Category: diversity

Automatically Sunshine

Monday, and my body clock–which had finally adjusted to me getting up early for work–is now all messed up again. Thanks, Daylight Savings Time, thanks a lot.

I woke up yesterday determined to get things done but that eventually didn’t happen, sadly. I started off the morning thinking, ah, I’ll read for a little while and then I’ll get going on my day but instead I got sucked into the book I was reading, and by the time I finished The Twelve Jays of Christmas, it was around three in the afternoon and I was… not fatigued or tired, but the malaise kind of set back into my day and it was rather unpleasant. I wound up getting sucked into war coverage, and finally caught up on Superman and Lois before eventually going to bed. I slept deeply and well and woke up this morning reluctant to get out of bed and get my day started. My body’s natural tendency–Greg’s natural tendency–it to default to laziness and doing nothing; a body at rest and all that, and my body and mind definitely wanted to stay at rest this morning. In fact, even as I sit here drinking my coffee and listening to the washing machine run, the bed is calling for me to return and burrow back beneath the covers and close my eyes, even though I am awake. But I have work-at-home duties to do, and later on I have to finish this final edit on my manuscript and start working on editing another one for someone else. I am getting closer to being caught up and getting big projects out of the way, which is lovely on the one hand, but on the other hand it is still incredibly daunting to have so many other things still hanging over my head.

I don’t know what it would feel like to not have something hanging over my head, though, so I am not sure how I would feel were that to ever happen. Knowing me, it would cause me stress and make me worried that no one is interested in any work from me anymore.

The weather has gotten cold here again, which isn’t conducive for me wanting to get out of bed in the mornings, either. It’s not as bad, obviously, as it is other places–we didn’t have a snowpocalypse, at least, for which I will be eternally grateful–but I do love how we always get sucked into thinking winter is over because we have a really warm week of sun and high temperatures, only to get it right between the eyes. March is indeed a cruel month–wasn’t March the month they used to say “in like a lion out like a lamb” about? (I’ve not heard that phrase since I was a child) That reminds me–speaking of odious chores hanging over my head–I need to get my taxes together. Ugh, indeed an odious chore, and once again, like an idiot, rather than keeping track of my deductible expenses all year I need to compile them now. *head desk*

I never learn, do I?

I guess that is the one constant in my life.

So, this morning I need to make this week’s to-do list. I have the weekend’s sitting here in front of me, and I managed to get three of the seven tasks crossed off; I never ran the errands, which is why nothing else got crossed off. I should have done them when I finished reading my book yesterday but I was, as I said earlier, very apathetic once I finished reading the book. Then I need to get my work-at-home duties taken care of, and then I will run those errands to get them out of the way once and for all. I think I am going to read Robert Jones’ The Prophets next; that or Wanda Morris’ All Her Little Secrets. I also have the new Lisa Lutz sitting on my coffee table, which I am sure I will enjoy a lot as well–she’s never disappointed me yet. (I also found out over the weekend that the story I thought was due in early April isn’t actually due until April 30th; a bit of a respite that might help me simply spin the story out rather than try to write the damned thing in a massive rush the week it’s due…at least in theory, right?)

Heavy heaving sigh. And on that note, I am putting my miner’s helmet on and heading down into the spice mines. Have a happy Monday, Constant Reader.

Touch

Ugh, I must confess I am one of those people who despise the time change. I forgot to reset my alarm clock last night when I went to bed, so of course this morning I didn’t remember that I’d forgotten (yes, well aware of what I just wrote)

Sunday and I am debating as to whether or not to run the errands today I’d originally wanted to run yesterday but didn’t because of the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Yes, we pretty much will throw a parade for any reason here in New Orleans, and for those of you who are unfamiliar with the New Orleans St. Patrick’s Day parade, they do indeed throw things from the floats. Just like Carnival, they throw beads and cups and plush toys. They also throw potatoes, cabbages and carrots; the idea being you could catch the ingredients to make dinner at the parade. As for me, I’d rather not stand beside the street while parade riders hurl hard objects at me that could bruise or injure; given that my heel was bruised because my shoe insert fucking slipped the other day, imagine what would happen to me at a parade throwing hard objects at me. But now that I’ve gotten up and realized the impact of the loss of the hour…I’m debating whether or not the errands can actually wait until tomorrow after my work-at-home duties. I mean, I can’t get the mail today anyway, right, so I am going to have to go uptown tomorrow or after work on Tuesday. I do need to finish the final two chapters of the book revision today–I made some great progress yesterday, did I not?–and worry that running those errands could wear me out and put me out of the mood to work on it. Of course, there’s also no rule that says when I should run the errands; I could run them late this afternoon after I get the things I need to get done today completed.

