Category: editing

Stoned Love

Sunday and here we go. Yesterday was a decent day, even if I did wear myself out. I couldn’t find my wallet Thursday, and couldn’t find it anywhere. So, as much as I wanted to put off dealing with until Monday, I got a wild hair of responsibility and took care of things. I canceled my credit and debit cards, then Paul and I drove out to ABC Title in Metairie for me to replace my real ID (and get him one). We picked up the mail (and the chopping/slicing/dicing device I’d ordered arrived), we went to the grocery store since I had no way of paying for them, and then came home. As Paul lugged the groceries in because I was exhausted, he checked our mailbox…

And my wallet was in there. (Thank you, whoever found it and put it there.)

I’d checked just to be safe on the way out to do everything, and it wasn’t there.I am glad it was returned, but man! If only a few hours earlier a lot of hassle for me wouldn’t have been necessary. And I have to wait for my credit and debit card replacements to arrive in the mail over the next two weeks. Ah, there are worse things, and at least they didn’t take the (now invalid) cards, you know? I even ordered a new wallet on line, which is fine. The old one has been pretty beaten up and trashed over the years.

Oh, and the new Real ID? With my weight loss, it is easily the worst state picture for an ID I have ever taken.

My brain was scrambled and tired when we got back, so I kind of didn’t do as much as I could have yesterday. I did some cleaning and straightening, but I also rewatched Aladdin, and finished reading that abominable Dana Girls mystery, Mystery at the Crossroads, which will be featured in my newsletter soon. My mind and creativity are trying to make a comeback–I did take some notes down for an essay I am writing, trying to get my thoughts better organized and even had a breakthrough on how to open it. But my energy reserves are so low, it’s hard for me to even think about doing anything once I get the necessary things done every day (like going to work; I’ll be seeing clients this week–we’ll see how that goes as my job duties start picking up again).

I slept decently last night–I also fell asleep in my chair again last night and Paul woke me up to go to bed–so I am hoping today will be a good day. I did manage to get some things done around here yesterday (progress is progress, however slow it may be) and I do have a ZOOM call with my editor this morning at eleven, so I’m hoping to get some things done this morning since I am up so early. Coffee is starting to taste better, but I need to clean the Keurig out since it sat unused for so long. That probably has something to do with the coffee taste, you know?

I hope this is going to be a good week. I have to take it one day at a time, of course–some days are better than others, and I need to pace myself and take things easier and not try not to be Energizer Bunny Greg and wear myself out, you know? The kitchen still needs work–as does the filing–and maybe I’ll try to get some writing done today, if my brain doesn’t end up scrambling on me.

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

The view from the Vieux Carré Room in the Hotel Monteleone

If You Could Read My Mind, Love

Work at home Friday, with a Costco trip after I get my work done! I also have to get some blood work done today (yay! my arms will continue looking hideous before all these bruises heal at long last; good thing I am far too old to be vain anymore), but c’est la vie. Que sera sera, and all of that. I also have to run by the office–I forgot some paperwork I need to work on, and I can’t find my wallet. It’s not in the house and it’s not in the car, so the only place it can be is at the office; although I looked for it there yesterday and couldn’t find it. Sigh.

You may have noticed lately that the images I’ve been adding to my blog so there’s a thumbnail image on social media have not been muscular men. Honestly? I’m kind of bored of them, to be honest. There’s a gradual sameness after a while, and I also recognize that sharing images of impossibly built young men whose entire lives revolve around maintaining that look (that most people can never achieve) may be contributing to some toxic body image issues for some men; I know I spent years trying to be physically perfect and always coming up short because of my own body image issues (there are some pictures of me from when I was really lean that I originally saw and thought, maybe another ten pounds? but now I look at them and scream eat something bitch!). So I thought I’d take a break and start using other images that I find interesting–and I have tons of pictures I’ve taken around New Orleans over the years. Maybe I’ll go back to hot guys again, but right now I’m just not feeling that.

In other exciting news, I’ve been looking for Chapter Ten of the new Scotty and not been finding it anywhere…to the point I was beginning to think maybe I hadn’t written it after all. I FOUND IT YESTERDAY MORNING! Huzzah! I was worried, since I’ve blown the deadline and the extended deadline…which is why I am having a ZOOM meeting with my editor on Sunday. I really need to get back on the writing horse sooner rather than later. But the enforced break caused by my illness again gave me lots of time to think about things, especially my writing career, and also allowed the stirrings of ambition to start rising again. Not a bad thing, really. I have to finish this Scotty and there are two others that I want to finish drafts of by the end of the year–possible, always possible–and I also want to get back into writing short stories.

