Category: childhood

Bye Bye Love

It’s now Friday morning with a storm taking aim at the Gulf Coast and I am driving northbound later. I have a benefits meeting on-line this morning before I can load up the car and head out on the highway (looking for adventure) later on. I’ll probably have to drive through rain, but Dad’s going to his high school’s football game so won’t be there until after I arrive (he got in last night). Yesterday was a pretty good day; it’s literally amazing what a difference getting a good night’s sleep can have on a person. I felt good all day, got a lot of stuff done at the office, and then departed to run my errands: food for Paul and the mail. I also picked up two books: Dr. Stacey Patton’s Strung Up: How White America Learned to Lynch Black Children, which is, I am sure, going to be a difficult if necessary read, and The Rush by Nathaniel Philbrick, about the California Gold Rush and the Civil War. I love Philbrick’s work–I do love some excellent history–and while I am trying to only read horror this month…Dr. Patton’s book certainly qualifies as real-life horror, doesn’t it? (And yes, the very first picture on the very first page is of the horribly damaged body of a lynching victim, in all of its horror and nastiness and inhumanity. When I do read and write about Dr. Patton’s book, I will probably call the entry Southern Discomfort.)

Yes, I was tired when I got home last night, dipping into this week’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City while Sparky dozed deeply in a cat puddle in my lap. I suspect he’s going to miss me all week, but will be very glad to see me when I get home next Friday evening. I still have to pack–I have my annual benefits meeting from work on-line at nine this morning–and then I’ll get to cleaning up and packing. I’m probably taking too much with me to read and/or work on, but…there are worse things than not having enough to read or work on. The storm will come through Alabama where we’ll be tomorrow morning and afternoon; so we’ll probably be indoors watching football games tomorrow morning/afternoon. I’m going to take my time driving, and I am in no rush to leave. It may be rough–I may consider postponing the drive until Sunday morning–but…I think it’ll be okay. I won’t decide this morning–but if I am not here tomorrow morning, it’s because I am up there.

The books I need to read to moderate the panel in Baton Rouge arrived, and I am very intrigued–both are science-fiction young adult novels in series that appear to be space operas, a la Star Wars, which we all know is my jam. I do feel a little unqualified–I don’t think I’ve ever read y/a scifi before–because I am not a big scifi guy; not that I don’t like it, but I read mostly crime fiction. I’ve read the big scifi names–Azimov, Heinlein, the Dune series, etc.–and dabbled a bit in the lesser-knowns, always enjoyed it, and have definitely seen more film in the genre than read books. So, I am going to have to do some research, not only on the genre but my panelists as well, which is always fun, but will also interrupt my horror reading for the month, which I think I will extend into November since my October is being broken up by a trip and by having to read outside of horror. And then it’s Noirmas season!

Hopefully this trip is going to get me to a place where I can read regularly again. I am really looking forward to listening to Shadowlands in the car on the way up there, and then reading some more while I am up in Kentucky this coming week. I’m not sure what the week up there will hold for me–we may go exploring or sight-seeing, as Kentucky is both beautiful and historic; Dad and I went to two Civil War battlefields one time when I was up there, and of course I’ve always wanted to see Henry Clay’s home, and that of his brother–abolitionist Cassius Clay, whom Muhammed Ali was originally named after–which could be fun. I know we’ll probably do some Dad errands, and I’ll get to see my sister.

And I always enjoy the drive back to New Orleans from up there, too.

After further checking the weather, there’s a possibility–a strong one–of flash flooding along 59 north thru Mississippi today when I’d be driving through there, so yeah, going to wait until Sunday morning now–which gives me time to do the packing and cleaning and some errands and so forth. It also means I can have some things delivered tomorrow for Paul and all the pressure of hurrying has been reduced. Heavy sigh. That’s a good thing, and it also gives me more time to get things done before I leave Sunday morning, which is yet another plus.

Which means I will be here again tomorrow morning! So now, I am going to head into my meeting and the spice mines for the rest of the day. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back again tomorrow morning! See you then!

I do appreciate that he’s not waxed and completely hairless.

Don’t Tell Me

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel…slacker-ish this morning for some reason. Yesterday was a simply lovely day, from beginning to end, and I did manage to get some things done. Paul went to a show last night in the Quarter–a work thing–and so I was here all by my lonesome after about half-time or so of the LSU game (they won; GEAUX TIGERS!), and there were a lot of interesting games and outcomes yesterday, too. I did some reading, some writing, and some cleaning, and somehow wound up staying up later than I’d intended. I also got up later this morning than usual; but that’s also on me. The Saints play this afternoon, and I need to run to make groceries at some point this morning, too, but that’s not a big deal. I just need to get motivated.

Good luck with that, Gregalicious.

