Category: cats

China

Wednesday Pay the Bills blog, yet again, and I have to remind myself yet again that despite my antipathy towards paying said bills, at least I can pay them and don’t have to worry about it. That’s something in this capitalist hell we all live in, isn’t it? I mean, since all the annoying people didn’t get Raptured yesterday (more’s the pity, seriously), I suppose that’s a good enough reason to keep going, right? There are worse things than just being a cog in the capitalist machine, I suppose, although I generally try not to think in those terms because it’s so incredibly fucking depressing. When I was younger, it very soon became apparent to me that I wasn’t a M-F 9-5 kind of person, no matter how hard I tried or how long I stuck with it…but there was always that moment of is this the rest of my life and all the years stretched out in front of me, with me counting down the days every week until the weekend, I would get a little freaked out, and would shortly after that self-destruct and need to find a new means of employment.

Obviously, the Rapture didn’t happen yesterday–it never does, honestly–followed with the usual rush to explain why by the Believers, and it’s never “we must not have been ready yet in God’s eyes” but something else, always something else. Because the fault could never possibly be with the Believers, could it? Everything is always someone else’s fault with these people, which is an especially egregious lack of responsibility and accountability. I’ve never understood the smug “I’m saved” bragging they always do, too. Um, faith without works is dead? Ever hear that part? You’re supposed to humble yourself before God, and baptism doesn’t free you from the sins you commit after. And the whole “if Charles Manson or Stalin or Hitler asked to be forgiven before they died, they’d go to heaven” thing makes literally no sense. Who would want to go to Heaven if Hitler, Stalin or Manson are there?

Add in the “I have to save YOU and lead YOU to Jesus” bullshit arrogance, and yeah–blasphemy and heresy left and right. It is NOT, per their own Bible, for humans to know when their Lord and Savior is returning. So yeah, blasphemy, heresy and pride/arrogance. Good luck at your pearly gates, apostate. I have a deeply and sincerely held faith that you’re all going to hell. See how that works?

But I had a very nice evening revising the manuscript, and it’s going very well. Hearing Scotty in my head again is a delightful thing, and is making it much easier going. I imagine Paul will be late coming home again tonight (he didn’t get home until after I went to bed, so I don’t even know what time he did come home), so I have the evening free to work some more. I did some of the chores last night, too, and I am going to order groceries to be delivered tonight; I am also treating myself to Door Dash for lunch today. I need to empty the dishwasher and reload it tonight, but I did get the laundry finished, too.

Jimmy Kimmel aired last night, but not here in New Orleans as we have a Nexstar ABC affiliate here in New Orleans. I will be writing to them to let them know I will never watch their station again, and I am going to boycott their advertisers. I don’t even like Jimmy Kimmel all that much and I don’t much care for late night talk shows (Fallon is the worst) anyway…but fuck Nexstar and their censorship. How fucking dare you decide what is acceptable for us to see? Yeah, it’s going to be a very strongly worded letter. I may even share it here, who knows?

And shock! Their offices are in Metairie.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning for sure. See you then!

Bend Me Shape Me

Tuesday morning here after a relatively easy day in the spice mines. We weren’t very busy in the clinic (I had to cover again), and I was able to get a lot of work done in the office to get caught up. Huzzah! I stopped and made groceries on the way home, and once I was home, I strapped myself into the desk chair (despite Sparky’s whining) and worked for several hours on the book, and yes…I have found Scotty’s voice again. (Better late than never, right?) So that work also went well, and Paul and I caught up on a show we watch just before retiring for the evening. I slept extremely well again, and feel rested and alert this morning. I also don’t feel sore anywhere, which I hope will last for a while. I don’t think we’re very busy today in the clinic, either, which means I can catch up in my administrative duties even more today. Huzzah!