And reading. I need to get back to reading, and the sooner the better. Saturday I am planning on reading my own manuscript while working on the house, and hopefully I can also dig further into Christa Faust’s The Get Off, which is superb. Some people very kindly sent me books while I was in the hospital and they all look good: Vertigo by Boileau-Jercerac (yes, the basis for the Hitchcock film); They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran; People of Means by Nancy Johnson; On Spine of Death by Tamera Berry; The Lilac People by Milo Todd; and Disco Witches of Fire Island by Blair Fell; all of which look interesting…so I must get back to reading very intensely!

I made myself a cappuccino this morning and it is very good; the taste for coffee clearly coming back–and if not, hey, I can just make a cappuccino every morning, can’t I? Yum! I feel a bit more rested this morning–Sparky let me sleep an extra hour before becoming obnoxious. But he’s also sleeping with me now, which he didn’t used to do–mainly, I think, to track my movements in case I get up to feed him–but hey, I’ll take it.

If you enjoyed Andor, I highly recommend watching Rogue One again; the series enhances the movie significantly, and makes it even more powerful. Paul and I both agreed, and I love how the TV show flows into the movie and then into Star Wars (I will never call the original anything else). When Star Wars clicks, it’s excellent; unfortunately, it doesn’t always click, alas.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

Statue of Pharaoh Khafre, Egyptian Museum

American Pie

…drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry.

Which also doesn’t make sense; levees are neither wet nor dry, simply an earthen man-made wall to keep water in or out. I do wish I had a twenty, though, for every class where we had to dissect the meaning of “American Pie.”

I feel good today, and alert, and like I can get things done today. I wasn’t tired physically yesterday, but there was some mental fatigue so I didn’t get much writing done. It was literally like banging my head into a brick wall, but I did get almost a thousand words done. We also finished watching The White Lotus, which was good and interesting and all, but was it great? I don’t know, but the acting was on fire, which was terrific. We then spent the rest of the evening watching news clips of the world burning to the ground (my favorite are the tears of the MAGA grifters losing money now; sucks to be you, live by the MAGA die by the MAGA), and ironically, I started thinking about the book and the closed door in my brain that had been constraining and holding back everything I was trying to do with this book suddenly burst open in my head and I know exactly what to do with this book going forward. Huzzah! Now to get the words down…

As you may well also remember, I am researching the 1970s (mostly the early to mid) for my next book, and yesterday I went down the wormhole of short-shorts for men. The 1970s wasn’t maybe the best time for men’s fashions, but for the first time in a long time men’s clothes became more showy, and everything was super-tight, to show off the bodies. (Sadly, most men still neither worked out much–and those who did, often skipped leg day so they really didn’t have much of an ass to show off in their tight jeans.) Shorts were short–sometimes barely covering the full butt cheeks, and those ragged strings everyone had in their cut-offs that were barely more than a square cut today. It was a tragic decade for fashion–for most styles of everything, really. Cars were big and ugly, so was furniture, and the middle class’s tract homes all looked the same with the dark shag carpeting, the wood paneling (even on some cars!), and linoleum. And the memories these forays into research wormholes bring back! And the nice thing is those memories aren’t painful anymore? So what if I didn’t have any real friends because most everyone was afraid of fag cooties? I read a lot of books, made up a lot of stories, and was always able to entertain myself so I was never lonely. Sometimes I would just pick out a kids’ mystery to reread. I didn’t leave the house much, really, other than for school or the occasional shopping foray with my mom until we started going back to church (a tale for another time). But I didn’t get into trouble, I kept to myself, and it didn’t bother me that I was solitary because…my natural default is solitary. Whether solitude was meant to be my default, or not minding being alone developed it that way or not, is a mystery for the ages.

And now that I’ve grown up into a published author, I find that I really do prefer solitude. It’s lovely to get together with people I care about, but…much as I enjoy that (and I do), I wouldn’t miss it terribly if it went away tomorrow and I spent the rest of my life as a hermit in my apartment. Oh, probably enforced solitude would probably not be my thing either, but it’s something one can dream about, at any rate.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely little Tuesday, and I’ll be back to check in with you again tomorrow for Pay the Bills Wednesday!

