Category: diversity

Bongo Rock

Today is two things–the start of hurricane season and the start of Pride Month. I have a Pride post that I definitely want to finish and post at some point, and I’ve not really decided what kind of entries I want to do–social media and here–to mark the month. I still think the thirty-four convictions of Greg Stillson was the best gift for Pride American queers have ever been given, to be honest, and I still am a little in shock that it happened–trial and verdict. And of course the traitors have all lost their treasonous little minds, too–my personal favorite is “if they can do this to him they can do it to anyone!”

Um yes, that’s precisely how laws and the judicial system work–no one is above the law in the United States.

Period.

I way overslept this morning, but we stayed up super late last night watching Bodkin (we only have two episodes left to go, and it’s really interesting; much more complex and clever than I’d originally given it credit for) but I wound up not getting into bed until midnight, and I didn’t get up until about nine thirty this morning. While I wanted to sleep in, I didn’t want to sleep in that late; I feel discombobulated and like I won’t be able to get the things done this morning I wanted to get done–but that’s just loser talk, methinks, and a way to give myself excuses for not taking the books to the library sale or washing the car or picking up the mail and dry cleaning or go to the gym. But now that my coffee is kicking in, I’m feeling more alive and awake and like fuck yeah I can get that shit done, get out of my way.

Always nice.

Yesterday was a good day. I worked at home, got all that done while laundering the bed linens, and ran my errands, did some cleaning around the house and later in the day we had a massive and marvelous thunderstorm. I grabbed The Rival Queens (my current nonfiction read) and spent some marvelous time with it in my easy chair. I do love that period of time, and I’ve always wanted to write about an adventurous fictional woman who was a member of Catherine de Medici’s Flying Squadron; an accomplished seductress spy, navigating the complicated politics of France during the Wars of Religion and the decline of the Valois dynasty. It was truly a fascinating period, not only in France, but throughout Europe. My next non-fiction read will probably be The King’s Assassin, the book on which Mary & George was based, and that’s another fun period I would like to write about. Someday. There really was nothing like the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries for upheaval and Game of Thrones-like cutthroat politics.

I also watched LSU’s thrilling baseball win over Wofford in the regionals yesterday, and they play again today at 4. GEAUX TIGERS!

I also looked at the submissions call for the story I am working on–thinking the deadline was May 31 only to discover it was actually June 1, which means I can let the story sit a while longer before revising it one more time to see if I can make it stronger. I am very pleased with how it’s going so far, and looking forward to getting some more writing done today. I am a little behind on my schedule thus far (the one I made earlier this week, remember?), but the deadline being later certainly has made that a bit simpler and easier to navigate without feeling pressure.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. I’ll most likely be back later–that pride entry I want to write–and I also need to think about what kind of entries to do for Pride Month. Anyway, have a lovely Saturday, and I’ll check in with you again later, okay?

My Wish Came True

The big news of yesterday is that I actually revised, copy-edited, and finished a short story last night. Woo-hoo! The deadline for the anthology is not until this weekend, but I think I’m going to reread it one more time and then go ahead and pull the trigger. The last story I sent out was rejected, so a sale would be nice this time around. But if not, I’ll just put my nose to the grindstone and try, try, try again. I can always put this into the collection–and writing the introduction to the collection is on my to-do list for this week. I think June is going to be here sooner than I was thinking–the holiday really has messed up my already fucked-up sense of time–which isn’t ideal, but it’s fine. I want to get this one manuscript finished in June–and maybe the collection, too–and then I can move on to my next manuscript.

See? I am starting to feel ambitious again, and that’s been a long-time coming.

I slept very well last night, too, which was a very good feeling and of course tomorrow I don’t need to set the alarm as it is Work-at-Home Friday for one Gregalicious. We started watching a new Netflix show called Bodkin, which is really quite enjoyable–the first episode wasn’t terribly promising, but it really takes off in the second episode and continues to build. It also has a lot more depth than it seemed to at first, and I am looking forward to getting deeper into it tonight. I also am going to try to do some more reading this evening, after doing some more writing. My next goal is to revise the prologue to The Summer of Lost Boys–probably tonight–and then tomorrow after work-at-home duties I’ll work on finishing the revision of “When I Die,” and this weekend I can get to seriously working on my next book. I came up with a very ambitious writing plan for the rest of the summer; so we’ll see how that works out. But–Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, it’s also completely do-able. There will be times, I know, when I will need to rest and not risk burn out again, and that could affect the schedule. The key is to be flexible, and not get down on myself, for therein lies the path to crippling anxiety and creative paralysis.

