Third Rate Romance

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. The Saints lost yesterday, but at least it was an exciting game. I slept well and feel good this morning, which is a good thing. I have to cover the clinic today instead of having an Admin day, and we’re book pretty solid, just as we were last Thursday and almost everyone showed up. It’s fine, I do love my job after all, but sometimes that’s a little draining. Ah, well, I can go home after work and chill out with my Sparky, who was cuddling with me this morning after the first tap of the snooze button. Bless his little heart, that’s not exactly helping me get up in the morning.

Yesterday, despite the Saints loss, was pretty good. I felt good when I got up in the morning–there was some fatigue still in my hips, but nothing horrifying–and while I didn’t do all the chores I wanted to get done, I did do some, and ran the dishwasher. I still have all those boxes from Costco to take out to the trash, but maybe I can get that done tonight after work. But while the Saints game was on, I actually wrote and read some more of The Hunting Wives, which is so different from the show but in a very interesting way. And the writing work I got done was good work; I could tell as I was working that this was good stuff, which is awesome. The short story is due today, and I just need to sand down some of the rougher edges on it before I turn it in, and then full focus on getting Scotty finished. I was actually thinking a lot about the Scotty yesterday, too, which is kind of cool. I feel like I’m getting back into the writing groove again, and once the Scotty is finished, I’d like to get a rough draft of Chlorine finished by the end of the year and perhaps start another novel before January 1. We’ll see, I guess.

We also didn’t watch the Emmys, primarily because we don’t care that much, choosing to watch The Thursday Murder Club, with its incredible cast, instead. I’ve not read the book it was based on, but have heard great things about it, and the movie was absolutely charming and very well done. I do hope there will be more of these…and then we watched this week’s Platonic before starting the new season of Only Murders in the Building. (I saw someone on social media this weekend say that they were convinced the best way to watch the show was to assume Steve Martin and Martin Short are playing a gay couple–which I can actually see, but alas not canon.)

As many of us saw many so-called allies to marginalized communities slip into their Klan robes over the course of the last week and weekend, outing themselves as, if not racists and homophobes, then are certainly okay with homophobia and racism and oppression…this morning I noticed on social media that there’s yet another furor in the m/m community; this time about those conservative women who idolized the late unlamented provocateur and everything he stood for…I generally no longer comment on this subgenre of literature as a general rule because I have nothing to gain by saying anything. I noticed back in the late aughts that there was an awful lot of homophobia and bigotry and fetishization in that community, and merely asking “why do you want to write about gay men when you hate and marginalize them?” unleashed a torrent of hatred on me…you know, typical straight white women who cannot stand being questioned about anything. One of the “authors” publicly claimed that I was “clearly jealous of their careers”–um, you’re neither Harlan Coben nor Stephen King nor Nora Roberts; why would I be jealous of you? The vitriol and hate and dogpiling by these horrible women ON ACTUAL GAY MEN with questions about them and their motivations…no, can’t possibly be homophobic, could they? They also would threaten us with voting against queer equality unless we knuckled under to their appropriation and creation of a fake public homosexuality. The stark refusal of any m/m authors to denounce homophobes within their own community back then was kind of a tell to me that I and other gay men are not only not safe in those communities, but that they would always close ranks if there was anything critical from an “outsider.”

I’ve never cared who writes what, to be honest. If you want to write about gay men falling in love and finding their happily ever after, go for it and I wish you well with your writing and I hope you do well with it, as I do every other author out there (until you prove yourself to be filth). But if you’re going to, and you don’t support queer equality (or vote against it because reasons), you really need to look inward and reexamine yourself and your motivations: why are you writing (or reading) about people you don’t support or care about? How is that any less of a betrayal than those of performers who make money off queer audiences but actually hate them and are transactional (cough Kristin Chenowith among others cough)? If you write about queer people we are always going to assume you’re safe.

Talk about a bait and switch. You’re contemptible– a deplorable, if you will.

And yes, we get angry when we are stabbed in the back. It’s also why I never completely trust “allies.”

But it is nice, in 2025, to see m/m authors calling the homophobia out. Thank you, m/m writing community, for standing with us in this moment.

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

Midnight Ride

TIGERS WIN!