Don’t Cry Out Loud

..when you check your 401k. I checked mine yesterday, which is risk-adverse and there’s not much in it, and it was still a shock. Mine had declined in value by 10%–and it’s risk averse. I can only imagine what happened to those that were higher risk/higher reward but also higher potential for loss.

Remember how the Republicans have always wanted to make social security investment accounts, just like they changed pensions to investment accounts under Reagan? How’s that working out for y’all? They have never had the best interests of the American people at heart, ever.

Gah.

We’re supposed to have thunderstorms all day today, which will be a nice way of dealing with the humidity we’ve been “enjoying” over the last few weeks. It’s also supposed to be in the fifties at night this week, which means better sleep. I slept pretty well this weekend, Sparky getting me up early for food but I’ve also been going to bed early every night; really getting tired around nine these last few nights and dozing off in the bed. We finished watching The Residence last night, which I highly recommend. It’s a witty, well done, and deeply clever murder mystery set in the White House, and it’s very Agatha Christie. WE then started watching season three of The White Lotus, which everyone has been talking about; we’d started season one but gave up after the first episode. Parker Posey is perfectly cast, as is everyone else; and God, Patrick Schwarzenegger’s character is such a douche bro; I despise him so far, about three or four episodes in? LSU also won their regional final yesterday was yet another score over 198.00; this is their sixth straight competition with a score of that or higher–and they left points on the board yesterday. GEAUX TIGERS!

I just looked out the windows and the sidewalk is wet, and it hasn’t rained…which means the humidity must be getting unbearable outside. I am looking forward to the thunderstorms arriving, because that’s when I am going to curl up under my blankets and read some more. I wanted to go to yesterday’s protests, but correctly assessed in the morning that I was fatigued, and other than some chores, I wasn’t going to get much of anything done. I’d planned to run an errand, but stayed inside and rested, hence the television bingeing. I hate that I wasn’t able to go; but I feel rested and good this morning (so far) so maybe it will last and I can get things done. There was insane turnout yesterday all across the country (and even across Louisiana!), and of course, it was largely ignored by State Media (Fox) and State Media-lite (everyone else). The utter failure of the legacy media to meet this moment in US History will be studied for centuries, provided the coming collapse of the United States doesn’t result in the world being plunged into a reoccurrence of the Dark Ages.

I hate that I am now so old that I can’t even go to protests anymore. But the massive turnout nation-wide yesterday gives me some hope–even as cishet white people don’t seem to quite understand what protests are, and they can be dangerous? Especially under this administration? Everyone who actually was able to attend yesterday was basically putting their bodies, lives and freedom on the line to take a stand; for those of you who still don’t get it try googling Kent State, or any of the protest marches in Alabama in the 1960s. The insanity I saw yesterday on social media–I still can’t believe the “bouncy house” thread was serious–just is another indication of why most marginalized communities don’t trust the cishet whites. One of the reasons I don’t feel sympathy for any MAGA voter with regrets or pulling the “I didn’t vote for this” Pilate handwashing of their crimes–is because you did vote for this. He didn’t lie to you about any of this. He told you he was going to do all of this, but he did lie about everyone getting rich; but…he was talking about rich people and corporations, not the voters who worship him. Sorry not sorry I don’t believe your claims that you aren’t transphobic or racist or homophobic now and were just misled; any rational adult could see you were being given Flavor-Ade to drink and were lapping it all up and asking for more. I feel so owned, you have no idea.

And on that cheery note, I am going to head into the spice mines while I wait for the thunderstorms to arrive (although the sun has just come out again). I have cleaning to do and taxes to organize, and I had hoped to make it to the gym today…but my shoulder is feeling sore again, so probably best to stay home and rest it, I guess. I hate being frail. I doubt I’ll be back before the morrow, so have a lovely Sunday fun day and I will see you in the morning.

Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)

Saturday morning and I have a couple of errands to do this morning. I need to go by the bank (I haven’t made a deposit in person in eons) and I have to swing by the grocery store. Sigh. I really didn’t want to leave the house today, but here we are. It’s also a struggle these days to get through as we go through and experience the collapse of the American experiment in self-rule. I think another significant part of our history that isn’t taught the way it should be is we aren’t taught about how many Tories there were in the colonies during the lead up to and aftermath of the Revolution. We aren’t taught New England threatened to secede during the War of 1812, or that there were people on both sides of the Civil War1 that sympathized with the other side; North and South weren’t monoliths the way we are taught. We aren’t taught about how many Americans were Nazi sympathizers and isolationists before Pearl Harbor, using the slogan “America First”–so you see why I have always raised a cynical eyebrow whenever anyone uses that slogan; it was tied to Nazi sympathizers to me.

