Category: birthday

Physical Attraction

Sunday morning and Sparky let me sleep later this morning than he did yesterday, but I think I might have been better off going back to bed yesterday morning instead of staying up. I felt worn out and exhausted all day, with little to no motivation to do much of anything. I didn’t write any fiction yesterday, but I did get my latest newsletter, about the Rick Brant science mysteries and loving Egypt, out, so that’s an accomplishment, right? I also read some–read several chapters of Love in the Afternoon and Evening, and a couple of chapters of The Last House on Needless Street, which is a pleasure to read–and watched some news and some World War II short documentaries on Youtube (I got sucked into one on Midway, and then I was down the wormhole: Stalingrad, Battle of the Bulge, Normandy, and so forth). I needed a down day, methinks, because I feel really good this morning. Listen to your body, Gregalicious, which you most definitely did NOT do yesterday morning. I also didn’t do much organizing or cleaning or anything, either. Like I said, I was just low energy most of the day.

Which I guess I needed to be.

We also started The Vampire Lestat, and my God, is it wonderful. I already enjoyed Sam Reid as Lestat from Louis’ point of view in Interview with the Vampire, but my God, does he ever embody Anne Rice’s Brat Prince to perfection in this. Visually and stylistically it’s impressive and over the top and everything Mrs. Rice could have ever wanted for her characters. The story is compelling, driven so strongly by Sam Reid’s Lestat that I didn’t have the same reaction I initially did when reading the books–switching to Lestat’s point of view was jarring; my mentality was “the entire first book was about how much of an asshole he is, and now you’re making him the hero of the series?” But I kept reading the series–I never read any of the new books after she returned to the characters after a few years of a break, and maybe someday I will, like when I have a lengthy vacation where I can just read–like Acapulco. But we’re loving this season, and I am delighted that next season will be The Queen of the Damned, which was what turned her into an international best seller. I joined the series when there were just the three, and I read them all on a trip to Honolulu before the fourth came out–which was one of my favorites of the series. (I have to say, though, that my favorite Rice novel, The Witching Hour, was extremely disappointing as a series.)

We were going to go see Spider-Man today, but when I checked the theaters, there weren’t many seats left, and I told Paul last night that I didn’t think I’d be up to being around a lot of strangers today–the lobby will be packed as well as the cinema itself–and we decided to wait until next weekend, or my birthday, which is two weeks from Thursday, I think, when I turn sixty-five. That was quite the run-on sentence, wasn’t it? We are going to have to go out today–theory is that it’s supposed to be cooler today after the rain passes, and it looks like it has…at least for now, anyway. I think I may even go read for a bit once I post this, and should read until the rain is completely past, which, per the local news, will be around noon–there was just now a bit of thunder in the distance, so that’s probably on its way here now. I honestly don’t know what kind of day I am going to have, so I am not going to hope for any outcomes and see how the cards fall for the day. (We need to go pick up Paul’s new glasses at Costco, which is really where I should get my new ones…hmmm.)

And on that note, I am going to get something to eat and will head into the living room for a bit to do some reading. So, have a great day, my friends, and I’ll be back in the morning.

How old is this picture? I wouldn’t have thought anything about it until I noticed his computer looks like an iMac from around the turn of the century. Maybe he is into antiques?

Love Without Words

Saturday, August 1, and coniglio! Coniglio!

Let’s see if that works; it did for Trixie Belden in The Mystery of the Emeralds.

It’s Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment. Sparky got me up before seven this morning–His Majesty was HUNGRY–and I decided to get up and feed him. Once I was out of the bed, I decided to get cleaned up and get going on my day. Yesterday sucked–I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say the a/c in my car still isn’t working and I need to take it to another place first because some “body work” needs to be done, and it really doesn’t sound cheap–but I am shaking it off today. I’ve never had to spend much money on this car since buying it and it’s been about ten years. So, let it go, I can’t do anything about it until Monday, anyway, and why let that spoil my weekend when I have free time, I still feel good, and tomorrow we’re going to go see the new Spider-Man movie. So, lots to look forward to, and today I am going to try to get some stuff done around here. I need to order groceries for delivery (too hot to drive there and back), and I need to get the house back under control again. It’s not that bad, but the last couple of days I’ve let things slide a bit. I did read some of my book yesterday, and it’s really fantastic. We caught this week’s Sugar, and I think tonight we’ll dive into The Vampire Lestat.

