Category: college football

Maybe Someday

Well, we managed to survive Monday, did we not, Constant Reader?

Always a plus, don’t you think?

Yesterday morning I got up without much of a problem—but I really need to stop checking my Fitbit every morning to see how well I slept; it’s rather silly, actually, and doesn’t change whether I feel rested or not when I do get up. I went to the gym Sunday afternoon (why do I always forget how good it feels to stretch and work out?) and am hoping to have the energy to go for Leg Day after work tonight. This month—looking ahead—is going to be a bit on the crazy side: I have an on-line training for work; I’m doing a library event in the evening this coming Monday; my book drops officially next week; I’m doing an event with David Slayton (author of White Trash Warlock) with Murder by the Book on the 13th; and I am having a colonoscopy on the 21st. Woo-hoo! That’s me, living large everywhere I turn around. And then it’s Halloween, and then it’s November, and I am taking two trips: one to New York/Boston (for Crime Bake), and to visit my family for Thanksgiving (note to self: buy plane tickets and make arrangements for New York/Boston trip). After that, it’s pretty much just Christmas and New Year’s, and suddenly it’s Carnival again—not sure what it’s going to look like, to be completely honest, or how much I plan to be involved or participate with it. I will also be doing some traveling in the new year—New York again in January, Birmingham in February, Albuquerque for Left Coast, whenever that is—and here’s hoping the pandemic has calmed down and/or finally ended by then. PLEASE? Is it too much to ask?

There really is something to be said for doing things that were normal before the pandemic again. I do think going to the football game Saturday night, which I was so concerned about—and I wasn’t entirely comfortable around all those people—helped reset my brain a bit; I felt so much better about the world and life and everything in general when I woke up Sunday morning—after the first cup of coffee cleared some of the bleariness away—and Sunday night, after watching two more episodes of Midnight Mass (which is extraordinary, by the way; you should watch, Constant Reader—the writing and acting and production values are truly stellar—I had no problem going to bed and sleep. I did hit snooze a few times yesterday morning, as always—the alarm is set fifteen minutes ahead; which may seem kind of dumb to me at times (what good does it do you if you always remember its fifteen minutes fast?) but I do like to gradually wake up and acclimate a bit before I throw aside the covers and put on my morning pre-shower attire of LSU sweats, socks and house slippers. (Note to self: need a new pair of LSU moccasins to wear around the house)

I was also fairly productive yesterday, which was most pleasing to me. I did start getting sleepy and tired in the afternoon while at work, but powered through. I got a lot of emails taken care of, paid some bills, and spent a lot more time than I probably should have on Twitter being amused about the Facebook crash. (although I did find myself more than slightly amused at how often I would automatically start to go to the Facebook tab on my browser before thinking sorry, Dave, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that right now)

Old habits die hard, and it does kind of bother me that it’s become so habitual for me to check Facebook. (We pause briefly now to look back and remember the days of MySpace, with a bit of nostalgic fondness)

Honestly.

But I am getting better organized, and working more efficiently these days than I have for, oh, say about the last two years, give or take? I am also—now that I no longer feel the need to spend all day Saturday glued to the television watching college football—going to start cleaning projects, weekend by weekend, until I have gradually cleaned the entire apartment. Ambitious plans, to be sure, but it’s not like I haven’t done it before. And included in this is cleaning out the crawlspace above the laundry room; there’s a lot of stuff up there that can probably be donated—boxes and boxes and boxes of books that I most likely will never look at again because they are in boxes in the crawlspace. The ultimate goal for me would be to not only clean out the crawlspace but clean out the storage unit—there’s room in there now, but there could be a lot more. (There’s also a chance that things in there got ruined during Ida as well—I know at some point since I rented the unit some water got in there somehow, because a couple of boxes had gotten wet and were thus ruined and needed to be thrown out.) I was also thinking about the whole “keeping my papers to have them archived somewhere”—which I really need to either do, or throw them in the garbage because they take up so much space—because what really is going to be interesting is the electronic files; those may not show the notes I’ve made on manuscripts themselves for edits and so forth, but you can trace the progression of the writing and rewriting through each different version of the story/book/file. (And of course, I am rolling my eyes at myself for thinking any future scholar of queer mysteries from this time period would be interested in me and my work. Ten years after I am dead, cremated and my ashes scattered in the various places I want them scattered, I won’t be remembered, and I am perfectly fine with that.) I mean, it’s interesting to me to look through because it triggers memories long dormant in a corner of my brain, but I honestly cannot imagine being the subject of anyone’s dissertation or thesis; unless someone wants to look at my stuff as a reference to gay white male life in New Orleans before and after Hurricane Katrina.

Ah, well.

I also realized I’ve been writing this for quite some time and haven’t mentioned Bury Me in Shadows yet, and I was going to try to talk about this book a bit every day as a bit of a tease to encourage people to buy it. It really is a wonder I have a career, isn’t it?

So, if you’ve stuck with this entry so far, let me promise you this: tomorrow I will talk about Bury Me in Shadows. You’ve been warned.

Until tomorrow, Constant Reader.

Together We’re Better

Yesterday actually turned out to be quite lovely.