Watching the collapse of our country is challenging and more than a little bit depressing. It is terrible that just as I approach the age of retirement and the final chapter of my life…well, the retirement may turn out to be involuntary, as my clinic’s funding is definitely on the chopping block, Social Security is about to be looted and destroyed, and I don’t want to even look at the paltry 401k, which has also probably evaporated. No job and no retirement funds is going to be awesome when I turn 64. Paul got the notice from the NEH to not bother applying for grant funding, as it’s all been cut, so his job may not survive this, either–no more festivals in the spring. So, miss me with “we need to be nice to MAGA voters now finding out”–fuck them now and forever. I will never forgive them, and their suffering lightens mine. You want to embrace them, be my guess. Me? I will never stop laughing and pointing, let alone mocking them and enjoying their tears. My patience has worn out for ignorant haters, sorry not sorry– and as they so eloquently put it, “fuck your feelings.”

Yesterday was a nice day, overall. I got up, had a virtual meeting at work, and then did my Admin work before running some errands. I got that done, and then Paul and I made a Costco run and spent an insane amount of money. After getting home, lugging everything into the house and putting it all away, I was tired. I collapsed into my chair for a while as Paul went upstairs to work on the NEH grant–but got the email so didn’t have to bother for the rest of the evening and we dove further into The Residence, which I am greatly enjoying. Uzo Adoba is fantastic as Cordelia Copp, the world’s greatest detective, and it’s very well cast, high production values, and the writing is quite crisp. The chief usher at the White House (the divine Giancarlo Esposito) is murdered during a state dinner, and Cordelia is brought in to solve the murder. I think what’s most interesting is the divide between the White House domestic staff v. the White House political staff; the domestics work for the House, the political staff comes and goes. I’d never really thought much about the staff of the residence, so it’s an interesting look at how that all works, and it’s very cleverly structured. Highly recommend.

I do have some errands to do today, and a lot of straightening up to do as well. I want to get some reading and writing in this morning, so I can go to the gym tomorrow (I know, right?) and get some more done. I’ve been letting things slide a lot lately, which probably means I am depressed, which isn’t surprising, given the state of the world and everything else going on in my life. I think there’s an element of why bother with this book, to be honest, which is counter-productive and quite self-destructive, but it’s hard to be productive when your default is almost always pessimism. I always knew Republicans were working very hard to destroy everything decent about this country (unfettered capitalism is sociopathic in nature), but I never dreamed they might actually succeed. To paraphrase Game of Thrones: “Whenever I wonder why the Republicans would do something so counter-productive to democracy, I like to play a little game: what is the worst reason they would want to do this?”

Littlefinger was right, even if he did end up with his throat slit for his treachery.

Yesterday I also realized that one of the great American traditions, going back to colonial days, of evading paying duties and tariffs was smuggling. I used to love to read about Colonial smugglers (John Hancock was one), and some great fiction was built up around smuggling. I’ve always thought the years of Prohibition (and alcohol smuggling) in New Orleans would be an interesting time to write about. That decade saw the rise of Huey Long to power in Louisiana, and there are some fantastic stories about that post-Storyville time here. Jean Lafitte was a pirate, too–but he was also a very successful smuggler. But again, one of the great problems of New Orleans/Louisiana research is going down wormholes and sidebars–my ADHD does not matters at all in this regard; I do remember wanting to write about “Mrs. Officer,” the first woman cop in New Orleans, who was hired because they needed a woman to search and interrogate criminal women, which was a problem during Storyville days. I mean, what a great decade to research and write about! Imagine what “Mrs. Officer”2 endured in terms of misogyny as the only woman cop in an era where women couldn’t vote.

There’s also a protest today scheduled in New Orleans, as well as around the country. I’m hoping to make it, it just depends on how tired I am after getting things done this morning. I feel pretty good right now, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t flag later, either.