As I mentioned, LSU won, beating Texas A&M handily 35-6. It was only 14-3 at halftime, but again the Tigers had a big third quarter and put the game away. The defense looked impressive, and the offense misfired a few times, but overall, the Tigers looked dominant. We also don’t know how good or bad Texas A&M is this season (they lost to Kentucky in College Station last week)–but we also don’t know about Mississippi, either, after Florida embarrassed them in Gainesville yesterday 52-28 (!!!). Auburn beat Vanderbilt, and I caught the end of the Mississippi State-Missouri game, which MSU won with a strong defensive stand in the fourth quarter. I watched Texas-Tennessee, which came down to the last play, and Georgia embarrassed Oklahoma (shame) while Alabama buried South Carolina. I also caught the highlights of Iowa winning at Michigan and Wisconsin surprising Penn State. Overall, a very exciting day of college football. LSU takes a break from the SEC next weekend, playing McNeese State, while there are some other great games, too. I do love college football.

And yes, yesterday morning during the battle of the orange-and-white UT’s, I finished the first draft of my story, which pleased me to no end. It’s about forty-one hundred words, but they are mostly good words, and now I need to edit and revise. Again, it’s a very long shot, but I do enjoy writing, and it’s always nice to make very good progress on something. I may do some editing this morning after I post this and before I summon the energy and motivation to actually make the grocery list and head to the store. I also need to order some things to be delivered this morning, too.

While I mostly managed to avoid the news yesterday, I did occasionally check in on social media to see what was going on and that’s when I came across the horrific story of the Cornell 7….remind me about the masculinity crisis again? The real masculinity crisis lies in how they treat women, and so many of them fail. Cannot IMAGINE why so many women would choose the bear, can you? It’s hilarious, I’ve been trying to work my way into my newsletter essay about masculinity and my failures to be the traditional male in this patriarchical society and finally realize something about myself while reading up on the Cornell horror (and yes, there’s a rapist on the LSU football team–which is appalling–but I am not talking about that case because I’ve not had a chance to “do my own research,”–but I fail to see any research or reading that would make LSU look good, frankly)–the reason I didn’t feel particularly boy-oriented was because I never understood why we weren’t supposed to like girls at all, and that didn’t change after puberty, either, when girls were reduced to their breasts, ass, and fuckability, which is also part of the reason I wrote #shedeservedit, and now I have some more things to discuss there. (And no, I’m not saying my view of women wasn’t curdled by exposure to male-centering and women-dismissal; I’ve said and behaved in ways towards women that are toxic, but I learned and would like to believe I’ve unlearned a lot of my upbringing and social pressuring.)

I spent some more time yesterday with The Dead Zone, and John Smith is one of my favorite Stephen King characters. I am remembering, too, while I reread how much I’ve always loved this novel and how big of a fan I used to be (not getting into it now, or maybe ever), and that incredible run of great novels he had from Carrie through Misery. Maybe I should revisit another one, too? It’s been a while since I’ve revisited Firestarter….

I was reminded yesterday also about Richard Speck. He murdered nurses in Chicago when I was five years old, and I remember the horror vividly (I also remember when the news broke about Sharon Tate and the other victims on Cielo Drive in the Hollywood Hills). I’ve never read up on the Speck murders, but I read Helter Skelter as a teenager and it was terrifying–I’ve generally avoided reading anything else on the Manson family since. I remember, in both cases, how upset my mother was–a rural country girl living in Chicago with generalized anxiety disorder–and again wonder how much it must have terrified her when we weren’t home. Mothers worry, of course, but I wish I’d known when she was alive about the anxiety; I would have worked harder to ease her mind. (I also believe the anxiety shortened her life, but…she did make it to eighty-one.) Does anyone know of any good books or writing about Speck?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and GEAUX SAINTS!

Candy Perfume Girl

Here we are on a college football Saturday1 (GEAUX TIGERS!) and all is quiet in the Lost Apartment. I ran errands yesterday, got the mail, picked up my copy of the new Tananarive Due (yay! Hello, October Halloween Horror Month!), and after working at home, I did the laundry and cleaned up around here–somehow the kitchen had somehow gotten out of control again–while the Real Housewives screamed at each other on my television. I don’t know why I find that so entertaining, but I do and I am not apologizing for it. (And yes, I am going to write about it at some point.) We also watched The Traitors: New Blood and started the new American Horror Story: 13, which hurray for Jessica Lange, and hurray for Joey Pollari, who is playing the male lead–been a fan since catching the young openly gay actor in American Crime, an excellent anthology series from the 10s that didn’t draw near the audience it deserved for its writing and incredible cast, which included Regina King in every season. (I’ll watch Regina King in anything.)

I also went back through the book cases and massive TBR stacks to pick out an ambition list of reading for October, especially given how little I’ve been reading lately. My rereads are going to be The Dead Zone (long overdue for a reread, at least since 2016) by Stephen King and The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson. The new to me reads, if I manage, will be Christina Henry’s The House that Horror Built, A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher, and Shadowlands by Peter Straub, which I’ve never gotten around to in the forty years and more it’s been available (people always say their favorite Straub is Ghost Story; mine is Floating Dragon); I started it when it was first out in paperback, but never finished. I guess it didn’t grab me, but I grabbed another copy when I read a really interesting piece about it sometime earlier this century. (I also met Straub at Stokercon in Nassau, Long Island at least fifteen or sixteen years ago–the same conference I first met a pre-Gone Girl Gillian Flynn. Both were delightful and charming.)

