Category: childhood

Everybody

And somehow Saturday has rolled around yet again here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was nice; I had my meeting in the morning after sleeping a little late. I did my work at home duty and the laundry and other chores, ordered some groceries, and relaxed some. It was very nice, actually. I relaxed and cleaned and thought about my writing and what to do next with it. Paul went to the gym after he got home from work, and when he got back, we watched The Shards and Reacher–not realizing two episodes of each had dropped, so we have those to get back to along with more Furious. Paul will be out this afternoon, so I have some down time that I am not certain how to use just yet. I also slept later, finally giving in to Sparky’s entreaties and coming down to give him his breakfast, have my own small starter snack with my coffee, and figure out the rest of my day. I feel very relaxed, rested, and good this morning, which is wonderful. I have some chores to do this morning, so once I post this and also send out my newsletter (I finished revising and rewriting it yesterday evening), I’m going to get cleaned up and read for a bit.

I also have to have some things delivered, so I can make dinner today and tomorrow. We’re once again in a heat advisory (shocking, right?), so I am going to want to spend as little time as possible outdoors. And yes, it’s more evidence of the annual selective amnesia New Orleanians have about the heat and humidity in the summer; somehow we’re surprised every year with how hot it gets here. It always amuses me, and I catch myself doing it all the time.

The Saints’ pre-season games start tonight; Jacksonville comes to town. I’ve never understood the point to the pre-season, and no one’s ever been able to explain why it’s necessary to have one to me. Paul and I went to one at the Superdome before the pandemic, but it wasn’t very exciting, there weren’t many people there, and it’s hard to get vested in a game that doesn’t mean anything. But the season will be beginning for college and the pros soon, and I’m looking forward to both the Saints and LSU this year. LSU has a brutal schedule this year, and has a new coach and a new system. So, we’ll have a better idea of who they are going to be this year after the opener with Clemson in Tiger Stadium. I’ll probably rewatch some classic old LSU games–well, have them on in the background while I either read or write or clean–to start getting amped up for the season. I love college football!

I started watching The Burbs, which I am also enjoying; I love Keke Palmer and am enjoying the show so far. (Paul watched it while I was in Alabama last time, so I watch when I have some down time to relax and don’t feel like doomscrolling through Youtube news clips.) I watched the first episode the other night when Paul was late coming home, and I started the second yesterday.

Sorry to be so brief this morning, but don’t really have a lot to say or talk about this morning. This was my first Friday at home without having to deal with something–employee development day, the car, meeting, etc.–and so this is actually my first regular weekend in a while. I am going to put the dishes away and then reload the dishwasher, and then I am going to take my book and read for a little while. I feel terrific this morning, which is a lovely, lovely departure and I intend to enjoy the day no matter how it turns out.

So, on this note I will depart for the spice mines, and hope that you have the loveliest of Saturdays, Constant Reader, and I will be back with a full report in tomorrow morning.

I love New Orleans in the rain.

Open Your Heart

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah? Huzzah. I slept well again last night–I’m loving all this good sleep this week, seriously–and feel pretty good for a Thursday morning. MY morning is busy today at the office, but not so much this afternoon, so I can get caught up on paperwork and other odds and ends before I go home. I have to stop and make a small amount of groceries on my way home tonight, and then I can chill out. The new season of Reacher has started airing, and we should get some new episodes in other shows we are watching. I think when I get home tonight I am going to get caught up on reality television before Paul and I settle in for the evening with our shows.

I sent out a new newsletter out yesterday (you can click the blue to read it if you would like), about the book of essays on soap operas I recently finished reading and thoroughly enjoyed, Love in the Afternoon and the Evening! It felt good to get another one out–I really do need to answer emails–and I will probably do more newsletters about soaps and aspects of them I enjoyed (murder mysteries, hot guys, etc.) in the future. I need to get back to my essays about masculinity, don’t I? I really do need to sit down and map them out. I also want to finish that essay on gay v. queer. Maybe this weekend? I also want to write one to send out on my birthday next week, not that I have anything witty or wise to say about getting older. Surely, every thing has already been said, and better? Ah, well, that won’t stop me, will it? Not in the least.

The big news is that I finished Chapter Four last night! I wrote over a thousand words last night and polished it off; now I need to go back and make it more cohesive and smooth the continuity–I’m not editing for language or length (I will change some of that, though, I can’t help myself) this time through; it’s just easier to do this continuity shit now before the manuscript gets longer. It also dramatically improved my mood, too. It always feels so good when I have a good writing session! Work was okay yesterday, too–not very busy but just busy enough to make the day pass relatively quickly. The drive home was smooth and easy and frigidly aired1; I also did some chores last night as well as provided a lap for le Sparkster. Paul was late coming home from a board meeting, so we were on our own last night and he was needy, as always (Sparky, i mean). It was marvelous coming down to a clean kitchen this morning–you’d think I’d remember that and make sure I do that every morning, but…sigh. That’s not how I roll, clearly.