I was a little bleary when I got up yesterday morning (my Fitbit advises me I only slept deeply for 3 hours, 48 minutes; the rest was “light sleep” and I woke up three times), but for whatever reason, I decided to start getting to work on things. I started answering emails (I am very careful with email. I refuse to let it control my life, which it easily can; so I answer emails over the weekends and in the mornings, save my responses as drafts, and send them all after lunch. I do not send emails after five pm CST; I do not read them, either. Email at one point took over my life, which made getting anything done impossible and raised my stress levels to unbelievable heights. I realized anyone who absolutely, positively needs to reach me has my cell phone number…and if I don’t trust you with my cell phone number…you don’t really need an answer right away. And guess what? The world didn’t end, I didn’t miss out on anything, and nothing became harder) while reading coverage of the LSU debacle from Saturday night (one thing I did mean to mention and didn’t yesterday; I try not to be overly critical of college athletes because they are basically kids. It’s easy to forget that when you’re watching on television, but when you see them on the sidelines with their helmets off, or while walking down Victory Hill to the stadium in their suits and ties…you see a bunch of teenagers and young men in their early twenties. They are kids—and those baby faces on those big muscular bodies is a very strange juxtaposition sometimes). I decided on the way home from Baton Rouge that while I do, indeed, love football, I really shouldn’t give up my weekends to it all fall. Now that LSU is definitely out of the running for anything, I’ll probably not watch as much football as I would if they were still in contention for anything. I’ll still watch LSU, and occasionally I may spend an afternoon watching a big game—the SEC title game, the play-offs—I am not going to spend every Saturday pretty much glued to the television all day, flipping between games all day. And I also rarely enjoy watching the Saints—I love them, they’re my guys, my team, my heart—but their games are so damned stressful it’s hard to enjoy them, and when the games is over I am always, win or lose, emotionally and physically and mentally exhausted. So, I decided it made more sense to get things done, check in on the score periodically, and not sweat it too much. (Good thing. Like LSU, the Saints led the entire game, folded like a newspaper in the fourth quarter and wound up losing.) I made groceries, filled the car’s gas tank, and before going, I started weeding shit out of my iCloud and saving it all to my back-up hard drive.  I wound up freeing up over four hundred and seven gigabytes in my flash storage, and suddenly my computer was running very quickly again.

And yes, it’s my fault.* I have a gazillion pictures files, going back to digital camera days. I used to back up my hard drive and my flash drives regularly to the cloud—and those folders are enormous. I don’t probably need all of it—I was weeding through bits here and there as I moved the files over to the back-up hard drive (eventually planning on copying them up to Dropbox), and started finding all kinds of interesting things. Story fragments I’d forgotten, book ideas and anthology ideas and essays I’d started; some of these things are in very rough, first draft form—and got left behind as my addled, AHDH-like brain moved on to the next thirty or forty ideas for all of the above. I also was kind of amused to see how I often I plagiarize myself; I had a completely different idea for the book I wanted to call A Streetcar Named Murder fifteen years ago—which I can still use at some point, just have to come up with a new title. I’d forgotten that all the way through the process Need was called A Vampire’s Heart; my editor suggested changing it after I turned the book it. It was a wise choice; my title was very romance sounding and Need was hardly that. It was also interesting seeing, over the years, how many different ideas I’ve had for a gay noir set in the world of ballet (damn you, Megan Abbott!). I discovered that Murder in the Garden District actually began as Murder on the Avenue (a title I can repurpose for an idea I had last week); I found the original files for Hollywood South Hustle, the Scotty book that turned into a Chanse MacLeod, Murder in the Rue Ursulines; I found the files for the Colin book that tells us what he was doing and where he was between Mardi Gras Mambo and Vieux Carré Voodoo; I found the original Paige novel I started writing in 2004, in which an Ann Coulter-like pundit from New Orleans is murdered; I found the first three chapters of the Scotty Katrina book, Hurricane Party High,  in which they don’t evacuate during a fictional hurricane, and the chapters where I rewrote it, had the, evacuate to Frank’s sister’s in rural Alabama (and we meet Frank’s nephew Taylor for the first time—and I also remembered that they belonged to some weird kind of religious cult and that Taylor was going to come to New Orleans in the future to visit during their version of rumspringa, but eventually abandoned the idea completely and never did a Scotty/Katrina book; was reminded that Dark Tide began as Mermaid Inn; that I wrote the first chapter of Timothy during the summer of 2003; and if I even tried to list all the iterations that wound up being #shedeservedit, we would be here all day (Sins of Omission, I think, was my favorite earlier title; again, a completely different book with some slight similarities…I may have to take a longer look at some of those iterations because being reminded of them all, I also remembered that I really liked all the versions).

I also found many, many nonfiction pieces I’ve written over the years—many of which I’d long since forgotten about—so maybe that essay collection won’t take quite as long to pull together as I had originally thought. Huzzah!

And I also discovered something else that I knew but had slipped out of my consciousness: that Bury Me in Shadows was called, for the first and second drafts, Bury Me in Satin—which gives off an entirely different vibe, doesn’t it? I wrote a very early version of it as a short story while in college, called it “Ruins,” but never wrote a second draft because I knew it wasn’t a short story; it needed to be a book, and one day I would write it. I was never completely comfortable with the story, to be honest; I wasn’t sure how I could write a modern novel built around a Civil War legend in rural Alabama. I absolutely didn’t want to write a fucking Lost Cause narrative—which is what this easily could have become, and people might come to it thinking it is, and are going to be very angry when they find out it is not that—but I really wasn’t sure how to tell the story…and in my mind, I thought of it as Ruins—which I freely admit is not a great title, and has been over-used.

