Category: diversity

Sex as a Weapon

And so the nation turns 250 years old today.

Yes, it’s today: the 250th anniversary of the first signatures on the Declaration of Independence after the states’ delegates ratified it–the birth of our freedom from the British Empire’s Parliament and its King–and while the country as United States was not born until the ratification of the Constitution in 1787 and the first elected officials taking office in 1789, we consider this the birthdate of our nation. We don’t even recognize Constitution Day, which is the true national founding document. As an inquisitive minded child, I wondered about this a lot when I was a child…but it’s Independence Day, not Founders’ Day, I guess. It’s kind of sad how this, an actual landmark anniversary, has turned into such a national embarrassment, but that’s what you get when you hire someone whose only success is hosting a rigged reality show. I mean, he bankrupted a casino. Multiple times. Ah, well.

Yesterday was kind of lovely. I was up early, and got started on chores. Paul had appointments today, so Sparky and I kind of hung out and watched some news (hence the hilarity of the failed State Fair, Fox News’ pretense that everything was going just fine with massive crowds of people, but the failure of the fair has stopped all the algae talk at any rate). Paul went to Please U to get us shrimp po-boys for lunch (I’ve not had one in almost ten years, I think), and they were marvelous. I had some things delivered, and we binged a Kaley Cuoco thriller series, Vanished, which was kind of fun1. Her post Big Bang Theory career has been interesting, hasn’t it? We also started watching The Big Conn, about a criminal conspiracy to defraud Social Security (to the tune of over half a billion dollars), and the people that SSA chose to punish were the recipients2, not the people who actually actively pursued the fraud–the doctor, lawyer and judge who were in cahoots with each other–which is about par for the course in this country: punish the poor instead of the real criminals. And of course, there were two women in the system flagging it all, documenting everything and trying to get someone to pay attention to them–and they wound up punished more than the actual criminals (but the last episode must be about the trial of the one who didn’t take a plea). I’m trying to decide if I need to have anything delivered today, too. I didn’t read, but I brainstormed a short story that’s been sitting in my head for a couple of years and think it might be a good story, if and when I finish it.

I’m up early this morning–Sparky was hungry and wasn’t about to let me sleep late, the sweet little boy. I feel good this morning, too, like yesterday as a day of rest was a very smart decision. I regret not reading yesterday, but I can remedy that this morning, too. I can also get some chores and picking up done, if I stay focused and on top of everything. I did do all the bed linen yesterday, so the bedding felt comfortable and clean and warm last night when I slid beneath the pile of blankets. Sigh. I do love that feeling, you know. I also want to send out a holiday newsletter (more of a newsletter about the holiday) today, which would mean probably writing it this morning, too. I also need to do some filing and organizing, too–like always. But all I need to do is put my head down and stay focused and everything will fall into place. I’m glad I’m up early this morning so I can get a leg up on things–but the temptation to simply collapse into my easy chair is very strong this morning.

I can always justify doing nothing by rationalizing everyone else gets the holiday off, don’t they?

Well, yes, of course, they do–but they also don’t have a writing career on top of their day jobs, do they?

Sigh. I can always spot the flaw in every rationalization I make.

Ah, there’s the caffeine, kicking in at long last. Huzzah!

As I have mentioned before, one of my favorite things lately has been World Cup tourists discovering the abundance we take for granted and enjoying our freedom of choice–as well as the natural beauty and splendor of the continent. We do take our country for granted, don’t we? Sometimes we need an outside opinion of how the US appears to outsiders to remember and appreciate what we have here. That doesn’t mean we don’t have serious problems as a country and culture and society that need to be worked on and overcome so we can finally achieve the ideals the nation was founded upon–but we definitely need to stop looking back and thinking the past was better than the present. It’s also funny how conservatives–the original xenophobes–use those posts from visitors to demean and diminish the Left when we weren’t the ones shouting to the world that America isn’t great anymore.

And on that cheery note, I am going to get some breakfast before I go read for a bit. Have a lovely holiday Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Friendly reminder: it’s against the Flag Code to wear the American flag as clothing. There’s no rule against it being used as a prop.
  1. The big twist at the end was absolutely perfect. ↩︎
  2. For all the whining about Medicaid and Medicare fraud, the truth is the ones committing said fraud are doctors, hospitals, and pharmacies, not the patient. But we only talk about the patient. Isn’t that right, Senator Rick Scott of Florida? ↩︎

Fight It Out

Friday morning and the office is closed for the holiday today, so no work-at-home chores for me today. Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning and I definitely didn’t want to get up this morning, either. I feel a bit worn down today, and a bit foggy, but I’ll be fine once I shower. I was able to leave work early yesterday and run a few errands on the way home (my medication arrived in the mail; had to get another prescription; and pick up my dry cleaning) but I did feel a bit wrung out when I got home. I did some chores (laundry, dishes) and we started watching Margo’s Got Money Problems but didn’t really care much for it, and thus gave up on it. I want to read a bit this morning and do some cleaning around here, and hopefully get some writing done as well. I want to work on newsletters today, too–I have my entry about A Violent Masterpiece to share, and I also want to write about the weirdness of this holiday weekend. They haven’t issued a heat advisory for us yet, but it’s still possible. It currently “feels like” 104 and it’s not even nine yet. There’s a possibility of thunderstorms this afternoon, too. I may have some things delivered today, to get it out of the way so I don’t have to go outside other than to take out trash. That sounds like a lovely plan to me.