Two classic books from the 1970s were on-sale for their ebook editions this week and I got them both: Jaws and Audrey Rose. Both books were what we would call “viral” today; Jaws more so than Audrey Rose, which is a reincarnation story (which has always interested me; it makes more sense than spending eternity singing praises to God2). I didn’t get to go see movies a lot when I was a kid, and of course, before cable and streaming pretty much the only way to see old films was to catch them in their edited for television versions…so, if a movie was based on a book, I would just read the book. (Or the novelization, as I did with The Last of Sheila.) I read Jaws when it came out in paperback, and enjoyed it. Everyone was talking about the book, and it was a huge bestseller. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and even read more of Peter Benchley (The Deep is one I’d love to revisit). I didn’t know much about sharks other than what people would say when we’d be at the beach in Florida in the summer time (trivia note: two of my cousins were extras in Jaws II), so I, as always, looked them up in the World Book Encyclopedia and all the associated entries. We did see the movie when it was released; it was one of those “after church matinees” Mom used to take us to after a lunch at Ponderosa), and the theater was so crowded they had ushers finding seats for people. The only spot with three together was the exact center of the front row….

To watch a shark movie.

It was probably the most terrifying experience I had in a movie theater until some of the Washington Monument stunts in Spider-Man: Homecoming, during which I had to look away because the camera work was so good that it felt like I was on the monument, and yeah, no way, no how, no thanks.

Is Jaws considered a horror novel/film? I mean, it is a monster movie. Horror was certainly having a day in the 1970s, wasn’t it? (I use to call them occult books back then, because I didn’t know that horror was an actual genre until later in the decade, when the media began calling Stephen King a “horror novelist.”)

Audrey Rose isn’t as remembered, partly because the film wasn’t as good as Jaws and it didn’t become a cultural touchstone. It was a big book in the 1970s–I remember it even had commercial ads on television–and it was marketed as straight up horror but it kind of wasn’t. I don’t remember being scared by the book (which I barely remember), more that it was more haunting than anything else, sad and disturbing and melancholic. Anyway, I love reincarnation stories—which goes back to Dark Shadows, as so many things do in my tastes. It’ll be interesting to revisit it; I looked at the first page last night on my Kindle and saw that, yes, indeed–it has a haunting, Gothic sensibility to it, that I always enjoy.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning before I start my work-at-home duties. See you then!

Louisiana has the most spectacular sunsets
  1. It really is astonishing what having working air in the car makes. Honestly. ↩︎
  2. I do wonder how things went viral before the Internet. ↩︎

Love Makes the World Go Round

Sunday already? #madness. I am up early this morning after a good night’s sleep, and I feel pretty good. Yesterday wound up being one of those days where I didn’t do much of anything, and I am not one bit sorry about it, so there, LOL. I am not going to allow myself that luxury today, of course, and at least I should be able to get some reading and cleaning done. Or not. I had the television on, but don’t really remember a whole lot of yesterday and that’s also really fine. My time is my own, although I have some things starting to percolate. Another shared anthology is in the works (with Art Taylor and Donna Andrews for Jeffrey Marks’ Crippen & Landru Press), I have a short essay due by the end of the month, and of course, there’s always the book, the newsletter, and some short stories I want to write for upcoming submissions calls. I am trying to get back into the riding saddle again, but I have to be better about my time management, too. That’s the problem with a lot of free time; you can also wind up wasting time because you think you have plenty of it.

And you never do.

It was a bit gloomy when I got up this morning, but the sky has seemingly cleared. We may get some rain this afternoon, which would be nice and cooling. The temperatures have dropped to the low nineties/high eighties, which is more normal for summer in New Orleans, but I have no doubt we’ll get more blast-furnace heat by the end of the month; Labor Day weekend is always insanely hot and humid (which always made Southern Decadence more fun). But the summer is nearing its end (we won’t have cooler weather until October, but the humidity lessens some after Labor Day. A quick perusal of the weather channel and there is a disturbance out in the Atlantic, but no concerns for the moment. With my luck, it’ll probably come here and I’ll have to evacuate for my birthday. (It was my birthday the weekend before Katrina.) No sense borrowing trouble, as my mother used to say–which was funny, given she had generalized anxiety disorder and thus worried about everything,

Everything she could control, at any rate.

It’s kind of nice having my own dialed back to something manageable, seriously.

I am feeling both lazy and productive at the same time this morning. I need to eat something and get some more coffee, for one thing. I’ve got my journal right here with me, and I keep pausing to take notes. I also have The Last House on Needless Street here with me that I can dip into every once in a while, along with my reread of Celebrity. I have two newsletters I can get finished and out soon, and there are also a couple of others I am still working on. There’s always something for me to write, isn’t there? But one thing I definitely want to do this morning is organize the submission calls that I want to try to write something for as well–organizing is something I always enjoy, and it helps when you can look at everything in one single solitary place. I have finally accepted that my once sharp memory is now a thing of the past, and frequently am amazed at what I have forgotten.