I actually started my reread of The Dead Zone, and while I only got a few pages into the prologue, I was immediately reminded of why I love King, and that Johnny Smith is probably one of my favorite King characters, and while this book was always overshadowed in my mind by The Stand, which is my favorite King, as the books were released consecutively. I remember back when King was still a new writer and unappreciated by critics and reviewers while his books were literally flying off the shelves–one of my English professors in college, was very disdainful when he noticed I was carrying a copy of Firestarter with me, again shattering any thought I may have had about pursuing English as an undergraduate major because the professors were the worst kinds of snobs and my fellow English majors put no thought into their reading or analysis that wasn’t spoon-fed to them by the professors, whose egos definitely needed stroking (they all had mediocre minds).2 The irony is that while King has always done work of the highest quality, he was unappreciated while he was doing his actual best work. That run of novels, beginning with Carrie and ending with It, is probably unmatched by any other author in the canon of US authors; certainly in horror and crime….and those earlier works stand the test of time; I’ve reread all of those books numerous times.

Yes, a revisitation of a King classic is de rigeur.

Yesterday was a stunningly beautiful day. When I walked out to the car to run said errands, I was amazed at how gorgeous is was outside: warm but not excessively hot, and a coolness to the air that was very refreshing. Then I got in the car, started her up and looked at the temperature gauge and laughed. It was 86 degrees outside–but it wasn’t humid, which makes all the difference. (It’s currently 77 degrees outside; the kind of weather where you want to sit outside and read….or would, if I had a comfortable place to sit outside and read.) This is how the summer breaks us here. Anyway, as I drove around I was reminded again of how beautiful this city actually is, and again how lucky I am to live here so I can be continually inspired by this stunningly beautiful city.

I ordered myself a pair of Apple Beats Pro to finish off the gift card Dad sent me for my birthday. One of the most annoying thing to me about the new iPhone I got last year was that wired earbuds don’t work when plugged into them–and besides, I can’t use earbuds and my hearing aids at the same time. The other night when Paul came home I realized he uses over-the-ear headphones that wirelessly connect to his phone and a long overdue lightbulb turned on over my head. I can use over the ear headphones too, so I went ahead and ordered them. They came this week, but alas, I haven’t had time to set them up yet, so I intend to do that this morning. Just in time, too–since the weather has changed (hopefully for good) and I can go for walks now with them. My goal is to go back to the gym in January, and I need to start building up my stamina before that return.

At this point, kicking Ed Sheeran when he’s down is a bit mean and bullying, but I did laugh when his shows at Kraft’s stadium wound up canceled because of this huge nor’easter heading for New England, which has me worried about my friends up there. Take care everyone, don’t take unnecessary chances, and stay safe up there, okay?

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines for the day. Hope you have a marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here bright and early before the Saints game tomorrow. See you then!

Love this image of birds over a bayou near Lake Borgne.
  1. Very bad news for the Tennessee Vols, though–Trump is coming to their game with Texas today, and wherever he goes, the home team loses. I don’t like either team, but will watch and hope for a good game. ↩︎
  2. My college experience remains the biggest disappointment of my life. I expected so much more than a continuation of high school, you know? But…I also went to two really shitty colleges. ↩︎

Frozen

Wednesday Pay the Bills Day has rolled around again somehow, and here we are. I woke up from a very deep sleep around three thirty this morning, and napped/dozed until the shattering shriek of the alarm pierced through the darkness, impacting my ear drums with such a brutal assault that I had no choice but to hit snooze…followed by turning the alarm off and getting up before that horrendous noise erupted again. I feel pretty good this morning. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home after work and errands; I sat with His Majesty sleeping in my lap for a while as I caught up on the news (that UN Speech–so aspirational and inspirational. Cut to media: “He’s finally sounding presidential.1” Eye roll to infinity) before getting up to clean up the kitchen. I unloaded the dishwasher and ran another load overnight, and cleaned off the counters, took out the trash and recycling, too. If I can keep up with the dishes and stuff all week, I don’t have to do that on the weekend and thus can get more of this long overdue deep clean of the house done. There are some awesome games this weekend, too, capped off with Texas A&M coming to Death Valley for a night game.

The Saints play at home this Sunday in the afternoon, as well, so I can get things done in the morning and early afternoon and then settle into my chair for the game. And while I have some work to do on work-at-home Friday as well, it’s just paperwork.

I feel pretty good this morning, and like I have finally managed to adjust to getting up at six. I am so not a morning person, and for most of my life succeeded in not having a 9-to-5 job–I’d rather sleep and get up when I am done sleeping and work in the afternoons and evenings. Then again, whenever I had an early morning job in the past, it would eventually get to the point where I’d look ahead and just see this kind of nightmare existence stretching on and on forever. Maybe I don’t do that anymore because an end is in sight? Granted, that’s dependent on being able to retire…which, by how things are going in this country, may not be possible.

