Category: birthday

To Turn You On

And today, Paul and I celebrate our thirtieth (gulp) anniversary. YIKES. On August 1, we celebrate moving to New Orleans twenty-nine years ago–and then nineteen days later, I turn sixty-four (cue the Beatles). We are going to a matinee of Superman today–the plans are absolutely definite now–and then we’ll come home and relax. Sparky let me sleep in late this morning, which was much appreciated, and now I am awake and drinking coffee and being a bit reflective.

I had a nice day yesterday. I ran my errands and got home again in less than an hour; and I got a lot of the chores done. There’s still some things that need to be done today, but that’s okay. My kitchen sink and dishwasher are empty and the counters are clear. The laundry is all finished and put away, too. There’s still some things I need to get done today, but that’s okay. I didn’t really read anything yesterday other than things I’ve written–short stories and the Chlorine manuscript–in preparation to get to work on all of these things this week. I feel good this morning, good and rested, so I feel like I am going to be able to get some stuff done today before getting cleaned up and heading out for the movie. It’s gorgeous outside today–the sky is blue and the sun is shining, which probably means it’s in the nineties and feels like over a hundred; we’re going into heat advisories this week, too.

We are in what they used to call the dog days of summer–although I have no idea where that phrase actually came from.

We also finished America’s Sweethearts yesterday–and was very glad to see that the cheerleaders got their raise, and a significant one at that. I’ve always thought, based on the success of their branding over the last fifty years, that they were underpaid and very taken advantage of by the Cowboys organization. It’s a full time job, and they give up a lot of control over their own lives by dreaming to put on that barely-more-than-a-bikini uniform. I’d love to know how the cheerleaders were manifested into what they are today–a brand recognized worldwide, and how the decision was made to to pick those costumes and how they are handled and the rules they live by were developed. I know it happened in the 1970s; I wasn’t really much of a fan because I thought they were being overly sexualized to appeal to the male audience. The one takeaway from watching the show when it was originally on TNN was how the cheerleaders were depicted in that classic Madonna/whore thing: they wear revealing costumes that emphasize their bodies, yet they are all young women who seem to be very chaste and virginal, even the ones that are married or have boyfriends…which always struck me as a bit exploitative.

The two women who run the team, Kelli Finglass and Judy Trammell, are blunt to the point of being rude bitches at time, and the depth of their devotion (each have spent over forty years with the team) to the high standards they want for their performers is kind of impressive, if sometimes over the top (I do find myself thinking from time to time while viewing, “that was just rude” or “Kelli, you could have been a bit more diplomatic there”) and there are some interesting gender politics at play with the show, too–the women are all dressed and made-up to draw the male gaze, yet behind the scenes they are very sweet and supportive of each other to the point that someone cynical (like me) has to wonder how much of it is an act for the cameras. I mean, there’s no conflict between the girls, no personality clashes? But it’s also refreshing–after years of watching reality television and drama manufactured for the cameras for ratings so women can scream at each other–to see women’s relationships depicted as a sisterhood, like a sorority; and sometimes how the group reacts to things looks very sorority-minded. It’s kind of nice to see, actually; women supporting women.

And while I wonder about disordered eating and body dysmorphia for them, based on the pressures placed on them to remain slim yet voluptuous, my favorite quote from Kelli is her saying bluntly to one hopeful at training camp, “The uniform is very unforgiving.”

She wasn’t lying.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Unchained Melody

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and yesterday was a rather lovely day, in all honesty. I didn’t put any pressure on myself, but did make some progress on the apartment itself. I cleared out two boxes off the top of the cabinets, and know now what the others are–and know they can simply go into the attic once it is cleared out. This means…I am getting to the point where I can start working on the attic. This pleases me enormously, and there’s some other stuff that needs to be done here in the workspace this morning before I make a minor grocery run. We watched this week’s Bad Monkey, which I am loving, and then some more Solar Opposites. I also managed to get a week’s worth of dishes taken care of–I was really lazy and taking advantage of the entire “birthday week” excuse this week, I am a bit red-faced to admit–and reminded myself to never let it get that bad again…which will last probably about a week.

