Category: equality

To Be a Man

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and the Crescent City Classic marathon is already under way. I wound up staying up later last night than I usually do; I was doing the bed linens but was interrupted by my plans for the evening–I was social last night–and had to finish them when I got home. I fell asleep in my chair waiting for the last of the blankets to finish, and slept deeply, restfully, and extremely well. As such, I slept in later than I usually do, but that’s okay. I am going to run some errands today as well as do some chores around here. Paul is going to be out for most of the daylight hours; he has things to do at the office, is going to work out with his trainer, and so will most likely not be home until the early evening, which is also okay. I want to take it easy for most of the day, to rest, but we’ll see how things go. I also need to finish a newsletter; I am trying to stick to a weekend/midweek schedule. Ideally, there would be two per week, but that doesn’t always happen, does it? I need to do better with that, don’t I?

I survived getting up early and going to the office yesterday, and managed to survive both the meeting and doing some things around the office that I won’t have to do Monday before coming home to do quality assurance on paperwork while starting all the laundry. (The downstairs is a complete mess, and so will need to do something about that today.) I met some friends for a cocktail before heading uptown for my dinner date at Gautreau’s, which is somewhere I’d never eaten before. I had the roasted broccoli salad (with pine nuts, shredded cheese, and a delicious vinaigrette) and had the braised lamb linguini in a pesto sauce. My word, it was delicious, and I also allowed myself a very dry martini with my meal before catching a Lyft home. I have started a rewatch of season four of The Traitors (because I want to write about it and the entire phenomenon of the show), and even though you know who wins and who gets banished/murdered ahead of time, it’s good for rewatching because you forget things. Example: I hate Michael Rappaport so much I’d blacked his presence on the show out of my memory. (And whatever anyone’s opinion on Colton Underwood may be–and I do have several–he really is ridiculously beautiful, and that needs to be said.)

I also feel like I have to point out, as a fan of both Heated Rivalry and its cast, that I finally caught Connor Storrie’s new commercial for Verizon, filmed in a delightfully horror style, in which his butt is the actual star (and to be far, it is an incredibly nice one) and shows not only how talented he is, but also how charismatic. The camera is in love with him, and we all benefit from this. I am really looking forward to following his career as it grows–that of the entire cast, really. I haven’t gone completely parasocial–fandoms are pits of despair and neediness that should really be studied–but I am rooting for Mr. Storrie and the others to really become major stars. I don’t need to know everything about them or what they’re doing or any of that other invasive shit fans indulge in, but…I am a fan.

I really do feel rested and relaxed this morning. My legs are a bit more tired than I would prefer, but that’s okay; after I do the things I want to get done today I am planning on spending most of my day in the easy chair with the laptop and a book, and of course at five, LSU continues its quest to make it to the Elite Eight in gymnastics tonight in the regional finals. But I do really need to clean up down here before I leave the house to do things.

I’ve also added today’s title as a prospective title on the list of essays I want to write in a series about masculinity or the newsletter. I keep saying that, don’t I? I’ve been thinking about this topic–masculinity–for quite a long time, but I also want to talk about it clearly and concisely, and it’s all my perceptions anyway. I’ve always been reluctant to write personal essays about things I am interested in because I don’t consider myself an expert on anything, but I know a little about a lot of topics. Does anyone need another essay about The Great Gatsby? Probably not, nor am I known as a scholar on any subject other than my own personal experience, and I’ve often doubted or questioned my own experiences and perceptions. But writing has always helped me sort things out, processing everything to deal with it as well as make up my own mind.

Hmmm.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

The side patio bar at St. Vincent’s in my neighborhood, on Magazine between Orange and Race streets

A New World

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office for the week; I have to go in for a meeting tomorrow morning, but I get to leave right after so that will be nice; I’ll run some errands on the way home and get that out of the way for the weekend; anything else can be delivered. I didn’t really want to get up this morning, or out of bed; knowing I have to get up to an alarm tomorrow morning (Good Friday) doesn’t help much, either. But it rained overnight so I did sleep well, despite the rain kicking my sinuses back into fifth gear. I’ll be semi-sort of busy today at work; yesterday was busy but not terribly exhausting. I’m having dinner with a friend tomorrow night, so that’s something to look forward to. I do feel pretty okay this morning, but my legs are a bit fatigued. I’m also starving, so I need to eat something before I head to work this morning.

Yesterday was a rainy day alternating with sunshine and blue skies; there was a terrific downpour in the mid-afternoon which made me wish I was home with Sparky in my lap, reading. Ah, well, it wasn’t to be, and the damp in the air made the air conditioning at the office feel even colder. It was a good, if busy, day; I had a lot of clients and a lot of work to catch up on…I am almost current with everything, but hopefully coming in tomorrow morning for the meeting will help me get a lot of that done. It’s weird, it’s about a year from when I got so sick last year and wound up in the hospital, so I am really paying attention to my body and keeping an eye out for warning signs. I am medicated for that condition now (so many pills every morning and night, sigh), so it shouldn’t be an issue but…this year is probably the only year I will worry about it returning. But it does make for some not-as-bad-as-they-used-to-be stressed reactive thinking for a moment or so.

