Category: childhood

We Live for Love

Tuesday and it’s back to the office with me today. It was a marvelously relaxing holiday weekend, and I was pleased to read some more, and have ideas and work on writing, even if it was mostly scribbling in my journal. I don’t have a problem with any of it, and yes, I know I should be a little bit more concerned that I didn’t apply fingers to keyboard more than I did this weekend, but fuck it. I get to have free time and get to have down time, don’t I? And if i don’t, that’s not a life I want to live, thank you very much. It rained all day again yesterday, along with a lovely early afternoon thunderstorm. I put on season three of The Traitors for background noise and started reading and thinking and writing again, like I had done on Sunday afternoon. At some point I’ll need to funnel that energy and thought into writing on the keyboard. I also spent some time in the morning diving into the morass that is the news, which was cheery on the Ukraine front but not so much anywhere else. Ah, well.

And so it goes, I guess. The reality is the country has been on the decline for decades, but MAGA certainly accelerated the rush to the inevitable collapse. Who knows what will rise from the ashes? Will it be better or worse? I probably won’t be here to see it, and yes, I am very concerned about the midterms. I won’t alarm anyone with my usual pessimistic forecasts, because sadly I am proven right more often than not. It’s also no fun being Cassandra and not being listened to, either. I always thought she was the most tragic character in the entire story of the Trojan War, and have always wanted to write from her perspective. It would be an interesting exercise—a woman who can see the future but isn’t believed which drives her deeper and deeper into madness which makes each prophecy harder to believe? That is a particular kind of hell, isn’t it?

I wish Madeline Miller would make that her next novel.

It also dawned on me over the course of the weekend that May is almost finished, which means it will be JUNE soon…which is PRIDE MONTH. Should I be that old queen and be gauche, cliché and stereotypical and turn my newsletter into queer stuff all month? Of course, you already know the answer to that, don’t you? And yes, the answer is always yes. I think it’s important, and if queer content bothers the subscribers they wouldn’t be there in the first place. No one is making anyone read it, either. So, bearing Pride rolling up so quickly, I took that into consideration for my next reads, tabling what I had already had on deck, and switching it up a bit. My new-to-me read will be All of Us Murderers, which ticks off several boxes for me in addition to its being a queer read: it’s also a historical Gothic romance; it’s written by a cisgender-identified woman; and it’s also a crime novel. These are all things I want to talk about more in my newsletter, so I can touch on them during the newsletter about this book. I’ve also set aside The Ivy Tree as my next reread for A Queer Kind of Death by George Baxt, which I read decades ago and have an eye to see how it holds up. It’s also historic and was originally published in the 1960s, with a Black gay main character written by a gay white man…which should also prove interesting to revisit and talk about.

I feel good this morning, rested and relaxed and in a decent mood. I did do some writing–by hand–yesterday–in my journal, in which I reworked and rewrote the opening to an in-progress short story. Of course it isn’t one that fits any submissions call I have found recently, which is par for the course, but now that I am in such a period of low productivity I’ve pretty much decided that whatever pops into my head is what I should work on, rather than trying to force something that doesn’t want to be forced, which makes the most sense to me at the moment. My Achilles tendons don’t feel tight anymore, either, which is the biggest win to me of the weekend.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

The famous bust of Queen Nefertiti, whose name meant “the beautiful one has come.” And yes, it’s in a Berlin museum, and yes, the Germans need to return it because it’s loot.

Rated X

Sunday morning, a good night’s sleep, and the rain continues today. It was very cozy inside the house all day yesterday, and I had a lovely, relaxing day of scribbling in my journal, working on newsletters, and reading more of A Violent Masterpiece, which I am really enjoying even as the plot kind of makes my skin crawl. It’s also so well-written it’s kind of inspirational. We also caught up on Hacks, and watched more of House of Ashur. Overall, it was pretty much a lovely, chill, relaxing day and this morning I feel very rested and relaxed, which is great; I’ve not really felt like this since getting back from my trip. I also slept a bit later–blame it on the rain–than I had intended to this morning–Sparky was a cuddlebug this morning rather than an “I must be fed!” immediacy he will use if he hears the alarm. Paul is going to the gym today, so I should have most of the afternoon free to do with as much as I please. I may try to write some today–I was making notes on revisions to make and writing to do yesterday–but there’s also some mess I have to clean up and organize and straighten today. Sigh–it never end, does it?

