU Gymnastics defeat Alabama last night, and after that we watched this week’s Prime Target, which we are really enjoying–but we should have waited until we could binge it, as my short term memory problems mean I easily lose the plot thread from week to week. I hate losing my short term memory like this, but what else am I going to do but deal with it and come up with work-arounds? (LOL, I am realizing now that I have anxiety medications that my life has always been about finding work-arounds!) But I am feeling better these days, and here’s hoping that will continue as we move forward and despite the dumpster fire the country is gradually turning into. Thanks again, MAGA voters! But today I am going to clean and write and run my errands and try to finish reading my book and get things checked off my to-do list. I’m hoping for a good day, like yesterday was, and I don’t think that’s a whole lot to ask, you know?

And now I am taking my coffee and my peanut butter toast to the easy chair to read for a couple of hours. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back, either later or tomorrow.

I Just Fall in Love Again

Thursday morning and my last day in the office this week, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. I was tired yesterday, but I did get some writing done last night. I finished the revision of the chapter, and now have two more to get done before I can right the next third. It’s going to need to be gone over again, but not right now. It also kind of felt good to be writing it again, and last night was the most I’ve done in a sitting on this book since before the blizzard disruption/distraction. The blizzard was actually rather magical, perhaps the best thing that’s happened this year, and it really was nice going into that bubble for those days–tuning out and just chilling in the cozy snug warmth of the inside while it was bitterly cold outside. Every time I looked out my windows I was captivated by it, seeing it swirling and twirling in such vast amounts with just the ancient glass separating me from the chill outside. Next weekend I am going up to Alabama to meet Dad; its been two years now, wow. That’ll be yet another distraction, and then it’s Carnival and jury duty. Jesús Cristo! That’s a jam-packed month, isn’t it?

I’ve also got to do my part in the ongoing fight against this illegitimate regime, so I need to take down time and rest when I can, all the while writing a book and working full-time. I’m really not the brightest, am I? And this is me slowed way down. I was thinking the other night that I want to finish at least two more books this year; which is kind of insane? I don’t know. I used to do three or four per year, I think. I definitely don’t think that is possible for me anymore. But at least I am thinking in terms of writing again, which up until recently boiled down to I probably should write today and then not doing it. I think that my mind isn’t as creative anymore when I am not actively writing, and so when I am writing the floodgates in my mind open and suddenly I am getting ideas about future projects and stories and essays and…you see how it works around here.

I barely slept at all last night, drifting in and out of a shallow state for the entire night. I feel rested physically, but also a little like I am operating in accessory and draining my batteries by the minute. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s how I feel. I am going to be very tired this afternoon when I get off work, and fortunately I have no errands to run that cannot wait until the morrow. I did pick up my copy of the new William Boyle on the way home from the office yesterday, and I am hoping that tonight I’ll at least have enough focus to read some more of my book, which I want to finish by the end of the weekend if not sooner. I am still not feeling tired yet, but I know that’s going to land on me like a ton of bricks this afternoon to the point where I will be so tired I am almost in tears. I hate feeling that way, but the plumber is also coming to the apartment today (Paul’s working remotely) to fix the bathroom shower and the garbage disposal, so I can start using the dishwasher again, which will save me some time every day and free up counter space. Huzzah! I think I’m going to work on the kitchen some more this weekend, try to make it more efficient and easier to use.

I know I want to wash the car this weekend for sure.

Oh, and Idaho has petitioned the Supreme Court to overturn Obergefell and overturn same-sex marriage. Hmmm, where’s all that fucking trash that told me repeatedly I was “overreacting” and “no one’s coming for gay marriage.” Fuck off forever and drink some bleach with some ground glass added to it, garbage people. Gargle it before you swallow, while you’re at it. I am so tired of being told that fighting for my rights and those of my community aren’t as “important” and to “be patient for a little longer” while those courting our votes don’t lift a fucking finger.

But it’s also the Super Bowl this weekend, and while I am doing my best to avoid the whole thing–the National Guard is out, and I really do not like living in a military zone, with armed soldiers and tanks out and about–it’s kind of hard to avoid it completely. It’s definitely affected my drive home from work, as I can’t go the way I usually go because its inside The Superdome Military Zone and streets are blocked off; they’re even closing New Orleans air space around and during the game. I think they did this the last time the Super Bowl was here, too…but it was like ten years ago and I don’t really remember. I do remember the post 9/11 one, and it was much the same as this. I don’t remember armed soldiers and tanks last time, though.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. It’s also cool but humid, which means cool temperatures but it feels clammy, blech. I’ll be back tomorrow, most likely, and I’ll talk to you again!

