Saturday morning, and I slept late. Yesterday was–well, I shouldn’t say wasted, but I spent most of the day dealing with the crisis that arose over the week and was thus unable to work at home, write, clean, or do much of anything. I started the laundry yesterday morning and wasn’t able to get back to it until we got home, and by then it was almost eight, so I was up until eleven finishing the bedding. I also managed to do some picking up around here in the morning before leaving the house, but there’s a lot still to be done. I have to empty the dishwasher and refill it to do another load and empty the sinks. The recycling needs to go out, and I still need to finish unpacking Paul from last weekend, and get that stuff out of the living room so I can get back to work on the floors. I need to write a lot this weekend; I need to edit and revise a short story for a deadline tomorrow. The house is a disaster area and that needs to be rectified today if it kills me (it won’t).
I did have the time to read some more ofEvan Hunter’s Last Summer, and I am slowly being sucked into the story, and there’s this dark sense of foreboding which is absolutely marvelous, stylistically. I am looking forward to finishing reading it today between chores and writing and things, and then I am going to read something a little heavier, I think. I really need to get back on the reading horse. I am going to clear out some books for the library sale today too, I think; I am feeling like I want my life to be more uncluttered, and I know I am. never going to read all these books I have on hand. I feel like the disappearance of my anxiety thanks to medications (it’s not completely gone, it will never be completely gone, but it doesn’t control me anymore) has also freed me from the need to be surrounded at home by piles and stacks of books that have overflowed out of the bookcases, which are also stuffed to capacity.
Sparky also wreaked havoc on the kitchen while we were gone yesterday, so I have to kind of put my workspace and the kitchen back together this morning, too. Heavy heaving sigh. I was exhausted when I got home last night, though–to give myself a little credit and not be so hard on myself. I’ve also not eaten a whole lot over the last couple of days, which is not a good thing physically even if it means I dropped a couple of pounds or so. I need to get back to the gym to do my exercises to keep strengthening my arm and shoulder, and gradually return to a normal workout for me. I definitely need to redo my to-do list for the week, and I also need to focus today. It would be ridiculously easy to just blow off the entire day today, but that isn’t in the cards–I can’t start my work week Monday this far behind on everything, as tempting as it is to just sit in my chair with my coffee and Last Summer this morning. For one thing, I slept late so got a late start on the day–and now my sleep schedule has been disrupted by going to bed so late last night and getting up late this morning.
Okay, this mess isn’t going to clean itself up anytime soon, so I am going to make this brief and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely be back later.
Friday morning and I’ve taken the day off. Yes, it was going to be a work-at-home Friday, but a personal crisis has interfered with my daily routine and I ended up having to take the day off. (I also had to leave work early yesterday, but I will save the tale of the personal crisis until it has passed, thank you for your understanding during this trying time; which of course leaves me in a quandary about what to write about this morning–so please bear with me.)
I did read some more of Evan Hunter’s Last Summer, and I am not sure what to make of it thus far. I think I read this book when I was a kid, but I’m not remembering it, and it’s similarities to Summer of ’42 (which would now be banned as a grooming novel/movie) may have confused me into thinking I’d read both. I don’t know that I’m enjoying it as much as I am supposed to as the reader; I do like the sparing style Hunter used to write the book, which reminds me of James M. Cain. I’ve also not read any of his Ed McBain novels, but those are considered classics in the subgenre of police procedurals; one of those holes in my education as a crime writer that I always deplore (the list is appallingly long and would contains authors that would both shock and scandalize you). I’ll keep reading the book, but it’s taking me longer than it should because I can only take bits of it to absorb at a time; there’s this marvelous sense of foreboding in the narrative voice that I am loving, and I am also trying to figure out how he manages to do that. (Every novel I read is an education of some sort, whether I’m enjoying or not. I no longer finish books I’m not enjoying–before I would do it as a puzzle for me–how would I write this better? That may seem arrogant, but it’s not. Just because I don’t enjoy a book doesn’t make it a bad book, it’s always a matter of personal taste.)