I was thinking about this while reading another chapter of Needless Street, and about how wrong so many of my memories of Alabama have so often proven to be…this bothered me quite a bit, since I’ve visited the home county more times in the last four years than I have in the last forty. It bugged me mostly because I have written fiction set there in a fictionalized version based on memory, and if the memories are incorrect…(the reason is it–the book– reminds me of something similar I have been working on for the last decade or so; my own creepy house down the street in a small town and horrors from the past. This morning, the anvil dropped on my head. Fictional version are the keywords here; it’s based on, not an actual representation of the county. I swear to God, I wish I weren’t so literal and stubborn and oblivious, you know? Sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off were I not that way; look at the difference dialing back the anxiety has made. Things to think about and consider, at any rate.

So Miss North Carolina was dethroned this week, so naturally the bitch tried to make it about religious persecution, so she could go the Riley Gaines route in conservative media…and then the pageant released the racist posts where she freely threw around the n word. Sit your racist ass down, skank, and have a folding chair. The “asshole whiner to conservative darling” grift is an entire thing, and always so sadly predictable. Your faith made you a racist piece of shit, did it? Have fun explaining that to your God before he sends you to hell, bitch. And how awesome is it that the title now passes on to a Black woman? Chef’s kiss, no notes–although to be honest, I wasn’t aware that beauty pageants, er scholarship contests, were still a thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Sunday, y’all. I’ll be back in the morning.

I cannot believe I’ve never written a Scotty with a chase scene across balconies in the Quarter.

Love Without Words

Saturday, August 1, and coniglio! Coniglio!

Let’s see if that works; it did for Trixie Belden in The Mystery of the Emeralds.

It’s Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment. Sparky got me up before seven this morning–His Majesty was HUNGRY–and I decided to get up and feed him. Once I was out of the bed, I decided to get cleaned up and get going on my day. Yesterday sucked–I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say the a/c in my car still isn’t working and I need to take it to another place first because some “body work” needs to be done, and it really doesn’t sound cheap–but I am shaking it off today. I’ve never had to spend much money on this car since buying it and it’s been about ten years. So, let it go, I can’t do anything about it until Monday, anyway, and why let that spoil my weekend when I have free time, I still feel good, and tomorrow we’re going to go see the new Spider-Man movie. So, lots to look forward to, and today I am going to try to get some stuff done around here. I need to order groceries for delivery (too hot to drive there and back), and I need to get the house back under control again. It’s not that bad, but the last couple of days I’ve let things slide a bit. I did read some of my book yesterday, and it’s really fantastic. We caught this week’s Sugar, and I think tonight we’ll dive into The Vampire Lestat.

I also have those Emily Wilson translations to dip into, as well. And a newsletter to get out, but them not going out consistently has been an issue from the first, and I do suspect the only person I am actually disappointing with any of this is me, you know? But they are fun to write, and while I do forget things I wanted to say in them from time to time, and I don’t proof them as thoroughly as I should before they go out, but I am also not going to get anxious or stressed about them. Paul is going to work with his trainer today and then is going to ride the bike at the gym, so I should have the entire afternoon to myself for downtime, reading and writing and more cleaning. Why is there always more cleaning to do? Heavy heaving sigh. I did decide to treat myself to a long birthday weekend this month, so I have my birthday and the Friday after to accept that I am officially elderly. It doesn’t bother me (much); it’s more shocking to me that I made it this far, with so much stacked against me. Making it to 65 as a gay man in this country was no small accomplishment, but honestly? Pure damn luck. I made it through the HIV pandemic without getting infected–miracle of miracles, especially when it seemed so damned unlikely any of us would make it through with anything other than PTSD and guilt. (The guilt has always been tough for me to deal with–why me? Why did so many wonderful and talented and brilliant people die? And yes, I’ve been thinking about this since the circus the other day with Dr. Fauci, whose true crime to conservatives is that he helped stop gay men from dying.)

Maybe I do see homophobia everywhere, but you know what? That’s what it almost always is–enough times that it’s not a surprise when that does turn out to be the case.

It also pleases me to no end to see Tom Holland and Zendaya starring in the two biggest movies of the summer. I’ve always liked her, and of course, his lip-sync to Rihanna made me a life long fan of our short king. He is also one of the rare examples of a child star who grew up into a successful and always working adult actor/star.

I was also amused to see the Department of Justice and that pig Jeannine Pirro had to drop charges against “reflecting pool vandals” when it turned out to be a result of shoddy installation on a (surprise!) a no-bid contract for one of the Harkonnens’ friends? Everything the Baron said about the reflecting pool was a lie (as everyone with a brain and one working eye could see), and his minions jumped in line–against all reason, against all sanity, and above all else, against the Constitution–to snap to his insane logic and mentality and excuses. His supporters should never be allowed in public again without being shamed for the bootlicking quislings they are. (I laugh every time they call him “Daddy”–showing they are all fucking betas and will roll over, ass end up in the air ready for his penetration) Karoline Leavitt and Jeannine Pirro will go on to jobs at Fox, next to Sophie “Maga Skipper” (Barbie would never) Cunningham.

And when this is finally all over? Watch the centrist Dems try to close the book and “move on.” We saw this after the Bush Crime Syndicate left office in 2009, and way back when the Republicans sold out southern Blacks for political power. (They haven’t changed from what they became under Grant.)

