And here we are on Monday morning yet again, Constant Reader. I still feel fatigued this morning, which is not a good thing. My hips and legs are aching this morning, but at least it’s better than yesterday, when standing up and walking was actually super-painful. It’s not that bad this morning so far, but it’s going to make for a super long and awful day at work. I should probably stay home and try to rest, but I don’t have enough sick time to take an entire day off. Ah, well. I took next week off to go visit family, but that was canceled and I am now only going to Alabama for that weekend (Mom’s birthday), so all I have to do is make it through this week and then I can get some rest. The fatigue shouldn’t last much longer, should it? I am not fond of this new reality, in all honesty, but next week’s staycation will be nice. It’s been a long time since I’ve been home so long without having had surgery or being horribly sick. I hope to get a lot of reading, cleaning and some writing done that week, too. We’ll see how it all turns out, I suppose.
Yesterday was the peak of the reaction to the vaccine (I do not regret getting it, so miss me with anti-vax bullshit; reminder that I block for idiocy about public health), but I still am a bit worn out this morning. Glad it’s not as bad as yesterday, but it’s still not great. I was able to get some things done yesterday while Paul was at the office–but not as much as I would have wanted to as I was so fucking fatigued. Heavy heaving sigh. Clearly I need to get future COVID vaccinations late on Thursdays so I can recover from the fatigue reaction. This year’s flu shot about a month ago didn’t phase me in the least, whereas it usually makes me feverish for a day or so. Go figure. I am hoping it will wear off throughout today.
The Saints lost again to drop to 0-4…and haven’t been really competitive since their “moment of silence” for a Nazi. What was that phrase? “Not woke, go broke”? I also saw that Harrison Butker, the asshole kicker for the Chiefs, has now missed a field goal in every game this season…maybe he should take his tongue out of Josh Hawley’s butthole and focus on, I don’t know, kicking? It sure would suck for him to get fired and have to be a stay-at-home Dad, wouldn’t it? It’s almost like he cursed the team, isn’t it?
The good news is the book isn’t one tenth as terrible as I originally thought it was, so huzzah for that, right? I will definitely be diving back into it when I get home from the office today, and after I make a small grocery run on the way. I am hoping to get it all done before the staycation, so I can relax and get things done around the house before I leave for Alabama next week.
Not much to report this morning, is there? Maybe I should take the hint and head into the spice mines…see you tomorrow morning!
I probably should have saved this title for Monday, since the original lyrics open with “met her on a Monday and my heart stood still.” But it will always be a Shaun Cassidy tune to me, even though his version was a cover and reminds me of the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries series that aired in the late 1970s. Ah, to be in my teens again–only medicated properly this time. What a difference that could have made, right?
I left the apartment yesterday morning to walk over to the Marsten House on St. Charles, and I have to say–the experience was vastly superior to the one I had on Magazine, in the Garden District’s version of Walgreens. Including walking there and back, it took a sum total of fifteen minutes, so fuck you, Walgreens on Magazine; you will now be known as the Marsten House on Magazine, and the one a block from my house will simply be Walgreens again. Still not planning on doing much business with them going forward, but the experience was entirely pleasant. Until I got home, at any rate. Remember, I felt good yesterday morning? Well, within an hour of getting home I was running a slight fever and was completely exhausted. Everything aches from fatigue this morning, despite a good night’s sleep, and my alarm kitty let me sleep later than usual, too. (He tried to get me up at the normal time, but when I didn’t? He just turned into a purring kitty cuddle puddle, which made it even harder to get up. My mind was woozy all day, too, so I didn’t get much done other than sitting in my easy chair with football games on, a couple of things around the house (dishes and a load of laundry), and read some more of The Hunting Wives. Paul was out packing up his office all day and didn’t get home until after nine (he’ll be doing the same today, too). Most of the football games were disappointing–LSU lost and played terribly; Auburn lost to A&M; and Arkansas lost to Notre Dame. Georgia-Alabama was a really good game, as was Mississippi State-Tennessee, and Tulane trounced Tulsa. But I wasn’t really vested in any of the games–the fatigue and brain fog thing again–so the LSU loss didn’t really hit as hard as it usually does. So, thanks, COVID vaccine?