I also slept late this morning. I was exhausted when I tumbled into bed last night, and Sparky even slept with me in the bed, which he has started doing more often lately. I do like that; there’s something about a purring cat sleeping pressed up against you. I also woke up this morning to some rather lengthy bloody scratches on my hand. I went to bed just before ten thirty last night and woke up at nine, grateful I didn’t miss PT (which ended last Friday) or got a late start to my work-at-home day. I’ve got a very messy apartment to work on, and hopefully the crisis will pass today and things will return to some semblance of normal around here. I also need to get back on my writing horse, answer a shit ton of emails, and pick up the reins of my life again. I was sort of letting things slide this week while I was writing so much and so well, and now those chickens have come home to roost. Laundry to do and put away, dishes to put away, filing to do and floors to clean; it never ends for one Gregalicious. I was also kind of running on a low internal battery charge all week, which meant tiring early and being exhausted by the time I went to bed. (I always realize these things after the fact, but at least no longer berate myself for not being more productive.)
I’m going to sit here and finish this while enjoying my morning coffee. The coffee tastes really good this morning and I am going to need to eat something; I was so caught up yesterday in the crisis that I never did eat anything after breakfast, which isn’t good for me or anyone, really.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; one never can be sure about these things.
I did have a pretty good day yesterday; although I did start flagging a bit in the afternoon. I paid the bills, always depressing, and then stopped on the way home to make groceries and cleaned things up a bit around the apartment. I wrote last night and made some progress on the book–not enough, but it’s never enough–and also started working on another short story for a submissions call that I think’s deadline is next month sometime? It may even be later, one truly never knows unless one checks–and I really need to be better about putting deadlines for submission calls on my calendar. But that would make sense and be efficient!
You see where this is going, don’t you? Yes, I am starting to come out from under a bit, and yes, I am pretty pleased about it. My email inbox is down to almost nothing, and I’m starting to feel like my old self again–creative, with my mind zapping around in a million directions at all times, but now again able to zone in with extreme focus again when I need to. Whew. That’s quite a relief. I wasn’t terribly stressed; I just figured I’d have to figure out another way to push myself back into the writing somehow. I do wonder sometimes if not having stress and anxiety would become a problem for me in and of itself–but that is a vestige of the stress and anxiety, isn’t it? I’m so unused to this! I feel like I have so much more time than I did before, if that makes sense? My life has pared down in many ways, on every level, and I kind of like it like this. I like not getting worn out by the emotional rollercoaster of anxiety and all of its horrific side effects. I like being relaxed instead of tightly spooled. I like sleeping at night, and not being tired in the morning. I hated that feeling of drowning, not being able to keep up, and always falling further and further behind on everything.
I slept well again last night, which was great. I feel rested today, which is great, and my brain is actually functioning this morning. Let’s hope this is a good omen for the weekend, shall we? After I wrote last night, I did some cleaning around here and watched news clips on Youtube to catch up on what’s going on around the world. The Key Bridge collapse yesterday was a horrible event, and of course the right decided that it was somehow Pete Buttigieg’s fault that a container ship lost power and hit the bridge? Honestly, they are such garbage, and we’re lucky as a nation that we have someone compassionate, driven, and smart as Secretary of Transportation. After all, Maryland is a pretty consistent blue state, so why would they deserve any help from the White House had the coup attempt succeeded? We’d be living in a different country, for one thing, and we need to be sure that different country never happens. I think Dobbs and the Alabama Supreme Court decision on IVF were bridges too far for most Americans, as the special election in Alabama showed us this week. Women and men are PISSED OFF, and just because the media wants to keep shoving the right down our throats while undermining the left doesn’t mean a fucking thing. All the polling in Alabama was distinctly off, and it was a 35 point swing from the 2022 election. The Democrats need to keep hammering them on their discrimination and their contempt for women as anything other than brood mares; incubators for their children.
And how lovely would it be if a blue Congress codified the right to choose, the freedom to marry? The best fuck you ever to Alito and Thomas, the worst and most corrupt justices since Roger P. Taney. Congressional Republicans also exposed themselves by voting down IVF protections. And my guess is there will be another insurrection when Don Poorleone loses in November, count on it. The difference this time will be that the National Guard will be there in no-time, and if they kill more traitors like Ashli Babbitt, so be it.