I also watched the Georgia Tech-Florida State game. I simply flipped over to it while looking for a movie to watch (to no avail; nothing sounded good) to see the score, and saw the end of the second half with the score tied 14-14. That intrigued me enough to continue watching, and it turned out to be a rather good game, as Georgia Tech kicked a field goal on the last play of the game to upset #10 Florida State, 24-21. It was a great game–I do sometimes watch college football when I don’t care about either team–made even greater by the upset win for Georgia Tech (I am not a FSU fan), and that kind of got me into the mood for football season. LSU’s first game is this weekend; Sunday evening in Las Vegas, of all places. I have no idea how good LSU is going to be this year–I am not one of those people who reads analysts and so forth and practice reports; they are meaningless really until it’s actually a game and they’re keeping score. I prefer to be surprised, and college football is always full of surprises. I don’t even pay attention to the NFL preseason, either.

I wasn’t a complete sloth yesterday. I did do some things around the house, and looking around this morning, there’s more that needs to be done. I’m not used to having all this free time, which is the primary adjustment I am having to make in the present day…and it’s kind of nice, you know? I still need to figure out how to be more productive, and how to utilize the time, but I worked so hard for so very long and never had a minute’s peace for so long that it’s just kind of nice to not be worried about things anymore. I plan to spend some time this morning straightening up the kitchen again, and picking things up and filing, and I also want to do the floors. I didn’t leave the house yesterday so I have to make that grocery run today (to make dinner tonight I have to go), but that’s not a big deal, really. It’s nice, though, to not be stressed and anxious about not working in my free time.

I even thought about writing projects yesterday. I am really leaning towards shelving Never Kiss a Stranger for now; I realized yesterday it was one of those stupid “stubbornly obsessive” things that I get into my head every once in a while. I remembered yesterday that originally I had intended to finish my novella collection this summer, which meant working on that, and then I realized it was more of a book than a novella, and decided to write that for the summer. And even though I was having trouble with it on almost every level of turning what I already had into a novel, I was stubbornly refusing to shelve it and move on, which was counter-productive. No one cares if I finish that book now or at some other time, or if I never write it at all. So, I am going to put it aside for now and forget about it for a while. It only makes sense to get back into regular writing with a Scotty book, and a Scotty book will be somewhat easier for me to write…and easier for me to get back into the swing of writing again after so much time away from it.

I also realized that the MAGA meltdown over Gus Walz was an excellent way to open my essay “Are You Man Enough?”, and so I did scribble some notes on that yesterday as well. I am actually kind of looking forward to this work week, believe it or not, and I do think getting to work on another Scotty–Hurricane Season Hustle–will be a lot more fun for me going forward.

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

Screenshot

I Got You Babe

Well, I survived returning back to work yesterday. I really thought I’d have trouble getting up yesterday morning, but I was awake when the alarm went off the first time–and yes, Sparky was a kitty puddle at the foot of the bed who immediately woke and strolled up along the side of the bed for head butts and purring to get me up. I also made it through the day without ever getting tired, and I was sure I would; I woke up several times during the night, and it seemed to always take a while for me to go back to sleep. I did sleep more deeply last night, and I feel pretty good this morning. Which is weird, of course; I shouldn’t feel more rested and better later in the work week, but when have I ever been normal?

I haven’t wanted to be normal in decades. And this particular oddness is something I’ve noticed before.

But overall, yesterday was a pleasant day. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got off work, which I’d been concerned about, and ran my errand and came home to play with Sparky. Paul worked at home yesterday and went to Hoshun to get us dinner (a treat for my birthday, delayed a day) and we watched the convention again last night. The DNC is simply killing it this year, aren’t they? Whoever planned this convention deserves a huge raise. It’s also lovely getting reminders of how good and deep the bench of next generation party leaders actually is. Who do they have? Lauren Boebert, Marjorie Taylor Greene, and Matt Gaetz? Give me Jasmine Crockett, Wes Moore, Josh Shapiro, Andy Beshear, Pete Buttigieg, and Eric Swalwell any day of the week over those fools. I stayed up to watch Governor Walz–and what a wonderful, amazing, normal family he has, and how much do they all love each other? I know Vance’s biracial children have been completely moved by how their dad has defended their mom–oops, never mind.

And tonight the Vice-President will accept the nomination, and I can’t wait to watch.

The humidity has broken here for a few days; we’re having an unusual cold spell which will result in lots of storms all week next week, and then…it’s Labor Day weekend and college football starts. LSU plays USC in Las Vegas that weekend on Sunday night, and I don’t know if I’m ready for another college football season this soon. I don’t think we’ll be going to any games this year, alas, but that’s okay. No one is really sure how good LSU will or won’t be this year, but most seem to be cautiously optimistic. The schedule is rough this year, too. Two of the non-conference games are USC and UCLA, and I think they play both Texas and Oklahoma this year in addition to the usual SEC meat grinder–although Auburn and Mississippi State have come off the schedule. (Note to self: print the schedule and put it on the fridge; same with the Saints. Sigh. I can’t believe it’s already football season! But I am ready for fall weather–or what passes for it around here, LOL.)