I also have those Emily Wilson translations to dip into, as well. And a newsletter to get out, but them not going out consistently has been an issue from the first, and I do suspect the only person I am actually disappointing with any of this is me, you know? But they are fun to write, and while I do forget things I wanted to say in them from time to time, and I don’t proof them as thoroughly as I should before they go out, but I am also not going to get anxious or stressed about them. Paul is going to work with his trainer today and then is going to ride the bike at the gym, so I should have the entire afternoon to myself for downtime, reading and writing and more cleaning. Why is there always more cleaning to do? Heavy heaving sigh. I did decide to treat myself to a long birthday weekend this month, so I have my birthday and the Friday after to accept that I am officially elderly. It doesn’t bother me (much); it’s more shocking to me that I made it this far, with so much stacked against me. Making it to 65 as a gay man in this country was no small accomplishment, but honestly? Pure damn luck. I made it through the HIV pandemic without getting infected–miracle of miracles, especially when it seemed so damned unlikely any of us would make it through with anything other than PTSD and guilt. (The guilt has always been tough for me to deal with–why me? Why did so many wonderful and talented and brilliant people die? And yes, I’ve been thinking about this since the circus the other day with Dr. Fauci, whose true crime to conservatives is that he helped stop gay men from dying.)

Maybe I do see homophobia everywhere, but you know what? That’s what it almost always is–enough times that it’s not a surprise when that does turn out to be the case.

It also pleases me to no end to see Tom Holland and Zendaya starring in the two biggest movies of the summer. I’ve always liked her, and of course, his lip-sync to Rihanna made me a life long fan of our short king. He is also one of the rare examples of a child star who grew up into a successful and always working adult actor/star.

I was also amused to see the Department of Justice and that pig Jeannine Pirro had to drop charges against “reflecting pool vandals” when it turned out to be a result of shoddy installation on a (surprise!) a no-bid contract for one of the Harkonnens’ friends? Everything the Baron said about the reflecting pool was a lie (as everyone with a brain and one working eye could see), and his minions jumped in line–against all reason, against all sanity, and above all else, against the Constitution–to snap to his insane logic and mentality and excuses. His supporters should never be allowed in public again without being shamed for the bootlicking quislings they are. (I laugh every time they call him “Daddy”–showing they are all fucking betas and will roll over, ass end up in the air ready for his penetration) Karoline Leavitt and Jeannine Pirro will go on to jobs at Fox, next to Sophie “Maga Skipper” (Barbie would never) Cunningham.

And when this is finally all over? Watch the centrist Dems try to close the book and “move on.” We saw this after the Bush Crime Syndicate left office in 2009, and way back when the Republicans sold out southern Blacks for political power. (They haven’t changed from what they became under Grant.)

What this country has allowed itself to become makes me appreciate that I am old, and I do not ever wish I were younger. Ever. And I wouldn’t go back in time even if I could.

And on that note, I am going to get some more coffee and take my book over to my easy chair. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

I’ve always loved stained glass. I played with it as a hobby in my twenties, but could never ever dream of doing something so artistic.

Sex as a Weapon

And so the nation turns 250 years old today.

Yes, it’s today: the 250th anniversary of the first signatures on the Declaration of Independence after the states’ delegates ratified it–the birth of our freedom from the British Empire’s Parliament and its King–and while the country as United States was not born until the ratification of the Constitution in 1787 and the first elected officials taking office in 1789, we consider this the birthdate of our nation. We don’t even recognize Constitution Day, which is the true national founding document. As an inquisitive minded child, I wondered about this a lot when I was a child…but it’s Independence Day, not Founders’ Day, I guess. It’s kind of sad how this, an actual landmark anniversary, has turned into such a national embarrassment, but that’s what you get when you hire someone whose only success is hosting a rigged reality show. I mean, he bankrupted a casino. Multiple times. Ah, well.

Yesterday was kind of lovely. I was up early, and got started on chores. Paul had appointments today, so Sparky and I kind of hung out and watched some news (hence the hilarity of the failed State Fair, Fox News’ pretense that everything was going just fine with massive crowds of people, but the failure of the fair has stopped all the algae talk at any rate). Paul went to Please U to get us shrimp po-boys for lunch (I’ve not had one in almost ten years, I think), and they were marvelous. I had some things delivered, and we binged a Kaley Cuoco thriller series, Vanished, which was kind of fun1. Her post Big Bang Theory career has been interesting, hasn’t it? We also started watching The Big Conn, about a criminal conspiracy to defraud Social Security (to the tune of over half a billion dollars), and the people that SSA chose to punish were the recipients2, not the people who actually actively pursued the fraud–the doctor, lawyer and judge who were in cahoots with each other–which is about par for the course in this country: punish the poor instead of the real criminals. And of course, there were two women in the system flagging it all, documenting everything and trying to get someone to pay attention to them–and they wound up punished more than the actual criminals (but the last episode must be about the trial of the one who didn’t take a plea). I’m trying to decide if I need to have anything delivered today, too. I didn’t read, but I brainstormed a short story that’s been sitting in my head for a couple of years and think it might be a good story, if and when I finish it.