Ooooh, doing something different. How not like me, right?

Yesterday was relatively pleasant. I worked on the book after I got up, did some stuff around the house, started reading Donna Andrews’ The Twelve Jays of Christmas (one can never go wrong with Donna Andrews), and then last night settled in for a rewatch of 2010, the sequel to Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, which I rewatched during the pandemic (I’d also already seen 2010; we rented it one night in the 1980’s but got incredibly high so I really didn’t remember much of it other than it made 2001 make a lot more sense; just as the book cleared up a lot of the stuff in the original that didn’t make a lot of sense). One of the things that I always enjoy about watching old science fiction movies is to see what they were able to predict right about the future and what they got wrong; just like in 2001, in 2010 Pan Am is still around, as is the Soviet Union. Part of the plot’s premise is that the US and USSR are on the brink of war over Honduras; at the time the book was written and the film made it was inconceivable to Americans–anyone of the time, really–that the USSR was actually on the brink of collapse and wouldn’t survive in that form for another decade. I also had to wonder, wouldn’t Jupiter becoming a second sun in our system dramatically alter our orbit around the sun and our climate? Even though we are much further away from Jupiter than we are from our actual star?

It’s kind of hard to imagine Earth going from a one-star system to a two-star without any other impact.

Then again, I am not an astronomer, so what do I know? I did enjoy the film the second time around; I’d forgotten that young John Lithgow was in it, as was Helen Mirren as the leader of the Soviet space team.

I also read a marvelous two-issue crossover between two comics, Nightwing and Superman: Son of Kal-el, featuring the bisexual new son of Superman, Jonathan Kent (which reminds me, I am way behind on Superman and Lois). Nightwing/Dick Grayson remains my favorite DC Universe character; I hope HBO MAX will drop a new season of Titans soon.

And on that note, I think I’m going to read some more Donna before I get back to my own manuscript. Have a lovely Daylight Savings Time Sunday, Constant Reader.

Happy (Is a Bumpy Road)

I always try to give back however I can.

One of the reasons I do so much volunteer work is because I don’t have money to donate to causes I believe in. So, instead I give my time. I never say no to a charity anthology that wants a story, and I have done a ridiculous amount of volunteer work over the years. I don’t think I can remember, if I wanted to, how many charities I’ve given my time to since I started doing volunteer work. I’ve only had one job since 1999 that wasn’t working for a non-profit, so I’ve logged in a lot of hours working for non-profits as well. But the older I get the less energy I have, and I am trying to cut back on the stress in my life. I’ve been pretty successful–the insomnia is a lot less chronic than it used to be, for one example–and lately, I’ve felt a lot better both physically and emotionally than I have for a long time. I am currently pulling together the Bouchercon anthology for this year–the third time I’ve done the Bouchercon anthology but the first time I’ve had a co-editor, which has lessened the burden significantly–and this will probably be the last time I am going to do a Bouchercon anthology. I am kind of anthology editor-ed out; I think this will be my twenty-fourth go around editing an anthology and I really don’t want to do it again. It’s not an unpleasant task, really…I’ve got the organizational side of things so down-pat I don’t even have to really put much thought into it anymore, either. (It’s actually eerie how well I have the organizing of an anthology down to a science–but one should when it’s the twenty-fourth time you’re doing one. If not, you shouldn’t be doing it.)

I am almost finished editing the manuscript, which is great. Holes and discrepancies are vanishing, language is getting cleaned up, clunky sentences are being unclunked, and I feel much better over all about the book in general. I have to do some anthology work this weekend and I also have to start editing another manuscript that is due by the end of the month. I have a short story to write as well, and then I am going to try to spend April working on Chlorine while I try to plot the new Scotty, which is also starting to come together inside my mind. Doing this revision has helped me with my confidence and my imposter syndrome; I really felt like I’d lost the ability to write when I turned this book in. I wasn’t wrong about it needing work, but I was definitely wrong about losing the ability to write. Usually I have what I call the malaise when I finish a book–burn out is another way of putting it; but I don’t like the way writing a book burns me out sounds, frankly, because that makes it sound like I don’t enjoy it. And I do enjoy writing my books and stories. Sure I complain, but the complaining usually is rooted in the stress of the deadline and compounded by everything else I have to do.