It’s also dark outside the windows this morning, since the equinox has already passed but the time change won’t occur for another full month or so–they moved it back to November, didn’t they? It was a very nice day, with not much humidity so it felt much cooler than usual for the month, and we’re almost to October…so I don’t know that the humidity won’t have one last hurrah? But it’s been very pleasant since the week before Bouchercon, and that’s been a lovely thing. We’re supposed to get rain today and the next couple of days (a significant shift from the weekend’s forecast, which said we wouldn’t get any this week, and I am delighted to know that isn’t, actually, the case), although the chances aren’t particularly high. But 20% chance is better than zero percent chance, amirite?

Apparently, today is supposedly the Rapture–which isn’t even in the Bible, of course–yet again; I’ve lost track of how many times Christians have promised us they’ll be leaving the planet only to sorely disappoint those of us who’d be delighted to get rid of that trash. I do keep meaning to go back and reread Revelations again–I want to write an essay about end times mythology, which would include The Omen–and I’ve also been going down wormholes lately about the Book of Enoch, which was excluded from the Christian Bible by that Nicaean Council (at whose feet so many of humanity’s worst problems can be lain) but is very interesting. A lot of religious-based fiction actually comes from Enoch; the Nephilim and the Sons of God and the giants and so forth, which is very interesting. (I’ve always wanted to write about the Nephilim, or at least one Nephilim character.) Does anyone know what time the Raptured are going to be leaving? Or is this yet another false fucking alarm, since no one knows the mind or will of God?

Heretics. Seriously.

And maybe–just maybe–the Book of Enoch can be the key to this Colin book I’ve wanted to write for decades now.

Because I don’t have enough books to write as it is, do I? #madness

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I need to do some chores when I get home from work tonight–the dishes are out of control again, which means so is the kitchen–and it shouldn’t take me long to get it under control again so I can do some more writing. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I’ll be back on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday yet again!

Antinous as Osiris. Easy to see why Hadrian was obsessed, isn’t it?

Ride Captain Ride

Saturday! Sparky let me sleep late again, bless his little heart, and so I feel rested and good this morning. I have to run the errands I didn’t run yesterday (when I finished working I wasn’t in the mood to leave the house, other than a walk to Walgreens) and other than that, I am staying inside and working today on my own stuff. There are some games today I might watch (or have on in the background while I clean or write or read) besides LSU’s game tonight against SLU; Auburn-Oklahoma comes to mind for this afternoon, and Tulane plays Mississippi at the same time (GO WAVE!). Miami also plays Florida tonight, and I also haven’t looked to see what non-SEC games might be interesting to have on at some point.

I did get some things done yesterday around the house which pleased me enormously; I have some final touches to be done today around writing and reading. I need to redo my workspace because the last reorganization seemed like a good idea but…it’s not, and the workspace feels more cramped than it ever has, and I just can’t with that, you know? The apartment always feels cramped when it’s not in order, which I dislike intensely, and it feels pretty wide open this morning. I still need to vacuum the rugs and put dishes away, but other than that the house is pretty in order. Huzzah!

The Trey Reed story continues, and the official autopsy ruled it a “suicide,” although I’m not precisely sure how you can make that distinction between murder and suicide when the death is by hanging. From a tree. In Mississippi. Pardon me for not trusting anything official coming out of Mississippi regarding the strange death by hanging of a young Black man. I was also glad to see Colin Kaepernick’s foundation is paying for an independent autopsy on behalf of the family. (Speaking of Kaepernick, does anyone else see the NFL’s hypocrisy on drumming him out of the League for taking a knee when so many of them had a memorial moment pre-game for Charlie Kirk? Side-eye at you, Gail Benson–and I’ve not forgotten you and the Saints’ role in the New Orleans priest/pedophile cover-up, either….making it really hard for me to root for the Saints, you know? Also remember, she got all of Tom Benson’s money by cutting off his blood relatives…)