It was also very weird but I recently managed to feel bad for Lindsey Graham, and it’s not that often that I feel bad for a terrible person. I despise Graham, but there are a lot of things you can use to attack him rather than calling him gay or Miss Lindsey or Aunt Pittypat–all of which are not only homophobic but also transphobic in some cases. Yes, there are a lot of closeted gay men in the MAGA movement (self-loathing, party of one, your table is ready), and yes, they do a lot of damage not just to queers but to everyone who isn’t a white man…but mocking them for being gay and closeted isn’t it. With all due respect, Graham has undoubtedly been bullied and mocked for being gay his entire life–and as someone who also experienced that until I came out, I can empathize and have sympathy for that. Also, if he wants to go to, and enjoys, Disney World, and also likes bubble wands? On the one hand, I am not opposed to anything that makes someone happy, and the notion that straight adult men can’t love Disney is…well, gendered. I don’t know if Lindsey Graham is gay or bisexual or whatever it is that he likes to do; he may be asexual for all we know. But I don’t like speculation (or bullying) based on rumors. Lindsey Graham is a horrible, horrible human being; we don’t need to throw all queers under the bus in order to drag him for filth. It’s also very interesting how many “allies” will immediately go to queer slurs and insults if they decide someone “deserves” it. Graham deserves to be bullied and mocked and dragged, but not for going to Disney World (in itself nothing shameful; but shame him for going instead of doing his job, not because it’s a “gendered” thing to love Disney as an adult) or for possibly having an alternate sexuality. Don’t make me defend Lindsey Graham anymore, people. I don’t like it–but bullying someone for being gay, whether they are or not, is bullshit.

There are plenty of reasons to drag Graham–his masculinity isn’t one of them.

Likewise, I don’t care what Bryon Noem does in his private life, and what kind of marriage the Noems have had (staying married for their Christian bona fides would be my guess)…but yes, it’s the height of hypocrisy to be the morality police for everyone else when you have a marriage agreement of some sort, just like Erikkka Kirk can’t wrap herself in her wailing widowhood when she’s clearly been having the time of her life since her husband’s murder–and it’s not even been a full year yet. MAGA people are clearly mostly freaks privately and that’s fine. As long as no one is being harmed and consent is involved, knock your socks off. But don’t police everyone else’s morality when you have feet of clay, you know?

Let’s not forget the couch fucker also did drag when he was in college.

Sigh.

Paul didn’t get home last night before I went to bed, so it was just me and Sparky in my easy chair watching news clips and watching documentaries about inbred Hapsburgs, which I enjoy for some reason. The Hapsburgs have always fascinated me, with their inbreeding and religious fanaticism (which always makes me shake my head; there is literally nothing in the Bible that instructs anyone to mass murder people who believe differently. The Hapsburgs were the illustration of “there’s no hate quite like Christian love.” I wasn’t tired, but Sparky was very needy and wanted my lap to sleep in; he was dead to the world, dreaming and talking some in his sleep, and so I didn’t want to disturb him. It’s silly, I know–he’ll just go sleep somewhere else if I get up–but the dirty looks he gives me when I do disturb him are quite compelling. No one can side-eye quite like a sleepy cat, can they?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. It may rain again today, and it’s definitely going to be muggy today. Sigh. I need to pick up some more Claritin tomorrow. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

There’s nothing prettier than the Quarter on a foggy evening

No Questions Asked

Sunday morning and here we are, ready for another exciting and highly productive day. The world is still here (so far), and I am already on my second cup of coffee. I feel rested and relaxed, which is terrific, because I do have things I need to get done today. I basically took yesterday off from everything–no errands, few chores, no nothing–other than icing my calves and finishing the final available series of The Traitors from the UK. I’ll probably go ahead and watch Australia and New Zealand–others from around the world don’t seem to be available to stream anywhere, but I bet the German one would be bad-ass. I think I am going to spend the morning here in the kitchen, cleaning and organizing and writing some, before working on the living room and doing some editorial work. I don’t need to run any errands today, either–but may have a pizza delivered tonight for dinner. I also need to prepare lunches for the week. But I do feel good this morning, so we’ll see how it all goes, shan’t we?

I did write about my conflicting emotions on the unexpected loss of my friend Lauren Henderson, which you can read by clicking the blue. It did help me sort out the complicated feelings I’ve been experiencing since I woke up to the news the other morning (can people stop dying on me, please?), and once it was finished and posted I feel less unsettled about everything and could have a proper cry for her loss, which was cathartic. Highly recommended. I also spent some time Friday evening looking through old pictures of good times we’d had together–especially Italy–which was also lovely.

Sigh.