I realized yesterday, when I saw that the “Clavicular” creature (Braden Peters, because of course his name is Braden) was arrested for allegedly drugging and raping a minor, that my essay series (which I am way behind on) for the newsletter about my not being a “typical male” and my personal struggles with the straitjacket of heterosexual values was primarily because I can’t really write about masculinity and my outsider’s view of it without defining those qualities that defined it when I was growing up–but reading this arrest news reminded me that I am not the only man who’s wrestled with masculinity tropes. Headlines have been screaming at us for years now about the “crisis” for straight men who are bewildered at how to be a man in this modern age…and wind up turning to idiots in the “manosphere”, or people like this idiot (or the Tate brothers) selling them a bundle of lies and bullshit about what “women really want” and so on, making men the victim in a society that continues to center them. (If only we could all be as oppressed as the straight white man in the US, amirite?) And there it was–how interesting that the issues a gay guy had with masculine tropes is now a straight man’s problem.

Years ago, Paul and I watched a horrible gay dating reality show called Boy Meets Boy, and something I noticed in that show–which had a terrible surprise twist that makes me think I should somehow rewatch and write about it again. Anyway, something I noticed about James–which I was noticing on other matchmaking shows as well–was he always talked about who the perfect man for him would be. That’s fine–we all have that kind of image in our heads when we’re single, don’t we–but…the premise is “I’m perfect and this is who he needs to be”, when the entire time I’m listening to him and watching and thinking, what do YOU have to offer? (My dream was a husband who liked to laugh, read, and was smart. My dream came true.) I mean, being chosen by him was how you won the show, but at the same time it was an awful lot of I and not a lot of we, which made me think he’d never find someone.

But this reminds me very much of the male loneliness epidemic and all these “crises” people are monetizing by telling young men how to be men…rather than doing the actual work they need to do in order to be attractive to a woman as a life mate. Women don’t care about muscles all that much; the truth is, the bar is set so low for most men that it staggers the mind that they can’t meet it, you know? Flowers on special dates, the occasional candy, and just listening to them and treating them like an actual living, breathing human being actually goes a very long fucking way.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, and I will see you again tomorrow morning bright and early. See ya then!

  1. I am being facetious here, but how many times have we heard some stupid pundit say something like this in the past? ↩︎

Take a Bow

Thursday morning and I got up before my alarm, wide awake and feeling rested. Weird, right? On a THURSDAY last day in the office for the week morning? Madness. Sparky is also being super-affectionate this morning. He keeps wanting to sit on my shoulders, so he can head-butt me and purr up there while I walk around doing things. I don’t mind, I just don’t know why he is some mornings and some mornings he isn’t. Of course it doesn’t make sense because cat, but I can’t help but try to make sense of it, because I ain’t right in the head, you know?

Last night wasn’t bad. I headed uptown to pick up the mail (my copy of The Miracle at St. Bruno’s that I got from ebay, more on that later) and swung by the grocery store to make a few bags. I came home, Sparky needed a lap, and that was the end of that. I watched news and examined my new book–a paperback in pristine condition, like I picked it up off the rack at Zayre like I did my original copy–and watched the news—along with any number of videos ripping Ed Sheeran1 and Robert Kraft new assholes. Paul brought a pizza home for dinner, which was lovely, and we watched LSU-The Difference on ESPN, a documentary series they are filming for this season (think ESPN isn’t all in on LSU? I don’t they are doing one for every top team in the country, and there wasn’t a guarantee LSU would be any good this year, and really, still can’t be sure how good they are anyway at this point). I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home and put everything away, but…I slept very well for the first time this week, and it felt marvelous. I think we’re going to Costco tomorrow after work, too. Huzzah!

I’ve fallen down a wormhole of Internet research thanks to a Facebook friend who shared a post about a “ghost ship” that can be seen under the right conditions on the Tombigbee River in southwest Alabama, the Eliza Battle. The ship was a classic steamboat of the era (which I will always associate–steamboats, that is–with Mark Twain), transporting cotton bales and passengers when a fire broke out in the cotton and the entire ship went up in flames before sinking. I like the idea of a ghost steamboat (I am also partial to steamboats, maybe I should write about that sometime), which could make an interesting story. I love these old folk tales of Southern states, and feel like some of them could be used to write novels or short stories; I’ve been trying to write one about the legend of Freniere and the 1915 Hurricane, which wiped the town out, for years now. Learning Alabama and Louisiana history, legends, and lore is ever so much fun, too!

Has the entire world gone mad? After the Pink meltdown, the Ed Sheeran disaster, and Arch Manning proving he has no home training, I pretty much thought we were done with ignorant celebrity bullshit, but Sarah Paulson decided to say hold my beer and gave an incredibly tone-deaf white woman interview, in which she expressed disappointment that her Black male costars on The People v. O. J. Simpson got movie offers and she didn’t–she was trying to make the point that it’s more difficult for women to get parts in movies because those roles are few and far between for women, whereas male-centered movies are a dime a dozen. It was tone-deaf to make the comparison with two Black actors, who face an entirely but equally horrifying different kind of fight–yes, they are men, but they aren’t white men. And she left out the most obvious reasons producers don’t think about her when they’re casting–girl, you’re an out and proud lesbian. Hollywood is not only misogynist and racist, but it’s also incredibly homophobic. It’s getting better, but there are still an endless amount of problems in that “liberal” community.