What this country has allowed itself to become makes me appreciate that I am old, and I do not ever wish I were younger. Ever. And I wouldn’t go back in time even if I could.

And on that note, I am going to get some more coffee and take my book over to my easy chair. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

I’ve always loved stained glass. I played with it as a hobby in my twenties, but could never ever dream of doing something so artistic.

Everything

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I have to take the car over to the dealership across the river tomorrow morning, but hope to have a nice productive day once I get home from that. I intend to stay inside the cool house as much as possible. I feel rested and good this morning–my Achilles tendons are making their presence known again, but nothing unbearable, just noticeable. I slept really well last night, which is nice, and the heat is breaking at last; now we’re just in a heat advisory, rather than an extreme heat watch. I parked my car in the garage at work yesterday, so the drive home was bearable yesterday. I picked up the mail, got my copy of All Aboard for Murder by Ellen Byron, and made a little groceries. I did do some chores last night–cleaned out the sink and ran the dishwasher overnight–and did some picking up. We watched another episode of Ride or Die, which we are loving, and I went to bed. And it looks like we may get some rain this weekend, which would be marvelous; there’s nothing like New Orleans after a cooling summer downpour.

Something occurred yesterday on Facebook that hasn’t happened in quite a while; someone from one of my past eras (thanks, Taylor, for that name) appeared on my feed extolling ignorant MAGA talking points about Dr. Fauci and his testimony yesterday and of course, the people in his life were all there replying (viciously) in agreement in his comments. While I was tempted to ask, did you go back to school and get either a medical or epidemiology degree I chose instead to block him. It was also a reminder that over the years I’ve accepted friend requests from people out of a previous era mostly out of curiosity, more than anything else. I’ve also accepted friend requests from strangers since I started an account there during the Bush administration (yikes). Sometimes I get requests from names that sound familiar and I can’t place either the name or the face, so I don’t know how I know them or just that they have a familiar-sounding name. The person yesterday popped up on my feed out of nowhere, and was one of those I know I know you but don’t remember much about you which usually is an indication that, well, you’re not someone that made a deep impression on me nor do I care about you or your opinions. I saw the post, blocked the person, and then–because it hadn’t happened in so long–I posted about it blocking MAGA’s from my past. (Is anyone surprised that guys from my fraternity support an adjudicated rapist? And yes, that means exactly what you think it means.) Anyway, someone replied to my post with “Add me to the list” which was both annoying–you lazy MAGA fuck, you won’t block me?–and hilarious at the same time. Dude, I have no fucking idea who you are. Your name sounds familiar but that’s it, and do you honestly think I care what a rando MAGA piece of shit thinks? The arrogance! Like it’s some great pleasure for me to be friends with you on social media when I don’t even know who you are? For the record, MAGA is a cult with a plank for homophobia. Every single time you vote, you vote to have my rights as an American stripped away. And you think we should be friends? Fuck all the way off, and then fuck off some more.

And my wall isn’t an airport–no need to announce your departure. Have the life you voted for. I mean that with all of my heart.

For the record, the tolerant left is another Fox News lie. My tolerance went away during the HIV/AIDS pandemic–remember? “It’s killing all the right people”? If you’re looking for tolerance of your abhorrent beliefs that also mean you consider me less than human, you’re knocking on the wrong door, boo. Look for the house with the swastikas MAGA signs.

Recently, someone promoting his business, natch,did a light show on the Lalaurie mansion–without permission from either the owners or the Vieux Carre Commission. It was in incredibly poor taste–I’ve always thought it being a tourist attraction was exploitative, given the house’s horrific history, and what Delphine LaLaurie did to enslaved people shouldn’t be a folk legend told in whispers and intended to give a cheap thrill. People were tortured, maimed, and murdered there; the amount of suffering is unimaginable, and surely its in poor taste and exploitative to market that horrific past. If any piece of ground in this city is haunted, surely that lot would be it. I have always wanted to write about the Lalaurie House, but I wouldn’t want to do it in an exploitative kind of way, which I am not sure is even possible. Over a decade ago, a friend who is a horror writer suggested I should do a short story collection called Monsters of New Orleans; how could such a book be possible without including Delphine the demon? Maybe someday.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow before (or after) my trip to the West Bank.

Ben Pierce also does excellent Louisiana photography, and I love this shot of a foot bridge in the Atchafalaya Swamp–very evocative, and an excellent writing prop

School

Oddly enough, this past weekend I was thinking about my experiences in school (while being a little taken aback by how long ago I graduated high school; two years will be the fiftieth anniversary of that). Public school was unpleasant for me after we moved to the suburbs (it was fine when we lived in the city), and I always figured the other kids somehow figured out that I was gay and bullied me until we moved to Kansas, where I had one good year before it started up again. How do they always know? What I actually didn’t know was that my sister (and why wouldn’t she have told him, or my mother?) told my father (in the wake of Mom’s death) that I was bullied pretty badly. Dad brought it up at some recently (I think during the May trip) , but he had an entirely different perspective and one that had never occurred to me before; “you were so much younger than everyone. Not only should we not have let you skip a grade, we should have held you out a year.”

