Category: football

Just What I Needed

Monday and back to the office with me today. Yesterday was nice and relaxing; I worked on writing for a while, didn’t do as many chores as I should have, and watched a couple of shows. I didn’t want to get out of bed again this morning–no surprise there–and am a little bummed to not have another day off as of yet. But I’ll survive, as I always do, which is no more than I should expect, one supposes. It’s hard to believe that it’s August and my birthday is looming, as is football season and Bouchercon is also coming to New Orleans the first week of next month. I’ve got a lot to get done in the month of August, and I really need to buckle down and apply my nose to said grindstone. It’s just tough when you have to battle fatigue and exhaustion all the time.

We watched the Netflix documentary series Amy Bradley Is Missing, which was interesting and terribly sad at the same time. I cannot imagine the pain of having a family member disappear without a trace the way Amy Bradley did off that cruise ship. As a disappearance of a family member is the crucial plot element of a book I am researching to write at some point in the future (The Summer of Lost Boys), watching this kind of counted as research for that, as it gave me insight as to how a working class family would react to such an occurrence and how the family would be permanently damaged….which also got me thinking about aftermaths to crime and horror stories. How do you go on with your life after fighting supernatural threats? Or after being a murder suspect? Or having someone close to you commit a serious and most heinous crime?

After dinner, we started watching a new Mexican erotic thriller series on Netflix, whose title translates to Unspeakable Sins. Like all Spanish-language erotic thriller series, there’s plenty of sex and nudity; we only watched three episodes (there’s two seasons of nine episodes each) but even trying to summarize the plot thus far–but the primary plot concerns Helena, a wealthy woman in a very controlling marriage to an older man, who starts having an affair with a very hot young escort, whom she convinces to flirt with her bisexual husband so they can get video of the two of them together and she can use the video as leverage to divorce him. Ivan pretends to be a journalist doing a story on Claudio, Claudio is attracted to him, but things go south–they fight and Ivan’s story is he ran away. But there’s blood all over the house and Claudio is now missing…can Ivan trust Helena or is she playing him for a fool, setting him up to take the fall for his murder?

That’s the primary story, but there are subplots as well that are just as intense.

Ivan is played by gorgeous Andres Baida. I mean…

Sexy Andres Baida
He was also in Control Z and Who Killed Amy?

Gorgeous, just gorgeous.

I also spent some time processing seeing friends from high school that I hadn’t seen in almost fifty years. (The fact that it’s been almost fifty years since I graduated from high school also needs processing, but that will have to wait until I am done with this initial processing.) Every time I’ve had a conversation with someone from high school in the last thirty years–it’s not often and it’s not many–how they remember me, and high school, are vastly different from how I remember things, but they also never knew how miserable and unhappy I was. I always put on a good face; I always try to make the best out of every situation I find myself dealing with as they come up, especially when it’s not something you can change or alter in any meaningful way. As I’ve stated before, I’ve always thought I was odd-looking and never really had a fit body until I was in my thirties. But…seeing pictures from back then…I was wrong about how I looked (I’ve always been wrong about that, frankly) and my impact on other people. Both women remember me as having a really muscular fit body and being handsome and very kind and considerate and thoughtful–and funny; I’ve always been funny.

And I did work on writing yesterday. I edited another piece and wrote out what changes need to be made to it to make it stronger. I also did some laundry and a load of dishes, but didn’t pick up too much of the mess in the apartment. I do enjoy spending down time with Paul and Sparky, and really wish we were both retired and just hanging out around the apartment all day. Paul likes to be busy, though, so I do think he will take some adjusting if and when he finally does retire. I won’t be retiring for another few years yet; not going at 65, much as I would like to, so I have to get my shit together leading up to when I finally do.

After work today, I have to make groceries on the way home, and I’m hoping to do some writing tonight before we jump back into Unspeakable Sins.

So on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be checking in with you again in the morning.

