Category: crime fiction

Downtown

Sunday morning has rolled around again, and I am feeling pretty good. I slept well again before Sparky decided it was time for me to get up, and he let me sleep later (after he started) without much of a quibble. (I like to pretend he cuddles with me in the mornings before I get up because it’s nice; I know it’s because he wants to know the minute I get up so he can start meowing at me to come downstairs with him.) The closing ceremonies for the Olympics are today, which is a shame, as I always love the Olympics. There really is nothing more patriotic-feeling like rooting for young athletic Americans on the wolrd stage, is there? The fact that this was going on while the tides of our election have seemingly all turned to the positive has really been something. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what patriotism is and what it means to be patriotic–and not in the least little bit because the Right has made patriotism so distasteful and embarrassing. I am seeing the crowds at the Vice-President’s rallies moving to take patriotism back from the Christian Nationalists (the flag, the USA chant, etc.) because what they call patriotism is actually anything but. But the Democratic National Convention is going to be pretty thrilling this year, methinks, reminiscent of another dark period coming to an end–the 2008 election ending the nightmare of the eight years of right-wing control and endless wars and lies. I know I am actually excited about the election now, and while the fear and dread are still there, there’s a lot of joy and optimism.

And what an amazing Olympiad this has been, the haters and agents of darkness aside1! so many great stories, so many redemptions, and so much fun to watch and enjoy as always. It also felt different; maybe the fucked up 2020 Tokyo Olympics caused a reset; it didn’t feel like an Olympics and now, all I did was (besides root for our athletes) be happy for the all the competitors and medalists–I finally developed the proper Olympic spirit that doesn’t villainize great athletes from other countries. I never liked that whole xenophobic need for the US to win the most medals to prove our superiority as a nation; I do not want to be anything like the Nat C’s. Probably twenty years ago I might have hated, for example, Rebeca Andrade as Simone’s biggest competition–but this time around I simply enjoyed her skills and abilities and applauded for her just as I did for our gymnasts. I think I have finally unpacked and emptied the last of my conditioning as an American.2

I had a lovely relaxing day yesterday. Paul and I watched Challengers, which was interesting, and then caught up on House of the Dragon, The Serpent Queen, and started watching the second season of the show with Rob Lowe and his son on Netflix, which is cute and funny. I can’t think of the name of the show, but the first season was pretty pleasant and fun, so I hope the second season isn’t a disappointment. Watching these shows about royals struggling over the throne and power put me to thinking, again, about actual history, and of course the Catherine de Medici story, which I’ve always enjoyed. The banker’s daughter who became queen of France and mother herself of three kings and two queens. The show jumped from actual history to nonsense toward the end of the first season, and this second season is diverging dramatically from what actually happened; Queen Elizabeth never visited the French court, nor did Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (who actually abdicated and died before Catherine’s husband, Henri II) and likewise, his son Philip II did actually marry Elisabeth de Valois, but it was at her wedding celebration that Henri was killed. And they are starting to set up her daughter Margot’s story, which is also endlessly interesting to me. I’m still reading Rival Queens, the story of the mother-daughter relationship during one of the most treacherous periods of French history. I was also thinking about how people always say George R. R. Martin based A Song of Fire and Ice on the Wars of the Roses; but there’s another series of French histories called The Accursed Kings by Maurice Druon, focusing on the years 1310-1337, about the end of the main branch of the Capetian dynasty and the rise of the Valois branch–and the Hundred Years’ War. This aspect of French history–the lead up to that epic war–isn’t as well known, and I tore through that series when I discovered it at the Emporia Library as a teenager. It’s a great series, a fascinating time in French history (there are many fascinating periods in French history), and you can probably see why I love French history (and France) so much.

I’ve also been thinking, not only about the book I’m writing now but the next Scotty, too. I’ve renamed it Hurricane Season Hustle (saying party instead of season seems like asking for it, frankly), and started coming up with ideas for the plot. I have also been thinking about my short stories in progress, and I think I’ve come up with any number of ways to fix the ones I want to get fixed. My goal is to finish the short story collection this month and get it out of the way while working on the new book. Football season will be here before you know it, which will start taking up my weekends, so I need to be starting to get back to the grind of everything. I did do some cleaning yesterday around the house, too, and plan to do some more this morning before I go make groceries at Rouse’s. I can’t decide if I want to make steak fajitas for dinner, or pepper steak.

I did read a short story yesterday, “The Amateur of Crime,” by Stephen Vincent Benet. It’s an old story, Benet is a famous writer not known for his crime stories, and it was interesting, if a bit…I don’t know, unrealistic? I have found that non-crime writers who write crime short stories for whatever reason always seem to go for the “huh?” solution to crimes. In this case, the amateur detective on the spot is helped by any number of coincidences that also happen to give him the knowledge to solve the crime (there was a Faulkner crime short story that’s solution had to do with cigarette smoke trapped beneath a radiator…again, not realistic), which seemed contrived to me. But it was an interesting story, and again, reading it gave me some ideas how to fix some of my own in-progress drafts, or the ones that are finished but need revision.