Wow. Wasn’t prepared for that massive paradigm shift in my head canon. I also recently read a post from someone who, like me, had been bullied for being gay in high school, only to have one of his bullies reach out to reconnect like nothing had ever happened…which is also something similar to my experience; people I went to high school with are stunned that I remember being bullied and don’t have good memories. ‘But everyone loved you!” they always say, and I am always taken aback by their reaction. Is it…is it possible that calling me a fag was just…teasing and didn’t mean anything more? And I can remember, actually, hearing them call other guys that, too–an insult and a joke…so were they really just teasing me, considering me one of the guys? Did it sting so badly and horribly because it was true, and they didn’t know? And of course, given my brain chemistry issues…

And yes, I was sixteen when I graduated from high school. I was almost three years younger than some of the kids in my graduating class.

I will have to explore this in an essay at some point. Two or three years in teenager is a fucking lot. And it seems like my sixties are my decade for reflecting on the past.

But it’s Tuesday, I am awake and drinking coffee, Sparky is being annoying because he wants attention and my body doesn’t feel quite awake yet. The heat warning is going through the weekend (!!!) so again, probably going to try to stay inside as much as possible. There’s only a month left of this extreme heat…yay? There were some systems out there they were watching for potential hurricane development, but this morning’s check of the NOAA web page shows nothing of interest, which is different from the last time I looked at that map. But the local weather also shows nothing to watch out there, so I guess those systems disbursed? Not sure how to feel about that and whether to trust it or not, but….nothing to worry about is nothing to pay attention to. Our garbage disposal also–per our landlady–has a clogged filter so my kitchen sink spigots don’t let any water through. This started on Sunday, but Sam the handyman wasn’t around yesterday, but he’s out there this morning so I will tell him on my way out to the office and hopefully, tonight I can do the dishes. Yesterday was very miserably hot, so much so that the a/c in the car never blew cool. I was concerned–it needs freon, I think, so Friday morning I’ll have to drive over to the West Bank (due for oil change, too) and get that looked at–there’s no way I can survive a summer here without functional a/c in the car.

We are all caught up on House of the Dragon, and watched another Ride or Die. I was glad to see Sir Criston die horribly and dishonorably; personally I loved that he challenged his foes to a duel only to get an arrow in the chest in response. It also made me think of an allegory last night, as Rhaenyra and Daemon continued to make mistakes and fail at ruling; it’s much easier to capture a throne than it is to govern, as the Republicans remind us over and over. The only thing they are actually good at is being an opposition party. Democrats are shitty at opposition but good at governing for the most part. Isn’t that always the way? Westeros is descending into chaos again–and chaos, as we remember from Littlefinger, is a ladder.

Yesterday was a kind of weird one, honestly. I did feel off all day, not really sure what that was all about, but I also managed to get current on everything. I did some writing yesterday, too, but not much but it was something, a couple of hundred words, but it was some progress and every word is one word closer to having a completed first draft. I am coming straight home from work tonight, and if the sink is working I’ll do the dishes, and then I am going to reread what I already have done and make notes–I already have some for Chapter One–and hopefully this weekend I will be able to get more written, since I’ll be camped out inside the house all weekend. The house is a very lovely cool oasis from the heat and humidity. Oh! I also figured out some more Scotty things! Which makes me happy, you have no idea. I was beginning to think Scotty was gone from me now…horrors!

And on that thought, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you again tomorrow.

@DavidFlorentine also does excellent New Orleans photography. Follow him on social media! I love this moody sunrise shot of Pirate’s Alley.

My Sins Are My Savior

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well thus far. I am having a very nice weekend, and I do hope you are having one as well, Constant Reader. I’m hoping for another good day today. I’m not sure what Paul’s plans are for the day, but mine will include finding something new to watch, since we finished Cross yesterday. I am tempted, of course, to start The Vampire Lestat but I’d rather wait to watch it until it’s all finished airing. (I’ve always been a bit of an Anne Rice fan-boy, and her connection to New Orleans was one of the things that originally made me think about living here, after reading The Witching Hour, which I should also revisit sometime.) I quite enjoyed Interview with the Vampire, and I might need to revisit those two seasons as well. I just saw yesterday there will be s fourth season, aptly titled The Queen of the Damned, so maybe the entire series will be filmed for television, which would be kind of cool; I did enjoy some of the later books, too. I also like this cast a lot. Anyway, how could I have forgotten Ride or Die? Clearly that would be the best option for our next watch. Octavia Butler and Hannah Wasddingham? Sign me the fuck up.There’s also another film streaming now that I want to see.