I’m up early this morning–Sparky was hungry and wasn’t about to let me sleep late, the sweet little boy. I feel good this morning, too, like yesterday as a day of rest was a very smart decision. I regret not reading yesterday, but I can remedy that this morning, too. I can also get some chores and picking up done, if I stay focused and on top of everything. I did do all the bed linen yesterday, so the bedding felt comfortable and clean and warm last night when I slid beneath the pile of blankets. Sigh. I do love that feeling, you know. I also want to send out a holiday newsletter (more of a newsletter about the holiday) today, which would mean probably writing it this morning, too. I also need to do some filing and organizing, too–like always. But all I need to do is put my head down and stay focused and everything will fall into place. I’m glad I’m up early this morning so I can get a leg up on things–but the temptation to simply collapse into my easy chair is very strong this morning.

I can always justify doing nothing by rationalizing everyone else gets the holiday off, don’t they?

Well, yes, of course, they do–but they also don’t have a writing career on top of their day jobs, do they?

Sigh. I can always spot the flaw in every rationalization I make.

Ah, there’s the caffeine, kicking in at long last. Huzzah!

As I have mentioned before, one of my favorite things lately has been World Cup tourists discovering the abundance we take for granted and enjoying our freedom of choice–as well as the natural beauty and splendor of the continent. We do take our country for granted, don’t we? Sometimes we need an outside opinion of how the US appears to outsiders to remember and appreciate what we have here. That doesn’t mean we don’t have serious problems as a country and culture and society that need to be worked on and overcome so we can finally achieve the ideals the nation was founded upon–but we definitely need to stop looking back and thinking the past was better than the present. It’s also funny how conservatives–the original xenophobes–use those posts from visitors to demean and diminish the Left when we weren’t the ones shouting to the world that America isn’t great anymore.

And on that cheery note, I am going to get some breakfast before I go read for a bit. Have a lovely holiday Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Friendly reminder: it’s against the Flag Code to wear the American flag as clothing. There’s no rule against it being used as a prop.
  1. The big twist at the end was absolutely perfect. ↩︎
  2. For all the whining about Medicaid and Medicare fraud, the truth is the ones committing said fraud are doctors, hospitals, and pharmacies, not the patient. But we only talk about the patient. Isn’t that right, Senator Rick Scott of Florida? ↩︎

Fight It Out

Friday morning and the office is closed for the holiday today, so no work-at-home chores for me today. Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning and I definitely didn’t want to get up this morning, either. I feel a bit worn down today, and a bit foggy, but I’ll be fine once I shower. I was able to leave work early yesterday and run a few errands on the way home (my medication arrived in the mail; had to get another prescription; and pick up my dry cleaning) but I did feel a bit wrung out when I got home. I did some chores (laundry, dishes) and we started watching Margo’s Got Money Problems but didn’t really care much for it, and thus gave up on it. I want to read a bit this morning and do some cleaning around here, and hopefully get some writing done as well. I want to work on newsletters today, too–I have my entry about A Violent Masterpiece to share, and I also want to write about the weirdness of this holiday weekend. They haven’t issued a heat advisory for us yet, but it’s still possible. It currently “feels like” 104 and it’s not even nine yet. There’s a possibility of thunderstorms this afternoon, too. I may have some things delivered today, to get it out of the way so I don’t have to go outside other than to take out trash. That sounds like a lovely plan to me.

It’s hard for me to believe and wrap my mind around the idea that the Bicentennial was fifty years ago; the summer I turned fifteen and was about to start my junior year of high school, starting over again in Kansas, where I stuck out like a sore thumb the moment I crossed the threshold. This is the summer I turn sixty-five, and the country is in a very different mood this time around. Apparently, Ba’al is planning to give an epically long speech tomorrow at the Great American State Embarrassment, and is threatening to go as long as he possibly can to prove that he did. No incumbent president has ever died on July 4th, but at the very least his make-up is going to run–and no telling what will happen to his rat’s nest. However, President Zachary Taylor went to a lengthy celebration of the 4th on a very hot humid day, ate some cold milk and cucumbers to cool down, and got sick and died a few days later.

Dare I dream?

Essence is also this weekend here in New Orleans, and I hope that it’s back to its best form; there were a lot of complaints and some scandals in recent years. Louisiana racists hate Essence Festival (just as they hate Bayou Classic weekend, another Black event), and were pretty gleeful about its possible demise the last couple of years (there are also Quarter businesses that close both weekends, but they’re not racist, wink wink),so here’s hoping its back to form this year and rebuilds back bigger and better than ever before.

The battle between New Orleans and Louisiana rages on, with a grand jury here indicting our criminalistic conservative skank Attorney General for, among other things, abuse of power. Our lovely governor has promised to “pardon her instantly” for any convictions she may get in New Orleans…(that MAGA love and respect for the law and the Constitution on full display here, may they both burn in their own hells for all eternity)…yet conservatives called Huey Long a dictator…when Huey never pulled any of this kind of shit on his own, and he and his candidates always won in landslides. At least the day to day people loved Huey because he fought the 1% to benefit the people–which our modern day demagoguery can’t be bothered with.