I slept well last night, so well that I have a bit of a sleep hangover this morning that I hope the coffee will help with (it usually does). I am working at home today (yay for work-at-home Fridays!) and it does seem a bit gray outside. I’ve not looked at the temperatures yet or the weather forecast for the day. I won’t be going to the gym today because somehow at work on Wednesday I did something to the heel of my right foot; not entirely sure what exactly it was, but my heel has felt bruised ever since Wednesday afternoon; I think my shoe insert might have shifted and my heel was stepping on its edge, but it hurts and the later it gets in the day, the more it hurts. Walking to the gym isn’t an option for me today and driving just seems silly–especially since I shouldn’t really do any kind of leg exercise that involves my feet. So I am going to see how it goes over the weekend and try to stay off it as much as I can so that whatever I did to it will heal (my heel needs to heal!).

You also never really appreciate how important your heel is to walking until it hurts.

I was correct yesterday about being tired when I got home last night. I did the dishes and ran a load in the dishwasher, then repaired to my chair and watched news, alternating with documentaries (I delved back into the pool of French royalty, or French royalty adjacent, videos on Youtube last night. I’ve also been discovering a lot of gay royals in history lately, too. I really need to read a biography of Frederick the Great, and I’ve long been fascinated by the last of the Medici, Gian Gastone). I did go to bed early last night and slept later–I stayed in bed until seven, scandalous–and so when the coffee kicks in today I should be in a good place as far as getting things done and being productive today. I just wish my heel didn’t still hurt, which is enormously disappointing. One of the great joys of getting older is being more brittle and fragile, apparently. Still have to consider myself lucky, though–I could be a lot worse off physically…and it still freaks me out a bit when I remember that I am, in fact, sixty years old.

I still can’t find any evidence on-line that The Postman Always Rings Twice was tried for obscenity and banned in Boston. I’ve not been able to find any mention of it yet in the Cain biography my friend Laura recommended to me, either.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. There’s condoms to pack and data to enter and all kinds of chores around here to get done. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

Where Would I Be Without You Baby

Thursday morning at last, and the last day of the week in the office for Gregalicious. I didn’t have the greatest sleep last night–I seemed to wake up or be half-asleep a lot–but I don’t feel tired or sleepy this morning. I’m quite delighted by this, but we’ll see how I feel later this afternoon during that “day coming to an end” stretch. I also seem to have injured my foot yesterday. I don’t know how, and it doesn’t make any sense. Best I can figure I had my shoe insert not properly placed and walked on it till the heel bruised slightly, so I started limping yesterday afternoon. I reset the insert–I don’t understand how I didn’t notice that my heel was getting bruised until it was, it seems insane to me this morning–and that made it easier, but this morning it still hurts. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now I have to stay off it as much as possible until it gets better, which means no walking to the gym in the meantime. Sure I could drive, but that just seems kind of silly, since the gym is actually so close: yes, my gym is about a ten minute walk from my house but I drive to work out instead.

Yeah, not a lot of sense there.

The editing continues to go rather smoothly and am still making progress. I hope to have the whole thing re-edited by Saturday at the latest, and it’s a much stronger book now I think than when I turned it in. I also managed to get a lot of other work done yesterday–this has been actually a very good week for productivity–and I think I am close to being back on track and back to my old self (which always seems to jinx it, doesn’t it?). Yesterday I came dangerously close to zero email in my inbox; I am hoping to make that a definite reality come this weekend.

I got a copy of Cain by Roy Hoopes, the definitive biography of James M. Cain (one of my writing idols) for a project I had in mind–with books being banned and laws being passed to get books removed from libraries or access from those under eighteen, I thought it might be a good time to do a little research into the obscenity trial (attempted banning) of Cain’s The Postman Always Rings Twice, which is not only a great (if incredibly short) book, but incredibly influential for many modern day crime writers. Cain is one of my favorite writers, even if I don’t talk about him much, but I do; I love his work. Imagine my surprise to not be able to find out much information on the Internet about this banning; I believed it was “banned in Boston” (does anyone else remember that phrase? Just me? okay then). I found ONE link to a website discussing it, so naturally I reached out to my friends who are either aficionados or steeped in the history of our genre. The book arrived yesterday, and so I started looking through the index. Nothing. But there was a chapter about two court cases involving Cain that happened around the same time: an accusation of plagiarism from a woman who claimed he stole Mildred Pierce from her, and an obscenity trial for Serenade. And this morning I was able to find some things on line about the trial for Serenade…which also reminded me that I couldn’t believe Serenade hadn’t been controversial at the time it was published; I remember even thinking how did Postman get banned but this one didn’t? I just figured the failed attempt to ban the one resulted in the other getting a pass.

But I also have to say I am a lot more interested in researching the banning of Serenade than I ever was about the banning of Postman. Stay tuned!

