Category: editing

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.

Tell It To Her

Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It was a lovely weekend, and I had a nice day yesterday. I wrote–working on a short story, a newsletter, and most importantly THE BOOK–and did some things around the house but mostly took it easy. I also dipped into the book I am reading and was charmed instantly, as I knew I would be. We also started watching the new season of Citadel, but I barely remember the first one. It’s very action-packed and moves very quickly, and also has a very top-notch cast. I slept well last night and am feeling good this morning, honestly. The kitchen and apartment are a bit messy, but that’s okay. I am pleased with how this holiday weekend went, and looking forward to seeing Dad this weekend. I’ve still not picked out what I want to listen to in the car, and I didn’t get a newsletter sent out over the weekend, either.

Looks like we’re done with rain, at least for now. No rain for the entire week in the forecast, and I imagine Alabama is going to be miserably hot this weekend–and I must remember to wear a hat when I am outside. (And yes, they are having dangerous heat levels in Alabama, too; we’re currently in a heat advisory and I suspect this is going to be a long and miserable summer, and not just in New Orleans.) I have to try to get things in order since I am going away for a couple of days–nothing major or long, just driving up Thursday and back Saturday–but I hate coming home to a messy, disorganized house. I’ll try to touch up on things Thursday morning before I leave (planning on getting on the road around noon), and I doubt I’ll do much, if any, writing while I am gone. I probably won’t post here until Sunday morning, so prepare for a brief holiday from yours truly’s mad typing on here. I think I am going to listen to Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water in the car going and coming. I blurbed it and read it in galley form several years ago, but all I remember (that illness memory issue again) is that I loved it–Margot is an exceptionally skilled artist–and I want to read the next Sister Holiday, so I am going to revisit it in the car so I can write about it as a Pride selection–and books like the ones Margot writes make me very proud to be a queer crime writer. (It’s been a while since I read the first one–which blew me completely away.)

And I am writing a noir, so it might be helpful to read one of the most literary noir writers of all time. It certainly can’t hurt.

I’m not sure about what I wrote on the book yesterday, if I am going to try to be completely honest. I feel like maybe I started down a possibly wrong path yesterday; but I could be wrong. It might be something that needs to go when it’s time for brutal edits, but I also think it’s important that my character actually have a kind of “safe space”–wouldn’t it make sense for a closeted gay actor in 1950s Hollywood to create a place where he can get away from all the lies and bullshit and Hollywood nonsense? I just worry it may soften him? Or…maybe this part can make how he is in the other parts of the book even more powerful? Living a constant lie is horrible and warps people (look at Lindsey Graham, for one prominent example), not to mention the constant worry about blackmail or another queer selling you out to save themselves–the closet makes people do horrible, horrible things, and that might be the underlying theme I am playing with here: the closet warps and twists people; fear can make you do some crazy-ass things.

And I kind of like that these kinds of thoughts are coming into my head. The loss of anxiety has helped enormously with that; I think I also used to write fast partly so my imposter syndrome wouldn’t have time to kick into gear and make me doubt myself. I like that now, when I question myself about my writing, it’s about choices and character and theme, rather than you’ve got a nerve thinking you can write something like this, which is what it used to be and was quite horrible. I’ve also recognized that I can’t really force it as much as I used to; I’m not sure what that means for my mental state and my tendency to self-deprecate, which was always so goddamned self-defeating (the thought process was if I am humble and play down what I do I can’t be offended by criticism because I am harder on myself than anyone else); that was always one of the biggest problems I had with coming up with coping mechanisms to protect myself from anxiety; it’s hard to explain how freeing it is to not have that making me tense and tightly wound all of the time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back on the morrow.

An “allée,” aka a road bounded by trees or bushes. Spooky looking with the ground fog.

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!

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. ↩︎

Evil Genius

Sunday morning, and how are you doing this morning, Constant Reader? Yesterday was actually quite a lovely day, and yes, I did manage to get quite a bit accomplished. I got up a little later than usual, did some chores around the house in the morning, got cleaned up and ran errands. I bought gas at Harmony Circle; $3.79 per gallon (and how sad is it that was a relief? Sure, it was all “economic anxiety.” Bitch, please.), bought more pens at Office Depot, picked up the dry cleaning before heading uptown to get the mail, and then swung by to make groceries. I also ordered things for delivery, so we are now all stocked up for quite a while, at least. I was exhausted when I got home; the heat and humidity were incredibly oppressive. Yes, I know where I live, but this was more like late August in the peak of the dog days of summer rather than mid-June. That heat just sucks the life and energy right out of you the way cold weather can drain a car battery. But it felt good to feel good and get all of that done, and it really didn’t take terribly long, either.