No Way Out

Work at home Friday, and I’ve already gotten my bloodwork done and my X-rays taken. It was amazingly easy and took very little time. I drove over to Touro this morning and was out of Quest Labs by 8:10, after which I took the pedestrian bridge across the street to Touro Hospital, and was all X-rayed and back in my car by 8:30 and home by 8:35! It all went so easily and quickly I never had a chance to open the book I brought with me–Megan Abbott’s El Dorado Drive–so that will have to wait until I take a break at some point today. I am very excited to have a new Megan Abbott to read; I’ve been a huge fan since I read Bury Me Deep for an award over fifteen years ago, I think? I have now read all of her works, and so always anxiously await the arrival of a new one. I think we’re going to Costco when I finish my work today, and this weekend we’ll be seeing Superman–the MAGA outrage only serving to whet my appetite for the film all the more. The apartment is, of course, it’s usual disaster area this morning, but the dishwasher is running and I’m about to start the laundry. Getting there!

I also need to get back on my writing horse. The headache (which I still have) this week has been highly annoying and has interfered with most of my intellectual pursuits this week, which truly sucks. I still get new ideas all the time–that curse will carry me to the grave, methinks–but I’m struggling to actually get writing done. This is what happens when you fall off the wagon and don’t write for a while; you get out of practice–at least I do, and it’s hard to get back into that groove again, which kind of sucks. I am hoping that this weekend will do the trick for me. I don’t feel tired this morning (just the damned headache), and actually feel pretty awake, so maybe today will be a good day.

I was groggy most of yesterday at work–that Thursday malaise–and made groceries on my way home from the office AND picked up the mail. Sparky was pretty needy and I was tired by the time I got home, so I just sat in my chair getting caught up on the news–always a depressing slog–until Paul got home. We finished MurderBot last night, and was sorry to see it end, frankly. Would I find Alexander Skarsgard as charming and likable if he wasn’t gorgeous? But the actor and character are certainly perfectly matched, and when I looked it up last night the show has been renewed for a second season, which could be difficult to pull off–given the finale of the first season. We’ll give it a go, of course–the one thing I prefer about Apple+ to Prime and Netflix is they give shows more than one season.

I wish they’d bring The Morning Show back for another season.

And football season looms just over the horizon, too.

And the demon cat has grown bored with attacking me and has disappeared. *Whew*, now I can get some things done without getting bitten and clawed. (He’s just playing, I know, but that doesn’t make the teeth or claws any less sharp and skin-piercing!) I feel pretty good–the coffee is hitting the spot and my breakfast is going down well. I’m not as hungry as I was since getting out of the hospital, so maybe my body is settling back into being what it normally was. I’ve not had dinner–or had any desire for it–since Monday night; which was also the last day I was on the steroid. Maybe the headache is steroid withdrawal? It could be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I’ll be back either tonight or tomorrow morning.

Pictures of You

Yesterday was lovely, really. Sparky let me sleep a little longer than normal, and I felt good when I woke up, although unsure as to whether or not I would be fatigued and foggy-brained yet again for the day. But breakfast and morning coffee were marvelous, and I started doing some chores while watching coverage of the game from the other night. I also was basking a bit in the afterglow of that insane final two innings and the insanity of the win–going into that bottom of the ninth, and two outs from Arkansas winning? Apparently, Arkansas has never won the College World Series and is also 0-5 overall playing LSU there. That, and the fact that errors cost them this game, has got to be galling for their fans. I’m sure it doesn’t go down any easier since the Razorbacks also see LSU as one of their major rivals. It’s also kind of weird–and nice–to see LSU fans on-line congratulating and talking up the Razorbacks since the game; we all felt bad for those kids suffering through such a heartbreaking loss. I was glad to see it wasn’t just me; the finals will seem almost kind of anticlimactic now. I hope the Arkansas players–especially poor Charles Davalan–are feeling better now. And now I kind of feel like I should root for them in the future when they aren’t playing LSU. Well done, Arkansas baseball team–you’ve made Arkansas a secondary team for me to root for, which I would have never thought possible.

It’s never dull being an LSU fan. That game was intense.

Anyway.