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Too Many Rivers

I don’t know; I kind of love rivers. Can you have too many? One of my favorite things about driving south to Mobile through Alabama is all the rivers and marsh you have to cross over; kind of like how you cannot leave New Orleans without crossing a bridge1. I think my affinity for rivers has to do with my love of history; civilization depending on rivers for millennia. Would there have been an Egypt without the Nile? Babylon or Ur without the Tigris and Euphrates? Paris without the Seine? London without the Thames? The North American rivers had a lot to do with the conquest of the continent and its colonialization, too–the St. Lawrence, the Ohio, the Mississippi and the Missouri all were major thoroughfares for movement and shipping. I sometimes wonder if the home county was settled because of the Sipsey River, which drains into the Tombigbee. (It eventually drains into the Mobile River in the marshes north of the city that I mentioned earlier.)

It’s Monday morning and back to the office with me. I didn’t get nearly as much done as I would have liked yesterday but I also don’t mind. The rest felt marvelous, and I stretched to alleviate the muscle tightness from working out Saturday. Physically, I felt pretty good most of the day, and again had some trouble falling asleep last night, but eventually I did and slept very deeply and well. It’s forty degrees out there this morning (yikes!), so it’s going to be a layers day (the office is always cold) and I am going to try to run errands after work on the way home. Today is an Admin day, and I am pretty much current on everything, I think. There are some things I absolutely will need to do today, but it should be an easy one. Sparky kind of wants me to go sit in my chair so he can curl up in my lap, but alas, Spark; it is not to be today, at least not until I get home from the office tonight. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble falling asleep tonight, though. I miss my warm bed already!

Paul was out most of the day yesterday getting tattoos, and he didn’t get home until late. I was watching the Golden Globes, which was kind of dull, actually; as I’ve gotten older I’ve lost interest in awards shows (I used to enjoy the Golden Globes more when everyone got drunk). There are so many now, to the point where the Oscars are so predictable there’s not any point to even rooting for someone, or being very vested in it. I did read for a little while, wrote and cleaned for a little while, and basically just spent the day relaxing and resting from going to the gym on Saturday. My muscles feel a bit fatigued still–which could be frustrating, if I let it be; I practically did hardly anything, compared to the workouts I used to do back in the day–but I’m also a lot older and had to recover from surgery for over a year. Today I feel like getting it together–my life, my shit, my everything–so hopefully that will be my mindset going forward from now on. I’ll still have lazy days, of course–my tendency to be lazy always overrides everything else when I let it happen–but I no longer berate myself when I do so. That’s kind of nice.

It’s also Twelfth Night, which signals the opening of Carnival season for 2025. It’s also the four year anniversary of the insurrection that tried to overthrow the 2020 election; I will never forgive the voters for signing off on pardons for everyone who attacked the Capitol that day. I’ve tried writing about how that felt, to sit at work and watch the horror unfold, wondering if this was ushering in a new authoritarian government and the end of anything decent in this country (that’s right, MAGA, y’all are indecent people as well as traitors); as Paul and I say to each other on an almost daily basis–“thank God we’re old.” I can’t imagine how bleak it must be to be young now and to have absolutely no hope for the future. I will be stopping on the way home from work to get our first king cake, and I am sure someone will bring one into work; it’s a thing, you know, but since the season is so long this year I am sure we’ll get bored with king cake long before Fat Tuesday. We will be having Carnival despite the terrorist attack; “won’t bow, don’t know how” is our attitude down here, and we always hold our heads high even in the midst of tragedy. We had Carnival (abbreviated, but we still had it) after Katrina, and it was so cathartic; it remains to this day one of my favorite Carnivals.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Twelfth Night, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; stranger things have indeed happened.

  1. The bridges of New Orleans is a very fascinating subject, and they have an insane history involving so much bribery, corruption, and incompetence that it’s amazing that somehow, miraculously, they managed to get the job done. ↩︎

Somewhere in the Night

Monday morning and the last few days of 2024; won’t be sorry to see this year end, but also remembering to watch 2025 with a wary eye. Bad years have often been followed by worse years before, after all, and there’s never a guarantee that the new year will be any better. It’s cold here in New Orleans this morning, which didn’t exactly have me leaping out from under my warm pile of blankets. I’ve pretty much decided not to shave until New Year’s, just to see how white my pathetic beard will come in now. Usually it drives me crazy with the itching, but so far so good. Yesterday I ran my errands, did some chores, and then watched Hysteria! on Peacock, which is very interesting and clever in how it’s done (more on that later). Basically, I took the weekend off from pretty much anything except chores and errands, and why not, really? I’m kind of glad New Year’s is in two days; it’s a clear line of demarcation, and I can revamp my life beginning then, while lazily sliding into the new year. LSU plays its bowl game tomorrow, and I imagine I’ll have the football playoffs on in the background on Wednesday while I do things. I don’t really care about them, mind you, but at the same time I have an idle curiosity. I don’t really care about any of the teams that are in the play-offs, nor do I care at this point who actually wins it all this year. My money is on Georgia, frankly, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s someone else. I don’t really care.

