Category: cats

Delicate

Saturday in the Lost Apartment and all is well. I slept incredibly well last night, and feel energized and rested this morning. I am up at six again this morning, thanks to my alarm cat, but I don’t mind in the least. I have some chores I left for this morning to do; and I want to spend the day reading, doing chores, and relaxing…and maybe, just maybe, writing some more. #Madness, right?

Yesterday I was up before six–so much for sleeping in, but my body clock was clearly reset during my illness and I am now a morning person for the first time in my life–so I did some chores and even some writing (!!!) before it was time for me to start Remote work for the day. When I finished with work, I ran some errands–had to have bloodwork done again, made groceries, picked up the mail and a prescription–and relaxed a bit before going to dinner with a very dear friend. I didn’t get many chores done around the house other than laundry and a load of dishes; but I even wrote more on that short story that’s proving to be harder to write than I thought it would be. There are several short story calls I have bookmarked that I would like to try to write something for. Yes, I am feeling a bit more ambitious, and am also thinking a lot more clearly. There’s still fog in my brain sometimes, and there are times when my attention span is all over the place, but I also feel like when I am clear-headed, I am thinking a lot more practically, confidently, ambitiously, and pragmatically, which is the best mental space to be in to reflect on yourself, where you are in your life, and what you want this inevitable third act of your life to be like. I am making plans again…and while life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into plans at the worst possible time with the plans having to be completely discarded entirely sometimes and replanned all over again, but it helps me feel like I have some control over my life and my career and everything that goes along with that.

And I do like feeling like I have some control over my life, you know?

I need to get back to writing, but I am being patient and letting my brain and my body dictate what I do every day. There are days when my job takes all my energy and all my brainpower. So be it, you need to rest when you get home–if you’re not too tired to focus you can read, and of course, there’s always something to watch on television. (I am itching to finish bingeing The Better Sister, for example.)

I had dinner with a dear friend of several decades standing last night at a delightful restaurant on Magazine Street that we go to whenever we dine together, Lilette. I even had a solitary cocktail, the Lilette Rouge, which was delicious, and I do recommend the Kobe burger with cheese; it’s mouth-watering good. The conversation was wonderful, and I kept thinking to myself all evening about how lucky I am. I do have the most amazing friends–smart and talented and witty and fun to be around. I am tired of drama and want no part of that anymore–sort yourself out, thanks, but I won’t be a part of that process. Even the three friends that I lost recently; my God, they were Dorothy Allison and Felice Picano and Victoria A. Brownworth–queer writing icons. It’s so very easy to get down about my life, especially when I’m not feeling well (I was so morose when I was so sick and in the hospital; it was why I wasn’t really responding to anyone or posting–so much maudlin self-pity about how everything sucked!!!), but the truth is I’ve had quite a marvelous second act, which made the horrors of the first act so worth experiencing and living through. Every dream I had as that lonely terrified gay kid with no friends that was bullied and shamed daily, has come true for me. No one can ever take away the writing I’ve published, the awards I was short-listed for, or anything I’ve ever accomplished in my publishing career. I got my first by-line in 1996, in Minneapolis, and from there I built a haphazard, all over the map, hard to define career that has given me endless amounts of satisfaction, pride, and joy for the last almost thirty years (yes, in January of next year I will mark my thirtieth year as a published writer! It’s been an interesting journey).

And yet my first college creative writing professor told me I would never publish anything, ever.

But yes, dinner was lovely. I should make plans and do things with people more often–when I’ve gotten my strength back. I’ve increasingly isolated myself since the pandemic; I think I went into hermit mode during the shutdown and never really emerged from it. I also had dehydration sickness that first summer of COVID, before vaccinations; and somehow managed to stave off COVID itself until the summer of 2022, and I’m still not sure I ever completely recovered from that before the next thing, which was my arm injury, the ten month wait for the surgery. And then Mom died, and I had the oral surgeries before the arm surgery, and then I was in rehab/PT for the arm, trying to recover from that trauma, and I think I just burnt out from everything, because I was also still writing on top of all of that. In a way, this sickness and physical/mental collapse was necessary, for me to get some rest and recuperate and stop focusing on being miserable all the time because I’m not and have no reason to be, and remember to keep seeing things as challenges to best rather than something else I need to do.

See what having dinner with a beloved friend who is just a radiant flame of positive energy can do for me? It’s wonderful to have friends who make you feel like you can do anything, and I actually have a lot of those in my life.