I guess the Oscars are tonight. I may have them on while I do something else (unlikely) tonight, but I am not staying up to see who wins the big prizes and can happily wait until tomorrow morning tp find out. I am hoping Sinners wins everything under the sun, including Best Actor for Michael B. Jordan, but I feel it’s going to be another The Color Purple night, where “See how liberal we are! Look at all those nominations!” will suffice. I never understood where the idea that Hollywood is liberal came from, when Hollywood collectively is as conservative as it gets–look at how few films there are that center anyone who’s not a cisgender straight white man–but like the news, it makes for a great conservative target–and they never care about whether their bitching is actually based in fact not feeling (fascinating, since they’re also the “fuck your feelings” crowd), as long as they can get mad and complain about something. I mean, look at our news media now! Years of calling it the “lamestream media” (thank you for that bon mot, quitter Palin) and “the liberal-biased media” worked, didn’t it? They kept watering down their content and anything the Right might consider “offensive” to them, and they happily fell into lockstep with MAGA. If this does ever end without the country glowing and in ashes, there’s so much work to repair the long-lasting damage they’ve done to the country that we might as well just let the whole thing collapse and start over. The system is too entrenched in white supremacy to work for anyone who doesn’t fit into their narrowly defined box of acceptability.

I do love the new iPad, by the way, and I love the magic keyboard that I bought to go with it. It functions much more like a laptop than my old one, and now I am not even sure what to do with the old one, other than wipe it and take it back into Apple, so they can refurbish it and resell it as used again. Is that credit worth driving back out to Metairie? Probably, because I’ll eventually need another accessory for all the Mac products I own.

I also have been feeling good about my writing ability again. I’ve been getting some praise for my work lately, which has been absolutely lovely–and needed, I think. With my anxiety medicated now, I am realizing that my Imposter Syndrome was another one of those symptoms that I was so used to that I never thought it would go away.1 I am good at what I do. Could I be better? Always–that is always the case with creative arts–but that doesn’t mean what I release out into the world is garbage, either.

It’s a nice feeling, really.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. I am going to make myself some breakfast and start cleaning up in here. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

The Acropolis in Athens lit up at night.
  1. Mind you, I am sure there will be flare-ups again, but the need for humility and not being outwardly proud of my accomplishments isn’t there any more…and if it is still there, it’s not as persistent; that awful little voice seems to be gone now. ↩︎

That Made Me Stronger

And here we are on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday again, and I am feeling pretty okay this morning. I was very tired when I got home last night after running an errand to pick up some books I ordered–Liza’s new memoir and Vincent Tirado’s new horror novel–but somehow managed to do a load of dishes and a load of laundry. I slept very well last night and the night before, but I definitely hit a wall yesterday afternoon. I was also very busy at the office, too–and I am busy again today, too. That’s okay–I’d rather be busy than bored, but some slow time to keep up with other job duties is always appreciated.

But after I started the dishwasher and moved the clothes into the dryer, I changed into my usual at-home leisure wear (LSU sweats) and plopped down into my easy chair–Sparky immediately climbed into my lap once I had the ice machine affixed to my left leg, and he was MIFFED when I took the wrap around cuff off later, because he was lying against it and apparently liked the cold. Go figure. I watched the news about the collapse of an empire until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and switched over to my current obsession, The Traitors-UK, which is so much fun I can barely stand it, before I started nodding off in my chair and went to bed early.

I also finally finished my long-overdue newsletter–about being a DEI author; you can read it here if you’d like; you can even subscribe! My mind has been so scattered these past few weeks–really, since Mardi Gras, to be completely honest–that it took me longer than it should have. I put so many bullet points into it that I wanted to cover, but wasn’t able to because it was getting very long, which means that I’ll have to do another one to finish covering everything I wanted to cover, but perhaps I can make the next one about diversity panels–which is actually how it originally started, but through the writing/editing process I realized that wasn’t the way into talking about life as a DEI author, and wrote a whole new opening to it. I have to say, it did feel nice to get it done and out of the way at last, but it’s also part and parcel of this ADHD-addled brain stuff I’ve been experiencing this year. I do think the last couple of weeks–between not feeling well and water-boil advisories (this week’s was lifted yesterday morning so I could shave this morning and do the dishes last night) I’ve been quite unsettled lately and unable to focus for very long on anything. Sigh. But I am going to give it the old college try and start work on the next newsletter and maybe some fiction. It literally can’t hurt, right?

Indeed, hope springs eternal.

But so far so good this morning. We have water pressure, safe drinking water, and I am not feeling sick or under the weather in any way, shape, or form. I think this weekend is the Irish Channel St. Patrick’s Day parade, which means street closures, lots of drunken pedestrians, and parade traffic in Uptown, so I have to plan my weekend errands and chores around it. And yes, it is this Saturday; so any errands involved heading up town are out of the question, which is fine. It starts at Magazine and Felicity and ends at Jackson and Annunciation, but it does go along St, Charles, too. I suppose I can get uptown by taking Race to Tchoupitoulas and head up and back that way, but…hassle. I had hoped to get everything done on Saturday morning so I could get home and stay there, but it’s still possible–I could go shop and make groceries on the West Bank or Carrollton.

There’s always an answer, you know.

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

View of the Karnak temple from the Nile

Every Day

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. The weekend was lovely, if not particularly productive in terms of getting things done, but I do need to rest from time to time. Yesterday I had to do some work for Paul–nothing really, just didn’t want to do it, you know how that goes. I slept later than I’d wanted, but it rained overnight and was still raining in the early morning, which is why I was so asleep and didn’t want to get up. The rest of the day was damp and chill, if humid and gray, but I did manage to get some things done. I didn’t find the time change particularly grueling this year; I just went to bed early on Saturday and slept in a bit. I did have some trouble sleeping last night, and got up to yet another boil water advisory and low water pressure. Heavy sigh. I hope I can shower and have a normal Monday this week–but the fates do seem to be conspiring against me. Oh, well; there are always worse things.