And do not @me regarding the vaccine reaction. I work in public health, so let me stop you before you start: I will block you for anti-vaxxer stupidity, and fuck you, while we are at it; fuck you with a razor-blade encrusted dildo. Jenny McCarthy should burn in hell for all eternity for her ignorance and idiocy–anyone who listens to that stupid bitch for medical advice is even worse than she is– period, and fuck you. I reacted strongly to the vaccine because I am immunocompromised because of the colitis, idiots.
I will never understand the mentality that it’s preferable to have a dead child as opposed to an autistic one.
My hips and legs ache painfully. It’s horrible. But my coffee is delicious, and so was my coffee cake. I’m about to make some toast, and maybe a bowl of cereal and get another cup. I have some emails I want to answer this morning–I’ve been ignoring my inbox for quite some time–and of course, there are some finishing touches the apartment also needs to have done. I don’t know what my energy is going to be like throughout the rest of the day, but I hold out hope for a very nice, productive day.
Also? I really miss the time when I didn’t dread checking the news.
I did think a lot yesterday about the book and writing, even if I couldn’t focus enough to write. (The brain fog is absolutely terrifying, for the record. And the memory losses are even worse.) I know what the book needs in order to be finished, and it’s just a matter of energy and brain function. I also watched some videos for research for other projects (and for the book, too), and stumbled across a marvelous documentary about the Manchac Swamp and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. As you may or may not remember, the “curse” also involves the complete destruction of the isolated swamp town, Frenier, where she lived, by the Hurricane of 1915. (It also wiped out Manila Village and the Filipino settlements on the shores of Barataria Bay and Lake Borgne.) I’ve always wanted to write about the hurricane and Julia Brown–as well as the Filipino immigrant settlements, and it occurred to me after watching this documentary (which also talked about the destruction of the cypress forests in the swamp, which has also severely damaged the swamp ecosystem), and as we all know, I’ve been thinking about writing an environmental thriller set down here. Why not about the Manchac Swamp and some murders?
Why not, indeed.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday filled with love and laughter and relaxation, and I will be back on the morrow.
One can never go wrong with old Bobby Sherman hits, can one? 🙂
Well, it’s Saturday morning, the apartment looks a lot better, and I am not feeling tired this morning, as opposed to yesterday morning. I had a good night’s sleep before my alarm kitty went off this morning–he let me sleep a while longer–and now I am awake, swilling coffee, and ready to get to work today. I have to get my COVID shot today (more on that story later), so am hoping for no adverse reactions so I can get some work done today. Paul is working with his trainer and then going by his office–they have to move out by the end of the month (remember the building collapse last year?), and so he is packing and throwing things away. There are football games all day today, too–including LSU-Mississippi and some other terrific match-ups, so the siren song of my easy chair and the television is going to be difficult to resist, but I do have work to do today, that I have to get done if I am going to be finished with this book on time.
Several weeks ago, I talked to my doctor about the COVID shot (I am not sixty-five yet, but I am immunocompromised), at which point I was informed that in Louisiana you now need a prescription for it and if you aren’t 65 or older you have to be at “risk”. Well, everyone’s at risk, since it spreads so easily from person to person, thank you again, MAGA garbage human beings who are seriously too stupid to breathe if it weren’t involuntary. Your doctor has to write a prescription for it, send it to the pharmacy, and you have to know which version of the shot they have. So first, you have to check with said pharmacy to see which brand they offer, and let your doctor know so he can write the scrip for the correct version. So, you can’t just can’t get a prescription–if it’s written for the wrong version they won’t give you either. Idiotic, right? This is what comes from living in a MAGA majority state filled with temporarily embarrassed millionaires. After jumping through these hoops, it turned out that CVS, my pharmacy of choice, wasn’t offering it in New Orleans at all…which meant biting the bullet and getting it at a Walgreens. I hate Walgreens. I’ve been boycotting Walgreens for the most part (other than the convenience of having one a short block away, so I might go get milk or bread from there in a pinch)and don’t spend money there if at all possible. Since the convenient one is the one I used to call the Marsten House on St. Charles, I decided to have it called into the one in the Garden District, by Breaux Mart on Magazine. When I went, they made me wait almost an hour–I had another appointment and had to leave. After leaving, about half an hour later I got a notice that my appointment was cancelled–so they expected me to sit there for an hour and half? And were rude about it when I finally asked? Yeah, I walked out and gave them one-star on Yelp. I also was more than happy to fill out the “customer satisfaction survey” they sent me because I had checked in for my appointment. I refuse to go back to that one, but still need the vaccine so had my doctor call it into the Marsten House on St. Charles. I will report back, for sure.