I’ve been listening to some old favorites lately in the car as I drive to and from work and around town–albums by Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks, and Pat Benatar from my youth and most of them still hold up today and could be hits. Some of Stevie’s 1980s albums are very much of their time, vastly over-produced like the most excessive Bonnie Tyler hits of the period, unfortunately; I’d love to hear them remade with a more timeless production style.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines for the day. I need to do some chores, and I need to get the kitchen and my workspace back under control. I hope you have a lovely Holiday Eve, Constant Reader, and I hope to see you again here tomorrow morning on the nation’s birthday. Until then, Constant Reader!

Talking in Your Sleep

I am hoping that this morning won’t be like yesterday. It was quite odd. I felt nauseous and warm when I got up after a fitful night’s sleep in which I could never seem to get quite comfortable. I kept feeling warmer and warmer until I was sweating and overheated and quite sick. I laid down for a while, watching more videos about 1970s horror movies (television and film) which was quite fun. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday; I suspect my sinuses had a lot to do with yesterday’s bout of yuck. I need to stop and get Claritin-D on my way home from work tonight…to an empty house, as Paul is departing this morning for his trip up north. So, yes, I am very well aware Sparky is going to be very needy tonight and the rest of the week until I take him to the vet’s Friday on MY way out of town. Sigh. But I did sleep well last night and I feel pretty good so far this morning. I think I’ll be fine.

I tend to get paranoid about my health now whenever I am not feeling 100% after last year–and at this time one year ago I was horribly sick. I missed Paul’s birthday last year because I was sick, and of course, it’s today and he’s leaving. We seem to never have much luck these last few years for his birthday. I think we’ll celebrate after we both get home next week.

Because I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, I didn’t accomplish a whole lot other than watching the television with Sparky purring in a cuddle puddle in my lap. I did read another chapter of The Egyptian Cat Mystery and Listen for the Whisperer, and I scribbled a lot into my journal. I’ve done a lot of scribbling in my journal lately; I realized as I finished my red journal last night that I had only started the red journal after the first of the year….and wasn’t even halfway finished with it a mere month ago–so that’s a lot of scribbling these past few weeks. What I’ve been doing lately is trying to write after work on weekdays, and letting my mind and body have the weekend off….so I just give my creative ADHD free rein on the weekends and scribble in the journal. And the way my brain has been going these past few weekends has been pretty amazing. So many notes, so many solutions, and so much rewriting and writing to be done. But…nothing will ever get done unless you start, right?

One by one, step by step, and you will gradually get there. Patience is always the key and the one thing I always seem to have in short supply.

And while I did spend almost the entire day in my chair under a blanket with a remote in my hand, I did scribble. I also watched some fun Youtube videos; I also watched some on Louisiana, Kansas and Alabama lores and legends, some news (Lord), and I also watched (rewatched? I don’t remember) All Make: The International Male Catalogue, which was interesting. It also ties into my study of masculinity and gender, because it was influential in changing the ways men dress. I used to get it, of course, but I don’t remember if it was the 1980s or the 1990s when I did. I bought a swimsuit and a pirate blouse from them once; the swimsuit was iffy quality (I also realized that the swimsuits and underwear didn’t make the models look the way they did, but rather showed off their impressive bodies; they were selling the illusion that clothes made the man rather than the reverse) but the pirate blouse was for a Halloween costume, and it lasted forever until I have it away to someone else to use as a costume.

One thing you get used to living in New Orleans is the recyclability of costumes.

I was very disappointed to hear that Don Lemon interviewed Keith Edwards1 on his show last night, and it needs to be said and addressed and no longer swept under the rug: we have a severe racism problem in the queer community. Edwards will never beat the racism allegations; I’ve seen and heard what he has to say to Black women, and his condescending superiority for such mediocrity on full display. Why was he so vested in the Texas primary? He doesn’t live there and never will. Why were so many white gays determined to bash and demean and undermine Jasmine Crockett? Bowen Yang and his trashbag friend Matt Rogers already showed how much work gay men have to do to get their heads right, but not having full white male privilege, they do like to hold on to what their skin and their genitals provides free of charge to them in this country. There have been times when Lemon has mis-stepped before; what “journalistic” need did platforming Edwards fill? Nothing, just two privileged gay men chatting? I can hear that at work anytime I need to–and at least, I know at work the conversation won’t be steeped in male privilege and racism. I don’t know. I don’t like criticizing Black gay men, but how can you ignore all the Black women screaming at you about the misogynoir Edwards is very happy to display on social media and his videos? And not even ask the question?

I’m not sure I entirely trust Talarico–he’s got charm and charisma for sure, but I also don’t trust Graham Platner in Maine, either. They say they won’t be another Sinema or Manchin, but Fetterman ran as a progressive only to show his unwashed MAGA ass once he was elected, also like Sinema, who I hope to have the chance to slap across her grifting face some time. I know I won’t live long enough to piss on her grave, but I am very hopeful I’ll be able to do that to Fetterman’s.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning tomorrow. Till then!