So, today I get to come straight home from work (yay!) and I can do some chores around the house so I don’t to have to worry about that this weekend. The Lost Apartment is starting to look better–still messy and there’s still a lot of touching up to do–but if the more overall macro stuff gets done on the weekdays, on the weekends I can do the touching up. I really need to do the shutter doors to the laundry room and the ceiling fans (I hate to do this because I hate ladders and the fans hang so far down from the ceiling you can’t really use one of those long-reach blade cleaners because it inevitably makes them swing and I am afraid one of these days I will put the whole fucking thing down), and of course the windows around my desk need to be done again.

Heavy heaving sigh.

But on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader! And I wil check in with you again tomorrow morning on my work-at-home Friday!

Shine on Me

Sunday morning.

I got up again before seven this morning–despite staying up an hour or so later last night than I usually do; I was waiting, hoping Paul would be coming home, but he didn’t get home again until after I went to bed. I didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I would have liked because I got distracted by reading Kellye Garrett’s marvelous Like a Sister, and by the time I finished the book it was late afternoon and the tiredness I was feeling yesterday morning–I mentioned it, remember? I wasn’t as awake and alert as I had been the day before–I decided to just kick back and relax for the rest of the day. I watched a lot of history documentaries on Youtube; watched a lot of news worried about Ukraine; and then last night I decided to watch The Drowning Pool, a 1970’s film version of Ross Macdonald’s book–with significant changes made to the book–moving it to Louisiana for one (more on this later). When the movie was finished I went to bed, and woke up early again this morning (body clock has reset, for good or ill). I have to make groceries this morning, as well as gas up the car (can’t wait to see how much gas costs today; but I am more than willing to pay more to save Ukrainian lives, frankly) and head home for some more editing work. I am going to work on my manuscript today; and I have a manuscript from Bold Strokes I need to get edited this week as well. Lots of heavy lifting to get done this week, but I think I can manage.

I also need to select my next book to read. I’ve narrowed it down some; the leading contenders include Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead, The Twelve Jays of Christmas by Donna Andrews, The Prophets by Robert Jones Jr., and All Her Little Secrets by Wanda M. Morris. A plethora of treasures in my TBR pile, no? There’s also some short story collections and anthologies I want to start working my way through–not to mention a short story I need to write by the end of the month (see why I need lists?)–so I think once I get home from the grocery store I will most likely have to make this week’s to-do list. I also have some emails to write for sending tomorrow. But I don’t feel as paralyzed this morning as I usually am by a daunting pile of work that needs doing. We’ll see how I feel when I get home from the grocery store, though, I suppose. Usually dealing with the groceries wears me out and I am pretty much useless afterwards; I don’t know if that is actual physical or mental exhaustion or laziness settling in. I know that my energy levels have significantly decreased over the past pandemic years, and sometimes I do wonder if it’s maybe Long COVID; exhaustion and loss of energy seems to be one of its leading symptoms, and of course, both tend to trigger depression, which creates a massive downward spiral. But I keep testing negative for it, so what do I know?

So, The Drowning Pool starring Paul Newman as Lew Archer, renamed Lew Harper in the movie, and the location was moved from southern California to Louisiana for some reason. The movie is very cynical, so it definitely fits into my Cynical 70’s Film Festival, but it’s not a very good movie. (I’ve read the book, and while the family structure of the film seemed familiar, there’s a lot of significant diversion from the book.) One of my favorite parts of the movie is one of those things Louisiana/New Orleans people always point out in movies and television shows: the geography makes no sense. Harper is summoned to New Orleans by an old flame, whom he meets in a Royal Street antique shop for some reason. She doesn’t anyone to know she’s hired him, so why would you meet in the Quarter? The airport is in Kenner; why would you make him drive all the way into the heart of the city when you could have simply met him at a lounge or bar out near the airport, where they would be a lot more anonymity? Anyway, the old flame (Joanne Woodward, wasted in a role far beneath her talents) has gotten him a room at a motel in the small town she lives in, and she runs off, promising to be in touch…and here is the weird Louisiana geography part. He leaves the Quarter, takes the causeway across Lake Pontchartrain, eventually crossed the river in Baton Rouge, and then winds up somewhere in swampy Acadiana. That’s all fine…but why would you take the causeway to the north shore to get to Baton Rouge when I-10 heads directly there from New Orleans? He added at least another hour to his trip by crossing the lake. There’s another scene where he’s tracking someone down, following his girlfriend as she gets off the St. Charles streetcar, crosses the street, and enters a home. Harper later refers to the man’s “apartment in the French Quarter”–um, the streetcar doesn’t run through the Quarter, it didn’t in 1975, and it was clearly St. Charles Avenue (there are several more of these, in fact; the bayou area near the town was clearly filmed in the Manchac Swamp). The plot is convoluted and didn’t make a lot of sense–blackmail, Joanne Woodward’s husband is a closet case, someone has stolen an account book from a local oil baron’s company that exposes their pay-offs and bribes and other illegal activities–and Newman, while handsome and charming, doesn’t really put a lot of effort in the role. Your mileage might vary, of course, but I found it to be disappointing. The only thing about the film of note was very young Melanie Griffith playing Woodward’s nymphet teenage daughter…and I kept wondering how old IS she to be so sexualized in a film? But it was also the 1970’s…in catching up on the 1970’s films I’m constantly amazed at how much unnecessary nude scenes for women there are, or gratuitous sex scenes that add nothing to the plots in these films. But I also appreciate the grittier, more realistic if cynical point of view of the films; there’s nothing pretty or noble about humanity in these movies…which also kind of explains how “hopeful” movies like Rocky and Star Wars were so enormously successful during the latter part of the decade.