There’s always so much writing to do.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for the day. I do need to make a grocery list before running over to Rouse’s today; nothing major, a little run to get stuff for lunch and to make dinner a few nights this week. But for now, I am going to get cleaned up and do some filing and so forth, so I bid you adieu for now, Constant Reader, and I hope you have a marvelous Sunday.

  1. Hilariously, a while back when I did one of my Pride posts about how white women have always been the worst homophobes, a friend asked me why I didn’t mention the Chatelaine of Castle TERF, and I replied “she gets her own.’ But she is so evil and awful and horrible so regularly that before I can finish writing about her, she’ll do something even worse. Her behavior during these Olympics, along with the haters she’s embraced, was especially egregious and awful. ↩︎
  2. I sometime want to write about this, and the American mythology I was raised to believe that wasn’t the truth but something taught to justify white supremacy. ↩︎

Crying in the Chapel

And here we are on a glorious Saturday morning, feeling rested and relaxed and pretty good this morning. My coffee is tasting most excellent, and my kitchen is already clean this morning. I had a good day yesterday. I did my at-home work and then ran some errands before coming home to do some cleaning around here. This morning I am up relatively early and feeling good. I got all the laundry done, and am about to clear out the kitchen sink again before going to work on the floors. I do have to leave the house today later; I have to get charcoal and some other things, and might as well pick up the mail while I am out. Next weekend I am taking Monday and Tuesday off for my birthday, which will be very lovely and cool. And now that my deductible is paid off for my insurance, I can get all this other health stuff (dermatologist, arthritis doctor, bone density test) taken care of before the end of the year. I also need to see an eye doctor and get new glasses.

Obviously, I need a to-do list.

And it was super-great to see Algerian boxer Imane Khelif win the gold medal after all the incorrect and disgusting hate directed at her because the Chatelaine of Castle TERF decided that Imane wasn’t woman enough for her to compete in women’s sports, and so the evil Sith Lady decided to humiliate and embarrass an athlete on the world stage just because she could and she felt she wasn’t getting enough attention. How…Trumpian of Joanne/Robert! And refusing to admit she was wrong because of course she can never be. After all, she is a wealthy woman, and as we all know, billionaires are never wrong. It really is amazing how much people think making a lot of money somehow gives you some kind of moral authority to comment on things that do not affect or impact you at all. At least more people around the world can now see just how awful she actually has become–or has hidden her true horrible self successfully for so long and has become so narcissistic that she believes her own beliefs should be adapted without challenge. It’s also Elon Musk-like, as well.

At least the Olympics accomplished two things: they gave me a lot of trash to block on social media, and also got me to finally delete my Twitter account. I do not miss it in the least.

Today is the Red Dress Run, so the city (especially the Quarter) will be filled with people in red dresses, day drinking. I don’t do the Red Dress Run, obviously–it started up after I stopped going out every weekend and stopped drinking fo the most part–because it’s simply too hot and if I was out drinking in the heat in the morning and early afternoon it would take me about a week to recover from it all. Not cute.

It’s really amazing what a good mood I woke up to this morning. It would be awesome to wake up feeling like this every Saturday morning, believe me. I’m definitely going to work on the kitchen this morning, and I am going to spend some time reading this morning as well. I started reading a short story at my doctor’s office last week, and I need to finish reading that as well as get back into the book I’m reading (I’m not mentioning the title because I don’t want it to sound like the book isn’t good; it’s entirely on my malfunctioning brain that I’ve not finished it yet; I need to prime the reading pump a bit today to get it going again). I also no longer have this sense of impending doom that’s been hanging over my head since the rude awakening I got about my country and fellow citizens in 2016; thank you, Harris-Walz presidential ticket! And not having that dark cloud in my brain–the sense of hopelessness and mistrust of the heterosexual majority in this country–has been marvelous. It’s not over, and we’re going to have to work really hard to make sure that darkness doesn’t win here. The UK and France are doing a great job of taking down their fascist movements; may we follow the world trend towards freedom and equality. It’s nice to feel hope again, you know?

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for a while today. I am hoping that today will continue on this high note, and I hope that it does for you as well, Constant Reader. I may be back later; I am working on several other entries that will go up on Substack and possibly here, too. I guess we’ll just have to see how the day goes, and how much cuddle time Sparky will demand.

Wooly Bully

Friday and working at home. I have a team meeting at ten on-line this morning along with other various work-at-home duties; I also have errands to run later on when everything is finished. I feel rested this morning, despite getting up so damned early (Sparky was very insistent this morning), and so while I swill my coffee and wake up, I can hopefully do some things around here, too, before I get to work. The kitchen isn’t nearly as bad as it usually is on Friday mornings, so I don’t have to start there this weekend to straighten up the house, which is very exciting. I’m going to try very hard this weekend not to succumb to the temptations of doing little to nothing. The boil water advisory was lifted yesterday, and today’s heat index will max out at 109. I was able to come straight home after work yesterday, which was really nice, and I spent the evening getting caught up on the day’s news before switching over to the Olympics. I always hate when they come to an end, and they really are uplifting and fun to watch; inspiring. (I bet there will be a lot of Olympic romances published next year.)

I do have that figure skating short story…it’s kind of noirish. Maybe I should revisit it?