Speaking of homophobia, I kind of love that congressional candidate Chris Gallant did, in his pre-politician life, posed in BDSM gear and there are also pictures of him on Fire Island in his underwear. YAWN. He’s running for a House seat on Long Island, is an openly gay former Marine and firefighter…and the only thing his MAGA opponent can come up with is him posing for some sexy pictures that exposed nothing prurient and was in the past…newsflash: most gay men, have sexy photos of themselves, in bathing suits at the very least, and more have nudes than a straight person might realize. I also love that he’s being defiant and refusing to be shamed out of the race. Pictures in BDSM gear doesn’t mean you’re into BDSM, and if you are, who the fuck cares? ANd seriously, the party of MAGA and the buffoon they worship has some fucking nerve trying to morality police anyone. Yo, you’re party leader is a pedophile rapist psychopath. Why don’t you start policing him? Anyway, I donated a little to his campaign.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely, lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning on work-at-home Friday!

  1. I’ve taken to calling him “Gingerdoodle.” ↩︎

Swim

Wednesday morning and we’re making our way through the week nicely, I think. Today is going to be very busy in the clinic, and so I am expecting to be very tired when I get home tonight. That’s fine, the weekend looms, as well as my work-at-home day on Friday. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home, but then I had to make a bed for Sparky out of my lap while I caught up on the news. What a wild day yesterday was, in unimportant news in the overall scheme of things. The whole Ed Sheeran1 torching his career2 wasn’t on my bingo card for 2026, but then again, neither was Arch Manning being a misogynist asshole about Holly Rowe either (he did apologize, both publicly and privately, but…I guess I’ll just chalk that whole mess up to he was smart enough to apologize, even if it reeked of a PR team). Bottom line–grabbing your ankles and bending over for a morally corrupt billionaire doesn’t fly in these times. The country is angry, angry about everything and rightfully so; but…I also don’t have a lot of sympathy (any, really) for the people who gleefully voted for all of this but are so penitent now (not penitent enough to abandon the Republican Party, though) and upset that they aren’t being treated like the “innocent victims” they claim to be–and he “lied” isn’t a defense. I heard him very clearly, and I saw the signs and shirts at the rallies and heard the chants.

If I knew, there’s no reason why you didn’t–because you literally cannot concede, even now, that you based your vote on your own bigotry. Given into, and following, evil isn’t a mistake and you were a very willing participant. We all saw it. You just chose not to, because it felt good to strike a blow for white supremacy, economic disaster, and another forever war. Oh, excuse me, it felt good to strike back against social justice progress and stick it to those libs, right? You voted to hurt queer people and did so with a great big smile on your face…well, this liberal faggot feels nothing for you. Finally, at long last, people are sick to fucking death of your bullshit and you’re finally feeling those consequences you wanted for everyone that you don’t like…and I’m supposed to now feel sorry for you?3 I didn’t vote for you to lose your family’s generational farm and wealth, why should my tax dollars bail your stupid asses out? I’d rather student loan debt be retired than another bailout for MAGA farmers and ranchers.

Life’s hard, bitches. Pull yourselves up by the bootstraps. FREEDOM! Maybe cut back on some of your streaming services, or make coffee at home instead of going to Starbucks. And avocado toast, I hear, is really expensive so don’t waste money on fripperies. Economize. Where’s that American “can do” mentality? Work harder! Maybe do some ride-sharing work, or delivery for an app. There’s all kinds of ways you can make some money to supplement your farm/ranch, isn’t there? You don’t need any of that socialist bail out money, do you? No, you thought “he fucked us but bailed us out with welfare the last time, so he’ll take care of us always”–ha ha ha ha ha.

Fools.

As I mentioned, creating a lap for Sparky last night kept from doing much of anything except watching the news, as I can’t use my laptop with a cat in my lap–and oh, the dirty looks I get whenever I even slightly shift while he’s asleep! Plus, it’s so lovely to come home from work and get affection from a cat. On the way home tonight I have to run some errands, and it’s also supposed to rain today. So, who knows what kind of place I’ll be in tonight when I finally trudge up the stairs and enter the Lost Apartment, having survived another day in the mad jungle. Oh, and my latest newsletter went out this morning; click here to read my takes on Flipper.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Hope your Wednesday is charming, lovely, and happy, Constant Reader, and I will be back bright and early tomorrow morning.

I’ve always loved this image, taken out my bay windows during a thunderstorm around noon on a Sunday a few years ago. It has a real creepy Gothic feel to it.
  1. One can’t help but be amused that Sheeran’s statement, primarily focused on him being “responsible” to the other artists on his tour–resulted in them all quitting. That did make me laugh. When I read his statement, all I could think was, dude, this is going to blow up in your face, and I was right. Regardless where you come down in your opinions and thoughts about Gaza and Palestine, the principle here–suppressing of political speech for an artist–should concern you, and it’s partly why Sheeran is being dragged for filth so intensely. ↩︎
  2. By the way, the billionaire who caused all this is the one at whose wedding he performed at, and has called “super sweet” before…yes, those are words often used to describe billionaires. Yes, Ed, you sacrificed your public image for a “super sweet” billionaire suppressing free speech. I’d delete you off my Spotify, but guess what? I don’t listen to your hackneyed pablum music. Way to be a free speech warrior and stand up for your fellow artists….god knows, we certainly can’t expect the half-billionaire cosplaying as Irish (cultural appropriation, especially when he has no clue how the Irish feel about oppression) to stand on principle. ↩︎
  3. Also, did you mask during COVID? Did you get your vaccines? Because as a public health worker, there’s yet another reason for me to completely despise you, your ancestors, and your descendants. Consider it a generational curse. ↩︎