Like I said, I need to keep reminding myself to focus on how fucking lucky I am and what a truly lovely life I lead. I get to write, you know? I love writing. I love creating and making new characters and inventing places and coming up with the inevitable story from who those characters actually are and behave is my favorite thing to do, and I also love to challenge myself when I am writing. This little story I am working on–for which there is no market that I am aware of–is really about faith, and how far someone who considers herself devout will step outside of that when presented with a horrible situation; but I have to make sure that, morally challenged as she may be, why she makes the choices she does. It’s been slow going so far, but if I pull it off, “The Witch Bottle” will be a good story. See? This is what I love. I commented the other day that I seem to be having better luck writing the blog and the newsletter rather than fiction lately, but I’m having some very good ideas, and I do think my next revision of Hurricane Season Hustle will turn it into quite a fine piece of work.

I really can’t wait to get back to writing fiction again.

Damn. I am so fucking lucky.

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

A marvelous panel I was on (see? Lucky!) at Minneapolis Bouchercon the morning after the airline lost my suitcase. Attica Locke, Karen Dionne, me in the back, Edwin Hill, David Heska Wanbli Weiden and Nancy Johnson. My imposter syndrome was off the charts that day!

End Game

Ah, Monday of Memorial Day and all is well in the Lost Apartment. I finished cleaning up the kitchen yesterday, which was amazing to walk down into this morning, and I swear I will never allow it to get that bad ever again–do it every weekend, Gregalicious, and it will get easier as it goes. I am trying to keep up with my chores throughout the week rather than pushing them to the weekend–always a recipe for disaster–and if I can keep up, life will be better and I can get other, deeper cleaning that needs to be done taken care of.

Yesterday I started getting creative again. I got up early, around six–don’t ask me why, it’s apparently a thing for me now, which is great since that’s when I have to get up for work–and had breakfast, wrote my blog and a newsletter about Victoria’s death (which reminded me I’d never eulogized Felice Picano, so I started working on that), and then read The Get Off for a while (it’s so excellent) and also more of Moonraker. I worked on the kitchen and get it taken care of–just some minor touches for my workspace tomorrow, and then I can slowly get the living room into order as well. I gathered everything I need to have handy when working on the Scotty book (the older volumes with post-its stuck throughout the pages, and yes, they are color-coded; the notebook with everything written thus far in its most recent draft; the cast list; and my thick folder of notes and research, most of which won’t be used); I should have done this months ago. I started writing the prologue, with a very short homage to Valley of the Dolls, and even started putting the tarot reading together. Not bad for a rest day where I also got the kitchen floors under control and barbecued, don’t you think? After dinner, we watched Fountain of Youth on Apple–John Krasinski and Natalie Portman and a treasure hunt, which was just a little too silly to be enjoyable–and the season finale of The Last of Us. This morning, I have to do the dishes and run the dishwasher, and then start picking up the living room while I swill coffee and listen to Taylor Swift while also taking reading breaks. I also started reading something new for non-fiction, Old Man River: The Mississippi River in North American History by Paul Schneider, which I am already loving. As you can see, my creative ADHD is exploding off the charts again so I am going to need to start writing more than just the blog and the newsletter soon, else I’ll explode.

I’m also up before seven today, with a good night’s sleep behind me and facing the last day of this holiday weekend. I do have to make a little groceries today; so I am going to try to do some things around here before I head over there. Dishes and the living room, mostly, as well as some self-care and reading. I feel pretty good this morning, only slightly physically weak, and I actually made it all the way upstairs last night without having to stop and rest on the way up. I’m eating more and more every day–and trust me, after worrying about gaining weight for 2/3rds of my life, it’s nice to eat whatever I want whenever I want without fear or self-loathing about it.

And it’s a short work week, which will be nice. I don’t think we’re booked heavily in the clinic this week, but I am pretty much caught up on everything at the office so the week should be a fairly simple and easy one to ease back into the regular routine. I’ve gotten up early every day of this holiday weekend, so getting up early to go to work isn’t going to be an issue tomorrow morning. Huzzah!

And I’m enjoying my morning coffee again. I don’t drink nearly as much as I used to before the illness, because I get shaky and jittery, but at least it is tasting good to me again. Normality seems to be slowly returning to one Gregalicious, but it is slowly happening, and I am very relieved on that score. I am also feeling ambitious again, which hasn’t happened in a long time, and I feel pretty good about that as well.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Those books aren’t going to read themselves, nor are those dishes going to wash themselves (self-cleaning dishes would be amazing), and Sparky is acting like he wants my desk chair or my lap or both, so I may as well repair to the easy chair. Have a lovely Memorial Day, and remember to toast those we lost in service to our country.

You know, the suckers and losers.

What can I say? I was hungry!