The next Olympics will be in Los Angeles, just like in 1984. I lived in California then, and to this day I regret not applying to work at the games. But…it was a different time and a different world, too.

I came to the conclusion last night that part of the problem I am/was having with writing Never Kiss a Stranger was that old one-two punch of writer’s brain: fear that I’d fuck up telling the story, and fear that it won’t be the book that I want it to be. Which is absurd on its face; and haven’t I felt that way about every book I’ve written more than once during the process of creating the story? Maybe it’s different for the big names, but I am never fearless when I am writing something. I’ve never heard any of my friends who are writers I deeply admire and respect ever feel a lack of confidence in their work, or in their ability to tell the story they want to tell. I think that is definitely something I need to work on, and I don’t feel afraid about writing the book now, so hopefully that is progress. I think taking this Olympic break from writing was perhaps one of the smartest things I’ve done as an adult. I am itching to get back to it, I let my mind rest and heal, and my body had settled into my routine at long last. Likewise, I have to get back to reading every day, so I can get caught up on my reading, at least from this year. I am so far behind on so many of my friends’ and favorite authors’ books; but at least I know that I have some great books to read through the end of the year. And yes, I think I am going to do some reading this weekend.

I kind of feel good about things. I like that I am establishing boundaries, and enforcing them. I like that I am digging out of the hole and rut and everything else of the last few years. I like my life now that I have time to kick back and enjoy it, and relax without guilt. I like my job, I love writing, I am finally getting the apartment into a nice, comfortable living space by clearing out the clutter so no one will have to after I depart this world. I am back learning how to cook new recipes, and having quite a good time doing so. The heat is tiring, of course, and that also affects how I get things done after I get home, but the summer will be ending fairly soon and then I can get back into the swing of some other things, like regular workouts and things of that nature. I am making progress on my debt, which is also pretty great.

So, on that cheerful and hopeful note, I am going to head into the spice mines. You go on and have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later on.

Paths of Victory

Wednesday morning and we’ve made it to the middle of the week. Yesterday was somewhat better than the day before–I felt rested, but my brain was still off-track a bit, and a little scattered. That may be because I forgot to take my medications before I left for work yesterday, and that always makes my brain chemistry a bit more foggy than it needed to be. But in other great news, yesterday I was able to get a prescription fight I’ve been having with my insurance company won yesterday; they finally authorized a daily med I’ve not taken since January, and this time the approval from my insurance is good through 2029–and who knows if I will live that long? But that hassle is finally over, and I am very pleased to say that now I know how to deal with my insurance, it’s not going to be a problem anymore. There are a couple of more things I need to take care of with my insurance, and then I can just settle in with it and everything should be smooth sailing from now on.

We’re in a boil water advisory here in New Orleans today; almost the entire east bank is in this. Yay. Will make showering interesting this morning, and I had already rinsed my mouth out this morning and cleaned my teeth, etc. So…if the water is unsafe I’ve already ingested some. Hopefully I will make it through to the weekend. The heat index will be about 110, so that’s not quite as bad as it has been. Yay? I get to come home straight from work tonight, which is lovely; I have a ZOOM meeting at six and I need to seriously clean up my kitchen; it’s an absolute disaster area and since it’s the only place I can do it…sigh. Maybe I can hide everything out of camera range? This is what happens when you get lazy once you get home from work. But just walking from the car to the apartment door is draining; the hazy lazy heat and humidity just sucks energy right out of you, and I hate that feeling of sweat about to breakthrough my scalp and try to get in before it starts and soaks me completely. I took a shower when I got home last night because I felt so miserable, but the rest of the evening was pretty nice as I caught up on the news and let Sparky sleep in my lap (he’s a very bad influence that way; just like Scooter, and I can never resist their feline wiles).

I did swing by the post office, and my preordered books had arrived, which was lovely. Again, too many good books piling up in my TBR pile, and I really need to stop bringing more books into the house before I get rid of some more, or at least read more of the ones on hand. The new Donna Andrews looks delightful, and I know Gabino’s new one is going to be very well written and very dark in tone and theme and style; he’s really very original and a one of a kind, which isn’t easy to do (trust me, I know all too well how hard it is to be original and a one of a kind, and I have not even remotely succeeded on the level he has with his work), and that’s probably one I will sit down with and read all the way through in one sitting–which means taking it on my next trip. If I can wait that long…

I’ve also been thinking a lot about my book and my writing lately; the enforced “no writing during the Olympics” is kind of making me want the Olympics to end! Given how much I love the Olympics, that is saying a lot. Football season is also on its way, which is always a fun time of the year for me. But ever since I started looking back, I’m starting to understand things more, things about myself and lessons I missed along the way because I was so busy moving forward. It isn’t painful to look back, really; my childhood and my teens were a long time ago, and I am trying to stop telling myself lies and/or gaslighting myself. I always say I won’t write a memoir because I don’t trust my memory and would be an unreliable narrator (which I have considered as a title for said memoir)…but the truth is no two people remember anything in the same way. Our memories of events and situations and things are all colored by our own experiences, confirmation biases, and values. I suppose, though, that those kinds of mistakes and remembering things through my perspective is always going to be different from other people’s…and let’s face it, nobody from back then is going to read anything I write anyway.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely middle of the week, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. You never know with me–I’m tricky that way.