While I was doing my quality assurance work yesterday, I sat in my chair with Sparky sleeping around my feet and put Superman on to rewatch while I was working, and I have to say, it’s just as excellent the second viewing as it was the first…and I generally tend to not rewatch a film I’ve seen recently, so rewatching was saying something to begin with. Honestly, I’ve really not stopped thinking about this film since we saw it, and have watched numerous reviews and critiques (almost all positive) on Youtube ever since. I also had a lot more thoughts while watching the second time. The first time I watched it was as a viewer; and I am very glad we saw it on the wide screen, and I just wanted the experience. This time, I was able to pay closer attention to details and the plot, and so forth. The magic holds up on a second watch, and it also reminded me of why Superman is so wildly beloved. I also was able to pick out “the hero’s journey” out of the story this time, and I also realized that the Kents work because they were always supposed to be old for parents; they were already past any hope of having a child of their own when they found the baby and the rocket in their corn field, so almost every iteration of the Kents has been canonically wrong every time–the former Bo Duke and Lana Lang casting of the Kents in Smallville was particularly wrong, too. (He’s also a “found orphaned boy,” too.) Wendell Pierce was perfect casting as Perry White (and really, can’t we have Pierce in almost everything? He elevates everything he’s in, seriously.)–the entire film was expertly cast.

And I also realized I want to write more about Superman and revisit my love of the character from childhood, as well as writing about both Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, because I finally remembered that the reason I wanted to be a journalist when I went to college was primarily because the idea took root from the Superman comics, and my affinity for Clark, Lois and Jimmy.

I also realized yesterday why I was having so much trouble with this book before I got sick; I am covering some unfortunate events in this story for Scotty and the boys and while the final third of the book is absolutely necessary, it’s not going to be easy to get done because it’s troubling. There’s a lot of work to do on this manuscript, but I feel like I can do it now.

And on that note, it isn’t getting done with me sitting here writing this, so I am going to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

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We Are Family

Work at home Friday, and my alarm kitty let me sleep in a few extra hours, so praise be at the very least, right? I do feel a bit fatigued this morning–my hip joints and legs ache a bit–but hopefully that won’t impact the day too terribly. I have some data entry to do and quality assurance to check off my to-do list. I have some errands to run, too–making groceries and the mail–which I will do after I get my work done. It looks to be sunny outside this morning; we’ve not had rain in a while, and there’s none in the forecast, either. As much as it rained in July and early August, we’re still almost in a drought in southeastern Louisiana. Wild that we’ve not had enough precipitation down here to stave off a drought…but it’s also why the humidity dialed back these past few weeks.

I finished reading the manuscript last night and made lots of notes, so I am also hoping to make a lot of progress this weekend on getting it finished, or at least much closer to the finish line. I was pretty tired when I got home from work–being client-facing in the clinic for thirty-two hours is a lot–and so ensconced myself with the manuscript and my lap kitty into my easy chair while catching up on the news, before watching the first episode of this season’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, which somehow manages to keep the original spirit of these shows–delusional, petty women who create drama out of nothing–without somehow ruining it in some way. I’m pretty sick of most of the others, and it is true that Bravo will try to milk every single penny out of a franchise rather than letting it die a natural death when it’s time. It’s the way of American television, after all. I also slept deeply and well–the exhaustion, most likely–and so am hoping to get a lot done today.

First things first, though–I need a new to-do list.

This week saw the most horrifying example of government overreach and censorship perhaps in our nation’s history, directly violating the First Amendment. I was also extremely disappointed to see ABC/Disney caving in to a government demand, particularly when you think about how firm and steadfast progressive support for Disney has been when they’ve faced boycott threads from the Hard Right. Is this the same fucking company that filmed Johnny Tremain? As far as I am concerned, I would have sued the complaining Hard Right affiliates for breach of contract or cut off their national ABC feed. You can’t make money without any content, can you? The fact that major network affiliate companies have just publicly admitted that they don’t support free speech and filter content with an agenda for their audiences means they shouldn’t be allowed to be in broadcasting, period. You either take all of our content, or you get none of it, would be my position. Obviously, my view and opinion on how all of this works is uninformed and possibly naïve, since I don’t know how this stuff works, but when a media company goes on the record making demands of talent and makes threats? I really don’t think you should be in business when you’re on the record as pro-censorship of ideas and speech you don’t like. Disney used to always play hardball and always won. This cowardice in the face of authoritarianism and the fall of the Constitution is something I personally will never forget. And going to their theme park in the middle of Disease Central? No fucking thanks.