And for the record, everyone involved in January 6th? We sent the Rosenbergs to the chair. Stop whining and do your time. You’re not patriots, you’re traitors. And for the record, conservatives in 1775 were Tories, i.e. were on the side of the British. Sorry you can’t read and aren’t capable of coherent, logical thought, but if you don’t know any history it’s probably best if you don’t bring it up. That’s why the Tea Party particularly infuriated me; they adopted an “iconic” Revolutionary War event, dressed themselves up that way, and called themselves “patriots”–for opposing the Affordable Care Act. In other words, they were calling themselves the modern-day equivalents of people protesting a massive corporate tax cut. What? That’s right, the tea tax was also a tax break for the East India Company, so they could sell tea in the American colonies more cheaply than American vendors, which also raised the question (again) of “taxation without representation.” The Affordable Care Act was definitely not taxation without representation–and the Tea Party was the root source of the MAGAts, and Sarah Palin was once its queen and shining star. Remember when we thought she was the worst the Republicans could inflict on the country? Ah, for the innocence of 2008 again; when grifting became a major player in American politics.
Heavy heaving sigh.
I have long been tired of the idea that the only real Americans live in the country and small towns, are Christians, and thus are the real patriots. Cities are the economic engines that drive the country, for the record. The point of our system is that we all cooperate together; the entire point of the government is compromise; not demand things all be your way and if you don’t get your way, you throw a tantrum and bring everything crashing down. There’s also no one way to be an American, either. The hijacking of patriotism by the right–by people who don’t understand their country or its government–is something I’ve long deplored. The goal was never perfection–the founders were very aware of human frailties and weaknesses–but to always strive to be better. And are red states better places to live than blue ones? Our new governor here in Louisiana seems determined to out-Desantis Desantis; who knows how much worse things are going to be here once he is finished doing the job of utter destruction of Louisiana that Bobby Jindal started?
I wish I had more time to devote to studying our politics here in Louisiana so I could write about it more.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader, and you never know; I may be back later.
Good morning, Tuesday, and back to the office today. I am very glad that I took yesterday off, as I was completely exhausted. Once I finished my blog yesterday morning, I started trying to get caught up on everything that had slid over the weekend (dishes, laundry, etc.) but ran out of steam around eleven and was so tired I ached. So, no errands, no gym, no writing, not much of anything was truly done yesterday, but I was so tired I was fine with it. I am still fine with it this morning, frankly. I slept deeply and well last night, and of course, was very relaxed and comfortable this morning and didn’t want the night to end. But I am awake, my brain is coming alive and my coffee is tasting pretty good this morning. I am not sure what my day at the office is going to look like yet but I’ll let it be a surprise. I will have to pick up the mail today after work, but that’s fine.
I’ll probably snap back to normalcy tomorrow morning. I also have a lot of email that has accumulated since Friday to take care of, too. Heavy sigh.
But I still feel a little charged from the weekend, even if my own batteries are running low a bit. My legs and back don’t ache, for one thing, and my mind feels a bit less foggy than it did yesterday. Poor Paul got home yesterday afternoon and collapsed on the couch, from which he’s only moved to go to the bathroom or get something to eat or drink, so I hope he gets some seriously good rest today. (We watched the world skating championships and the SEC gymnastics championships before I went to bed.) I just didn’t have the energy to write yesterday, which was okay. I know I have a lot to do in order to get caught up in any way, but any work I would have done yesterday would have been terrible.
I did come up with some ideas for short stories over the weekend–not exactly what I want or need at the moment, but hey. I’ve been wanting to do more “Sherlock in 1916 New Orleans stories”; perhaps even a collection, and so it was kind of cool to come up with titles over the weekend (there’s a Sherlock novella I want to write, too, which would make the collection even more fun). I don’t need more ideas any more than I need a deep gaping hole in my skull, but the Sherlock thing is one I already had so I am not counting it as new but rather filling in the blanks for something already started.
But I am excited to roll up my sleeves and dive into the book again. The weekend was the kind of lovely recharge I need every now and then; which is what you can get from going to these types of events as a writer. Being around people who appreciate literature and writing and reading is a dream for me, and I love these occasional reminders that I am a part of the writing/publishing community–it’s very easy to feel removed from it when you don’t live near your writer friends and are only around them for brief spurts of times at conferences. There’s never enough time to talk to everyone, to catch up with everyone that I want to, as well as meet new people whose work you’ve yet to discover, and how wonderful it is to see the starry-eyed authors-to-be when they come to something like S&S for the first time. I saw several of those, and it’s also lovely that the short story and poetry anthologies are, in some cases, the writer’s first publication…and their reading at the festival is their first time doing so. I was very impressed by the poetry I heard Saturday night, particularly after talking to Steven Reigns about poetry on Friday night. I think I’ll start with T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land.
And so now it is time to officially return to the spice mines. I doubt I’ll be back later, but then again, one never knows. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader!