It was a great day of college football, and the day was capped off by LSU’s 20-10 win over Florida in Death Valley. The game was very tense, and turned into a defensive struggle the Tigers won. LSU’s offense looked a bit sluggish, but the defense was sharp despite losing two starting linebackers early in the game. Georgia-Tennessee was probably the best game of the day, a back and forth struggle with numerous lead changes in the fourth quarter until Georgia turned on the Georgia switch and won in overtime. After the LSU game, we watched the exciting finish of Notre Dame-Texas A&M (way to go, Aggies!), before going up to bed. I slept well, but do feel a bit laggard this morning. Hopefully, taking a shower and getting cleaned up in a moment will wake me completely. The Saints game is on at twelve, so I’ll just have it on while I’m cleaning and working today. Tulane also won yesterday, beating Duke, which is also cool; first time since 1998 both LSU and Tulane are both 3-0 to start the season. I still am not completely convinced LSU should be ranked third in the country, but as I watched yesterday I realized I don’t care much about the rankings, which really are nothing other than opinions, and often biased ones at that. I also don’t care about the play-off race, either, or who gets into it. I think I’m just watching for good games, really, nowadays, more than anything else. Of course I want LSU to win it all, but…no big deal if they don’t, either.

I did order groceries to be delivered yesterday, so I didn’t have to do anything outside of the house other than take out trash and light the grill (and cook). I’m going to have to walk over to Walgreens at some point (ugh) but other than that and taking out some recycling, I don’t have to go outside much today, either. It really is sad how much I tend towards being a housebound hermit.

It was really nice to shut the rest of the world out yesterday and focus on something besides the collapse of the country. I don’t think the Right’s attempt to turn Charlie Kirk into a martyr is going to work–and his “poor wife” is just as horrible as, if not worse, than the deceased. It’s always amazing to me the way people will always try to make victims out of conservative women, i.e. “poor Melania” or “poor Widow Kirk” etc., when they are exactly where they want to be and no one is forcing them to stay. They are completely on board with their husbands’ bigotry and hate, and reinforce it. They will even turn on their own men if they have second thoughts1. (I really do need to read They Were Her Property.) Tananarive Due also explores this sentiment somewhat in her brilliant The Reformatory also touched on this…and maybe it needs to be the focus of a book where I can explore it all.

I will also add that I am sick and tired of fucking straight white bitches who use my community to bolster (and build) their careers only to stab us all in the back. That’s so fucking despicable. I was never a fan of Kristin Chenowith before, (or Selma Blair, for that matter) and the fact this living troll doll (put a bone in her hair and see what she looks like) is perfectly willing to piss on the community makes me glad I never saw the appeal, frankly. The “pick me” theater gays will undoubtedly continue to worship her (I’ve seen them defending her, but her continued silence speaks more than volumes–i.e. she doesn’t feel the need to explain herself to her queer fans, so in other words…we can all go fuck ourselves. Prove me wrong), but there are also gay Republicans. I turned my back on Donna Summer in the 1980s; you think I’ll forgive this bitch for her opportunism? Here’s hoping she gets a pie in her face on her next opening night. She deserves worse.

Oh, dear, I wonder if this is going to get me on a list? Funny how the Right’s crackdown of free speech in the wake of Mr. Free Speech’s shooting goes against everything he (and they) supposedly believe in. And don’t even get me started on the waste of taxpayer money trying to canonize him since his death. They have a new Ashli Babbitt, don’t they? His-and-hers traitors to worship?

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

Sigh, Florence.
  1. Which was my primary takeaway from Gone with the Wind, by the way. ↩︎

Abraham, Martin and John

Wednesday and Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around for the first time in September. I didn’t sleep all that great, but don’t feel groggy at all this morning. However, if I had to I could easily go back to bed and fall asleep all over again. I am slowly starting to lift myself out of the abyss and pull my life back together. Yesterday was a pretty good day, actually. I felt great all day, not tired at all, and was able to get a lot done at the office. I wasn’t even tired when I got home after work, either! Huzzah and hurray! I spent some time getting caught up on the news when I got home, and then read for a while before Paul got home and I went to bed. I don’t know if this is all because of the injection on Monday, but whatever caused it, I am delighted and thrilled it happened. I suspect I’ll be a bit more tired this evening than I was yesterday, but I will happily take it, you know? The fatigue over the weekend was so intense and brutal–I’ve never been so tired it hurt, you know?–and I hope I never experience that again.