Reach

Monday morning and back to the office with me. I feel rested this morning–it took me a minute to wake up–and good, like this is going to be a very good week for one Gregalicious. It’s also my birthday month, which is kind of fun; I’ll be sixty-three in a few weeks (note to self: take birthday and day before off for a four day weekend), and that’s not nearly as traumatizing as it could be, you know? I don’t mind getting older; I never really have and I also don’t care about being old. I joke about it, but it’s never serious. A gay man who was in his twenties during the 1980s and made it to sixty-three? There aren’t as many of us as there should be, and that’s not something I will ever get over, I don’t think. A quick glance at the weather lets me know that it will “feel like” 112 today; Debby is battering the Florida coast; and we won’t be getting any rain today. We didn’t have any this weekend, I don’t think. I went out into the heat yesterday to make groceries, and retreated home as quickly as I could. (The cost of groceries is insane–I cannot believe how much I spent for so little…thanks, corporate greed!)

I’ve been listening to a podcast in the car the last few days, and I am really enjoying it. I’ve never gotten into podcasts–I have never been known as an early adapter; sometimes I don’t adapt at all. I’ve never really understood podcasts, how to find them, or even how to listen to them. I did figure it out last summer (I did find some great ones about hauntings and legends of the South; i listened to one about Julia Brown and the destruction of Frenier, Louisiana, for my unfinished story “When I Die”), but again–when I am in town I am rarely in the car long enough to listen to something all the way through, which totally sucks for audiobooks; you can’t listen to a ten hour book in twenty minute segments. At least I can’t; I don’t remember things anymore so it’s hard for me to pick back up if I go a few days without getting back into the book. Memory is necessary for reading, alas, which is why I am having so much trouble reading these days. Maybe if I commit to a chapter per night? I’ve either got to start reading regularly again or I have to stop compulsively buying books. Anyway, I asked my supervisor last week what audiobook she was going to listen to on her long drive this past weekend and she replied, “I don’t listen to books because I worry I’ll go to sleep. I listen to podcasts.” I of course then expressed my geriatric usual response to the word “podcast” and she recommended one to me, which I started listening to on the way home from work Thursday. It’s hilarious. It’s called “My Dad Wrote a Porno”, features three Brits (two men, one women) and that is what it’s about. One man’s dad wrote a porn novel, and each episode is his son reading one aloud and the three reacting to it. It is amazingly hilarious because…well, because the writing of the book, Belinda Blinked, is hilariously campy and bad. (It’s also a real book, for sale on Amazon.) I’ve been listening in the car non-stop, and we’re only up to chapter three. Apparently, there are eight seasons, so this should entertain me in the car for quite some time!

I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday other than the grocery run, finishing the final season of Elite (the first three seasons remain the best), which was a bit satisfying but…they did leave some of the characters with dangling stories, so it’s entire possible they could do spin-offs, but the only spin-off I want to see is one with Carla (Ester Exposito), but that ship has sailed, alas. Tonight we’ll watch more Olympics (we did last night, too); it is unbelievable how much of a good mood the Olympics puts me into. These games also seem a bit more special this time around; the 2020 ones were kind of messed up, taking place in 2021 with no crowds, so we’ve really not had an Olympics like usual since 2016. The athletes seem to really be grateful to be there; losing gold and settling for either silver or bronze isn’t coming across as “disappointing” or “losing.” Gold medals are rare, and fluky things happen at the Olympics; which is part of the excitement. You never know who’s going to become a star during the games (if someone had told me that a nerdy pommel horse specialist from Worcester, MA would capture the hearts of the American public, I would have laughed). So many amazing stories in so many different sporting disciplines…so inspiring, and the athletes are just wonderful. Just being there is a win, let alone getting a medal. I would just be so thrilled to be there I don’t think any disappointment would stick for long. I will be sorry when it ends, but am very excited the next games will be in Los Angeles! Woo-hoo! Our time zones so we can watch live!

I really do feel bad for the people who’d rather be angry than enjoy the spirit of sport and athletic excellence from young people who’ve trained their whole lives for this moment and celebrate healthy competition, but those people tend to find no joy in life and just want to make everyone else as miserable as they are. Misery loves company indeed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, and I may be back later; one can never be certain.

A Man Without a Dream

Wednesday has rolled around yet again and here we are with Pay the Bills Day again. Woo-hoo! That was sarcasm, by the way; I feel pretty confident that I am not going to be thrilled once I finish paying them this time around. Yay. (It’s one of those times when almost everything is due out of one paycheck. I have a nice cushion from the last one but still.) But I feel good this morning, and even got up without the alarm, which I’d forgotten to set! The lack of alarm obviously surprised Sparky, too, because shortly after I opened my eyes before six, he got into bed with me. When I didn’t react to the paw to my face, he curled up in a cat puddle, sighed, and went to sleep. If I could be certain I’d wake up on my own every morning, I wouldn’t even set the alarm because I feel much more awake and better today than I usually do when the alarm goes off and I hit snooze three or four times. I even stayed up later than usual, to try to catch up on the news. I ran errands after work last night–nothing big, just the mail and a short grocery run–and Paul got home relatively early enough so we could watch the Olympics, but too late for me to make dinner.

