Category: books i’ve read

You and I

Sunday morning after a relaxing Saturday in the Lost Apartment. I went by to get the mail and stopped at the Fresh Market, then went back later to CVS to get my booster vaccine for COVID-19 and pick up my post-operative medications (my BASTARD insurance refused to cover the oxycodone, of all things. I hope this surgery costs them a fucking fortune). The games on television weren’t very interesting, frankly, and the only one that had any potential at all turned into a blow-out (Georgia-Tennessee). It was kind of a laid-back bland boring kind of day, which was kind of necessary. The prescription issue–I stopped by CVS on my first trip uptown, but one of my prescriptions wasn’t ready (the one I had already called to approve over the phone) but it turned out the reason they kept not filling it was because the insurance wasn’t paying for it and I had to say, “yes, I will pay out of pocket for it, thank you” which was why I had to go back later in the afternoon–so I figured I may as well make a vaccination appointment for when I do go back. You know me, always trying to be as efficient as possible and to utilize my time more effectively; seriously, I know now it’s an anxiety thing. I never quite understand my anxiety and what triggers it or causes it, or how many coping systems I have engineered over the course of my life to work around it–which turns into compulsive behavior.

I’ve yet to figure out how the obsessive part of me comes from the anxiety, but I am sure I will at some point.

My arm–the one I am having the surgery on–is sore this morning because I figured I might as well get used to that arm hurting and had the booster shot in that arm. I slept deeply and well last night; I went to bed shortly after the LSU game concluded with a 56-14 score with Jayden Daniels tying the school record for most touchdowns in a game (the other was Joe Burrow’s eight against Oklahoma in the 2019 play-offs…but Burrow scored seven in the first half and the eighth on the first drive of the second half before sitting out the rest of the game (LSU could have scored a hundred that day had they been so inclined; that game still boggles my mind that it actually happened–as well as how). If there’s any justice in the world Daniels will win the Heisman Trophy (he is clearly the best player in the country), but welcome to 2023 and college football. An impressive showing against Texas A&M won’t hurt his chances, for sure–but the fact LSU has a terrible defense this year shouldn’t overshadow what he’s accomplished with our offense. As an LSU fan, it boggles my mind that we have one of the best offenses of all-time, and yet our defense–always a point of pride in Tigerland–is one of the worst when our defense has historically always been vastly superior to our offense. We used to lose because the offense couldn’t score; now we lose because our defense is terrible. Even last night at first it looked like “same-old same-old,” with Georgia State scoring on their first two possessions before the defense clicked into gear and they never scored again.

Tulane also won again yesterday. Well done, Green Wave!

I spent some time reading Lou Berney’s Dark Ride yesterday and I am loving this book so much. Hardly, the stoner burnout loser main character, is probably one of my favorite characters I’ve read in quite some time; he resonates with me, especially with his newly awakened sense of right and wrong–which does not, I might add, change anything for his normal circumstances–he’s still a stoner burnout, still gets high as he puzzles his way into figuring out what to do next, and whether he should keep carrying about these random two kids he saw one day that might be victims of physical abuse. He reminds me in some way of a modern day American Don Quixote; I don’t know if that was what Berney was going for, but I can tell you this–he has nailed the voice of this character, and the story itself is quite good–and of course the writing, as always with Berney’s work, is spectacular…and it’s quite inspiring.

It also feels weird knowing I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow. Tomorrow is the last day I have to get everything ready in the apartment before the surgery–laying in supplies and getting everything ready to go for Tuesday. I suspect that I am going to be in some kind of drugged stupor for the first two days at least, and maybe by next weekend I’ll be lucid enough to be able to write a blog post; I don’t know. I suspect yesterday’s low energy was in some ways triggered by the knowledge of the surgery coming along with slight irritation over the prescription issue. But I made my meatballs last night (Paul astutely pointing out that I really make meatball stew rather than meatballs in gravy, and that is a very thin line) and they were very good. I also did some straightening up around here–I was expecting Paul to go work with his trainer and then go to the office for the afternoon, but his trainer canceled on him and he stayed home–moving down to lay on the couch and (hopefully) make a bed for Tug/Sparky; unlike Scooter, Tug’s a little more restless and he’s kind of gotten used to using my lap in the easy chair as his bed–and sure enough, he spent most of the day sleeping in my lap as I lazily scrolled through social media, looked things up on Google, and basically did nothing productive while watching yesterday’s (mostly boring) games. I probably should have watched Kansas-Kansas State, which the Wildcats won in a shoot out 31-24 (when was the last time both teams in the rivalry game had winning records? The futility of the college football teams in the state of Kansas is astonishing, even with KSU turning things around in the last thirty years–they’ve beaten KU fifteen straight times now). I’ll go look at what happened around the country in the sport once I finish writing this and move on to the easy chair to finish Lou’s book so I can write about it later. And I need to do some more blatant self-promotional posts before I wind up not being able to post anything at all for who knows how long?

Heavy sigh.

And on that note, I am taking my coffee and Dark Ride to my easy chair, only to emerge from it to get more coffee until I am finished reading it, and have started my next read, Zig Zag, by J. D. O’Brien. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later on today at some point as well….and I just remembered there is no Saints game today, so I have no excuses.

The Look of Love

It truly is incredible what a shithole of a site The Site Formerly Known as Twitter has become under the tenure of that brilliant modern thinker Elon Musk (Narrator voice: those adjectives were meant as sarcasm). Every time I go there to cross-post the blog or something, it only takes a moment or two before I am getting the fuck out of that hellish place. I know I should probably just deactivate and be done with it as it fades away into memory like MySpace did once upon a time, but something keeps me there–despite knowing its immoral to even scroll a little bit, and definitely against my own personal ethics–but I think it’s more along the lines of watching a slow-motion disaster movie, frame by frame.