It’s hard for me to believe and wrap my mind around the idea that the Bicentennial was fifty years ago; the summer I turned fifteen and was about to start my junior year of high school, starting over again in Kansas, where I stuck out like a sore thumb the moment I crossed the threshold. This is the summer I turn sixty-five, and the country is in a very different mood this time around. Apparently, Ba’al is planning to give an epically long speech tomorrow at the Great American State Embarrassment, and is threatening to go as long as he possibly can to prove that he did. No incumbent president has ever died on July 4th, but at the very least his make-up is going to run–and no telling what will happen to his rat’s nest. However, President Zachary Taylor went to a lengthy celebration of the 4th on a very hot humid day, ate some cold milk and cucumbers to cool down, and got sick and died a few days later.

Dare I dream?

Essence is also this weekend here in New Orleans, and I hope that it’s back to its best form; there were a lot of complaints and some scandals in recent years. Louisiana racists hate Essence Festival (just as they hate Bayou Classic weekend, another Black event), and were pretty gleeful about its possible demise the last couple of years (there are also Quarter businesses that close both weekends, but they’re not racist, wink wink),so here’s hoping its back to form this year and rebuilds back bigger and better than ever before.

The battle between New Orleans and Louisiana rages on, with a grand jury here indicting our criminalistic conservative skank Attorney General for, among other things, abuse of power. Our lovely governor has promised to “pardon her instantly” for any convictions she may get in New Orleans…(that MAGA love and respect for the law and the Constitution on full display here, may they both burn in their own hells for all eternity)…yet conservatives called Huey Long a dictator…when Huey never pulled any of this kind of shit on his own, and he and his candidates always won in landslides. At least the day to day people loved Huey because he fought the 1% to benefit the people–which our modern day demagoguery can’t be bothered with.

I’ve been listening to some old favorites lately in the car as I drive to and from work and around town–albums by Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks, and Pat Benatar from my youth and most of them still hold up today and could be hits. Some of Stevie’s 1980s albums are very much of their time, vastly over-produced like the most excessive Bonnie Tyler hits of the period, unfortunately; I’d love to hear them remade with a more timeless production style.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines for the day. I need to do some chores, and I need to get the kitchen and my workspace back under control. I hope you have a lovely Holiday Eve, Constant Reader, and I hope to see you again here tomorrow morning on the nation’s birthday. Until then, Constant Reader!

Red Vision

Thursday, last day of work this week and I get to leave at two thirty. Huzzah! Holiday Weekend Eve, I suppose this is. I slept well and feel rested this morning, which is good. We’re slow in the clinic today and the way my hours worked out, I get to leave around three this afternoon, too–which is also pretty cool and a lovely way to segue into the holiday weekend. Huzzah! I was able to come home directly from the office yesterday, too, and managed to empty the dishwasher to get a leg up on the chores I’ll need to do this weekend. I did manage to get a newsletter out yesterday, which you can read by clicking here. It’s about my reread of Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water (relisten?) on my trip last weekend, and I really need to finish reading Lev Rosen’s Rough Pages, which I started listening to on the drive back and got to Chapter Eight before getting home and turning off the car. I feel pretty good this morning, which is nice. I know we’re slow today in the clinic, and I definitely need to do a lot of paperwork today–I’m behind again, and our site visit will be coming up soon, either next week or the one after–so I have plenty to keep me occupied at the office today, which is fine with me. I get to leave around two, so the day is going to fly past. I don’t think we’re in a heat advisory today (I’ve not seen anything on line or on my phone so far1) and according to the “forecast,” we’re getting some thunderstorms this afternoon right around when I will be leaving, so that’s great. Since I am leaving so early today, I am thinking about running some errands so I won’t have to do anything tomorrow–but on the other hand, I could just have some things delivered, which is easier still.

Something to think about, at any rate.

Last night we watched this week’s Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, which I don’t see anyone talking much about, which is a shame. It’s really good and I am enjoying it. After that, we caught up on the news but I was falling asleep in my chair so I went to bed shortly after nine and slept deeply and well, only getting up once in the middle of the night before going back to a very sound sleep. I’ve not been very productive this week, but that was because last weekend’s truncation was mentally fatiguing, I guess. I’ve not had much creative thought this week, and I need to get back into the saddle again, I think. Reading tonight and possibly trying to write too should be helpful, and tomorrow I think I will try to be as productive as I can be so I can use Saturday as a holiday and just rest and watch movies and read. I have another newsletter I need to get out tomorrow, and another one to write this weekend (or when I finish Rough Pages). I also want to write one for the holiday, and talk about the difference between the Bicentennial and this 250th disgrace we are witnessing as taxpayer money disappears into a massive grift, like everything MAGA touches. If you can’t capitalize on the stupidity of your cult, why bother having one?

I also need to be even kinder to myself. Of course I am going to be drained emotionally and mentally when I come back from visiting my mother’s grave!