And of course, the Olympics were marvelous; it was so great seeing Simone Biles at the top of her game yet again, and the USA with the team gold in Women’s Gymnastics again. When I remember how hopeless we were with both teams back in the 1970s–and any medal seemed like an impossible dream. Now, the silver in 2020 was a “disappointment” because the women are expected to take the team gold every Olympics. It was so great watching them, and I always enjoy the crowd shots of Simone’s NFL player husband, keeping track of the scores so he doesn’t have to wait for the updates! They have a very special relationship, which is great to see. The gymnastics teams really made me happy this year, and I am so proud of them all!

So glad I’m not a sad bitter Christian who wants to eliminate joy from everyone’s life. I love the Olympics, you know? I always have, and one of my favorite things is seeing someone whose been under the radar from public view for their entire athletic career, and then have a shining Olympic moment in the spotlight and become instant stars. We’ve seen that happen already with the men’s gymnastics team; they are all adorable and their joy in winning an Olympic medal will inevitably be one of my favorite moments of these games. And of course, everyone is in love with Stephen Nedoroczik, who’s definitely having a moment, and good for him. (I also remember some athlete saying once that it’s better to win bronze than silver; silver just reminds you that you didn’t win; whereas bronze you’re delighted to have a medal at all.)

After the Olympics, I stayed up longer to watch Pete Buttigieg on Monday’s The Daily Show and the Vice-President’s speech in Atlanta. I thought I was going to regret that this morning, but seriously, so far so good, you know. Paul and I were talking about this during the Olympics; the last week has been the first one in almost a decade in which we weren’t experiencing some kind of existential dread about the future, which is both tiring and tiresome. It’s so nice to have hope again, even if it’s just a quicksilver dream disappearing through my fingers. There’s a lot of work to do, there’s a lot of excitement and optimism, and while I love President Biden and what he has managed, he couldn’t get this kind of excitement going anymore. And I don’t mind being wrong about him stepping aside either–mainly because I was so terrified of what might happen if he did, and despite the fact that it turned out better than I could have ever hoped, the Fucked-up Four (MSNBC, CNN, New York Times, Washington Post) are still on my shit list, and I doubt even the impossible dream of winning control of Congress too could get me to go back to them.

I’ve not really done much writing lately, and I think it’s probably best not to pressure myself too much at this time and look at it as “I’m taking an Olympic sabbatical from writing.” I don’t have a deadline–there are some anthology calls I am thinking about writing something for, but we’ll see how that all works out in the long run. I wanted to submit something to the Malice anthology open call, but the deadline is today and I seriously doubt that anything I have on hand could be punched up, corrected and revised and sent in by midnight. If I didn’t have to go to work today, maybe I could get it done, but I do have to go in and I’m not going to kill myself to write a story for an anthology.I kind of don’t want to ever have to basically kill myself to finish anything on deadline ever again.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; you never know!

Mary, Mary

Hey there, Tuesday. How are you today? Yesterday wasn’t bad. I didn’t feel awake completely for most of the day, but I also think that had a lot to do with calorie deficits. I didn’t eat a lot over the weekend because my mouth was sore, which made biting and chewing hard. It wasn’t so bad yesterday, but I was so hungry all day, and I am sure that had a lot to do with feeling run down and tired. My mind was sharp, though, for the most part. I just felt like I needed to lay back down for another half-hour or so, if that makes sense? I did have a productive day at the office, though. I also managed to get the book outlined up through where I’ve written, and I also reread the most recent two chapters. Chapter Three needs a sex scene at the end, and Chapter 4 needs a strong revision before I move on to Chapter 5; but I didn’t know that until I reread and outlined, so we are ahead of the game for the moment right now.

The question about the sex scene is how to write it. From the very beginning, I’ve written very explicit, matter of fact sex scenes, because I wanted the reader to experience it in the same way the characters are experiencing it. My sex scenes are too graphic, athletic, and sweaty for most readers; it’s why I never tried writing a romance novel. They want prettier, frillier, more romantic sex scenes rather than the graphic depictions of what it’s really like, which is how I write them. I’ll probably write it graphically, and then tone it down and make it more palatable to modern tastes, I suppose.

Which reminds me, is mary still a gay slang term? I’m never sure about these things, and now that we’re more aware of how problematic things we took for granted are once we unpack them, I have to wonder about things like this. Mary was always a kind of slur for gay men, but we took it back and reclaimed it…and it became a kind of shorthand for gay men–“muscle Mary,” etc.–and sometimes you’d use it to address someone (“let it go, Mary”) but I was never sure where that came from in the first place, in all honesty. Hamburger Mary’s is a very well known queer restaurant chain (I love eating at the one in Palm Springs). Gay men always called each other “gurl” or “she” and so on; I’m not sure if that’s still okay or not. I don’t see anything offensive in it, but I am also not trans, and so not the best judge of that sort of thing. I don’t know where mary came from and why gay men used it with such abandon, but it has something to do with blurring gender lines with gay men–and since we weren’t “men” the way society defined them, so we started using female pronouns and adapted other non-masculine language for use. Gay men often use gendered slurs for each other without offense–slut, whore, bitch, hooker, skank–or second thought.