If only it would bankrupt him financially, to go along with his moral and ethical bankruptcies.

Yesterday wasn’t a very good day around the ranch. I was low energy all day, and while i did get all of my work-at-home duties taken care of and handled, after running errands and having a ZOOM call with three very dear friends (who undoubtedly are sick of me talking too much on ZOOM calls), I was just flat out exhausted and simply collapsed into my easy chair with my purr kitty for the evening. I did watch a lengthy documentary about the Eastern Roman Empire, and how the Holy Roman Empire was western Europe’s attempt to recapture and regrasp the legacy of Imperial Rome, to the point of rebranding the real Roman Empire as the Byzantine, or Greek, Empire. (The history of “western” civilization is full of these sorts of reclaimings and rebrandings, as the West sought to basically claim the history of civilization in general.) It just goes to show you–the history we all learned in public school was biased and written to enhance and create a foundation for white supremacy to rest upon. There’s a rather lengthy personal essay to be written about having to relearn everything I learned as a child as an adult because it was all wrong–or people could just read Howard Zinn’s work.

Today I do have some errands to run and vaccines to get injected into my arms; I also have things around the house I need to get done. I am going to make Swedish meatballs today in the slow cooker, I think; that’ll be a nice treat to go along with the LSU game tonight against Georgia State. There really aren’t many great games today–everyone has an “easy” game scheduled for the weekend before the Thanksgiving rivalry games, many of which this is the last go-around for. It’s weird to think LSU won’t be playing their most hated rival, Florida, every year any more (but how delightful to go out with a five game winning streak over them, ha ha ha ha and fuck off, Gators), or that other classic games won’t occur anymore. I don’t know why or when LSU’s Thanksgiving rivalry weekend opponent changed from Arkansas to Texas A&M; that was a fun rivalry with the Razorbacks pulling off some upsets over the years–why is it that everyone plays lights-out when they play LSU?–but that was also a manufactured rivalry that didn’t exist before Arkansas joined the SEC.

I also want to spend some time reading this morning; Lou Berney’s Dark Ride is calling my name and I am really enjoying it. The fun thing about Lou’s work is everything is always different; no two books are ever the same, or even the same kind of voice or style. Every book is an original in every way, and I will go to my grave with The Long and Faraway Gone as one of my favorite crime novels of all time. The one thing I am looking forward to after this surgery is more time to read, and if need be, I can read on my iPad–it’s not like I haven’t downloaded hundreds of books over the years. I’m still enjoying The Rival Queens–man, I love that period of French history–and I think my next read after Lou’s will be Zig Zag, by J. D. O’Brien; since it’s about a weed dispensary heist, coming after Lou’s stoner noir seems like the proper pairing, and then after that I am moving on to the new Angie Kim.

I was exhausted last night so I slept incredibly well. I even slept in this morning, not getting out of bed before eight-thirty like a slag. I feel much more rested and emotionally even this morning, which is a very good thing. I want to get a lot done today–I really need to move furniture and figure out how to make my work station more Big Kitten Energy proof, which is possible but will take some figuring out, and I won’t be able to move anything after Tuesday’s surgery, after all, so I have to get all this stuff done before hand. I don’t feel like I’ve had the chance to think everything through the way it needs to be thought through, nor do I feel like I am prepared for the aftermath and recovery period–which I think was the explanation for yesterday’s low energy; created and maintained completely by my anxiety.

I also want to read this original text version of The Mark on the Door, a Hardy Boys mystery.

We watched Blue Beetle last night, and I really enjoyed it. First, it was lovely seeing a Latinx family centered in a super-hero movie, and to have a super-hero of Mexican ancestry. It had some really funny moments (as well as some that made me go huh?), and as far as DC/Marvel movies go, it was one of the more solid plots and origin stories, but I’m also not terribly familiar with the Blue Beetle character. I primarily remember/knew him from the Justice League comic books of the late 1980’s/early 1990’s, and he was often teamed up with Booster Gold for comedy. I don’t know what has happened to the character with all the reboots since then, but I appreciated seeing something different from a comic book movie. The lead actor, young Xolo Maridueña, was handsome and appealing and charismatic, and the rest of the cast is fine other than the old witch who gave us Presidents Nader and Sanders because she doesn’t vote with her vagina (maybe you should have, you fucking piece of trash, since your mouth and going everywhere all over 24 hour news to trash Hillary helped give us the current Supreme Court, and you should be shunned and forced to take a Game of Thrones walk of shame down Pennsylvania you fucking hateful bitch–I will carry that grudge to the grave, skank). Seeing that fucking trash was in the cast made me seriously reconsider watching, frankly, and her “acting” was a joke and so horrific that Paul and I spent a good hour recasting with actresses who wouldn’t have just cashed the check and phoned it in the way she did.) The movie is actually strongest when it focuses on the Reyes family and their dynamic (Nana is the absolute best), and while it didn’t pull down the kind of financial numbers a movie like this is intended to (and odds that it’ll be blamed by Hollywood on centering a Latinx family are pretty strong), I do think this is one of the movies that in the future will be reclaimed as a classic and one of the best in the field. I hope there will be a sequel, as was teased at the end.

But I think they’re rebooting the movie universe for DC, so who knows.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous, marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and may whatever teams you’re rooting for today have a nice win–unless you’re a Georgia State fan, of course.