Oy. The depth and totality of my utter and complete obliviousness is really astounding at times.

I saw a debut author had apparently lost their mind on social media and starting doxxing–and encouraging her followers to go after some book club that didn’t like her book. Way to end your career as it’s just getting started. Yes, when you’re new that sort of thing absolutely stings and hurts, and it makes you worry if people will read the review and not read your book. It doesn’t matter in the long run–how many one-stars has James Patterson or Dan Brown gotten? And how has it slowed them down? The answer is not at all. You can’t embrace good reviews while being upset by bad ones, and nothing is a faster trip down the lane of complete and utter insanity than letting reviews get under your skin. I know I used to when I was new, and maybe one will sting when I come across it, but I don’t comment, I don’t bring attention to it, and I dismiss it and don’t even think about it again. I remember one bad review for my first book., and I use it as an example because the end result of that review was me making Scotty being even gayer than I had originally planned…you think Chanse is a stereotype? I”ll show you a fucking stereotype!

And interestingly enough, Scotty–the biggest gay stereotyped character ever written by a gay crime writer–has never been called one by a reviewer.

This is why I no longer read reviews, and have never ventured into the shark-infested waters of Goodreads.

The on-going war between New Orleans and Baton Rouge continues. It’s interesting living under the state’s version of racist homophobic MAGA fascism. I also believe our pos shit Attorney General (who may appear under a slightly different name in the next Scotty book) should be stripped of her law degree because she refuses to abide by either the state or federal constitution and consistently thinks she somehow has the right to tell New Orleans what it can or cannot do; our state Supreme Court all has their head up the Governor’s flat crusty unwashed ass, too and SCOTUS? Not much better.

Sigh. Happy upcoming 4th of July weekend to you, too. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader and hang in there; resist resist resist. I’ll be here again tomorrow morning, without fail.

I love this drone shot of canoers on a bayou in the Atchafalaya Swamp. Ben Pierce is a great Louisiana landscape photographer; check out his website. I always get his calendars. I would love to write about the Atchafalaya swamp someday and its Cajun history.
  1. I stand corrected; we are in a heat advisory until (or if) the rains come. ↩︎

Le Bel Age

So, pay the bills Wednesday has somehow rolled around again, and how? Your guess is as good as mine. It’s also the first of July (rabbit, rabbit!), with a three day weekend on the horizon and we’re over halfway there (oh-oh, living on a prayer). It’s also the nation’s 250th anniversary of independence (or declaring us to be independent of the British Empire), which, of course, has been completely fumbled by the idiots y’all voted into office in 2024. I am old enough to remember the Bicentennial, and it was lavish and elaborate and lengthy. The entire country went Bicentennial. Everything was “Bicentennial this and that or this or that”–commemorative glasses, stamps, coins, flags, posters…Bicentennial Minutes, which were one minute history lessons during commercial breaks, were also impossible to escape (as a History buff, I loved them) and “Spirit of ’76” was everywhere you looked and the country went nuts celebrating itself.

This time? Not so much.

Although we should be grateful the corrupt SCOTUS didn’t overturn the 14th Amendment, that doesn’t mean birthright citizenship is safe. (I do like the thought of lil Marco having his citizenship stripped, along with Ted Cruz.) So glad people listened to Susan Sarandon in 2000 and 2016. Imagine a supreme court with justices appointed by Gore and Obama, and then wonder where we’d be at right now if so many people hadn’t been so stupid four times this century. It’s also kind of amusing to see Democratic Socialists primarying–and defeating–incumbent centrist Democrats who’ve sat by and allowed this to happen. Too busy listening to their donors and billionaires and corporations to give much of a shit while Republicans unraveled the social safety net and helped rape the country. Will they follow their base, or will they continue telling us to “vote blue no matter who”…until they don’t like the blue candidate for being too far to the left. Under a more fighting and aggressive style of leadership, the Democratic Party could end the Republicans once and for all this year and again in 2028; but no, they’d rather be bribed to work for corporatists. Right, Chuck and Hakeem?

Apparently, we need to purge our party as well of these MAGA-lite corporatists. Begone, corrupt beasts! Get thee behind us, Satans!

I slept well again last night. I ran uptown to make groceries (every time I set foot in a grocery store it’s about $80; so glad those prices came down Day One!) and pick up the mail before coming home. Yesterday didn’t feel as miserably hot because the sun wasn’t out–we had a merciful cloud cover all day–and even this morning, when I took the recycling out, I thought oh this isn’t so bad today!

Reader, it was eighty-nine degrees outside. Clearly, I am acclimating to this summer.

But it’s nice to not be physically tired, you know, especially after a trip and eleven hours in the car driving. Oddly it’s more about my brain fatigue more than anything else; those batteries need some more charging, I think–but there’s a marvelous three day weekend on the horizon and I should be able to get some rest and do some things. Tonight I am heading home after work–and I get to leave the office early tomorrow, too, on Holiday Weekend Eve. I did work a bit on the newsletter last night–writing up some thoughts on Blessed Water, and I also want to finish the one on A Violent Masterpiece, which I should have posted about already. I also can’t remember where I was with everything before the trip, so I am trying to get my act together. I also have to pay the bills, too. Heavy heaving sigh. And I think I want to do a newsletter on the 4th, to talk about the Bicentennial and the failure of imagination handling this notable anniversary of our independence…and really, it’s no surprise no one feels like celebrating this country the way we did in 1976.