But damn, it feels good to feel excited about writing again rather than seeing it as an odious chore…especially when life sometimes feels like everything is an odious chore. I still have to try to fix the garbage disposal, which is irritating not to have, and I still need to really do something about the floors. I think if and when I get my tax refund, I am going to use it to buy a new vacuum cleaner, one that is heavy duty and not only will work, but continue to work with little to no maintenance. I don’t know what is wrong with my current one, but I am going to go through the manual and see if I can’t figure out how to get it to work properly; if that fails, I’ll be getting a new one. Big plans for my weekend, right? The excitement really never lets up around here, let me tell you.

The Louisiana lege, in an effort to create a state more repressive than Puritan Massachusetts, passed two bills yesterday targeted at queer people: a bathroom bill, and a “don’t say gay” bill, which are now heading to our Christo-fascist governor’s desk to be signed…and thanks to the illegitimate Supreme Court, these laws will likely be upheld. Thanks again, protest voters in 2016. So glad Hillary wasn’t “pure” enough for you–and everything she warned about that summer has fucking come true. I will never forgive protest voters in 2016, and no one else should, either. There is no telling what other horrors Republican state legislatures and governors are going to do, now that they know they have a joke court upholding all of their un-American and un-constitutional laws. Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas are making a mockery of the Constitution and legal ethics, and John Roberts either doesn’t care or applauding them behind the scenes–so he is also unfit for office. That’s three who need to go right there–and Kavanaugh, Gorsuch and Barrett shouldn’t even be there in the first place. So, hey, Susan Sarandon–miss me with your fucking ally-ship to my community, you narcissistic bitch. I will never watch anything with her in it–and that means never seeing some classic movies that mattered to me again, and frankly, I can live with it. Glad you don’t vote with your vagina.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines for my last day in the office this week. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader–unless you’re a Louisiana Republican, in which case you can rightly and justly fuck all the way off.

In the Mood

Someone really needs to do one of those music-themed crime anthologies built around either big band music, or the music of the Andrews Sisters; and In the Mood would be a great title for it, wouldn’t it? Don’t @ me, I’m not interesting in doing another anthology, thank you very much, praise Jesus and hope the creek don’t rise.

I was right; I got very mentally fatigued yesterday afternoon, and last night after we finished watching the second season of Euphoria, I was basically falling asleep in my chair. I’d swear we watched something else, too; oh yes, a stand-up comic special on Netflix, but I can’t remember the name of the comedian. I feel much more awake and alive today, which is a very good thing. I also feel a little bit behind this morning, and I am–not sure what that is about, but I am a bit off, too, I think, which is weird. But I enjoyed finishing the show–not sure if it’s coming back again or not, but the second season finale definitely wrapped everything up, so if it doesn’t the stories are pretty much finished for the most part. Zendaya was terrific–the whole cast, really; Paul and I were amused that the most level, centered and likable character on the show was Fez the drug dealer. Jacob Elordi is also memorable as sociopath Nate–casting beautiful people as monsters is genius, really.

I also didn’t write yesterday–the brain fatigue thing again, but at least this time it wasn’t the fog, you know? I do think I am starting to get back to normal, or what passes for it at any rate. It’s normal to be tired after not sleeping well. It’s normal to feel off after finally getting a good night’s sleep again. I was very tired when I got home, wasn’t I? I have some errands to run tonight, too–and tomorrow I am taking workout clothes for me to change into at work so I can go to the gym afterwards, see if this theory of changing at work and going directly there afterwards will work–we shall see, shan’t we?

One thing that I’ve been doing lately is submersing myself in the music of the 1970s, to help get myself more into the right space to write this book when I am ready to get started on it, and frankly, Top Forty music of the period–with a few exceptions–was awful and cheesy and terrible. So many novelty songs (“The Streak” by Ray Stevens jumps to mind, and there were so many others), so much cheese (Tony Orlando & Dawn, and so many other offenders), and some frankly terrible recordings surrounding the few gems that I don’t know how I listened to it growing up. But we did; both my sister and I always had our radios tuned into either WLS or WCFL for hours every day. I am trying to get the prologue to this finished this week, as well as revising another short story whose deadline is this weekend, and still really trying to get everything organized and sorted. I put some short story anthology call deadlines on my calendar yesterday, which was a nice start to get better organized, and I think, besides this book I want to finish, I am going to spend a lot of this summer trying to do more short stories. I also want to get the introduction to the short story collection finished by Monday, and a first chapter of the new Scotty done.