I had some groceries delivered, and made baked potatoes for dinner–so delicious with Kerrygold butter, cheddar cheese, fresh ground black pepper, and Maldon salt, with bacon bits and some chives. We’re both trying to eat not only healthier food but smaller portions as well to take off some weight. I bought a new pair of jeans at Costco on Friday (yes, that’s me, the gay fashion plate), and I’d like to get back down to two hundred pounds again, which I think is do-able. Paul worked out with his trainer and then went to the gym to ride the bike for a few hours. Sparky was cuddly and wanted my lap, and I really wanted to finish reading my book…so I put on the 2022 Alabama-LSU game on Youtube while I read and did some things. I finished the laundry and put away the dishes, ordered some groceries to be delivered, and had a very good day overall, despite the late start. When that game finished I put on 2019 LSU-Florida (which we were actually in the stadium for; it was one of my favorite games I’ve attended–the weather was perfect, the game was lit, and the crowd was on fire).

I actually came up with a working title for the new Scotty as well as the opening to the prologue, and the opening of Chapter One as well–and since I also have the disparate threads of plots decided upon, just not how to really tie them all together as of yet; I thought that was some excellent work on a day where I felt like I was being lazy, to be honest. I’ve been writing in my easy chair on the MacBook Air, and I’m getting more and more used to writing on it, so I have less excuses for not writing, which is a good thing.

I also wrote and sent out a new newsletter, which you can read by clicking here! This time out I talk about Lev AC Rosen’s Rough Pages, which I finished yesterday and absolutely loved. I think I am going to reread Larry Kramer’s Faggots next, along with getting back to my reread of The Ivy Tree and I think my next new read will be either Wanda Morris’ latest, or maybe something neither gay nor crime, but will pick out a few today to choose from; I do have so many marvelous books I have yet to read. I ordered copies of Emily Wilson’s translations of The Odyssey and The Iliad, and may get around to the Aeneid, too; it’s been a long ass time and my perspective has shiufted since then. There’s also Celebrity, which a friend reminded me of lately, and I had been thinking about writing about because one of the three main characters is a deeply closted gay man who is also a major movie star–and what I remember about how his sexuality was depicted is, well, pitiful. the life he was living wasn’t enviable, and was actually horrifically sad. I’d like to reread it, not only to reexamine Mack’s depiction but how the book was structured, which I have always felt was intricately built so would like to deconstruct it some.

We also watched Masters of the Universe last night. Nicholas Galitzine looks pretty (despite the lack of fur bikini) and Dolph Lundgren (whio played him in the last live action movie) had a cameo close to the beginning. Despite being visually beautiful and cinematic, as well as clever and funny at times, but the story’s not great; it’s a cartoon story that doesn’t really translate well into a live action big budget film. Masters of the Universe was always an infomercial for toys rather than an actual show, and not much creative thought went into it–He-Man? Skeletor? Evilynn? Sorceress? I remember the Saturday morning cartoon was popular while I worked at Toys R Us. I fucking hated working that aisle, and how stupid I thought the kids who were into it had to be to not recognize how basic and simple everything was. They need so little creativity for their entertainments? I saw the original film in the theater, with Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella, with a very young Courtney Cox (fresh off that Bruce Springsteen video) and her love interest was the guy who’d played Charlie Brent on All My Children (with Lauren Holly as his love interest, no less–Pine Valley had some very good young talent pass through for teen drama storylines). The movie was fun, but Dolph’s cloak concealed his fur bikini too much for my taste. It was fun and silly and not anything I ever needed to watch again…and I feel the same way about this version. Just empty calories, but there’s nothing wrong with that either. There’s also a strong 1980 Flash Gordon aesthetic I appreciate to the movie–there was even a point where Paul started singing “FLASH! Ah ah, savior of the universe!” and I had been literally thinking the same thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will do the same here in New Orleans. See you tomorrow morning!

The ruins of Fort Livingston on Grand Terre Island; another evocative writing-prompt image!

Bring Your Love

Here we are on Wednesday morning with a tropical storm heading this way, and no one seems to know what kind of impact it will have on the city. I know we are in a heat advisory with “feels like” temperatures up to 1171 (!!!) at some point this afternoon. We’re definitely going to have some intense wind, some rain (potentially 2 to 4 inches) with the possibility of street flooding, but should be all over by tomorrow, I think. It changes almost hourly, which is part and parcel of living along the Gulf Coast. AH, well, I guess we’ll see how it goes. There’s also no need for me to check on work stuff; since the impact, if any, isn’t due until this afternoon there’s no chance the office is closing for the day; at best, we’ll go in for the morning and be sent home in the afternoon. I’d rather that not be the case; I’d rather have a normal day as my body is getting used to my regular routine again. I slept pretty well and actually feel pretty good this morning, which is also pretty cool. I was pretty tired when I got home last night–but I’ve also noticed the days at work go by a lot faster than they used to; I was doing some of my work yesterday afternoon only to be startled to look up and see that it was almost four! The car was also insanely hot inside when I got off work, which didn’t encourage me to stop on the way home to make groceries. (I did not do this errand, because the heat drained everything out of me, and I couldn’t face carrying in the groceries in the heat.)

I did work on an essay yesterday for the newsletter, but I want to edit it again before posting it. It’s an important subject, and I want to be certain that my argument is cohesive and logical, and that it doesn’t bounce around all over the place, as I tend to be with my writing of personal non-fiction. I’ve not sent out a newsletter in well over several weeks or so (not that anyone is pounding down my door, desperate to get the next one in their inbox), and I should send one out for the sake of consistency, at any rate. Heavy sigh.