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

  1. This is a classic example of why I say we don’t teach history properly (which will end up being a longer-form essay for my newsletter at some point). There were plenty of Tories during the American Revolution. There were Southern sympathizers in the North and Unionists in the South–I knew about the North, but whenever I’d come across that about the South I figured it was after-the-fact apologia, excusing Southern whites for their inhumanity. But over the least few years as I’ve done more deep dives into Alabama history, and hearing more old family stories, I’ve come to realize it was actually true. Erik Larson discusses this in more detail in his The Demons of Unrest, which I do recommend. ↩︎
  2. SHe was always referred to as “Mrs. Officer,” which also makes a great title. ↩︎

Knock on Wood

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I can go in a little later than usual this morning, so I am sipping my coffee and eating my morning slice of marble coffee cake (from Rouses, and I love it) and slowly trying to get it together this morning before I hit the road for the office. I did some work last night, and some chores when I got home, but feel a little tired this morning–moving kind of slow here at the junction–but I can come straight home from the office tonight and I am going to get some work done tonight. Tomorrow is my work-at-home, and I have a department meeting to get through also. I can live with it. I think we’re also going to Costco this weekend (got to stock up before prices start rising uncontrollably, thanks again, MAGA trash voters), and I really need to pull it together for myself. The auction is still making money (the auction is closed but the donate button is still active), which is super-awesome, and very uplifting. Obviously, it doesn’t mean everyone who donated and everyone who bid are actually allies through and through, but it’s something, and I am not going to be cynical about raising over 300% of our goal. Woo-hoo, way to go, everyone! A bright light shining through these steadily darkening times.

It was very windy yesterday and we are having high winds again today, which is odd. It’s also much warmer than it usually is around this time of year, which is also odd, and definitely problematic for the looming summer. Sigh, and everything is going to be more expensive, including power (thanks again, MAGA!). The two grocery runs I made this week came out to over $140 combined, and I didn’t really get all that much, which completely sucks. I was tired when I got home from work yesterday, and wrote for a little while until I got stuck. I still got in over a thousand words, so I am calling that a win.

This week, a recovery from the festivals week, also involved the auction–not to mention the easy to see it coming second Great Depression–so it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster and now that all the adrenaline has died off, I am a bit worn down, which is why I think I am physically tired and a little mentally fatigued. The day is going to be relatively easy, overall; we’re not busy in the clinic today and I should be able to get a lot of paperwork and admin stuff taken care of, and I get to go home an hour early, which is terrific. Sparky will certainly appreciate it, and I want to get some chores done tonight. I need to do another load of laundry, and the dishes, pick up around the apartment, and take out garbage and so forth. Sigh. We also have a department meeting tomorrow morning that I can join remotely. Sigh.

I also have to get back to reading my current reads. I was enjoying both The Get Off and Moonraker, so I want to get them done soon. Moonraker is more interesting in the juxtaposition between the tone and tenor of the books vs the silliness of the movies. It is very much of its time, and the whole “gentlemenly” approach to the spy genre is snobbish. classist, and yet still interesting in a weird, classist elitist kind of way; the whole gentility thing they still have across the pond is something we’ve never quite adapted completely, which isn’t a bad thing. It’s been tried before, obviously, and some are still trying; the Boston Club and other organizations like it dot New Orleans–because of Carnival krewes. Carnival krewes were, from the very beginning, nothing more than an extension/adaptation of the men’s clubs in London, which I will definitely need to talk about when I write my essay about revisiting the novel.

And on that groggy note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Thursday be free of drama and full of joy, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

You don’t sing me love songs…anymore.

I had been waiting to hear about an anthology I sold a story to (they asked me to keep it quiet until further notice), but had never did so I could never mention it. But it was announced; they just hadn’t tagged me. Anyway, the anthology is Celluloid Crimes, and will be released this summer from Level Best Books. My story is “The Last To See Him Alive,” which actually now is the first, revised chapter of Chlorine, which, if you’re wondering, I’ve never stopped thinking about or working on since I first brought it up on my blog six or seven years ago. Over the weekend, I did confess to someone that I have about six or seven novels currently in progress; Chlorine is definitely one of them. In fact, taking Chapter One and turning it into a stand-alone short story also triggered some creativity in my brain, and that helped the entire novel take shape, and now I know what the middle part will be, and the end will become even more poignant and noir-ish with these necessary changes to the story. Huzzah! More about the story and the anthology as it nears its publication date.