The Chicago River at night as it flows through downtown on it’s way from the lake–or did they finally allow it to flow into the lake again?

  1. Who apparently got his start working for Andy Cohen at Bravo? Yet another crime to lay at his misogynist door. ↩︎

Ring of Fire

Monday and I am staying home from the office this morning. I didn’t sleep as deeply as I would have liked, and woke up several times before the alarm (and Sparky) got me up. It was after getting up and pottering around the way I always do that I started feeling hot and started sweating and my stomach git a little bit on the roiling side, so that along with a bit of being tired…and yeah, it was a no-brainer. I think my sinuses kicked in overnight somehow, and yes, blech. I really dislike being sick, but it’s one of those things you can’t control. Paul is departing tomorrow, and I don’t leave until Friday, so I am going to be home alone with Sparky–who will need lots of affection and reassurance and cuddling. I don’t mind that, of course; I just am hopeful I’ll be able to do things in the evening as well. I should be able to just read, too, if Sparky’s need for my lap is overwhelming.

Sigh.

I did send out a new newsletter yesterday, about my set of World Book Encyclopedias that my parents bought the summer I turned nine; they may have been birthday gifts? But they were treasured possessions I still miss sometimes; I miss being able to pull down a volume and just open it randomly and start reading. But as I said in the newsletter, I don’t have space for them in my house and they are, despite holding so many wonderful memories for me, they are in the end just things. I was proud of myself for getting it done and sent out on the weekend; I still missed the midweek one, though. We can but do better.

We started watching The Beast In Me last night, and I am really disappointed that none of you convinced me to watch sooner. It’s exceptionally well done, and the performances of Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys are exceptional. It appears to have been based on the story of Bobby Durst and Susan Berman–after the disappearance of his first wife; that jumped out at me right away. WE watched three episodes last night, and while I don’t know what Paul’s schedule is like today, maybe we’ll be able to finish it tonight.

This weekend was lovely, in all honesty. I did get some chores done, and I did some reading: a short story I want to write about, and another chapter of Listen to the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney, which I am enjoying a lot. I had never really read her works before in an analytic kind of critical mind way, and so things are striking me this time around. Her plots usually involved a young woman with some sort of traumatic past, trying to find resolution in the present day, and very often involved her getting to know a family she’d never known before. In Listen, the heroine is heading to Norway to meet, for the first time, her birth mother, an Oscar winning actress whose career was ended by a scandalous murder on the set of her last film. She uses a more formal style, like the older Gothic writers, but she updates and modernizes it. I’m looking forward to writing about her and the book in a rather in-depth newsletter.

Obviously, given the newsletter post of the weekend while revisiting a novel I originally read when I was ten or eleven, I’ve been thinking about, and trying to remember, more about my childhood and the influences on me and my work. If I had never credited the encyclopedia as a major influence and having a great impact on me, I certainly never credited the made for TV movies of the 1970s! I used to love watching the “Movie of the Week,’ which if you didn’t watch when it originally aired, you might miss completely unless it was rerun during the summer. (Hard to believe we used to plan our lives around television so completely when now everything is available on demand.) I have a book about those movies, particularly ABC’s–and over the weekend I found videos on Youtube from horror fans remembering how amazing some of those films were, despite low budgets and bad sets. SOme of them were terrifying–Crowhaven Farm, The House That Wouldn’t Die, Scream Pretty Peggy, The Night Stalker and Do Not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate. They often starred either fading movie stars or television stars, or a combination of the two. The 1970s were also an interesting time for horror movies and novels. This is when Stephen King got started, after all, and I was a fan from the moment I started reading the paperback of Carrie when I was a freshman in high school.1

But probably my favorite Stephen King book was Danse Macabre, which doesn’t get nearly the love it should. Reading it broadened my mind to think critically about genre, and it also introduced me to any number of writers I grew to like and admire, like Harlan Ellison. I should revisit that…it was the first easily accessible academic tome I’d read at that point, and I loved how he got into literary theory through applying it to horror. It’s still not that much different these days, but literary writers always give genre writers grief —oh you’re in it for the money–and it was much worse back then when very few genre writers were considered literary writers, too. Stephen King wasn’t taken seriously until he was well into his career–despite his genius, his originality, memorable characters, an uncanny eye for human behavior, and his ability to make unbelievable situations feel absolutely real. I had already read some horror before Carrie–I Am Legend by Richard Matheson, The Other by Thomas Tryon, The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty, and Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin jump to mind–but King got me truly interested in horror as a genre and to consider writing it (I spent most of the 1980s trying to write horror to no avail).