I also spent, all told, nearly three hundred dollars on groceries over four stores. Seriously.

Fuck everyone who didn’t vote for the weird laugh lady. Seriously. Now and forever.

But it was a good day. We had a marvelous rainstorm yesterday afternoon, and I cooked out once it was over. I also had a delicious slice of Creole tomato on my bacon cheeseburger; I pity everyone who doesn’t have easy access to them during the season. I did get some cleaning done in the kitchen, but not nearly enough so I will have to spend some time working on that today. But I feel great about the weekend and I feel great about the work I’m doing, too. It feels weird because I also have free time at the same time I’m writing, which is something I’m not used to.

I also kind of just let my mind wander free and I wound up starting this horrible little short story called “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” I don’t know where it came from, but I’d had the title in my head for a few days for some reason (I honestly don’t know, but my brain skitters around in an almost constant free flowing stream of consciousness that flashes by so quickly I often don’t remember where the thoughts that stick come from) and scribbled the title down. I saw it again yesterday, heard the nursery rhyme in my head, and had the most twisted thought…so I started writing it. I also realized that perhaps the reason I’ve never had much success as a horror writer is because I am afraid to let my mind go and be as freaky and wild as it can possibly get. (I’ve been wanting to write more horror lately, and…I have the time now, so why not?) I also spent a lot of time wanting to be a horror writer in my twenties; my first three young adult novels were horror of a sort, and I did write those in the early 1990s.

Today’s Washington weather looks pretty amazing, actually, he typed with a smirk on his face. No rain for us today, but we’ll get some thunderstorms tomorrow. Today I need to do some writing and reading, and cleaning for sure. I want to make Swedish meatballs for dinner; and that’s going to make a mess for sure. Since Creole tomatoes are back in season, I had one of my marvelous grilled cheese yesterday–with a diced slice of tomato, some bacon, and guacamole, using Maldon garlic salt for seasoning. My God, was that thing delicious. We also got all the way caught up on Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, which is actually quite good; Tatiana Maslany slays, as always, in the lead.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Hope your Sunday is as marvelous as you, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early, as I return to the office. And of course, Happy Pride to everyone.

The majesty of Yosemite

We Belong

Saturday in New Orleans and tonight is the Pride parade in the French Quarter. I won’t be heading down there, since we don’t have a booth there this year for work (at least not that I am aware of) nor are we passing out condoms or testing. We might be, but since I am always needed in the office four days a week at least for the clinic they tend to not ask me to do any events outside of business hours. I had a lovely and restful day working at home yesterday, doing quality assurance on forms until such time as my eyes were crossing and my brain was hurting a bit. Periodically having to take a break to deal with laundering the bed linens and the other laundry helped push that moment back further and further, which was also lovely. We also had thunder, but no storms! I didn’t run any errands yesterday. I will do that today, as well as have some things delivered. I got up early yesterday morning, even before His Majesty came up to let me know he was hungry, and was able to get moving on things earlier than usual. I also felt pretty good, if low energy, but the coffee and breakfast definitely helped with that. It is supposed to rain this afternoon–major thunderstorm around one, then showers the rest of the day–making it a terrific day to run errands and get safely home before the weather turns.

I came up with a short story idea out of nowhere yesterday, with a funny title, and it’s got Jem, my character from Death Drop, in it, and that’s also kind of fun. The entire concept behind it is actually kind of funny, and Jem’s droll sense of humor should make it even more fun to write. I also worked on the book some (I know! Madness!), which is really funny because I really did think yesterday morning before I showered that I still was dragging a bit so getting my day job work done would be enough of an accomplishment…and that all turned around on me, didn’t it? Huzzah! It feels so good, so right, to be writing again. I’ve truly missed it, and I’ve missed enjoying it even more than that! I don’t know what I am going to do with the story should I manage to finish it, but that’s part of the fun. I also worked on the book (I know, right?) a bit yesterday and hope to get a bit more written over this weekend. This week is also Juneteenth, so I have a three day weekend next, and the week after I am meeting Dad in Alabama for their anniversary, and the next week is the 4th.

Sparky let me sleep late this morning, which I do appreciate. I feel pretty rested and good today. I am going to go get gas this morning, pick up the dry cleaning, get the mail, and make a grocery run while ordering other things to be delivered later on today. After I finish and post this I am going to get cleaned up and read for a while. I also have to do some chores–the kitchen and my workspace in particular are in fairly bad shape, and there’s dishes like always. Sigh. But that’s really the thing with life, isn’t it? There’s always the minutiae that has to be kept up with…to quote my late friend Pat Brady, “I just wish someone would take care of the minutiae so I don’t have to.” Amen to that, sister, amen to that.