Sigh. Maybe there’s another one in drafts I can complete easily and get sent out, and I can save the other for this weekend when I can work on it leisurely and not feel rushed. I’ll add that to today’s to-do list.

I’ve been actually enjoying all the on-line discourse on The Odyssey (while obviously avoiding anything right-wing oriented, because they’ll hate it without even seeing it), and as I said yesterday, I definitely am thinking about getting the Emily Wilson translations of the three epic poems that are Troy related; can it hurt to revisit them again as an adult? When I originally read them (and other Greek mythology) I didn’t know what rape was; I thought it meant abduction2—they kidnapped the women. Later on, when I learned the true definition of rape, I realized just how rapey Greek myth was, and I didn’t want to revisit them , plus the conflict between the classical definition of hero versus the modern-day one (like the definition of romance in literature has also dramatically changed) was jarring. Now, at my advanced age, the rape stuff will still bug me, but I also understand what their mythology was really about much more so now than I did at that age.

Storm update: Bertha is now projected to pass to the south of New Orleans, but we’re going to get some rain this afternoon/early evening. Whew.

And on that relief note, I am going to head into the spice mines and head to work. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow. Stay safe, and stay vigilant!

The Taleon Imperial Hotel, St. Petersburg, Russia
  1. I told Paul to work at home today, because there’s no need for him to go out into this heat we’re going to experience. ↩︎
  2. I think this came from seeing a painting called The Rape of the Sabine Women, depicting the Trojan exiles carrying off the women, in the copy of Virgil that I read. ↩︎

Danceteria

And here I am, on Monday morning again, yawning and swilling coffee before I get ready for work. We’re busy this week, so I am going to be drained and tired when I come home from work every day this week. That’s fine, really. I had a most lovely weekend to begin with. I spent a lot of time just resting and relaxing, but I did get some things done. I’m not used to having so little hanging over my head that I have this much free time, and I have to say that I kind of love having time to just decompress and chill while still being able to get some things done.

We’re in a heat advisory again, and there’s a storm forming in the gulf–Bertha–projected to most likely come this way and pass over New Orleans, but it’s potential for strengthening beyond tropical storm (still not something to sneeze at, just means we don’t have to evacuate) is not very strong and we should start feeling effects of this on Tuesday, supposedly. This means we’ll probably get heavy rains this week, possible flooding, and the potentiality of losing power. I also need to check out what’s going on with the fecal infected vegetable products as I need to stop at the store and make some groceries on the way home; although I did see the FDA was coerced into walking back blaming Taylor Farms for this round of cyclospora. Thanks again, RFK and DOGE. Are we healthy again yet?

Sherlock Holmes, of all people, was on my mind this weekend for some reason I am not certain of; I think I was offered a ridiculously low ebook price for The Hound of the Baskervilles. I know I want to write an essay about not being a Sherlockian; I’ve always felt my lack of appreciation for Holmes was something shameful for someone who identifies primarily as a crime writer. When I wrote that historical story about a New Orleans-based Sherlock in 1916, I did read some of the short stories I hadn’t read before and enjoyed them, and Sherlock dances back into my head every once in a while, primarily because I’d like to revisit that time and write about it more. But does it have to be a Sherlock story? Why can’t I have a New Orleans-based world’s greatest detective? It’s an interesting time period, as Storyville still existed as did anti-Italian prejudice aka they’re all Mafia, where they lived in the lower Quarter. There are also all kinds of interesting cases in New Orleans history that could also go back to that time, too. I don’t feel like I know enough about Holmes to write more about him as a 1916 New Orleanian with a desire for male flesh….I also like the idea of writing about New Orleans when it was primarily accessible only by water. The 1915 hurricane after-effects would also be interesting to write about, especially since both St. Malo and Freniere were wiped off the map. I already have a Sherlock short story idea having to do with Freniere–but I’ve held off on writing it because I need to decide whether to base my character on Sherlock, and continue with him as I have already adapted him.

I also wonder if I should be writing about Sherlock.

Since Lisa Morton will occasionally urge me to write more horror (which is incredibly sweet, encouraging and supportive all at the same time) so I have been thinking about horror more these last few weeks or so. I have an idea for a horror novel that I am toying with currently, which could be a lot of fun to write–horror always is–but like the Sherlock thing, I’m not sure I have the background knowledge or the necessary steeping in the genre that I should have…then again, I always am very quick to point out my lack of formative knowledge in the crime genre (see: Sherlock Holmes), too, but I write it anyway. Horror always, surprisingly enough, turns my mind towards Alabama and the Florida panhandle and the Sierra Nevada mountains. I also came up with the opening for a new series I am interested in tackling this weekend, too…

I did work some on the book as well as a couple of short stories…and I also thought a lot about the next Scotty and what to make it about. I was going to go with January before parades start, with it opening as the boys watch the Krewe de Vieux parade pass beneath their balcony, but then I remembered the S&WB project that has the streets in the Quarter all torn up and thought, well, I’d need to look into the construction work and then started thinking about October/November; something to do with Halloween as the title anchor, and Hijinks as the third word, but I need something to go in between; I can’t use season because I just used that…maybe Halloween Pumpkin Hijinks? Maybe candy? Sigh.