Heartbreaker

Work at home Friday and a good night’s sleep. I did have to get up just before six to feed Tug, but went back to bed for a very cozy hour or so of additional napping on top of the sleep. It felt marvelous, and I feel actually very rested and good this morning, which is always a lovely surprise. I have work-at-home duties to get taken care of and errands to run later when I am finished with them, and then I am going to just rest and relax and read and try to write and edit and clean and organize all weekend. Monday is pre-surgery prep day, and then of course I go under the scalpel on Tuesday (don’t know what time yet). As of today I have to stop taking some of my medications and vitamins to get them out of my system by Tuesday–so really, prep work is beginning today, really. I am also still adjusting to my new teeth. I kind of laughed as I got ready for bed last night–as I took out my teeth, my hearing aids, and removed my glasses; when I am bed I can’t see, hear or talk; I definitely have mush-mouth when I take the teeth out.

I came directly home after work last night; I had to stay later than I usually do because I had to take a longer lunch on Wednesday to drive out to Jefferson Highway to get the teeth. It was already dark when I got home, and Tug of course had wreaked destruction on the workspace during the day–which is yet another reminder of how I have to a) not let the filing pile up anymore and b) might need to reorganize the workspace to limit Big Kitten Energy destruction and/or mess. That could be a very good project for this weekend. LSU is playing Georgia State Saturday night (big deal, right?) and I am not even sure the game is going to even be televised, frankly, or if it is, it’s probably one of those minor SEC network “plus” channels I always have to figure out how to get every single time (it’s an on-going thing with the LSU gymnastics meets), and even glancing over the schedule this weekend there’s really not much of anything, other than Georgia-Tennessee and Kansas-Kansas State; all the big rivalry games are next weekend, so this is kind of a lull weekend before the Thanksgiving weekend extravaganza, which hopefully I won’t be too zonked out on medications to enjoy. I was thinking I might try to make pulled turkey in the slow cooker for Thanksgiving, but I wouldn’t be able to pull it apart. I’m not really sure what our food situation is going to be, in all honesty, until after I am off the painkillers. I’ll have to put some thought into that and make groceries at some point before Tuesday. I know we have things in the freezer that can be thawed out and/or cooked; but it also wouldn’t hurt to have other options available, either.

I got caught up on my reality television shows last night–Real Housewives continue to have this weird hold on my interest and imagination which I can’t really explain; particularly because these women generally are examples of everything I think is wrong with American culture and society–and then got sucked into some more Youtube documentaries about the fall of Rome, the war between Rome and the Gauls, and more about the schism between the Catholic and Orthodox churches–the original split of Christianity and dogma. My fascination with the Eastern Roman Empire continues unabated, as well as my interest in the Hapsburgs and the sixteenth century (I am loving The Rival Queens, my current non-fiction read, and need to read more Nancy Goldstone histories). I also want to finish reading Lou Berney’s Dark Ride this weekend, and get started on my next read before the surgery. I also need to remember to keep hitting save as Tug keeps waltzing over my keyboard and wreaking havoc on my screen. I do feel hopeful that the time out from the office will give me time to do more reading and writing and start working my way out from under everything; one can always hope. It can get overwhelming sometimes just thinking about everything I need to do and get done.

I was also thinking the other day about how I always say I “compartmentalize” my life and my personal history..and wondering if the word I should be using when I say that is “repress”; because isn’t that what you’re doing when you are deliberately trying not to think about your past and things you’ve experienced? Especially when those events can be traumatic? Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but I also think setting personal boundaries for behavior you will and will not accept from friends and acquaintances is healthy. I am pretty easy-going, or at least deceive myself into believing that, because I have this insane and unhealthy need to be liked. As a general rule I tend to not get angry when people cross my boundaries. It takes a while for it to start to get to me, but when I am angry it’s because I care and the behavior has offended my sensibilities in some way. When you get to the point where the reaction you get is for me to go completely cold and stop caring? You’ll never come back from that with me. Once I stop caring, I stop caring–and if that hurts you, it isn’t my problem–because by that point you’ve crossed my boundaries so many times despite multiple warnings (narcissists never listen to warnings because no one would ever give up the AMAZING gift of their friendship–ha ha ha ha ha, Keep dreaming.), yet you continue to throw additional chances given back in my face.

Bye, Felicia.

And on that note, I am going to start getting some things done around here before I start my work for the day. Have a great Friday–and be warned there will probably be Blatant Self-Promotion to come.

A Hard Knock Life

Tuesday night as I talked with Jean, Candice and Harry about my two latest books I suddenly realized–towards the end of the conversation–that technically I have a third book out in current release with my name on the spine.

To wit, this marvelous anthology:

Which, if you like, you can order right here! There are two options to choose from–the clothbound special edition with the cover page signed by all three of us, or the less expensive paperback. I believe there’s also an ebook option.

And look at this table of contents:

How is that for some amazing company to be in, eh? Not to mention the co-editor credit with Art Taylor and Donna Andrews, who are as equally lovely as people as they are insanely talented writers (and highly intelligent people). I mean, my story is sandwiched in between stories by Martin Edwards and Naomi Hirahara, for fuck’s sake.

Rarified air, indeed.

So, who is this Father Knox, and what are these commandments that had to be broken?

