Category: books i’ve read

Everybody

And somehow Saturday has rolled around yet again here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was nice; I had my meeting in the morning after sleeping a little late. I did my work at home duty and the laundry and other chores, ordered some groceries, and relaxed some. It was very nice, actually. I relaxed and cleaned and thought about my writing and what to do next with it. Paul went to the gym after he got home from work, and when he got back, we watched The Shards and Reacher–not realizing two episodes of each had dropped, so we have those to get back to along with more Furious. Paul will be out this afternoon, so I have some down time that I am not certain how to use just yet. I also slept later, finally giving in to Sparky’s entreaties and coming down to give him his breakfast, have my own small starter snack with my coffee, and figure out the rest of my day. I feel very relaxed, rested, and good this morning, which is wonderful. I have some chores to do this morning, so once I post this and also send out my newsletter (I finished revising and rewriting it yesterday evening), I’m going to get cleaned up and read for a bit.

I also have to have some things delivered, so I can make dinner today and tomorrow. We’re once again in a heat advisory (shocking, right?), so I am going to want to spend as little time as possible outdoors. And yes, it’s more evidence of the annual selective amnesia New Orleanians have about the heat and humidity in the summer; somehow we’re surprised every year with how hot it gets here. It always amuses me, and I catch myself doing it all the time.

The Saints’ pre-season games start tonight; Jacksonville comes to town. I’ve never understood the point to the pre-season, and no one’s ever been able to explain why it’s necessary to have one to me. Paul and I went to one at the Superdome before the pandemic, but it wasn’t very exciting, there weren’t many people there, and it’s hard to get vested in a game that doesn’t mean anything. But the season will be beginning for college and the pros soon, and I’m looking forward to both the Saints and LSU this year. LSU has a brutal schedule this year, and has a new coach and a new system. So, we’ll have a better idea of who they are going to be this year after the opener with Clemson in Tiger Stadium. I’ll probably rewatch some classic old LSU games–well, have them on in the background while I either read or write or clean–to start getting amped up for the season. I love college football!

I started watching The Burbs, which I am also enjoying; I love Keke Palmer and am enjoying the show so far. (Paul watched it while I was in Alabama last time, so I watch when I have some down time to relax and don’t feel like doomscrolling through Youtube news clips.) I watched the first episode the other night when Paul was late coming home, and I started the second yesterday.

Sorry to be so brief this morning, but don’t really have a lot to say or talk about this morning. This was my first Friday at home without having to deal with something–employee development day, the car, meeting, etc.–and so this is actually my first regular weekend in a while. I am going to put the dishes away and then reload the dishwasher, and then I am going to take my book and read for a little while. I feel terrific this morning, which is a lovely, lovely departure and I intend to enjoy the day no matter how it turns out.

So, on this note I will depart for the spice mines, and hope that you have the loveliest of Saturdays, Constant Reader, and I will be back with a full report in tomorrow morning.

I love New Orleans in the rain.

Open Your Heart

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah? Huzzah. I slept well again last night–I’m loving all this good sleep this week, seriously–and feel pretty good for a Thursday morning. MY morning is busy today at the office, but not so much this afternoon, so I can get caught up on paperwork and other odds and ends before I go home. I have to stop and make a small amount of groceries on my way home tonight, and then I can chill out. The new season of Reacher has started airing, and we should get some new episodes in other shows we are watching. I think when I get home tonight I am going to get caught up on reality television before Paul and I settle in for the evening with our shows.

I sent out a new newsletter out yesterday (you can click the blue to read it if you would like), about the book of essays on soap operas I recently finished reading and thoroughly enjoyed, Love in the Afternoon and the Evening! It felt good to get another one out–I really do need to answer emails–and I will probably do more newsletters about soaps and aspects of them I enjoyed (murder mysteries, hot guys, etc.) in the future. I need to get back to my essays about masculinity, don’t I? I really do need to sit down and map them out. I also want to finish that essay on gay v. queer. Maybe this weekend? I also want to write one to send out on my birthday next week, not that I have anything witty or wise to say about getting older. Surely, every thing has already been said, and better? Ah, well, that won’t stop me, will it? Not in the least.