As luck would have it, I was watching some awards show—I can’t begin to try to remember what year—and one of the nominated groups performed. I’d never heard of The Band Perry before; and the song they performed, “If I Die Young,” absolutely blew me away. (I just remembered, I kind of used the title as guidance when writing Need—always trying to remember he became undead very young) The first two lines of the chorus are this:

If I die young,

Bury me in satin

And I thought to myself, Bury Me in Satin is a perfect title for the Civil War ghost story! Melancholy and sort of romantic; I’ve always thought of hauntings as more about loss than being terrifying (you do not have to go full out jump scare, use gore or blood or violence to scare the reader, and if you doubt me, read Barbara Michaels’ Ammie Come Home), which is why I’ve always loved the Barbara Michaels novels that were ghost stories. That was the feeling I wanted to convey, that sad creepiness, and longing—I wanted a Gothic feel to the book, and I felt that line captured what I wanted perfectly. But as I wrote it, it didn’t quite feel as right as it did in that moment (I still love the song—and the video is interesting and kind of Gothic, doing a Tennyson Lady of Shalott thing), and then one day it hit me: changed ‘satin’ to ‘shadows’, and there’s your perfect title.

And so it was.

Oh dear, look at the time. Till tomorrow, Constant Reader! I am off to the spice mines! Have a lovely Monday!

*I will add the caveat to this that anything stored in the Cloud should not affect the flash storage in the actual computer and its operating system, and yes, I am prepared and more than willing to die on that hill.

Am I Losing You

Good morning, Sunday. I am not as worn out and tired as I thought I would be, to be honest.

The game last night was disappointing–it always is when LSU uses–but I wouldn’t have even minded that so much had it seemed like they were trying to win the game, if that makes sense? As I sat in a crowded (not full) stadium for the first time in two years, in and itself a novelty from the before times, it occurred to me as I watched that the problem this entire season with LSU is both sides of the ball (offense or defense), whichever is out on the field at the time, is playing not to lose, rather than to win. They play cautiously. The defense’s tackling was embarrassing for a team playing at the elitest level of college football; I don’t think they sacked the Auburn quarterback even once, and they don’t aggressively play pass defense in the backfield, either. It’s just weird that LSU has a quarterback now who has flashes of potential greatness–but no run game, no offensive line to speak of, and probably the worst defense to play for LSU since the 1990’s. Auburn didn’t play much better, either–so War Eagle fans shouldn’t put too much stock in this “big win” for them either. We barely beat Mississippi State, and UCLA–our other loss–keeps losing, too. Paul and I had never seen LSU lose in Tiger Stadium since we started attending games in 2010; that streak came to an end last night, as did Auburn’s losing streak in Baton Rouge; they hadn’t won in Tiger Stadium this century.

I always thought it would suck to drive all the way back to New Orleans after a loss–and especially one that at night–we didn’t get back to the car until well past twelve, yet somehow managed to get home before one thirty (a miracle in and of itself). There was hardly any traffic, even in Baton Rouge; but there was a cop directing traffic on Highland Avenue so maybe that helped, I don’t know.

The sting of the LSU loss, however, was made a bit more palatable by others scores from other games: Florida lost to Kentucky (Dan Mullen’s job is definitely in jeopardy–with Georgia and LSU still on their schedule, it’s entirely possible they could lose four games, although I wouldn’t be too concerned about the LSU game were I them) and Mississippi State beat Texas A&M (which means Jimbo Fisher should be worrying about his job–they haven’t played Alabama or Auburn yet, and they already have two losses in the conference). Arkansas’ bubble was popped by Georgia decisively last night, and Stanford knocked off Oregon. This is a crazy year for college football, reminding me of 2007 and 2014 (although 2014 sorted itself in the end), and come to think of it, that’s a seven year cycle.

Maybe 2021 is going to be just as crazy.

As Paul said in the car, “I think really this year there’s just Alabama and Georgia, and then everyone else at a level below.” I think he’s right.

But I slept fairly well, and there was no need to yell or scream, so I am not hoarse this morning. The stadium never really got rocking, either, so my ears aren’t ringing the way they were after the last time we went to a game in Baton Rouge. I’m not tired, but I am also not feeling particularly high energy this morning either. I have to make groceries and get gas for the car (I can apparently make it to Baton Rouge and back on a quarter tank of gas, which ain’t bad, really), and there’s also a lot of other things I’d like to do today–the gym, write for a while, do some editing, clean and organize. I started clearing out files from the Cloud yesterday because once again–a problem I have had with every Mac I’ve owned ever since they developed the cloud and stopped putting large amounts of storage in their computers, even to operate programs–my computer wasn’t working properly. It was enormously frustrating and it took me hours to move big files out of there and onto my back-up hard drive. I wasted most of yesterday doing this, in fact, until it was time to get ready to go to the game. The entire point of buying a new Mac computer two months ago was to alleviate these issues and have a functional desktop; the Cloud was a huge mistake on their part–I am certainly not a fan of it–and I do think it’s absurd that every time they upgrade their operating systems you have to learn how to use your computer all over again. It’s bullshit, a cashgrab from an already excessively greedy corporation, and yes, this will be the last Mac I own. When it finally dies from an operating system upgrade–I’d say probably two years, max–I’ll be buying a Dell, much as I hate Windows, and moving everything in the Cloud over to Dropbox….which will not affect the operating memory of my fucking computer thank you very much.

So. Fucking. Frustrating.

And on that note, I need to get rolling on my day. You have a lovely and restful (or productive, if that’s your preference) Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will talk to you tomorrow.

If You Ever Go

Thursday, Thursday. A work at home day, hurray!