Father Knox himself

Father Knox was an early twentieth century mystery writer, who was also a member of the Detection Club, along with contemporaries like G. K. Chesterton and Agatha Christie–speaking of rarefied air–and he came up with the ten commandments for mystery novels:

  1. The Criminal must be someone mentioned in the early part of the story but must not be anyone whose thoughts the reader has allowed to follow.
  2. All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course.
  3. Not more than one secret room or passage is allowable.
  4. No hitherto undiscovered poisons may be used, nor any appliance which will need a long scientific explanation at the end.
  5. No (outdated racist term for someone of Chinese ancestry) must figure in the story.
  6. No accident must ever help the detective, nor must he ever have an unaccountable intuition which proves to be right.
  7. The detective must not himself commit the crime.
  8. The detective must not light on any clues which are not instantly produced for the inspection of the reader.
  9. The stupid friend of the detective, the Watson, must not conceal any thoughts which pass through his mind; his intelligence must be slightly, but very slightly below that of the average reader.
  10. Twin brother, and doubles generally, must not appear unless we have been dully prepared for them.

I mean, how fun would it be to write a story breaking any of these rules, let alone a book doing so (hmmm, tempting–this would be a great fun thing for a Scotty adventure)?

I chose commandment two: all supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course, so I wrote a suspense story that may (or may not) have a supernatural agency involved; “The Ditch,” which is also a Corinth County story and one I am particularly pleased with.

I am going to begin reading the anthology, perhaps a story a day, as part of my Short Story Project (always ongoing) as well as to help promote the anthology, which has as fine a collection of contributors as I’ve ever been associated with.

And the book itself? Gorgeous.

Rock the Casbah

Wednesday morning, can’t trust that day. Not going to work on Monday messed my body clock up and thus set my brain on “not normal! not normal!” and so I am all messed up. All day yesterday I kept thinking it was Monday; this morning I woke up thinking it’s Tuesday, which it obviously is not. I am doing a really good job this morning of not letting anxiety take hold of my mind–it’s trying, really hard–because to complete the “leave” process from work I need a form filled out and signed by my surgeon. (My fault, had I paid more attention I would have known and could have taken it with me Monday morning; instead I had to fax it to his office yesterday and they will send it back today–which has me anxious.) It’s very weird to think that I’ll be out of work for three weeks–very very weird–this is the longest break from going in since the quarantine; and even then I had things to do at home. This is three weeks of not doing any day job work, having no day job responsibilities, and the entire days free to do with as I wish–within the context of being limited by the surgery recovery. I do plan on catching up on a lot of reading, and who knows? Maybe I’ll even be able to get some writing done, during my period of limited activity. At this point I really just want to be done with the surgery and be well into the recovery process.

I did a book event last night virtually with Tubby and Coo’s Bookstore, with Jean Redmann and H. N. Hirsch, which was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed it. Of course, having to use my brain and try to be smart and funny exhausted me, so Tug and I immediately repaired to my chair for an episode of Moonlighting, and some other Youtube videos before I finally went to bed. Paul didn’t get home until after I went to bed, so I didn’t get to see him at all yesterday; it’s that time of year again. I spent some time rereading Mississippi River Mischief and paging through Death Drop again; I’ve fallen behind on my blatant self-promotional posts because my creativity for that has kind of dried up–I’m not very good at it to begin with, really–but I know I need to do more, so I hoped looking through the books after talking about them for an hour would inspire me to find more things to post about them. We’ll see how that worked out today, won’t we?

I need to do some cooking this week, too–I wanted to make my mac-and-cheese (something else relatively soft but very delicious and filling) and I need to make a red velvet cheesecake, too. I don’t think I am going to go into the office on Friday, after all–Tug has to get another shot that morning, and there’s something else I have to do but can’t quite remember what it is as of yet, and at some point I need to take Paul to Costco to pick up his new glasses. But that means I’d have to do all this cooking and baking tonight, and I feel pretty confident in saying “yeah, I’m not going to be in the mood to do that tonight” because it’s a lot of fucking work and I also need to run errands on my way home. (See what I mean about it being later in the week than I think it is? I keep thinking oh you can do it tomorrow night because no I can’t.) I guess it will depend on how I feel when I get finished with everything I have to do tonight, and how much attention my sweet little needy kitten will need once I get home–because once I am in that chair and he’s a purring kitty donut, it’s over for the night. One thing I do find adorable about him (there are many many things I find adorable about him) is the way he sleeps on me. He’ll start out as a kitty donut, and then gradually stretch out on his back until his is sprawled across me full length on his back, legs akimbo, and dead to the world with his neck fully extended. I’m so glad we got him and I’m so glad he feels so safe and comfortable and loved and at home. (He did make a few appearances in the on-line event last night.)

I also have those questions we were asked last night, so I probably could turn those into a self-interview as a means of self-promotion. I’ve done that before, after all, and it always works. Hmmm. Something to ponder the rest of this morning, no doubt.

I am finding the imminent death of Twitter or the Social Medium Formerly Known as Twitter slow and painful to watch, yet for some reason I cannot seem to bring myself to deactivate my account there. I don’t worry that someone else will grab my user name and create a fraudulent Greg Herren account; why would anyone do that to me when there are any number of other, more important people you could impersonate to greater effect than me, after all. (Besides, there’s nothing stopping anyone from impersonating me on social media as it is; someone could be doing it as I type this and I have no idea) Social media used to be a lot of fun in the olden days before Q-Anon and MAGA and conspiracy theories and so forth; in other words, in the golden era pre-small-dicked-billionaire. There were always issues with Twitter and trolls; we always were hearing about people being hounded off Twitter by trolls or outraged mobs of users; there was an “old West” feel about Twitter, and it did seem like public lynchings and humiliations happened there a lot. I was always worried about tweeting something taken a way other than the one intended–which happens very frequently there–and going viral. (Anxiety, I have it about everything because it does NOT discriminate; there’s nothing too small for me to have massive anxiety about.) But I do miss the way Facebook and Twitter used to be–fun and functional places to reconnect with friends and/or readers. Now they’re just bad habits I can’t seem to quit, like smoking cigarettes or snorting coke–things I know aren’t good for me, do nothing for me and if anything at all, are incredibly bad for my mental health, yet can’t seem to stop doing. Well, I quite smoking twelve years ago and haven’t done cocaine since the 1980’s, so I know already I can give up bad habits. I just worry that I’ll lose touch with people I care about and don’t interact with or see enough as it is.