You Keep Me Hangin’ On

Work at home Friday, and I am exhausted. It was, over all, a pretty good week for me at the office, as I got a lot done and eased back into seeing patients. I have to get caught up on my homework today, so that should be a good thing as long as I can stay focused. I feel rested this morning, which is also enormously helpful; but we’ll see how long that lasts, shall we? Sparky let me sleep a bit more this morning, which was lovely of him, and now I have a few hours to do things around here before I start working this morning. I am not going to overdo it this weekend–trust me on that score, number one on the list for the weekend is relaxation and reading (and it’s a three day weekend at that!) and doing some chores to get the house back under control.

Last night we got caught up on both The Last of Us and Hacks (what a fucking episode! Jean Smart clinched this year’s Emmy, methinks, again), and now we’re going to be looking for something new for the weekend; I’ve heard good things about Overcompensating, so we’ll probably check that out–and Alafair Burke’s TV show, The Better Sister, will be debuting soon. I loved the book–seriously, if you aren’t reading Alafair you need to make better choices in your reading life–and the cast is fantastic. Huzzah!

Yesterday I got an ARC of Laura Lippman’s new novel Murder Takes a Vacation, which has moved up on the TBR list, and a copy of Frank Perez’s Rainbow Fleur de Lis: Essays on Queer New Orleans History. Frank is fantastic and knowledgeable; I also recommend his history of Southern Decadence. People think I know New Orleans? I don’t know shit compared to Frank! Frank is a repository of knowledge about queer New Orleans; in fact, I should consult with him about my 1994 New Orleans book. (adds to list)

I also cleaned the Keurig last night, and yes, my coffee is tasting much better this morning. Whew. I was worried I’d lost my taste for coffee during the illness, which was obviously not the case. Of course the Keurig needed cleaning–it needed cleaning when I got sick, and then it sat there unused for four weeks, and then I didn’t clean it before trying to use it again. Dumb dumb dumb, but I am glad I can enjoy my coffee in the mornings again. Huzzah! I may even try to get some writing done this weekend–at least work on a couple of essays and maybe finish that short story I started.

I’m feeling better, can you tell, Constant Reader? I feel like today just might be a good day, if not the best one I’ve had in a long time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines to read for a bit before I start work. Have a lovely Friday, and I will check in with you again later.

British Olympic diving team, 2024 Paris

The Tracks of My Tears

Well, we made it to Thursday, didn’t we? Yesterday was a good day. I slept really well the night before, didn’t have to get up early (and Sparky let me sleep an extra hour; he’s started getting into bed and cuddling up to me every morning around four which is nice), and had a nice doctor visit. I lost more weight–honestly!–and am now under 180, which has been since at least the late nineties that I weighed so little. I did stop at Raising Cane’s to get lunch on my way into the office, and it was very good and very filling. It was a slow day at the office, too, so I was able to get a lot of my Admin work caught up as well. I didn’t feel exhausted, either, which was super nice…and of course I work from home tomorrow and Monday is a holiday, so huzzah! I do want to slowly and carefully work on the house some more over the weekend, and keep building up my own strength.

I really hate being feeble, but my body has been through a major trauma and I’m older, so I need to get over my impatience and take it easy–which is hard for me, because I always see it as being lazy (thanks Mom and Dad!) rather than being something necessary. Maybe if I can get on a roll with my reading and start doing some more writing.

I started writing my essay about Gone with the Wind and how it basically is the Bible of Lost Cause Mythology, which also reminded me of an earlier, equally foul (if not more so) book that was also made into a successful film: Thomas Dixon’s The Clansman, which was filmed as Birth of a Nation and preceded Gone with the Wind by a few decades, priming the pump, as it were. (I downloaded those books from Project Gutenberg, but can’t bring myself to read them.) I’ve really come to hate the Lost Cause myth over the years, but have to admit it’s not surprising that it was allowed to develop and become a horrible part of our history (and present) because stubborn Southerners refused to believe they were, or ever could have possibly been, wrong about anythin1g. (Yet they call themselves “the real Americans” now.)2

I slept well again last night, which is great; maybe uninterrupted sleep is going to be a thing for me again and praise Jesus and pass the ammunition, you know? Yesterday was actually a pretty good day, overall. I got a lot of work done at the office, always a plus to be ahead on my work, and we watched two more episodes of The Last of Us after I made dinner. I fell asleep in my chair instead of cleaning the kitchen the way I’d intended to, but I can do that when I get home tonight. Tomorrow is a work-at-home day for me, and of course that glorious three day weekend of rest, relaxation, and reading right behind it. Huzzah! I feel like I’m getting some of my strength back–a little, not a lot–and the process is going to be slow (I need to be more patient) and steady and hopefully by the end of the summer I’ll be back to some semblance of normality and weight.