I also watched Surviving Ohio State–Jim Jordan should be behind bars–while finishing The Dark on the Other Side, which was a lot more interesting than I remembered. All of Barbara Michaels’ work is good, but this one isn’t quite as good as the ones I consider her best (Ammie Come Home, The Crying Child, Be Buried in the Rain, House of Many Shadows, and Witch); but she is an excellent Gothic writer, and probably a much bigger influence on me as a writer mysel than I’ve probably ever realized; the Scotty books are actually kind of similar in tone to some of her Elizabeth Peters novels, which are also delightful. I am debating what my next reread will be; I was thinking about another Michaels that I’ve not revisited in a while (The Crying Child) or, since it’s Pride Month, perhaps Myra Breckinridge? I was thinking about Gore Vidal the other day, which reminded me of the book, and wondered how it would hold up to modern scrutiny. I will not lie; I’ve read it twice at different periods of my life and didn’t know what to make of it–and with the current day trans community under relentless attack, I thought maybe try it again? I do remember how it ends, and I am not entirely certain how any reading of the book could make the ending not problematic–but the thing about Vidal is he never gave a shit; I can only imagine how vitriolic he would be about modern times and social media and trigger warnings…he died before social media became the monster it did, and when someone came for him he threw acid back at them. He didn’t mind offending people, nor did he take criticism well.

Although I suppose the fact Myra Breckinridge has never appeared on any list of great and/or influential and/or important queer novels that I’ve ever seen is probably giving me my answer about whether the book has aged well or not.

Surviving Ohio State was horrifying, simply horrifying. I do not believe Jim Jordan and the head coach didn’t know what was going on, but I also can’t understand why they didn’t stop it. It was also infuriating to see how shitty people can be about male sexual assault victims (the patriarchy at work again, hand in glove with toxic masculinity), especially ones that are athletes, without taking into consideration how young and naïve so many of them were. I’ve been thinking a lot about the things we take for granted in order to function in this life and world, and one of the things is trusting medical professionals. When you’re young and have been raised to with that institutional trust (trusting doctors, and trusting that your college will take care of you and protect you from predators), and the fact that it seems like everyone knows and acts like it’s not a big deal (Narrator Voice: It was, in fact, quite a big fucking deal), what do you do? It’s horrifically corrupt, just as both Penn State and Michigan State were institutionally corrupt in how they handled their athletic staff’s predatory conduct. The documentary left me very angry, and hating Jim Jordan even more than I already did. (Of course, if I were writing the story Dr. Strauss would have been murdered, which would have uncovered his behavior–only to have the murder not be related to the abuse at all.) Unsettling, but I think everyone should watch this documentary.

Today is a work remotely day, and I feel pretty good this morning. I rested for the most part yesterday, which was nice, and slept really well last night, too. I have things to get done today–some of it very tedious, but it has to be done–for work but being at home makes it a little better for me. We’re going to go to Costco after work today, and run some other errands as well, before coming home and settling in for the weekend. I have a lot of things I need to get done this weekend, writing-wise, so hopefully today won’t wear me out too much and I can get everything done. I need to finish a short story, and I need to work on some of my other writing as well. If I miss the short story deadline it’s not the end of the world; the story is an excerpt from what I hope will turn out to be a much longer work, so if I don’t get it finished and submitted it’s not the end of the world. I didn’t anticipate the fatigue and foggy brain I’d get from Monday’s infusion, and so didn’t really plan for it.

AH, well.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and make my breakfast before going to work. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back either later today or tomorrow morning. Until then…

Nureyev. Need I say more?

Shake It

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills morning, and hopefully I won’t be as tired today as I was yesterday. I feel like I slept really well last night, and I don’t feel either tired or foggy-brained this morning. Since I’m driving tomorrow to Alabama after work, I am very relieved to have slept well. There really is nothing like a good night’s sleep, is there? I made it home from work in one piece, worked on some chores for a while, and then collapsed into my easy chair to watch more episodes of Arrested Development (we were only going to watch one, and turned it off after three). It feels good to laugh, you know? I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a good belly laugh, you know? But my word, I was tired when my raggedy ass dragged itself into the Lost Apartment. It’s been a hot minute since I was that tired.

I was tired all day yesterday after the shock of waking up to no power1 and no coffee and thus no usual morning routine before work. I don’t usually drink the coffee at work (I have some at home, and then bring another cup with me to work that I drink the rest of the morning), but did yesterday and yes, it was just as bad as I anticipated it would be, and only could choke down two cups of it. The end result was under-caffeination, plus I couldn’t really fall back asleep after waking at four thirty, knowing I might sleep through since my alarm wasn’t going to go off. AUGH. But I persevered and persisted, and managed to make it home in one piece. I did start the laundry, and tonight I’ll have to pack since I am leaving work early to head north on 59. I’m looking forward to seeing Dad again, and it’s always a bit weird (and inspiring) to spend time up there where we’re from. I don’t think I’m going to write another Alabama book for a while–I have several others in queue waiting to be written–but there are short stories and other things that can be written until I’m ready for the next Alabama book. Even the short story I am working on is an Alabama story. I have to run errands on the way home tonight, do some chores when I do get home, and I also have to pack.