Monday morning after Saints and Sinners and I am exhausted. (I took today off, thank God.) It was such a lovely weekend–as it always is–but I wasn’t at 100% yet, and it definitely took its toll on me. I walked home quite a lot–every night since Thursday except for Friday night, when I was so damned tired I took a Lyft home. I also walked down to the Quarter yesterday, walked to and from the BK House in the lower Quarter from the hotel on Friday night (hence the exhaustion that night). But I am very pleased to report that I was able to do a reading and moderate a panel with no stage fright or high anxiety, which was so fucking lovely I kind of wish that I’d been on the proper medications for a lot longer, because I was able to thoroughly enjoy myself instead of having an adrenal spike and the panic-sweat and so forth–and now I understand how other people experience panels and readings. It was a wonderful experience.
But I am so exhausted this morning! My legs are ridiculously tired, and my lower back and shoulders are a bit sore this morning. I’m glad I did all that walking, tiring as it was, because I need to start working on getting back into shape now that I am done with the physical therapy. I should go to the gym today, actually, and perhaps will later on in the day. Paul will come home from the hotel today, but will most likely sleep most of the day away and he’s entitled, poor thing. He was so exhausted yesterday! But it was a marvelous weekend and I know he enjoyed himself a lot, despite working 18 hours a day. There were a lot of new faces this year–young aspiring writers–and they were so excited and thrilled to be a part of the weekend. That’s always been a concern of Paul’s–how to draw in and attract new panelists and readers, especially younger people–but somehow they all seemed to find US this year, which was lovely. I did some things this weekend I generally don’t do–went to the anthology launch, came to the closing in time to hear all the poets read. They were all amazing, and that, along with a conversation with noted poet Steven Reigns on Friday night, actually sparked an interest in poetry, and I’ve decided that one is never too old to appreciate a new to them literary interest–so I am going to start reading poetry and learn to appreciate it, and maybe even try writing it at some point. I’ve always found poets make terrific fiction writers (Margot Douaihy is the latest–and one of the greatest–examples of this), and so maybe this could be a way to improving my own writing.
One never knows.
But as I sit here this morning swilling coffee and feeling my aching body slowly coming back to life, I am also a little bit sad that it’s all over. S&S is always so good for my soul, for my creativity, and my inspiration. It was the perfect way to end a week where I finally snapped out of the 2023 malaise and got back into both reading and writing, which has been wonderful. I should also make groceries today, but I am feeling so tired I am thinking it may not be the best idea, since I have to go back to the office tomorrow morning and am already exhausted. I should probably just chill around here, order a pizza for dinner, and do some chores and writing while I let my body rest and relax.
I suppose this is the time to announce that I am going to be the guest judge for the S&S short fiction contest next year, which should be interesting. I spend so much time reading crime fiction that I don’t really read outside my genre as much as I should to get a more rounded experience, and this is a good opportunity for me. It’s been a very long time since I’ve read outside the genre, and as much as I need to get caught up on my crime fiction reading, I also should not just read crime fiction, either; I’ve always believed that writers should read across all genres and forms of fiction as a method of keeping your own work fresh and not derivative, which is always a danger when you write within the confines of a genre–I just haven’t been very good with it to begin with myself for a number of years now. Maybe this year.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day–actually right now, i am going to finish some chores and then go to the easy chair with the book I am reading now, and hopefully get some rest and relaxation. Have a great Monday, I may be back later, and I’m looking forward to getting some writing done today.
Saturday morning and I slept late, and feel a bit fatigued. I graduated from PT yesterday, which was awesome–but I’ll miss going. I really liked my therapist.
I headed down to the Quarter in a Lyft yesterday after finishing my work-at-home duties, and didn’t have time to write yesterday, which I hope to do this morning. We (Paul) have that lovely suite up on the fourteenth floor of the Monteleone again–but of course I come home every night to take care of Sparky (who was waiting in the window when I got home). I went to the opening reception at the Keyes House in the Quarter (it’s called BK House now instead of its old name; in which the B stands for the general who started the Civil War–he was from New Orleans), which is an absolutely beautiful space, and I just realized I didn’t take any pictures, which I should do more of today and tonight. After the reception, where I ran into any number of delightful people (namedropping here–but amongst those I ran into were Rob Byrnes, Carol Rosenfeld, Amie Evans, Eric Andrews-Katz, Susan Larson, Trebor Healey, and Margot Douaihy), I went to eat (well, to watch them eat) with Steven Reigns, Karl (K. M.) Soehnlein, Marco Carocari, his husband Mark, and Trebor Healey. We went to that bar that used to be Yo Mama’s but has a different name now. It was lovely going down memory lane with Steven over all the years of Saints & Sinners, and remembering how it all happened in the first place all those years ago. Twenty-one years now, which is pretty amazing for a queer lit fest.