I do want to finish Rough Pages and move on to my next read. I also need a reread and a nonfiction read, too; I am leaning towards Sarah Weinman’s Without Consent (her writings are always worth reading; and I kind of want to revisit The Real Lolita, too, given that pedophilia is the right-wing aim now), because I actually remember the Ridout case and the moves toward exposing rape and how the victims are inevitably punished more than the perpetrator, like it’s not a big deal….I always want to say to rape apologists, “Bet you wouldn’t feel the same way if someone forcibly penetrated you anally while holding a knife to your throat, now would you?”

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

We’ve been watching Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, and we are totally on the monsters’ team. All the personal melodrama surrounding the characters, with its weird shifts in time and ages of the characters, isn’t terribly compelling or interesting…but the monsters are fucking amazing. Visually, it’s a stunning production, and that’s really all I’ve been looking for this week at night. I think we’re going to binge The Vampire Lestat for the holiday weekend, which I am looking forward to–Sam Reid does such an excellent job as Lestat it’s not even funny. I also really like Interview with the Vampire and all the changes to update were wonderful. Too bad they shit the bed on the Mayfair Witches, which could have been an incredible series instead of a huge disappointment. How could write Michael out of it? How?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again tomorrow on Holiday Weekend Eve. Till then!

Fitness model and influencer Chris Salvatore

Little Too Late

Home again, home again. It’s hot as Satan’s taint here in New Orleans–Alabama was cool and lovely in comparison and it was hot as fuck up there–I was drenched in sweat getting the car unloaded; something was going on in the ‘hood yesterday because I had to park at Coliseum Square and walk back, which exhausted me and so I just collapsed into my chair and sat there for a bit before showering and relaxing for the evening. We got caught up on Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, which is absolutely delightful (Tatiana Maslany never disappoints; how she didn’t win an Emmy for every season of Orphan Black is yet another example of how wrong they often are) and then a few episodes of Citadel. I slept in this morning a bit, which was also nice, but I feel a bit worn out this morning. I slept very well last night, too. I did sleep well in Alabama, and I am glad I got to spend time with Dad; even if it was so brief. I didn’t do much of anything up there other than hang out with Dad and sleep, but it was nice.

I was very lucky with my parents for the most part.

The drives up and back were lovely and uneventful. I listened to Margot Douaihy’s marvelous Blessed Water in the car, and got to chapter eight listening to Lev AC Rosen’s Rough Pages, which is also excellent–for the record, queer crime writers are consistently knocking it out of the park, people, what are you doing? READ them. On the way up I stopped in Ellisville to get gas an they had a Jack’s (their hamburgers are good good good so you’ll go back back back for more more more) so I ate there. New development on the drive up–my legs stiffened on both drives, making walking when I got out more difficult than it needed to be, but that can also be chalked up to Greg is now so fucking out of shape it’s like he never worked out in his life ever. I stopped at the Love’s at Mile 24 in Mississippi and brought Arbys home for dinner. Paul very kindly washed the bed linens yesterday so I came home to fresh and clean bedding, which was so marvelous. I slept for almost eleven hours last night, and I cannot remember the last time I did that. I feel a bit rung out this morning, but that’s the sleep hangover and some muscle tightness in my legs. Gee, Greg, why don’t you just stretch?

I am oft times oblivious and clueless.

I’m not sure if I am going to do any writing today; like I said, I feel a bit worn today, so I don’t know how that is going to play out. I do need to do some work on the kitchen and living room, too, and some laundry. A rest day to do absolutely nothing would have been lovely, but if I get it all done quickly–and focus–I can get it all under control in a couple of hours…but I really want to get back to reading Rough Pages. I’d like to do my essay on Blessed Water today, but that’s going to depend on my energy levels and how much I can get done around the house, too. I am going to at least finish the chapter I started in the car yesterday and possibly another.

One of the nice things about these trips is they enable me to disconnect from the world’s insanity and get some perspective on things. (The “State Fair” is another humiliation for him and the country; the Lyon County Fair back in Kansas had higher attendance (and better rides and activities)…a county fair. State fairs are a bigger deal than this “national” one. I can’t seem to remember Gerald Ford making the Bicentennial about him, or him coming up with an “alternative” Bicentennial he could make money from…but Republicans in the 1970s put country before party nor were they a insurrectionist movement looking to install fascism back then….these Republicans would have let Nixon serve out his second term. All of where we are now is a result of Reagan, whose money and power above all else mentality began the tribalism, and brought us Newt Gingrich and the divine right of Republicans to rule.

Sigh. And catching up on the news after three glorious days makes it all the more surreal, you know?

And on that note, I am heading for the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. Stay cool!

Bayou sunsets are so gorgeous! I highly recommend they use this color next as the Reflecting Pool cycles through the Pride flag.