Yesterday was restful which was very nice. I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked on the house yesterday, but that’s okay. I spent time icing my calves to try to help the Achilles tendons stop being sore–they are very much better than they were, it’s barely noticeable now–and made dinner and did do some things before we watched LSU Gymnastics at Florida, and then went to The Traitors-UK again. (I’m hoping there’s enough of it to get me through the Festivals, at any rate. Overall, I had a lovely, relaxing and restful weekend, which was necessary and lovely. I got all errands done that were necessary, did some clean up around here, and got the rest I needed in order to face down this week. I think we’re busy in the clinic this week, too–and I’m a bit behind on my work, so I need to use today to get everything caught up before I am back in the clinic tomorrow (Monday is my administrative day where I try to get everything caught up from the week before). No pressure there, right? I’ll manage somehow. I always do.

I’m dreading looking at the news; over the weekend I don’t pay attention much because I can only take so much, so I limit my exposure to it as much as I can. It isn’t that I don’t want to be informed or know what’s going on in the world around me, but the reality is “24 news” doesn’t mean reporting on news for twenty-four hours, it means regurgitating the same news over and over again while everyone you can get on camera to discuss, argue and debate the same news until you really want to throw something sharp and hard through the television screen. Who have we bombed and/or invaded today? What rights are being curtailed by either Congress, executive order, or the most corrupt and lawless Supreme Court since the Dred Scott decision (which hounded Roger B. Taney for the rest of his life, as it should have)? What other allies are now refusing to share intelligence with us because our president and his court are all Russian assets? (I remember the days when not a single Republican dared support anything Russian; their entire party was grounded in anti-Russia sentiment, only to do a complete 180? The North remembers.) I remember still all the Vietnam news reports when I was a child…

As I mentioned, I didn’t sleep that great last night; I had a fever during the night and woke up to a damp pillow and a damp spot in the bed where I’d sweated. Obviously, I flipped the pillow over and rearranged things so there was a layer of blanket between me and the damp spot in the sheets, and I didn’t feel that great. I woke up several more times during the night–love waking up to a boil water advisory, but at least there was enough pressure for a shower this morning, praise Jesus. I have something going on with my stomach again, but I am hoping it’s not a relapse, and not entirely sure what I would have to do to ward that off. I think maybe I ate too much yesterday–always a possibility–and that’s what the issue is this morning (and was overnight). I also forgot to take my pills yesterday, which also could be a part of this stomach annoyance.

And on that pleasant note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

The Colossi of Memnon, during the Nile flood

Maybe Love Will Change Your Mind

Work at home Friday, with the sun up and bright and the sky is clear and blue–almost cerulean, if you like–and I feel pretty good. I was very tired when I got home from work yesterday afternoon, and despite my best intentions I didn’t get anything done last night other than providing a lap for Sparky and finishing season one of The Traitors UK. Are you tired of my latest obsession yet? Paul isn’t quite as obsessed as I am, of course, and he finds my passion for the show a little amusing. But what can I say? It’s an absolutely delightful escape from the world and its assorted horrors; and it makes me happy and helps me relax. And we need to find joy in the world when there is so much trying to tear us all down and make us miserable. Joy feels like resistance, nourishing my soul so I can face the horrors of each and every day, and the more joy we find, the less likely the bastards are to win.

I think there was some excellent news with the removal of Kristi Noem (aptly namedKristi Lynn Arnold Noem (KLAN) from Homeland Security after all the taxpayer funded waste so she can, among other things, fuck Corey Lewandowski in the air to her heart’s content. Remember draining the swamp? How quaint that old demagogue slogan sounds now, doesn’t it? Almost like America First. And yet people still support this criminal gang that are looting the country and driving the national debt through the roof and up into the sky–it’s orbiting Pluto now, and about to break free and head for Sirius. I love how Democrats are the people who supposedly waste our tax dollars, while their God-emperor just steals from us with both hands. She’s being replaced by Markwayne Mullin, who sounds like a character from Green Acres, or a villain from an old Burt Reynolds caper movie. He’s another short man with a Napoleon complex (see Greg Bovino, Dan Bongino, Joe Rogan, etc.) who thinks he’s a lot tougher than he actually is–mainly because being short everyone else has to punch down to hit him. What nonsensical shit he’ll get up to–he’s as bad, if not worse, than Secretary KLAN–she’s just stupid and useless; I think he is stupid and evil–and God forbid, sees this as his ticket to higher office. Although Oklahoma could do the funniest thing and elect a Democrat to replace him…won’t happen; Oklahoma is too far gone into their hatred and bigotry and self-righteous white victimhood to send such a message to Washington; his replacement in the Senate will most likely be even worse.