It rained again yesterday, which was more than a little bit irritating (in theory, it’s going to rain every day for a while now; including scattered thunderstorms in Baton Rouge Saturday night DURING THE GAME), but it’s okay. Rain makes me sleepy and I was tired yesterday from Tuesday night’s weird sleep, so the combination of the two helped me run out of steam by the afternoon. It kind of sucked, because I wanted to go to the gym and do some things last night, but by the time my shift ended and it was time to go home…all I wanted to do was go home, get under the blanket in my easy chair with a purring kitty in my lap, and mindlessly zone out while falling into some insane Youtube wormhole. However, I had advance warning that Paul would be late getting home (the grant he’s been working on was due at midnight), so after a few times around with history videos, I decided to watch a movie. I opened the TCM app on my AppleTV, and started looking through the vast riches there. I was delighted to see Pillow Talk was available to stream–a few weeks ago I’d looked for it, settling for the follow up, Lover Come Back, instead; which isn’t settling because it’s also a fun, if dated movie–and so queued it up. I’ve always loved Pillow Talk, and it always has made me laugh; but I’ve also not seen it in years, and I am a lot more aware about things that can be seen today as problematic. A sex comedy from the days of the Hays Code, made in 1959? Yes, all kinds of things were played for comedy back then that are not only no longer funny, but absolutely cringey today. And yes–there were parts that really made me cringe a bit; the entire “Rex Stetson” deception, which is actually quite cruel, being at the top of the list. But the only reason it even works in the first place is because Rock Hudson is so utterly likable, charismatic, and charming; even though he’s a complete cad, you can’t help but like him. Doris Day is stunningly beautiful, and that singing voice! The chemistry between the two is also powerful; you know from the beginning they’re going to wind up together (it’s a romantic comedy, after all), and Hudson–dismissed as just being handsome rather than actually having any talent–deserved an Oscar. Knowing Hudson is a gay man, playing a straight man with a steady parade of women through his life and is so completely convincing that he not only is falling for Doris Day but you actually believe he wants to fuck her.

That–given his reality–was definitely Oscar worthy. The film absolutely couldn’t be made today–the idea that a woman in her late twenties/early thirties would be an almost prudish virgin would never fly today–but it holds up better than Lover Come Back, in that Day’s character has some great scenes with other characters about how she wants to be in love, wants to fall in love, and dreams of finding the right man who will sweep her off her feet and romance her and love her; the relationship between her character and the neurotic millionaire who loves her (Tony Randall) is so incredibly sweet–she doesn’t love him but she likes him a lot, and how she gently lets him down after his umpteenth wedding proposal–and how he accepts the defeat gracefully, saying he just wants her to be happy above-all, was lovely; there was some great chemistry between Day and Randall as well. And that apartment she has! And New York just looks marvelous and wonderful and exciting and fun and everything you could ever imagine it could be. It’s a fantasy, of course, but that’s what movies were back then; and of course, the movie never shames Day for being a single career-woman in the big city–Lover Come Back’s message was a lot cruder–“she just needs a good fuck”–but it doesn’t play that way in Pillow Talk, which remains somewhat charming, if unrealistic.

And it’s actually a rather clever window into that time period.

As always, I have lots to do today. I am working at home, as per the usual, on a Thursday; which is nice. I slept well last night, which was also lovely; I don’t even think I got up once during the night. Paul had a meeting this evening but will be home shortly thereafter, so we can get caught up on our shows and actually spend some time together. I am getting excited and nervous about the game this weekend; I am delighted that we are returning to Tiger Stadium for the first time since the 2019 season, but at the same time I am a bit nervous about being in a stadium with over a hundred thousand people crammed into it; with thousands more partying on the university grounds around the stadium. This will be a sort of trial run for a return to normal after the pandemic is completely over, but at the same time I can’t get that voice in my head whispering super spreader event to stop. The game is at eight, which means not getting home until after midnight–not optimal–but I can sleep in on Sunday and get rested. (But I also need to check to see what time the Saints play on Sunday as well.)

And on that note, I am putting on my helmet and heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader.

Last Night

I can’t stop thinking about that Chippendales documentary I watched this past weekend.

I felt better yesterday than I have in a long time, even as I was making a list of all the things I need to get done in the meantime. (The list, by the way, is quite extensive.) Paul was working last night and I was tired when I got home. I tried to read for a little while but my mind was too tired to focus, so I put the book aside and watched some history documentary videos on Youtube, which really is quite addicting. (Youtube has become quite fascinating overall to me; and it’s very easy to fall into a video wormhole almost impossible to climb out from…I’m undoubtedly very late to this party, but it’s interesting what you can come across while digging around on there.) I also slept pretty well last night; I feel rested this morning and good, the way I did yesterday morning, and I think a lot of this has to do with being back on schedule; with going into the office Monday thru Wednesday and getting my schedule back in order the way it’s supposed to be. Normality, I suppose, is what it’s called, and getting back into a normal-seeming routine is what truly matters in trying to feel normal again.

My dishwasher was repaired yesterday, so last night I was able to get the most recent stack of dirty dishes cleaned and run through it without incident, which was also quite lovely. (It really takes so very little to make me happy, seriously.)

September is almost finished, as hard as that is to believe. The weather was simply stunningly gorgeous yesterday, too. And we have tickets for the LSU-Auburn game this Saturday! (Way to bury the lede.) It’s a night game, which means we won’t get home until midnight or so from Baton Rouge, but it’s also been two years since we’ve been to a game (the last time was the Florida game in 2019), and I am very excited. LSU isn’t playing great this year, but neither is Auburn (despite their almost-win at Penn State); so fingers crossed the Tigers will get their act together this week and be able to pull off the upset win at home. It’ll also be a beautiful night for a football game. And I can wear my new cap Paul got me for my birthday! Very exciting!