Never ever forget that corporations are soulless entities only interested in profit and power, for all that the Supreme Court had determined they count as a person…although a person who cannot face criminal charges or jail time. How precisely does that kind of personhood work? Sad that corporations have more legal protections than people, isn’t it? And isn’t that really the bottom-line problem in this country, after its systemic racism and dedication to preserving white supremacy and the American heresy?

I’ve also gone back to my old standard rule of social media: if you come across my feed talking stupid-ass shit, I am going to not engage but just block you. Yesterday I saw an author stupidly claiming that this recent outrage wasn’t a First Amendment violation but a business decision. This woman, who clearly is too stupid to understand anything, has had some shitty takes before–but I have no time or patience for anyone who is that stupid…so out the airlock she went, and not sorry to see her stupid flat unwashed ass go, in all honesty. Here’s hoping this helps my sanity going forward and stops me from wasting my time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow most likely.

Oh, look, yet ANOTHER sexy image of St. Sebastian. At least he hasn‘t been “penetrated” yet by the arrows…

APT.

Thursday and my last day in the office for this week, and I actually worked in the clinic every day this week, including today! Look at me going hard, right?

Speaking of which, I’ve learned so many new things about the Right since last week’s murder on campus that I really did not need to know. I had a vague idea of what a groyper was; I also knew it involved that stupid frog image. I did know what an incel was, too, but I had no fucking idea how far out there it got, and while I could have easily gone for the rest of my life happily not being aware of any of this shit, well, now I know. I don’t think it has made me any smarter or more knowledgeable. The “transmaxxing”1 stuff? Holy fuck-balls, Batman! I think I’m just going to file all of this knowledge I gained without my complete consent under “Things I Will NEVER Understand” in my memory file cabinet. Hopefully this will be one of those things I forget.

But it never works quite like that, does it?|

And to think, I went down that wormhole thinking it might make an interesting background for some fiction. Yeah, no fucking thanks.

I’m tired this morning–and while mentally I am fine, physically I feel some fatigue. I was pretty worn out when I got home from work yesterday, read more of the manuscript (lord, the revisions are going to be a bitch and a half), and hung out with the Cuddle-bug kitty before watching the season premiere of The Morning Show, which opens in the summer of 2024, pre-Olympics…a period that will be interesting to revisit. It also set me to thinking about 2024 in a reflective, detached way; certainly there has been some distance (it does seem like another lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) and remembering again why I hate George Clooney with an undying, white-hot passion that will never cool. Remember that asshole and his op-ed in the New York Times last summer? And as authoritarian censorship starts to take hold in the country–thanks again, George! How is this regime working out for you in your Italian country estate? Oh, yes, that’s right– you’re rich enough that nothing really changes for you and you never have consequences, shithead. I also have noted that he’s been silent about politics and the state of the world ever since then. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Always remember his tax bracket is the one doing the best under this regime.2

There seems to be a plethora of things for us to watch over the course of the weekend; it’s always lovely when a show we enjoy returns.

I generally am not one to get emotional over the death of a celebrity, and at most, I feel a pang of oh that’s a shame. Robert Redford’s death announcement was one of those; he lived a very long life, kept his private life very private, and had some views I agreed with. I also enjoyed his film work, and always thought he was underrated because he made it look easy and he was stunningly beautiful; it is very rare when someone is that good-looking to be taken seriously as an actor. Maybe I’ll rewatch The Sting tomorrow while doing quality assurance. I saw that in the theater back when it was in release, and really enjoyed it. I did see some Redford films during my Cynical 70’s Film Festival during the pandemic (Three Days of the Condor, The Candidate, and All the President’s Men), and became even more impressed with his ability to command the screen and deliver a layered performance that was believable. (I also love The Way We Were, despite some of my misgivings about the plot and story and characters; maybe someday I’ll do a longer essay about The Way We Were.)

There will never be another Robert Redford, for sure.