The big news is that I finished Chapter Four last night! I wrote over a thousand words last night and polished it off; now I need to go back and make it more cohesive and smooth the continuity–I’m not editing for language or length (I will change some of that, though, I can’t help myself) this time through; it’s just easier to do this continuity shit now before the manuscript gets longer. It also dramatically improved my mood, too. It always feels so good when I have a good writing session! Work was okay yesterday, too–not very busy but just busy enough to make the day pass relatively quickly. The drive home was smooth and easy and frigidly aired1; I also did some chores last night as well as provided a lap for le Sparkster. Paul was late coming home from a board meeting, so we were on our own last night and he was needy, as always (Sparky, i mean). It was marvelous coming down to a clean kitchen this morning–you’d think I’d remember that and make sure I do that every morning, but…sigh. That’s not how I roll, clearly.

Two classic books from the 1970s were on-sale for their ebook editions this week and I got them both: Jaws and Audrey Rose. Both books were what we would call “viral” today; Jaws more so than Audrey Rose, which is a reincarnation story (which has always interested me; it makes more sense than spending eternity singing praises to God2). I didn’t get to go see movies a lot when I was a kid, and of course, before cable and streaming pretty much the only way to see old films was to catch them in their edited for television versions…so, if a movie was based on a book, I would just read the book. (Or the novelization, as I did with The Last of Sheila.) I read Jaws when it came out in paperback, and enjoyed it. Everyone was talking about the book, and it was a huge bestseller. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and even read more of Peter Benchley (The Deep is one I’d love to revisit). I didn’t know much about sharks other than what people would say when we’d be at the beach in Florida in the summer time (trivia note: two of my cousins were extras in Jaws II), so I, as always, looked them up in the World Book Encyclopedia and all the associated entries. We did see the movie when it was released; it was one of those “after church matinees” Mom used to take us to after a lunch at Ponderosa), and the theater was so crowded they had ushers finding seats for people. The only spot with three together was the exact center of the front row….

To watch a shark movie.

It was probably the most terrifying experience I had in a movie theater until some of the Washington Monument stunts in Spider-Man: Homecoming, during which I had to look away because the camera work was so good that it felt like I was on the monument, and yeah, no way, no how, no thanks.

Is Jaws considered a horror novel/film? I mean, it is a monster movie. Horror was certainly having a day in the 1970s, wasn’t it? (I use to call them occult books back then, because I didn’t know that horror was an actual genre until later in the decade, when the media began calling Stephen King a “horror novelist.”)

Audrey Rose isn’t as remembered, partly because the film wasn’t as good as Jaws and it didn’t become a cultural touchstone. It was a big book in the 1970s–I remember it even had commercial ads on television–and it was marketed as straight up horror but it kind of wasn’t. I don’t remember being scared by the book (which I barely remember), more that it was more haunting than anything else, sad and disturbing and melancholic. Anyway, I love reincarnation stories—which goes back to Dark Shadows, as so many things do in my tastes. It’ll be interesting to revisit it; I looked at the first page last night on my Kindle and saw that, yes, indeed–it has a haunting, Gothic sensibility to it, that I always enjoy.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning before I start my work-at-home duties. See you then!

Louisiana has the most spectacular sunsets
  1. It really is astonishing what having working air in the car makes. Honestly. ↩︎
  2. I do wonder how things went viral before the Internet. ↩︎

True Blue

Monday morning after a car-free (yes, not a typo) weekend, and I have to take a Lyft to work this morning. Not a big deal, really; just a matter of timing. I left my work badge in the car when I dropped it off–it never occurred to me to take it, because I didn’t think they’d keep the car all weekend, either. Not a big deal. The big deal will be trying to figure out when I can go pick the car up once it’s finished as I have clients scattered throughout the day, and picking the car up will require another ride. Sigh. But at least I’ll have the car back and I can make some groceries on the eay