And of course, Twelfth Night is just around the corner and we can have King cake again! I’m not sure how much of it we’ll have this year, but I’ll definitely buy one to ring in the new season. Paul wants to lose weight in the new year, and it’s not a bad idea for me to try, either. One thing at a time, though–getting a normal gym routine in the new year is way more important than losing weight for me right now.

I was very sad to hear that Jimmy Carter finally passed over the weekend, at the age of one hundred. Carter is the first president whose term I really remember a lot about (I don’t remember much of Johnson; Nixon I only remember Watergate; Ford wasn’t around for long, so Carter was the first time I actually paid attention to what was going on in the country, and what he was doing as president); I remember his election and how wholesome he seemed. He was the only president about whom I can remember thinking his faith is absolutely real, and absolutely Christian. It was during the Carter administration that my own faith began to flail and fail, and it was also when I realized an actual practicing Christian’s faith isn’t the best thing for a president to have, because ruling through faith simply doesn’t work. I didn’t vote in 1980, the first time I was eligible to vote, and I’ve always regretted not voting that year–I didn’t even think about it, and really, my wasted vote didn’t matter to anything other than to me. I voted in 1984 for the first time, and I’ve not missed an election since. I always liked Carter, to be honest; he was one of the few presidents we’ve ever had who was actually a good, totally unselfish person–and he went on proving that for the rest of his life, dedicating himself completely to philanthropy (walking the walk, not just talking the talk). He also was responsible for the Camp David Accords, the only lasting peace in the Middle East (between Israel and Egypt). Who knows what he might have managed in a second term? (Don’t even get me started on the 1980 election.) So, of course, since Carter was a Christian whose values and beliefs guided his judgment as president, evangelicals despise him1. Go figure.

Not really a surprise there, is there? Evangelicals hate nothing more than Christ-like behavior.

The MAGA war goes on, with a lot of “I didn’t vote for this” takes left and right and everywhere you look…but au contraire, mon frere, this is exactly what you voted for. We tried to warn you for ten years, but…we’re just sheep, right? Or hate America? I don’t know what the latest insult MAGA’s love to hurl at the rest of us might be, nor do I care, but I do know I’ve been sneered and jeered at for decades by the so-called “real Americans”–who are actually nothing more than the rebranded Confederates. (One of the most interesting things to me about The Demons of Unrest was how much sympathy there was for the slave-holding South amongst the Union loyalists; which made me wonder about whether the stories about Union sympathizers in the South might be true and not just revisionist, we weren’t all horrible people after the fact apologia–and something I am going to write about someday.) Lots of leopards eating faces on the right over the last few days, for sure….but the one thing that is going to get me through the next four years (assuming everything doesn’t go to hell and the economy and the country don’t completely collapse) is knowing that no matter how bad things get, I didn’t vote for this, and the pleasure I will derive knowing that those who did are not only suffering the way the rest of us are but they also will have to live with the knowledge they voted for it, gleefully.

I feel so pwned, don’t you?

I was curious to watch Hysteria because I really liked the concept and thought it was clever; it plays off the old Satanic panics of the 1980s (which I really want to write about); the murder of a teenager in the town of Happy Hollow leads a small metal band in the town to pretend to be Satan-worshippers as a way to promote the band. Great premise, right? But there’s so much more to it than that, and Bruce Campbell plays the sheriff, and Julie Bowen plays the mom of the band’s lead guitarist. There are several different plots running at the same time, and the way the writers have the stories/plots cross and how those stories only serve to make the other ones seem real…it’s very, very clever, and hard to get across without spoilers. Part of the pleasures of the show is discovering, bit by bit, just how deceptively clever it actually is. We have two episodes left, so they could easily ruin the whole thing in the last two–but we’ll be watching those tonight and will be getting back to you about the show tomorrow, most like.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely New Year’s Eve Eve, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back at some point, most likely tomorrow.

  1. Ironically, as a born again Christian who liked to talk about his faith, evangelicals originally turned out to elect him 1976. Republicans saw that, and went for the evangelical base–and the country has been the poorer for it ever since. ↩︎

Take Me Home to Somewhere

Sunday morning and it’s sunny outside. It rained off and on for most of the day yesterday, with marvelous thunderstorms bracketing the day. The sky is clear and blue and the sun is out, so I suspect we’re done with the storms. I slept well–and late–this morning, and I’ve already decided to let the day take its own course. I have some dishes to put away and laundry to fold, and I also need to run a couple of errands this morning. I do feel rested this morning, which is a good thing. There are only three days left in 2024, and while I would ordinarily think good riddance to 2024, I don’t have very high hopes about how 2025 is going to go for any of us. Louisiana continues to circle the drain, as our governor seems determined to destroy the state and impoverish everyone (but there won’t be any of the woke nonsense down here, you betcha!), and we all know Republicans can’t govern for shit–already proven from 2017-2021–and they are already fighting a nasty civil war between their Techbros and the MAGA base currently, which gives us a pretty good idea of how the next four years are going to go. Yay.