And on that brief note, I will bring this to a close and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thor’s Day, Constant Reader, and I will be back at some point soon.

  1. William Bradford Huie–a problematic journalist who committed some serious crimes by “protecting sources” in the Emmett Till case–wrote a book about the civil rights movement in north Alabama in the late 1960s called The Klansman, which showed three different perspectives–and the one from the bigoted police chief who does not believe he is a bigot is probably the best depiction of the Southern bigot mentality I’ve ever read; but the book is horrifically brutal and difficult to read. ↩︎
  2. There are some excellent novels that show the horrors of what the Jim Crow South was like: The Reformatory by Tananarive Due; Time’s Undoing by Cheryl Head, and anything by Wanda M. Morris–all writers you should be reading. And yes, they’re fiction, but so is the Lost Cause myth. ↩︎

If You Could Read My Mind, Love

Work at home Friday, with a Costco trip after I get my work done! I also have to get some blood work done today (yay! my arms will continue looking hideous before all these bruises heal at long last; good thing I am far too old to be vain anymore), but c’est la vie. Que sera sera, and all of that. I also have to run by the office–I forgot some paperwork I need to work on, and I can’t find my wallet. It’s not in the house and it’s not in the car, so the only place it can be is at the office; although I looked for it there yesterday and couldn’t find it. Sigh.

You may have noticed lately that the images I’ve been adding to my blog so there’s a thumbnail image on social media have not been muscular men. Honestly? I’m kind of bored of them, to be honest. There’s a gradual sameness after a while, and I also recognize that sharing images of impossibly built young men whose entire lives revolve around maintaining that look (that most people can never achieve) may be contributing to some toxic body image issues for some men; I know I spent years trying to be physically perfect and always coming up short because of my own body image issues (there are some pictures of me from when I was really lean that I originally saw and thought, maybe another ten pounds? but now I look at them and scream eat something bitch!). So I thought I’d take a break and start using other images that I find interesting–and I have tons of pictures I’ve taken around New Orleans over the years. Maybe I’ll go back to hot guys again, but right now I’m just not feeling that.

In other exciting news, I’ve been looking for Chapter Ten of the new Scotty and not been finding it anywhere…to the point I was beginning to think maybe I hadn’t written it after all. I FOUND IT YESTERDAY MORNING! Huzzah! I was worried, since I’ve blown the deadline and the extended deadline…which is why I am having a ZOOM meeting with my editor on Sunday. I really need to get back on the writing horse sooner rather than later. But the enforced break caused by my illness again gave me lots of time to think about things, especially my writing career, and also allowed the stirrings of ambition to start rising again. Not a bad thing, really. I have to finish this Scotty and there are two others that I want to finish drafts of by the end of the year–possible, always possible–and I also want to get back into writing short stories.

And reading. I need to get back to reading, and the sooner the better. Saturday I am planning on reading my own manuscript while working on the house, and hopefully I can also dig further into Christa Faust’s The Get Off, which is superb. Some people very kindly sent me books while I was in the hospital and they all look good: Vertigo by Boileau-Jercerac (yes, the basis for the Hitchcock film); They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran; People of Means by Nancy Johnson; On Spine of Death by Tamera Berry; The Lilac People by Milo Todd; and Disco Witches of Fire Island by Blair Fell; all of which look interesting…so I must get back to reading very intensely!

I made myself a cappuccino this morning and it is very good; the taste for coffee clearly coming back–and if not, hey, I can just make a cappuccino every morning, can’t I? Yum! I feel a bit more rested this morning–Sparky let me sleep an extra hour before becoming obnoxious. But he’s also sleeping with me now, which he didn’t used to do–mainly, I think, to track my movements in case I get up to feed him–but hey, I’ll take it.

If you enjoyed Andor, I highly recommend watching Rogue One again; the series enhances the movie significantly, and makes it even more powerful. Paul and I both agreed, and I love how the TV show flows into the movie and then into Star Wars (I will never call the original anything else). When Star Wars clicks, it’s excellent; unfortunately, it doesn’t always click, alas.

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

Statue of Pharaoh Khafre, Egyptian Museum

Strong Medicine

It’s so nice to be readjusting back to normalcy–or what passes for it around here.

Sunday when I got home from the hospital, I kind of just took the day off to resettle and start putting the house back together. Sparky was sulky and made sure to let me know he wasn’t happy about me being gone for so long. All I am these days is a food dispenser anyway. But Paul and I settled into the living room and finished The Four Seasons, which we really enjoyed a lot more than we thought we would; caught up on Hacks, which is finally getting back on track this season; The Studio, about which I have some thoughts; and started Andor, which we are really enjoying–no analogies to be drawn from the show to where we are heading in the US, eh? We watched more of it last night; it’s probably my favorite Star Wars show thus far.