But my immersion in music of the early 1970’s–and other pop culture aspects of the time; television was also mostly garbage back then, too; thanks censors–also led me back around to listen to the eponymous first album by Boston in the car over the last two years, and it still holds up. It’s quite excellent, although I suppose it would be considered excessive nowadays; as rock music pushed boundaries in that decade and became more orchestral, especially in the second half of the decade. There’s not a song on that album that’s not a bop (in modern parlance), and it also put me in mind of other favorite albums from throughout my life–and making a list of them. I’ve always had a soundtrack album for my life, and revisiting music always brings back a lot of memories. Listening to the Billboard Top 100 of 1973 (awful as it was) made me remember other things–like Romper Room, Captain Kangaroo, Bozo’s Circus, and Ray Raynor’s show; the Saturday morning cartoons; and the horrible variety shows that were everywhere back then and finally died out in the early 1980’s. I really want this book to be good, and I’m going to have to go to a very dark place to write this book, too, and make it as real as possible…which is why I am immersing myself in the early 1970s. I am also reminding myself I can change things in the suburb to fit my writing needs; it doesn’t have to be exact, just as Bury Me in Shadows didn’t have to be correct about the homeplace. (My mind can be very annoying at times.)

But I feel good this morning, both mentally and physically. After work tonight I need to get the mail and make some groceries (not much, just a replace some things run) and then it’s home to write, possibly make dinner, and finish some chores. I am going to head into the spice mines now, so have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back probably later.

Kissin’ Time

Ah, the Tuesday after Memorial Day and back to the office with me. Such an exciting life I lead, don’t I? I didn’t sleep all that great last night, to be honest–the kind of half-sleep/sort of awake kind of nights, which I didn’t quite understand until I came downstairs to find my sleeping pill (Trazodone, if you’re keeping track) sitting next to my keyboard, where I left it last night. Mystery solved!

But as I wake up, I’m feeling better–more alive and awake than usual, but I imagine I’ll be running out of steam later this afternoon. LSU is in the Chapel Hill regional for the NCAA baseball tournament, playing Wofford. GEAUX TIGERS! I did do some other things yesterday, including finishing the dishes and laundry, and doing the floors. I think I need a new vacuum cleaner (I saw a meme the other day that said “now that I’m an adult I understand why so many prizes on the The Price is Right were appliances”, and yes, very accurate). I didn’t work on fixing the garbage disposal or get out the vacuum handbook for maintenance help this weekend, but it’s something that can go on the list for this coming weekend. I won’t have as many errands to do next weekend, if I plan properly; although I will need to go to the library to donate books.

I also managed to make it to the gym yesterday to start the arm-rehabilitation process again. I went back to the light-weight-one-set thing, worried about overdoing or re-injuring (my biggest fear, seriously) my arm…which seemed easy-peasy, but we’ll have to see if stiffness or soreness sets in any time today. But the stretching and exercise felt great, and I was on an endorphin high for the rest of the afternoon, which was pretty fucking amazing. We’ll see how long I can keep this up for…I am looking forward to re-acclimating and getting back into a regular workout routine by mid-summer. Huzzah!

I read Michael Thomas Ford’s story in the queer horror anthology We Mostly Come Out at Night, edited by Rob Costello. Ford’s story is called “Be Not Afraid”, which is what I recognized immediately as what angels say in the Bible when they appear before humans to bring them messages from God, and I love some Biblical based horror. But even better–it was a Mothman rural West Virginia story, set at Christmas, and what a delightful story it turned out to be. Ford is a master at voice, and writing sentences that make you keep reading on to see what happens next. His characters are likable and relatable and absolutely real, and it’s always delightful to read one of his stories–he always seems to write about people who are lost and become found, but not in a Christian way, if that makes sense; he writes lovely hopeful queer stories. In a just world he’d be more successful than most other authors…he’s one of those I think will be studied as a queer literary giant by future generations. He also always can do poverty in a way that isn’t moralistic or judgmental; you understand the characters and what they are experiencing, but not in an exploitative way. Highly recommended, and I am looking forward to reading the other stories in the book, too.