I’ve also been loving the Reich-wing excuses and justifications for this insane and illegal war in the Middle East that we’ve started; I think my favorite was “we’ve been at war with Iran for forty-seven years!” Then why was the Reagan administration selling them arms to fund the Contras in Nicaragua, because that was definitely aid and comfort to the enemy and Oliver North should have been executed? See how easy that was? They are lying to us about everything, and I can’t imagine with our bases being hit how we’ve not had more casualties than what they’ve admitted to–you know, the “suckers and losers” he has referenced numerous times in the past.

I am also kind of angry about some other things–namely, the Texas Democrat need to vote for anyone other than the qualified and definitely battle-tested Black woman for the “new great white hope” from Texas (anyone remember Beto, or whatever his name was? Whatever happened to him?), who also doesn’t believe in Medicare for all and has anyone really dug into his reproductive freedom stance, or queer rights? No offense, but after being betrayed by the faux-progressive campaign stances of grifting trash like Kyrsten Sinema or John Fetterman, forgive me if I don’t climb right up on that train–and neither do Black Texas voters. His surrogates were not above using racism and misogyny to smear and slander Ms. Crockett, and his campaign did nothing–and no one on our side of the aisle should ever be okay with that kind of bullshit, especially one led by a Christian. I also saw some horrific racism on-line yesterday from white Texas gays–we’re never beating the allegations, guys, until you examine your fucking privilege–which led to a lot of blocking. Being marginalized doesn’t give you carte blanche to oppress other marginalized people. You can’t keep going to the Black community–especially Black women–for money, volunteers and votes when you consistently reward their hard work with racism, and of course the pro-genocide slander was right there for racists to use–and then “we need to rally behind the candidate!” Without the Black community, no Democrat will hold national office ever again. So maybe, white Democrats, take a moment and think about who you are driving away from the polls. If Black Texans don’t turn out in November, that seat stays MAGA. So, the Talarico people need to start making amends for their bullshit, stat. Hilarious how the same people who couldn’t bring themselves to vote for Jasmine Crockett were cheering her congressional takedown of KLAN the very day they couldn’t bring their anti-Black asses to vote for her the day before. “We love you! Way to go! But we’re not going to send you back to Congress, sorry!”

Seriously, and the racist white gays? You’re an embarrassment and a disgrace. It even looks like you’d vote against your own rights rather than vote for a Black candidate, and then you wonder why the Black community doesn’t trust or support us? Get the FUCK out of here. The Republicans didn’t want her on the ticket. SO what the fuck does that tell you, you stupid fucking assholes.

I was also alerted to a lovely Youtube review of Hurricane Season Hustle yesterday by Google alerts. Check it out!

Gorgeous Max Parker from last summer’s Netflix hit, Boots, which was cancelled because the Pentagon was pouty about gays in the military, the snowflakes.

Blue Eyes

Its the morning of Ash Wednesday and I am up at my normal time, trying to get back to normal and back into my normal day-to-day life now that Carnival is over for another year. The city is probably still in ruins, because there’s only so much they can clean up overnight, you know? The trees of St. Charles are dripping with beads and crepe paper and, of course, toilet paper from racist Tucks, er, Sucks1. I am so tired of the insidious nature of racism in incredibly stupid and small-minded white people. I can’t imagine how exhausted racialized communities feel. The closest thing I can think of would be how tired I am of homophobia and homophobes.

You haters are fucking tedious, you know? Get a fucking life already.

Readjusting back to normality after Deep Gras is always tricky. It’s Fat Tuesday that always winds up throwing me off–I am always aware that it’s Monday during Lundi Gras, but it felt like Sunday yesterday and I keep thinking today is Monday, and it’s not. That will take some mental adjusting, as will that tomorrow is my last day in the office again. But I feel very rested this morning, too. I spent a. great deal of time yesterday icing my ankles, so the Achilles tendons aren’t very tender this morning, but I am sure that will change as the day gets longer. I’ll ice them again tonight, of course, and I have some errands to do after work on the way home, too. I made potato leek soup in the slow cooker yesterday–it was sublime, probably the best I’ve ever made, and I added shallots this time, too–and that was quite lovely for dinner. I did chores and picked up a lot around the house, but never got around to the floors, which I hope to get to this weekend. I also managed to read some, which was very lovely, and I had a very strong burst of creativity yesterday that resulted in me making significant headway on an essay for the newsletter after sending a promotional one out over the course of the lengthy weekend, while getting an idea for another one–and I thought I was finished with the promotional Scotty newsletters; so that is a very good thing.

I also need to pack up more beads to donate to ArcGNO this weekend, and should also probably drop off a box of books at the library sale. I made some other reorganization decisions about the apartment this weekend, too–I need to clear out a shelf in the pantry so I can take some boxes down from the tops of the cabinets–and I really need to get the floors done. The house always looks so much better when I’ve done the floors, and maybe this weekend I can get the workspace windows cleaned, depending on the weather; I’ve not bothered to look ahead just yet. If it rains or is too cold, the windows can certainly wait.