We started watching Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, with Tatiana Maslany (whom I’ve loved since Orphan Black) and Brandon Flynn (who is unbelievably gorgeous); it’s interesting and Hitchcockian, which I kind of love, an Maslany is terrific as she is in everything. I also want to rewatch this week’s Widow’s Bay because I don’t really remember much of it, so I must have been either tired or distracted while I watched. I would also like to watch Daniel Craig’s Queer, if I can find it streaming this weekend, and of course there’s always The Mummy Returns, which I need to rewatch, and I’ve decided to rewatch and maybe reread Johnny Tremain for the 4th of July this year. I also need to send out a newsletter this weekend; so which one do I want to finish? Questions, questions, questions.

All right, I need another cup of coffee and I need to make some breakfast and get this day underway once and for all. Hope you have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning bright and early. Until then, toodle-oo!

Carlos Alcaraz’ milkshake brings the boys to the tennis court. Photoshoot for Vanity Fair.

Prisoner of Love

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, which is pretty cool. Yesterday was a pretty good day, really. I woke up several times during the night, sadly, but feel pretty rested and awake for this late in the week. I guess I am finally getting used to getting up early, after all these years. Then again, the fatigue issues were always related to the ulcerative colitis, so I definitely had the wrong impression about being in my sixties. AN enormous relief there, you know. After work I came straight home and turned myself into a cat bed for Sparky (who is not the lithe kitten he once was but still thinks he is) and we watched this week’s episode of Widow’s Bay and started season two of Running Point, whose first season we enjoyed before going to bed. I didn’t do any writing or reading yesterday, but hope to get back in that proverbial saddle again today. I also have to run some errands tonight on the way home–mail, pick up a prescription–and then, I am hoping I won’t have to leave the house very much over the weekend. Next weekend is a four day one, and then I am driving up to Alabama later this month to meet Dad for their anniversary. And then it’s July, and the dog days of summer have truly begun here.

And before you know it, it’s football season again.

I do need to set some goals for this summer, and all of them have to do with writing. I need to clean out the storage attic sooner rather than later, which is a good project for the summer. I also want to get some short stories out on sub, and I want to get this draft of the book finished, so I can get going on the next Scotty–Twelfth Night Knavery–by the end of this year and maybe get that done as well. I also want to get some essays for the newsletter finished this weekend; I am behind schedule but since I have set said schedule and the only person disappointed by my failure is me–and it really doesn’t bother me all that much. But I also don’t need to sit around all weekend wasting time, either.

I recently came across yet another catastrophic hurricane to hit New Orleans; the 1893 Cheniere Caminada hurricane of 1893, which destroyed the town it’s named after in Jefferson Parish when it came ashore. So many destructive hurricanes have come through here since the French built the first hut on the banks of the river way back in the eighteenth century–there has to be a book about the hurricane history of New Orleans, doesn’t there? As much as I would love to read one, I don’t want to write one! If I knew how to do research properly, once I was retired I could write some marvelous nonfiction because there are so many archives here in the city; New Orleans has always done its best to document itself, even if the original sources may be unreliable. (I think of the time wasted reading the old books about New Orleans history, which weren’t trustworthy; men like Robert Tallant and Harnett Kane and others, wrote horribly racist histories which were all mostly lore and legend rather than actual fact. They were entertaining, sure, but oh my GOD the racism is abhorrent.)

I’m thinking about writing a new series, honestly; set in a small town down in the bayou with supernatural creatures and murders. I know, it sounds like a ripoff of Charlaine–which is why this idea, which I’ve had since the 1990s (and more of a Dark Shadows riff rather than Charlaine’s books), and last night I did figure out how to bring the main character to this spooky parish down the bayou.

I also need to get the print-on-demand for Bourbon Street Blues done at some point, and then get the ebook of Jackson Square Jazz (and the pod) up, and I also want to get a short story collection up, too.

SO much to do, occasionally feel like I want to do it all, and of course I wind up taking more down time than I should and….yeah, whatever.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, and I thank you as always for stopping by. See you tomorrow!

Maybe dreams can come true and I will see Egypt before I die! An aerial view of the Luxor temple.