Drowned World

And here it is, Tuesday morning, and I feel pretty decent. I slept better last night than I have in a while, which was lovely, and comfy as the bed was this morning, I got up and wasn’t tempted to stay in bed longer than I could or should. Sparky wasn’t too hungry this morning, because he didn’t even come up before the second time I hit snooze. I didn’t do much of anything last night after I got home from work; I should have made groceries (or had some delivered) but it was 100 degrees when I got into the car to come home yesterday afternoon and it just sucked all the life out of me before I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. Ah, well. I also didn’t do much of anything once I got home, either; I plopped down into my easy chair and Sparky curled up in my lap and that was it for the evening. I caught up on the news, started watching another episode of Scream Queens, which I interrupted when Paul came down to eat and we watched the latest Lanterns. I really love that show; it may be one of the best super-hero TV shows of all time; definitely up there with Agatha All Along, which was amazing.

And while I may not have done any writing yesterday, I did think about what I am writing right now, which is always a good thing, and far better than actually not thinking about it at all. I should be able to get this hellish transitional chapter finished tonight or tomorrow, and then I can move on to the next chapter. And yes, I just remembered I always have problems with Chapter Five. Sigh. It’s amazing how much we forget how painful writing a book can be whenever we start writing another week; helpful selective amnesia, much as how we here in New Orleans forget every year how bad summer can be; every year it’s like a horrific reminder, and the same goes with writing a book, especially when your only deadline is your own, you know? Contractual deadlines are entirely different kind of stress and aggravation, but much as I always worry when I sit down to write that words aren’t going to come, or that I’ll veer away from the story I am telling (it’s easy when your mind wanders as much as mine does), and while I always hate having to cut good writing out of my work because it doesn’t fit, no matter how pretty the language is (“kill your darlings”), sometimes it is necessary. (Right now I am resisting cutting this opening sentence for the chapter: There’s nothing better than a nap after some intense fucking. I love that sentence.)

Ah, my coffee is kicking in and I am feeling pretty good and awake and cheerful now (I know, right? What is wrong with me?) ; we’ll see how the rest of the day goes, shan’t we? We’re not terribly busy in the clinic this morning, so I should be able to get some of the paperwork done that I need to get done around my appointments. My new testing room is taking some getting used to, because I always have had my clients sit to my right when I am testing them; now they are on my right and the entire room is geared to the left instead of the right, which is taking me some getting used to; it’ll probably feel normal to me by the end of this week. Changes of habit aren’t easy when you’ve been doing something almost exactly the same way for twenty years, you know?

The news continues to be grim, and while I see many people being excited about a blue wave, that’s not taking into condition the possibilities that there will again be election shenanigans, or election outcome shenanigans. We’re already well on our way down the path to authoritarianism; it’s now a question of what will be left to rebuilt from once this administration and its un-American treason. (Interesting how the presidencies regarded by historians as the most corrupt in our history always has an R after their name, isn’t it? Grant, Harding, Nixon, Bush II, and now this thing.) I also believe two things about yesterday’s dialing back of AI by the plagiarists who want to make “thinking machines’; one, that the money dried up and it’s all about to crash and take the economy with it, and two, they’ve finally realized they can’t contain it, and that technology, in the wrong hands, is extremely dangerous. (Has no one at all ever watched the original Terminator movie, or Blade Runner, or The 100, or read Dune? Christ, even Azimov killed off all the robots in the universe except for one!)

Oh, I did finish writing a newsletter about Flipper, which is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning. I have to say, I am enjoying myself writing these newsletters, and I am slowly but surely beginning to feel more confidence about writing them, which is a really good thing, methinks. The fiction I’ve been writing at a snail’s pace is also much better than things I’ve done over the last six or seven years–or at least, I feel much better about them. I feel more confident about writing in general, I think; it’s just a matter of reining everything back it and focusing on getting things done.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Hope you have a great day, thanks as always for stopping by, and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Those boots? With THAT bandanna? Gurrrrlllll…

Sanctuary

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and how are you this morning, Constant Reader? I didn’t feel like I slept very well when I first got up again, but now that I’m swilling coffee I feel more rested and relaxed than I thought I would when Sparky started rubbing against me and purring. It was also very nice to come downstairs to a cleaned and organized kitchen. I worked on the kitchen during the Michigan-Oklahoma game and did more during Alabama-Kentucky. Kentucky was terrible through the whole game, and Alabama played down to their level for three quarters. Likewise, LSU had an equally poor start against Louisiana Tech before turning it on in the second half. After LSU was winding down, we switched over in time to see Texas’ last minute comeback to beat Ohio State (good for you, local boy Arch!), which was also fun, as was Auburn’s domination of Southern Mississippi; overall, a good day in college football around the Lost Apartment, and the Saints start playing today, I think at Detroit? I really do love my football weekends in the fall. I was thinking about that very thing yesterday–and how much my love of football is connected to love of my family because we always watched football together.