This week, while running errands in the car, out of nowhere I commanded Siri to play Pat Benatar’s Crimes of Passion album, and almost fifty years since it’s release it’s still a fucking banger of an album. I haven’t heard much about her in years, but I’ve noticed she hasn’t been “rediscovered” by the Gen Z reaction videos, nor is she mentioned in conversations about great women singers of the second half of the 20th century, which is a disgrace. The power and range in her voice! Her songs often were from the perspective of a strong woman who won’t put up with your nonsense, and she was fun to sing along to–and she had a lot of great songs, too.

I’m loving all this rain, not going to lie about it. It was amazing curling up with Sparky with a blanket and my book yesterday while the rain fell outside and on the house–absolutely perfect. It also helped that the book is so amazing and like its brilliant predecessor Everybody Knows (that weary sounding title being absolutely perfect) takes on a subject I feel very strongly about. It’s also inspiring me to work some more on Chlorine and to make that book darker still than I had originally planned. There’s so much darkness in Hollywood–and it has always been there, from the very beginning. I certainly don’t ever have to worry about it being too dark, can I? Hollywood’s decay and rot and absolute cruelty in chewing people up and spitting them back out again, bereft of success and their soul hollowed, into the gutters of the Dream Factory (has anyone written a Disney Babylon book?). I read a lot of trashy Hollywood novels in the 1970s, and that was pretty much the entire thread-line to all of them; Hollywood is cold and cruel and will use you up–and is there anything more cruel than deliberately setting someone up to shatter their dreams?

I see our flash flood watch has been extended through tomorrow evening at seven pm, so that most likely means it will keep raining and there are thunderstorms on the way–and it is delightful for me. It sounds to me like there will be plenty of opportunities for me to get some reading done. I am also trying to decide whether or not to go make groceries or simply have them delivered; I don’t know what I am going to make for dinner tonight. Maybe shrimp scampi, or something like that? Shrimp tacos, maybe? I guess I need to put some thought into that a bit more, don’t I? Swedish meatballs is also a possibility. I think I’ll just let that thought simmer in my head until I subconsciously figure it out.

A friend mentioned one of my favorite books on social media this week (Thomas Thompson’s Celebrity), which I’ve not thought about in a very long time and am considering a reread, once I finish the reread of The Ivy Tree. It’s truly a splendid, well written and plotted book about three men, high achool friends who do something awful on Graduation Night and it haunts them as they get older and more famous as a writer, movie star, and cult leader; it’s rich and layered and sad and tragic and the men aren’t heroes you root for; they were deeply flawed men with complicated moralities–and one has to wonder how that tragic rainy night when they were eighteen shaped them into the flawed, complicated men they became. The movie star–Mack Crawford–had a very complicated sexuality, which should be my primary focus on the reread; how his sexual dysfunction and self-loathing also shaped who he was. Thompson also wrote one of my favorite true crime books of all time, Blood and Money–which I should also revisit.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines to drink some more coffee and spend some more time with my book, blanket, and cat puddle in my lap. I will be back tomorrow morning, so have a lovely day!

Panama City Beach, Florida

Don’t Fall in Love with a Dreamer

I slept late this morning (Sparky tried at 7:30 but failed) primarily, I think, because it rained all night and is still raining this morning. We’re in a flash flood watch, and it’s going to rain for sure the rest of the morning, which is lovely. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday, other than some chores and relaxing, which was wonderful–after I finished my work duties yesterday, of course. I didn’t read very much, either, but I did let my mind roam freestyle and I scribbled a lot of notes in my journal. I also have a newsletter to get out this weekend that I haven’t finished yet, either. Since it’s another gray, thunderstorm kind of day, I’m not sure how much I will actually get done today, either. But I do feel rested and good this morning, the apartment is in better shape than it was when I got up yesterday morning, and I did some serious chores. Tomorrow I’ll try to get up early again, and see how that day feels. I”m kind of liking this “at home, warm comfy and dry” feeling with the rain outside this morning, honestly.

Since it was raining yesterday, I assume, Entergy didn’t shut the power off after all; who knows now when they will do it. Heavy sigh. But I didn’t want to start writing or reading or watching something, only to have it turned off, so that is my reasoning for not really getting a lot done yesterday. I feel very rested this morning, though, so not doing much of anything yesterday plus oversleeping this morning clearly was the right choice and decision to be made. I can always, as you can see, rationalize anything.