I wrote for a little while yesterday, too. I worked on something I’ve been thinking about over the weeks–The Summer of Lost Boys, which I think is going to be my next book, once I finish the current in-progress one–and I also did some brainstorming on the next Scotty book, which I am hoping to finish writing by Labor Day. It felt good to be writing again, even if it was so very little, and I think my creativity is coming back in a major way after being dormant for so long. It feels good when I write. The writing I did yesterday didn’t feel like it was garbage or anything, either. Here’s hoping that feeling continues, shall we?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and no doubt I’ll be back later–I am definitely making progress on catching up on blog entries, which is terrific–and so I bid you adieu for now.

Sea Cruise

Work at home Friday, and here’s hoping for a great day, and even greater three day weekend. I will inevitably wake up on Tuesday morning, asking myself as I swill my morning coffee how did I waste three whole days? When you’re a Gregalicious, it’s ridiculously easy, you can trust me on that. I slept really well last night, which is great. I also slept in an extra hour and a half this morning, and so looking forward to finishing waking up over my coffee and see where the day leads. I have a work meeting this morning, and all kinds of things to get done for the job today. I also have all kinds of things I want to get done this weekend, so I guess we’ll see how productive I actually am. We shall certainly see. I’d like to finish my reread of Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes, and I am trying to decide what to read next. I’ve got the new Stephen King short story collection and a new queer horror anthology should be arriving at some point. I think my next read is going to be either Kellye Garrett, Lori Roy, or Angie Kim, but we’ll have to see what strikes my fancy when it’s time to start reading.

Paul was late getting home last night, so I spent most of the evening trying to get chores done; I did get the laundry done and I have another sink full of dishes to get taken care of, and I would really like this weekend to be utilized trying to get the apartment into some kind of decent shape. I may need to change the arrangement of the work space, too–last night I was sitting here and all I could think about was how closed in and claustrophobic I feel the way it is now; I thought this would make it better, but I was incorrect and I am not even sure what I was thinking, either. I guess I can just blame it on fog brain and depression or something, because I was clearly not in my right mind–and frankly, realizing this made me feel like myself again, which was unexpected yet lovely at the same time. Maybe I am right and it’s all cleared out of my brain and my chemistry up there is working properly again. One never knows, does one?

Louisiana’s descent into Gilead took a few extra steps this week, as our disgusting theocratic legislature passed laws making morning after pills and other abortion medications controlled substances. I’m not exactly sure precisely how long it will take a woman needing one to drive and get one–if Florida’s ballot initiative enshrines abortion into their constitution, not terribly far–but they’ve also passed bathroom laws to punish transpeople for needing to use a public restroom; Louisiana has learned nothing from the lessons of the civil rights movement (or losing the Civil War–by the way, they are putting some Confederate statues back up in some parishes, too). I am excited because Helena Moreno, who is on the city council, is running for mayor and she is all about women’s rights and queer equality. So, will New Orleans continue to hold out against the repressive government up I-10 in Baton Rouge, or will Lawless Landry try to come for the city? MY guess is he will try to come for the city; it’s never gone well for Louisiana before but Republicans never learn, they just stubbornly wait and try again. There’s going to be a massive brain drain, too–already there’s a shortage of OB/GYNs, and our infant mortality rate was already high. But never ever expect a Christian or a Republican to ever think anything through, because they never do and they don’t care about future repercussions from their bad policy.

It’s going to be interesting continuing to write the Scotty series while we have a governor and legislature trying to turn the state into a reactionary conservative theocracy…thanks again, corrupt Supreme Court; and thanks again to all third party votes from 2016. We tried to tell you it was about the Supreme Court, but no. So miss me with your third party bullshit this time around, too. And thanks again to Susan Sarandon, for all your work to ensure Democrats didn’t get elected to the White House in 2000 or 2016–the blood from this court’s decisions is on the hands of everyone who voted third party in both of those elections…which is how Alito, Roberts, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and Gorsuch are up there stripping our rights away from us–so miss me with your “I’m too progressive to vote Democrat but I’m an ally to marginalized people!” No, you’re not, and I hope your moral purity sustains you if we lose this election–and it is as bad as Project 2025 spells out in precise detail. An ally to marginalized communities would never throw their vote away as a protest–that ability comes from your fucking SMUG white privilege. In fact, that is the very definition of egomaniacal selfishness. How clear will your conscience be when the deporting starts, or if they round up queer people? Make a sign and beat your breast on social media? Fuck all the way off, and I hope you enjoy every minute of hell when you get there.