I also sent out a new newsletter yesterday, which you can read here. It’s about The Vampire Lestat, which we finished and thoroughly enjoyed, and really, Sam Reid is everything. It felt good to get that sent out, and I also was able to work on the book some yesterday, too. I also read some more of the book I am reading, which I am enjoying and savoring, and probably reading too slow because the language and voice are so hypnotic. I also upgraded the operating systems of both my laptop and desktop; who knew these upgades would, for once, actually be convenient? I was never able to access the back-up hard drive from the laptop, but now I can! Which means I can work on cleaning up my files while in my easy chair and watching television, whenever my mind doesn’t want to work too hard, I can do that. Needless to say, this is epic. (It may not even be that big of a deal, and I may have just not known how to do it before, but now it’s super-easy.)

We lost Frank Perez over the weekend, which is a real loss for the New Orleans queer community. Frank was dedicated to the history of queer New Orleans, and a big part of the scene here. I’ve read several of his histories and loved them all. He was also the driving force behind the LBGTQ+ historical archive in the Quarter, and his walking tours were also popular. We’ll miss you, Frank. I hate that we keep losing literary legends in this town…buy his books, please.

So, last night we started watching The Shards. I remember when the book came out, and it just seemed too meta…the author of Less Than Zero writes another book in the same setting, only this time it’s got the author writing a book about his friends while they are dealing with a serial killer situation. It’s a Ryan Murphy show (of course–stay away from Connor Storrie, Murphy!) so it’s glitzy and gorgeous, and there’s even nepo stunt casting (Cindy Crawford’s daughter! Richard Gere’s son! Cindy and Richard used to be married! Meta meta meta). The soundtrack was killer, of course, and hilariously, the standout set from the film Less Than Zero–the wall of televisions–appears in episode 2. It’s interesting enough, the acting is so-so, but we’ll keep watching, primarily because the main character is either bi or gay, but the men part is very deeply closeted. There’s also some poignance with that, too, but I can never get past how much the actor in the lead looks like Topher Grace, so I keep thinking Eric Forman with money.

I may order the book. I don’t know. I hated Less Than Zero, but loved The Rules of Attraction, and those are the only Ellis novels I’ve read. I can only take so much of the boredom and excesses of rich kids–I knew too many rich, spoiled brats in college who loved nothing so much as leaving behind messes for other people to clean up. (I suppose Ellis has been compared/contrasted to Fitzgerald?)

I did see some posts over the weekend talking about “straight actors who played gay early in their careers”, and they mentioned Dermot Mulroney…who I’d forgotten was in it; he was one of the first in the movie to die from the strange new disease. As heartbreaking as that movie is, it’s my favorite movie about the HIV/AIDS crisis. I started thinking about it more, and remembered how much better it was than Philadelphia (which I hated)…and thought, maybe I should rewatch them both and see if I still feel the same way about both? Needless to say, you can’t stream Longtime Companion anywhere, even to rent, but of course Philadelphia is available. Grrr.1

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy your Monday, and I hope it’s not as wacky and turned around as mine is turning out to be!

  1. Has anyone done a definitive critical analysis of HIV/AIDS books and movies? I’d love to read that. ↩︎

Love Makes the World Go Round

Sunday already? #madness. I am up early this morning after a good night’s sleep, and I feel pretty good. Yesterday wound up being one of those days where I didn’t do much of anything, and I am not one bit sorry about it, so there, LOL. I am not going to allow myself that luxury today, of course, and at least I should be able to get some reading and cleaning done. Or not. I had the television on, but don’t really remember a whole lot of yesterday and that’s also really fine. My time is my own, although I have some things starting to percolate. Another shared anthology is in the works (with Art Taylor and Donna Andrews for Jeffrey Marks’ Crippen & Landru Press), I have a short essay due by the end of the month, and of course, there’s always the book, the newsletter, and some short stories I want to write for upcoming submissions calls. I am trying to get back into the riding saddle again, but I have to be better about my time management, too. That’s the problem with a lot of free time; you can also wind up wasting time because you think you have plenty of it.