I managed to book an eye appointment for a Saturday in September, and yes, I booked it during the scheduled game that day, at South Carolina. Which is fine, actually; I don’t mind driving out to Metairie in the morning, and I can always get something to eat out there that I usually don’t have access to–which is even better. I probably should stop and make groceries tonight–we need a few things–and I also need to get gas as well. I keep forgetting I need to get gas every night this week on my way home, and if I’m not careful I’m going to wind up stranded on the side of the road somewhere. (Not the end of the world; my insurance has roadside service so I’d just have to wait for someone to bring me some gas so I can get to a station–but this is something I’d have had anxiety about before the new medications, and boy do I not miss the anxiety!) Note to self: get gas on the way home tonight.

I’m working at home tomorrow, so I get to sleep a little later than usual (if His Royal Highness Sparky will allow it–he will most likely not), and of course, I have some chores to get done this weekend. I ordered new kitchen towels for my birthday, which delights me to no end, and I am thinking about upgrading some other things around the house. I also need to clear out some more books and get the boxes down from on top of the cabinets, and maybe even start on the boxes in the attic. Whoa, Nelly, slow down; you’re feeling awfully ambitious this morning (it’s the coffee, no doubt) and by this afternoon you won’t feel like doing anything at all when you get home. There’s a load of dishes in the dishwasher to run, and there’s also some laundry to finish, too. It truly never ends!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have an awesome Thursday, and I may be back later. I’m tricky that way.

The Birds and the Bees

Wednesday morning and back to the office with me today. It’s a good thing, but I did really enjoy my four days of rest and relaxation. Yesterday I did nothing. I mean, I didn’t put any pressure on myself to do anything and was just a lazy slug for most of the day. I did do some of the dishes, and I did make salisbury steak for dinner (I really do like it, and it wasn’t that difficult) and even took a nap yesterday afternoon (fell asleep for almost two hours in my chair). I watched the DNC last night, and was reminded of how much I love the Obamas; Michelle certainly burned the Republicans to the ground, and after years of them going high–it was nice to see them drag the right and Trump for the racist, juvenile filth they are. It was very cathartic to see and hear, frankly. I feel so much better about the election it’s like a whole new world for us to live in now. Oh, I know it’s going to be much closer than it should be (bigotry and prejudice will still sway some people, alas), and election night is going to be incredibly stressful. But I no longer dread the election, even if it there is an eternity until the votes are counted.

These changes over the last month or so have been so incredible. I went from feeling like I was living under another dark cloud–the same one that’s been up there since 2016–and that dark cloud just made everything else so much worse. Everything just seemed bleak, and then so much else happened in the time since. I think that also had a lot to do with the writing burnout I was/am experiencing on top of everything else awful that has happened in the intervening eight years. There were a lot of dark clouds since 2016, and of course when you’re already prone to things because of your anxiety and some deeply imbedded self-loathing that you’ve never really gotten past, it makes the writing so much harder. I’ve clearly slowed down over the last seven years or so–and the successes I’ve had I’ve not really been able to enjoy. I’ve been nominated for a lot of mainstream awards since the sewage rode the escalator down and grifted his way into the White House, which is incredibly cool.

It’ hard to believe it has only been a month since the President decided not to run again.

I’m also on the fence about Never Kiss a Stranger, and I am slowly coming to the conclusion that it just may not be the time for me to write it. I think I am going to go back over those chapters I’ve already done this week and try fixing them. I think that it’s not so much “Imposter Syndrome” or burnout or even laziness as it is maybe not the right time to write this book. Maybe it’s not a book and should just remain novella length? Not everything has to be a novel, after all. It does, as a novella, need more work; but it also needs more work as a book. And if I can’t decide right now which one it should be…maybe it’s just not the right time for me to be writing this book. Maybe I should just write another Scotty–not that it will be easy to do so–but just to get back into the swing of writing again. There is something comforting about revisiting Scotty’s world; and it means I need to revisit those books, and maybe–just maybe–it’s time to copy edit Jackson Square Jazz and get that ebook up and available.

And it’s also entirely possible that Never Kiss a Stranger is one of those projects destined to remain unfinished. I have quite a few of those on hand these days, it seems! But not everything needs to be finished, and not every idea plays out in a story or a novella or into a book, you know? I also worry about repeating myself with my work; what if I’ve already written this character or this story or used this subplot already1; the problem is I’ve been creating and writing for so long–as well as plundering old stuff for plots and character names–that the possibility of completely forgetting that I’ve used a plot or characters already is pretty high.