I am a bit tired this morning (mostly because of restless sleep and waking up several times during the night), but it’s not that horrible fatigue, which I fucking despise. I feel a little off, but nothing terrible that I can’t deal with, but no promises for this afternoon, you know? I was thinking about ordering groceries to be delivered this evening, but am not sure I shouldn’t just wait until Saturday. I am going to barbecue for the LSU-Florida game–burgers and cheese dogs, the regular tailgating action–and there are an awful lot of great games Saturday–Georgia-Tennessee, Wisconsin-Alabama, and two other games at the same time as LSU, Vanderbilt-South Carolina and Texas A&M-Notre Dame. I do love football season, even as it takes away from my productivity.

At least I enjoy cleaning while the games are on.

The world and country continue to burn to the ground, and social media continues to be filled with bots, grifters, rage baiters, and sad, broken people lashing out in a pathetic attempt to somehow feel better about themselves as American mediocrities and failures. I have very little hope for the future of this country, now that the small-minded hateful bigots who don’t understand the first thing about freedom and liberty are in control. It’s also interesting to see how many Americans are into the whole fascism thing. Sinclair Lewis was very prescient with It Can’t Happen Here, wasn’t he? I also saw some insane shit-posting about To Kill a Mockingbird being racist1, but not for the reasons most people do. No, this empty-minded moron was bitching about the book being racist because it showed an all-white jury wrongfully convicting a Black man for a crime they knew he didn’t commit thus making white people look bad.

Excuse the fuck out of me?

As I replied, you’re right–it would have never gotten to trial. He would have been lynched the same night he was accused.

Because that was how it was done in Alabama in the 1930s, and to suggest anything else is a blatant lie.

I also love the MAGA bitch from Georgia who got the proposed Hyundai plant shut down completely, dealing a harsh blow to her own state’s economy and that of the district she is running to represent. If this were an episode of Law & Order, her body would be found and they’d work their way back around to her ignorance and stupidity. I am so tired of the rampant stupidity as the American empire crumbles and dies…this is going to be one of those times future history students will look back on and think but why were they so stupid? Couldn’t they SEE?

I was once that child reading history.

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

Artist’s rendering of the Temple at Edfu, Egypt
  1. My feelings about To Kill a Mockingbird are very conflicted, as I don’t see it as a great American novel about race the way most white people see it, and that may become an essay at some point. ↩︎

Come Monday

Monday morning and I am not really awake yet. My legs still feel stiff and fatigued, and my brain is a bit cloudy, but I am back to the office today and thus need to wake myself up before it’s time to get in the car and go, you know? My coffee tastes great and it’s going down easily. Today is also the day the nurse comes by to teach me how to give myself an injection, and use the device I have to attach to myself for five minutes while it pumps the medication into me. Exciting times, am I right? I also am going to have to get up and go have blood drawn on Friday again, too. How many times have I had to have my skin pierced this year? Quite a fucking few. But at least I’ll have something to talk about tomorrow morning, won’t I? Heavy heaving sigh.

Monday mornings are always a struggle, you know, but this one is worse than my usual Monday. I am still fatigued–the legs are aching–and my mind is clearing, but there’s still some vestiges of Morpheus lagging inside my head. It’s going to be a struggle today, methinks, and I have to make some groceries on the way home, too. Sigh. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble sleeping this evening, and will probably be snoring in my chair by nine.

We did catch up on some of our shows last night after the US Open and the truly sad Saints game, watching another episode of Foundation, one of Peacemaker, and started the second half of Wednesday before calling it an evening so I could get ready for work and go to bed at an earlier time than I would have preferred. I also read more deeply into the manuscript, and I also need to start doing the tarot reading that tells the story in chapter headings.

I also had a lovely exchange on social media yesterday about some of the Broadway legends who’ve come to the Tennessee Williams Festival. I always forget that being Mrs. Festival has always enabled me to meet acting legends like Marian Seldes, Frances Sternhagen, and Zoe Caldwell, who were all absolutely lovely and fun to be around. I had a lovely conversation at dinner with Frances that I will always cherish as a memory, and of course, Marian was incredibly kind and generous, and Zoe was an absolute hoot. Sometime I’ll need to sit down and go through the old programs and remind myself of all the famous people I’ve met. (John Waters remains my favorite.)