And you never do.

It was a bit gloomy when I got up this morning, but the sky has seemingly cleared. We may get some rain this afternoon, which would be nice and cooling. The temperatures have dropped to the low nineties/high eighties, which is more normal for summer in New Orleans, but I have no doubt we’ll get more blast-furnace heat by the end of the month; Labor Day weekend is always insanely hot and humid (which always made Southern Decadence more fun). But the summer is nearing its end (we won’t have cooler weather until October, but the humidity lessens some after Labor Day. A quick perusal of the weather channel and there is a disturbance out in the Atlantic, but no concerns for the moment. With my luck, it’ll probably come here and I’ll have to evacuate for my birthday. (It was my birthday the weekend before Katrina.) No sense borrowing trouble, as my mother used to say–which was funny, given she had generalized anxiety disorder and thus worried about everything,

Everything she could control, at any rate.

It’s kind of nice having my own dialed back to something manageable, seriously.

I am feeling both lazy and productive at the same time this morning. I need to eat something and get some more coffee, for one thing. I’ve got my journal right here with me, and I keep pausing to take notes. I also have The Last House on Needless Street here with me that I can dip into every once in a while, along with my reread of Celebrity. I have two newsletters I can get finished and out soon, and there are also a couple of others I am still working on. There’s always something for me to write, isn’t there? But one thing I definitely want to do this morning is organize the submission calls that I want to try to write something for as well–organizing is something I always enjoy, and it helps when you can look at everything in one single solitary place. I have finally accepted that my once sharp memory is now a thing of the past, and frequently am amazed at what I have forgotten.

I was thinking about this while reading another chapter of Needless Street, and about how wrong so many of my memories of Alabama have so often proven to be…this bothered me quite a bit, since I’ve visited the home county more times in the last four years than I have in the last forty. It bugged me mostly because I have written fiction set there in a fictionalized version based on memory, and if the memories are incorrect…(the reason is it–the book– reminds me of something similar I have been working on for the last decade or so; my own creepy house down the street in a small town and horrors from the past. This morning, the anvil dropped on my head. Fictional version are the keywords here; it’s based on, not an actual representation of the county. I swear to God, I wish I weren’t so literal and stubborn and oblivious, you know? Sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off were I not that way; look at the difference dialing back the anxiety has made. Things to think about and consider, at any rate.

So Miss North Carolina was dethroned this week, so naturally the bitch tried to make it about religious persecution, so she could go the Riley Gaines route in conservative media…and then the pageant released the racist posts where she freely threw around the n word. Sit your racist ass down, skank, and have a folding chair. The “asshole whiner to conservative darling” grift is an entire thing, and always so sadly predictable. Your faith made you a racist piece of shit, did it? Have fun explaining that to your God before he sends you to hell, bitch. And how awesome is it that the title now passes on to a Black woman? Chef’s kiss, no notes–although to be honest, I wasn’t aware that beauty pageants, er scholarship contests, were still a thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Sunday, y’all. I’ll be back in the morning.

I cannot believe I’ve never written a Scotty with a chase scene across balconies in the Quarter.

Lucky Star

Saturday morning and my car is away for the weekend. They are not only doing the body work needed but they are also going to replace the damaged hose and refill the coolant or whatever it is. Freon? Maybe, I don’t know, but it won’t be ready until Monday morning. So I’ll have to take a Lyft to the office Monday morning and pick up the car later in the day. It’s going to cost more than I had hoped but far less than I’d feared. But I am without a vehicle and I am fine with it. I mean, can you imagine having to evacuate without air conditioning? C’est insupportable!