So, I am going to futz around the rest of this week, work on some stories, and maybe see how a new Scotty might flow for me. Hey, you never know.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later on or tomorrow!

  1. Absolutely no disrespect intended, but even Agatha Christie recycled plots. ↩︎

King of the Road

Well, happy birthday to me. It’s actually midnight and I am up far past my bedtime. I stayed up watching the Democratic National Convention, and wow, what an evening that was. Then I realized it wasn’t that long until the end of my sixty-third year and the start of my sixty-fourth. Yikes indeed! Who’d have thought the old queen would last this long? I certainly never gave it a thought, and just always dismissed with it a shrug and oh I’ll be long dead by then. Surprise! Here I am, a little at sea and dealing with the complicated feelings of being older and all that serious stuff I’ve managed to avoid thinking about or dealing with for so much of my life. And yet…here I am, still alive and kicking and with a brain that’s only slightly slower and a memory that has a lot more blanks than it used to and really, a lot less energy than I used to have but that’s all kind of normal. I am also still getting used to the free time I have now, and kind of enjoying just having no pressure on me.

There are worse things than turning sixty-three, frankly. Seventy, for example. Just kidding, I have no idea how bad or good that will feel when it happens.

I had a nice day yesterday. I went to the grocery store and mostly cleaned and picked up things around the house, and worked on the kitchen. I actually took the rugs out and shook them for the first time in I don’t want to know how long, and came down to a nice, orderly looking kitchen. I was thinking yesterday that I don’t really want to do anything today–but then realized I actually like organizing and cleaning, so won’t rule any of that out while heading into the day. I am going to try to not leave the house–I may go to Five Guys for lunch, but the jury is still out on that. We’re not in a heat advisory today, which is also kind of great–first day in many weeks that we’ve not been in one, so indeed happy birthday to me! I am also not rushing to finish this either; I am going to finish this and post it whenever I feel like it. (Who am I kidding, I’ll finish and post while I am sitting here, won’t I?)

I’m just going to do today the way I want to do today, and do what I feel like and won’t feel any pressure to do anything I don’t want to do, or rather, don’t feel like doing. It’s a very weird feeling, frankly. I realized yesterday that part of the problem is that period of physically not being able to write very much (or at all) has gotten me out of the habits, and that means I don’t remember how to focus, which is also why I am having trouble reading (I am going to try to do some this morning to kickstart those sleeping muscles and hoping that reading will remind my brain how to focus). Part of it is memory loss, of course–the COVID experience in 2022 seemingly wiped my memory banks, and that’s only gotten somewhat worse. But that’s okay. The creativity has come back (which I always worry about) but what’s missing is the focus; I have to harness the creativity and make it work for me going forward.

I also found myself, as is my wont, having all kinds of thoughts and ideas about works already in progress or potential future projects, all the while remembering all the way back when my novels first started coming out–and how different the world I first published in was from today’s. I also started thinking about my next Scotty book, and what the plot of that is going to be. Interestingly enough, I was also thinking about a future Scotty book, in which we address Cancer Alley at long last. Maybe it’s not out of my scope to write environmental crime novels set in Louisiana, exploring how the conservatives have essentially allowed the state to be looted and plundered, environment be damned, for generations and do not want any changes to the status quo. Why not me? It’ll be challenging, for sure, but doing the research will be fun and informative. Or…maybe Cancer Alley would be the kind of story that would be better for a Chanse novel? Do I want to bring him back? It IS fun to think about, to be honest.

I also decided that as I build the Substack essay audience, I have to do better work to post there. I’ve been doing it mostly the same way I do this blog–find a topic to discuss from my life (whether it’s media I’ve consumed, something about writing, the trials of being gay, life lessons learned, experiences that made me who I am today) and then sit down and write and post it, without edits or rewrites. If I ever move it to a paid model, I have to give people something that they are willing to pay for to read–and that’s why I am thinking it’s a good place for these essays, even a short story here and there, and so on–and that means I have to start thinking of the Substack in a more professional manner.

And maybe, just maybe, I should start looking at this blog as more of a professional endeavor for me than something I just dash off in the morning while I am waking up.

Big thoughts on my birthday. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am getting another cup of coffee, heating up a breakfast sandwich in the microwave, and then I am getting into my chair with the new Alison Gaylin ARC. Happy birthday to me, and may you have a marvelous day, Constant Reader; it’s highly doubtful I’ll be back before tomorrow morning when I return to work and get up ungodly early again.