And on that note, i think I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

But I Love You More

And just like that, in a snap of the fingers, it’s Friday again and I am working at home. Huzzah? Huzzah!

I have apparently reset my body clock at long last. It took until age sixty plus a few months, but I woke up this morning without the alarm at just before six. I chose to stay in bed until seven–it was very comfortable under my blankets this morning–but I am now out of bed, drinking my first coffee, and feeling pretty well rested and wide awake. I have, as always, a lot of things to do today (some errands to run, work that needs doing, chores that are overdue) but right now I am feeling like I can get it all done without a problem; that’s undoubtedly incorrect–at some point I’ll get derailed or hit a wall or something; it happens every time–but right now I am going to roll with it most happily. I’ve managed to keep up somewhat this week with the chores, so the Lost Apartment doesn’t need as much attention as it generally does as we roll into the weekend; but maybe that’s because we had a truncated work week (thanks Fat Tuesday!). Either way, I want to see if I can build on that and get more things cleaned–the other stuff that I never manage to get to; like dusting picture frames and so forth. I suppose we shall see.

And I might even be able to get caught up on everything. Ha ha ha ha, it had to be said, right?

So my goals for this weekend are to get through my to-do list and make a new one. I have editing to do and writing to do and decisions to be made about my career and my future–always a daunting subject, always put off for another time because i don’t want to deal with it–and hopefully, this weekend will be an opportunity. As I said earlier, I feel more rested this morning than I have in a long time–rested and relaxed–which means, at least for now, that I feel like I can do anything and everything and I can conquer the world, which is a nice feeling…I know I can’t realistically take over the world, but it’s always nice to feel like I can if I wanted to, you know? I definitely want to finish reading Kellye Garrett’s Like a Sister this weekend; it’s quite good, and it feels good to be enjoying reading again. I’d intended to do some reading when I got home from work yesterday, but was very tired–drained, really; it was one of those days at the office for some reason–and so I just kind of hunkered down, let Scooter climb into my lap, and watched history videos on Youtube about Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine’s history. I want to spend some time this weekend figuring out my new Scotty’s plot and subplots–I want this to be a labyrinthine story, ever more so than Royal Street Reveillon was–and I also need to figure out what else I need to be writing this year, and there’s so much else that needs to be caught up on…heavy heaving sigh. But rather than feeling defeated, this morning I feel like I can get everything done and it’s just a matter of rolling up my sleeves and getting to work, which is always a lovely feeling, frankly–and one I’ve not felt in quite some time. Yay? Yay.

Definitely yay.

So right now before my first work meeting of the day I have laundry going–it’s launder the bed linens day, after all–and have to unload the dishwasher. I need to make a grocery list. I need to work on my to-do list and create a new one. There’s always organizing to do around here (my computer files are finally starting to get it together, but there’s still a very long way to go, sadly), and there’s always another chore somewhere that I’ve not noticed (or have ignored for so long that it now escapes notice and seems normal for whatever it is to be the way it is–not a good thing) and of course, I need to get my taxes and stuff together. See? These are things that should be going on my to-do list, rather than being written about here. But that’s just the way my brain bounces around, you know? But it does feel nice to have shaken off the cobwebs and that aching bone-tired feeling, as well as the clouded brain thing. (I shudder to think how much worse this week would have been had I actively participated in Carnival as much as I have done in the past…yikes indeed.)

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and try to get some things done before the work meeting. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader; I certainly intend to!

Everybody’s Got the Right to Love

Thursday morning and my last day (of only two) in the office this week. I went to bed early again last night–I was surprisingly productive when I got home from work last night, which was a pleasant surprise–and woke up well before my alarm again (I did stay in bed until the alarm went off, though), and so am pretty well awake this morning as I drink my coffee and prepare to face another day. I still have an insane amount of work to get done today–over all, in general, what else is new, right?–and frankly I’m just hoping to be able to keep everything in at least a holding pattern until this weekend when I can make serious inroads. I never got around to making that to-do list yesterday, which catapults it to the top of what I need to get done today, really, and so I’ve got to really buckle down and focus and do what I need to do.