Hell is for Children

Wednesday morning and somehow we’re already halfway through this week; how did that happen already? IT didn’t hurt that I left work early yesterday. The taping of Susan’s show went well1; it’s always nice when someone who has chaired the National Book Awards/Pulitzers for fiction multiple times likes your work, you know? It’s always lovely to get affirmation, which isn’t something you get a lot in this business. I suppose royalties are affirmations, but…they’re kind of cold and emotion-less, you know? It also helps that the work is going well for me now, too. My visit to the stomach doctor also went well; he was most pleased with how I am doing and how my labs turned out, which was lovely and marvelous, and now I don’t have to worry about him for another six months. The Skyrizi is working well, and my plaque psoriasis is also gone; thank you, side effect of Skyrizi. I told him in the last month I’ve been feeling much better–not tired, not fatigues, not sore or achy–and he said that was about right; about a year to recover when I was that sick. My next injection is due Monday, and were it not on my calendar I would have completely forgot; I used to be able to tell it was coming because I’d have a little distress two weeks or so ahead of time. This is the first time I couldn’t tell the shot was coming due, which is also very cool. Huzzah!

I’ve also been invited to speak at this year’s Louisiana Book Festival, which is pretty cool. It’s been a long time since I’ve done the LBF; I don’t think I have since we started going to Baton Rouge for LSU games? I really should start checking into other state book festivals in the South; Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas; does Tennessee have one? Anyway, those are much easier to get to and more affordable than the mystery conventions.

We finished The Boroughs last night, which was a nice. self-contained series but was also left open for a second season. The acting was superb, and it was so lovely to see actors of a certain age carrying a show rather than having them shoved into some sort of showy supporting role. We’re also really enjoying Widow’s Bay, which is amazing and fun and funny and incredibly well-written. We’ve never seen the last season of Stranger Things or the most recent Bridgerton, but maybe over the next few weeks we can get that watched and out of the way. We also have to finish The Comeback; maybe this weekend will do for that. There’s also new seasons and new shows dropping next week that look interesting. This weekend I want to get really reading on Lev Rosen’s Rough Pages, and I think I may revisit Celebrity–primarily to talk about Mack Crawford, his sexuality, and gay representation in a book/mini-series in the early 1980s–also the era of Stephen Carrington’s sexuality on Dynasty.

I feel pretty good this morning. The daily rains have taken some time off–rumor has it we’re in for an incredibly horribly hot few days this week–but the rain will make its return next week, while the rest of the country is enjoying a cold front. I feel rested and like I can get a lot done today. I was thinking about running errands tonight after work, but it can wait until tomorrow after work, methinks. Especially if it’s going to be miserably hot outside.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have yourself a lovely little Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I shall return on the morrow. Till then!

Happy? Angry? Nice body, in any case.
  1. I also got to talk about John D. MacDonald and his environmentalism and hurricane books, and wishing that we had that kind of writer going after Louisiana’s politicians and corporations. ↩︎

I’m Gonna Follow You

Monday morning and back to the office with me in a little bit. Haven’t had enough coffee yet, frankly.

I think it was a good weekend for me. I feel rested and good, which is always the point of weekends, isn’t it? Thank you, labor unions. It was a very good weekend for me, creatively, as well. I noticed on Saturday that I was almost finished with my journal (I actually finished it yesterday morning) and I smacked myself metaphorically upside my head for not writing the date I started writing in it on the flyleaf…but then yesterday I realized the notes on the very first page were written down either while I was in Florida last month, or after I got home. (The note was about a sign I saw on the way down to Panama City Beach at a corner where we turned: Betty’s Fireworks–Best Bang in Town! It made me laugh, I took a picture of it, and thought it would make a great story title.) But this note enabled me to write MAY 2026 on the flyleaf and I realized damn, I filled that journal in about a month or less which also means I’ve been writing a lot more than I had realized; I am just now doing it in long hand cursive rather than on a computer (although I did do some of that this weekend, too). I just now need to get back into the habit of writing on a keyboard again. The journal has been scratching my creative itch lately, is all.

Kind of a relief there, you know. The medication helps with the anxiety, but it’s not removed ALL the roadblocks in my head yet. That’s going to require a much longer unpacking than I’ve managed so far. But I am getting there.

I finished my reread of George Baxt’s A Queer Kind of Death, and also decided that I wasn’t going to write an essay about it–mainly because today the book is kind of problematic, despite being groundbreaking when originally published and it deserves (along with its two follow-ups) to be remembered for their importance, no matter how they hold up presently. It was a very big deal for a book where every male character is gay to be published in 1966 by Simon & Schuster, so it wasn’t only important for queer crime but for queer publishing in general. At the time. most queer fiction was published by pulp presses and not carried in most bookstores outside of the chains. The cop in this is not only a gay man but Black, too–which was incredibly subversive in a period where race riots were in the news weekly. But again, as entertaining as the book is, I think a white man writing a Black character wouldn’t fly today, and there’s also some problems with the gay characters. It also paints a picture of what life was like if you were openly gay in 1966, and that also makes the book important. But I couldn’t go in depth about it without critiquing the aspects now problematic, and I don’t want to do that, especially during Pride Month.