I decided, as I waited for Paul to get home yesterday, to revisit episodes of the original Dark Shadows on Amazon Prime. It occurred to me that every time I think about, or start, a rewatch I always start at the beginning–with Victoria on the train for Collinsport, and the initial storylines…and that I didn’t remember any of the storylines on the show after the Barnabas origin story in the 1780s. They’ve sorted the episodes into seasons that have no bearing in the plots; they’re just kind of random. I did remember the storyline that is starting this season–the alternate time with the curse of Brutus Collins the lottery, and the deadly room the winner had to spend the night in–which drove them either mad or killed them. Kate Jackson (!!) is in this storyline as Bramwell’s (Jonathan Frid) wife. It was fun to while away some time revisiting Dark Shadows in its original form. We also watched the new Keanu Reeves movie, Outcome, and while it was an interesting watch, the movie was completely stolen by Susan Lucci, playing his mother who was also a Real Housewives of Beverly Hills cast member. Paul and I laughed all the way through her scene.

Not sure what today is going to be like, honestly. The rain is so relaxing, it’s perfect for getting under a blanket and reading in my easy chair all day, which sounds like an absolute winner. There’s also a lot for me to do as far as blogging and working on newsletters and working on the computer files. I should probably also do organizing of the work space, which is never a waste of time.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and go read for a while. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

Country Sunshine

You say you love me, and it’s inviting…to go where life is more exciting…but I was raised on country sunshine!

I wasn’t, of course, but those summer vacations to Alabama definitely shaped a lot of who I am, I think. I tend to think about it far more than I think about Chicago or our suburb or Kansas or California, or anywhere else I’ve lived besides New Orleans. It is where we are from, I suppose, and having grown up listening to stories–family stories, mostly–I am not sure what is actually true and what I invented in my imagination. Sometimes I think, if I outlive Dad and Paul, that I might move back there to live out my days; but who knows? I have five years to worry about where I may be in five years. But my plan is, for now, to retire when I hit seventy. I am not going to count down the days (weeks, months, years) until then, because that seems to make the time pass even faster than it actually does–which at this point is pretty fucking fast, no lie. But I slept deeply and well last night, which is good. I was still a bit drained yesterday, which I didn’t realize until I posted and got up from my chair to start doing things…which ended up not going well. As soon as I sat down in my easy chair yesterday morning, Sparky curled up in my lap and went to sleep, purring. I thought, oh I’ll just watch another episode of Season 2 and then I could do some things. Sparky didn’t budge and I got sucked into the show, finally getting up to go to bed at almost ten! There really is no worse influence than a purring sleeping cat, is there?

Oh, well. Like I said, I felt drained all day yesterday, physically and mentally, so letting everything just rest with another day of not doing much worked, because I feel pretty good this morning. I feel like this week I’ll get back on track–a normal four days in the office and a work-at-home Friday again–and start getting used to getting up and going to work every day and doing things when I get home at night. I don’t feel like I’ll be terribly tired (one never knows) so I have to push through in the evenings after I am home and feed/acknowledge/pet Sparky.

So, no, despite big plans, I didn’t get much done this weekend. I didn’t even run errands! I just stayed at home quietly and pretty much rested, other than doing laundry all day Saturday. The apartment is still a disaster area, which I need to do something about this weekend; Paul’s knee replacement is a week from Friday, so I need to clear out some stuff and get the place as organized and easy to navigate as possible. I do worry a bit about the kitchen rugs and how Sparky likes to pull them up, creating rug speed bumps, which won’t be fun with a walker.

Our evil, corrupt bitch of an attorney general is planning some “big announcement” for New Orleans today; there’s a reason she is being recalled (fingers crossed!). My personal favorite of the rejected amendments was the rejection of the creation of a new school district for St. George, the wealthy sundown town suburb of Baton Rouge that seceded from Baton Rouge–and also wanted to pull its tax money out of East Baton Rouge–you know, so they wouldn’t have to pay to educate Black children (fuck the St. George racists from now till the end of time). That amendment was soundly trounced by the voters. Sucks to be a St. George racist. Thoughts and prayers, upper middle class pigs living in tacky McMansions.