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

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  1. Please–take my word for it and do not look this up, tempting as it may be. ↩︎
  2. Same with Susan Sarandon, may she rot in hell for eternity. ↩︎

Tumbling Dice

You’ve got to ro-oh-oll me, call me the tumbling dice…

Good morning out there to my daily (or periodic) Constant Readers! I really didn’t want to get up this morning, in all honesty; it was so comfortably cozy under my blanket pile and Sparky was cuddling (and only occasionally attacking my feet), which was very blissful. My legs feel a little fatigued this morning, which isn’t a good sign for my fatigue. But yesterday at work wasn’t at all bad, or a struggle to get through; it actually went by pretty quickly and I had energy when I got home. I got started on my chores (didn’t finish them) and sat in my chair to read with Sparky in my lap, and of course, the purring curled up kitty puddle started putting me to sleep. I woke up at just past nine and went up to bed before Paul even got home from the office.

I read deeper into the manuscript (before dozing off last night), and it’s not bad; it’s just kind of awkward and unpolished, which naturally is a bit of a relief about the revisions that need to be done in addition to the chapters that need to be finished before I can turn it in. I am taking it with me to work to read over lunch and breaks, and may get started on writing the rest of it tonight. LSU has one of those throwaway games this weekend–against Southeastern Louisiana, out of Hammond–so while I do want to watch (if it’s even on television) it’s not one of the big games of the season and I am not even sure who else is playing this weekend. I’ve not even bothered to look into who’s playing yet! I hope to have a successful writing/editing weekend; fingers crossed!

One can hope, at any rate.

My creativity is coming back, though; which usually happens when I am coming down to the wire on another project. Working on that short story to finish it Monday night kicked that door open–not like it was, back in the day, but I’ll take it–and started thinking about other short stories to write and what to work on with this book and how to get it all under control and working and something that my Constant Readers will like. I think I am going to finish Chlorine after this; probably work on it and Muscles at the same time, most likely. I also have some short stories I want to finish by the end of the year, and it has been a very hot minute since my last newsletter, hasn’t it? The Katrina one was, I think, the last one; and that was around two-three weeks ago, wasn’t it? I am really at sea; did Bouchercon and the return of the fatigue really set me that far back on everything?

Apparently so.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday (mine already feels like a Thursday) and I shall return on the morrow. Cheerio!

The sack of Constantinople by the 4th Crusade, 1204

Beach Baby

I love this song still to this very day. It came out during a time where nostalgia was big–especially the 1950s–and the Beach Boys had just made another comeback and their album Endless Summer was a huge hit. The song is very reminiscent of the Beach Boys–all that California sun and surf and cheerfulness and high school hops–but there was a melancholy under all that cheerful nostalgia, especially with the background refrain, oft-repeated through it, of do you remember? do you remember? (The song also come out around the same time as a book called What Really Happened to the Class of 65? and I always associated the song with the book.)

It is Tuesday morning and I am up early, as always, swilling coffee and eating coffee cake, care of Costco. I did finish editing that story, and got it turned in. I hope the editor likes it. I had the idea for it many years ago–not that long, but it seems like it now–and started writing it, getting a draft done before wondering where to try to sell it. I was going to submit it to the Minneapolis Bouchercon anthology I edited, putting it through the anonymous read process as I did for the New Orleans and St. Petersburg ones because it would look like “insider pool” if I was accepted. (I have not submitted to a Bouchercon anthology since being told this, by the way. If their board thinks I would just automatically put my own story in there instead of following the same procedure as everyone else? I don’t need to be in any of their anthologies in the future.) I’ve had the idea for a long time–going back to when I actually lived in Minneapolis, which is where I also came up with the title, which is one of my favorites of all my titles. I did try selling some other places, but the story was still…not quite right, and was rejected, as it should have been. I think I was able to fix it, but…we’ll have to see. But it felt good to work on it, and I also realized that just because it doesn’t “feel” the same to write and edit as it used to, doesn’t mean I’m not doing good work. I’ve changed, both physically and mentally, and that’s going to make things seem different to me than how they used to work, you know?