Paul didn’t get home until after I went to bed, and I imagine I won’t see an awful lot of him until they are finished moving into their new, temporary office space. DISLIKE.
A lovely review of Double Crossing Van Dine by Oline Cogdill in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel was published this week:
Double Crossing Van Dine, edited by Donna Andrews, Greg Herren and Art Taylor; introduction by Catriona McPherson; Crippen & Landru; 310 pages; $22
The Golden Age of Detective Fiction that launched the classic genre novel is considered to be from the 1920s to 1930s. But contemporary readers know that a second Golden Age began in the mid-1980s when the novels became more emotionally involving along with the introduction of detectives from myriad backgrounds and cultures. The genre continues to evolve, seeing several golden ages in the past decades.Going out on a limb here, many authors from the ’20s and ’30s haven’t survived the test of time, aside from a few, such as Agatha Christie. And going out on another limb here, S.S. Van Dine, the focus of this short story anthology, probably is among those only recognized by readers steeped in the history of mystery fiction.Van Dine, whose real name was Willard Huntington Wright, was an American art critic, literary editor, biographer and author who wrote the series about detective Philo Vance.
Each story begins describing one of Van Dine’s rules, then crushing it. Fort Lauderdale author Elaine Viets’ “Sweet Poison,” about two young women struggling in New York’s Lower East Side during 1921, forgets the rule that “all clues must be publicly stated,” as they deal with the unexpected death of one’s “Wall Street sugar daddy.”Barb Goffman puts aside the “no love interest” rule in “Baby Love” as a fledgling-but-broke private detective tries to launch his career so he and his very loving wife can afford a baby. Co-editor Greg Herren stifles the “no supernatural” rule with “The Spirit Tree,” in which the solution to a murder comes from beyond. The “only one detective rule” doesn’t work for Delia Pitts’ “Better Together,” which finds two heads are better than one.Boca Raton author Alan Orloff’s “The Society Set” takes a butler who has several jobs for his persnickety employer on a journey of a jewelry heist that actually embraces Van Dine’s version of a “fascinating crime.” Leigh Perry has a work-around for the “no secret societies” ban in “Guilted Lily,” in which a tight-knit group of grifters seek a score.Tom Mead dismisses the rule that servants should never be the culprits in “The Tell-Tale Thumb.” Some people, Mead writes, see only the uniform, not the person who hides in plain sight.The majority of the authors in “Double Crossing Van Dine” have either won or been nominated for awards. A handy brief bio of each of the authors may inspire readers to seek out more of their stories.
Pretty cool!
And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning.
Thursday last day in the office for me for the week blog, and I am glad it’s nearing the end of this week. I got tired yesterday afternoon at work–the big tired; not fatigue but just super-tired from getting up and working so much already. The book continues to go well, and I got more work done on it last night, too. Huzzah! I am also having dinner tonight in the Marigny with a good friend, which I am also looking forward to. We’re having a bit of a thunderstorm this morning–thunder woke me up before either the alarm or the alarm kitty–but I remained snug in my bed under my pile of blankets and wishing I didn’t have to get up at all. I love rain so much. I am also a little bit on the tired side this morning, par for the course for a rainy Thursday morning. I hope the fatigue doesn’t set in, else I’ll be a drag at dinner.
And that won’t be much fun, will it?
Probably not.
Gloom and rain all day, though, should pick me right up, right? LOL. I do hope, though, that it rains through the night.