Looks like another Democrat has thrown the trans community under the bus, and as I said, I am almost done completely with that party. I am so glad I never sent that prick Talarico a cent, and I am tired of grudgingly voting for them because they’re not quite as homophobic as MAGA. If leftists can become single issue voters and send the country down the drain, why can’t queer people? Oh, we have to unite, no matter what, despite homophobia being in our faces every day and the Democrats are too fucking afraid of having a spine that they are partly to blame for where we are now–and don’t think I”m not including Schumer and Jeffries in that enormous flaming pile of shit. Not one Democrat will call out Talarico and the other, either. That’s how much we matter to this group of spineless appeasers who can’t make a stand for humanity and decency. Never, ever, trust a fucking Christian minister, and don’t trust the bootlicking bottom feeders like Keith Edwards1 that support them and label them progressive. Listen to Black women, for fuck’s sake.

I’ve tried now, for years, to justify watching Real Housewives shows despite kind of feeling like a bad child getting away with something every time I do watch. The women are generally terrible people for the most part, and I try to embrace the mentality of a friend–“you shouldn’t feel guilt for doing something you enjoy”–but when the something that you enjoy makes you question on occasion if you yourself are contributing to the national brain rot and success of truly horrible people for simply being truly horrible people. I suppose there is something to the notion that they aren’t popular for being terrific, which is what they do seem to think. I need to really explore this more–why I enjoy the shows, what I get from them, and I believe a lot of the appeal is escapism, like the old night time soaps in the 1980s. A good case in point, though, is when you see housewives out of their usual element–like on The Traitors or Ultimate Girls’ Trip, I get a better impression of them and find myself liking them more. (Porsha was a lot of fun on The Traitors, for one example.)

But this Biermann child rape scandal is absolutely horrifying and gets worse with every new revelation. I have personally hated that woman since the first time I saw her on Bravo, and could never understand why this creature had a following on a show that was giving us Nene and Sheree, and more Queens later; we did not need this gold-digging narcissist on our television screens for any amount of time, let alone the spin-offs or bringing her back to the original show again. I remember her saying “I want to die in Dior” in that first season, and now it looks like she should die in prison for failing her children and most of all her own daughter; while still making excuses for her predator son and bailing him out and calling his more recent accuser a liar and other names, when she already knew he’d raped his sister. That is a disgusting human being. And no, I am not saying Kroy is without blame here, either. I never understood that relationship or marriage, honestly. I tried to respect her choices, I’ve tried to think of positive spins on her; she’s unashamedly herself, no matter how awful and amoral that self may be–but then I think about her offering her teenaged daughter up for a blow-job for John Legend tickets for the same son and you really begin to wonder what the hell was going on in that house? My sympathies are for the other children, frankly. As for Andy Cohen, he continues to show himself the worst kind of gay man, using and humiliating women and making them grovel for crumbs from his table.

Sigh.

I did send out my newsletter yesterday morning, and it got a mostly good reception, I wondered, because it was a reflection of 9/11 and the way this entire century has seemed so regressive ever since, even while some rights were gained, far many more were lost. (you can read it by clicking here.)

This weekend was good so far, overall, and I feel rested and good. I hope to get the rest of the apartment cleaned and tidied today–probably will do that during the Saints game–and I even reorganized the refrigerator, which was way overdue.

And on that note, I am getting another cup of coffee and making some breakfast before I head over to my chair and read for a bit. I hope to get some writing done, too–but…Saints game. See you here tomorrow morning, Constant Reader!

You know, he didn’t lose until he wore a T-shirt underneath to hide his nipples. Just sayin’.
  1. If you’re a friend of Taylor Lorenz, you’re a racist piece of shit, too. Hope this helps, Keith. ↩︎

Secret

Work-at-home Friday, and here we are! I am taking the day off because I have a doctor’s appointment this morning and I have another one in the afternoon. Sigh. That’s what sick time is for, after all, and I am going to try to get caught up on things I’ve let slide longer than I should have. It rained most of the day yesterday, along with flash flooding in the metro area and yes, they were thunderstorms. When I woke up yesterday morning, I opened my eyes in time for a very bright flash of lightning, followed instantly by a low rumble of thunder that lasted as I pulled on my sweats and fumbled around in the dark like Velma on Scooby Doo Where Are You looking for my glasses. By the time I got downstairs, turned on the kitchen lights and the coffee maker, it was pouring. The water draining off the roofs and the rain fall on the side yard made a stream about two inches deep, and the current heading toward the street was very, very fast. I’d used my wagon last night, and hadn’t folded it up and put it away, so it was out there filling up with water. It was still raining heavily when I went to work, then the rest of my work day it was off and on all day. Yesterday was an odd day at work, actually. We’re restructuring the department again, which meant the testing room I usually use needs to be used by someone else–our next nurse, which meant a big production of moving me to another testing room. Long story short, they set me up in the wrong room but I couldn’t get into the room they wanted me in because someone else had already set up in there for the day. So, I couldn’t set it up or anything, and piles of the stuff I used in the original room was stacked up on a table, which made the room look messy, and yeah–I didn’t like that off-balance feeling. It wasn’t raining when I ran some errands on the way home, and then Sparky and I got in the easy chair and got caught up on the news. Paul came home late, but we watched the finale of The Shards (more on that later), then Coco’s exit from the US Open before going to bed. I did sleep very well, and I actually feel pretty good this morning. I am going to do some chores around here before cleaning up for my appointment, and this afternoon I’ll get to work cleaning and doing laundry.