Same with my current read; it’s disappointing to me and I am not enjoying it, so I am putting it aside for now and moving on to another–probably the new Lev Rosen, as he is one of my favorites.

Now, I need to pick out my next queer reread. Hmmm. Maybe something not crime? Oooooh, Faggots by Larry Kramer! I’ve been meaning to get back to it again now for years1. There’s also Serenade by James M. Cain, which I’ve been wanting to reread. Oops, sorry, spoiler–but yes, Serenade is Cain’s queer novel.

I have been doing a lot of writing this weekend. I even wrote a synopsis/rough draft of the second chapter of the novel, which is taking shape nicely in my head. I did more short story work, too. I love that I am writing again and I love that I am being creative again. It’s so nice to finally break through that scar tissue in my brain (or whatever that was) to get back to finding joy and pleasure in writing again. It makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else really does, and I am so lucky that I love doing this work, and that I’m able to do it again. I think maybe that’s part of why I am feeling so much better–I’m writing again and enjoying it, which is always a joy.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. See you then!

Today’s crop of pro wrestlers have much better bodies than they did when I was growing up. I’d do this dude in a heartbeat.
  1. I used to love talking to Larry on the phone when I worked at Lambda. He was usually angry about something but would always preface with “Greg, it’s not you but I’m mad.” ↩︎

Wuthering Heights

How is it Sunday already? From whence didst my weekend goeth? (I am sure that is incorrect usage, but I can’t be bothered to check) Yet it is gone already and tomorrow morning I’ll be up early again to head into the office. I was still running a bit on accessory and still recharging yesterday, and that was okay. I slept later than I’d expected, but that was fine. I drank my coffee and had my breakfast and made my entry yesterday morning. I read for a bit, caught up some on the news, and then ran my errands. I took a load of clothes to the dry cleaner and two boxes of books to the library sale. I also stopped at the Fresh Market to pick up a few things, and came home to just kind of chill and read some more of my book before Paul got up. I. had thought about heading to the Creole Tomato Festival at the French Market yesterday, but there was some kind of stupid other thing going on at the other end of the Quarter–right on my way to the Market, so I decided not to bother. I got some great ones at the grocery store on Friday, anyway, and I cut one up to have with mozzarella salad for lunch, and it was marvelous. Probably having the same lunch today, too.

Creole tomatoes are the best. I love Creole tomato season.

I also wrote a little bit more yesterday while the television was on in the background while Nurse Sparky took care of Paul (sleeping on him), which also felt kind of nice. It’s also kind of strange that I am learning how much I love writing again by going back to the very beginning; I am writing everything by hand in my journal, and my handwriting is getting prettier and prettier as well as more precise. I also wrote on the computer, about a thousand words overall on some short stories, about four in all, which was kind of scattered and fun again. I also started writing the opening of yet another novel–but I was worried about forgetting how I wanted that particular novel to open, so I wrote it.

It’s nice to be writing again, even if it is all pretty much scattered and all over the place.

I spent most of the day in my easy chair, either scribbling in my journal or watching television. We watched more of Cape Fear, Sweetpea, and The Boroughs last evening. We still haven’t watched Bridgerton or Stranger Things, and I’m not sure why we lost interest in either. Maybe because there was so much time between seasons? I don’t know. There’s a new Harlan Coben show dropping next week, and we’re looking forward to that–we always love Harlan’s shows–and I also did some reading yesterday morning. I would like to do some more reading this morning, and maybe even some more writing; one never can be certain how the day is going to go. I slept in this morning, and feel a bit tired, too.

But my coffee is going down nicely and my body is also waking up. My workspace is a complete and utter mess this morning, and I should work on that some. All the stuff I dropped off yesterday enabled me to clean and organize that corner of the living room, and maybe it’s time to start clearing out the bead trunk, too. I can keep things in there besides the beads–all the living room blankets, for one–and then close it for another clean surface. I’ll look into that this week, to see if ARCNO still has bead donations spots up and running around the city.

And I should do some cleaning and organizing of the kitchen.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close, so I can get another cup of coffee and make my breakfast to get this day started. Will it be a productive one, or will it not? It remains to be seen, and I will check in with you again tomorrow. See you then!

El Castillo, Chichen Itza, Mexico. And yes, despite being both afraid of heights AND falling, Greg climbed that thing. Coming down was much worse.