Shotgun

Monday!

Yesterday was kind of nice. I worked on the apartment and worked on some stories–mostly thinking, some writing, some notes–and started working on the desk area too. We started watching Bad Monkey (more on that later), and then spent a lot of time streaming Solar Opposites, which continues to delight. I also started working on the rugs and the floors, which is way overdue, and also did some other work on the apartment, too. I feel very good this morning, as far as being rested and everything is concerned. I slept deeply and well, Sparky woke me up around eight this morning–when I first woke up he was curled up into a kitty coil sound asleep, so I closed my eyes and turned over…which got him up and brought him up to my face to see if I was, indeed, actually awake. I let him do that for a while, before succumbing and getting up. Today is my Birthday Eve, and while I do need to make a grocery run and get the mail, I can stay inside most of the day and do whatever i please. I plan on working on the house more (cleaning out cabinets, working on the floors, pruning books) before running those errands later this morning, and it’s only going to “feel like 112.” Sigh, my power bill for this month is going to be so brutal.

Oddly enough, I just walked over to the Walgreens and back (I needed sweet and low and forgot to get some this weekend) and it was actually pleasant outside with a cool breeze? I didn’t even break a sweat, which was super nice and definitely weird for this late in the summer. I don’t know if it’s supposed to rain today or not, but it would be super-awesome if it rained all day tomorrow for my birthday, so I can stay inside and read. I’ve not decided how I want to spend my birthday tomorrow, but I know I am probably not going to do any cleaning or some-such unless I so desire. How exciting I sound this morning! What can I say, my brain isn’t waking up as fast as I would prefer! But I am on my second cup of coffee and am about to eat some breakfast, so that should help.

One would think, anyway.

I’m not feeling particularly profound or insightful this morning, but nevertheless here I am, typing away on the day before my birthday. It really is astonishing how long I’ve been keeping my blog; it’ll be twenty years this December (the 26th, I believe, to be exact). That’s a lot of entries and a lot of writing. I know I’ve missed days over the years–I’m the only person committed to this on a daily basis, well aware–but I’ve been pretty consistent with it for all these years. Apparently I was a bit more commitment-phobic in the past. I’ve now lived in New Orleans longer than I’ve lived anywhere else; Paul and I have been together for close to thirty years now; I’ve been blogging for almost twenty years, and I will also hit my twenty years at work in January. I’ve even lived in the same apartment for almost twenty years. Not bad for someone who rarely lasted in any job longer than two years at most; and I’ve also been writing professionally since I cashed my first check for writing back in 1996. That’s almost thirty years. My first short story was published in 2000, and my first novel came out in 2002. I’ll probably be more reflective tomorrow, most like.

I also wrote an essay this weekend that I published over at Substack; do check it out if you’re interested. I probably should have revised and rewritten it one more time before sending it out into the world, but the whole point of my Substack is to get more practice writing personal essays, and as with anything, there’s a learning curve. A personal essay is more than a blog entry (although they are kind of mini-essays in and of themselves, detailing whatever is going on and through my mind at the time I write the entries), and so I am slowly learning how to pull an essay together. They don’t necessarily have to be longer than the essays I’ve already posted there; they work as essay abstracts, for sure. This latest one, “Death by a Thousand Cuts,” has been idling in the back of my mind for a long time now–the original inspiration for it came from getting tired of being straight-splained, as well as being aware that straight men and women don’t really see me as an equal. It could be longer, and there are/were other points I could have made in it to further illustrate the point, but essays are really out of my comfort zone (like short stories) and so I need to toil over them a bit more and build up my confidence.

I’m also thinking I can publish short stories there, too, if I am so inclined.

Hmm, this got a little more interesting as my brain woke up, didn’t it? It’s looking gloomy outside this morning now, so I think we are definitely getting rain today. Yay!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow. Maybe later–one never can be entirely sure. I am tricky that way.

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me

Up early on a Sunday, thanks to Sparky. I got up, fed him, and decided to have some coffee and stay up. I got eight hours, did I really need anymore? I thought when you got older you slept less? I don’t know. All I know is I’m able to sleep a lot later than I used to, and sometimes my body feels like it needs more. We’ll see how today goes, and I can always take a nap if my body needs one this afternoon. I am debating whether or not to make a grocery run today or wait till tomorrow to do it. But the coffee is starting to kick in, and I have a lot of chores to get done around here today. I did go get my RSV and flu shots yesterday, ran some errands, and came home to watch more Solar Opposites, which continues to be a hilarious delight. I barbecued for dinner last night, and managed to get to bed earlier than I usually do on a weekend.