I also became aware of an interesting story regarding the LSU Marching Band…a retired gentleman named Kent Broussard has joined the band! He’s sixty-six years old, and he had a dream that he wanted to play tuba in the marching band for LSU. So he bought a tuba a few years ago, took lessons, and enrolled in classes so he could audition for the band. He made it! Saturday was his first performance at a home game. Isn’t that cool?

I love being reminded that you’re never too old to pursue your dreams, don’t you?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, and I’ll be back with a full report on the injection tomorrow!

Heard It In A Love Song

Can’t be wrong.

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I am exhausted again. Yesterday morning I was still a bit on the foggy side mentally, and kind of planned to just hang out all day until it was time to meet people at Lilette for dinner at seven. I settled in with my manuscript, turned the television onto college football, and got started. I had completely forgotten I’d agreed to meet folks for a drink in the afternoon. Once I got the reminder text, I leapt into action and got cleaned up, summoning a Lyft. I wound up also going to the Queer Crime Writers’ cocktail hour at the Ritz Carlton bar, and from there it was on to Lilette for dinner, which was amazing and a lot of fun. I am exhausted again this morning, but it’s not as bad as it was on Friday (thank God) despite getting home late and kind of overdoing it again. But again, I can just retire to my easy chair with the manuscript and my red pen and post-it notes so I can get moving on this damned thing.

LSU won in what was apparently a very sloppy game for the offense, only beating Louisiana Tech 23-7, or something like that. I’m not really sure about the games yesterday and how they all turned out, so I am probably going to have to watch a video about them this morning before I get to work on the manuscript. I also saw that Florida, LSU’s next opponent, lost to USF at home, which is not a good look for them or their hot-seated coach. So, will Florida be fired up to take that loss out on LSU, or will LSU clean up its act and bury Florida? It’s almost always a great game, regardless–rarely does one team blow the other out, no matter what their rankings or records.

There are some great games next weekend, though, so that will be a lot of fun.

I may do some chores later after I’ve read for a bit. This aching-joint thing is not fun, just so you know. In fact, I think I’m going to go rest for a moment before I finish writing this.

Okay, I am back. I am still very fatigued and foggy, but I sat for a while in my chair and watched some news and college football scores, and feel a bit better and more clear headed. My stomach is being a bit weird, but I am also due for my first injection tomorrow so maybe this isn’t the start of a relapse (the fatigue was worrying, despite what my doctor said), which was a relief.

After I do finish and post this, I am going to get a bit cleaned up and dive back into the reading with the USOpen men’s final on in the background–like it is now. I like both players (although I think Carlos Alcaraz is cuter), so just want to listen (and occasionally look up to see) great tennis.

I would also like to shout out to those who won Anthony Awards last night, and especially Curtis Ippolito (Best Short Story), K. T. Nguyen (Best First), Rob Osler (Best Humorous), and all the others I can’t think of right now. I met Ms. Nguyen at Noir at the Bar, and she’s delightful (as was her reading), and of course Curtis and Rob are friends–and Rob is a queer writer of queer mysteries, so huzzah for this groundbreaking win! MORE QUEER WINNERS, please!

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

Rock and Roll Heaven

Well, yesterday was a lesson to me.

I was fatigued like I haven’t been since before I went into the hospital. Everything ached–back, hips, ankles, and neck–and my muscles were so damned tired that getting up and walking into the kitchen became more and more horrific every time I did. The coffee yesterday morning staved the exhaustion for a while, but it was really my worst day since May. I did get my day job duties done, but any thoughts about going down to Bouchercon were off the table as I was exhausted. I wound up falling asleep in my chair around nine last night, went upstairs around eleven, and slept until nine this morning with no objection from Sparky…so he knew how tired I was, precious little darling that he is. Even now he’s not trying to attack my feet or calves the way he usually does when I am sitting here typing in the morning. He’s so adorable, really. Who knew I’d turn into a cat person for the latest third of my life?