Definitely feeling a touch feisty this morning, don’t you think?

It was also very fun watching the LSU baseball game last night, as they defeated South Carolina to make it to the SEC semifinals last night 11-10. They’ve now beaten three top ten teams in a row in the tournament, setting them up very nicely for a post-season run as they try to make it two national championships in a row. I love the college baseball post-season, but I think I got really spoiled last year by that exciting title run LSU made and accomplished–and I know that jello-shot bar is hoping the Tigers make it back to Omaha this year.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and start the dishes in the sink and laundering the bed linens. Have a great Friday, I may be back later as I am behind on posts, and if not, I will see you tomorrow morning!

Goodbye Jimmy Goodbye

Here it is Tuesday, and I am feeling okay this morning–awake and rested, if a little creaky (which is every morning these days)–and my coffee is really tasty this morning, which is lovely. I slept pretty well, other than the occasional sniffing/clawing/biting from Sparky, and I could have easily stayed in bed for another hour or so, but that’s okay. Functionality is perfectly fine.

We watched more Euphoria last night, and I have to say, we are really enjoying it. Nate is a monster, played beautifully (see what I did there?) by Jacob Elordi; but as wild and over-the-top as the show is, it’s also marvelously queer–and also shows the difference between a miserable existence that is completely a lie (Nate’s dad) to Rue’s unabashed, unquestioned bisexuality, and of course there’s a marvelous trans character as well, who is just as developed and three-dimensional and has an interior life as much as the others, which is terrific. Represent, HBO! I’m also a bit surprised that this show hasn’t been targeted by the right–drugs and sex and drinking and teenagers, oh my! But they never came after Gossip Girl either; selective outrage is never consistent, after all.

I did write some last night; it was all garbage, but at least it was something, right? Even as I was typing the words as they came to me, I knew it wasn’t any good. I had the voice completely wrong, and the words, which I’d intended to create a dream-like kind of mood (the way Megan Abbott does, so effortlessly), weren’t good either. It’s just a prologue, and it’s not the actual book I want to write quite yet, but at least it was something–and it was in my mind so much I couldn’t really do much of anything else until I got it out of my system. It’s only about 1500 words or so, and needs to be redone, but I can work on that while I work on these other stories I need to get taken care of. There’s a lot that has to go into this book, which is probably going to wind up being shorter than I had really ever thought about–it kind of needs to be, kind of quick and nasty and dreamy.

Now that I’ve finished Where They Wait (more on that later), I am going to go back to something I’d started before my trip, and then I have some others I’d like to get through relatively quickly; but I do have a three day weekend to look forward to; so hopefully I can get some other reading done, too. I know we are going to Costco this weekend–I need to make a list–and I also need to make groceries, but I’ll probably swing by the grocery store on my way home from work tomorrow since it’s Pay-the-Bills Day. I also want to get a lot of the apartment taken care of, so I can take books to the library on Saturday and I can also drop off the dry cleaning, which will be a lovely start towards making the living room look like a living room and not a fraternity dorm room.

I do continue to keep tabs on the Noah Presgrove case in Oklahoma; his autopsy report was finally released last week (why did it take eight months is another good question), and it’s brutal. I knew it was bad, but Jesus. He literally was beaten to death, and the injuries are horrific. I also became aware of another case yesterday–Tom Brown in Canadian, Texas–which is also weird, is also small town stuff, and Canadian isn’t very far from Comanche, Oklahoma…although I doubt the cases are connected, despite the proximity; poor Tom disappeared on Thanksgiving, and his remains weren’t found for almost two years. Skin Hollandsworth had done an eight-part series on Tom for Texas Monthly, which I will probably read over the course of the weekend. It also occurred to me last night that I have become obsessed with the murders of teenaged boys in rural America lately. But how many cases like this are there, where a teenaged boy (granted, Noah was nineteen, but that still counts) is murdered in a small town where everyone knows everyone, but no one knows who the killer/killers is/are? Come on, now. I’m not buying that for a second.

There’s no corruption quite like small town corruption, is there? That’s also uniquely American, I think, and tells quite a different story than all the “real America/Joe Sixpack” right wing bullshit they try to sell us, where every small town is Mayberry and good American values are still appreciated. Well, in my experience every small town is either Twin Peaks or Peyton Place, and if that defines America….well, we need to rethink that.

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

Killer Queen

Ah, my lord the Duke of Buckingham; probably one of the most successful fuckboys in history.