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day, you know. We weren’t as busy at work as I had expected, primarily from no-shows and last minute reschedules, so I wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work and worked on the story. I didn’t do any chores–the kitchen somehow exploded again, I don’t know how all this happens, honestly–so when I get home tonight I can’t write or read or even catch up on the news until those chores are completed. I hate when the downstairs is a mess, and the whole apartment, when it’s out of order, feels very cramped and small and claustrophobic. Because I am all about the claustrophobia? Apparently so. I slept well again last night and don’t feel terribly sleepy or tired this morning, which is a good thing. Sparky was a combination cuddle-bug/attack kitty this morning before I got up, and went into attack mode again while I was putting my shoes on. I think Paul will be working late at the office tonight, if I am not mistaken, and so it’ll be time for some bonding time after I write (or while I read and edit). I doubt I’ll be catching up on the news; the current story dominating the legacy “media” doesn’t interest me, nor am I interested in being shamed for not mourning someone who advocated me being stoned to death, either. (Miss me with the “he didn’t say that!” Okay, then, tell me one positive thing he ever said about queer rights and equality. I’ll wait.)

The story not getting this fawning, wall-to-wall coverage from the legacy media? How about the two men lynched on consecutive days in Mississippi? The Mississippi “police” already determined the Black college student’s death had “no evidence of foul play.” Really? The other victim was a white homeless man, and their names were, respectively, Trey Reed of Delta State University and Cory Zukatis. After all, it’s not like the Mississippi police have a history of covering up hate crimes or anything. (eye roll to infinity)

We are living in dark times, indeed.

And on that grim note, I am heading into the spice mines. Stay safe, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Third Rate Romance

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. The Saints lost yesterday, but at least it was an exciting game. I slept well and feel good this morning, which is a good thing. I have to cover the clinic today instead of having an Admin day, and we’re book pretty solid, just as we were last Thursday and almost everyone showed up. It’s fine, I do love my job after all, but sometimes that’s a little draining. Ah, well, I can go home after work and chill out with my Sparky, who was cuddling with me this morning after the first tap of the snooze button. Bless his little heart, that’s not exactly helping me get up in the morning.

Yesterday, despite the Saints loss, was pretty good. I felt good when I got up in the morning–there was some fatigue still in my hips, but nothing horrifying–and while I didn’t do all the chores I wanted to get done, I did do some, and ran the dishwasher. I still have all those boxes from Costco to take out to the trash, but maybe I can get that done tonight after work. But while the Saints game was on, I actually wrote and read some more of The Hunting Wives, which is so different from the show but in a very interesting way. And the writing work I got done was good work; I could tell as I was working that this was good stuff, which is awesome. The short story is due today, and I just need to sand down some of the rougher edges on it before I turn it in, and then full focus on getting Scotty finished. I was actually thinking a lot about the Scotty yesterday, too, which is kind of cool. I feel like I’m getting back into the writing groove again, and once the Scotty is finished, I’d like to get a rough draft of Chlorine finished by the end of the year and perhaps start another novel before January 1. We’ll see, I guess.

We also didn’t watch the Emmys, primarily because we don’t care that much, choosing to watch The Thursday Murder Club, with its incredible cast, instead. I’ve not read the book it was based on, but have heard great things about it, and the movie was absolutely charming and very well done. I do hope there will be more of these…and then we watched this week’s Platonic before starting the new season of Only Murders in the Building. (I saw someone on social media this weekend say that they were convinced the best way to watch the show was to assume Steve Martin and Martin Short are playing a gay couple–which I can actually see, but alas not canon.)