God, I am sick to death of our current national politics. I was thinking this morning, as I shaved, how this nightmare is really never going to end. Even with MAGA dying, it’s like the hydra; it’ll just grow another head, like how Sarah Palin and her racist Tea Party shenanigans (don’t forget that bitch Ginny Thomas was a big part of it, either–future historians of this time will not be kind to either of them) morphed into this bullshit to begin with; an astro-turf movement fueled and encouraged by the propagandists at Fox and Newsmax. (You know, the vast right-wing conspiracy Hillary warned about in the early 1990s only to be mocked and derided….she was right then, too, just like she’s always been right.) The Trumpers who are turning on him now aren’t becoming progressive; they’ll line up behind the next grifter who tells them what they want to hear; there’s a direct line from Palin’s grift to Trump’s.

But we never want to talk about how the 2016 election was a replay of the 2000–the results of which got us Roberts and Alito. May Susan Sarandon burn in hell for all eternity, thanks again, “liberal” media.

It’s really no wonder I don’t want to write, because I don’t want the poison of these times to leak into my writing, which is one of my joys in life. But…I am going to give it a try again this week. I think being out of my rhythm the last two weeks has also had a lot to do with it.

Sigh.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and it’ll be tomorrow morning before you know it!

Wichita Lineman

I am a lineman for the county…

This song, today’s title, came up on social media (which is neither) recently–I’m not sure when–but it reminded me not only of the song, which I love, and Jimmy Webb wrote for Glen Campbell, but was covered by any number of other artists. Go figure, right? My parents took us to see Campbell in concert in Chicago when we were kids–Mom and Dad did a lot of fun stuff with us–and while I don’t remember much of it, I know we enjoyed it.

I’m on my second cup of coffee this morning and I still feel a bit tired this morning. It’s fine; I did manage to get some chores done yesterday around being in my easy chair and resting–I did the laundry including the bed linens–so yesterday wasn’t a total write-off. We started watching House of Ashur (Paul: “it’s soft core gay porn with violence and blood”) and Amadeus (not sure why it needed a retelling in a mini-series, but visually it’s stunning) and I also did a lot of The Traitors Canada, moving from Season One on to Season Two. I love that in Season 2 they clearly watched–and are completely unafraid to mention–the previous season as they make references to what happened. Karine Vanesse has long been a favorite of mine, too. Her looks are often bold choices that don’t always land, but if it was me hosting, I would go so over the top it would be insane. One day I would be a musketeer, another I would be Louis XIV, then a pirate and…you get the idea.

I woke up to the glorious news that all five constitutional amendments proposed by the governor and his lickspittle legislature tried to shove down our throats for whatever nefarious purposes; the only one that was remotely close was the one about teacher pay. Bill Cassidy was thoroughly rebuked by Louisiana Republicans, which makes it look as though Trump has a lot of power and pull still in Louisiana…although more Republicans voted for someone else other than Trump’s anointed. Julia Letlow did win the primary, but didn’t get a majority. So, we don’t really know if this result was because of the impeachment vote–or for being an actual doctor and voting to confirm RFK Jr, or some combination of both. MAGA can’t be counting on their votes coalescing behind Letlow, either, in the general. This is very good news, and cause for hope. The rejection of the amendments is a strong rebuke to an unpopular governor and an unpopular legislature, too–they made the huge mistake of coming for New Orleans on top of their sheer incompetence and corruption. So, the general election and the progress of the recall petitions are unknowns, which hasn’t been an issue here since–well, since a Black man became president and everyone got their Klan robes dry cleaned. I’m not in the least bit sorry to see the useless wind chime Cassidy gone.

This morning I’m feeling a little bit tired still from yesterday. When I finish this I am probably going to go read for a bit. My mind was tired yesterday, too, so I didn’t read or write at all yesterday, but you know, I did a lot on Friday and exerted myself a great deal. My newsletter, about Carol Goodman’s marvelous The Sonnet Lover, also went out as scheduled (you can read it here), which also pleased me to no end. I do have to get the next ones for the week ready. I really am enjoying these longer-form entries, but I sometimes worry that it’s overkill on top of the blog here, which I still try to do every day. It won’t stop me, of course–I always do as I please, which is kind of a nice way to live. I probably should have gotten medicated for anxiety much earlier–a few years of it has certainly turned my life and attitude towards it around. My garden of fucks grows more barren and fallow every day, and while the old “pick me pick me” desperation still comes out every once in a great while, I shrug it off with a “why do I care” thought. Because I don’t. I don’t care if people like me or not. I also don’t feel any disgrace for any behavior before that was anxiety-driven. My brain was wired wrong, and there’s no need to feel embarrassment or shame about it, either.