My mind has lain fallow for so long, but I did have a book idea while I was in the hospital (like I really need another one?). It’s a good idea, and it’s basically taking a failed manuscript and rebooting it into this one, which I really like the idea of. I also need to write that short story I came up with while sick; looking through my files there are all kinds of things I need to finish. I would like to publish some more short stories, and I have so many that need finishing or revising extensively; I hadn’t realized it had all gotten so out of control. Sigh. But this week is about getting reacclimated to my reality, such as it is, and so I need to buckle down and get to work this weekend. Paul was taking care of all the chores while I was sick, and I am grateful–but now I can’t find anything and I need to get the kitchen back under control. I worked on that a bit last night, but I was exhausted after going back to the office for a full days for the first time in weeks. I’m still a bit wobbly on my feet, so I made sure to take walks around the office every once in a while. Slowly but surely, right?

Sparky the Starving got me up just before six this morning, but on the other hand I was able to load the dishwasher and fold a load of clothes–which I won’t have to do after work tonight (huzzah!); but I noticed last night while we were watching Andor that I kept getting up to do things–which I hadn’t been doing since I got sick. So I am getting back to myself, too. (I can never just sit still and watch the TV without getting up to do something periodically.) I also have a ZOOM call scheduled with my editor this weekend so I should be getting back on track with the writing again soon. Fingers crossed!

I need to make a to-do list. And I seem to have lost my taste for coffee, which is very weird. I’ll be trying to get that back for sure!

And now it’s off to the spice mines. Have a great Tuesday, Constant Reader!

The Logical Song

Monday back to the office blog, and it’s taking me a while to get my morning together. I feel good this morning; like this latest round of depression has finally ended. Not that anything happening in the world has gotten better–it certainly grows worse with every passing day; at least Germany had a fairly stable economy for a little while before things got super dark there in the 1930s, you know–but I always have to remember that I am not completely helpless in the face of the rising evil in the world, I do have a voice, and I should never in a million years allow the bastards to get me down and keep me from being tired or feeling beaten. This has been a lifelong struggle for me, and now almost every American is finding out how it feels when the government doesn’t give two shits about you–it never did, but people are finally waking up to the realization that unfettered capitalism, the ideal state for Ayn Rand, doesn’t work because her “men of the mind” always allow their greed and inhumanity to take control of things.

It was very easy for capitalist pigs to convince Americans that regulations–for their own safety–weren’t necessary. So, I guess we all needed a hard reminder that capitalists and corporations only care about money, and don’t care if they poison you in the name of profit, since some people never fucking learn and will never read history.

This last bout of depression was undoubtedly triggered by coming down from the Festivals, having to return to work, and all this horrible fears about my job and potential retirement. Thanks again, MAGA voters. But I do feel good this morning, better than I have since before the festivals, and so am hoping that this will carry me through until I get everything done that I need to get done. I have a shit ton of emails to answer and more to send. I have a lot of writing to do, and I need to get my taxes done once and for all. I need to pay bills, and I need to run some errands on my way home from work. I also feel physically better; I never really got past the Festival induced exhaustion. We’ll see how this goes.

I did manage to read some yesterday, and managed to finish the first part of Moonraker before my mind stopped focusing yesterday. It did amuse me; the entire first fifty pages or so of the book are about introducing the mysterious billionaire Hugo Drax, who has moved to England and is developing an amazing defensive weapon that could protect the UK from Soviet nuclear weapons, and has gotten deeply involved in British politics (sound familiar? That’s part of the reason I am revisiting the novel), and revealing him to the reader as a cheat at cards. He plays at M’s men’s club (ah, those last vestiges of the Empire and class distinctions!), and the manager suspects that he’s cheating, as he is quite successful. The manager and M want Bond (who became a master at cards on the job; can’t help but think of Casino Royale) to figure out how he’s doing it, and then give him a lesson to protect the club from a cheating scandal. Imagine the first part of a Bond film being about cheating at bridge! It also begs the question of just how far from the original character and his world as conceived by his creator, and how insane it’s gotten as the film got bigger, crazier and campier.

I spent more time on social media this weekend than I like to on the weekends, mainly because of the unfocused brain and my inability to focus–although social media, methinks, has had a lot to do with making my ADHD worse–and I could easily do that while watching the country burn to the ground on the news, and while watching documentaries about the Hapsburgs and how their incestuous marriages–a long-standing family policy geared to protect their money and their lands–eventually led to their downfall, I found myself getting sucked into several on-line dramas that just further illustrate divisions in the country. First up was the candle thing; turns out a gay candle maker decided to make a candle commemorating Cory Booker’s filibuster…and one of the options was cotton-scent. First of all, yikes–and then when Black women started calling the dude out for profiting on Black labor, he doubled down, and then someone came to his rescue–or attempted to, at any rate; this person (I am not using pronouns because I don’t know how they identify) was “camp callout”–I’d seen some of their videos about MAGA regrets, but…this person turned out to also be deeply problematic: long story short, Camp has a very well documented MAGA and anti-trans past; and then the candlemaker turned out to be a convicted sexual offender. Whoops!