So, things are slowly starting to get back to what passes for normalcy around here, and I am slowly starting to feel like I am getting a handle on everything I should and need to be doing. I spent a very little time yesterday writing the first few paragraphs of “Condos for Sale or Rent”; I had already started the story sometime last year but didn’t like where it was going or what I was doing so I decided to start over, and there I was, writing fiction again. Maybe not anything I should have been working on (naturally) but it felt good to flex those writerly brain muscles again and start writing something again.

I also realized last night (while watching a video about the sad life of Elisabeth of France, sister of Louis XVI) that I’ve felt scattered and disorganized ever since the Great Data Disaster of 2018; which has been three fucking years since my desktop computer went on the fritz and I started having to develop work-arounds, and also right around the same time that our work computers stopped reading flash drives plugged into them, which started the horrible period on which my work was always spread over three different computers and I had to teach myself how to use the Cloud–which wasn’t easy, given the issues I was having with my desktop computer on top of everything else. I did somehow manage to write a couple of books and some short stories during those three years, but I’ve never really felt on top of things since that mess all began. I was actually starting to feel caught up and back on top of things again When The Power Went Out, and so for the last month it was back to flailing and the sad, defeatist attitude that everyone whose always told me I was a loser was correct and I was never going to be able to get everything done that I needed to get done–and that I was barely keeping my head above water this entire time. Being organized is the only way you can ever be truly efficient and highly-functioning, and I’ve not felt organized since December 2018. I am starting to feel better about being organized, and while the process is ongoing, I also feel like I’ve already made some great strides in getting better, holistically, with everything.

Tonight, I am hoping to have the energy to go to the gym for Leg Day (sobs softly to self) as well as stop and make some groceries on the way home–just to pick up a few little things–and then would love to spend some time reading Velvet Was the Night after the shower and so forth. I think Paul still has a grant to work on, so my evening is free; perhaps I can also get some writing done after the gym and shower. We shall see.

At any rate, tis time for me to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader.

I Woke Up In Love This Morning

Sunday morning and I am still trying to adjust to everything that has changed–primarily the weather change is what has me a bit off-balance this morning. I overslept, as I am wont to do these days now that I don’t seem to have the insomnia problem quite as much as I used to before, this morning–I’d intended to get up early so the six a.m. alarm wouldn’t be quite so horrific tomorrow morning, but best intentions and all that.

LSU won yesterday 28-25 over Mississippi State, but the win wasn’t terribly impressive and the season remains questionable still as to how it will go. A win is a win, however, and as Paul rightly pointed out, LSU lost to Mississippi State last year in Tiger Stadium, so this inevitably is better. The SEC West got a lot more interesting yesterday than it was looking on Friday; Auburn got incredibly lucky to win at home against Georgia State, while at the same time Arkansas was handing Texas A&M their butts in Dallas–the Razorbacks, who’ve been dwelling in the SEC West cellar for quite some time, are now ranked in to the Top Ten with two impressive wins over programs (A&M and Texas) that were supposed to be much better than Arkansas…but next week they are going to Georgia to take on the Number 2 team in the country, so it’s another test for the Hogs. They win that game and they might even jump into the Top 5; lofty heights for their long-suffering fans. Clemson got beat again yesterday, effectively ending any hopes they might have of a return to the national play-offs, barring this becoming another one of those completely weird years, like 2007….and this year is definitely looking like a weird year. Oklahoma somehow managed to eke out another squeaker of a win; any less lucky and they’d be 1-3 right now. Clemson’s out of it already. Ohio State cannot lose another game if they have any hopes of reaching the play-offs, either. Alabama is sitting pretty right now–I don’t know who might have a shot of beating Alabama–and Georgia’s got a tough schedule ahead of them, too, with Florida next month and surprising Arkansas this week. Florida cannot lose another game, either, if they want a shot at the play-offs; Georgia could lose to Florida but still make the play-offs as a one-loss SEC team if Florida loses a rematch with Alabama in the SEC title game. A&M’s loss to Arkansas pretty much ends their shot at the play-offs, unless they run the table, making their game with Alabama a must-win….which is not exactly the best scenario for anyone.

Like I said, an interesting year of college football.

Last night we watched the first three episodes of a documentary called The Curse of the Chippendales, which was interesting. I knew there had been a true crime connection with the strip show, of course; what I didn’t remember (but I had known at one time) was that Dorothy Stratten’s husband/murderer had been involved in their creation, and I had also forgotten how BIG the Chippendales were at their height, with clubs in New York and LA and two tours running at the same time. Chippendales was a social phenomenon that hasn’t really gotten as much attention as it should, given its societal and cultural impact; while the shows were for women-only, they certainly couldn’t control who bought their calendars, posters, and merchandise, or who tuned in when they appeared on Donahue or Oprah or whatever local area talk show would book them on. There was definitely an impact on how we as society and culture see male bodies and male sexuality; Chippendales took what we had been doing to women for centuries and flipped the script, making men the objects of desire, fantasy and lust. Would we have beefcake calendars or as much sexualization of the male body as we have today, had Chippendales (with an assist from Playgirl) never existed.

The Saints play at noon today, but I think I am going to the gym during the game. I love the Saints, but watching them causes me almost too much stress for me to enjoy the game, frankly. I’ll sit and watch LSU stink up the stadium till the bitter end, but I can’t do it with the Saints for some reason. I get too into the game; too agitated and stressed.

I did get some things done around here yesterday–surprisingly enough–and our “new releases” ZOOM thing went really well last night. It also reminded me I should probably be pushing Bury Me in Shadows a lot more than I have been; the book releases in just a few more weeks (preorders ship on October 1, if you order directly from the publisher, hint hint) but I am a lot more nervous about this book than any other I’ve done before, for any number of reasons–which would be something I can actually explore here on the blog to promote it, couldn’t I?