And on that note, I think I am going to go lay down for a bit. I feel a bit queasy still, and you never know how my stomach is going to be these days. Have a happy Monday, Constant Reader, however you choose to spend your day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

  1. King was also another revelatory author for me, but that’s for another time. ↩︎

You Can’t Hold On Too Long

Saturday and I don’t have to go into the office! Man, I was tired last night when I got home from the office. I came straight home, too. The day at the office wasn’t bad, and I fell asleep pretty early in my easy chair after watching the season premier of Peacemaker. I also did some laundry (I wound up washing the bedding once I got home), and I still have some things to do today. I have to run errands (not many, and not too terrible), I have some cleaning and so forth to do around here today, and want to do some reading and some writing as well. I guess it all depends on how much energy I wind up having today. This past week was ever so much better than Last Infusion Week, but I was still tired by the time I got home from the office. Recovery is taking forever, isn’t it?

And it’s not like I’m the most patient person alive.

I did sleep late in spite of Sparky’s biting and clawing attempts to get me up earlier. It felt good, although I do still feel a bit tired. The coffee tastes delicious this morning, and I feel a little low blood sugar this morning, which means I should eat. I’ve not been eating as much in the mornings as I had been these past two weeks. My weight is still climbing–slowly, around a pound per week–but I’m not going to worry about my weight until after Labor Day and my first self-injection. The next few weeks are going to be busy ones–LSU’s first game of the season is next weekend, and then it’s Labor Day and right after that, Bouchercon. I don’t have a lot of plans made for the week of Bouchercon, and I might just leave the weekend as it is already and not make any more plans…I can use that time to write and clean and read and get my act together going into football season. Sigh. I’m trying to not get overwhelmed with so much to do, but…nothing to do but apply nose to grindstone and focus on one task at a time. I’ve got to be better about my to-do list.

I think this morning I’ll go ahead and read for an hour before getting cleaned up and running my errands. I’m not progressing as quickly as I would like with my three current reads, and so need to desperately pick up the pace on my reading. I will never get through the TBR pile at the rate I’m going, and the way I keep adding books to the stack…my TBR pile is like the Hydra. I read and donate a book and add two more. This is not a winning strategy, methinks. But I think my focus is coming back–it’s rusty and needs to be nurtured and encouraged–and that will help with everything.

I’m also still reveling in the death of James Dobson the hateful homophobic misogynist racist advocate of child abuse in the “name of God.” Lord, how I hated that piece of shit and his so-called “ministry”–how much damage did that prick do in the name of money and power? I was thinking about writing a newsletter about Dobson and his hate–I’ll never forget that time I heard him calling me a pervert and pedophile during the Virginia thing on his radio show…but I’ve been toying with doing a lengthy, multi-part one about Christianity and my tangled, complicated relationship with the faith I was groomed into. I’ve also been reading old entries back from the original days of my blog (2005!!!) to get a sense of Katrina to write about again (I’ve started writing it, and hope to have it finished for posting on the anniversary next Friday) and it really is amazing to see how much not only my writing voice has changed but me personally; that’s what I want the Katrina entry to be about, how both the city and I have changed since Katrina because of Katrina. (Which is also my way back into writing Hurricane Season Hustle).

Last night I got my birthday meal of shrimp lo mein at last, and it was quite marvelous as it always is–you can never go wrong with shrimp, noodles, and a sauce, I find. I’m not sure about what meals to make this weekend, but probably will barbecue burgers either today or tomorrow (most likely tomorrow, since I won’t be leaving the house; today I feel is going to be an easy day for food).

And on that note, I am going to take my coffee and go read for a bit before showering. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; one can never be certain how I am going to do things on an easy unplanned day. If not, tomorrow morning for sure.

Candy-O

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office this week. We’re have a staff development day tomorrow, so I have to go in for the full day. I’m not as bitter about this as one might think, primarily because next weekend is Labor Day so I get a three day weekend on top of working at home next Friday. Huzzah!

Working on my birthday was interesting. Nobody made a fuss1, which was so greatly appreciated, but everyone wished me a happy birthday, which was nice. I woke up feeling some fatigue in my legs (which is where it always starts), but that gradually went away during the day. I had a lovely day at the office, came straight home, and did little to nothing the rest of the night–no reading, no writing (I did work on a newsletter entry, tho), no anything–other than relax, catch up on the news, and watched some television when Paul was done with working before I went to bed. I don’t feel fatigued in any way this morning, which is nice, other than some tiredness in my legs–which I am thinking will clear up as the day progresses, the same as yesterday. I slept really well last night and feel mentally alert this morning, which is a good thing. I don’t have any errands to run tonight, either–so I get to come straight home after work, which is great; and for tomorrow, we don’t have to be at the office until nine-thirty…so I can sleep a little later tomorrow morning.

I also got a ton of birthday wishes on social media. I tried to like every post, but am not sure what degree of success I had with that. It was kind of nice. Nobody has to, after all, so getting so many is really nice. If I didn’t like your post, it was an oversight and my apologies. (I am never sure what the etiquette is with these sorts of things, either….I never know what the proper etiquette is in any situation.)