Yesterday was lovely, actually. I did my work and the chores, hung out with Sparky, watched the news (we’re all doomed aren’t we?) because I was a few days behind while I worked, and got most of the chores done. Today I can have some things delivered, and there’s only a few chores left to do this weekend so I can spend it reading and writing, which is marvelous. I should probably get a newsletter out this weekend–I can do one about the book of soap opera essays I finished reading this past week. I also spent some time watching history documentaries–French history is ever so much more interesting than English, really; the curse of the Templars1 and the Tour de Nesle scandal alone makes it better–and read a few chapters of Italian history (this came from the curse of the Templars, whose story actually begins with the French king’s refusal to buckle under to the Pope. (I read a marvelous series of historical novels when I was a teenager called The Cursed Kings, by a French writer named Maurice Druon, about this period–which read more like Game of Thrones than the Wars of the Roses ever did.)

I’m not sure how I am going to spend today–probably reading and relaxing, with the possibility of doing some writing on the horizon. I slept in, and very deeply. Paul has his trainer today and then does cardio, so I’ll be here alone for most of the afternoon with Sparky, who will of course want to sleep in my lap the way he always does when it’s just us. (He was curled up in bed with me this morning while he waited for me to get up for his breakfast.) Cats really are wondrous creatures, aren’t they?

The weather has cooled down some–like turning the oven from 400 down to 375–but of course, we’re so beaten down by the heat by August that low nineties to mid eighties seems almost like fall. (I almost walked home from the body shop yesterday morning, but decided not to risk it. I was sweating at SEVEN THIRTY in the morning standing in the shade waiting for my driver!) I do need to order things for delivery, too, since I don’t have a vehicle for the weekend, which is again, progress. (I would have rented one for the weekend before, but…I can have things delivered and I don’t have to go anywhere.)

And on that note–sorry to be so dull–I’m heading into the spice mines. Happy Saturday, everyone!

Former pro wrestler Alex Wright was a very pretty man.
  1. Remember when The Da Vinci Code turned the Templars into a publishing fad? I do. ↩︎

Borderline

Friday morning and here we go.

You will be pleased to know that I am yet again certified for CPR, for the thirty-first time or so. This is more of an intense version–the clinic thing–and some things have changed, so I am glad I had to do it again this year. I’ve never had to use it–we have an emergency response team that responds to a code call–and some of the people in my department are on that team (I’ve seen them save multiple lives over the years) but it’s nice to know I can help if necessary.

I am about to get a second cup of coffee and start getting ready to take the car to the body shop. I’ll just grab a Lyft home. I have an on-line meeting at nine, and plenty of work to keep my busy this work at home Friday. It’s also supposed to rain this afternoon, and it’s under eighty degrees this morning–under eighty in New Orleans in August? Madness. I wasn’t tired after work yesterday, but didn’t do a whole lot when I got home other than pick up some things and catch up on the news. (Always a pleasure to do…) We did watch the season finale of The Vampire Lestat, which was different from the ending of the book but definitely ended on a cliff-hanger, which was an interesting choice. I also slept really well again, which was lovely. I am hoping for a good weekend again, but don’t really have any plans for the weekend other than reading, writing, some errands, and cleaning. I did finish reading Love in the Afternoon and Evening (more on that later), and hope to make some progress on The Last House on Needless Street as well.

Okay, the car has been dropped off at the body shop I use on the Earhart1, and I was sweating in buckets by the time the Lyft came–which was deliciously cold when I climbed into the back seat. Ah, this is what it’s supposed to feel like inside a car in the summer. The way New Orleanians forget every year how hot it gets in the summer needs to be studied–along with the comment “I don’t remember it getting this hot before” which is part of that protective amnesia I suppose. I said that on social media to a friend–who’d had dinner with someone earlier in the week who’d said the same thing. We do tend to talk about the weather here a lot, even if it’s just “whew, shore is hot this mornin’/afternoon/evenin’.” (Which is why Elmore Leonard’s writing advice to never start with the weather doesn’t work here. It affects everything.)