At least, we used to. I don’t know if we still do. Like I said, it may be problematic, and if people see it that way, then we should let it die and never mention it again.

But I will say this: it was never, ever intended to mock or insult women, just like drag wasn’t and still isn’t. It was mocking masculinity, if anything. Drag mocks and critiques gender roles, the same thing feminists have fought from the very beginning, and if you think gay men are your enemies1… I’m not going to tell women what is or isn’t misogynist, but lumping gay men in with straight men as misogynist sexists is also misandrist and homophobic. And you don’t get to tell me you’re not, either. See how that works? If you get to tell me I am a misogynist, I get to call you a homophobe when you’re homophobic. (Some allyship only goes as deep as free drugs and drinks at the gay bar.)

And how awesome was it that the US Men’s Gymnastics team won the first team medal at the Olympics in who knows how long (Okay, it was 2008, but it seemed like longer)? (The women, of course, still have a shot at gold) They also were a lot closer to the gold and silver medalists, too–so it’s entirely possible the men’s team is going to start climbing and getting better the way the women did all those years ago. We certainly can hope, and that kid on the pommel horse is phenomenal. GO USA!2 Their joy was infectious, and that young man with the glasses (Stephen Nedoroscik) was absolutely adorable in a geeky kind of way; I think we all fell a bit in love with him after he positively nailed that pommel horse routine to lock up a medal.

And that is why I love the Olympics, and will never boycott watching them. I love seeing the pride and joy of the athletes, even the ones who don’t medal or make the finals in their discipline: because the goal is always to make it there, the dream is to get a medal. Naturally, America’s pathetically weak-faithed Christians got their panties in a twist over something they completely misunderstood, and had their anchors actually been given the proper information from their producers, could have explained the Dionysian panorama to narrow-minded morons like Candace Cameron Buré (just as much trash as her fucking weird-ass brother) and Rob Schneider.

I slept really well last night, and feel more rested and alert and energetic today than I did yesterday, which is awesome and great. The coffee is really hitting this morning, and I feel like I am going to have a really good day. Go figure, right?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines.

  1. It’s so much easier to attack gay men, who aren’t the ones who’ve spent millennia oppressing women, isn’t it? It’s always the gays who are at fault with straight white women for their oppressive tactics, isn’t it, and not their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons? ↩︎
  2. Unlike some of my “patriotic” fellow citizens, I intend to continue watching the Olympics and rooting for our young athletes. Call me weird, but punishing the young athletes for something they had nothing to do with doesn’t sound particularly patriotic or American, but I’m gay so what do I know? ↩︎

Valleri

And here we are on a Thursday morning. I kept getting confused yesterday about what day it was (all day) but that’s disorientation caused by working a full week in the office for the first time since maybe June? I don’t know, it just seems like I’ve had more time off over the last month or so than I usually do. Of course, I could just be a chowderhead who doesn’t remember anything anymore, but let’s hope this is not the case. I felt tired yesterday when I got off work, and had thought about heading uptown to run errands, but by the end of the shift I just decided to head home and do all of that tomorrow1. I am feeling tired this morning, and am waking up slower, which seems more normal than how I always feel tired at the beginning of the week and feel more energized as the week goes on. We’ll see how the coffee works this morning.

Ironically, I already feel more awake this morning since typing that sentence, which is very cool. I think we’re going to be slow today so I can get caught up on a lot of my paperwork and Admin duties.

We had a downpour last night–no thunder that I heard at any rate–and we caught this week’s Presumed Innocent, which was the finale. Spoiler–they did change the ending, despite the fact that the original book and movie are so old I doubt anyone has read or seen it, and those who did have forgotten, but I did wonder why they were redoing this if they were going to use the same big twist. I was on Youtube catching up on the news and also watching analysis from Generation Z political pundits–I really enjoy seeing young people so interested and so involved, and I see them getting really involved now, which is awesome. I have a very good feeling about this year’s youth turnout…and the kids are mostly not conservatives. I didn’t write last night because I was tired, which is shameful…but like I said, I was tired and Sparky was feeling playful. I should have known that once I get wrapped up in Sparky-time I wasn’t going to get anything done. I didn’t even do the chores I needed to do last night, and will have to do tonight instead. I also have to run those errands tonight after work, too. Heavy heaving sigh. I also need to make a to-do list for the weekend. I am doing pretty well with getting things crossed off the one I made for this week; which just goes to show how important making a list is for me. (The coffee is working, but I am fatigued and will be exhausted by the time I get home. DAMN YOU YESTERDAY GREG!)

I also plan to watch the President’s address to the nation last night at some point over the next few days.