The auction for the Transgender Law Center concluded last night, and we raised over $58,000! I have to admit being enormously pleased and proud of the organizing committee as well as all the people who donated items and those who bid on them. Well done, everyone! This project began two or three years ago (it was before my arm surgery, I do know that much–I have no grasp or concept of time anymore–but other than that? Pfffft.) and it’s kind of hard to believe it’s over and done with at last. I didn’t do that much–the driving forces were truly Susanna Calkins, Sandra SG Wong, Ellison Cooper (Jen Dornan-Fish), Cheryl Head, and Ed Aymar. The group was exceptionally fun to work with, despite my on-going issues, and I didn’t contribute nearly as much as I ordinarily do when I am volunteering because of my on-going issues, but my fellow organizers were so efficient and on top of things I didn’t need to, which was lovely. It was truly a great group, and our advisory board (including spokesperson Robyn Gigl, Brenda Buchanan, and John Copenhaver) were also amazing and hard-working. What a lovely experience this was indeed.

I did get some writing done last night, but not nearly enough. After driving uptown to get the mail and then making groceries, I was pretty fried by the time I got home, so wasn’t really able to resist Sparky’s meowing insistence that I get in my chair and let him sleep in my lap, so I did. We continued watching Mid-century Modern, and you know, not every joke lands nor does every scene necessarily work, but all the actors are clearly having a good time with it, and Matt Bomer is absolutely perfect as the beautiful, former Mormon flight attendant who is actually very sweet and a little like Rose from The Golden Girls, completely without guile and literal. Nathan Lane can be a bit histrionic, but he’s Nathan Lane; always charming and likable. Such a shame Linda Lavin died, because she’s terrific as Lane’s mother–and was probably going to at least be nominated for an Emmy. But Nathan Lee Graham steals the entire show as a former fashion editor who is very quick-witted in that bitchy sarcastic way that so many of us develop as a shell for self-defense. It’s also refreshing to see a show about older gay men who, like The Golden Girls, still are vital and have sex lives and embracing life rather than sliding into self-pity or caricature. These characters would have been easy to play as one-dimensional stereotypes, but it’s a tribute to these actors’ skill that they have heart and are real people. I’m sure it won’t thrill some queer people–nothing ever does, we are notoriously critical of things about us–but it’s nice to see gay men as realized characters on a traditional style sitcom, and definitely a progression from Will and Grace.

I feel better today than I did yesterday; another good night of sleep was had, and this morning I don’t feel any brain fog or exhaustion like I did yesterday. I think I am now acclimating back to my life, which is nice because I also need to get my act together and start getting things done again. This weekend will most likely be restful and lovely as well; and perhaps time to start working on household projects (like cleaning out the attic) so the house can be sort of presentable and livable again. Stranger things have happened, you know. I started writing a tribute to Dorothy Allison for my newsletter, triggered by the tribute reading I did Sunday, as I have been remembering how much she and her work have always meant to me. It’s kind of hard to believe such a force is gone from the world.

Sigh. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Good Times

Up early before the sun, although the sky is beginning to lighten as the days get longer and summer looms, with all of its brutality, just over said horizon. I am feeling rested and more like myself this morning, which will make sliding back into reality and heading into the office a lot easier. I am so glad I took yesterday off. I was so tired yesterday I don’t even want to remember how that felt. I feel asleep in my easy chair with Sparky in my lap numerous times before I finally stumbled up to be around ten and slept like a rock for a solid eight hours. I’m still a bit disoriented, but by the end of the day that should be all sorted out, one way or another.

We finished watching Reacher last night and enjoyed it. This is the character I remember from the books, and the show is very well cast and very well done. Alan Ritchson is perfect for Reacher–acting, physicality, attitude–and I’ve always been a sucker for a paladin, haven’t you? Reacher is the epitome of the lone wolf/mysterious hero who always somehow manages to be in the right spot at the right time to rescue/help someone who needs it. I don’t know that I could write such a character or series, but I certainly have enjoyed Lee Child’s take on the classic paladin trope. I’m already looking forward to season four.

I feel rested today but still a bit disoriented and discombobulated from the weekend and making the transition from Famous Author Greg to regular go to the office every day and do chores Greg. I need to get back on the writing horse and get this fucking book finished (it’s not, and it’s due today, sigh)–it’s funny how every time I get on a roll with it, I get distracted and disturbed away from it. Naught to do but dive back in head first, right? I do have to go run the errands I didn’t run yesterday (too exhausted) on the way home tonight, but hopefully I can get some words in before we finish watching Mid-century Modern, which we started last night. The first episode has some flaws, and got off to a not very good start…but started picking up steam in the latter half and had some surprises–subverting expectations from what is clearly being done in a classic sitcom format (complete with annoying as fuck laugh track); despite setting up a traditional sitcom plot with a gay twist, that’s not where it went, which was a very pleasant surprise, and there were some really good laughs in the second episode. Linda Lavin is the jewel of the cast, playing Nathan Lane’s mother, and the fact she died during production is truly sad. I can see how it might turn some of its intended audience aside, but…can we really justify not even giving it a chance while bitching about our lack of representation in entertainment, let alone in the world of sitcoms? There is no pleasing some gays. My primary critique of Will and Grace was that it sanitized being gay so it wouldn’t scare some viewers–but it was also a network show airing mostly during the Bush years. The show was important, and some of the criticisms directed at it were definitely fair….I’ll probably explore my ambivalence to that show (while recognizing its importance) at some point over on Substack.