But “how to write” manuals are merely authors (or professors) telling others who are interested in writing and getting better. Nothing is tried or true in writing; one of the reason I turn off the spell/grammar check in word is because sometimes I want to use a sentence that may not be grammatically correct–and don’t even get me started on what that shit does to a stream-of-consciousness run-on sentence inside a character’s head. We don’t think in grammatically correct sentences and paragraphs; we also don’t speak that way. I certainly don’t, but that’s also me extrapolating my experience to everyone’s experience, which is a fallacy–yet something everyone does. A few years ago I read something and knit my brows together, thinking no gay would ever–and had to stop and remind myself that actually, some probably would. Our community, after all, is no freer from quislings than any other marginalized group. Sad, but a fact. That’s the mote in our collective eyes; the default that our own experience is the default and everyone thinks like we do….like how racists assume every other white person is also a bigot. (I’ve shocked a few, which is fun.)

And on that note, I am going to make some breakfast and get ready for my meeting. Have a lovely and great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

The Rhode Island mansion that was a stand-in for Collinwood on Dark Shadows.
  1. I also asked for estimates for the damage acquired from other New Orleans drivers while parked. Thanks again, trash! ↩︎

Burning Up

Thursday morning and the last day in the office for me this week. But I slept amazingly well last night, and feel rested and refreshed this morning. Today is going to be hectic–I have back to back clients all morning, and then this afternoon I have to renew my CPR license, which will take the rest of the day. Heavy heaving sigh. I do think, though, that I can come straight home tonight and chill. That would be lovely, and I can get caught up on chores that I won’t have to do over the weekend. We can also finish The Vampire Lestat, which we are both loving, and some other new shows/seasons have dropped as well that I need to explore. I also want to finish reading my books this weekend. I read some more of Love in the Afternoon and Evening, which I am really enjoying (thanks again, Kristopher, for the recommendation), and also want to get more into the new fiction read as well as the reread.

Yesterday was a bit rough. I didn’t sleep well Tuesday night (I may have forgotten to take my night time pills), and so was either over-caffeinated or tired most of the day at work. It was just busy enough to keep me on my toes, but not so busy I was miserable. Oddly enough, I did catch a second wind later in the afternoon–which was a relief, as I had a dinner date–and came home and changed before heading uptown to Le Petit Grocery for dinner, which was superb. (I even allowed myself a dirty martini, but just one.) The company was even more superb, as it always is–I really do have the most amazing friends. I actually didn’t feel tired at dinner, and yes, of course I got tired when I got home, but…I slept amazing last night and feel fantastic this morning.\

Yesterday was a bit on the insane side, at least in the world of social media and author organizations. I only currently belong to ITW (no membership fee) and Sisters in Crime. (Sisters always has and always will have a special place in my heart because they’ve all been so great and supportive of me, personally and professionally.) I’ve not belonged to HWA in a long time, but not out of any sense of oh they are so awful or anything like that; I chaired World Horror Con for them here in New Orleans in whatever year that was (I want to say 2014, but it may have been 2015; who can keep track anymore?), which I actually enjoyed doing, working mostly with Rocky Wood and Lisa Morton–and I became very fond of them both. When I saw the first rumbles about a controversy involving their newsletter yesterday on-line, my first thought was literally Thank God I am not on any boards anymore and the second was oh no poor Lisa (before remembering she isn’t president anymore) and finally to I am SO glad I am not on any writer’s organization boards anymore. As for the op-ed, I know the person who wrote it, and of course, someone sent me a link so I could read it. It was…badly written and poorly argued. I saw her claim that the piece was theoretically about bullying, to which my response was clearly, straight white lady, you’ve never been bullied. No, dear, your piece was about bullying authors for using generative-AI–you know, the thing that stole my work for training purposes? No, bitch, I am never using any generative-AI in any way with my work because it is my work and they STOLE from me and almost every published author in this country. As for those writers who do use generative A.I.? I won’t bully you but I also will not read you. I lost interest in the controversy when it became apparent a lot of people were jumping on the bandwagon to slam HWA, which I wasn’t interested in. I don’t publicly bash writers’ orgs because I have sat on their boards before and I know all the concomitant difficulties–as well as battles–that happen behind the scenes. Whether I agree with the decisions they make is a different story, but I try not to critique because I also know I don’t have the whole story. HWA reacted to the backlash very quickly, removed the person from their board, and issued an apology. The bashing still went on, and yes, it can be frustrating when you’re on the outside, but I at least don’t need to know anything more, and I am not a member of HWA. I prefer to believe that everyone behind the scenes is doing the best they can at crisis management, and to give the benefit of the doubt.