I’m still not used to being easy on myself, but I like it much better than the way things used to be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely one, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning. Till then!

Personal trainer and fitness influencer Dave Rich. Handsome face and flawless body, but the eyes make him stand out in a world of perfect bodies.

Passionate Kisses

Friday morning in the Lost Apartment after a very good night’s sleep,, and Sparky let me sleep another hour, which was delightful and felt fabulous. My dinner date is tonight–not last, as I had thought–so I have that to look forward to after a day of driving Paul from appointment to appointment and running some errands for him out in Metairie. (My reward is we’re stopping at Costco on the way back into New Orleans…I make it sound like we were are crossing the ocean deep, don’t I, rather than the fifteen or so minutes it takes for me to get there….it’s a New Orleans thing.) Tomorrow I need to go vote, and find out where the recall petition signing is for low-life scavenging scum skank Liz Murrill. (I have already signed the recall for the governor’s stupid ass.) I also need to drop books at the library sale, too, and swing by Fresh Market, so might as well do all of that tomorrow. I also am voting in the state election tomorrow, and planning to vote no on everything that is Janky Jeff’s agenda. I am actually feeling inspired by how many people are rallying here against the bastards in Baton Rouge. Maybe with some massive voter turnout for a change down here we can make the state better.

It wouldn’t take much.

The other day, when I was talking about New Orleans sinking, I did what so many people do–focused on what is going to happen to New Orleans only–when the entire state is sinking. The coastline keeps rapidly moving further and further inland, the barrier islands are mostly gone, and it affects the entire state. The loss of New Orleans tax revenue will certainly bankrupt Louisiana, but what will be left of the rest of the state as the Gulf continues to eat away at the coast and move north. This is a state crisis, not just a city one, but no one in Baton Rouge or Washington seems to give two shits. It really is astonishing how quickly this entire country has gone downhill, and everything eroded so rapidly. Again, I am glad I am closer to the end of my life than to the beginning, because there’s no telling what the fuck is going to happen in the next four years.

I was tired last night after work, and when I got home, I just sat in my chair and got caught up on the news before watching another episode of The Traitors Canada–which I am enjoying–and after Paul got home we watched the latest episode of The Boys, and I would imagine if they hadn’t already lost all their MAGA viewers, this week’s would do the trick. I am not really sure how an action adventure super-hero show that satirizes and critiques the current state of the country so blisteringly is airing on Amazon, the same production company that gave us the biggest bomb in documentary history, Melania. Obviously, no one has told Bezos or his lizard-wife about it.

I am hoping to have a good weekend. I am taking Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece with me this morning to read while Paul is being seen at his various appointments, and I am going to try to finish reading it this weekend. My next newsletter is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning, and so I also need to work on the next one, too. Then there’s all the cleaning and organizing I need to get done, too. Heavy heaving sigh. Just looking around this morning from my desk, the Lost Apartment looks like the wreck of the Hesperus. I do hate when I let things slide like this during the week, and I really need to just do the chores when I get home from work before relaxing a bit–I end up stuck in the chair with Sparky in my lap and nothing gets done. And I do need to be a lot more productive in the evenings, and resist the need to relax for a bit.

And on that note, this place ain’t gonna clean itself, is it? So I’d best head into the spice mines, and get this weekend started. I shall be back tomorrow morning, Constant Reader–see you then!

Very few pro wrestlers were built like this when I was growing up, or I would have watched a LOT more.

If I Die Young

It pleases me enormously that the “schedule post” function of the newsletter worked swimmingly and it went out yesterday at 12:30, just as I wanted it to. Sorry, you’ll have to forgive my cynicism about technology working the way it is supposed to, as I frequently find that to not be the case. But there it was, in my inbox, as planned, and yes, I felt very accomplished and smug and on top of things. It was something I started writing while in Alabama on the trip, after visiting cemeteries all day. You can read it by clicking here. (There are helpful subscribe buttons there, too, so you can make sure you never miss one.)