Heavy heaving sigh. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely, restful, wonderful Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will chat with you tomorrow morning again.

Echo Valley 2-6809

Monday morning and the day job grind begins yet again, but I don’t really mind, to be honest. At this point, anything that feels like a sort of normal routine again is quite welcome, to be completely honest. I didn’t want to get up–I never do, really–and with extreme dark going on outside right now, it does rather feel like I should still be in bed, quite frankly. But normality is normality, and I am choosing to look at the misery of being up this early as another step on the road to returning to normal. I am awake and not groggy, so that has to mean something, right?

The weather forecast also shows that fall might be on its way at long last as well; there are nights later this week where the temperatures are going to drop into the sixties! #madness

So perhaps the dog days of summer–with the brutal heat and humidity–are finally over. One can hope, at any rate. It is mid-September, which is right around when this happens every year, after all. Within a few weeks after Labor Day is when the weather breaks and we have our fall–perhaps not as chilly as every where else, but nevertheless, it does signal the change of season (such as it is in New Orleans, after all) and shorter days, which means coming home from work in the dark soon enough. I hate that–it means leaving for work in the dark and coming home in the dark, which makes it feel like you’ve lost the entire day, even though it’s merely an allusion of light vs. dark. Winters always seem grim to me because of the lack of light, frankly.

The Saints played terribly and got their butts beaten pretty badly by Carolina yesterday afternoon, which made things a bit easier for me: I didn’t need to do more than check in on the game every once in a while. I am not sure why it’s so difficult for me to watch the Saints than it is LSU–I can watch LSU play terribly and never miss a minute of the game, yet the Saints somehow feel, have always felt, a little more personal. Maybe because the Saints are New Orleans and LSU is Louisiana? I’m not entirely sure why it is, but the Saints sometimes I just can’t bear to watch them sometimes, and yesterday was one of those times. It just really hurts more when they lose than when LSU does (although an LSU loss is always a heartbreak); plus I grew up with an entirely different mentality about college football than pro. I never paid a lot of attention to the NFL before moving here and taking up the mantle of the Saints; plus the fact that their stadium is actually about a fifteen to twenty minute walk from our house makes the fandom seem a bit more real.

Ah, well, it’s not looking to be a great year for higher-level football in the state of Louisiana this year. Yay?

I have two goals for today: to get through my emails (sob) and to revise “The Sound of Snow Falling.” I have some notes on the new cozy series I’d also like to get typed up; the story and background are all starting to fall into place for me, and I am very excited about this, to say the least. I want to spend the rest of what’s left of September preparing to start writing this book come October 1, as well as getting some more of my other work revised; and maybe even get some short stories out there for submission–it’s been a hot minute since I’ve sold a short story, and I need to get back to work on that; one of the great pleasures of my career is selling/placing short stories; and perhaps it’s time to go back to the Ellery Queen well; I’ve not sold anything to that market in almost ten years. (Alfred Hitchcock is still on my list, FYI.) But I have to have something that’s actually ready, and I don’t really think I have any such thing on hand, to be honest….but then again, the short story file folder with its INSANE amount of sub-folders is also rather intimidating whenever I try to look into it…but I need to get back on the horse and I need to get back to writing again. The tock is clicking…

We watched the Amazon Prime docuseries LuLaRich yesterday, and it was…something. The thing I’ve always wondered with multi-level marketing has always been don’t you eventually run out of people to sell to? If everyone is buying to resale, won’t someone at some point eventually need to find actual customers who just want the product? It’s kind of like how I’ve always seen the economy, really–which is the ultimate MLM scheme–at some point people need to be able to buy products and services for the economy to work, so why is overtaxing the vast majority of people, and underpaying them for their work, the right way to handle the economy? Doesn’t it make more sense, economically, to broaden the amount of spending money the vast majority of people in the economy have, rather than letting it all go to the upper level? I am not an economist, obviously, but I have never been able to get anyone to answer that for me, and for the record, the voodoo economics of “the trickle-down theory” never works; it didn’t in the 1920’s, it didn’t in the 1980’s, and it sure as fuck is not working now. It’s just MATH, and it’s not that fucking hard. But the married couple who created this company aren’t evil people, really; I don’t think they actually understand anything about business and law and how to properly run a company…but they certainly did stoop to some seriously evil practices the deeper they got into the area where they didn’t know what they were doing. But I suspect they will wind up very rich at the expense of a lot of people who were sold a bill of goods about being entrepreneurs.

Which is sad, and makes me feel bad for the victims. (I always feel sorry for the victims, and try really hard not to be judgmental. It’s very easy to fall into the what were you thinking? Don’t you know there’s no such thing as easy success and easy riches in this world? But they already feel bad enough as it is–marriages ruined, financial bankruptcies, uncertain futures–and that mentality really feels like kicking an injured dog.)

Although it would make for an interesting Liane Moriarty novel, wouldn’t it?

And on that note, tis off the spice mines for me. Have a lovely Monday, everyone, and I will speak with you again tomorrow morning.