I can get everything done this morning and try to get a lot of other chores done before Paul gets up. I started writing a new essay for the Substack yesterday, which counts as writing, and hopefully I can get some more writing done today. I also got the ARC of Alison Gaylin’s January release for next year, We Are Watching, which looks fantastic, so I really do need to get back to actual reading again. I have two days left as a sixty-two year old, so kind of just easing into my sixty-third (although it’s really the sixty-fourth, you aren’t born at age one you’re born at zero; your birthday marks how many years so far you’ve completed). I cannot believe August is nearly half over already, but that means cooler weather is not that far off–and by that, I mean the high seventies, low eighties. That may seem hot to you, Constant Reader, but to give you an example, it’s going to feel like 120 in New Orleans today.

Maybe I’ll stay inside and go make groceries tomorrow. That makes more sense to me. I also have some things being delivered to the apartment today, too, so yeah, maybe I’ll wait and go tomorrow morning. Less people, less traffic, and less aggravation. Maybe I’ll treat myself to Five Guys, too, while I am over there. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had a good greasy burger, you know? I bought one of those dinner kits from Fresh Market to make for dinner; I don’t remember what, but we really liked the shrimp scampi one we had the last time I got one, and we’ve genuinely liked the others I’ve gotten. So I don’t need to worry about what we’re having for dinner today and there’s no need to get to the store to buy anything. Tomorrow night I think I’ll make salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, to change things up a bit, and then I really only have to go into the office for two days this week. Next week is a full week, but then it’s Labor Day and Southern Decadence. I’m not going down there–too many people, too hot, and I’m too old to stand around all day (which I am really not capable of doing anymore), but I hope that everyone who does has a great time while staying safe at the same time.

Ernesto is still out there heading up the east coast, churning up waves along the shore and it’s either already hit Bermuda, or is very close to doing so. There’s no other systems at this time anywhere in the Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico, or Caribbean Sea1, which is a lovely relief, but we are not out of the woods yet, either.

We had some rain yesterday afternoon, between me running the errands and cooking out, and it was a beauty of a thunderstorm. I’ve always loved thunderstorms, you know, ever since I was a kid. Is there any feeling as marvelous as being in your easy chair, covered up in a blanket reading a good book while there’s a thunderstorm outside? It’s definitely one of my favorite things. Paul and I were watching television when it happened, but Sparky did go to sleep in my lap which was very sweet and endearing for the little demon.

And I think I am going to bring this to a close this morning. I am feeling more awake now, and think I am going to go get cleaned up and get the day moving. I have chores to get done and writing to do, and I am getting a bit hungry. So I may be back later, I may not; it’s a mystery. But may your Sunday be blessed, Constant Reader, and remember to stay positive!

  1. I always spell ‘caribbean’ wrong the first time; I am always certain it only has one b and two r’s. WRONG. ↩︎

Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat

Ah, Saturday. I have things to do outside the home–vaccinations, mail, groceries, book sale, possibly gym–and I am sure it’s going to be miserably hot outside. That’s okay, I am settling into my long weekend and just relaxing. Yesterday was great. I got the labs drawn, went to the office, came home and finished my work day, and then Paul and I ran errands. We picked up a prescription for him before heading to Costco, and even that was fine. We found most everything we were looking for, I got some new sweats and a book (The Seventh Veil of Salome by Silvia Moreno-Garcia) for my birthday, and then we came home. Paul listened along with me in the car to My Dad Wrote a Porno (he agreed it was hilarious and laughed out loud several times; I forgot to sync the phone when we left the pharmacy and headed to Costco, and he insisted that I put it on again! So, I synced the phone when we stopped at the next light and we laughed merrily as we drove around. It was quite fun, and very pleasant. It wasn’t even a hassle getting everything inside and put away, either.

We then had a very pleasant evening watching a Hulu show called Solar Opposites, an animated show which is basically the same premise as Third Rock from the Sun, but way crazier and much more irreverent and completely hilarious (we never really watched Third Rock, and maybe we should remedy that). I was in a very pleasant mood, and even was thinking about writing and the short stories I’m currently working on. I am hoping to get to spend some time with at least one of them today, and if not, well, maybe I’ll have some time to read.