They caught Scrim!

For those of you who don’t know Scrim, he’s a rescue dog that caught everyone in New Orleans’ fancy when he escaped the first time, going on the run for months. There was even a Facebook group for updates and sightings; it was the kind of fun thing that will capture everyone’s attention. Everyone was delighted when the adorable little scamp was caught that first time–but he escaped again less than a week later, only to finally be caught again yesterday morning. You can read more about him here. I definitely have to write Scrim into a Scotty book–and if not Scrim, a similar, but fictional, escape artist puppy. There’s literally so much material here; I don’t know how anyone writing about New Orleans could ever run out of things to say about this marvelous magical city. I do think New Orleans won the Super Bowl; everyone seemed to have a great time, and I actually really appreciated the focus on New Orleans artists. The pregame and halftime shows, which I’ve now viewed on Youtube, definitely made a statement–but I fear that should another hurricane disaster occur here while it is still president he won’t authorize aid or help for us because New Orleans represents everything he hates: majority Black, majority vote for Democrats in ever election (and it’s not even remotely close), and now we put on a show for him that he didn’t like? Yeah, he hates our city now, guaranteed. Hopefully it means he’ll never come back here, praise Jesus, but it doesn’t bode well for disaster relief in the future…but I am glad we didn’t buckle under and obey in advance like so many quislings are doing.

I also have to pick a book to listen to in the car. Maybe the latest Carol Goodman? The Lev Rosen I started reading? I guess I could check what I have on audio and haven’t listened to yet–turns out there’s a lot there, including some short ones. If I don’t finish the second one I listen to (if I go with two shorter ones) I can finish while cleaning or something. I don’t know, but I will figure it out. Decisions, decisions. I am also hoping to stop at Whataburger in Tuscaloosa on the way, too. Ah, I am so easy to please, aren’t I?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday and I will check in with you again later.

  1. Yes, a minor inconvenience that I treat like a war crime; well aware. ↩︎

I Just Wanna Stop

Tuesday and Payday Eve. I woke up this morning around four thirty–that sense that something was off, somehow; I glanced at my clock and it was dark. Paul was listening to music on his phone and working on his laptop–and had a candle lit. Yes, the power was out, so when I did get up there was no coffee for me, I had to pack my lunch in the dark as well as get dressed in the dark, and the lack of coffee doesn’t bode well for the rest of the day, either. I was correct about being tired when I got off work and ran my errands; I was incorrect about traffic on the way to run my errands. 10 was backed up the worst I’d ever seen it, but this was due to an accident and not just heavy traffic. Once I got past the accident–it was in the center lane, just past the Orleans Avenue on-and-off ramps–it was clear sailing all the way onto the ramp to Claiborne Avenue, and it was smooth and easy after that. I worked on a short story for a bit, cuddled with Sparky, and Paul and I watched a few episodes of Arrested Development before I went to bed without cleaning the kitchen; I’ll have to do that when I get home tonight. I also should do a load of laundry. Sigh, it never ends.

I was also deeply amused by all the white people (read: racist pieces of shit and who they voted for) bitching everywhere about the Super Bowl half-time show. I didn’t watch the game–I even got the final score wrong when I posted it yesterday morning (but that WAS the score when I checked with almost two minutes left in the game)–but discourse was everywhere yesterday morning. I read some of the explanations and deep-dives into the performance, and so I wanted to watch it for myself, so I did last night before I went to bed. Wow, white people, way to miss the point completely. I’m sorry the show was too smart for you, and it probably made you squirm a little bit. Guess what? That’s what art does. I watched twice–once for the visuals, and the second time with the captioning on so I could catch what he was saying–and yes, it was absolutely amazing, and if you hated it because you couldn’t understand it, and the imagery and symbolism was too much for you, that’s a you thing. I’ve never understood people who think they’ve learned all they need to know once they’ve finished school, you know? My views and opinions are always shifting and changing because of new information. But…I am also an artist, and I cannot imagine calcifying my brain if I want to keep on making new art? But it was an act of defiance, as well; a big middle-finger to the Felon-in-Chief, and it was also, for me, the first moment of pride I’ve felt in this country since the election. It was a motherfucking breath of fresh air in the midst of all the foul toxicity rammed down our throats since November, and gave me a bit of hope that somehow we’ll get through this mess–but there will be a reckoning. Just like Bush II’s second term, they’ve way overplayed their hand.