Contemporaries wrote of his physical beauty constantly when he was a young man, and first coming to the attention of his King; and while I’ve certainly never read any biographies of George Villiers, I have always been vaguely aware of him–primarily because of his role in The Three Musketeers, which is, of course, a marvelous fiction. While I have no doubt that George may have become enamored of the French Queen (the Hapsburg Spanish princess Anne of Austria) while in France arranging the marriage of Charles I to the French Bourbon princess Henrietta Maria (which, despite the success of the marriage, was a big mistake in the macro sense; the Stuart penchant in the seventeenth century of marrying Catholic princesses eventually led to their fall and the extinction of their direct line); without reading more into the history of the period, it’s hard to say whether that fiction of Dumas’ was based in rumor or was simply his own creation–but George was definitely a fuckboy, so anything is possible.

It took me until I was a bit older to realize the relationship between my lord Buckingham and his king was a bit more than just “best buddies.”

And even then, it took me a little while longer to recognize that the Buckingham of The Three Musketeers was also the same favorite of King James’. It was his son that was the bosom buddy of Charles II; he also was the cousin of Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine, one of that king’s longest running and most notorious mistresses (I named Chanse’s landlady after her, actually), so there were a lot of noble Villiers entwined with the destiny of the royal house of Stuart during the seventeenth century. Of course, given how language was blurred about Kings and their favorites in the histories I read, it never crossed my mind to read more into them until I was in my thirties (also, reading Cashelmara by Susan Howatch made me realize Edward II’s favorites also shared his bed…and then all the other pieces, about James I and Henri III of France began falling into place, even if their sexuality was determinedly erased from history.

So, when I saw the first preview for Mary and George, I was very excited. A series that actually isn’t afraid to address James Stuart’s actual sexuality, and that of his fuckboy, my lord George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham? Starring Julianne Moore and Nicholas Galitzine? Julianne Moore was clearly relishing playing the hell out of the ambitious let-nothing-get-in-her-way mother?

I was so in.

And in all honesty, I knew Galitzine was becoming a heartthrob/sex symbol, but with blond hair he reminded me too much of Macauley Culkin and I just didn’t really see it.

But as a brunette? Beautiful, and perfectly cast.

See what I mean? Sex on a stick, just like Buckingham’s contemporaries said.

I can see why historians tried so hard to erase the truth about the rise of the Villiers family, from lower nobility to a dukedom; the fact that Mary groomed her gorgeous son to seduce the king as a way to riches and power is not something you encounter frequently in the pages of history; especially in the modern age…but this was very common throughout history with beautiful girls…they were groomed and educated with an eye to seducing a powerful man for money, prestige, and power, and if the man was a king, even better.

Mary and George is pretty historically accurate, too–more so than many of these kinds of series, where things are changed for the sake of story, but the rise of George Villiers is dramatic enough, as well as all the court intrigue behind the scenes, but…the final episode to me was the only failure in the series. Even though I knew how it would all end, I kept thinking they’d come up with some way to make the end more dramatic, but that last episode felt rushed to me, didn’t have enough set-up to work as a finale and it just then kind of….ended. But the show is gorgeously produced; the costumes, the sets, and the acting is all excellent…until the last episode. In that episode, George has already been raised to duke…yet his clothes are the most drab of the entire season other than the first episode, when his preparations to be a fuckboy get underway. George was very famous for his splendid, ornate and opulent style of dress; he was always covered in jewels from head to toe, but for some reason they tried to make him look as drab and unattractive as possible. That certainly wouldn’t have been the case when he visited the Spanish court with the Prince of Wales (excellent casting; he looked just like the paintings of Charles I); it would have undermined English prestige to show up at the court of Philip IV so underdressed.

There’s also frontal male nudity, and lots of gay sex scenes. Buckingham was undoubtedly, at best, in modern terms a bisexual; the best quote of the show about sex partners was “bodies are just bodies”–which both mother and son say any number of times as they bed both genders happily.

I highly recommend it, and would love to see more of these shows.

The Tijuana Jail

Ah, Tijuana. I went there several times when I lived in California, and it was always…well, a sloppy messy good time. It’s also where I got my soft wool blankets, the most comfortable bed linens I’ve ever owned. The first one finally fell apart about six years ago, and the second one is starting to fray and unravel. The first was purchased in 1987 and lasted over thirty years; the second was bought in 1997 and is going on twenty-seven. I’ve looked for something similar on-line but so far it’s been to no avail. Sigh. I dread the day when the newer one finally starts to completely unravel.