It’s also 9/11 today, and the 25th anniversary of that horrible day when everything changed. I’ve been working on a newsletter about my own memories of that day and time; and everything that happened afterwards. It’s a very somber day–kind of how Pearl Harbor Day was more of a thing when I was a kid, because it had only been twenty years since the Japanese attack when I was born. Not even twenty; I was born in August and the twentieth anniversary was in December, of course. We barely even notice December 7th anymore, which is wild to me; when I was a kid I thought we’d always remember World War II–which is clearly not the case.

The Shards was infuriating. For one thing, nothing was resolved in the finale. Why would you open the season finale of a show with a major subplot involving a serial killer with a new, completely unrelated murder and turn the last episode not doing much with the serial killer at all into a whole new whodunnit, which is completely unresolved. Nothing was resolved, everything was left hanging, and I have no one to blame but myself for watching another beautiful mess produced by Ryan Murphy. I am going to start reading the book this weekend–people I know and respect loved the book and hated the show (quelle surprise), so I am hopeful that the book will provide more of what I wanted from the show (and didn’t ever get).

There are some good games this weekend, but LSU is playing Louisiana Tech tomorrow night at the same time as Texas-Ohio State, which means flipping back and forth between games. Will the Tigers have a big night against La Tech? Will Clemson rebound from last weekend? The Saints also play this Sunday, and I imagine we’ll watch the US Open men’s final, too.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and adjourn to my chair to relax a bit before getting to work on chores and getting ready for my appointment. So, gave yourself a lovely little Friday, and I will be back tomorrow morning bright and early. Til then!

Bad Girl

Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!

I am up early to get blood drawn before I head into the office for the meeting, after which I am running some errands before coming home to do more work. Not sure when I am going to be able to finish and post this, but that’s just part of the thrill-ride that is my life! We’re also supposed to have rain off and on all day, with thunderstorms this evening. YIKES! But I will be safely home well before that, and the low possibility of street flooding. Never a dull moment in New Orleans!

Yesterday was fine. I got a little tired yesterday afternoon, but it was overall a pretty good day for me at the office. It wasn’t busy in the clinic so I was able to get a lot of other odds and ends taken care of, which was kind of nice. I finished paying my bills–turns out I had made a mistake last month; I thought I hadn’t paid the phone bill at the beginning of the month so went ahead and paid it again mid-month, which was actually my September payment. So, it’s not due again until October. Yay for me making a good mistake? I’ll take it–in this economy? You bet your ass I will. Traffic was heavy for some reason on the way home, but I did make it home and into the house to a needy kitty, whom I gave some attention to, before going into the living room and sinking into my chair. I caught up on the news, caught an episode of The Burbs, and when Paul got home, we watched this week’s Reacher and The Shards. At this point, The Shards is a gloriously beautiful train wreck, finding new rails to run off in every episode.

Okay, I am back at home and taking a lunch break. I got my errands taken care of on the way home, got the laundry started, and then dove headfirst into day job duties. I just came up for air, hungry, and remembered I hadn’t finished this, either. So hopefully I’ll be able to get this finished and posted before I have to go back to work. I do love working at home. And then…well, it’s a holiday weekend, isn’t it? I’ve kind of decided to set the book I’m reading aside and move on to something else, circling back to it again next month for Halloween Horror Month–which is also going to include watching some films I’ve not seen before; starting a slow rewatch of Dark Shadows; a revisit of The Dead Zone; and some horror short stories I am looking forward to digging into. This weekend, as I believe I have already mentioned several times, is LSU’s first game of the season, and yes, I am vaguely aware of the current lawsuits and controversies, and yes, am currently frowning in concern and disapproval, but I said when they started paying college players things like this–legal issues and eligibility questions. ow are college players not professionals already? That’s why I am not commenting on this. I don’t know enough about it to think about it logically, but my emotional knee-jerk reaction is to once again reiterate that I always said that money would eventually make college football unrecognizable to people of a certain age. Our governor seems determined to strip LSU of all academic credibility, they enrolled a rapist this semester, and of course, there was that horrifically racist video of the girls dragging a black baby doll with a rope through campus. LSU is slowly turning into a life-support apparatus for its athletics.

Sigh. I’m beginning to understand why older people are nostalgic for the past–but that feeling fades very quickly.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close as I need to head back into the spice mines. Sorry to be so brief, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get much of an entry done today; my apologies. I’ll try to make it up to you tomorrow, okay? Till then!

Big Sur in California is one of the most beautiful places in the world. The drive on Highway 1 is spectacular–and terrifying.