Rainmaker

I overslept yet again this morning–for whatever reason my body continues to demand extra sleep and extra rest–but I also woke up to a sunshine day this morning, and that’s simply marvelous. I slept very well, too–I actually fell asleep in my easy chair last night watching college football highlights, so there was that–and of course, now I have to readjust to getting up at six every morning beginning tomorrow again, which is actually fine, really. I made some progress on some things while sitting in my easy chair watching LSU play like LSU again last night against Central Michigan–final score 49-21, could have been much higher, as the started sat down after we went up 42-7 early in the third quarter–and it was quite lovely watching LSU play up to their potential for the first time this season. I feel a little bit better about starting SEC play now; I still don’t think we have the wherewithal to compete with Alabama, but I am not so worried as I was about some of the other teams in the league. I was also impressed by how close Florida came to knocking off Alabama yesterday as well…and I don’t think Florida is the best team in the East, either; that’s Georgia, methinks. So, it could be an interesting year for the SEC; not sure what the Auburn loss to Penn State means either, other than maybe Auburn may not be on track for a run this year, either.

The Saints are playing at noon today, which means I’ll probably have to watch part of the game at the gym; which is fine. I am not as rabid about watching every second of a Saints game the way I am with LSU; the Saints cause me too much stress sometimes to watch. I was impressed with how they played last week against Green Bay; we’ll see if they can keep that momentum alive this week, won’t we?

We also watched some Sex Education, which continues to be an absolutely charming little show, and the season premiere of The Morning Show, which doesn’t get near the attention it should, really. I tried to read a little bit yesterday to little or no avail; my mind still can’t focus on reading yet. The creative side of my brain is really starting to kick into gear again after the sort of short-circuiting the Ida situation caused; now i have to remember how to focus the creativity so I can get all this stuff done that I need to get done. I also need to start promoting my new book coming out in less than a month, but I am not quite there yet emotionally and mentally yet. I am hoping seeing clients again for three consecutive mornings will be the final return to normality that I so desperately need, that I so desperately hope will clear the cobwebs and dust from my brain and get me to sit at the keyboard and write again.

God, there’s so much to do. I cannot allow myself to let the depression to sneak its tendrils into my brain and give me that sense of being so overwhelmed that my subconscious thinks there’s so much to do I will never get it done so why bother trying which is the death knell, really; the surrender to my brain chemistry I’ve been fighting for well over twenty years. But I know I can do it all, I just need to get started and go until my energy (or interest) flags. And to do that I need a very thorough, very detailed, probably extremely lengthy to-do list, and to make that to-do list I need to get through all these piles of everything stacked up on my desk and on every surface around it. Getting organized is always the key, and it’s never easy, especially since I inevitably will always want to goof off and do nothing–which is my preference at all times, really. But I’ve been allowing the depression to control me too much over these last few weeks, so today it ends. I am going to clean this goddamned kitchen if it kills me, and I am going to file all this shit, and tomorrow night when I get off work I am going to go to the gym because I am not going to make it there today because getting this shit all under control is more important. I know I won’t want to go tomorrow night either when I get off work, but I am not going to let my laziness continue to control my life. Did you hear that, laziness and depression? YOU’RE NOT THE FUCKING BOSS OF ME ANYMORE.

We’ll see how long that lasts.

The other night at Costco we bought some new throw rugs for the kitchen, and I must say the kitchen looks a lot nicer now than it did. I decided to go with all black and white rugs this time, rather than multiple colors, and it’s a vast improvement. I need to get a few more to completely cover the floor, but it’s already made a terrific difference in how the kitchen looks. Now to get the dishwasher repaired again, and the kitchen will be a bit more functional (the dishwasher sprang a leak before the power went out). I made groceries yesterday so the house feels a bit more stocked (I always have this thing about not having enough food in the house; a left over from being poor, I suppose) and I also bought some bleach, which I’ve been meaning to get for some time, as I only had a little bit on hand when the power went out and I went through it rather rapidly after we returned to the Lost Apartment.

It’s also a bit hard to relate to and understand that it’s late September already; I feel like this past month has passed in a very strange fog and have lost all track of dates–I have a handle on the days now–which only is going to increase pressure for me to get everything done on time that I need to get done on time.

And on that note, I need another cup of coffee. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader!

One Night Stand

Saturday morning and I slept late again. I am feeling better this morning–I actually think recognizing what was going on inside my brain and calling it by its true name yesterday morning (in the blog post I forgot to post yesterday) helped me get past it in some way; like finally knowing what it is assists in getting past it in some way. I also know that it’s insidious and sneaky, and comes in waves, so will probably go back and forth between waves of depression and possibly manic bursts of energy and creativity; I need to really get focused on channel the energy as productively as I can because of the time I’ll lose when depression’s cold fingers wrap around my subconscious again. Ugh, it’s so awful, really; but I also know from cold hard experience that anti-depressants inevitably always make me feel numb all the time…which can be in some ways equally as bad as the depression itself as far as living my life and being productive is concerned.

I am hoping to get some writing done today, as well as running some errands before today’s college football games start airing. I’ll clean while the games are on, and possibly get some reading done if I can–I really want to finish Velvet Was the Night, in no small part because the new Rachel Howzell Hall, These Toxic Things, finally arrived yesterday. We made a late Costco run last night after work, and it was sad to see how understocked even Costco was (I don’t know why I was thinking Costco would be immune to the delivery issues affecting the city’s grocery stories) but we still managed to spend a ridiculous amount of money there; part of it was buying new throw rugs for the kitchen because the old ones are kind of gross now. But we were able to get almost everything on the list (there were a few things they didn’t have that we wanted, alas) and of course, we went off-list big time in order to spend the amount of money that we did…and we still didn’t replace everything completely. I had to clean the refrigerator out again last night–I either missed some spots on the initial clean or mold spontaneously reappeared somehow–but I am hoping that I simply wasn’t as thorough with the cleaning as I thought I had been–another side effect of the depression is doing something half-assed and then giving up, thinking meh it’s good enough.