But I never spent any time in the Tijuana jail, thank the Lord. That’s probably one of my biggest anxieties about foreign travel–winding up in jail through some unintentional mistake. Probably PTSD from watching Midnight Express in the theater at twenty and going in blind with no clue as to what it was about other than I thought the lead actor was kind of attractive. There were a lot of those “out of their element Americans in danger somewhere” movies in the 1970s, when I think back, like how disaster movies also proliferated in that decade.

Last night we had some major weather–bad thunderstorms with eighty mile-per-hour winds. It was in the middle of the downpour and thunder that I went to bed, and as always when it’s storming, I went into a very deep and restful sleep almost immediately. I do feel very good this morning, which is very nice. I feel very rested this morning, too, and am looking forward to getting to work today. I also have errands to run later on today, hopefully around the storms forecast for today. It’s supposed to be worse in the evening that the first blast this afternoon, so we shall see. It’s also nice to wake up on Friday morning and have most of the chores finished already. I don’t have to clean the kitchen, for example, or do any dishes or catch up on laundry or anything like that, which is great. I’d like to do some writing later, definitely some filing, and some reading, too. I’d love to finish the Scott Carson and move on to my next read this weekend…which of course would mean having to pick one out of the pile and there’s too many good choices, frankly–a delightful problem to have. Something newly released, or something that’s been waiting to be chosen for some time now?

We also started watching the new season of Bridgerton last night, and it’s really quite a nice show. Nothing terribly serious, some terrific acting and chemistry, light and frothy entertainment done with incredible style and costuming and set design; it’s absolutely lovely to look at, and appealing enough it its tales of love and romance in the British upper class during the Regency. (It’s interesting that the only royal we ever see is Queen Charlotte, but the Prince Regent was a disgusting pig of a man and that wouldn’t work in this tale of pretty rich people at the top of the food chain.) Jonathan Bailey is such a convincing straight man, too–so much for the ‘gays can only play gays’ tropes–and I do hope he has a lovely career befitting his talents.

I was also delighted to wake up to the news that the City Council booted the Klan of Nyx (the racist homophobic suburban hags who’ve been polluting the parade route and giving, for one example, Confederate flag beads to Black children; the people cancelled Nyx several years ago for their horrific behavior and “All Lives Matter” bullshit in a majority Black city?) from parading the final two weeks of Mardi Gras–and the likelihood of getting permission to ride before the last two weeks is highly unlikely. I am going to do another Mardi Gras book, and it’s going to be “ripped” from these headlines.

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

It’s Late

Wednesday and midweek, with only two days (inclusive) left in the office, can we say hallelujah? I am still struggling to adjust back to getting up early and going into the office, and this morning was a bit better than the others this morning in terms of getting up–my alarm went off, for one–but I am still struggling yet to adjust. I was low energy most of the day yesterday (I got all my work done, though) and then came home to do literally next to nothing the rest of the evening. I pretty much wasted most of the night, really, because I was physically and mentally fatigued. I fell asleep almost the moment I got into the bed, and I slept well for the night. But this too shall pass, and hopefully next week will be a return to my normality as far as sleep and work are concerned.

I continue to follow this Oklahoma suspicious death–the autopsy was recently released, and it’s horrific what happened to this kid–and also realized last night that I not only didn’t want to use All Their Guilty Stains as the title of the book that might grow out of this case; but didn’t know what to use instead, and I always have to have a title before I can do much of anything with the research etc. It hit me right in the face this morning; Justice for Abel, which is a stopgap name for the victim that I’ll probably change later. There are also several ways to write such a book–from the perspective of several people from the area impacted by the death; from a journalistic POV, of either a reporter or true crime writer interested in the case; or as a straight up cop story, like a deputy sheriff or something who becomes very aware there’s corruption in the area’s justice system (or a Kansas Bureau of Investigation agent). But I’m nowhere near ready to write this one, and so I need to just vomit out all the ideas and thoughts about it so I don’t forget them, and dig into the unfinished stuff I need to get done. I know what I am going to be working on next, of course, but I also need to get some of these damned short stories finished, too. Focus, Gregalicious, focus.

I also need to get back to my Scott Carson book, so I can move on to my next read, which will most likely either be the latest Kellye Garrett, Angie Kim, or something else out from the stack of books.