And incidentally, I wonder if the halftime show was “family friendly” enough for the Louisiana legislature? No crotches were grabbed, no twerking, and no thongs or bouncing breasts or anything. (I am sure they didn’t approve of it anyway.)

And sorry, Chiefs and Travis Kelce–everything he touches dies. Was it an honor to play in front of a man who constantly attacks your girlfriend publicly all the time? And afterwards? Did you still think it was an honor when he tweeted about her being booed during the game? You’ll never go wrong expecting a straight white man, even one of the so-called “good ones”, to disappoint you when they have a chance to be a stand-up guy, because they’ll cower and scrape and bow every time. How is Kelce any better than Ted Cruz? It really lowered him in my eyes, and when Taylor finally does leave him I won’t be surprised, or terribly disappointed. This is similar to Drew Brees working with the Family Research Council–you know, the homophobic racists? I never saw him the same way after that, either.

Travis is supposed to be one of the good ones. Amazing how low that bar for straight men is, isn’t it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Pay-the-Bills-Day Eve, and I will probably not be back until tomorrow morning, when I’ll have coffee.

Disco Nights (Rock-Freak)

Monday morning has rolled around and rather than regretting not getting more done this weekend I am simply going to be grateful for the rest, spending time with Paul and Sparky, and somehow managing to remain sane during these last days of the republic. Yes, yes, I know I am being overdramatic and am overreacting and need to calm down; how many times have I been told that (incorrectly every time, I would like to point out) over the course of my life by someone in an incredibly condescending way because it wouldn’t affect them so they didn’t have to care? It really does get old, you know. There was more stupidity this weekend, no doubt, but it’s nice to get away from every now and then.

I didn’t watch the Super Bowl, nor did I care too much, but when I checked the score last night with less than two minutes left in the game and the Eagles were up 40-14, I felt some satisfaction. I lived in Kansas and the Chiefs have been terrible for so long it’s nice to see them have success (like the Saints, Bengals, and Commanders), but…Patrick Mahomes’ trashy family; the Hunts (who own the team) are also garbage, the team name is offensive, so is the tomahawk chop (see also Florida State, Atlanta Braves), and they also have Harrison Butker, that horrible piece of shit kicker who hates everyone who’s not a straight white man. The Eagles? I love the city, I love Jalen Hurts (and what a great story for him, you know?), and one of my oldest and dearest friends lives there and is an Eagles fan–and she’s been ill; I know this will have made her very happy. Also: FOTUS was also clearly wanting the Chiefs to win…and everything he touches dies. 40-14? That wasn’t a loss, it was a humiliation. Remember when he showed up for the LSU at Alabama game in 2019? Alabama lost at home for the first time in like five or six years–and never once had the lead.

I’d definitely not want him rooting for my team, that’s for sure.

This isn’t going to be an easy week for one Gregalicious. I am behind on everything, am going to be super-busy at the office during the week, and am leaving early on Thursday to head up for Alabama. I will no doubt be exhausted when I get home on Saturday, but that’s okay. We then gear up for Carnival and jury duty, and finally can relax by the following weekend. I was very pleased to finish reading my book She Was Was No More (link to my substack review of it) this weekend, and now I think I will watch Les Diaboliques, and maybe rewatch Reflections of Murder (but not the Sharon Stone version from the late 1990s; which is a shame; she would be awesome as the mistress but the previews looked terrible). I worked on my short story for a bit yesterday, and hope to work on it some more this week as well as the book. I gave up on the short story I was writing, and pulled out another unfinished one that I think will work better.

We also watched more of Arrested Development last night, which we are loving. How did they not give Jessica Walter the Emmy for supporting actress for every season of this show? I’ve been a fan of hers since I was a kid and saw her in Clint Eastwood’s directorial debut, Play Misty for Me (the original Fatal Attraction), and of course loved her voice work on Archer.