Needless to say, they have both disappeared from social media, at least for now.

The bouncy house thing was another one of those “is this a real post or is it parody” posts, in which a white woman complained that the Hands Off protest she attended (her first protest) didn’t have any entertainment for her bored child, suggesting a bouncy house…and she got dragged for it, rightfully so. Good on you for going to your first protest, what the fuck are you thinking have you never seen a protest before? Granted, white people tend to not get teargassed or beaten or had police dogs set on them or firehoses trained on them (unless they’re protesting genocide!) because white privilege, but it was an incredibly tone deaf thing to say, given our proud history of incarcerating Black and brown protesters, along with their children. Leave the kids at home. Then another white gay man (sensing a theme) came in hard for Black women laughing at this idiot…calling them bullies. No one was bullying this woman…and tell me you don’t know any Black people without saying the words. I don’t speak for the Black community, but I do know the difference between bullying and clowning, and that was what was going on. People were laughing at her. No one was wishing her or her children harm, any of that stuff.

Maybe make some Black friends, Keith Edwards? Won’t be watching your channel anymore.

This, for example, is why Black people can’t trust white people–and similarly, why queer people can never fully trust straight people (having your bridal party go to a gay bar doesn’t make you an ally…being an ally doesn’t mean centering yourself and crowding out the people you’re supposed to be an ally of, for the record).

And on that cheery note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have as lovely a Monday as you can hang with, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Don’t Cry Out Loud

..when you check your 401k. I checked mine yesterday, which is risk-adverse and there’s not much in it, and it was still a shock. Mine had declined in value by 10%–and it’s risk averse. I can only imagine what happened to those that were higher risk/higher reward but also higher potential for loss.

Remember how the Republicans have always wanted to make social security investment accounts, just like they changed pensions to investment accounts under Reagan? How’s that working out for y’all? They have never had the best interests of the American people at heart, ever.

Gah.

We’re supposed to have thunderstorms all day today, which will be a nice way of dealing with the humidity we’ve been “enjoying” over the last few weeks. It’s also supposed to be in the fifties at night this week, which means better sleep. I slept pretty well this weekend, Sparky getting me up early for food but I’ve also been going to bed early every night; really getting tired around nine these last few nights and dozing off in the bed. We finished watching The Residence last night, which I highly recommend. It’s a witty, well done, and deeply clever murder mystery set in the White House, and it’s very Agatha Christie. WE then started watching season three of The White Lotus, which everyone has been talking about; we’d started season one but gave up after the first episode. Parker Posey is perfectly cast, as is everyone else; and God, Patrick Schwarzenegger’s character is such a douche bro; I despise him so far, about three or four episodes in? LSU also won their regional final yesterday was yet another score over 198.00; this is their sixth straight competition with a score of that or higher–and they left points on the board yesterday. GEAUX TIGERS!

I just looked out the windows and the sidewalk is wet, and it hasn’t rained…which means the humidity must be getting unbearable outside. I am looking forward to the thunderstorms arriving, because that’s when I am going to curl up under my blankets and read some more. I wanted to go to yesterday’s protests, but correctly assessed in the morning that I was fatigued, and other than some chores, I wasn’t going to get much of anything done. I’d planned to run an errand, but stayed inside and rested, hence the television bingeing. I hate that I wasn’t able to go; but I feel rested and good this morning (so far) so maybe it will last and I can get things done. There was insane turnout yesterday all across the country (and even across Louisiana!), and of course, it was largely ignored by State Media (Fox) and State Media-lite (everyone else). The utter failure of the legacy media to meet this moment in US History will be studied for centuries, provided the coming collapse of the United States doesn’t result in the world being plunged into a reoccurrence of the Dark Ages.