I’ve been up and down lately about my career; which is, of course stupid to think about right now. Of course your career feels a bit off this year–last year was horrific emotionally, spiritually, and physically–so it was kind of a lost year, and this year has been pretty much a wash. I seem to be coming out from under all of that at the moment (at least for the time being) and so I need to make a summer to-do list as well as one for this weekend and next week. It’s been a hot minute since I set any kind of goals for myself, and I don’t think it’s wrong for me to take it easy this week and put no pressure on myself to acclimate faster to my reality. So it takes a while to get back in the saddle and feel like I belong in my own life when I was able to bounce back from trips and breaks in routine faster. But I am in my sixties now and that does impact everything…even if I forget to account for it regularly. I do worry that I am simply justifying being lazy–something I’ve been accused of for so long now that I’ve simply accepted the fact that I am and don’t defend myself when someone says it anymore. But that’s a touch of anxiety, isn’t it? No one cares how hard I work when I am not at my day job, and as I often remind myself when I start to head down the path of self-recrimination, everyone else gets time off, so why shouldn’t I? And not taking down time to rest my creativity and my intellect and my body would just lead to burn out faster, and when I’m burned out there’s nothing I can do at all, so what is better?

So, here’s hoping I can make a to-do list today, get some chores done when I get home from the office, and read for a bit before Paul gets home. I am going to take my leave of you now, Constant Reader, before I head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday!

Along Came Jones

Our power went out last night, around 5:45 a.m. per the email from Entergy (if our power is out, how do they expect me to read an email? I guess my cell phone, but still), but for whatever reason, somehow Paul got up to wake me up at the time I usually rise (my Cat Alarm, aka Sparky, also failed this morning but once Paul got up, he started), but I slept so well last night that it took me awhile this morning to get up and going. Not sure what that’s about (thunderstorm, no doubt), but my coffee tastes good and it looks like the kitchen roof didn’t leak last night, so that’s a good thing. We’re supposed to have heavy weather this morning with off and on showers all day (at least that was the forecast yesterday). A quick glance at my phone, however, has let me know that later this morning it will get sunny and it will stay that way the rest of the day. That’s nice. In fact, the sun is out already so I think that forecast may be off. I know there were tornado warnings west and north of the city last night, and most of the truly bad weather missed us.

I’m not going to lie, I felt very off-balance at work yesterday. It started raining in the early afternoon, which certainly didn’t help (damp air and rain always makes me sleepy), and there were some other things that went on in the early morning after I arrived at the office that had me wondering why the hell didn’t you call in sick this morning, dumb ass? But it all worked out in the end, and the rest of the day went swimmingly. I ran my errands once I was out of the office, and then came home. I was a little tired by then, so didn’t get much of anything done last night other than bonding with Sparky (i.e. being a cat bed). We started watching a new British show called After the Flood, which looked really interesting, but I also noted that only the first two episodes (of six) were up on Britbox, which is…odd. We really liked the show, so I am going to have to figure out how to watch the other four episodes. But that’s peculiar, isn’t it? I think I may have let my subscription go, which is probably why we can only access the first two episodes. Heavy sigh. I really need to get a handle on the streaming services I pay for, don’t I?

I am trying to get a handle on easing back into my normality again–a week off is so disorienting, but nice at the same time–so I figured this wasn’t going to wind up being highly productive, either. I need to at least stay on top of things, though, so I am not buried this weekend trying to get caught up. I need to get the dishes done tonight when I get home, and there’s some laundry and other straightening up to do, and I need to get back to reading my book, too. I managed to get all the book posts done yesterday, but still need to get the one for Dead Boy Detectives, which I loved, finished as well. If you’ve not watched, you really should get cracking on it; it’s definitely one of my favorite new shows of the year. It’s been so long since I finished watching that it may be difficult to write about it now (I finished before I left on the trip), but it pleased me enormously, and I loved all the queerness, especially the Cat King (Lukas Gage, who is fantastic in the part). Of course, you can never go wrong with Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, or anything that comes out of it.

I didn’t read last night when I got home, either, being tired. But I am looking forward to spending some more time with Where They Wait, which I was really enjoying reading last week in Kentucky. I also kind of feel a bit off with the writing stuff, too–it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything other than the blog, so the muscles, already rusted, have kind of tightened up on me again, but I also need to deal with things I’ve been putting off because I didn’t want to deal with them and that’s really not a good way to deal with anything. I need to make a to-do list, too.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I hope to be back here at some point later on.