I think my favorite thing I saw yesterday while getting caught up on the news after work was watching conservatives melting down over Gavin Newsom’s tweets mocking their pathetic god-emperor2. Listening to them describing the mockery as childish, immature, and unbecoming for a GOVERNOR…while not realizing that everything they were saying applied tenfold to their POS fascist sun-downing grandpa poopy-pants lord and master. (The fact said orange-faced child rapist shit-gibbon has discovered and turned off the caps-lock and exclamation point key on his phone tells me its working on the shitgibbon. We never should have stopped calling them weird last summer.) But intellect has never been MAGA’s strong suit, has it?

And where are the Epstein files?

I also spent some time revisiting the early days of my blog, as I am writing about Katrina again. It is kind of amazing that I’ve been maintaining a blog for over twenty years. This December it will be twenty-one years. I sure didn’t think I’d be doing this for that long when I started all those years ago; I assumed I’d eventually bore of it and start missing days (also important to note that in the early days I didn’t write an entry every day, either) then weeks, and one morning I’d realize I’d not done one in years. I’m also researching hurricanes as I am writing a fictional one in the will-it-ever-be-finished Scotty book. The nice thing about writing is you can always do research when you’re not actually up for putting words on the page. Of course, it’s also incredibly easy to think “I’ll just do some research instead of writing” which happens far too frequently.

I am also sidetracked easily by things I find interesting. Oh, there’s a new three-hour documentary about the Thirty Years’ War on Youtube? Let me watch this even though I’ll probably never write about that war or that time period…and then I have to try to figure out a way to write a short story or something so I didn’t waste the time. I did watch some videos about the 1915 New Orleans hurricane, which has always interested me–still trying to figure out a way to write about Julia Brown, the “voodoo queen” of Frenier, a community completely destroyed by the storm. Frenier also interests me because it was only accessible by either train or boat; talk about a cut off, insular community! The storm also destroyed the Filipino community of St. Malo on Lake Borgne, which I also want to write about at some point. (I should read Isaac’s Storm by Erik Larson–which is about the 1900 storm that destroyed Galveston; I’ve always thought Galveston and its great storm would be a good foundation for a romantic suspense novel set in the present, a la Phyllis A. Whitney.

I also picked up some new-to-me books on Tuesday: Trespassers at the Golden Gate by Gary Krist; First Lie Wins by Ashley Elston (whom I met at the TWFest this past year and loved her); Havoc by Christopher Bollen; Mississippi Blue 42 by Eli Cranor; and Bitter Blood by Jerry Bledsoe (true crime). Yes, I know, I need to get rid of books instead of adding news ones to the TBR pile (I think I am now three books behind on Eli Cranor, and so many books behind that Christopher Bollen has published!). I also got my contributor copy of Crime Ink: Iconic, which is gorgeous and I will talk about some more at another time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning, undoubtedly whining about having to go into the office.

  1. I don’t really like making a big deal out of my birthday–cakes, balloons, cards, all that stuff associated with “my big day”–and haven’t for at least thirty years, if not longer. ↩︎
  2. I wish someone would redo the paperback cover of God Emperor of Dune changing it from ‘Dune’ to ‘MAGA’ and imposing his hideous face on the sandworm. ↩︎

When I’m Sixty-four

For the first time in decades, I am not taking my birthday off.

That’s why I am up at this ungodly hour, swilling down coffee and consuming coffee cake like it’s going out of style. I need to conserve my PTO, because I am going to the panhandle (barring unforeseen circumstances) for a week with my dad in October after a weekend in Alabama for Dad’s and Mom’s birthdays. I also have to take some time off during Bouchercon–there’s no way I can work all day and then host Noir at the Bar that Thursday, and probably not going to be able to do much work that Friday, either. I think I’ve managed to get it all planned out so that I will have just enough vacation time left to do the family thing in October, and then let things start building back up again for the new year. It’s going to be weird going to work on my birthday–I generally take the day off because I don’t need or want the attention that comes with it–but I will survive, I am sure.

Sixty. Four.

Christ on the cross.

I never planned for my future because I never thought I would have one. When I was a kid, I was certain I wasn’t going to have much of an adult life; I always had nightmares about not only dying but how I would die; either in a car accident, or a fall from a high place. This is why I am always, to this day, a little bit tense when I’m in a car and a LOT tense when I am the passenger. In my early twenties, I thought I was going to seroconvert and die from AIDS–why would I ever think that I would survive that pandemic? The next thing I knew I had somehow made it to fifty, then sixty–and now I am sixty-four, with another milestone birthday just a year in my future, should I make it till then. I am woefully unprepared for retirement, so most likely will continue to work for another few years to at least try to get my debt down to a manageable place. Ha ha ha ha, I’m so adorable, aren’t I?