I did come straight home from work yesterday, and the groceries were delivered shortly after I got home. We caught up on the news (Paul worked at home, so was here when I got home), and watched this week’s episode of The Morning Show before we went to bed early. Exciting, isn’t it? I also worked on the book last night and I am very pleased with how it is all coming together. It’s been so long, you know, since I’ve finished a book. Did I just go two years without a book being released? Yep, it looks that way, and so much has happened since the last time I finished a book that I don’t really remember much of writing or finishing it, and frankly, I’m not even sure what my last book published was, in all honesty. My memory issues are becoming a little bit on the scary side…but it’s probably all related to trauma and surgeries and getting older. It also started getting worse when I changed medications…but trading my memory for no anxiety was well worth it, frankly. I sleep better, I don’t freak out, my moods don’t swing…it’s really lovely.
Although the frequent memory lapses get concerning occasionally.
I’m also very glad I am back into the right writing headspace. I am enjoying doing the work again–memory lapses mean I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed the work and didn’t view it as drudgery, in all honesty. The book is becoming much better as I work through it, and yes, I do have some chapters to write still, of course; but I am confident I can get all of it done by the revised deadline, which is next week. I will be watching football games on Saturday, but will most likely work on the book in the morning before the games start. I can also copy edit with the manuscript in my lap, too. I also need to finish reading The Hunting Wives so I can officially move into Halloween Horror Month, kicking it off with the annual reread and discussion of The Haunting of Hill House, which I consider a perfect novel. I may reread The Dead Zone by Stephen King as well; it has seemed very timely since 2015 to me, and I’ve wanted to reread it again ever since the bloated monster’s escalator ride. (Et tu, UN escalator?) I am also going to work on short stories during October, methinks, because I don’t want to immerse myself in another book while working with my editor on making this new Scotty an excellent read. Huzzah! I’m kind of excited about it, to be honest.
I can’t wait to get my box o’books.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines on this gloomy and rainy day. Hope you have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will commune with you again tomorrow morning!
Wednesday Pay the Bills blog, yet again, and I have to remind myself yet again that despite my antipathy towards paying said bills, at least I can pay them and don’t have to worry about it. That’s something in this capitalist hell we all live in, isn’t it? I mean, since all the annoying people didn’t get Raptured yesterday (more’s the pity, seriously), I suppose that’s a good enough reason to keep going, right? There are worse things than just being a cog in the capitalist machine, I suppose, although I generally try not to think in those terms because it’s so incredibly fucking depressing. When I was younger, it very soon became apparent to me that I wasn’t a M-F 9-5 kind of person, no matter how hard I tried or how long I stuck with it…but there was always that moment of is this the rest of my life and all the years stretched out in front of me, with me counting down the days every week until the weekend, I would get a little freaked out, and would shortly after that self-destruct and need to find a new means of employment.
Obviously, the Rapture didn’t happen yesterday–it never does, honestly–followed with the usual rush to explain why by the Believers, and it’s never “we must not have been ready yet in God’s eyes” but something else, always something else. Because the fault could never possibly be with the Believers, could it? Everything is always someone else’s fault with these people, which is an especially egregious lack of responsibility and accountability. I’ve never understood the smug “I’m saved” bragging they always do, too. Um, faith without works is dead? Ever hear that part? You’re supposed to humble yourself before God, and baptism doesn’t free you from the sins you commit after. And the whole “if Charles Manson or Stalin or Hitler asked to be forgiven before they died, they’d go to heaven” thing makes literally no sense. Who would want to go to Heaven if Hitler, Stalin or Manson are there?
Add in the “I have to save YOU and lead YOU to Jesus” bullshit arrogance, and yeah–blasphemy and heresy left and right. It is NOT, per their own Bible, for humans to know when their Lord and Savior is returning. So yeah, blasphemy, heresy and pride/arrogance. Good luck at your pearly gates, apostate. I have a deeply and sincerely held faith that you’re all going to hell. See how that works?