I Want Out

I slept in a bit this morning because I don’t have to leave until this afternoon for Alabama. It’s a short trip; I’ll drive home on Saturday morning, hopefully feeling refreshed and reinvigorated and inspired. Spending time in the home place always inspires me somehow, makes me itch to get back to my keyboard or scribble in my journal. I’m going to listen to Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water in the car as a reread so I’ll be primed for the third Sister Holiday novel. I am also taking Lev Rosen’s Rough Pages to read before bed both nights.

This has been an interesting week. I wasn’t terribly tired much after work, and I really didn’t have any trouble getting up all week, either–other than not wanting to get out of the bed’s warmth and comfort–but I even got up before the alarm all three days I had to get up. I stayed in bed longer this morning, but not to sleep–Sparky was being a sweet little purring cuddlebug, and who wants to leave that? Not I, said the deliriously happy cat dad. Sparky purrs a lot more than we think he does, because his purr motor is quiet; you can only hear it if he is sitting on you, or you can feel him purring when you pet/snuggle him. He really is a sweetheart, and very loving. He’s not fully a lap cat, like Scooter was. Sparky is more like Skittle, our first cat. Loving and sweet, but only on his terms.

I ran errands after work yesterday on my way home, picking up the mail and making groceries, but not much (it was still insanely expensive), came home and chilled out for a bit with Sparky while I caught up on the news. Paul came home and we watched more Citadel, which is very interesting and complicated and moves very fast, before retiring to bed for the evening. I feel pretty good this morning, too, rested and relaxed and centered, and it feels terrific, you know? I think I am finally recovered from everything, and I’d forgotten that it was possible to feel this good ever again.

It doesn’t help when medical professionals smile awkwardly and say, you’re just getting older and every time I heard that, all I could think was if this is how I’m going to feel for the rest of my life, I don’t want this.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Although it hit me yesterday, as I spoke with a co-worker about my retirement plans, that I am casually talking about turning SEVENTY in a little over five years. It was kind of unsettling (freaks me out that Dad’s in his eighties, really) for a moment, but then I was like and so fucking what? Sure, it’s daunting; I don’t know what sixty-four is supposed to feel like, but now that I am back to (or almost at) 100% again, it actually doesn’t feel that bad. I don’t feel like I’ve wasted time–although I have, months if not years’ worth of wasted time–because I’ve also learned to know the rhythms of my body and my mind over the years, and when I do waste time it’s because of being tired in some way, either mental, emotional, or physical, and the down time is necessary for recharging.

Making peace with myself, and finally finding my own peace of mind, was actually kind of worth this entire miserable decade so far, actually. As awful as it was to lose Mom, I may not have known I had generalized anxiety disorder and sought help for it had she not passed. (I’d take the anxiety back though, for her to still be with Dad.)

So, some Kpop artist (Mark Lee) whom I’d never heard of decided to wear a Confederate flag shirt–definitely trying to break into the white American racist market, and when all hell broke loose, his record company tried to run some cover claiming it was a “vintage” shirt and no one involved with the photo shoot “knew”? Oh, fuck right off. That’ll play with the racists who would see it as a symbolic dog whistle–“hey, look, Cletus, I know he’s ASIAN but he hates the n-words too!” I don’t know if they actually knew how many flies were buzzing around this horseshit they dropped, but their “apology” was actually he’s just a cute young dumb boy, he didn’t know any better! He’s not from the US! He’s Canadian, he sure as fuck has seen that flag and knew exactly what it meant. It was a deliberate choice, and no one is going to convince me to infantilize a twenty-six year old man. Fuck him, fuck his record company, fuck his fans, and fuck anyone who supports the racist piece of shit. And if any of those excuses are true? Then he’s too fucking stupid to live a public life and deserves everything coming to him still.

Don’t even get me started on so-called “girl dad” Jimmy Fallon for platforming a rapist. He is also trash, and always has been, and he is worse than Jay Leno, which I didn’t think possible.

As for the San Francisco Bitchboys, they continue to pour gasoline on the flames. Hope you don’t need a new taxpayer funded stadium anytime soon! I always have tried to root for the San Francisco major league teams because it’s our community’s capital, but no more. I will buy a black candle, carve GIANTS into it, and light it every baseball season–just doing my small part to curse their future. May their streak of no World Series wins last as long as the Cubs’ streak. I hate to break it to you bitches, but the queers never forgive or forget. So fucking disgusting, and even more disgusting is their fucking cowardice and backtracking and whining about being called bigots. Well the truth fucking hurts, and you know, adultery made the top ten. Were they all virgins when they married? Have they been faithful to wives? If you want to talk sin, bitches, let’s fucking talk sin. How about taking the Lord’s name in vain? (Also a top ten sin.) What did Jesus say about performative faith? You’re not only shitty people but you are shitty Christians. Do you go to church every Sunday, despite games? Do you find churches when you’re on the road? Don’t fucking stand up there and judge sin unless you want your own counted. Judgment is God’s and God’s alone, you heretical blasphemers. Your faith is weak and performative, and I don’t have to accept or respect your hypocrisy. Have fun doing the backstroke when you get to hell, pigs, and I hope your careers all circle the toilet, and may the team always be more mediocre than it is now.