I was tired when I got home from work last night, running errands on the way home, and thus made a lap bed for Sparky for a few hours until Paul got home. I did watch another episode of The Traitors Canada, which I am enjoying watching so am doling them out one episode at a time. I am a bit tired this morning–great night’s sleep last night, just saying–but that’s to be expected after a busy day at the office yesterday and it is Thursday, after all; I’m always a bit tired as my days in the office for the week come to an end. I’m going to be driving all over the place tomorrow for doctors’ appointments, but am hoping to get some good rest this weekend and even maybe do some writing. Stop that crazy talk, right? But the apartment definitely needs to be cleaned and organized and made better for the aftermath of Paul’s knee replacement, which is coming up in two weeks. I have no idea what all that will entail–his recovery, that is–but I know he’ll be doing rehab for a while after. He’s going to have the other done later this summer, too. So, I will have quite a bit on my plate for a good while this summer, and having to be Paul’s nurse around everything else going on. Heavy heaving sigh.

The two Black women activists who launched the recall of Governor Janky have also launched a recall effort on our hideously evil Attorney General, Liz Murrill. GOOD, and as always, it’s the Black women who step up. Liz is currently threatening the Mayor and the city council with being “removed from office” because they are trying to appoint someone to the Clerk of Criminal Court position that the state removed after a wrongfully convicted Black man who served time for something he did NOT do and became a jailhouse attorney was elected. Well, the bigots in Baton Rouge weren’t about to have that voter-directed rebuke of the horrible system here in Louisiana or let it stand, so the fucks (all of whom hate New Orleans, a vital piece of the state economy) eliminated the position.

But yes, they are the true Patriots who looooove the Constitution. (Sarcasm implied.)

And the Christian hell isn’t horrible enough for these uneducated ass-wipes to spend eternity in. People here are pissed as fuck; I don’t think I’ve ever seen the electorate this enraged and activated here before. The recalls may not work–the racism runs deep with the mediocre here–but I am enjoying watching all of this unfold. I have signed both petitions, and you can bet your ass I am going to vote this Saturday, and I will cast each vote against whatever Janky Jeff wants–so you can kiss those constitutional amendments goodbye, shit-for-brains. He’s literally making Bobby Jindal look better–which I didn’t think was possible…actually, what I hoped was impossible. But we live in interesting times, don’t we?

Rex Reed died earlier this week, and is another one of those celebrities who frequently came to the Williams Festival. He never remembered who I was (we must have been introduced a dozen or more times), but he was always friendly and polite when we would inevitably be introduced again. He was a great panelist, and his stories about filming Myra Breckenridge were hilarious, once he got going. He loved nothing more than an audience, and always played it to the hilt. I read his collection of celebrity profiles Do You Sleep in the Nude? when I was a teenager, and everything else aside, he was a brilliant writer. His subjects often loathed the pieces he wrote on them, and him as well–but he had a reputation for showing them as humans, warts and all, not as gods from Olympus–and he could be quite bitchy. Despite not really understanding what it meant, I tagged him as a child as different–the same way I did Gore Vidal and Paul Lynde and Charles Nelson Reilly and Jim Nabors and Rock Hudson and Tony Randall and Joel Grey, which has always made me think like recognizes like as the real explanation of “gaydar” (and it doesn’t always work)–and I always enjoyed his bitchiness, even if sometimes it seemed like more of an effect than anything; this is what people expect from me so I have to give them what they want. He also had a great story about meeting Bette Davis in Baton Rouge as a teenager, too. He actually spent a lot of time in Louisiana growing up, and graduated from LSU. He aged really well, too. I felt a bit of a pang when I heard the news. I’d kind of like to read more of his work…I wonder if any of it is still in print or ebooks?

I am having dinner with a friend tonight, which I am also looking forward to very much…and that’s the note I shall close this entry on before heading into the spice mines. I will of course be back in the morning, so have a great day and I will talk at you then.

I used to buy candles here, a few blocks from my old office. I don’t know if it’s still there or not, but I loved this store. It always had such an interesting herbal smell.

Better Man

Tuesday and here I am again, up before dawn and swilling coffee while Sparky slurps down his breakfast. It rained yesterday, and when I went to work in the morning it was so muggy and hot I despair thinking about the summer. Termite season also opened last night but I didn’t see any, thank the Lord. Yesterday was a nice way of easing back into the day job, really; it was slightly busy but very laid back, which was cool. It rained most of the afternoon and was rather gloomy when I drove home from the office; Sparky was also very needy when I got home. I queued up season one of The Traitors Canada (all three seasons were loaded onto Peacock recently), and watched a couple of episodes before calling it a night. I also managed to finish writing a newsletter that I scheduled for Saturday, so that’s this week taken care of. Today’s goal is to answer all my emails that have been lurking in my inbox for a very lengthy time. Friday is a doctor appointments most of the day, and in Metairie at that, which means a Costco trip on the way home–it’s been quite a while since we went to Costco–and I am actually feeling less groggy this morning compared to yesterday. I also picked out my next read, which will go with me to the appointments on Friday, and I am really looking forward to starting it.