But I had a very nice evening revising the manuscript, and it’s going very well. Hearing Scotty in my head again is a delightful thing, and is making it much easier going. I imagine Paul will be late coming home again tonight (he didn’t get home until after I went to bed, so I don’t even know what time he did come home), so I have the evening free to work some more. I did some of the chores last night, too, and I am going to order groceries to be delivered tonight; I am also treating myself to Door Dash for lunch today. I need to empty the dishwasher and reload it tonight, but I did get the laundry finished, too.
Jimmy Kimmel aired last night, but not here in New Orleans as we have a Nexstar ABC affiliate here in New Orleans. I will be writing to them to let them know I will never watch their station again, and I am going to boycott their advertisers. I don’t even like Jimmy Kimmel all that much and I don’t much care for late night talk shows (Fallon is the worst) anyway…but fuck Nexstar and their censorship. How fucking dare you decide what is acceptable for us to see? Yeah, it’s going to be a very strongly worded letter. I may even share it here, who knows?
And shock! Their offices are in Metairie.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning for sure. See you then!
Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel good. Rested, at any rate; we’ll see how long it lasts, won’t we? But the coffee tastes marvelous this morning, the apartment looks better than it has in weeks, and I’m going to have most of the day here at home by myself as Paul is getting some tattoos–he said plural–and so will have a nice writing day, with some touching up around here to begin with. Yesterday was pretty lovely. I did run my errands in the morning, making some groceries and picking up the mail, and it was stunningly gorgeous outside–the way it looks to be this morning, as well. We didn’t really have the hideous September that we usually do, so this unseasonal cool weather has been absolutely lovely. (And by cool, I mean “not humid”) The aches in my hip and ankle joints aren’t present this morning, either. Anyway, he is going to bring home a pizza from Midway on Freret for dinner, and may I just say huzzah? I’ve been wanting one for quite some time, and was even thinking about maybe having one Door Dashed next weekend. Turns out, no need! Yay!
I did have college football on for most of the day, and while some games were good and close and exciting (Auburn-Oklahoma, for one–although Auburn should have won) and of course, the LSU game resulted in a massive blowout of Southeastern Louisiana, 56-7, I think the final score was? After one quarter the Tigers were up only 7-0, but scored four times in the second quarter to go in at halftime leading 35-0 and looking better than they have all year so far…again, it’s not like it was an SEC opponent, but this is the kind of score LSU expects playing an overmatched foe like SLU. We then watched the end of Miami-Florida (I am an SEC homer, but never root for Florida unless they are playing another non-SEC team I despise), which Miami won, dropping Florida to 1-3 for the year. Clemson also lost yet again, dropping to 1-3 as well–so how is LSU ranked Number 3 when their best opponents are a combined 2-6? As I always say, the rankings this early in the season are incredibly stupid and meaningless. Tulane also got blown out by Mississippi in Oxford, where LSU has to play next week for the 2:30 time slot. We’ll see how that goes; we’ve not won in Oxford in a while. 2019 season, perhaps? I know we lost the last time we went up there, with Jayden Daniels and that insanely high scoring game. We shall see, shall we not?
As September is all too rapidly rushing to a close, I picked out my TBR pile for October and my annual Halloween Horror Month, where I try to consume as much horror media as I can. I picked out too many books, of course, especially given the glacial pace I’ve been reading at for the last few months. I also spent some time reading yesterday, dipping in and out of Shirley Jackson’s delightful Life Among the Savages, and being amazed at her incredibly unique and magical voice. I am looking forward to my annual reread of The Haunting of Hill House, too. It’ll be nice to dip into another genre after focusing on crime for so long, to be honest. I’d like to write more horror, I have an idea for a repurposing of a horror novel I started back in the 1990s and never finished, But I need to finish this Scotty, and then there are a couple of other novels I want to get done first.
I also realized yesterday that one of the reasons I always feel lazy, and like I will never catch up, is because I have so many story and novel ideas that I will never get to, so when I don’t spend every waking moment writing…I feel like a lazy slug wasting his talents.
I also read deeper into The Hunting Wives yesterday, which I am really enjoying–it’s dramatically different from the show and I really like that–and hope to get some more reading done this morning before cleaning up and getting back into the writing saddle.