You’re losing because you have issues in your lockerroom, and these fucks are doing the dividing. Enjoy your new status as the MAGA Giants…which were abominations in your precious Bible, the children of angels mating with human women, the accursed nephilim. But then, I doubt any of these slack-jawed inbreds have read the Bible because it’s not written for children.

And on that note, I am really looking forward for this brief interlude this weekend. And on that note, I should probably start getting my shit together to head out today. I doubt I’ll be back here until Sunday, sorry! Til then!

I will never understand why some people don’t find gingers attractive. Look at this wrestler!

Silent Partner

Tuesday and we made it through Monday, did we not? Huzzah!

Today’s weather is ungodly hot; we’re still in a heat advisory and the temperature today will feel like 106. It was ninety-nine degrees outside yesterday when I left work. It actually didn’t feel that bad–thank the Lord for air conditioning; again, I don’t know how anyone could have lived here before electricity–and I don’t think I’m yet getting used to it or anything, since it hasn’t been this hot since last summer. Last night we also had a weird situation with our power–there was a surge or something, and after it happened, the lights were dim, the washing machine couldn’t run, and more crucially, the air conditioning wasn’t coming on, either, and it was getting warm in here when I went to bed. The power went off about ten thirty and stayed off for a minute or so, before the power came roaring back on. Right now, the load of laundry that was delayed overnight is running, the lights are very bright, and it’s the proper summer indoor temperature. This will be one of those summers, I think, where the air can’t keep up with the heat.

I finally finished and posted my newsletter about how one of my many favorite juvenile series, featuring Ken Holt, was pretty homoerotic. Just click anywhere on the blue and it’ll take you right there. Hope you click, and hope you enjoy, and maybe even subscribe? It is absolutely one hundred percent free. It also lightly touched on something that I’ve been thinking about since watching Half Man; it’s also entirely possible something resonated in me while watching that I may have projected onto the show–which is part of the reason I’ve not written about it yet, because I am still digesting everything from watching. I think I am going to have to rewatch some of it so I can write about it more clearly and not so much from memory. And who knows? I may never write about it if I can never think about it more cohesively, and structurally.

I wasn’t tired when I got home from work, and loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen some. I picked up the mail and made some groceries on the way home, too; it was strange how little traffic there was yesterday, both in the morning and after work. I love when school is out for summer. It’s wild what an impact that has on city traffic–not that our traffic is really worth complaining about, because it’s rarely stop-and-go, other than the ramp from I-10 West to 90–and even that wasn’t too bad yesterday–the ramp to the river bridge wasn’t backed up as far as it usually is and the right lane–which I take to head uptown on Claiborne–was empty except for the assholes who don’t think they should wait like everyone else and jumps the line of cars. Paul wasn’t feeling well–he hasn’t these last couple of days–but the weather has been particularly nasty during that same time period. The humidity is back, of course, and the air conditioning felt wonderful this morning when I got up. I couldn’t find my wallet (left it in the car like an idiot) which also had me a bit off-balance, but I did manage to sleep very well, woke up before the alarm (a good thing, because I had reset the clock and fucked up am v. pm), and of course, Sparky was his usual loving “I’m hungry” self this morning. He’s such a spoiled little fella.

I am thinking that the “darling” I wrote on the book this weekend may actually fit into the story, after all. I am going to go ahead and complete it, I think, and we’ll see where it goes from there. I have some ideas, too, and I am very pleased with myself and the book, too. While it may be what I consider a more commercial idea than what I usually write, that doesn’t influence what I want to write and what I want to do, which is probably not the smartest way to be an author, I suppose. I’ve also kind of accepted, going into it, that I was never going to have any huge success and I was fine with that, honestly; had I wanted to make big money as a writer I wouldn’t be writing about queer life. It was not the right choice for that, really, nor have I ever been arrogant enough to think that I would be the exception. So, I’ll just go on doing what I am doing, stumbling through a long publishing career which has to be respected for the longevity, if nothing else, not knowing what I am doing, and not caring if an idea that seizes my imagination and creativity is commercial or not.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again tomorrow morning.

It’s so rare to see someone built like this who hasn’t waxed, shaved and plucked off all of his body hair.

Just Like Me

And here we are on Sunday morning. It rained yesterday and was damp and humid all day. It looks like it rained overnight, too. I slept well and got up early this morning, as I had hoped I would. Sparky somehow knows when I want to get up early–he let me sleep late the last two mornings, even if I was already awake when he decided to get me up this morning. Yesterday was actually kind of nice, to be honest. I did do some writing and organizing yesterday, which was awesome, and I hope to do more today and, since I am up so early, perhaps do some reading as well. I only have to work three days this week because I am leaving for Alabama on Thursday (be back on Saturday), and of course next week will be yet another holiday weekend. I am getting rather spoiled, methinks.

We were really lucky as far as Arthur and the other storms he spawned in his wake are concerned; I just saw how so much of the Gulf Coast and the southern parts of Mississippi got slammed with flooding, and I do have to drive through that part of the state on Thursday on my way north. I haven’t yet decided what I am going to listen to in the car, either. Since it’s still Pride, I am thinking maybe something on the queer side, rather than my usual car stalwarts (Carol Goodman, Donna Andrews, Laurie King, Lisa Unger), this time around. Something to ponder, for sure. I’ve also not been as motivated this year, for some reason, to write Pride essays for my newsletter–and I think I actually just figured it out; using Pride Month to talk about queer issues, books, culture and experience is limiting, because–just like African-American History Month in February, I worry I will only do that during Pride, and that’s wrong. Just as I read marginalized writers all year long, I should write about queer issues all year and shouldn’t just make it about Pride Month. Du-uh.