It was, as I mentioned, an easy transitional day yesterday, while today is more of a “back to normal” kind of day. The good news is I wasn’t tired when I got off work yesterday–but the combo of a needy cat and new seasons of The Traitors to watch was a one-two punch that guaranteed I simply could not resist the lure of my easy chair, which means I’ll have to do some chores tonight when I get home before either writing or relaxing for the evening. We’ll see how it goes, I suppose.

I slept really well last night, so feel pretty rested and good this morning. Since I got back from the trip I’ve really been sleeping incredibly well, which is great. Usually I am very fatigued and worn out after a trip, but this one wasn’t so bad–which might mean that my recovery from–well, everything is progressing nicely. I’m not used to being unwell or being severely injured or any of that nonsense. It’s not something I’m familiar with, and all the minor stuff over the years I kind of bounced back relatively quickly from, if I am recalling correctly, so being older when I had my first serious stuff happen was a double-shocker, and of course, the ulcerative colitis was working and weakening my immune system…which also delayed recovery time. It’s been a year since I was hospitalized, and that is the worst I have ever felt in my life. I never ever want to feel that sick again. Horrible, simply horrible.

Now that I’ve come up with a five-year-plan for my retirement (hurray!)–which is really my five year plan to prepare for it–I should probably get together a plan for what to write for the next five years and set some goals, too. Ideally, I would like to get everything finished that is already in progress, a daunting task to be certain, because there are so damned many. Right now, I want to finish what I am working on so I can write another Scotty to be out next year, and I also want to revise and rewrite Sorceress into something new–which I’ve already figured out. And the novellas…Christ on the cross. I’d also like to get some short stories out on submission as well; I have so many stories I’ve not finished that I could actually get worked on, finished and revised and sent out. I only have one story coming out in an anthology this year (more on that later), which was one of those unfinished stories; I want to have more next year.

Look at me, feeling ambitious again. Who am I, and what have I done with one Gregalicious?

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me! Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I shall be back on the morning tide tomorrow. Till then, stay fabulous!

Can you say HOT DADDY? Age truly is merely a number, isn’t it? I sure hope so, at any rate.

Another World

Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day…

And so today it is back to the office with me, lickety split. I slept well and had a nice, relaxing weekend, which was great. Yay! We shall see how my week goes, though, won’t we? I feel like I’ve not been in the office in months, while it was really only a week and I went in for a half-day on Friday, which wasn’t so bad. I also now kind of/sort of have a plan for the next five years–subject to change at any moment, natch–which is a good thing. I haven’t made a plan since Katrina blew my last one to smithereens, for obvious reasons, but if your plan is flexible and adaptable to change, there’s no reason not to have one, you know? Five years isn’t such a long time, either.

Imagine my joy and delight when making groceries the other day to discover they had Creole tomatoes back in stock, so they must be coming back into season and to that I say, huzzah! I love them! They are the best tomatoes, and…you know, I’ve been wanting to make fried green tomatoes for a really long time now, and why not make them with green Creole tomatoes? How delicious would that be? I ate one yesterday with some mozzarella cheese balls and Italian salad dressing and it was heavenly.

I was also very pleased to finish and send out another newsletter on Saturday, writing about Alafair Burke’s marvelous The Note, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I also got the next week done and scheduled it to go out on noon, Wednesday, giving me five days to think about, write, and edit the next one. I kind of like this “getting ahead” of things; it makes more sense and relieves any pressure on me about blowing the weekly deadlines I’ve set for myself. Despite being easier on myself now, I still berate myself for missing deadlines.

Like I said, yesterday was chill. I had some groceries delivered via Instacart from Fresh Market (including my favorite jelly beans, which I need to stop eating), and I did some cleaning up and organizing around the house. I got caught up some more on the news (which was as horrible as I figured it would be; don’t even get me started on Janky Jeff’s KKKLan redistricting plan, bootlicker that he is), worked on a newsletter a bit, and we watched some more of our shows; we had another two episodes of Hacks before moving on to Widow’s Bay, which we are getting more into. It’s a bit of a slow burn, but the more we get into it the more curious we become.