I also need to sort out my checkbook, figure out where I am at with things, and put proverbial nose to grindstone.

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

Heart of Glass

Monday morning and I am exhausted. I slept very late this morning–my legs and lower back are still a little achy–but it was needed. I was on fumes by the end of dinner last night, so much so that I literally waited eighteen minutes for a streetcar because my phone had died (again) so I couldn’t summon a Lyft, and there was no way I was going to make it home again on foot. It was also achingly, annoyingly humid all weekend, and so my socks were always damp with sweat, which makes me uncomfortable because I feel gross. Lesson from the weekend: you need to go back to the gym and take walks more, so you can be in better condition for weekends such as this. I can’t remember the last time I felt so dried out and exhausted and as just a husk of a human like I do this morning. But…probably it was last year’s Festivals. Maybe next year I should just stay down there and not commute because it’s so exhausting. Who knows?

I woke up late to a marvelous thunderstorm and downpour, one of those lovely New Orleans storms where you start to imagine what it was like when the rains for Noah’s flood started, and since I took the day off (wisely, as it turned out) I could burrow back down into the blankets and stay there, warm and snug and comfortable. (I did spare a “sorry” thought for all those flying out from New Orleans, as flights were probably delayed, before drifting off again.) I stayed there until Sparky’s desire for breakfast became so overwhelming that I felt bad for how hungry he must be so got up. I did some laundry and walked to Walgreens to get a few things, before deciding “meh, I can make groceries tomorrow on the way home from work and I can get the mail then too” and went back to the easy chair with Sparky to rest for a while. I watched the gold medal performances for the US Figure Skating team at Worlds (the US for the first time in a long time–if not ever–won three golds; ice dance, men’s, and women’s), which was fun and exciting, and then Paul came home and we talked and caught up for a while, so now he’s upstairs making sure there are no smoldering embers that need snuffing out from the weekend. I remembered I hadn’t finished this, so decided to walk away from catching up on the news–it’s so disheartening to come out of a lovely bubble of writing and publishing and friends and talking about books and writing with likeminded others to the harsh reality of this unpleasant time-line we’re in, seriously–and came back into the kitchen as the last load of laundry from the weekend tumbles dry.

Damn, I am tired.

It was a lovely weekend, though, despite being tired and sort of mentally foggy from overstimulation, I think, from Friday night on. I laughed a lot and talked a lot and gossiped a lot, drank more than I usually do (which is none at all), and ate out more than I ever do. (I had fried green tomatoes with shrimp remoulade twice, and am determined to learn how to make this at home; I’d never had the tomatoes in a regular frying batter before; it was always corn meal, like with fried okra; regardless, this reminded me that I really like fried green tomatoes.) It was kind of nice, and the weather was more humid than I would have preferred all weekend, but things were good. My panels went well, I think, as did my reading in the Dorothy Allison Tribute and my congratulatory message to the finalists of the short story anthology–and that reading was lit, as was the poetry reading at the closing reception. I’ll probably talk about the whole weekend more as the week goes on, but it was marvelous spending time with people whom I have a great affection for, as well as meeting some new people who were equally marvelous. I did do a lot of walking, so it’s no surprise my tired old out of shape ass is so wrecked from the weekend. I did remember this same thing happening last year–but I didn’t take Monday off last year, so kudos to past Greg; plus I hate having to call it an early night on Sunday because I have to work the next morning.

I probably will still be a little punchy still for a few more days, but I can deal.

I’ll dig myself out of the bubble tomorrow.

It also seems like a lot happened over the weekend that I wasn’t able to acknowledge properly (like the humiliating rebuke to our fascist governor received from Louisiana’s voters Saturday, mwa-ha-ha) that I do want to talk about some more. I also had some lovely ideas over the weekend, and I also heard some things that made me think that I want to explore further, so yes, there was some serious creative stimulation as well. These two festivals are my safe spaces, where I can relax completely and don’t have to worry about experiencing any kind of bigotry. I was on a panel that I’d really rather explore, too, because it made me think about some things about the past and the present that I’d like to explore a bit more.