Sometimes it takes me a minute. I am kind of oblivious that way, most of the time. (I also started writing this and then got sucked into clips of World Cup tourists having a lovely time here for much longer than necessary…but I also had the whole morning, and I’ve also been fighting Sparky for my desk chair all morning, too (even now as I type this he is lying underneath my desk, waiting for me to get up again). I’ve had some toast and a piece of coffee cake, and might need to have something else before I take my pills and get cleaned up and move into the living room. And I have to go back to the office tomorrow, heavy sigh. Not a terrible thing, actually, especially since I feel good and rested and recharged this morning. I am resisting the urge to do literally nothing for the rest of the day, which wouldn’t be a good thing. But dear Lord, is it ever tempting to think about! I have moved to the easy chair from my desk; I got up for more coffee and the look Sparky gave me from my desk chair, once he’d moved into it literally the moment I got up? Yeah, you can have the chair, Mr. Man.

We finished America’s Sweethearts, and yeah, not nearly as engaging as the earlier seasons. From there, we moved on to the latest Harlan Coben show on Netflix, I Will Find You, which was thoroughly engaging, had intense and insane twists and turns, and was also very well-acted. You really can never go wrong with a Harlan Coben show, seriously, or book. Harlan’s the best, and absolutely deserves every cent of his insane success.

Maybe I should have been nicer. Nah, that would have been exhausting because that’s just not who I am.

Yes, I did write yesterday, in case you were wondering, It felt good and so I just went with it. I also gathered up all my journal notes for the book–long overdue–and I also found all the scans of book notes from all the older journals (I’d forgotten I’d already done this before–the joys of the impaired memory I’ve had most of this decade), which will make the book easier to write. It really does help to get organized. I’m still not finished organizing, either, but I know I can make some excellent progress today. I also need to do a bit of chores today, too, but I want to get some writing done again today. I also worked on a couple of short stories yesterday, which was also kind of awesome. It feels amazing to be writing again, and all this free time is also amazing, which is partly why I am feeling so lazy. I always had so much else to do all the time that writing always felt like my lowest priority, and now that all I have to do, besides my chores and every day things and my job, is write and relax, it’s wonderful. I don’t have to be so organized and busy all the time, and I don’t need to feel guilty for doing things other than writing anymore, which is lovely.

And so on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, and I will be back tomorrow morning!

Precious Time

Happy Juneteenth! And to all the whining racists out there, shut the fuck up and have all the seats. Are you working today or getting paid to stay home? If the latter, you really need to fuck all the way off into the sun.

Sparky let me sleep in this morning, which was very nice. I did some chores last night (we also watched a few episodes of America’s Sweethearts, but not really feeling the show this time around), so the kitchen doesn’t need as much work as it usually does over the weekend, which is nice. I also have some more chores to do this morning–I need to finish laundering clothes and do the bed linens, an unload/reload the dishwasher, and the floors. I also need to tackle my workspace, too–it’s been out of control for far too long at this point, seriously.

Yesterday was a rather dreary and damp day. Arthur’s conditions (he passed north of New Orleans) dumped a shit ton of rain on us all day yesterday, which I usually like, but I wasn’t at home under my blankets so it wasn’t as enjoyable as it usually is for me. We also had three (!!) tornados touch down in the metro area–none near me, thank the heavens–but one started in Avondale, another started in Harahan and tore its way through the cemeteries on its way to the lake front, and one on the west bank that started near Houma and spun its way up the bayou. As far as I know, there were no fatalities but a lot of damage. It’s sunny this morning–we were supposed to have more rain today–and I think I’ll have some things delivered so I don’t have to leave the house today. It’s weird not having to do work-at-home duties on a Friday, but it’s also kind of nice.

Can you believe he agreed to this shitty deal with Iran and signed it at Versailles? What other treaties have been signed there? Well played, France, as well as the gift of a bike to him. Chef’s kiss no notes on the trolling that he is too stupid to understand. Yup, that’s their golden calf–the one they sold their souls, intelligence, patriotism, and consciences to…and they went incredibly cheap. We can’t have universal health care, we can’t have free education, we can’t give kids free lunch at school, we can’t have so many things….but we can afford $300 billion more to give to Iran as “sorry we blew up your country, please let the oil flow.” Sounds like the desert country with the precious spice actually did hold all the cards. Are people still worshiping at this shrine? The right has been itching to go to war with Iran since the hostage crisis; they finally get a guy who’ll give it to him and he fucks it all up. But hey, you got rid of Roe v. Wade at least…it’s almost like God is punishing the United States for doing that. (Hey if they can blame hurricanes on queer people, I can blame whatever the fuck I want on them and will.)

Anyway, I know I am tired of all this winning, aren’t you?

Sigh.