But, for future reference, straight white people? Don’t use the word “gatekeepers” so blithely and freely. It’s a term for the exclusion of non-straight not-white people, and the predictable process those of us they chose to publish wind up going through–and it’s incredibly offensive to be accused of that simply because I don’t want to use, or read anything by, generative-AI. Fuck you for that cultural appropriation now and forever, even if it was unintentional, it was still incredibly offensive. Use your generative-AI if you want. But you don’t get to tell me how I can or should feel about it, unless you’re paying the rent. If not, shut the fuck up and take a folding chair.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely day, Constant Reader; I’ll be back tomorrow after I drop the car off.

L. A. Knight from WWE

Holiday

Here it is Tuesday morning, and yesterday wasn’t terrible, frankly; it definitely could have been worse. I felt a little spacy in the morning, and got a little bit tired in the afternoon, but nothing terrible. The day at work was productive and quiet. I slept well Sunday night, and was reluctant to get up yesterday morning. But neither Sparky nor my alarm would be denied, so I tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of ambition. LOL, as if. More like fumbled down the stairs and turned on the Keurig to make a cup of coffee while Sparky spoke vehemently to me because I wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking–nothing new, when he wants something he wants it NOW. I slept well last night, and yet again didn’t want to get up again this morning, but I survived and got up. I ran a lot of errands on the way home last night–mail, pharmacy, made groceries–and was worn out, hot, and crabby by the time I got home. I did do the dishes and ran the dishwasher overnight, too. I’m trying to keep up better this week, so this weekend I’m not facing another mess–since I have car stuff to deal with this weekend, which means getting up early both Friday and Saturday. Yay! But at least next weekend is my birthday (already) and a lovely four day weekend, with Labor Day weekend not that far behind, either.

We watched House of the Dragon last night, with only one more episode left to go in this season as the show rushes to its final denouement. I”m enjoying the show a lot more, especially since I am realizing almost everyone in the cast will be dead by the series finale–and since so many of them are so completely unlikable, that will be fun. At this point, no one deserves to sit on the Iron Throne, frankly. This, to me, is more like the Wars of the Roses, which was theoretically the basis for Game of Thrones; when that conflict ended there were hardly any Plantagenets left alive as the family pruned the branches of its family tree. (I read in a history once that “the primary English crisis of the fifteenth century was Plantagenet fertility, while the sixteenth’s was , ironically, Tudor sterility.”) The entire thing is Viserys’ fault for not making Daemon his heir when he had no sons; no one would have argued with him then picking his own son over Daemon, as inheritance was to be expected to pass that way, in male primogeniture. Ah, folly in reality makes for great drama in fantasy.

I’m surprised dystopian fiction isn’t rising in popularity, actually.

I did work on the book a bit last night, which was absolutely lovely. Chapter Four is drawing closer and closer to its (first draft) finish, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Given all the life irritations and aggravations I’ve been dealing with lately, I am pleased to be back in the writing saddle again. I do enjoy creating, and even when it’s a struggle (which it is sometimes), there’s always a sense of, I don’t know, rightness whenever I’ve finished writing for the day. I was, to be honest, more than a little concerned that getting my anxiety disorder under control might take the drive to write away from me, and I have fallen off the old production schedule that I used to have, but it’s nice to rediscover my joy and to know the medication taking the edge off isn’t affecting my writing, now that I am in a place where I am writing again. I also have noticed the insecurity/Imposter Syndrome has also dried up almost completely (it still rears its ugly head every now and then), which is absolutely a godsend.