I have to say I’ve been delighting in social media lately, which is a very odd feeling. Since Sunday night, my social media feeds have been absolutely delightful. Someone said they were joy-scrolling now instead of doom scrolling, and I have a feeling this is going to be very different this year. The Left is energized, and the MAGAts ain’t got nothing besides name mispronunciations, calling her a whore, and a “DEI hire.” Um, you claim she slept her way to the top–does that mean she fucked the over seven million voters who voted for her in the Senate election? And the mobilization of the HCBU’s and the Pan-Hellenic council? I think the American public–the majority of it at any rate–hates the ugliness and the smears and the slanders. For the MAGAts, nastiness and jeering mockery is the appeal. They feel like they’ve been overlooked and mocked and by gum, them libtards are going to pay! Engaging in a battle of wits and scorn with them is a complete waste of both our times, really; I’ll always go lower but smarter. On my way home from work yesterday I saw one of those Viagra trucks–you know, the ones that start at $70k and are basically luxury cars with a bed instead of a trunk, and cost about $100 to fill the tank weekly? His back window had a massive TRUMP decal across the top, with Make Liberals Cry Again. Usually I just roll my eyes and pity the women in his life; or get super irritated. Yesterday I laughed at his impotence. The truck at least had mud spattered all over it, so it actually is a utility vehicle for him rather than cowboy cosplay (which is what it usually is). Yesterday it just made me laugh, as I pictured him out in his yard with a razor scraper taking that off in November, red-faced and furious and thinking the country is doomed. GOOD.

Make liberals cry again. Like MAGA is the fucking adult in the room rather than a toddler throwing a tantrum blaming everyone else for their problems. It wasn’t liberals who took an electoral loss so badly they stormed and vandalized our nation’s capital, but sure, we’re the crybaby sore losers. Sorry you all are incapable of rational or logical thought, and are so narcissistic and self-absorbed that you vote against your own best interests as long as you think you’re screwing a minority. You really want no more social security or Medicare?

There’s no guarantee, of course, but there are just over a hundred days for them to smear the Vice-President. They don’t have thirty years of baked-in smears and lies like they did with Hillary Clinton. All they have is racism and misogyny and insults…no policy except the vague, broad descriptions of how beautiful and perfect everything will be, as corporations and oligarchs get even more tax breaks, with the full burden of taxes falling on the working and middle classes. Foreign countries didn’t fear and respect him, no matter how many times Sean Hannity trots out that sad, pathetic and tired trope. He was, and is forever, Putin’s bitch, and there’s a Russian thread through their entire party. They cozy up to Putin and Russians (Look at Moscow Marge 6B’s, proudly spouting Russian talking points), and how is that in our best interests? Would Ronald Reagan buddy up to Putin?

Not in a million fucking years. I can only imagine Nancy Reagan, rebranded as a high-brow sophisticated society matron from the lot-whore she was in Hollywood in the 1950s, sitting down to dinner with the Trump family. (Best potential SNL sketch ever–wait, no. Second best, because the best would be the dedication of the Trump Presidential Library.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday. I may be back later, but you never can be sure.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

  1. And yes, this morning’s Greg is really annoyed at yesterday afternoon’s Greg. ↩︎

Star Collector

And now it’s Tuesday. It’s a bit gloomy outside, and we’ll be getting rain again today (it’s been a very hot wet summer thus far), but I am awake and ready to go while I am sipping my coffee this morning. It also tastes quite good, I might add. I slept decently last night, and feel pretty good this morning. We have a light clinic schedule today, so I hope to be able to get caught up on paperwork and things today around said schedule. Woo-hoo!

Yesterday was a pretty good day, over all. I had a nice day at work in which I got a lot done, and then came home to chill out and relax with Sparky. I went through the manuscript, and didn’t have to do anything to chapters one and two (they need a revision, of course, but that can wait until the whole draft is finished and I start working my way back through it again) after all; it was chapters three and four that needed restructuring and pulling apart. I did the pulling apart and slapping back together last night; I need to reread the two chapters and revise them and make them flow more smoothly before I move on to chapter 5, I think. We’ll take care of that tonight, methinks. I am excited to be writing again, which is always a lovely thing.

We did watch another episode of Those About to Die, which I am not loving, but it’s a light entertainment, and it has a pretty good cast. Like Spartacus and all its iterations, there’s a lot of muscular men and some homoeroticism with some gay characters–not loving the way they are depicted for sure, but my internal jury is still out on that. I am still having trouble focusing on reading, but am hopeful I can make a breakthrough on that this weekend. I just keep getting more and more books that I am dying to read, so having “reader’s block” isn’t helpful as far as that is concerned. The new Ellen Byron is out today, starting a new series set in the California mountains that I knew so well from living there in the Big Valley1 and being close to all the major mountain parks like Kings Canyon, Sierra, and Yosemite. In fact, both Sorceress and Sleeping Angel are set in those mountains, in a town I loosely based on both Oakhurst and Sonora, so in some ways I am going back to my roots by reading her new release. I’ve not written about living in California very much here; I am currently writing a very long entry about my love/hate relationship with Kansas, which briefly flared up over the last weekend. The thing about me is that, despite being crazy and unbalanced and all those lovely things that come with my chemical imbalances, that no matter how miserable I was in the macro sense, in the micro sense I always wanted to have fun so I wouldn’t have to think about how miserable I was until I got to the point where it was overwhelming and miserable, and the thought that that was how I was going to have to live for the rest of my life was unimaginable.

The closet is a horrible, strangling thing.