Then again, I married a pretty remarkable person.
I have to read today, and I think I have settled on my story from School of Hard Knox, “The Ditch,” because it’s an Alabama story and I can pull out my accent for it. Maybe not at first, but as I get into the story more, absolutely. I’ll also need to rehearse a bit this afternoon before I head down there again. I think today I’ll wear more sensible shoes than I did yesterday, so I can take the streetcar down and walk home at the end of the evening. It’s a lovely walk and the evenings are so cool and temperate…I really wanted to walk home last night rather than taking a Lyft home, but my shoes–I was wearing my new black-and-white saddle shoes, and I worried about walking all that way in them. Not that they would be uncomfortable, but the wear-and-tear on them for that long of a walk–that’s what my Adidas are for. I also noticed on the way to the Quarter in a Lyft (thanks, Tedzin, for the ride) that the Appellate Court building on Camp Street was named for John Minor Wisdom, who’d served there with distinction for over twenty years; it just struck me as funny yesterday that a Federal Appellate court building was named minor wisdom, which I am going to have to use in a book sometime.
I also did some chores and filing and straightening up around here yesterday, so the workspace is a lot less cluttered and a lot more functional now. I’ve also decided on a major project for this summer–getting rid of paper files. I don’t need a paper file for anything that isn’t really something in progress right now, but it’s also a massive undertaking that would require going through all the files…and there are so many files…but condensing them and cleaning out the files that I don’t really need much anymore would also make the workspace more functional and the apartment far less cluttered looking. I have so many ideas I won’t be able to write them all unless I not only live to well over a hundred but don’t get any NEW ideas for the rest of my life.
I think it’s safe to assume that’s never going to happen.
Sigh, I also have to start pulling my taxes together for my accountant. Sigh. What an odious chore, but like I’ve always said–there’s nothing more patriotic than paying your taxes so the country continues to be funded. That doesn’t mean I don’t take every deduction I can and try to get the bill down as much as possible, but I don’t ever complain about paying taxes. I kind of like paved roads and infrastructure and so forth. Call me a libtard; I wear it as a badge of honor–unlike the con(servative) artists out there, or the cosplay Christians who missed all the important messages of their religion to be better people.
And on that note, I think I am going to go sit and read for a bit before I amp up for writing. Have a great day, Constant Reader–I doubt I’ll be back later, but stranger things have happened.
Monday morning and back to the office blog. I did write some yesterday–not nearly enough–and I did get some things done this weekend. I bought blinds for the breakfast nook, but I think they are too small; I may have to exchange them for another, larger set. Which is okay; I can do it after work one night as the Lowe’s is just up Elysian Fields. Tonight after work I have to go to the gym to do PT, and then I’m coming home to do some more writing and cleaning. Paul’s moving into the Monteleone on Wednesday, which means I’ll be here alone with the Sparkster, and also means Sparky will be very needy. He loves the cat treats I got him this weekend, no surprise there, and so I will continue to dole them out for good behavior. I feel rested this morning, which is different from most usual Monday mornings, but I think that has to do with making myself get up early Sunday morning and not sleeping late again the way I did Saturday morning.
Still, that felt amazing.
I feel pretty good this morning, too. The temperature dropped again over night, so there is a bit of a chill in the air this morning. I need to actually look at the program for S&S this weekend so I can put the stuff I am doing on my calendar and can start planning for the weekend. It’ll be weird being home alone for the long weekend (Wednesday thru Monday), but I’ve been a Festival widow since January anyway, so it probably won’t even be noticeable. I’ve also taken Monday off, as it’s always brutal getting up at six in the morning after the Festivals have concluded. It was a little odd this morning, though; Sparky usually comes and starts smacking me in the face with his paw just before the alarm goes off, and continues to do so while purring and cuddling until I get up. He didn’t come out from under the bed until I actually got out of bed, and just followed me downstairs instead of insisting on food immediately. His bowl was completely empty this morning, too.