Alas, I’ve not cracked any of the three books I am currently reading since the weekend. Paul is coming by the office at the end of the workday so I can take him to get his new glasses at Costco. We’ll be heading against traffic–it’s a very easy drive to Costco from my office, thanks to I-10–so it won’t be too terrible. I am also choosing to see this weekend’s car stuff as a positive. I’ll have a/c again when it’s all over and done with, and I can read while I am waiting for the car when I’m at the dealership (not waiting at the body shop for it), and I will already be on the West Bank, so maybe I can run by Sam’s while I’m there and stop at Sonic for lunch. I can also get a lot done while I’m home waiting for the body shop to finish working on the car. So, over all, a positive, and I can sleep in on Sunday morning if need be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and may you have plenty of tacos! See you tomorrow morning!

Are we really supposed to believe he has a beard and NO body hair? LOL.

Think of Me

Monday morning and here we go again, climbing back onto the carousel of yet another work week. I feel good this morning, even if the weekend felt truncated with dealing with the car and being exhausted all day Saturday (and rather listless). My supervisor will only be in today before she leaves for an Ryan White funding conference, and I have to renew my CPR license on Thursday afternoon. I’m also having dinner with a friend on Wednesday, so there’s a lot on my agenda this week to keep track of; it’s so easy to forget things these days. Here’s hoping for a better week!

Okay, let me tell you the deal with my car.

I took it in early Friday morning to get the oil changed, the tires rotated and to have the a/c checked out. The good news is we know why it isn’t blowing cold air; the bulkhead had shifted somehow, and where it is at, it pierced the hose the connects the freon to the a/c, so it drained. However, they can’t replace the hose without having the bulkhead fixed or replaced; because it would just happened again. It took them all day to finally give up on the body shop and send me an Uber to get the car. This freaked me out, of course, and while I didn’t have a mental reaction thanks to my medications, I had the physical reaction of adrenaline spike, heart rate increase, etc., which was probably why I was so tired and exhausted Saturday. I also looked the “bulkhead” up on line–I was thinking about bulkheads, like on ships–and the part, if it needs to be replaced, isn’t even two hundred dollars, so any concerns about potential affordability were alleviated. I just have to deal with the heat and no a/c until I can get it to a body shop this coming Friday, and then back to the dealership on Saturday to get the hose and freon taken care of.

Cars are exhausting, aren’t they?

I have to say, the schadenfreude of watching the inevitable immolation of Jeannine Pirro’s life and career over this past weekend has been nothing more than chef’s kiss, no notes. The hilarity of seeing the minions, again and again, forgetting they don’t have immunity from illegal orders and watching the scorpion sting them repeatedly will never get old to me, never. The hubris of this bootlicking pointlessly arrogant piece of shit was due to bring her down eventually, and it’s almost as enjoyable as the downfall of that miserable pig Pam Bondi and her burn book. May they all endure humiliations galore. And I mean all of them.

Remember: “I was just following orders” isn’t a defense in court.

Have fun with your civil liability, Judge Boxowine, and you should be charged with malicious prosecution and abuse of the courts. Hopefully, he’ll die without giving your skank ass a pardon. Then again, you publicly called him a liar, so no pardon for you. I am sure being disbarred is also in your future.

Good.

I worked on the book some. I was struggling with chapter four, which made it hard to get back to–ugh, it’s work and it’s hard–but yesterday I felt good (and brave) enough to look at it again…and what I had been struggling to do? It was because I was trying too hard and basically sketched out, in less than four hundred words, what was going to happen in the first fifteen hundred to two thousand of the chapter, so I went to work. It’s nice not having a deadline to stress me out, but at the same time it also allows me to step away from it for a bit without worrying too much about losing/wasting time. I hope to get this chapter out of the way tonight when I get home–I have to make groceries, too, on the way–and run the dishwasher tonight while I sleep. I also got some reading in, which was amazing. I love lazy Sundays when I can just get things done.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy your Monday as much as you can, and I will be back here tomorrow morning bright and early.

This abandoned country house kind of reminds me of my maternal grandmother’s home, which is now abandoned and crumbling and overgrown like this. She had a front porch, though.

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?