And yes, I will probably write about living in California at some point, unless I run out of time, which is always possible. I could get hit by a bus on my way home from work tonight–oh, last week, traffic driving home was absolutely miserable; it took me forty-five minutes to travel what is usually a fifteen minute drive last week, but last night I got home in slightly over ten minutes and there was no congestion anywhere, which was peculiar. Hoping that holds true for tonight.

I also have to say I am feeling a lot better about the world in general these last few days. I am actually feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time, and think we might be able to save this ship from sinking into fascism. I also am delighted the media has exposed itself for the craven opportunists they really are–the mask dropped forever–and it will be a long time before any of them will be forgiven by me. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

  1. Yes, the San Joaquin Valley is The Big Valley of Barbara Stanwyck television fame. ↩︎

Goin’ Down

Monday and back to the office this morning, woo-hoo! Yesterday was an interesting one. I got up later than expected, did some chores, got cleaned up, and had a book breakthrough, so huzzah for all that. It rained most of the day, heavy downpours around thunder and lightning. The power even flickered once. Sparky and I spent most of the day cleaning and doing bits and pieces and odds and ends while I was thinking about the book and coming up with some answers. I love rainy days when I can stay in the house, you know? Paul went to get a tattoo, and that was when I worked on some essays and picked apart my book, and then he brought a pizza home from Midway on Freret (they are most excellent) before we started watching Those About to Die, which is interesting but…a bit disappointing at the same time. But there’s queer rep, and we’ve already seen some male nudity. The CGI isn’t terribly good and is kind of obvious, which pulls me out of it when it happens, but overall, not bad at all.

Yesterday the mega donors and the news media, along with rich old white men like George Clooney, David Axelrod, and Rob Reiner got their wish (along with the party donors and the news media) and President Biden announced he would not seek the nomination of his party at the convention. My spirits sank immediately, particularly since the racist old fucks never said “step aside for KAMALA HARRIS the vice president” but made it plain that not only did they want the President gone, they wanted to pass her over. Within an hour, though, the endorsements started coming in as the rank-and-file of the party (you know, the voters) started getting inspired and money started flowing and by the time Paul got home, I was excited again1 and ready to get out the vote and donated…to her campaign, not the DNC. From now on, only the candidates I am supporting will get a donation from me directly, no more party donations or PAC donations or anything like that for me. Y’all blew it, as far as I am concerned.2 I also love that Beyoncé has already endorsed the Vice President, and can Taylor Swift be far behind? There’s going to be a lot of racism and misogynistic bullshit being flung from the right for the next three months, and the conduct of the news media during that time will have to be monitored to see if they are on a redemptive path. If not, I never have to watch or read them again and will go with either the Philly paper or the Los Angeles Times.

I feel inspired now, and hopeful. We can do this and save the country, expand the Supreme Court to mitigate the Trumpian/Heritage Foundation damage to the judicial branch, and pass some goddamned laws. We also need both chambers–and there will be, undoubtedly, Manchin 2.0 and Sinema 2.0, and the Pass the Torchers certainly cannot be trusted to act like Democrats. And I will say, as much as I have always liked Joe Biden, I love Kamala Harris. She was my candidate in 2020, and was bummed when she dropped out, and thrilled again when President Biden selected her. I love that we now have the dichotomy of a convicted felon running against a former prosecutor. The right is scrambling now–all of their anti-Biden plans and ads and everything now have to be scrapped while they try to come up with attacks on her. It’ll start with her not being a citizen, of course–alas, we still have birthright citizenship in this country regardless of Project 2025 (which is already being test-driven in Louisiana)–and then the law and order party will no doubt attack her as a cop, which is far too easy to counter–so it’s all going to boil down to her being a biracial woman. You know who else’s parents weren’t citizens? The first nine presidents. There will be all kinds of legal fuckery coming, too–since they can be certain of a favorable rubber stamp from their operatives on SCOTUS, but for some reason I feel much better this morning. I still don’t trust the media at all, but…there are other and better sources that didn’t spend the last four years dragging down the man who saved the country.

As for the book, as you may have noticed, I’ve been having trouble moving on with the fourth chapter because I am at a stopping place for the chapter but it’s not nearly long enough as it is, which means restructuring the first four chapters again. This chapter, for example, can begin in the previous one–where the chapter ran further than I should have allowed it–and it won’t kill me to pull these first chapters apart and put them back together in a better order than I already had them in and perhaps then I can move on. This is a good idea, and it’s been so long since I’ve written a book where I had the time to sit and think and realize I have to go back now in order to move forward–usually I just have to bulldoze through it and hope it all plays out in the wash–which is probably another reason I feel like my work could be better. More time doesn’t mean better, of course, but the stress and anxiety I usually feel from writing a book on deadline feels pretty fucking marvelous, to be honest.

And on that note, I think I am going to get cleaned up and head into the office. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back later.

  1. But make no mistake, the Pass the Torch people are on my permanent shitlist and I will never forgive them. I’m still carrying a grudge against Susan Sarandon from 2000. I will carry a grudge to the fucking grave. ↩︎
  2. I, for one, will never forget that it was Biden who got President Obama to change his mind about marriage equality. ↩︎