And on that note, I am going to bring to a close and rest a bit more. Have a lovely Monday, and I’ll talk with you again tomorrow.

The Gambler

I am off work on this glorious Friday, as I prepare to slip into the Festival weekend. I do have things to do–writing–so I am fortunate that I have my mornings free all weekend, so I can get that writing done. I did have a good writing day yesterday–three thousand words and a whole new chapter, which isn’t bad for a Festival widow. I don’t have any assigned duties today, but I am going to head down for the opening party and there’s a panel at 4 I’d also like to attend. I need to do some writing and some chores here before I head out–as well as some errands to run–but I have some time today and it’s going to be a lovely one, methinks. It’s kind of gray outside this morning, but I think it’s going to be a nice day–even though the weather this weekend may not be the greatest.

I got some work done on the book last night, and I feel good about that, and as always, I am quite convinced it’s terrible work. Someday it would be nice to write something I feel satisfied with immediately after, but maybe that will happen for me at some point in the future. But I feel pretty good this morning, well rested and relaxed and my coffee is just simply superb. I’ve started laundering the bed linens already, Sparky seems content to hang out here by my desk and watch Cat TV out the window, and yes, I know he’s just waiting for me to vacate my desk chair–but at least he’s not being obnoxious about it…yet. There’s still plenty of time, especially since I need to unload the dishwasher and reload it and yes, I have a lot of domestic god things to get done this morning before setting out for the day.

There are worse ways to spend a day, you know?

After finishing my word count for the day yesterday (2700 total), I was pretty worn out and drained. It was a relatively easy day for the clinic, so I was able to get a lot of things caught up so I won’t be as behind when I go back in on Tuesday (I took Monday off also this year; I didn’t the last couple of years and totally regretted it); I’ll just have to catch up on Monday’s paperwork and so forth. So, yes, I am feeling good this morning, and I guess last night’s excellent sleep was due to getting the word count in for once and it was the sleep of the righteous. Ugh, just looking around the apartment this morning…yeah, I need to do some cleaning this morning around the writing.

I am also pleased to report that Crime Writers for Trans Rights met our auction goal on only the second day! We still have several days left for the auction, so get in there and bid bid bid! There’s all kinds of great stuff with very low bids on them, and some items that are awesome haven’t got any yet! I cannot even begin to tell you, Constant Reader, how the response to this auction has sort of (not completely, of course) made me feel a little better about this community I belong to. After the intense disappointments and homophobia I’ve experienced, including from people I thought were friends, my opinion of the crime fiction community was pretty fucking low, and as I said, after the betrayal of the election last November, I’d had it. Let me put it to you in a way that’s more understandable, okay, because I know some people have trouble letting go of their own privilege: when you not only will not call out a friend for saying something homophobic, and actually play along with it, what you are telling your queer friends is we can’t count on you if and when things get bad for us…and that election result was a promise that things were, indeed, going to get bad for us. If you won’t say to your buddy, “dude, that’s not cool and homophobic,” how can I expect you to do a fucking thing in the face of a coordinated government effort to strip me of my rights, my humanity and my citizenship? And joining in tells me you not only won’t do a fucking thing when push comes to shove, but you may actually become an informer.

And how I am supposed to feel safe around you, ever again? For the record, that’s what I mean when I say I don’t feel safe–I don’t trust the people I’m around to have my back in the face of homophobia, which isn’t a good feeling.

But at least my fears of negative responses from people to the auction have proven untrue, and my worries about not meeting our goal were clearly unfounded. It’s nice to be reminded that not everyone in this community is a bigot. Doesn’t mean I’m going to start attending crime fiction community events any time soon; I don’t feel safe there, despite the good people, and no, I will never forget having someone who has claimed to be “one of the good guys” saying faggy to my face at Bouchercon in Toronto, or being told I was “nobody” by Bouchercon programmers (speaking of fucking nobodies and hangers on).

I want to preserve my peace, and why the fuck would I spend that kind of money to go get treated like shit and have no one in the organization care? Which, again, is “you’re nobody.”

But thank you to everyone who donated and to everyone who is bidding for restoring some faith in the community for me.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Friday be everything you want it to be, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.