And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back here in the morning.
Work at home Friday, and my alarm kitty let me sleep in a few extra hours, so praise be at the very least, right? I do feel a bit fatigued this morning–my hip joints and legs ache a bit–but hopefully that won’t impact the day too terribly. I have some data entry to do and quality assurance to check off my to-do list. I have some errands to run, too–making groceries and the mail–which I will do after I get my work done. It looks to be sunny outside this morning; we’ve not had rain in a while, and there’s none in the forecast, either. As much as it rained in July and early August, we’re still almost in a drought in southeastern Louisiana. Wild that we’ve not had enough precipitation down here to stave off a drought…but it’s also why the humidity dialed back these past few weeks.
I finished reading the manuscript last night and made lots of notes, so I am also hoping to make a lot of progress this weekend on getting it finished, or at least much closer to the finish line. I was pretty tired when I got home from work–being client-facing in the clinic for thirty-two hours is a lot–and so ensconced myself with the manuscript and my lap kitty into my easy chair while catching up on the news, before watching the first episode of this season’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, which somehow manages to keep the original spirit of these shows–delusional, petty women who create drama out of nothing–without somehow ruining it in some way. I’m pretty sick of most of the others, and it is true that Bravo will try to milk every single penny out of a franchise rather than letting it die a natural death when it’s time. It’s the way of American television, after all. I also slept deeply and well–the exhaustion, most likely–and so am hoping to get a lot done today.
First things first, though–I need a new to-do list.
This week saw the most horrifying example of government overreach and censorship perhaps in our nation’s history, directly violating the First Amendment. I was also extremely disappointed to see ABC/Disney caving in to a government demand, particularly when you think about how firm and steadfast progressive support for Disney has been when they’ve faced boycott threads from the Hard Right. Is this the same fucking company that filmed Johnny Tremain? As far as I am concerned, I would have sued the complaining Hard Right affiliates for breach of contract or cut off their national ABC feed. You can’t make money without any content, can you? The fact that major network affiliate companies have just publicly admitted that they don’t support free speech and filter content with an agenda for their audiences means they shouldn’t be allowed to be in broadcasting, period. You either take all of our content, or you get none of it, would be my position. Obviously, my view and opinion on how all of this works is uninformed and possibly naïve, since I don’t know how this stuff works, but when a media company goes on the record making demands of talent and makes threats? I really don’t think you should be in business when you’re on the record as pro-censorship of ideas and speech you don’t like. Disney used to always play hardball and always won. This cowardice in the face of authoritarianism and the fall of the Constitution is something I personally will never forget. And going to their theme park in the middle of Disease Central? No fucking thanks.
Never ever forget that corporations are soulless entities only interested in profit and power, for all that the Supreme Court had determined they count as a person…although a person who cannot face criminal charges or jail time. How precisely does that kind of personhood work? Sad that corporations have more legal protections than people, isn’t it? And isn’t that really the bottom-line problem in this country, after its systemic racism and dedication to preserving white supremacy and the American heresy?
I’ve also gone back to my old standard rule of social media: if you come across my feed talking stupid-ass shit, I am going to not engage but just block you. Yesterday I saw an author stupidly claiming that this recent outrage wasn’t a First Amendment violation but a business decision. This woman, who clearly is too stupid to understand anything, has had some shitty takes before–but I have no time or patience for anyone who is that stupid…so out the airlock she went, and not sorry to see her stupid flat unwashed ass go, in all honesty. Here’s hoping this helps my sanity going forward and stops me from wasting my time.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow most likely.
Oh, look, yet ANOTHER sexy image of St. Sebastian. At least he hasn‘t been “penetrated” yet by the arrows…
Thursday and my last day in the office for this week, and I actually worked in the clinic every day this week, including today! Look at me going hard, right?