Yesterday I managed to get Kellye Garrett’s Like a Sister in the mail, and I started reading. As Constant Reader is aware, I’ve had issues reading lately for pleasure, and with Kellye’s book in hand, I decided to sit down and give it a shot. I was a few chapters in before I knew it, and regretfully had to put the book aside so I could do some chores that needed to be done. And of course, by the time I was finished with the chores I was tired and Scooter wanted to sleep in my lap so…I decided to try watching the news, and then found something else on television to watch to try to distract me from that…but it didn’t really hold my attention and finally went to bed early. I finally saw someone last night on the news talking about the history–finally–and why Ukraine…Kyev in particular… is so important to Russian leadership. It goes back to Peter the Great’s desire to make Russia a world power–access to the Black Sea being crucial for trade and for naval matters–because Russian history dates back to the days when Kyev was the capital of the Kyevan Rus; Kyev eventually fell to the Mongols and the Russian nation retreated north. The dream has always been to restore the empire that once was; the Russians have always considered themselves to be the heirs of the Eastern Roman Empire and Moscow to be the third Rome (Rome being the first, Constantinople being the second–tsar or czar is a Russianization of caesar). Ukraine is the heart of the Russian nation, and its true homeland…so a Ukraine independent of Russian control flies in the face of everything Russians have always believed about themselves as a people and as a nation. (It is lovely to see how much the Russian people hate and oppose this war, though.) Ukraine and the Black Sea were always the goal of first Peter the Great and then Catherine the Great….Putin sees himself as one of those great leaders, hence the need to return Ukraine and Kyev to Russian control. I don’t know how this is going to end, and I fear many of the possible outcomes…but I am also glad I have a smattering of knowledge about Russian history.

I’m not sure why I’ve always been drawn to Russian history, art and culture–particularly since I grew up in the shadow of the mushroom cloud with the idea that Soviet Union was the ultimate evil empire drilled into my head daily–but there it is. A friend bought me, as a birthday gift, a reading with a psychic (I’ve had two of these in my life–the second was a tarot card reading after we moved to New Orleans); it was an interesting experience. She kind of just read my past life history–but it was interesting. In my most recent past life, according to her, I had been nobility in Russia at some time in the past. I had a good, fruitful, productive life, and in my old age retired to a monastery. It was interesting–because I had always been drawn to Russia (and yes, well aware that I could never live in Russia; way too cold, of course)–and there was no way she could have known this; it’s not one of those “read body language and facial expression” things most psychics do; in the tarot reading the answers to my questions were ambiguous enough so they could be read as pretty much fitting anything. (This has been on my mind as I’ve been writing a psychic character lately in my short fiction–and of course, Scotty is psychic, although I’ve not really done much with that in the later books in the series.) But I’ve always been interested in Peter the Great, Catherine the Great, Nicholas and Alexandra…the Romanov dynasty and Russia have always interested me. (I highly recommend any of Robert K. Massie’s Russian histories and biographies of the czars.)

I also need to get revising my manuscript and start working on “Solace in a Dying Hour,” which is due in early April. Sigh, so much to do. But I was really proud of myself for doing cleaning chores around the apartment last night–I even vacuumed–so the apartment looks sort of better; at least neater than it has in a while. Tonight I’ll fold the clothes in the dryer and put the dishes away from the dishwasher, and hopefully can carve out some time to read more of Like a Sister–it was very hard to put down last night; it’s really good, y’all–and of course, I don’t have to get up before dawn tomorrow so can stay up a little later tonight if I want to….although going to bed early has ceased to be a problem for me lately.

And on that note, tis back to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely and marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will talk to you again tomorrow.

No Matter What Sign You Are

Happy Mardi Gras! Everywhere else it’s just Tuesday.

It’s a beautiful day and I feel rested this morning. Granted, I’ve felt rested every morning for the last six or seven days upon arising only to run out of proverbial steam and become exhausted by the late afternoon–yesterday was another one of those; once I ran my errands and did my work I was burned out and worn out by five pm; there was no Orpheus for us last night–so we’ll see how things go today. Ukraine still seems to be standing this morning, which has been on my mind non-stop these last few days since the invasion started, and I really need to block that out. I’ve been thinking a lot these last few days about the other places in the world being visited by the horrors of war and oppression (the Uyghurs in China, Yemen) and how those stories aren’t (or weren’t) being covered with the same kind of blanket 24/7 reporting. That saddens me, as it does send the signal that Americans don’t care about Uyghurs or Yemenis, but do care about white Ukrainians.