I also hate that the World Cup is over and everyone is going home…but at least Spain beat Argentina (ETTD).

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

Erling Halaand, my World Cup crush

Lift ‘Em on Up

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I did stay in bed later this morning on purpose because it imply fet so marvelous. I had a small replacement fan delivered yesterday afternoon, and it ran all night and I didn’t wake up once, instead going into an incredibly deep and restful sleep for nearly ten hours! Yesterday was kind of a nice, low energy day around here. Paul is back to working with his trainer and going to the gym again, and so he was gone most of the afternoon. I slept later yesterday, and had a bit of a sleep hangover; I was back to feeling rested and not tired, but my batteries were a bit low. I ordered some things to have delivered, and picked up and organized whenever Sparky wasn’t insistent on my lap for hugs and cuddles and naps, which was also nice. Relaxing is always important for both physical and mental health, and my stamina is getting better. I did get a fan delivered yesterday, to make sure I had both the breeze and noise while sleeping last night. I didn’t read any of my book, but I read some of my work in progress, which counts, doesn’t it? I think this morning I’ll read some of the book I’m reading, which I am enjoying. It’s nice to wake up feeling rested and good.

I’m also late with the newsletters, which I am blaming on being “off” all week. I did do some writing this past week, but not much, and I am definitely behind on everything I am working on. It’s a shame that the response I am writing to that little gatekeeping shit who wrote that op-ed for the New York Slimes recently, trying to restrict the community to those he feels “truly belong” as opposed to, how did he say it? Straight kids trying to be cool? I was very angry when I started writing it, but am glad I waited and let it sit, so I can be very cold and factual as I dismantle his bigoted (and hardly Christian) argument.

Honestly, I had no interest in seeing The Odyssey , and it had nothing to do with it being “woke.” (Which didn’t seem to hurt its opening weekend ticket sales). It’s more along the lines that I’ve always thought Odysseus was kind of a dick; Greek “heroes” aren’t really heroic in the modern sense (the Hero’s Journey is the protagonist’s journey, just like romance originally meant something different than it does now, as did mystery); which always confused me when I was fascinated by the Trojan War (I’ve always wanted to write about Troy) and Greek mythology. Heracles was most certainly not a hero in the sense that the modern American definition thinks of as heroic–and while some of his monstrous behavior could be excused away as acts of the gods, not all of them were because of Hera or some other Olympian with a grudge. (I’ve also wanted to write about Heracles since I was a kid.)

Since I was on low-energy mode yesterday, we did watch Sugar, and a couple of episodes of Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, which really needs to ditch the soapy time travel melodrama of the cast of characters and more on the monsters, which is why we are watching. Godzilla finally has shown up–it’s funny how these same monsters traumatized me as a child, watching Creature Features on the television, giving me bad dreams for weeks after seeing one, and now I love them–which was vastly overdue. The problem with the focus on the melodrama always makes me zone out a bit, which means I miss key things about the monsters by the same team who are also studying the monsters and predicting patterns of behavior and movement–and also where they come from, hence the time travel melodrama. Sugar? No notes. Colin Farrell is fantastic, and the show is well done and well written and extremely clever.

I have to order some things for delivery today or tomorrow; I haven’t decided. I ordered things yesterday so I didn’t have to leave the house, since we were in a d (“feels like 110!”) so I decided going to the gate to get things or out to the trash to dump garbage and the recycling was enough; the sun glaring off my windshield was blinding and I don’t want to think about how hot the car is on the inside. We’re in another heat advisory today, with the ‘feels like’ at about 112, hence ordering for delivery yet again.

The times in which we live, where Taco Bell has replaced the CDC and Waffle House the National Weather Service. Had someone told me this would be my senior years when I was even middle-aged I would have laughed so hard. An anti-vaxxer in charge of public health and food safety? Let’s remember, the agencies that would have worked on these things were gutted by DOGE, Elon, and his ketamine fueled college-age boys? Where are those little shits now? I know they aren’t behind bars where they belong.

There are two tropical messes trying to form in the upper Gulf, just off the coast, and it will of course affect us with some rain and possible flooding from Tuesday through the next weekend. Heavy sigh–but I am looking forward to the thunderstorm.

Pity about the Tates being arrested for raping and trafficking children. Hope they enjoy dying in prison.

And on that cheerful note–I approve of predators being arrested–I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the living room to read for a bit before getting cleaned up and heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be here again tomorrow morning. Till then!

This artwork is “The Tree of Forgiveness” (1881–1882) by English Pre-Raphaelite painter Sir Edward Burne-Jones. The painting depicts a scene from classical mythology, specifically the legend of Phyllis and Demophoön.
It illustrates the moment Phyllis, transformed into an almond tree, emerges from the bark to embrace her lover, Demophoön, who has returned filled with remorse. (If you ask me, he looks terrified and like he’s trying to escape. Maybe that’s the myth?)