While I did things yesterday, I was bingeing Celebrity Traitors from the UK, and even with a majority of the cast being people I had NO idea who they were, it was an excellent cast and an even more enjoyable game. I primarily wanted to see how the game ends, since I’ve never seen a season finale, and now that I know, I am pretty pleased, as I was afraid the way they wrap it all up might be a let down, but it’s not. And there was someone I’d actually met and had dinner/drinks with years and years ago in the cast! Yes, I am going to humblebrag, but the British actress Celia Imrie and I have mutual friends in common–and I had dinner with her and our mutual friend when they came through New Orleans a while back, which was marvelous. Naturally, I was rooting for her, but she was one of the last murder victims, alas. Stephen Fry was also on, and he was the first person I’ve seen note how badly the game is stacked in favor of the Traitors; I also observed to Paul “they really shouldn’t feel bad for banishing people who aren’t Traitors; the Faithful outnumber the Traitors by a 19 to 3 ratio, so of course they are going to banish incorrectly more often than not. I suspect I would be terrible at this game unless I was a Traitor.

If you’re a politics junkie2 and love watching MAGA eating themselves, pay attention to the Louisiana Republican primary for Senator Bill Cassidy (the pro-life OB-GYN who looks like a Muppet gone wrong) for some hilarity. Cassidy, as you may remember, committed the egregious sin of voting for Trump’s impeachment after January 6–hoping the person with no long-term memory would forget that six years later. About a month or so ago, Orange Foolius handpicked congresswoman Julia Letlow to endorse for the race. I’m not entirely certain she’d even announced? Cassidy’s dark money PACs are now going after Letlow, tying her to DEI and Nancy Pelosi and President Biden as a “dangerous liberal” (it took me a while to type that while laughing hysterically); does OF still have pull in Louisiana now? After a couple of weeks of silence, Letlow has finally released her own attack ads on Cassidy and seriously, this primary race can easily be called A Confederacy of Dunces.

I was sorry to hear that both Jesse Jackson and Robert Duvall died over Deep Gras. Both contributed significantly to society in their own ways, and giants cannot be replaced. I mean, look at this iteration of the current Democratic Party–where are all the great Democrats I grew up watching legislate? I mean, even the Kennedy in the forefront of public policy today is a very poor imitation of his father and uncles, pissing and shitting all over the family name. I also find it interesting that Hunter Biden was targeted and hounded for having addiction issues, while MAGA celebrates the brain worm guy who had addiction issues and clearly has something wrong with him.

After finishing reading The Secret of Hangman’s Inn, I started writing a newsletter essay about the Ken Holt series and this book in general, with a particular look at the series’ homo-eroticism–based on my recent reread of the book itself. The series, expertly written by Sam and Beryl Epstein under the name Bruce Campbell, is very much of it’s time–and you could easily see how things had changed since they were written. I remember there was a clue in one book that had to do with the cotter pin holding automobile tires on–they don’t have those anymore–and of course, no television, no automatic transmissions on cars, having to depend on phone calls and being home to take them, newspapers and syndicates with journalistic ethics, and so on. But this particular reread made me realize something about the juvenile series that I hadn’t ever caught on to before–and that will also be a strong piece of the newsletter essay.

I also decided yesterday what my next Scotty book will be and when it will be set. I wanted to jump ahead–the most recent, this new one, is set in August of 2019, and I am going to skip ahead to Mardi Gras 2022, when the parades rolled again after the canceled parade season of 2021–and I even know what it’s going to be about. Huzzah!

So yes, I had a very productive and good day yesterday. I feel rested, my right Achilles tendon has a bit of a twinge but the left feels good, and I feel rested and relaxed and motivated to get things done. And as always, we’ll see how long this feeling lasts. I am going to head into the spice mines now, and hope to have a great day post-Carnival.

Have a great Ash Wednesday if you “celebrate”, and if you don’t, have a lovely Wednesday–the rest of the work week is the downhill slide into the weekend, which will be here before I know it or am ready for it!

American swimmer Caeleb Dressel is an Olympic champion. And has pretty blue eyes.

Photographed at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Mandatory Credit: Robert Deutsch-USA TODAY ORG XMIT: USATODAY-451287 [Via MerlinFTP Drop]
  1. I saw yesterday that the racist assholes who hung black dolls by the neck with beads from their float have been kicked out of Tucks. Good. They also should be named and shamed, but I doubt that will happen. ↩︎
  2. This is an example of a time when I really miss Victoria. ↩︎

If I Were You

Wednesday! We have almost made it to the weekend…and parade season. I don’t know why I bother thinking I can get anything done during the parade days. We’re going to try to make a Costco run on Friday and get back home before the streets close; I also have dinner plans and will have to walk there. I slept really well last night, as I was very tired when I got off from work and after running errands on my way home from the office. It’s raining–supposed to clear by nine, with no more rain for the rest of the day, and we’re back to normal February weather after the rain ends–fifties and sixties for the first parade weekend. I think the rain had something to do with the good, deep sleep, because rain always makes me sleep deeply. But I am awake, feel rested, and that’s good. I dragged some yesterday, hitting a wall in the afternoon so had to fight the urge to not run the errands after work, but I somehow managed. But it was a pretty good day at work, I stayed current on everything and caught up on a few things. I even forced myself to finish the laundry and get to work on the dishes, but forgot to run the dishwasher before i went up to bed, so will turn it on when I head out to the office.

It’s weird to feel so awake and rested in the middle of the week, but we’ll see if I can make it through the day without hitting a wall, won’t we?