I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday, really. I rewatched a classic LSU football game–Paul was out with some friends–and went down a bunch of rabbit holes on Youtube doing research. Researching the 1970s is trippy for me, and being reminded of things I’d long forgotten about–products, commercials, movies, books, etc.–inevitably brings a bunch of other memories back with them; buying Hardy Boys books at the Zayre’s, riding my bike to the 7/11 to get milk and a comic book, walking to the bus stop at St. Dominic’s (and walking home from there after school), and reading in bed on the weekends with a bag of either Taco-flavored Doritos or Bar-B-Q Fritos. Research is research, after all, and opening my mind to recollections of my past–which was a very long time ago–is kind of weird, since I spent so much of my life never looking back. I may try to do some writing today–stranger things have happened, after all–but I am not placing any demands on myself this weekend. I have Wednesday off for New Year’s, which is weird, and will probably wind up having the play-offs on all day while I do other things. I still haven’t finished reading my book, either, and I really need to get back to that this week, if not today. It ain’t going to finish reading itself, you know.

And I can’t get deeper into the TBR pile without actually, you know, reading the books.

Memories are tricky things, actually, and one of the most important tricks our (writers on a grander scale, and people in general) brains play on us is how it colors the way we remember things. We not only remember how things were said and who said them, but we also remember how we felt at the time–and those feelings also color how we remember things. I am sure all people, once they’ve reached a certain age, are stunned at how differently our parents remember things from our childhood, and how little we actually did understand when we were younger. It’s also possible for those memories, colored so strongly by protective emotions, to change and become more embedded in our brains with our coloring firmly in place. One of the reasons I never bothered to re-examine disputes or disagreements with people from the part is because I know my memories may not be exact and are definitely have been rewritten in my head to make me the innocent victim, or merely confirmed that I am a terrible person. The first few decades of my life were very chaotic; one of the things I’ve tried to work very hard on as an adult the last few decades was to remove chaos–or agents of chaos–from my life. If you’ve either hurt or deeply offended me, I don’t want to waste any more of my time on you. I don’t want to argue with you, I don’t want to explain why you were hurtful because I shouldn’t have to.

If I have to explain to you how you’ve been hurtful you really aren’t worth my time.

Part of the problem with writing about the past and going from your own memories and experiences is that tendency to make one’s self into a hero even when you have not been very heroic. I’ve kind of always considered myself cowardly for not coming out sooner, for not facing up to who I am, and not getting it all worked out in my head long before I actually did. Wanting to capture that sense of having a dark secret that you so desperately want to share, wishing the world was different yet knowing that it isn’t and probably never will be, looking ahead at the rest of your life as it yawns before you as endless misery and self-denial and self-loathing isn’t exactly inspiring, and capturing all of this on the page from the perspective of a twelve-year-old about to start high school is going to be hard without making him seem self-pitying and kind of pathetic. My own self-loathing about who I was as a child is also kind of self-defeating; I need to forgive myself at some point for not being a good little straight boy because that was never who I was supposed to be. If anything, I should loathe the middle-class cookie cutter suburban existence everyone tried to force me into–a square peg into a round hole, as it were. I suppose writing The Summer of Lost Boys will force me to face those feelings and work through them by writing about a character similar to me but not really me, if that makes sense? I know writing Bury Me in Shadows helped me come to terms with my family’s history–and Southern history in a broader context; #shedeservedit helped me come to terms with my own high school experience, and so maybe, this is the last step to letting go of a lot of things over which I had no control that I’ve punished myself for most of my adult life.

Chaos is never fun, really. I’ve also always felt bad for people who chose chaos rather than cutting it out of your life. I don’t want to waste any more of my life doing emotional labor for undeserving people who are determined to hold onto being miserable rather than letting things go and living more positively–who wants all that negativity in their life? Why would anyone choose that? And yes, I am sure I am vastly over-simplifying here–many people are trapped in horrible jobs and horrible life situations over which they have very little, if any, control over their lives.

There are several books I want to write about my suburb, in all honesty–just as there are any number of Alabama and New Orleans and Kansas books I want to write…which is never going to happen as long as I continue to not write.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and go run my errands. Not sure what I am going to do for the day other than that, but I like having a day with no plans to do much of anything, frankly. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later or tomorrow before work! Thanks, as always, for stopping by this morning.