I hate that I am now so old that I can’t even go to protests anymore. But the massive turnout nation-wide yesterday gives me some hope–even as cishet white people don’t seem to quite understand what protests are, and they can be dangerous? Especially under this administration? Everyone who actually was able to attend yesterday was basically putting their bodies, lives and freedom on the line to take a stand; for those of you who still don’t get it try googling Kent State, or any of the protest marches in Alabama in the 1960s. The insanity I saw yesterday on social media–I still can’t believe the “bouncy house” thread was serious–just is another indication of why most marginalized communities don’t trust the cishet whites. One of the reasons I don’t feel sympathy for any MAGA voter with regrets or pulling the “I didn’t vote for this” Pilate handwashing of their crimes–is because you did vote for this. He didn’t lie to you about any of this. He told you he was going to do all of this, but he did lie about everyone getting rich; but…he was talking about rich people and corporations, not the voters who worship him. Sorry not sorry I don’t believe your claims that you aren’t transphobic or racist or homophobic now and were just misled; any rational adult could see you were being given Flavor-Ade to drink and were lapping it all up and asking for more. I feel so owned, you have no idea.

And on that cheery note, I am going to head into the spice mines while I wait for the thunderstorms to arrive (although the sun has just come out again). I have cleaning to do and taxes to organize, and I had hoped to make it to the gym today…but my shoulder is feeling sore again, so probably best to stay home and rest it, I guess. I hate being frail. I doubt I’ll be back before the morrow, so have a lovely Sunday fun day and I will see you in the morning.

Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)

Saturday morning and I have a couple of errands to do this morning. I need to go by the bank (I haven’t made a deposit in person in eons) and I have to swing by the grocery store. Sigh. I really didn’t want to leave the house today, but here we are. It’s also a struggle these days to get through as we go through and experience the collapse of the American experiment in self-rule. I think another significant part of our history that isn’t taught the way it should be is we aren’t taught about how many Tories there were in the colonies during the lead up to and aftermath of the Revolution. We aren’t taught New England threatened to secede during the War of 1812, or that there were people on both sides of the Civil War1 that sympathized with the other side; North and South weren’t monoliths the way we are taught. We aren’t taught about how many Americans were Nazi sympathizers and isolationists before Pearl Harbor, using the slogan “America First”–so you see why I have always raised a cynical eyebrow whenever anyone uses that slogan; it was tied to Nazi sympathizers to me.

Watching the collapse of our country is challenging and more than a little bit depressing. It is terrible that just as I approach the age of retirement and the final chapter of my life…well, the retirement may turn out to be involuntary, as my clinic’s funding is definitely on the chopping block, Social Security is about to be looted and destroyed, and I don’t want to even look at the paltry 401k, which has also probably evaporated. No job and no retirement funds is going to be awesome when I turn 64. Paul got the notice from the NEH to not bother applying for grant funding, as it’s all been cut, so his job may not survive this, either–no more festivals in the spring. So, miss me with “we need to be nice to MAGA voters now finding out”–fuck them now and forever. I will never forgive them, and their suffering lightens mine. You want to embrace them, be my guess. Me? I will never stop laughing and pointing, let alone mocking them and enjoying their tears. My patience has worn out for ignorant haters, sorry not sorry– and as they so eloquently put it, “fuck your feelings.”

Yesterday was a nice day, overall. I got up, had a virtual meeting at work, and then did my Admin work before running some errands. I got that done, and then Paul and I made a Costco run and spent an insane amount of money. After getting home, lugging everything into the house and putting it all away, I was tired. I collapsed into my chair for a while as Paul went upstairs to work on the NEH grant–but got the email so didn’t have to bother for the rest of the evening and we dove further into The Residence, which I am greatly enjoying. Uzo Adoba is fantastic as Cordelia Copp, the world’s greatest detective, and it’s very well cast, high production values, and the writing is quite crisp. The chief usher at the White House (the divine Giancarlo Esposito) is murdered during a state dinner, and Cordelia is brought in to solve the murder. I think what’s most interesting is the divide between the White House domestic staff v. the White House political staff; the domestics work for the House, the political staff comes and goes. I’d never really thought much about the staff of the residence, so it’s an interesting look at how that all works, and it’s very cleverly structured. Highly recommend.

I do have some errands to do today, and a lot of straightening up to do as well. I want to get some reading and writing in this morning, so I can go to the gym tomorrow (I know, right?) and get some more done. I’ve been letting things slide a lot lately, which probably means I am depressed, which isn’t surprising, given the state of the world and everything else going on in my life. I think there’s an element of why bother with this book, to be honest, which is counter-productive and quite self-destructive, but it’s hard to be productive when your default is almost always pessimism. I always knew Republicans were working very hard to destroy everything decent about this country (unfettered capitalism is sociopathic in nature), but I never dreamed they might actually succeed. To paraphrase Game of Thrones: “Whenever I wonder why the Republicans would do something so counter-productive to democracy, I like to play a little game: what is the worst reason they would want to do this?”

Littlefinger was right, even if he did end up with his throat slit for his treachery.