Heavy sigh. Why do small-dicked billionaires have to ruin everything?

But I feel rested and together this morning, much more so than the last few days, so here’s hoping for a good day today–by which I mean one in which I can focus and get shit done.

We’ll see how it goes, I reckon.

And off to the spice mines I go. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll catch you later.

The One You Love

Tuesday and back into the office. My energy spurt after getting home from the pre-operation appointments didn’t last for very long, I’m afraid, and by the middle of yesterday afternoon I was groggy and tired; adrenaline crash from the anxiety rollercoaster, no doubt. We started watching Happy Valley, which is certainly a grim show (I said to Paul, “it’s like a British version of Mare of Easttown“–although obviously Happy Valley came first, but they are very similar in tone and mood: bleak). But the acting and the writing is first rate, and we both are really enjoying it. They called in some prescriptions for me that I’ll need post-surgery, but apparently in checking the CVS website, I have to call them about the pain pills. Terrific. It’s always such a joy trying to reach a pharmacy on the phone. But I have to swing by uptown to get the mail after work today, and so I might as well call so I can pick everything up on my way home from the office.

I am way behind on everything, but I feel a lot better about the post-surgery period. I don’t know how long it’s going to take before the pain goes away, but I imagine I am going to be in a painkiller stupor for at least a couple of days, at the very least. I’ve never really had the kind of surgery where you’re put under and cut on since I had my tonsils out when I was three or four. That’s not bad–going sixty years between surgeries–so I really have nought to complain about, but I kind of wish I had more experience with it so I knew what to expect more; it’s the not-knowing that really triggers my anxiety. Now I am wondering about putting on shirts with the arm-brace on; am I allowed to take it off to put on a shirt if I put it right back on again? Doesn’t the arm need to stay in the same position, even when I am showering? Heavy sigh. They did send me home with a packet of information to read over, so I’ll be doing that today as well. I also have to get the paperwork for my leave finished and turned into Admin today. Heavy sigh. I do have the letter from the surgeon that is required, and I think I have everything I need. (More anxiety, hurray.)

I also need to practice putting the brace on, too. The demonstration wasn’t enough to make me think oh sure I can do this easily on my own with a bent arm.

For the record, I tore my biceps muscle in my left arm back in January. For a number of reasons I am not in the mood to go into right now, I am now finally getting the surgery to have the muscle repaired. It’s a long and slow and painful recovery process; I need to wear the brace for at least three to four weeks, and then it’s physical therapy for months until I get the clearance that it’s all healed and working properly again. I got the distinct impression yesterday that it’ll take about a week for me to be weaned off the pain medications–again, that’s fine, what choice do I have? I don’t know how much, if any, typing I’ll be able to do that first week, and besides, if my brain is scrambled on oxycodone, I wouldn’t be able to write and/or create much anyway. But it didn’t sound like things were going to be as terrible or as worst-case as my mind always seems to want to come up with.

It was also a cold and wet rainy day yesterday; we’ve not had rain in quite some time–not nearly as much as usual in our tropical clime–so the whole day had that undercurrent and wet and cold that I’ve not experienced in quite some time (last winter, to be precise) and so that was also off-putting. I felt cold all day, was wrapped up in a blanket in my easy chair as I doom scrolled social media, watched some documentaries on Youtube (the wives of Charlemagne; the separation of power between the Church and the Holy Roman Empire; and the Black Death), and also caught an episode of Moonlighting, in which Maddie’s mother thinks her husband is cheating so David and Maddie investigate. I also saw some social media posts about Moonlighting not aging as well as I had originally thought, which was worrying. I have such fond memories of the show, and I’ve been enjoying rewatching it, and I thought I was paying attention to the “well it was a different time” things–but I didn’t really see the show as misogynist as I feared it would be, and there were other things that I was certain wouldn’t hold up on–casual homophobia? Casual racism? Casual misogyny? It was written and filmed in the same decade that gave us such great misogynist comedies as Porky’s, Sixteen Candles, and Weird Science (don’t @ me; I don’t make the rules), so how could it not be problematic on some levels today? I’m also a little disappointed that my rewatching didn’t somehow note the red flags (I actually posted at one point that I was surprised it wasn’t more offensive); but it’s also the classic set-up arrangement for old-style screwball romantic comedies–one prim and proper character, another who is spontaneous and always up for a good time and both learn from each other as they grow together into coupledom. I know there are some issues in the old movies too–but I still love them.

Perhaps that might make a good essay?

And today is the official release day for Mississippi River Mischief!

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me. Have a great Tuesday, everyone!