I did write about a thousand new words on the short story yesterday, but my mind kept wandering and I got up to do something and just never went back. I also edited the 2000 words or so I had already done, so I think it was probably more new words than merely a thousand. It still feels a little rusty for me when I’m writing, but the best way to get past that is to keep writing until it starts to feel natural again and my mind stops wandering when I am writing. That’s the weirdest part. Usually when I write I shut out everything and am laser-focused, that’s not the case anymore and that’s fine.
My mind is still bouncing all over the place, too. It’s trying to spike my anxiety, too, but I just take some deep breaths and calm down, which is a lot easier to do with the new medications.
I did finish reading The Cook by Harry Kressing, which was an interesting and short read. It was a black comedy of sorts, more of a Kafka-esque fable than anything else, but in all honesty I enjoyed the movie version (Something for Everyone) a lot more than I did the book; in the book Conrad seduces everyone with his incredible food and force of will; in the movie, he’s played by a stunningly beautiful young Michael York who actually sexually seduces his prey until he gets what he wants. I will do a more in-depth review of the book at some point, but it does play into my thoughts that Saltburn owes more to that movie than it does The Talented Mr. Ripley or Brideshead Revisited.
We also finished watching season two of The Tourist, which was twisty and clever and fun and we really enjoyed it and are really looking forward to the third season–the second ended with a terrific cliffhanger twist that definitely will make for a fascinating and exciting third season. Plus, Jamie Dornan and Danielle Macdonald have some amazing chemistry together.
I also watched some documentaries last night about Jayne Mansfield, who I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I’m not entirely sure what triggered me to thinking about her again. I first read about her in Earl Wilson’s The Show Business Nobody Knows when I was a teenager, and from there went on to read May Mann’s biography of her, Jayne Mansfield. She was very interesting to me, and was thrilled when her daughter began her career as an actress. I remember thinking Mariska Hargitay? She must be Jayne Mansfield’s daughter because what are the odds of there being two Mariska Hargitays? and watched her for years on Law and Order: SVU. Oh, now I do remember. I bought a copy of the Wilson off ebay because I thought it might be helpful with Chlorine, to give me an idea of what it was like to be in show business in the 1950’s, and of course, he devoted a chapter to her. I bought another bio of her off eBay recently, and she is very interesting, as she always has been to me. I’ve only seen one film of hers, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter, which I thought was hilarious and she was fantastic in it. Benjamin Dreyer brought her up on one of the social media channels this weekend, and so I thought I’d find what I could of her on Youtube. Her story was actually perfect for someone like Jackie Collins or Jacqueline Susann to have written a huge trashy novel about, I’ve always thought. I also loved that she was actually–despite her image as a sexy dumb blonde–incredibly smart, almost genius level. And she only worked in show business for about ten years–while having four children, too, and keeping that incredible figure.
It’s funny; I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, Constant Reader, but I generally use song titles for my blog posts. About twelve years ago it was getting harder and harder to think up song titles organically, so I started using themes–Stevie Nicks songs, Pet Shop Boys songs, top 100 hits of 1977, that sort of thing. I can’t remember now which years I’ve used so I recently went back to the top 100 of 1959, I think; it’s interesting how many titles and songs have to do with teenagers; clearly, modern songwriters don’t have to write about teenage heartbreak anymore to appeal to young listeners. I also started watching Eras: The Taylor Swift Concert Movie, and I have to say I am very impressed. I can’t dedicate three and a half hours to watching it, but putting it on and listening while doing chores is terrific. Her show is amazing–I still have over an hour to watch (and am bummed she didn’t do “Red”) and I am actually looking forward to it. I also love how much right-wingers hate her.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day Constant Reader, and I may be back later, you never can be sure. I’m tricky that way!
Sparky was cuddling with me this morning in the bed as I took my time deciding whether the siren song of the comfortable bed and blankets was resistible when I heard thunder and that decided me. I do think I will take advantage of this gloom and the falling rain and the thunder to read some more of my book this morning (The Cook by Harry Kressing) before diving into an exciting day of writing and cleaning. Yesterday I ran some errands–Lowe’s and Rouse’s–before coming home and getting back into the filing and cleaning. I got us a pizza for dinner, and when Paul got home we watched two more episodes of The Tourist, which I am really loving (despite the fact there have been no gratuitous shirtless shots of Jamie Dornan, which seems a shame and a waste). Oh, and the Saints and Sinners program is available here. I am moderating a crime fiction panel with a powerhouse panel, and I am also doing a reading. I’m not sure what I will read from, but I am leaning towards my short story “Moist Money” or “The Ditch.” Guess I should start rehearsing. Or getting ready to moderate the panel. Maybe later.