I slept in this morning until nine, which felt wonderful and refreshing; I knew I was low-energy and tired all week and what I really needed was a lengthy night’s deep sleep. I was out, Constant Reader, and dead as a stone. It was rather nice, and I feel rather nice this morning as my brain returns from the depths of Morpheus. I’ve not paid much attention to the news as I could have; by the Democratic National Convention starts on Monday, so I will probably be spending next week watching that and the excitement around Vice-President Harris and Governor Walz continues to build and grow through November. I am a lot more hopeful about the future now–something I am still trying to stay grounded about. It’s going to be a struggle, and even after the voting is done, I seriously doubt MAGA is going to go away any time soon–but at least we have President Biden in the White House this time around. I still think there will be violence as MAGA expels its dying breath, but at least I have hope that we won’t have a useful idiot for Putin as the most powerful person on the planet anymore, praise Jesus.

Two friends had great news this week to share–John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors was on Oprah’s summer reading list (may this sell a lot of books for him) and Alex Segura (aka one of my favorite people on the planet) not only launched a new Spiderman universe comic book he’s written, but he also announced he gets to write a run of one of my favorite comics, the very little known The Question. Yay, John and Alex! I am so happy for you both! I love when good things happen to great people, you know? I really do need to spend some time reading over these next few days–the terrific new books to read are always expanding my TBR pile and I have any number of books on hand that I definitely want to read. And what better way to spend my birthday weekend by doing two things that I really enjoy–writing and reading? Yes, I am planning on doing some writing this weekend. My birthday is simply going to be a relaxing, no pressure, don’t leave the house kind of day–my favorite kind, actually–and I am looking forward to that..although I do kind of want to see the new Alien movie. I also have an idea I’d like to tackle for my Substack–as I am beginning to try to separate the blog out from actual personal essays, which is what I want to post there. The news that the Vice-President worked at McDonalds in college made me think, hey, that was my first job, too and realized another thing I’ve never really talked about is my unemployability and all the shit jobs I’ve had. (For the record, I’ve had jobs I probably don’t remember; I worked at McDonalds, Wendy’s, Burger King, Arby’s, AM/PM, Toys R Us, a floral wholesaler, Marshalls, an insurance brokerage, Bank of America, a natural gas sales company, Continental Airlines, a travel agency, Lambda Literary Foundation, the YMCA, the queer community center, Harrington Park Press, and then finally NO/AIDS-Crescent Care. I also worked at numerous gyms as a trainer or teaching aerobics in there, and of course I was always writing for quite some time. I once wrote a short story about a kid who worked at McDonalds and had no moral compass, but I realized at some point I could never publish a noir story about a kid who worked there called “Quarter Pounders,” either.

But…I could use that title for an essay about working there, and I can adapt the story to another place to eat, a fictitious one.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for the moment. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and as always, thanks for stopping by. I may be back later, one never really knows, does on?

I Can’t Get No Satisfaction

Blergh.

I am up way too early this morning, and I can’t even have any coffee. I am having labs drawn this morning, and I need to fast for them…so I always schedule it for super-early so I can get it over and done with and back home to the shower and my coffee. I am not working at home today like I usually do; we’re having a department meeting and although I had permission to join the meeting on Teams…I also had some admin work to do in the office so I figured I might as well just go in person and do my work time there. I mean, I took Monday and Tuesday off, so missing out on a work-at-home day when I have four days off in a row isn’t going to be a major issue for me. And it’s not a full day, anyway. We’re going to Costco after I get home from work later, and I do have some errands to get taken care of this weekend. But I took Monday and Tuesday off for my birthday, so I have four days to relax, read, clean, or just do nothing if I so choose.

Well, I am home from having the labs drawn. I won’t spare you the gruesome story of the poor phlebotomist who had to locate a vein–the vein he finally found in my right forearm only gave one vial, so he then had to use my left hand; it actually didn’t hurt (I’ve steeled myself to having blood drawn, and having it done so regularly for my PrEP prescription has kind of inured me to sharp pointy metal things going into my skin. I also scheduled my flu shot and my RSV vaccine for tomorrow morning, so look at me–getting all this medical stuff knocked out and being pro-active about my own health, which is actually kind of lovely. It’s one of those things that I consider “ooh, look at me being a responsible adult” which is kind of a reaction to being told for so long that I was so completely irresponsible by so many people. I do enjoy, however, those moments when I behave like an actual adult. (I’ve set the bar pretty low for myself, in case you couldn’t tell.)