Tonight I am having dinner with some of the Queer Crime Writers at Lilette, which will be nice, and I was thinking yesterday that it might not hurt to go down there around four or five, see some people and hang out before dinner. (Sparky just attacked my left leg, so we’re back to normal here in the Lost Apartment this morning.) But given how exhausted I was yesterday…not sure if I should risk it, in all honesty. But I think part of it yesterday was not sleeping terribly well–my body was exhausted, but my mind was overstimulated and I couldn’t turn it off, plus I didn’t get home until after midnight and had to get up early. Maybe if I’d had time to nap yesterday there might have been a different outcome? I honestly don’t know. But today I am going to continue to rest and recover (my doctor told me yesterday morning that the fatigue occurrences also have to do with my newly compromised immune system and getting used to the medication and should probably no longer be an issue by the new year, greeeeeaaaaaatttt), and see how I feel this afternoon about heading down there. I think all I am really going to do much of today is reading here on the home front, along with some chores. Paul has his trainer this afternoon so he won’t be around much today, either. I am hopeful that taking it fairly easy today will put me in a position to do some writing tomorrow.

And no, seeing pictures on social media aren’t giving me FOMO, either–which is emotional progress, isn’t it?

And since I have a compromised immune system, is it wise to be in a massive crowd of people in the first place? Probably not, since the world is full of assholes as we learned during COVID (which hasn’t gone away, just no one talks about it anymore), and I also need to follow up with the pharmacy to make sure that a) they have it and b) which brand it is, because the prescription has to be exact. You can’t just write a prescription for the vaccine, you have to know whether it’s Moderna or Pfizer or whatever brand they are now. Thanks again, RFK Jr, you leather-skinned incompetent asshole and you also must be so glad both your parents are dead. When your entire family comes out against you…what does that say? But then again the Kennedy name used to be hated with the heat of a dozen white-hot stars the way the names Clinton and Obama are now, and conservative haters have long memories.

And on that note, I am going to take my manuscript to my chair and start reading during the dreadful morning football shows (there are very few ESPN football commentators I don’t loathe), so you have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning with a report on today.

I love artists’ renderings of Egyptian sites!

Swingtown

Wednesday and my last day in the office for the week! I was very tired yesterday when I got home from work, so very little was achieved here once I left the office. I did have a very good and productive day at work yesterday, and I don’t feel terribly tired this morning. I spent the evening catching up on the day’s news (I don’t know why I do this; I won’t ever have to look up the news I am really waiting for because his death will be everywhere and the celebration will be like the one at the end of Return of the Jedi), and then turned the television on the to US Open until I fell asleep in my chair between eight thirty and nine before going to bed shortly before ten. I am living large, am I not?

But I have the rest of the week off–I am hosting Noir at the Bar tomorrow night so I took the day off, and I have doctors’ appointments on Friday–and not having anything carved in rock to do for the weekend of Bouchercon is lovely. Both last night and this morning, the idea of not being around at all is more appealing than the thought of going and seeing people. I’m really not fully recovered from the illness yet, and the last thing in the world I want or need is a relapse or flare-up. I don’t want to feel like that ever again, frankly, and I hope the flare-ups are very few and very far in between.

LSU climbed in the rankings in yesterday’s polls, going to 3 in the AP poll and 4 in the coaches’ poll. I think this might be overrating; yes, they looked terrific on Saturday night at Clemson but we also don’t really know how good Clemson is, predicated on anything other than last season. They lost several games last year, including to South Carolina (whom LSU beat in their home stadium last year), and sure, they and their coach have a history of excellence…but Clemson hasn’t really been a contender since the last time they lost to LSU, in the championship game for 2019. Likewise, is Auburn back, or is Baylor terrible? Could be a very interesting college football season.

I got through most of my to-do list yesterday, and that was enormously pleasing. There wasn’t much traffic yesterday, either. I guess people took yesterday off? I’m actually hoping that they took the week so there’s not any traffic today. This cool streak appears to be holding through the weekend, but then again–People Not From Here don’t view temperatures the same way we do down here…I always forget that for most people high 80’s no humidity is uncomfortably hot for them. (Like I always forget that PNFH also love local food, so much so that places I think are “touristy” and would never pick are places they wind up loving. I got a reminder of that at Saints & Sinners this year…and that makes things so much easier when people ask about places to eat, too.)

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

Galveston

I always wanted to write a romantic suspense novel, a la Phyllis A. Whitney’s, set in Galveston where some of the mystery dates back to the Great Hurricane of 1900. It seemed like the perfect setting for one of her novels–she was very much a master of place and wanted her readers to get a very strong sense of where the books were set–and who knows? Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday I’ll take a week and spent it on the island doing research and getting a sense of the place.