Missing You

Well, that wasn’t too bad. I managed to rein in my anxiety–I even waited to leave the house for the appointment, how bold i felt resisting the urge to leave an hour early for a sixteen minute drive–and off I went on a gray drizzly morning to Metairie. It was kind of interesting, really; I am not, after all, going to have a cast after the biceps repair surgery, but rather a flexible brace that will keep my arm bent at a ninety-degree angle–and if I take the brace off (to shower in, for example) I just have to keep the arm bent that way. I won’t be able to shower until the day after Thanksgiving, which will be delightful to be around, I am sure. I will have oxycodone for peaks in the pain, and prescription-strength Tylenol every six hours. I won’t be able to drive for an entire week–the pain meds, mostly–but after my first pre-op appointment, I should be fine. I requested that they recommend me for a three-week medical leave, thinking it would be easier to get it extended if necessary rather than cutting it shorter–and I get to turn in all that paperwork to HR tomorrow. I don’t think this is going to be nearly as dreadful and scary as I was fearing, and hopefully the PT won’t be terrible. I have the brace, as well as the body soap I need to use the night before and morning of the surgery, I just can’t eat or drink after eleven pm the night before (I am always in bed by ten at the latest anyway), and hopefully things will go smoothly. I’ve got my wagon for grocery orders and so forth to be brought in, and I think I’ll even be able to type–not as quickly or as accurately, of course, but according to Dr. Google I wasn’t even going to be able to do that part, either.

Although it does raise the question of how to put on shirts….hmmm. I generally don’t like not wearing a shirt around the house. (Shirtlessness at home? Never! In a gay bar? Almost the entire time!) But I will survive. I also think I am going to start my time out of the office next Monday. It makes the most sense to not go in on Monday–and I’ll do like this week, go in and work on Friday to make up for it–I can get everything ready and prepared for my absence. I kind of take care of a lot of stuff around the office that I don’t even think my supervisor would be able to sit down and list everything without forgetting things, so…yeah. It’ll be interesting when I return to the office after my time out.

So I have the rest of the day off, and now that I am home I am feeling more energetic and alive than I did all weekend–clearly the pre-op appointments were weighing heavily on my brain–so I am going to try to get all the stuff done today that I managed to blow off over the weekend. There’s a load of dishes to put away and another load to go in the dishwasher, all that filing and organizing I completely ignored, and of course, Lou Berney’s Dark Ride to read; I didn’t have much time to wait for any of the appointments this morning so I could crack the book back open. So I think I’ll take care of the dishes first, and do some organizing before spending some time with Lou’s book. I don’t think there’s enough to laundry to warrant doing a load, but I can check on that as well.

It’s also lovely breezing through all of this without having to open my wallet. Thank heavens for a paid-off deductible. They also have already called in all my prescriptions for post -surgery care, so I will have everything waiting for me at home when I get back from the surgery. I’m also going to have a “numbing ball” attached to my shoulder with a three day supply of numbing stuff, and an ice contraption machine of some sort to keep my arm numbed and cold for several days. Not going to lie–not a big fan of cold things, outside of ice cream and ice cream products–and that could be kind of a drag too, but I am assuming that those first few days at home I’m going to be mostly in a drug-induced stupor on those days. I probably should be a bit concerned about food, too–how can I cook with one hand? How can I eat with one hand? Probably a really good thing I was already on this liquid diet, right?

But this is the beginning of the end of the arm issue, thank you baby Jesus, and I can look forward to probably actually getting back into the gym and working out again by the end of March, which will be nice. I think I may reactivate the membership in January, just so I can start doing cardio and stretching again.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy the rest of your day, Constant Reader, as I am planning on doing. I am sure there’s also another episode of Moonlighting in my future.

eye in the sky

So it’s Monday morning and I took the day off from work, as I have to head out to Metairie for my pre-operation meetings and clearances and so forth. Woo-hoo. But at least today I expect to know what my recovery is going to look like, and how much time I will actually need to be out of the office. I didn’t sleep great on Saturday night, despite LSU’s big win over Florida, and was up before seven yesterday morning and not really feeling like doing much of anything. I did spend some time with Lou Berney’s delightful Dark Ride, which is like nothing he’s done before–something I always deeply admire with authors–and I really love the voice of his main character. There’s a reason Lou’s won every conceivable award from crime fiction writing; his work is exceptional and I only wish he were more prolific. Hardly is memorable, for many reasons that I cannot wait to get into when I’ve finished reading the book.

The Saints played abysmally yesterday, so I was glad I decided I was too drained already to expand any more emotional energy on watching the game. I was very low energy all weekend, which isn’t surprising, given that I’m kind of dreading the information I am going to be getting today even as I know it’s information that I need to have in order to make decisions that need to be made. Heavy sigh, yes, small wonder I was low energy all weekend. But that’s okay; I did actually think about writing this weekend, and did some of the mental groundwork and even wrote a scene in longhand in my journal, of all things. I also started coming up with names for characters for the next book, which is always fun, and started thinking about which direction to take the story. This is progress, and I will accept that gratefully without flagellating myself or wishing I had produced more and had written something on the computer.

I’m not going to lie, my anxiety is spiking this morning and so I am going to need to struggle a bit with it this morning. I know I’m just borrowing trouble, and being anxious or nervous about the appointments this morning will not change and/or affect what I am going to be told today, which is knowledge I am going to try to use as I sit here to calm my nerves and keep my adrenaline from spiking. I’m going to take Lou’s book with me this morning to read while I wait at the surgeon’s office, and thank God for good books with great writing from talented friends, right? It’s weird to think I’m having surgery next week and it’s also Thanksgiving week, too. I am not sure what we’re going to do for the holiday, since it’s two days after my surgery, but I can get some things over the weekend for it and hopefully it won’t be too big of a deal to make pulled turkey in the crockpot, but then how will I shred the meat with just one hand? A conundrum, for sure. I am going to probably be learning all kinds of lessons in these coming weeks about how imperative it is to have two hands–which is ableist thinking, I know; some people make do their entire lives with merely one hand.