Despite being tired on my way home from work last night, I did do a speck of writing. I’ve been thinking a lot about a short story that’s been in progress for almost ten years, but I was never really sure how to end it, or really what it was about. I got the idea for it when I had to stop to use the rest room at a rest stop in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. There was only one other car there, and it was running with the passenger door open. At first I was amused–I guess someone really had to use the bathroom pretty badly–and of course my next thought was that it was probably a woman…but as I walked up to the building and went into the bathroom there was no one in the men’s room, so I assumed I was right. But after washing my hands, I walked back out and the car was exactly the same as it was when I passed. I called Highway Assistance–in case it was something serious and there was a woman lying on the floor in the bathroom or something, and once I was back on the road again, I thought about the situation all the way to my parents’, and pictured a woman coming to the same rest stop and encountering the same situation, only she finds an unconscious bleeding woman in the bathroom…and the main character is really not in a position herself to call the police. A picture of the Smoky Mountains on Facebook–the riotous colors of fall–came across my feed over the weekend, and it put the story back into my frontal lobe, so I decided to work on it some more this week since it was taking form in my head. I know why the main character is there, I know why the bleeding woman is there, and all I have left is deciding which ending is the best. I didn’t write much–Sparky kept distracting me before Paul came down to watch television with me–but I did get some writing done, and that feels simply wonderful.

Anyway, this day is going to feel off all day because it’s out of the ordinary. Getting up and out for the lab work; coming into the office for a meeting and to catch up on Admin work here that should be done before I leave for my brief vacation this weekend–odds and ends, really, that shouldn’t wait until I return to the office on Wednesday.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this strange Friday. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I doubt I’ll be back before tomorrow morning.

Help!

Wednesday and it’s Pay the Bills Day again! Woo-hoo! I didn’t sleep through the night–getting up a couple of times, but I feel rested and fine this morning. Go figure. I hit a wall again yesterday afternoon, and was very tired when I got home last night. I did have my Sparky time, collapsing into my easy chair and getting caught up on the news; he expects this time now, because I’ve trained him to expect that after I get home and he gets fed–just like he tries to wake me up every morning at six on the days I don’t have to get up. Friday I have to go to Quest to get labs drawn at seven in the morning, and I also have a department meeting that morning as well, so I’ll roll out of bed and stumble, bleary-eyed, to Quest, then come back home and swill coffee and get cleaned up to head into the office (since I am already there, I am just going to do my hours at the office rather than coming back home to do work-at-home duties.

We started watching The Decameron last night before giving up after the second episode. It’s a great idea and I love that they made a show about one of the great classics of history, but it just doesn’t really deliver completely. There were some great moments, and it might get better, and I also see why they made it; a bubonic plague show, after the pandemic? But it just wasn’t engaging in the way I would have preferred, so we watched an episode of Evil, which we’d been watching before the Olympics and had forgotten about. But it’s kind of a fun show–a religious X-Files, basically–and it’s engaging.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own work–probably because I’m not really doing any of it at the moment–and why I write it and what can I do about the dumpster fire the world is turning into. I’ve mentioned here several times how much I wished we had a Louisiana John D. MacDonald type writer, addressing the exploitation of Florida and the environmental damage that exploitation hath wrought on the state (Condominium is a great book about greedy developers and corrupt politicians), and originally I always was thinking someone else would be better to do it than me. But…that’s really laziness on my part, because studying the ecological disaster Louisiana has become (with no bottom to the disaster in sight, especially given what we have in Baton Rouge now) was a lot of work. I’ve always wanted to address the situation in Cancer Alley1, which is a stain on the nation. Those communities are mostly black and completely poor, so you can imagine how much our politicians–including those representing those parishes–care about them. It is a disgrace.

And that’s not even taking into consideration the erosion of the wetlands, making Louisiana at even higher risk of disaster during hurricane season (which we are in right now).

And given what we are dealing with in terms of political leadership these days (Project 2025 is already here), someone needs to start talking about this stuff.

Why not me? Although I suppose it would mean resubscribing to the MAGA Times-Picayune again, which totally sucks. Heavy heaving sigh. Can anyone be a local crime writer without reading the local paper? Probably not, so I might as well bite the damned bullet and get back on that train at some point. I hate having to compromise my principles. But I also don’t have to enjoy it, do it? And with football season on the horizon, sigh. Their coverage of LSU, Tulane2, and the Saints is really the best. Sigh. I’ll just donate the same amount to the Harris campaign.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

  1. “Cancer Alley” is the eighty-two mile section of the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, with a ridiculous amount of petrochemical plants and refineries in the poorer parishes, where the rate of cancer is insanely high and everyone knows it’s the factories poisoning everyone, but no one ever does anything about it. It is Louisiana’s shame, frankly. ↩︎
  2. See, Ellen? I don’t always forget Tulane. ↩︎