Even when it comes to foreign policy, we can’t escape racism, can we?

Today is a day off, obviously and I am going to take full advantage of that. I am going to try to finish writing that story this morning–it’s been a struggle–and I am going to be productive and effective today; which means closing social media completely and only checking in periodically when I take a break from working. The house is a mess, filing needs to be done, and I am going to use today as an organizing/writing/get caught up day. I am going to not bother with emails this day because that is exhausting and I don’t want to get off track. I don’t hear either Zulu or Rex down at the corner–I’ll probably wander down there at some point–probably when I am barbecuing lunch–to get an idea of crowds and so forth.

Paul and I watched Toy Boy last night after he got home from work–I was actually half-dozing in my easy chair when he got home–and we have only two episodes left. It’s very strange and different this season from the last; there’s a new villain (and he is sexy as fuck) and the restructuring of the corrupt wealthy people who run the city in order to deal with this new threat has been interesting. Lots of sex and nudity, lots of male strippers in bikinis, but some also seriously strange side subplots that indicate that the producers and writers may not have a real idea of what they are doing. The gay couple from season one is hardly in this at all, and their relationship doesn’t make any sense this season at all; them meeting and falling in love while dealing with rejection and mental illness and disability was quite powerful in season one; this season they aren’t doing much of anything and are hardly in the show at all, which is disappointing.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and while I am always sad to see Carnival end, this year was a bit bittersweet. I only went out to King Arthur to see friends; we went to Muses to get Paul’s shoe (mission accomplished) and I went to Iris on Saturday; a significant difference from our usual “out there every night” type parade season. But I never felt entirely comfortable out there in the crowds–it’s going to take a while before I stop thinking everyone is contagious–and of course, this year was a more difficult one for Paul with his events at the end of this new month; people having to cancel because of nervousness about traveling, etc. I always look forward every year for the festivals to be over–I worry about Paul’s long hours and stress levels–but I think this year more than any other year I really want to get to April intact. I tested myself for COVID this morning and I am not infected; I will test myself again tomorrow before I go into the office just to be certain, and probably will again this coming weekend. I always wear masks in public anyway, so even if I am contagious the odds of giving it to anyone else are decreased; and I wash my hands (or use hand sanitizer) a lot. But I will be really glad and happy once the threat has finally passed, you know? I don’t know if this is how we are going to be living from now on, or if work is going to continue to change or evolve or go back to what it was before the pandemic (which I rather doubt); everything is still uncertain, and uncertainty isn’t something humans–especially this one–cope with very well.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and get to work. Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

The Young Folks

It’s a work at home Monday, and it’s also Lundi Gras. Orpheus rolls tonight, and tomorrow is the Mardi Gras holiday. Yesterday was one of those days that started with good intentions, but somehow exhaustion took over at some point and nothing got done. We did end up starting the second season of Toy Boy on Netflix–which is even more insane in its second season; you’ve got to hand it to Spanish Netflix–and I spent most of the day glued to my chair watching war coverage from Ukraine. While all of my sympathies are entirely with the Ukrainian people and their amazingly courageous president, at the same time I am disturbed by scenes from the border where white Ukrainians are being given priority to cross while non-whites are being held back. This doesn’t seem to be an issue with the country they would be crossing into, either–it’s Ukrainian border guards doing this.

But American exceptionalism and white supremacy weren’t born or created on this continent, it’s a disease the European colonizers brought with them, and it has flourished here ever since. It saddens me to see that even in a terrifying time such as this, with their cities under attack and the Russian military within their borders that Ukrainians can still perpetuate such behavior…although it’s really not all that surprising. I don’t know how bad or widespread the problem is; but I believe that it has happened at least on a small scale, and I hope once the situation is better there we can get to the bottom of what happened at the borders.

Today I have errands to get run, data to enter, emails to send and a short story to work on. We may go out for some of Orpheus tonight–it depends on how we feel, how the weather is, and numerous other factors are involved as well, but we’ll see. Orpheus is one of my favorites, and it will feel strange to not see it, but…it will depend on my energy levels, how cold it is, and how much of this story I get finished today. I also need to start editing my manuscript; that’s going to the top of the to-do list I am going to make today (I never got around to it yesterday–I told you I was in a malaise yesterday for some reason I cannot understand) and I am also going to start making notes on it. I think there’s a better way to tell the story–to get the reader involved sooner–and there are other things I need to strengthen in it as well. I have to get to work on the Bouchercon anthology this week, and there’s always MWA stuff to get done. But hopefully I can kick it into gear. I’ve not been eating a lot lately–I usually have been eating things in the morning and perhaps snacking later–and that has to change. A lot of that has to do with Paul’s insane schedule currently; I never know when he’s going to be home or if he is, whether or not he’ll want to eat or not and, as always with me and my eating issues, if I don’t eat when I am hungry the hunger fades and I wind up not eating. That. Has. To. Stop.