The big news in college football is that Texas A&M went ahead and fired their head coach, Jimbo Fisher, triggering the biggest payout ever for a fired football coach. I thought, at the time, that the contract extension was insane; all he’d managed to do was take A&M to a one-loss season during a pandemic and a limited schedule. They finished in the top ten that year, if I am remembering correctly, but they still didn’t win their division or make it to Atlanta, so I thought it was presumptuous. Of course, this was also right around the time that it was becoming apparent that LSU was going to fire Ed Orgeron, and Fisher had been a target before Orgeron was hired….so A&M was preemptively moving to keep their coach from leaving for Baton Rouge. But A&M underperformed other than that one season, and it was a very bad deal–it’s costing them almost eighty million dollars to fire Fisher, which is also going to create a massive mess for hiring a replacement and for the replacement as well. Fisher was terminated immediately and not being allowed to finish out the season, so when A&M rolls into Tiger Stadium Thanksgiving weekend, they’ll be led by an interim coach. It’s not the first time the LSU-A&M game has had an interim head coach calling the game, either, nor will it be the last, most likely. I mean, seriously–how much money do the Aggie Exes have, for Christ’s sake?

Apparently, a lot. I would imagine the Longhorns are even richer, and they’ll be in the SEC next year.

We finished watching Karen Pirie last night, and it was on the third episode that I realized I’d read the book on which it was based–The Distant Echo, which I had greatly enjoyed. We also are watching the second season of the Jane Seymour crime series, Harry Wild, which is enjoyable–and applause for Ms. Seymour for allowing herself to age gracefully. There you see the primary difference between British and American actresses; Maggie Smith, Diana Rigg, Helen Mirren and Judi Densch have allowed themselves to age, and it’s a beautiful thing to see–whereas American actresses their age now have rigid faces filled with Botox and filler and with all their skin pulled back tightly. It always seemed to me that having a face incapable of movement or expressing emotion would be a negative for an actress, but their insecurities and fears are also predicated on generations of youth worship in Hollywood and sweeping actresses out the door once they’ve hit forty. (In All About Eve the age issue for Margo was turning forty; that same year Sunset Boulevard gave us fifty-year-old has-been Gloria Swanson. The irony that Jessica Lange and That Woman were twenty years older when they played Crawford and Davis in Feud–in which the two fifty-something women miraculously revived their careera–wasn’t lost on this viewer.)

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and start getting ready for this morning’s round of pre-surgery appointments. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back this afternoon for some blatant self-promotion.

Louisiana Saturday Night

There are few things more Louisiana than rooting for LSU…unless its rooting for the Saints, maybe. Southern people love their football, especially the college variety.

Paul and I have not been to a game since 2021, when our “never saw the Tigers lose in person” streak, which began with the Mississippi game in 2010, came to an end with the only loss to Auburn in Tiger Stadium this century. We managed to make it through twelve seasons without ever seeing the Tigers lose while we were at the stadium, which is a pretty good run.

Chanse was an LSU alum–he even played football there–and I think I’d idly mentioned in the first book that he’d been injured in the Sugar Bowl in the last game of his senior year, and never elaborated more than that on his past at LSU. I think there were some more reflections in the second book in that series, but I know I never brought it up again after the second book in the series. I have an in-progress Chanse novella, which is set on the LSU campus at his old fraternity, but I don’t know if I’ll ever finish the story of the fraternity murder. As for Scotty, his background was so vastly different from Chanse’s that I couldn’t really send him to LSU. Men in his family on his mother’s side all go to Vanderbilt; his sister Rain went to Baylor. Storm did his undergrad at Vanderbilt but went to Tulane Law. Scotty of course flunked out of Vanderbilt (his parents rebelliously chose UNO), but the whole family on both sides root for LSU.

And of course, Valerie’s twin sons go to LSU in A Streetcar Named Murder.

I also make the point that the murder victim–a cousin of Scotty’s–in Mississippi River Mischief, along with his wife and kids, went to LSU; the wife was even a Golden Girl with the marching band (the kids are current students there). I built an entire Scotty mystery around the kidnapping of Mike the Tiger, the live mascot who lives on campus (Baton Rouge Bingo) and while I’ve not really done a lot of referencing of LSU in the Scotty series since that particular book, that is probably going to change with one of the upcoming books in the series. I roughly have plans for three more–one set during the summer of 2019, while the boys are living in the dower house on Papa Diderot’s estate in the Garden District; another during the cursed Carnival of 2020, and then a pandemic shut down book…and that just might be the end of the series. It may not be–I will probably keep writing Scotty books as long as I can type and the synapses in my brain still fire–but I am not going to rule out ending the series, either. Depending on what happens with my surgery and my recovery, I hope to write the next Scotty this coming spring.

And there are some things from this current book I’ll have to deal with in the next as well–as well as Scotty’s grandparents and parents aging. I’m thinking the cursed Carnival book will deal with a death in the Bradley family and the fall-out from Papa Bradley’s will. (I’ve only really gone into the Bradley side of the family once; and there’s a lot to unearth and explore there.)

I’m also toying with the idea of writing a book from Taylor’s perspective, and there’s always that Colin book I’ve been wanting to write forever.

So, if you want the series to continue, it will help if you order a copy of it!

Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous

As I was saying in my other blatant self-promotional post of today (for Mississippi River Mischief) I rather jokingly mentioned that perhaps my childhood fandom of celebrities like Cher, Bette Midler, Liza Minnelli, Katharine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Barbara Stanwyck was an early sign of my destiny as a gay man; and yes, I know that’s a stereotype but as I always say, “stereotypes have to start somewhere“–there’s occasionally some kernel of truth in a gay stereotype. (Example: Jack on Will & Grace got some grief for being a stereotype–but I’ve known any number of gay men who were very similar to Jack; imagine being told you’re a stereotype.)

RuPaul’s genius idea to kind of create a Project Runway and American Idol hybrid reality show started out very slow–it was on Logo, I believe, and the budget was incredibly bare bones that first season or two or three; part of the fun of the show was how much it looked like a cable-access do-it-yourself reality show. And as usual with any art form created by gay men, it was popular with gay men and straight women; the show slowly started building an audience and then WHAM! One day it seemed like drag had taken over the world.

Katya from RuPaul’s Drag Race, whom I find hilarious–and beautiful.

Paul and I lost interest in the show after the Bianca-Courtney-Adore season, because that season was so good we both felt that anything after that would be anti-climactic. I know there have been other good seasons and incredibly fierce queens since then, but we came back for All Stars Season 2 (when I became a fan of Katya, actually) and were bitterly disappointed at how scripted, staged, and unfair the entire season was to everyone who wasn’t Alaska, Detox, or Roxxy. And just like with Project Runway, once we saw a season that was clearly predetermined from the start, we stopped watching.

I have zero interest in watching a “competition” with a predetermined winner, which is kind of why I don’t watch WWE much anymore. (it’s also very cartoonish, but that’s a subject for another time.)

I know there are cisgender women who have issues with drag, and I know there are transwomen who do as well; I think the transwomen’s issues primarily have to do with the conflation between the two–which was clearly prescient, given the rise of the raw sewage known as LibsofTikTok and “Moms4Liberty” (how’d that election go for you on Tuesday, you miserable soulless contemptible bigoted shrews? CRY MORE BITCHES, your tears are like Mimosas to us gays), who see no difference (because the harpies are as ignorant and uneducated as they are bitter, soulless, and unChristian). I’ve never seen a lot of criticism for drag from the straight cisgender women as a general rule, but I know there are concerns and critiques from the feminist community, which I do not dismiss or take lightly.

But since the primary straight cisgender woman who used to scream at me about the “misogyny of drag” also has turned out to be a sociopathic TERF who is dead to me (shocker, I know; a feminist who hates drag is a bigoted disgusting piece of shit TERF? Who could have seen that coming?), I don’t necessarily take those feminist critiques as seriously as I used to. If your feminism is about cisgender white women only, go fuck yourself. (This is the same woman who claimed to be a gay ally because she loved going to gay bars where gay men made much of her…the irony that it was primarily because she acted like an over-the-top drag queen completely escaped her–but then, drag queens competed with her for attention in gay bars, and I’ve also come to recognize that the poor bitch is so fucking thirsty for attention that she probably needs intense therapy for at least a decade.)

I’ve always seen drag as a critique of the societal notions of what a woman is supposed to be; drag is that expectation taken over the top to the nth degree. This is why they have the exaggerated everything–from wigs to shoes to gowns to make-up to hip padding and fake boobs. (I also think that the reason drag kings never attained the same level of popularity and mainstreaming as the queens is because it’s harder to over-exaggerate masculinity; it’s not as easy to create the illusion of a thickly muscled body, a super-deep baritone voice, and thick body hair–and besides, who wants to watch women performing toxic masculinity? And as a general rule, men don’t wear make-up when they are cosplaying masculinity.) They’re also loud, funny, and crude–all the things women aren’t supposed to be in proper society–and when they are hyper-sexualized, it’s to make a point about the hyper-sexualizing of women by the dominant culture. Women aren’t supposed to have control of their bodies and sexuality; they aren’t supposed to be crude and crass and vulgar. They aren’t parodying women; they are parodying the cultural expectations (that still exist) for women by over-exaggerating everything and reflecting back to the overall societal culture about how we limit and control women.

I tried explaining this several times to my former friend, but she was also sociopathic in her narcissistic belief that she was never wrong. She was exhausting, frankly, and when I cut her out of my life like the cancerous tumor she was, it was amazing how much better I felt knowing I would never see any of her ignorant bigotry anywhere on my social media ever again, and sorry–you come for transpeople, you’re coming for all of us.

Keep your conditional allyship, bitch.

It’s called intersectionality, use the Google.

And yes, there are misogynistic gay men and drag queens. Some of the common language of drag is misogynist; “fishy” and so forth are questionable–but again, it plays into that critique of societal feminine archetypes; women would never talk about themselves that way and would be furious if a straight man did; so why is it okay for gay men and drag queens to do so? It’s not really; but if you’re going to come for drag with honest concerns about misogynist anti-woman language, that’s one thing; when you come for the entire community because of it, fuck you with a cheese grater.

So, part of the reason I wrote Death Drop was for the same reasons I write y/a about rape culture and homophobia and racism; to put a human face on an issue that might help the reader develop more empathy about the subject than they may have felt before reading my book. Death Drop is not going to convince drag-haters or TERFs that their beliefs and values are trash and they need to rethink and reevaluate; but maybe, just maybe, someone who doesn’t know much about the subject and the issues around it might learn something.

That may be hubris, but you can’t be a writer without some level of hubris in your personality.

So, feel free to click on this link and order several copies! They make great gifts for homophobes, and Christmas is coming!