As many of us saw many so-called allies to marginalized communities slip into their Klan robes over the course of the last week and weekend, outing themselves as, if not racists and homophobes, then are certainly okay with homophobia and racism and oppression…this morning I noticed on social media that there’s yet another furor in the m/m community; this time about those conservative women who idolized the late unlamented provocateur and everything he stood for…I generally no longer comment on this subgenre of literature as a general rule because I have nothing to gain by saying anything. I noticed back in the late aughts that there was an awful lot of homophobia and bigotry and fetishization in that community, and merely asking “why do you want to write about gay men when you hate and marginalize them?” unleashed a torrent of hatred on me…you know, typical straight white women who cannot stand being questioned about anything. One of the “authors” publicly claimed that I was “clearly jealous of their careers”–um, you’re neither Harlan Coben nor Stephen King nor Nora Roberts; why would I be jealous of you? The vitriol and hate and dogpiling by these horrible women ON ACTUAL GAY MEN with questions about them and their motivations…no, can’t possibly be homophobic, could they? They also would threaten us with voting against queer equality unless we knuckled under to their appropriation and creation of a fake public homosexuality. The stark refusal of any m/m authors to denounce homophobes within their own community back then was kind of a tell to me that I and other gay men are not only not safe in those communities, but that they would always close ranks if there was anything critical from an “outsider.”

I’ve never cared who writes what, to be honest. If you want to write about gay men falling in love and finding their happily ever after, go for it and I wish you well with your writing and I hope you do well with it, as I do every other author out there (until you prove yourself to be filth). But if you’re going to, and you don’t support queer equality (or vote against it because reasons), you really need to look inward and reexamine yourself and your motivations: why are you writing (or reading) about people you don’t support or care about? How is that any less of a betrayal than those of performers who make money off queer audiences but actually hate them and are transactional (cough Kristin Chenowith among others cough)? If you write about queer people we are always going to assume you’re safe.

Talk about a bait and switch. You’re contemptible– a deplorable, if you will.

And yes, we get angry when we are stabbed in the back. It’s also why I never completely trust “allies.”

But it is nice, in 2025, to see m/m authors calling the homophobia out. Thank you, m/m writing community, for standing with us in this moment.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, and I’ll be back in the morning.

You Are The Woman

Work at home Friday, but I won’t be able to attend my two virtual meetings today because I am getting my COVID vaccine and after that I am getting blood work done. I hope I don’t react too badly to the shot; the last one was rough and I felt sore and fatigued for like a day. I did sleep pretty well, and the Master of the Apartment let me sleep a little while later before smacking me repeatedly with a paw (claws out) to get me up to feed him, the little darling. I was tired last night after work, but nothing horrible; normal tired, as opposed to the all-encompassing and horrific fatigue. I’d happily go the rest of my life without feeling that fatigued again.

Ugh, so much to do, what else is new? LOL. We’re going to go to Costco later, and I have to get the mail and order some groceries for delivery and clean up around here after I finish doing my quality assurance stuff. Glad that I am feeling not so tired this morning, because all that running around (I also have to get gas at some point, too; getting really low), and of course there’s laundry to do and dishes to put away as always. Heavy heaving sigh. I do sometimes think it would be nice to have a staff, but I’d also hate someone else in my house doing shit. I don’t even like it when people are here doing repairs. I have always seen the Lost Apartment as a safe space away from the rest of the world, and having other people in my space isn’t something I’ve ever been terribly comfortable with. It’s my sanctuary!

The country continues to go down its tragic path and the empire continues falling. I say it often and I will say it again: I am so glad I am already old and don’t have my entire life in front of me, because the future looks pretty fucking grim and dark. Sorry, kids–but this is yet another reminder of how smart I was to never have any.

Crime Ink: Iconic continues to get marvelous reviews everywhere, which is absolutely delightful. I’m having creative flashes but haven’t been writing as much as I should, either. I have a short story due next week I need to work on this weekend and of course, I have to finish this damned Scotty book by the end of the month. The irony is I know what needs to be done with both but haven’t had much success sticking with it and making the words flow and the sentences form. I’m not in despair or anything like that about it, but it’s getting to that point, I think. I just need to get into the habit of writing something every day that isn’t this blog (or my newsletter).

Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. I know I am going to read and edit some more today.

Oh! I was interviewed recently (which you can read here,) and it went live the other day; I keep forgetting to post the link here because my stream of consciousness blogging inevitably is coming from a tired and foggy brain that doesn’t remember anything anymore.

And on that note, it’s Spice Mine City for me. Have a great Friday, COnstant Reader, and I shall be back in the morning, sure as the sun rises.