Yesterday I also realized that one of the great American traditions, going back to colonial days, of evading paying duties and tariffs was smuggling. I used to love to read about Colonial smugglers (John Hancock was one), and some great fiction was built up around smuggling. I’ve always thought the years of Prohibition (and alcohol smuggling) in New Orleans would be an interesting time to write about. That decade saw the rise of Huey Long to power in Louisiana, and there are some fantastic stories about that post-Storyville time here. Jean Lafitte was a pirate, too–but he was also a very successful smuggler. But again, one of the great problems of New Orleans/Louisiana research is going down wormholes and sidebars–my ADHD does not matters at all in this regard; I do remember wanting to write about “Mrs. Officer,” the first woman cop in New Orleans, who was hired because they needed a woman to search and interrogate criminal women, which was a problem during Storyville days. I mean, what a great decade to research and write about! Imagine what “Mrs. Officer”2 endured in terms of misogyny as the only woman cop in an era where women couldn’t vote.

There’s also a protest today scheduled in New Orleans, as well as around the country. I’m hoping to make it, it just depends on how tired I am after getting things done this morning. I feel pretty good right now, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t flag later, either.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you most likely tomorrow morning.

  1. This is a classic example of why I say we don’t teach history properly (which will end up being a longer-form essay for my newsletter at some point). There were plenty of Tories during the American Revolution. There were Southern sympathizers in the North and Unionists in the South–I knew about the North, but whenever I’d come across that about the South I figured it was after-the-fact apologia, excusing Southern whites for their inhumanity. But over the least few years as I’ve done more deep dives into Alabama history, and hearing more old family stories, I’ve come to realize it was actually true. Erik Larson discusses this in more detail in his The Demons of Unrest, which I do recommend. ↩︎
  2. SHe was always referred to as “Mrs. Officer,” which also makes a great title. ↩︎

Knock on Wood

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I can go in a little later than usual this morning, so I am sipping my coffee and eating my morning slice of marble coffee cake (from Rouses, and I love it) and slowly trying to get it together this morning before I hit the road for the office. I did some work last night, and some chores when I got home, but feel a little tired this morning–moving kind of slow here at the junction–but I can come straight home from the office tonight and I am going to get some work done tonight. Tomorrow is my work-at-home, and I have a department meeting to get through also. I can live with it. I think we’re also going to Costco this weekend (got to stock up before prices start rising uncontrollably, thanks again, MAGA trash voters), and I really need to pull it together for myself. The auction is still making money (the auction is closed but the donate button is still active), which is super-awesome, and very uplifting. Obviously, it doesn’t mean everyone who donated and everyone who bid are actually allies through and through, but it’s something, and I am not going to be cynical about raising over 300% of our goal. Woo-hoo, way to go, everyone! A bright light shining through these steadily darkening times.

It was very windy yesterday and we are having high winds again today, which is odd. It’s also much warmer than it usually is around this time of year, which is also odd, and definitely problematic for the looming summer. Sigh, and everything is going to be more expensive, including power (thanks again, MAGA!). The two grocery runs I made this week came out to over $140 combined, and I didn’t really get all that much, which completely sucks. I was tired when I got home from work yesterday, and wrote for a little while until I got stuck. I still got in over a thousand words, so I am calling that a win.

This week, a recovery from the festivals week, also involved the auction–not to mention the easy to see it coming second Great Depression–so it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster and now that all the adrenaline has died off, I am a bit worn down, which is why I think I am physically tired and a little mentally fatigued. The day is going to be relatively easy, overall; we’re not busy in the clinic today and I should be able to get a lot of paperwork and admin stuff taken care of, and I get to go home an hour early, which is terrific. Sparky will certainly appreciate it, and I want to get some chores done tonight. I need to do another load of laundry, and the dishes, pick up around the apartment, and take out garbage and so forth. Sigh. We also have a department meeting tomorrow morning that I can join remotely. Sigh.

I also have to get back to reading my current reads. I was enjoying both The Get Off and Moonraker, so I want to get them done soon. Moonraker is more interesting in the juxtaposition between the tone and tenor of the books vs the silliness of the movies. It is very much of its time, and the whole “gentlemenly” approach to the spy genre is snobbish. classist, and yet still interesting in a weird, classist elitist kind of way; the whole gentility thing they still have across the pond is something we’ve never quite adapted completely, which isn’t a bad thing. It’s been tried before, obviously, and some are still trying; the Boston Club and other organizations like it dot New Orleans–because of Carnival krewes. Carnival krewes were, from the very beginning, nothing more than an extension/adaptation of the men’s clubs in London, which I will definitely need to talk about when I write my essay about revisiting the novel.

And on that groggy note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Thursday be free of drama and full of joy, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.