“The procrastination is strong in this one.”
But once I finish this and make myself some breakfast, I am going to take my coffee into the living room and read some more for a little while before getting cleaned up and heading back into the spice mines. I feel like I can get some good work done today. Paul will probably get up later today, and we’ll probably finish watching The Tourist, which is a fine and lovely way to spend the day, methinks. I also need to finish up some filing and emptying out my inbox, and before you know it it’ll be bedtime. I had hoped to barbecue today, but if the rain doesn’t let up that’s a no-go, alas. I also bought a new grill yesterday (Lowe’s) which needs to be assembled and the old one disposed of; I also bought blinds for the window which I fear might be too small. I am debating whether I should try to put them up myself or ask Sam our handyman to do it when he works on the windows (he’s trying to unstick them so I can get fresh air into the house), The desk and the computer need to be moved before hand, of course, which is a problem…but I also have a laptop and an iPad with a keyboard, so I have no excuse for not writing when I’m in the chair, do I? And yet…
I do feel good this morning, rested and alert and awake and raring to go; we’ll see how long that lasts. It’s very gray outside, which means we’ll most likely be getting rain for most of the day. Which is okay; I can make something else with the ground sirloin in the fridge, and I am adapting, always a good sign–I used to get so unsettled by a change in plans for the day that I’d inevitably wind up doing nothing, which was not a good thing.
I’m also thinking about what I want to do for the rest of the year, and with my career for the rest of my life. It’s weird to think in those terms, isn’t it? But I am also getting to the point where I am having to start thinking in terms of well, if you die, which idea will you be most disappointed in not writing? And this is tricky, because I am always getting new ideas that sound terrific. It’s really important, at least to me, that I spend the rest of this year finishing things in progress and getting them out of my hair. I know I want to write about both Alabama and Kansas again, and probably a New Orleans ghost story I’ve been wanting to write for a very long time now. I have a book that has about 40k done on it, but will need extensive revision and at least another 40k.
And who knows? I may even bring Chanse back ONE MORE TIME–but don’t count on it.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back at some point later.
Saturday morning and I was exhausted, not rising up out of bed until well past eight. Sparky tried to get me up (five a.m. for food; he doesn’t recognize Daylight Savings Time) several times–I did get up to feed him at six–before giving up and curling up to my side and going to sleep. I could hardly disturb him by getting up, could I? Plus I still felt very tired, exhausted, until I finally did get up. PT was particularly intense yesterday–I had a new therapist who was filling in for my regular–and she was just stunned, repeatedly, at how well I was doing and how strong I was, which was really nice. She kept commenting on it the entire time, which was a lovely thing for my ego and only encouraged me to keep pushing harder. I came home, worked, did some chores around here. and then ran a couple of errands after the work was done. I was exhausted (I think I did seven loads of laundry? It had built up and Friday is when I do the bed linens), and just collapsed into my chair. I finished watching Feud–I didn’t think last week’s was the final, if it did indeed end with him dying–and then watched LSU’s gymnastics team trounce North Carolina in their last meet of the season (SEC meet is next weekend) before watching this week’s Abbott Elementary and retiring to bed, exhausted. I have a busy day ahead of me–reading, writing, errands, other chores–and my house is also a mess, sigh. But I’m not going to allow all the things I need to get done to overwhelm me and thus guarantee none of it will get done.
And I definitely need to make groceries.
But I do feel tired–fatigued–in my muscles. The shoulders are fatigued, and so are my legs and my lower back feels a bit tight. Fortunately I bought that hand-held massage device (which can’t be used as a vibrator, get your head out of the gutter), so I think I am going to use it and that foam back roller today, maybe stretching a bit will help the leg fatigue. I also am going to get cleaned up this morning–shaving the face and head, which I don’t keep up with as much as I should, bad Gregalicious, bad Gregalicious. I need to get to work on myself more than anything else, and need to stop thinking “meh, good enough”. I think later on this year I’m going to have to make a trip to the outlet mall in Gonzalez and get some new clothes–dressier pants and shirts, at any rate–to go with the fancier shoes I have; I’ve never matched outfits to a couple of pairs of Oxfords, which makes wearing them more difficult–bothering my OCD–because the outfits have to be made to somehow match the shoes, and I don’t always succeed. I usually am bored by shopping for clothes; but now that I am thinking about experimenting with style, it actually sounds a bit more intriguing than it ever did before, frankly…and now that I am thinking about it more, that was undoubtedly triggered by my anxiety.