Rock Me Gently

Thursday morning and my last day in the office for the week! Huzzah! The bed felt very comfortable this morning, and Sparky has started cuddling with me in the mornings after the alarm goes off the first time, which makes it even harder to get up. (Of course, he’s only doing this because he wants me to get up and feed him, the mercenary little dear.) I also feel a bit tired in the legs, which means I will probably be exhausted when I get off work, but that’s okay. There are worse things. We’re also completely booked up in the clinic, too, so I will be kept hopping at the office all day, too. I think I will most likely just come straight home from work tonight, too, although my copy of the new Lou Berney has come in for me to pick up, which I’ll do this weekend, most likely.

Today is also 9/11, which is always a rather somber day. Twenty four years ago, the country and the world changed forever. My condolences to those who lost people on that day, as well as those forever traumatized by witnessing (or escaping) the tragedy. And I hope those who exploited the emotion of the moment and the years immediately after to push an un-American agenda through Congress to gain more power. The PATRIOT Act was the first step on the road to authoritarianism, and it’s still in effect…the key word to throw out the Bill of Rights was, apparently, “terrorism.”

The murder of Charlie Kirk yesterday was a real shock; when I first saw that he’d been shot on social media I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a hoax or some trolling or something else like that…but it did turn out to be true, and he died at the hospital. I saw one of the long-distance videos of it, which was sickening enough (and it was a result of auto-play on social media), and have no desire to the ones that were shot closer and are much more graphic. I am not now, nor have ever been, an advocate of violence of this type, but at the same time I am not going to feel bad that someone who thought I should be stoned to death for the crime of existing–and no one is going to guilt or shame me into feeling otherwise. I saw a lot of cisgender white women (of course) taking off their masks once and for all yesterday, who are apparently okay with gays being stoned to death and Blacks are inferior and school shootings are the price we pay for freedom. I am also tired of this double standard the right-wingers live by–how they haven’t been driven insane by the cognitive dissonance in their shitty little brains is beyond me. There has already been plenty of political violence from the Right–1/6/20 ring any bells? Remember the Minnesota legislators and their spouses? Remember the arson of the Pennsylvania governor’s home? Where was all this collective right wing outrage then? We should all be shocked and appalled…but no one seems to care that the right is calling for the murders of all non-MAGA’s in the country? For a civil war? OVER CHARLIE KIRK?

Bitch, please.

If you want to mourn him, that’s fine. I never tell anyone what they can think or feel–but I one thing I have never, and will never, tolerate people trying to climb on some kind of moral high horse about this and trying to scold/shame people about how to feel and react. You’re not my mother, thank you very much, and if you’re perfectly okay with someone saying queer people should be stoned to death, I know you aren’t safe for me. You’ll vote against my rights and dignity, and you’ll turn your head when the military police come for us. You’re just a good little German, and I don’t fucking need to know your dirty, unwashed wide flat Karen ass.

He wanted me, and others like me, to be put to death. That is who you’re telling me I should be empathetic and kind about? Were Black people supposed to grieve Bull Connor? Robert E. Lee?

And in the 1950s you would have claimed a black child whistled at you and never admitted culpability for his murder. That’s who you are.

And so very interesting that your panties are in a moist wad over Charlie Kirk but you’re okay with the school shooting yesterday? Is the air so thin up there on your high-horse that you’re not getting enough oxygen to your brain?

I also love knowing that the only reason you’re friends with me, either on-line or in real life, is because I sometimes edit anthologies so you want to be on my good side. Welp, you kind of blew that, didn’t you? I never forget. So sorry.

This is also why I say I respect Westboro Baptist’s homophobia: they don’t pretend. At least they’re honest–and when you’re negatively compared to Westboro, you need to reevaluate everything about your life. They won’t, of course; they think everyone else should change.

Ugh. This is such a dark time. I hate being here for the inevitable fall of the American empire. This post will probably cost me friends and followers, but

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a good day, Constant Reader. Here’s hoping we make it through all of this.

I wonder if this picture is too sexual for the prudish Puritans at Meta?