While all this was going on I was paging through my copy of In Cold Blood, which remains one of my favorite books. Capote was so talented, I always think about how he wasted his abilities focusing on being a social climber and the gay pet to his swans, whenever I pick up the book and look through it again. I remember watching the film on television while we still lived in Chicago; I don’t remember much of it other than Robert Blake. I picked up a used copy at a second hand bookstore in the late 1970s while I was living in Kansas–it hit a little close to home, as you can imagine. I got another trade paperback copy after we moved to New Orleans, but I currently have a second edition signed hardcover that I bought off ebay for a ridiculously low price (maybe only the first editions have value, but a second edition–printed before the official release date–might be worth a bit. It doesn’t matter because I’ll never part with it). Capote’s description of the lonesomeness of the Kansas prairie and its sparsely populated counties that is probably the best I’ve read so far. It seems weird to consider a true crime novel about the brutal murders of a farm family a comfort read, but there you have it.

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

This is one of my favorite buildings in the Quarter, on the corner of Royal and Orleans.

I’ll Go To My Grave Loving You

Sunday morning and it’s Mother’s Day again; the third since my own passed away back in 2023. It’s hard to believe sometimes that it’s been that long, and other times it seems like an eternity. In fairness, Mom died right before my health collapsed for several years–there’s been a lot of shit happening since Valentine’s Day in 2023–so it’s not surprising that it can seem so long ago. This one isn’t as hard as the first one was, or even last year, which kind of bugs me a bit, as it seems like (to me anyway) it’s getting easier, and I wasn’t sure if that was actually okay or not. As Dad says, there’s no instruction manual for life to tell you how to behave or how you’re supposed to react to things like this so we all kind of just have to find our own way, I suppose. Dad will never get over it or used to it, and in a perverse kind of way that is a double-edged sword; I knew he loved Mom, and his misery breaks my heart–but at the same time his unhappiness (“I just don’t have fun anymore”) makes me love him all the more for loving Mom so much? Does that even make sense? What does that say about me as a person? Do I even want to know the answer to that question? Probably not. One of the reasons I do all these things with Dad is because I don’t want him to have to do it alone. How can something make you sad but make you love someone more? Someday it will make sense to me, I suppose, but I also know I kind of cling to him now that she’s gone. I mean, he really is all I have left besides my sister and Paul (and Sparky).

Sigh.

It’s sunny outside this morning, so I guess yesterday’s rain has passed. It was lovely yesterday, raining all day and gray and gloomy. I decided going to the library sale to drop off books could be postponed another week–who wants to lug boxes of books through a heavy rain? Not me, certainly. Instead, after getting some things done in the morning, I chose to repair to my easy chair where I stayed and finished reading Carol Goodman’s The Sonnet Lover (which was superb; more to come later), which was a lovely way to spend a rainy day–my chair, a blanket, a purring cat in my lap, and a good book; who could ask for a more relaxing way to spend the day? Not me. Once Paul was home from the gym and his trainer and some errands, we ordered Chinese for dinner and caught up on Euphoria, The Boys, and Hacks. We also started a new Apple series, Widow’s Bay, which has a very interesting tone and is itself actually pretty interesting. I thought it was a thriller series–it stars Matthew Rhys, whom we really enjoyed in The Beast in Me–but it’s about a cursed island with a deadly history and it appears to be waking up primarily because those on the island have seemed to have forgotten its horrible history? It’s also a bit funny, too–but we didn’t quite get it completely; I am intrigued and will continue watching; I am not sure if Paul will, so we may need to find something else to watch this evening.

I think I’m going to cook out today, actually, which means placing an order for delivery–I need meat for the grill, and I also have some chores to do this morning–I need to do the dishes and the kitchen floor–and I am hoping to do some writing and reading today. I’ve picked out my next read from the TBR pile, but I want to finish rereading Listen for the Whisperer and my Rick Brant juvenile series mystery before starting on something new. I have another newsletter to write or two–I am doing one about the cemeteries in Alabama, and another one about The Sonnet Lover–and I definitely want to do some fiction writing today as well. I kind of need to get my mind reset and rebooted to my day-to-day existence, too. I slept late again this morning, which was nice, but I had kind of hoped to wake up earlier than I did. Ah, well, no sense crying over spilt milk.

And now, on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get some more coffee, make some breakfast, and do come cleaning and organizing and a little bit of reading. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back again bright and early tomorrow morning. Till then, au revoir.