I’m going to play today by ear, but the primary goal is cleaning up, resting, and reading for the holiday. I may do some writing, but maybe not. I feel pretty good and rested this morning, too, which is nice. There’s also a new Harlan Coben show on Netflix to watch; we always enjoy his shows, and plus, it’s not every day you get to watch a television series produced and written by someone you know. Come to think of it, I know any number of people who’ve had movies and television shows made out of their books, which is pretty fucking cool. My life is far more fabulous than it has any right being, you know?

And on THAT cheery note, I am heading into the spice mines. I’m getting some more coffee to watch the news with, maybe read for a bit, and then get cleaned up before I order groceries for delivery. I hope you have a marvelous holiday doing whatever you like, as I will, and I will of course return tomorrow morning.

Those thighs! Dat ass! Either a soccer or rugby player, for sure. Based on the arms, I’m going with rugby.

Out a Touch

Tuesday morning, after a busy and overcast Monday. I had to do my bimonthly injection yesterday morning, which went without a hitch, and this time I wouldn’t have even remembered it was coming up if I hadn’t seen my specialist last week. (This is good news, because this was the first time since starting doing this last August that I couldn’t tell about two weeks ahead of time that it was coming due. Huzzah!) It’s nice to know that I can manage the chronic illness I have to live with until I die. I slept decently; very relaxing and restful, but I kept waking up every now and then. I also wasn’t terribly hungry yesterday after the injection, either, but don’t know if those two things are related. We were busy yesterday in the clinic, too, and will be again today before two light days and a slide into a long weekend, which will be lovely.

I forgot to mention that we also watched that documentary, Maternal Instinct, over the weekend and can I just say, what a horrible bunch of people on every level! Everyone involved was essentially a piece of shit. (All I could think about while watching was how conservatives always paint small town/farm country life as “real America“–as opposed to, you know, the urban dwellers who actually drive the engine of the economy? Remember Joe Sixpack and Joe the Plumber and other “real Americans” Sarah Palin and her ilk pushed on us relentlessly? Fuck off now and forever. You just know who everyone in that documentary voted for–you can smell it through the television.) The young woman was a narcissistic psychopath with an unhinged grip on reality. Everyone who enabled her cons–the greedy boyfriend who saw dollar signs, his friends, his mother–are all at least partly responsible for the murder of that poor young woman and her baby. They went along with everything, even past when they knew better, because they thought there would eventually be a pay off, even as that possibility became more and more remote. Horrible, really. (Small towns and rural areas are a lot more like Peyton Place than anyone ever wants to admit. Grace Metalious was right, and she’s still right.)

I was also enormously disappointed to see the San Francisco Giants, of all the MLB teams, welcomed homophobia into the dugout for Pride Night. Speaking of right-wing bullshit, am I right? Oooh, those poor big men who get paid a shit ton of money to play a children’s game had their little delicate masculine he-man fee-fees hurt, and anyone who believes that had anything to do with Christianity is literally too stupid to engage with. It’s pretty sad that we look up to athletes as role models in the first place when so many of them clearly aren’t (Carter Hart, anyone?), but it’s hilarious to me how many men’s masculinity is so fragile and weak that it turns toxic, like those four needle-dicks who’ve never brought a woman to orgasm and never will and moreover, wouldn’t care. We learned a lot about the Giants organization and their players on Pride Night, and as far as I am concerned I hope they never win a pennant ever again. The team condoned it, so everyone from the owners to the batboys are complicit in homophobia. Nice look for a team that represents SAN FUCKING FRANCISCO.1

Remind me why Pride isn’t necessary anymore?

I was also highly amused to see that Hollywood is doing what it always does: missing the point while trying to squeeze every last penny possible out of a trend. The enormous success of Heated Rivalry was a huge surprise to them all–and it wouldn’t have been what it was had an American network been involved…they’re so afraid of gay sexuality and sensuality they would have turned Shane into a side piece and Ilya would end up with a woman…and his relationship with women would gotten a lot more air time. So what lesson did Hollywood learn from the gay hockey show? People want more hockey romance! Hockey is the key! So, instead of more gay romances, we’re getting a shit ton of straight ones about hockey. And if the new straight hockey romances (which won’t have any of the sexual assaults and misogyny straight hockey players are known for–I’ve not forgotten the US Olympic Men’s Team’s shenanigans, have you?) fail? They’ll consider Heated Rivalry an outlier.

Juneteenth is this weekend, and it’s more than just another federal holiday. I guarantee every white racist bitching and whining about it plans to not take the day off with pay and is going to work all day, right? If you take the day off with pay you’ve surrendered your right to complain about it. See how that works? You’re free to not participate. Do some heavy labor, that’ll teach the wokesters!

Honestly, the decline and fall of the American empire is so deserved.

I did do some writing yesterday, so hurray for that, and I hope to get some done this evening as well. I need to do some chores, though, before I can chill out for the evening.

And on that note, tis off to the spice mines for me. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and here’s hoping it includes tacos! See you tomorrow!

  1. The funniest thing to me is straight white male homophobes, always so scared a gay man might actually, hit on them or something, are inevitably the ugliest unfuckable things you’ll ever see–and you know they don’t wash their ass. Dream on, bitches. ↩︎