It’s literally the worst.

Today I have some errands to run–yet again to make groceries, pick up the mail, that sort of thing–and then I am going to probably park in my easy chair with my journal while the games play on television. I am primarily interested in Auburn-Penn State and Alabama-Florida, with tonight’s LSU-Central Michigan game on deck; but we are also a bit behind on our shows that we watch; everyone dropped a new episode in the last few days, and we also started the new season of Sex Education on Netflix, which hasn’t dropped it’s delightful teen gay romance (huzzah!) and seems to be just as delightful, since the characters have actually grown some emotionally since the end of the last season, which is very cool and something I all too often complain about with shows; usually if characters don’t experience some degree of growth I lose interest.

I also have a book I need to write. YIKES! (Two, actually.) The Saints play early tomorrow, which is kind of a drag–I prefer them to play later in the day than noon, which means I will need to go to the gym earlier than I would prefer tomorrow–but it’s workable. I really really really need to get through everything today and make a complete and incredibly thorough to-do list; I am still so disoriented and disconnected from the pre-Ida life that I can’t remember everything I needed to get done, get going on, and of course the insidious depression at work inside my fevered brain keeps whispering you were supposed to finish a draft of Chlorine this month, remember? Honestly, depression is such a son of a bitch! Like I need any help undermining myself?

I also need to sign books and ship them off to people to whom I owe copies of the next one. I had hoped to get that done this morning so I can mail them today when I pick up the mail, and perhaps there will be time for that before I get up from my desk and get a move-on for the day.

Heavy heaving sigh.

And on that note, tis back to the spice mines with me.

She’d Rather Have the Rain

Sunday morning and the Gregalicious slept late once again. I easily could have stayed in bed longer than I did this morning, but I decided to go ahead and get up; Scooter needed his insulin shot, coffee was sounding pretty incredible, and I already felt fairly well rested; so what was the point in staying in bed? I’m kind of taking this weekend off from everything, trying to recharge batteries that were down so low from running on accessory for so long…I do feel somewhat better this morning, but I also know these times after major cataclysmic paradigm shifts can be deceptive, and often are no more than day to day; one day or so can be great, and then the next you’re spiraling downward into the depths again–or you can be fine one moment and then some minor type setback will send you off spiraling. I’m glad I’ve been through this sort of thing before, to be honest–I know sort of what to expect mentally and emotionally and physically, moving forward–so hopefully nothing will catch me off guard or unprepared.

Yesterday I spent almost the entire day watching college football and relaxing. The LSU game last night wasn’t great–LSU should beat teams like McNeese State by a greater margin than 34-7; and the offensive line problems from the opener against UCLA seem to be on-going, which isn’t giving the fan base a lot of confidence about the season going on from here–but it was fun watching Oregon surprise Ohio State at home, and Arkansas put a beat-down on Texas that couldn’t have been foreseen; I figured the Horns would make hay out of the Hogs, but instead…and Texas A&M was very lucky to escape Boulder with a win over Colorado. Alabama continues to Alabama; but this looks to be a season of surprises everywhere, which means it will be interesting and fun to watch. The Saints are playing the Packers in the Super Dome today, and of course, Novak Djokovic looks to be the first male player to win a calendar Grand Slam since Rod Laver back in the 1960’s, and a win will also push him past Federer and Nadal to have the most Slams of any male player in history at 21–I was incorrect yesterday; when I looked up the Slam leaders yesterday the list I saw was from earlier this year, before the French Open, and of course, Djokovic has won two more slams since that list was made. And how cool was it watching young Emma Radacanu become the first qualifier to win a major tournament? And she was cold as ice as she eliminated tournament favorite Leylah Fernandez 6-4, 6-3. What a terrific story; I am looking forward to watching both of these young women continue to play and exhibit greatness on the tennis courts.

I did run an errand or two–getting the mail, picking up a prescription, a quick grocery run (the stores still aren’t fully stocked yet, but I did manage to get some things I needed, even as I forgot to buy bleach yet again)–but really have decided to stick with my original plan of checking out this weekend and trying to get rested, with the plan to be rested and relaxed and fully operational going into this coming week. I am going into the office tomorrow in an attempt to get back on track and back to normal–whatever that may be, who knows at this point–but as always, after a paradigm shift and reminder than everything is a delicate balance that can be upset at any moment by factors beyond my control, it’s going to take no little time for me to get my act back together and my feet firmly planted on the ground.

I did manage to spend a little time with Velvet Was the Night, which I think I am going to spend some more time with today as well. There’s a very short window for the gym today, only open from 10-2, so am not sure if I will have the time to make it over there to get in a quick workout. I think my body rather needs one, to be honest, but it’s all going to depend on time and energy and how I feel…and I am not entirely sure it’s the best idea to go, frankly. Another rest day where I conserve energy and let my batteries kind of recharge themselves might be the best way to go–even as that little voice in the back of my head keeps whispering you’re getting older and you’re running out of time, every day you don’t write or get back in shape is a wasted day you’ll never get back–but seriously, that little voice can also go fuck itself, seriously.

But tomorrow–tomorrow is another story, tomorrow is the first day of the return to some semblance of normality around here, and I honestly don’t think spending another day resting and getting my head together is a wasted one. I need to listen to myself, listen to my body, listen to my brain, and besides, there’s plenty of mindless tasks around here that can be done–the sink is full of dishes again, after all, and there are other things I can do as well, besides watch the Saints and the US Open and read.

And really, a day of rest never did anyone any harm, right?