But I picked up an insane amount of prescriptions yesterday, and we had a lot of mail, too. My injectable medication arrived, so I got it home and refrigerated. We watched His and Hers, and a lot of the news, to get a grasp on what is going on. the country and it seems almost completely insane–but it has for many, many years. It is interesting watching white people wake up to the hell they’ve wrought upon us all. I particularly enjoyed watching one Chad Watts of Kyle, Texas, getting his ass kicked by kids he attacked yesterday–he naturally went nowhere near the boys, the BIG MAN got out of his truck, pushed a girl down and started swinging on another. The girls were handling themselves well by beating the snot out of him, but their fellow protesters were NOT TODAY SATAN NOT TODAY and turned Mr. Big Man–who clearly only attacks those he perceives as weaker–into a fucking example. Generation Z and Alpha are not having it, and I am with them. These are the kids who’ve grown up since babyhood aware that the rest of the country was perfectly fine with them being slaughtered at school, so are we really surprised they learned run, hide, fight in kindergarten? An adult comes for a group of kids, they are ALL going to come for you because that’s what our gun culture required them to be taught as soon as they could walk. So, seeing a pro-gun MAGA getting his ass kicked by a group of high school kids around the age of fourteen? Chef’s kiss, no notes. These kids have spent their entire lives being wary of being shot in class and you think they’re going to be right wing? Their future has also been throttled, we’re busy polluting the world they have to live in (not to mention all the climate change stuff), and they are aware they may never own a house, have a career, or a family because of the world the previous generation has left for them.

Funny how “but the children”” not only doesn’t apply to making sure they have clean water, healthy food, or clean air to breathe, but their futures. But then the “but the children” people don’t think pedophilia is a un-crossable line, either–despite their trying to blame all queer people for it, right, Chaya, you fucking syphilitic skank? How DO you feel about being played for a fool these last ten years, or let me guess–you’re ploughing ahead with full steam despite the truth slapping you repeatedly in your hideously evil face. I really do need to kill her off in a book soon, don’t I?

Hmmm.

I did actually finish and send out a newsletter yesterday (you can read it here, if you like), about putting together the Scotty Bible to help with continuity issues with the series. I want to do two more, with the second going out on release day (February 10, for the record) and the other maybe between now and then. I did work on my short story a bit yesterday, too, so I am getting back in the saddle of slow going again. Anything, however, is better than nothing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope your Wednesday is marvelous as you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here again tomorrow morning.

New Orleans really spoils us when it comes to parades. Every other parade now seems dull and pointless.

Talk to Me

Monday morning and it’s still cold. Go figure. Parades start this very Friday, and if it’s cold, well, I won’t be bold. I am not going out there to get sick from being out in the cold, and besides, I’m old. Maybe it’s all that history I read where someone old caught a chill that developed into pneumonia and death within days. As much as I joke about it, I am not in any rush to leap into my grave (or the crematorium, as it were). I just don’t like being sick–and last spring I was sick enough to last me for a lifetime, thank you very much. I am about ready for this cold to take a serious hike. Although apparently tomorrow’s high is going to be seventy? But then it gets cold again for the rest of the week, but not nearly as bad as this weekend and today are going to be. Layers, layers, layers.

Yesterday morning was disrupted by the power outage. It was only out for an hour, but it was enough to disrupt the day and throw it off track. I did read in bed under my blankets with my coffee until the power came back on, which was lovely. After which, I went downstairs and read while watching the news. I was pleased that Carlos Alcaraz won the Australian Open (I am no longer a fan of anti-vaxxer Novak Djokovic). After Paul got up we finished The Night Manager before moving on to His and Hers, which is interesting so far. I do enjoy Jon Bernthal, so there’s always that. (I didn’t like his take on American Gigolo, which could have been really great, but we didn’t finish.) I didn’t get a lot of anything done yesterday, overall, but I did get some chores done and the house won’t take much to look orderly. We’ll see how I feel when I get home. I have to make groceries on the way, but that’s not a big deal. I have some dishes to do and such, but other than that and straightening out the kitchen rugs, I think I am pretty caught up on the house? There’s no laundry left to do, the dishwasher is empty and ready to be loaded, so once I put away the groceries, I can do that.

The news, for the most part, has been good lately–or at least, better than it has been. This weekend’s Epstein reveals were staggering, and are only going to continue to get worse and worse. Murder? Rape? Torture? Cannibalism? How nice that our modern elites looked at Caligula’s court and said “hold my beer”, right? I mean, we’re still living under a fascist government, so the news can only be so good, you know? Minneapolis is still under siege, the Supreme Court continues to be a joke on the regular, and day by day the trash that voted for him to “own the libs” are slowly peeling away from him because the hellish policies of the mad king are affecting them, too–which “isn’t what they voted for.” Aw, shucks, sugar, we warned you and you mocked us–and while I am pragmatic enough to understand we need them to turn on all of this and vote it out; but that doesn’t mean I am forgiving anyone. Even those of us who voted for the lady with the weird laugh own this, too–because we’re Americans, and we could have done more to stop this. None of us get to say we aren’t responsible for this because it is our government, we’ve allowed this all to happen, and now we all have to come together to rebuilt it all back together and clean up this fucking mess.