And now that I no longer have the anxiety anymore, maybe shopping for clothes will cease to be an ordeal for me. And I do love argylle.
It’s a very bright and sunny morning here in New Orleans, too–which reminds that I need to size the windows and order blinds, so I should also check on office supplies and maybe order for pick-up or delivery–and so I am feeling like I should be able to get things done today (or it’s the coffee kicking into gear here); we’ll see how it goes and how long my energy lasts–it should be a major grocery run today, but then again Paul won’t be home after Wednesday so…probably not? Heavy sigh. I guess I’ll NOT do a major grocery run today and then add things during the week that we need. I also bought a half-gallon of milk thinking we were out and SURPRISE! There was a half-gallon in the refrigerator already. AH, well.
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. I have things that I need to get done this morning, and I also want to read a little bit before I dive into the day headfirst. May your Saturday be amazing and wonderful and cool, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.
Friday morning work at home and up early for PT blog. I slept very well last night, but didn’t get much of anything done when I got home from work. I wasn’t super tired or anything, but Scooter was feeling needy and the next thing i knew it was time for bedand I’d wasted the entire evening. But that’s okay. I’m not sure why he’s been so needy when I get home the last two nights, but he has been and I don’t mind letting him sleep in my lap so he feels loved. He’s such a darling. He also was cuddling with me in the bed this morning after the alarm started going off. Much as I miss Scooter, I’m glad we rescued this sweet playful boy.
I’ve picked out my next read, and it’s a short one, The Cook by Harry Kressing, which is the book the film Something for Everyone was based on. I think I am getting to the point where I am ready to finish my long-overdue post about Saltburn, and reading the book potentially could be a help on that score. I also want to read some of the other short books I have on hand, and hopefully that will get me deep into reading again. It would be great to spend an hour a day at least reading; the days when I used to compulsively read, and get so involved in a book that I’d blow off everything else I had to do in order to finish it. Heavy sigh. I don’t know why I’m having so much difficulty reading these days; and I do strongly suspect that the two things–inability to read and inability to write much–are very linked together. Something for me to work on this weekend, at any rate.
I had a breakthrough on the story I’ve been struggling to finish writing, and so I am hopeful that today, once I am done with work-at-home duties, will be able to dive right in and get this draft finished. I’d like to edit “When I Die” tonight as well; Lord knows I’ve printed enough hard copies of that damned story in order to get it edited easily enough soon, sheesh. I am debating changing the story a bit–why would they go out into the swamp that night, I am not convinced the reason I gave them in the original draft is good enough–and I am considering changing the make-up of the cast as well; instead of two guys and two girls, maybe three or four guys instead? A fraternity hazing ritual or something? That might be more compelling than what I had written already. I don’t know, really. I guess rereading the story will make a difference, and then start picking it apart.
I also have errands to run this weekend as well, and definitely need to wash the car again. What a glamorous life, right? But the festivals are next weekend, and I won’t be staying in the Quarter because of Sparky–who will definitely be needy–so I am not sure how much I am going to be able to get done then. Heavy heaving sigh.
I do love my new saddle shoes. I wore them to work the other day to break them in (so I can wear them next weekend) and they are so comfortable. I think maybe I am going to try to develop, this late in life, my own sense of style and start wearing the types of clothes I’ve always wanted to. I kind of want a cape coat, like the ones Barnabas wore on the original Dark Shadows, which I’ve always thought looked cool and always wanted. I am also thinking about getting a walking stick for dressier occasions, too. I’ve never really been much into clothes, primarily because I’ve always felt like men’s clothes were always too staid and patriarchal for me, so I never cared. But now that men’s clothes are getting more stylish? Sign me up. I think I want a cape, too, and a denim duster. I love the way younger male celebrities are mixing things up with their formal wear, and trying new styles and looks and I think it’s wonderful; definitely one of the best outcomes from more gender fluidity in society–and really, it’s all just drag, isn’t it?
And I kind of need to be more serious about everything to do with my career. I need to get that website finished, I need to get new author photos done, and of course all kinds of work that needs to be done on the house.
At least I’m thinking about making improvements to my life and everything, right, rather than just coasting along again and letting life happen to me?
So on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.
Queer and Loathing in America 