I guess the ship has sailed on me dying young, hasn’t it?

But it’s been a pretty good life thus far, I have to say. I’ve written and published a shit ton of work, which can never be taken away from me, and neither can the awards I’ve either won or made the shortlist for…how many authors never make a shortlist of any kind? But the childhood conditioning that celebrating myself and things I’ve accomplished is a hubristic tempting of fate; how many stories and myths and fables are there about hubristic humans who anger a god? Like I often say, I live in the city I love with the man I love doing work that I love. All of my dreams came true, no matter what happens in the future.

My sixties haven’t been easy on me, and I don’t have the energy I used to have so recovery from physical, emotional, and professional blows doesn’t happen as fast as it used to; but I’m still pretty pleased and happy with my life. I try not to worry about future outcomes that I can’t control, and can only prepare for the things I can. If my thirties were about getting myself mentally healthy so I could have the life I wanted, and the forties were about getting started in my career and the fifties were about getting further along and getting better as a writer, my sixties have been a time of revisiting and rethinking my past, finally getting to understand myself and where a lot of my neuroses stem from. The anxiety medication has helped me enormously in that regard, too. Realizing how emotionally crippling my anxiety was when I was a minor also has enabled me to remember, and those memories aren’t painful anymore because so much of my misery was directly attributable to said anxiety.

So now I am sixty-four. I am older than my grandparents were throughout my childhood, which is also a staggering realization. It’s also weird to think that I was born sixteen years after the end of World War II, the country was sinking into the depths of the Cold War, and President Kennedy hadn’t even been in office for a full year yet. I never imagined what it would be like to be this age, mainly because I, as stated earlier, never thought I would live this long. I’m trying not to be that old person–you know, “When I was your age” or “We used to call it” and that sort of thing, because no one really wants to hear it. I’ve seen a lot in my life, witnessed all kinds of events (the Challenger explosion, 9/11, Watergate hearings, on and on), and lived through all kinds of things. I’ve lived in Alabama, Chicago, Kansas, California, Houston, Tampa, Minneapolis, and New Orleans. I went to two high schools in different states, and two colleges in different states. I went to Italy for a week over ten years ago. I’ve had so many jobs, but being a writer/sexual health counselor were the only things that took with me.

Life’s been good to me so far.

After work, I am going to head home and just hang out with Sparky. If I had to hazard a guess, Paul will probably get us Hoshun for dinner tonight. But I got my vacuum cleaner last week, and that’s all I really cared about.

Happy birthday to me! And may my next year be a lovely one!

The only picture of my face as a baby, my first day home from the hospital.

Dangerous Type

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and i am dealing with a hyperactive cat that wants to play so keeps leaping on me, claws out. I feel good and rested this morning, no fatigue, and so I am hopeful for a productive day. Paul will be gone most of the afternoon for a board retreat, so I am hoping to be able to get some things done.

I love my new vacuum cleaner, period. I’ve never had much luck with them; the last two or three I bought never worked that great to begin with and then stopped picking up anything entirely after only about six months of use. So, since the last one–and yes, I tried fixing them–stopped working, I’ve had to sweep the rugs and shake them outside, and they never ever felt truly clean. Well, I put the new one together yesterday and used it in the living room. I am very pleased. It looks so clean in there now…I am going to use it in the kitchen this morning so long as Sparky doesn’t make me bleed out before I can. His claws are SHARP. So I did some great cleaning and organizing yesterday, and will hopefully finish the downstairs today.

I can’t seem to find my phone this morning, either. There are worse things.

Yesterday morning I ran my errands, and then came home to work on the house while playing highlights of LSU football from past years on Youtube (I also sometimes watch when I am in a dark mood; the highlights are my happy place). I tried to read for a bit as well without much success, but that was from being mentally scattered as I tried to work on the house, too, listening to the highlights in the background, and occasionally sitting down to rest and watch for a moment, as I still had some physical fatigue working on me yesterday. But it was so nice to come downstairs this morning to a living room with a clean floor. It’s amazing how much of a difference that makes–just like how much cleaner it looks inside when the windows are clean. It’s too hot for me to clean the windows for at least another four weeks, but I am really looking forward to it.

In a little bit I am going to go read The Hunting Wives for a little while before getting cleaned up and buckling down for a good day of cleaning and writing and reading. I also want to work on an essay on El Dorado Drive by Megan Abbott for my newsletter–if you’re wondering, I’ve decided my book/television show/movie reviews belong on my newsletter. So, if that’s why you pop by here, and have been wondering why it seems like I’m not writing those anymore, I am–just in a different place.

I also want to start rereading Hurricane Season Hustle, since I am going to be getting back to work on it relatively soon. I have so much writing to do!

And on that note, I am going to go read for a bit and thus bring this to a close. Hope you have a happy and lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and will be back in the morning tomorrow.

I love Venice, and would love to go back.