Speaking of which, I’ve learned so many new things about the Right since last week’s murder on campus that I really did not need to know. I had a vague idea of what a groyper was; I also knew it involved that stupid frog image. I did know what an incel was, too, but I had no fucking idea how far out there it got, and while I could have easily gone for the rest of my life happily not being aware of any of this shit, well, now I know. I don’t think it has made me any smarter or more knowledgeable. The “transmaxxing”1 stuff? Holy fuck-balls, Batman! I think I’m just going to file all of this knowledge I gained without my complete consent under “Things I Will NEVER Understand” in my memory file cabinet. Hopefully this will be one of those things I forget.
But it never works quite like that, does it?|
And to think, I went down that wormhole thinking it might make an interesting background for some fiction. Yeah, no fucking thanks.
I’m tired this morning–and while mentally I am fine, physically I feel some fatigue. I was pretty worn out when I got home from work yesterday, read more of the manuscript (lord, the revisions are going to be a bitch and a half), and hung out with the Cuddle-bug kitty before watching the season premiere of The Morning Show, which opens in the summer of 2024, pre-Olympics…a period that will be interesting to revisit. It also set me to thinking about 2024 in a reflective, detached way; certainly there has been some distance (it does seem like another lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) and remembering again why I hate George Clooney with an undying, white-hot passion that will never cool. Remember that asshole and his op-ed in the New York Times last summer? And as authoritarian censorship starts to take hold in the country–thanks again, George! How is this regime working out for you in your Italian country estate? Oh, yes, that’s right– you’re rich enough that nothing really changes for you and you never have consequences, shithead. I also have noted that he’s been silent about politics and the state of the world ever since then. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Always remember his tax bracket is the one doing the best under this regime.2
There seems to be a plethora of things for us to watch over the course of the weekend; it’s always lovely when a show we enjoy returns.
I generally am not one to get emotional over the death of a celebrity, and at most, I feel a pang of oh that’s a shame. Robert Redford’s death announcement was one of those; he lived a very long life, kept his private life very private, and had some views I agreed with. I also enjoyed his film work, and always thought he was underrated because he made it look easy and he was stunningly beautiful; it is very rare when someone is that good-looking to be taken seriously as an actor. Maybe I’ll rewatch The Sting tomorrow while doing quality assurance. I saw that in the theater back when it was in release, and really enjoyed it. I did see some Redford films during my Cynical 70’s Film Festival during the pandemic (Three Days of the Condor, The Candidate, and All the President’s Men), and became even more impressed with his ability to command the screen and deliver a layered performance that was believable. (I also love The Way We Were, despite some of my misgivings about the plot and story and characters; maybe someday I’ll do a longer essay about The Way We Were.)
There will never be another Robert Redford, for sure.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning!
Screenshot
Please–take my word for it and do not look this up, tempting as it may be. ↩︎
Same with Susan Sarandon, may she rot in hell for eternity. ↩︎
You’ve got to ro-oh-oll me, call me the tumbling dice…
Good morning out there to my daily (or periodic) Constant Readers! I really didn’t want to get up this morning, in all honesty; it was so comfortably cozy under my blanket pile and Sparky was cuddling (and only occasionally attacking my feet), which was very blissful. My legs feel a little fatigued this morning, which isn’t a good sign for my fatigue. But yesterday at work wasn’t at all bad, or a struggle to get through; it actually went by pretty quickly and I had energy when I got home. I got started on my chores (didn’t finish them) and sat in my chair to read with Sparky in my lap, and of course, the purring curled up kitty puddle started putting me to sleep. I woke up at just past nine and went up to bed before Paul even got home from the office.
I read deeper into the manuscript (before dozing off last night), and it’s not bad; it’s just kind of awkward and unpolished, which naturally is a bit of a relief about the revisions that need to be done in addition to the chapters that need to be finished before I can turn it in. I am taking it with me to work to read over lunch and breaks, and may get started on writing the rest of it tonight. LSU has one of those throwaway games this weekend–against Southeastern Louisiana, out of Hammond–so while I do want to watch (if it’s even on television) it’s not one of the big games of the season and I am not even sure who else is playing this weekend. I’ve not even bothered to look into who’s playing yet! I hope to have a successful writing/editing weekend; fingers crossed!
One can hope, at any rate.