Stranger things have happened, after all.

Good morning on this fine Labor Day, and I am up early because Sparky was incredibly hungry and hadn’t been fed in forever (per him) but I don’t mind being up early. I have things to do today and I’ve been fatigued all weekend and unable to do much of anything. I’m not entirely sure how this weekend slipped so completely through my fingers the way it did, but that’s fine. I must have needed the rest. Yesterday started out fine but by the time the afternoon rolled around I was fatigued and around two I finally gave up on getting much done and plopped down in my chair to watch the South Carolina/Virginia Tech and Miami/Notre Dame games (both teams I wanted to win, did. Huzzah!). We did take some time off from the Miami game to finish watching Hostage, which was quite excellent, before switching back to the game. I feel asleep and went to bed before it was over, so naturally I checked the score first thing this morning over my coffee. It was an interesting weekend of college football to get the season started. This week’s rankings will be interesting, but I am also of the mindset that rankings this early in the season–before we know how good anyone is–are pointless and predicated on reputation and how well they did last year…but that’s also a fallacy nowadays. Florida State was 2-10 last year; who would have ever thought they would beat ALABAMA this year?

It may not be a good season for Alabama fans, who are the most impatient in the world.

I also spent some time yesterday reading The Hunting Wives, which is very different thus far than the television show–but in a good way, which is like enjoying the same story twice. If you like the story, you should enjoy it, right? The television show reminded me of glossy melodramatic soaps from the 1980s, Knots Landing and Dallas and Lace and others of a similar tone, and was incredibly fun with lots of twists and turns. The book is different. It’s glossy the way the show is, but there’s also a raw kernel of honesty/unreliability in the POV character that is very different from the show. I did some writing work–mostly thinking some things through and taking notes–but not much and I’ll need to do more today.

I need to make a to-do list for today only and see how it all works out. I should also update the weekly one I currently am working on. At least I am up early, right? I am not sure how busy we’ll be in the office this week, but I only have two days in the office this week anyway. Paul has his trainer this afternoon, and so will be out of the house most of the day after sleeping in, so I’ll have some focus time for writing today.

I love my new phone, by the way, but need to stop playing with it all the time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Labor Day, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning again.

Oh Sherrie

Saturday in the Lost Apartment, and I am going to take it very easy this morning. I got my flu shot yesterday after work, and it knocked me for a loop the way it does every year. It also occurs to me that this year’s much worse reaction has everything to do with the ulcerative colitis, a compromised immune system, and the medication I take for it. Last evening, as I switched between the US Open and the Auburn-Baylor game (WAR EAGLE!) while trying to read The Hunting Wives, I didn’t feel sick or anything, just exhausted and my joints (especially the hips) ached and kept locking up, so every time I got up to do something it was awkward and uncomfortable at first as everything unkinked. The hips ache again this morning, too.

I was hoping to not leave the house today, but I have to replace my phone. Thursday night when I got home from work I couldn’t find my phone before I went to bed. I used the “find my phone” feature, and discovered it was last located at the corner of Marigny and Claiborne, where I turn onto Claiborne. Yesterday morning I went to look for it, but the battery was undoubtedly dead and that was its last known location. I couldn’t find it anywhere, so obviously someone found it. I erased it once I got back home, and one of my errands yesterday was to go to the AT&T store on St. Charles to replace it. The girl who “helped” me wasn’t very good at her job, I think, because she finally just told me to go to the other store on Magazine Street. It was all very weird and strange, and having already had the flu shot was already getting tired, so I went to Raising Cane’s to get something to eat and came home. So I have to go to the store on Magazine this morning, and might as well go by the mail and the Fresh Market on my way home, hopefully with a new phone. It’s been weird not having one, but kind of nice at the same time. I really need to break my phone addiction.