If for no other reason than I need to eat for energy.

I have had a bagel with cream cheese already this morning, and I also need to go through the refrigerator as I make a list for the grocery run to come this morning. I have some cheese-stuffed chicken breasts wrapped in bacon to make for tonight’s dinner, and tomorrow I will probably fire up the barbecue and make burgers. I also am feeling weirdly at sea the way I always do during the crank-up of parade season–disconnected from the world–because everywhere else everyone is going about their usual normal Monday while here…it’s an entirely different subject. It’s disquieting, to say the least, but it only lasts until Wednesday. And yes, we have a strangely truncated work week–Wednesday will feel like Monday; making it even more difficult for me to adjust to my new “in the office” schedule, which I still hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. Sigh.

Ah, reality.

And on that note, I am going to start digging through everything and getting my day going. Thanks for checking in, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Why (Must We Fall in Love)

Muses Thursday! Will our streak of getting at least one shoe per year continue? Watch this space!

I signed a contract for Scotty IX yesterday; Mississippi River Mischief, to be due on December 1st. Within two minutes of signing said contract I began doubting myself and the Imposter Syndrome kicked in–not really a big surprise, it always happens and is lurking in the back of my mind somewhere. What will I write this about? Another homophobe who is a closet case? AGAIN? But the story I want to write is based on something that actually did happen here; only I am moving it from the New Orleans suburbs to my stand-by fictional parish, Redemption Parish, out on the bayou lower river area. I do need to come up with some other plots–there’s some Colin stuff left over from the last one that I kind of need to delve into this time around–and no, this is not a pandemic book. There will be a pandemic book at some point–I think the shutdown/home quarantining times makes for an interesting situation for a murder mystery; kind of a locked room kind of thing–but I am not there yet. There are at least two more books for Scotty I want to write before Quarter Quarantine Quadrille–and of course, the story of the death of the Krewe of Nyx is simply too good of one to pass up. (Their “parade” was last night.)

Naturally, I didn’t attend the White Supremacy Lady Klan parade last night, and apparently neither did many other people. It was fun following NOLA Twitter as the entire city dragged the racist skanks and their joke of a parade for filth last night. When I got home from work last night, there were hardly any people out on the route–which was unusual, and I was able to find a parking place right in front of my house–a half block off the parade route, without a problem less than two hours before the streets closed. (Tonight is Muses, and I will probably be able to park no closer to my house than Coliseum Square if I am lucky) If you are unaware of the KKKrewe of Nyx, two years ago after George Floyd’s murder their captain posted “All Lives Matter” bullshit on their social media. (She’s also a grifter, and the creation of the krewe–which was created because the waiting list to get into Muses is years–was really a way for her to make money; there are any number of lawsuits and embezzlement investigations going on too) Some of their riders proudly threw Confederate flag beads in 2020; and there was a push for them to throw “Forever Lee Circle” beads with medallions featuring the image of the Traitor Lee on them this year to protest the removal of the statue that never should have been put up in the first place, and despite the fact that the only people supporting them (“the majority,” as they regularly claimed) were racist garbage, refused to apologize, refused to back down, and then screwed over the women who left the KKKrewe in droves after the racism scandal, literally going from 3400 members to 240; a loss of over 90%.

Yes, you fucking bitches, you also suck at math because if over 90% of your krewe quits then you can be relatively certain your opinion isn’t the majority. Imagine, in this day and time, being that unrepentantly racist and thinking you can parade in New Orleans and people will turn out. (Not that there isn’t racism here–there is–but the city is also majority progressive, and majority Black.)

Just the thought of them polluting St. Charles Avenue with their presence makes me angry.

But that shit is over, and we can go back to enjoying Carnival while hopefully, those bitches are spending today thinking about how an entire city turned their backs on them and their hateful messages. I rather doubt it, but I’d love to hear how they rationalize an abandoned parade route somehow meant they represent the majority opinion. And for the record, that statue is gone for fucking good and is never fucking coming back, bitches–because it’s our city and we don’t want to keep honoring treason. Especially after 1/6/21.

So, yes, lots of material there for French Quarter Flambeaux, isn’t there?

And on that note, probably time for me to go into the spice mines. Fingers crossed we get a shoe tonight!