That was part of the reason I wanted to watch Judgment at Nuremberg again–we haven’t finished, we only got about forty minutes into it–because of the entire notion of societal responsibility and guilt. After the war, the common German people–who’d seig heil‘ed and gone to the rallies and threw flowers and cheered the military parades–weren’t allowed to look away from their government had done in their name. The question of “true believer” or “too afraid to say anything” is something that can never really be answered. I was born sixteen years after the war ended in a neighborhood filled with war and post-war refugees from eastern Europe. I was shown the military films of the freeing of the camps in elementary school. I learned very young that fascism and Nazism were both evil. My childhood and teens were filled with stories of the MOSSAD tracking down Nazi war criminals, all over the world. There was a lot of World War II historical fiction out there, too, and even more fiction about Nazism rising again out of the ashes of history–William Goldman’s Marathon Man, for one, and Ira Levin’s brilliant The Boys from Brazil–and I did see Judgment at Nuremberg in my teens, which got me interested in the day-to-day German people, how the scourge rose to power, and what they lived through and experienced. We were taught that Nazis and fascism and antisemitism were societal evils…and that we Americans, with our freedoms and our democratic republic, were morally superior. (We were not–and in our American arrogance we also believed that such a thing could happen here.) Now we are in a situation (again) where our government has turned us into a rogue, authoritarian wannabe dictatorship–just as the Roman republic declined into an autocracy. Don’t blame us! we post on social media in response to foreign scolding, we didn’t vote for this!

How does that make us any better than the former supporters saying this now? The American penchant for dodging responsibility is perhaps our worst, most narcissistic, societal and cultural flaw.

And on that somber note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and try to stay warm if you can.

The dragon float arrives at the Orpheus Ball

Long Way To Go

I slept in a little this morning, until His Majesty King Sparky, Lord of the Lost Apartment, had enough of waiting for his meal and got me up. I feel rested–it really is amazing what a difference waking up naturally (rather than to an alarm) makes. I have to brave the cold today and run some errands, but I intend to get back home and inside as quickly as possible. This morning feels like a read in my chair morning with a blanket draped over me before getting cleaned up and running errands while slurping coffee, which absolutely sounds marvelous. I want to get some writing done today. I had an idea for a short story yesterday for a call for submissions I really would love to do something for, and I would like to get some of that done today or tomorrow. I was also thinking about other stories, and Chlorine, while I worked on the apartment, and also made some notes, which was pretty cool.

Yesterday was a lovely day around here–not so much in the outside world, as ever and always, more on that horror later on–in which I got up, got cleaned up, did my day job duties, and started cleaning and organizing the apartment. I got all the laundry done, a start on the books again, and started organizing the laundry room/pantry shelves. I tried reattaching the exhaust hose to the dryer vent numerous times, but it kept coming loose again, turning the room into a sauna briefly. This is going to call for drastic measures, methinks, like Gorilla tape or something similar. But the shelves in the pantry are starting to look neater and more organized, which is always a plus, you know? And very pleasing to look at, you know? I do still like neatness, organization, and tidiness.

I had the news on while I cleaned and organized and occasionally sat down for a break. I greatly enjoyed all the news about the Bezos bribe documentary, Melania, which might be worth streaming for free for the unintentionally funny parts. (Paul does the best imitation of her opening line from the shitty trailer, here we go again, that is so eerily spot on it creeps me out while making me laugh at the same time.) I doubt that it will become a cult classic for midnight viewing, like Showgirls or The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but you know it’s laughably bad. The review in The Guardian was hilariously brutal; I’ve bookmarked it to go back and read it again whenever I feel down and need a cruel laugh to cheer me back up, and who better to laugh at than the soulless Slovenian concubine? The latest Epstein files drop was particularly horrifying (I don’t think most of us have the creatively evil kind of imagination to even consider how horrible all of it actually is–but all you have to do is look at what this vile regime is doing to simply distract us from it to know that its filled with unimaginable horrors. I’ve always said killing the kids was all a part of it, and that was just scratching the surface; the start of the unspeakably vile horrors on that island and various other places. I mean, they arrested a journalist, kidnapped a head of state, killed Americans and Venezuelans, and bombed Iran (unsuccessfully). It’s big, its huge, and the national security of any number of countries are also involved–and we would see behind the curtains at last to see how the wealthy elites have been enriching themselves at our expense in order to do this kind of shit.

The guillotine is too merciful for these pricks. And I hope Don Lemon sues the fuck out of all of them for violating his civil rights, wrongful arrest, targeted prosecution, and abuse of fucking power.

God, how I hate them all.

I have been thinking about my next short story collection, This Town and Other Stories, and finally got the notebook down with the manuscript and notes to take a look and see what I have for it, and what else would need to be finished to finish the collection, and was very pleased to see that I’ve published and sold enough stories since the last time I thought about it that I do have an entire collection of published stories, and won’t need to do write any new ones for it, except as perhaps a bonus for the readers? But we shall see, won’t we?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines.

Ole Smokey, the Orpheus train float, is one of my favorites.