My creativity is coming back, though; which usually happens when I am coming down to the wire on another project. Working on that short story to finish it Monday night kicked that door open–not like it was, back in the day, but I’ll take it–and started thinking about other short stories to write and what to work on with this book and how to get it all under control and working and something that my Constant Readers will like. I think I am going to finish Chlorine after this; probably work on it and Muscles at the same time, most likely. I also have some short stories I want to finish by the end of the year, and it has been a very hot minute since my last newsletter, hasn’t it? The Katrina one was, I think, the last one; and that was around two-three weeks ago, wasn’t it? I am really at sea; did Bouchercon and the return of the fatigue really set me that far back on everything?
Apparently so.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday (mine already feels like a Thursday) and I shall return on the morrow. Cheerio!
The sack of Constantinople by the 4th Crusade, 1204
I love this song still to this very day. It came out during a time where nostalgia was big–especially the 1950s–and the Beach Boys had just made another comeback and their album Endless Summer was a huge hit. The song is very reminiscent of the Beach Boys–all that California sun and surf and cheerfulness and high school hops–but there was a melancholy under all that cheerful nostalgia, especially with the background refrain, oft-repeated through it, of do you remember? do you remember? (The song also come out around the same time as a book called What Really Happened to the Class of 65? and I always associated the song with the book.)
It is Tuesday morning and I am up early, as always, swilling coffee and eating coffee cake, care of Costco. I did finish editing that story, and got it turned in. I hope the editor likes it. I had the idea for it many years ago–not that long, but it seems like it now–and started writing it, getting a draft done before wondering where to try to sell it. I was going to submit it to the Minneapolis Bouchercon anthology I edited, putting it through the anonymous read process as I did for the New Orleans and St. Petersburg ones because it would look like “insider pool” if I was accepted. (I have not submitted to a Bouchercon anthology since being told this, by the way. If their board thinks I would just automatically put my own story in there instead of following the same procedure as everyone else? I don’t need to be in any of their anthologies in the future.) I’ve had the idea for a long time–going back to when I actually lived in Minneapolis, which is where I also came up with the title, which is one of my favorites of all my titles. I did try selling some other places, but the story was still…not quite right, and was rejected, as it should have been. I think I was able to fix it, but…we’ll have to see. But it felt good to work on it, and I also realized that just because it doesn’t “feel” the same to write and edit as it used to, doesn’t mean I’m not doing good work. I’ve changed, both physically and mentally, and that’s going to make things seem different to me than how they used to work, you know?
Yesterday wasn’t a bad day, you know. We weren’t as busy at work as I had expected, primarily from no-shows and last minute reschedules, so I wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work and worked on the story. I didn’t do any chores–the kitchen somehow exploded again, I don’t know how all this happens, honestly–so when I get home tonight I can’t write or read or even catch up on the news until those chores are completed. I hate when the downstairs is a mess, and the whole apartment, when it’s out of order, feels very cramped and small and claustrophobic. Because I am all about the claustrophobia? Apparently so. I slept well again last night and don’t feel terribly sleepy or tired this morning, which is a good thing. Sparky was a combination cuddle-bug/attack kitty this morning before I got up, and went into attack mode again while I was putting my shoes on. I think Paul will be working late at the office tonight, if I am not mistaken, and so it’ll be time for some bonding time after I write (or while I read and edit). I doubt I’ll be catching up on the news; the current story dominating the legacy “media” doesn’t interest me, nor am I interested in being shamed for not mourning someone who advocated me being stoned to death, either. (Miss me with the “he didn’t say that!” Okay, then, tell me one positive thing he ever said about queer rights and equality. I’ll wait.)
The story not getting this fawning, wall-to-wall coverage from the legacy media? How about the two men lynched on consecutive days in Mississippi? The Mississippi “police” already determined the Black college student’s death had “no evidence of foul play.” Really? The other victim was a white homeless man, and their names were, respectively, Trey Reed of Delta State University and Cory Zukatis. After all, it’s not like the Mississippi police have a history of covering up hate crimes or anything. (eye roll to infinity)
We are living in dark times, indeed.
And on that grim note, I am heading into the spice mines. Stay safe, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.
Queer and Loathing in America 