College football season has already sort of started, but it kicks into gear today. LSU plays at Clemson tonight, Alabama plays Florida State (I think?) and Texas is at Ohio State today. I’ll probably not do much of anything except some chores during the games. A new football season is always kind of exciting because nobody really knows what will happen, and the “rankings” are based on nothing more than last year’s results and the opinion of “experts”–and the older I get the less I want to hear from “experts.” The only truly decent commentator–one who isn’t full of himself and talks to hear himself talk–is Greg McElroy, the former Alabama quarterback. He is a sports journalist, he isn’t biased, and he takes his job seriously. I wish he was the primary color commentator for SEC games. Sigh. I really miss Keith Jackson every Saturday in the fall…

I wrote and published my Katrina newsletter/essay (click there to read it if you haven’t and want to), and of course last night as I watched the third episode of Spike Lee’s Katrina: Come Hell and High Water, which was quite excellent. It also reminded me of the biggest lesson out of Katrina, one that I didn’t even realize I’d learned until watching last night: I learned rom the Katrina experience just how privileged I am, and it was the first time in my life I “woke” up and realized it. We had the means to leave, so our story isn’t nearly as traumatic as that of those who couldn’t leave. We lived in the “sliver by the river” so our streets didn’t flood in my neighborhood; our damage was from above with losing the roof…but we still had a place to live in New Orleans so we could come back while the roof and apartment were repaired. Our jobs survived the disaster so we still had income. We didn’t have to ride the storm out in the Superdome, or needed to be rescued from our roof. Yes, the event was traumatizing, but I never felt like I had the right to complain about our situation because we were so much luckier than so many others. There was also that weird experience of, for months and even years, having to catch up on Katrina stories when I ran into someone I hadn’t seen for awhile. “Are you back for good?” was always one of the things I’d ask to start with.

And, oh, it was so lovely running into those folks again!

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

And We Danced

Tuesday morning and an easy day at the office was had by me yesterday. The in-service employee development day counted as a full day of work, so I got to leave at two yesterday, which was a rather pleasant surprise once I started figuring out my hours (new pay period; we get paid on Wednesday). I did manage to get everything caught up on that I needed to get caught up on, and that always feels good. Alas, once I got home it was a different story. I ran by the post office to get the mail on the way home (my new coffee mugs!) but once I got home, I kind of ran out of steam. I’d felt a little “off” all day, and when I got home, it hit with a vengeance. I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I was very fatigued physically and mentally…so it was US Open and an episode of Foundation. I also fell asleep in my chair around eight o’clock. Not sure what that was all about yesterday, but here’s hoping today will be a better one. I think we are slow again today in the clinic–no one gets tested the week before Southern Decadence…a proud tradition the New Orleans gays participate in every year; they’ll all be coming in after.

And there will be symptoms.

I feel good this morning, even though I didn’t really want to get up and out of bed this morning…it’s so warm and comfortable under my pile o’blankets. Sparky was even cuddly this morning, around trying to get me to wake up and feed him. He really is a sweetheart…as I look at the scabs all over my hands and arms from his claws.

September is almost upon us–this weekend, in fact–as well as LSU’s football season opening and then it’s Bouchercon, and next thing you know, it’s mid-September. Time does seem to go past much more quickly the older you get. It’s a cliché, but clichés become clichés for a reason. (Same with stereotypes–something I’ve taught multiple times; ‘how to write outside your experience” type things.) I have a lot of things to try to get done next week–people to see, mostly, other than Noir at the Bar on Thursday night–so I really need to focus this week and get ahead rather than falling behind. I do regret being so fatigued yesterday (it feels like wasted time to me, but getting rest when you need it isn’t a waste; I am being much kinder to myself these days), but am not beating myself up over it. I think sometimes I get depressed, but in a different way than most people think about when they hear “depression”–sure, sometimes I used to really get terribly down, but now I’m not truly aware of it until my brain and body show signs, like being tired. It’s also hard because I am still recovering from the physical trauma of being so horribly sick (and getting paranoid every time my digestive system does something or feels off, like it did yesterday–fearing that I’m going to have another episode). There are so many things anything could be! Just getting older, still recovering, maybe depression, maybe anxiety, and on and on and on it all goes.

Heavy sigh.

I also didn’t do much around the house last night. I forgot to turn the dishwasher on yesterday morning before I left the house (I did, however, remember this morning), and I also didn’t pick up anything or vacuum or anything. I was serious when I said I wasted the evening in my chair! Hopefully tonight when I get home I’ll have some energy. I’ll need to unload the dishwasher (and load it again) and I think there’s some laundry that also needs doing, as well as picking up and cleaning and writing.

I also need to update my to-do list.

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

Ah, those Chippendales calendars. In the 1980s, muscle boys hadn’t all started shaving off all their body hair yet…and hairy is a good look for this dude.