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

Time Passages

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and it’s Super Bowl Eve; aka a mere forty-eight hours or so before New Orleans gets back to what usually passes for normal around here. Sparky got me up early this morning, but after a sluggish start I did get up and now, after my first cup of coffee, am starting to wake up. I did sleep well again last night, which was lovely–it’s always lovely to sleep on freshly laundered bedding–and after I finished my remote work duties yesterday, spent the rest of the doing more cleaning and organizing and did some writing. This morning I have some things to do around here as far as cleaning and organizing are concerned, and a couple of errands to do this afternoon, and then it’s back to the safety of the Lost Apartment for the rest of this Super Bowl weekend. I have literally zero interest in the Super Bowl; the removal of the end racism from the end zones by the NFL–an organization that makes the majority of its money off the bodies of Black athletes–is the kind of capitulation to tyranny one can expect from the ultra-rich. They’re getting their tax cuts, and their money is more important to them than anything else. I think that an oligarchy was always a danger to a capitalist system; the great irony is that was the preachings of false prophet and disgusting hypocrite Ayn Rand; it is impossible for ethical conduct in a country that prioritizes the dollar above all else. Capitalism has even infected Christianity, but that religion has been a rotting hulk for centuries already by prioritizing political and earthly power over spiritual.

It really is lovely having a working garbage disposal and a clean apartment; Paul and I even talked about how weird it is that such a little thing makes such a difference. The plumber also fixed the sinks so they drain properly and repaired the bathtub faucet so it no longer leaks, and just those little changes make such a huge difference. My kitchen is galley style, so counter space can be pretty limited, with the Keurig, the microwave, and my computer printer on the counters. The garbage disposal not working also meant the dishwasher didn’t drain, so I couldn’t use it–nor could I let anything go down the drain with the disposal because it would wind up backing up into the dishwasher. So, I needed counter space for the dishes to dry, and I needed to fill a stockpot with hot water to rinse the soap off them when I washed the dishes, cutting down on counter space because I had to put a beach towel down for them to dry on. This snowballed, made me feel like the apartment was getting smaller and closing in, and that it was pointless to even try to keep the house neat because it didn’t take very much for it to look like a disaster.

But finally–we’re getting it back together and it feels quite marvelous, in all honesty, to come downstairs to a clean, empty sink and nothing on the counters.

It’s been in the upper seventies/low eighties this entire week–which says everything about New Orleans weather; just a few weeks ago we had a blizzard and the city shut down for like three days–but here we are, having great weather for all the tourists here for the Super Bowl, which I am not going to watch. We did watch LSU Gymnastics defeat Alabama last night, and after that we watched this week’s Prime Target, which we are really enjoying–but we should have waited until we could binge it, as my short term memory problems mean I easily lose the plot thread from week to week. I hate losing my short term memory like this, but what else am I going to do but deal with it and come up with work-arounds? (LOL, I am realizing now that I have anxiety medications that my life has always been about finding work-arounds!) But I am feeling better these days, and here’s hoping that will continue as we move forward and despite the dumpster fire the country is gradually turning into. Thanks again, MAGA voters! But today I am going to clean and write and run my errands and try to finish reading my book and get things checked off my to-do list. I’m hoping for a good day, like yesterday was, and I don’t think that’s a whole lot to ask, you know?

And now I am taking my coffee and my peanut butter toast to the easy chair to read for a couple of hours. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back, either later or tomorrow.

Got to Be Real

Work at home Friday, and I have two on-line meetings today and some simple quality assurance and trainings to do. Woo-hoo! Yesterday wasn’t too bad, despite me being so damned tired. I was exhausted by the end of the day, as I suspected I would be, but I wasn’t crabby from being tired, either. I took I-10 home (I’ve been doing that lately and despite the traffic back up on the ramp to 90 and the bridge, it’s been fine) and dragged myself inside where i promptly let Sparky climb me and ride on my shoulders while purring and rubbing his head against my face (which does get awkward as I change out of my work drag), which is lovely. I did come home to a NEW garbage disposal; did I mention yesterday that we cleaned Wednesday night because, well, the house was a disaster area to the point we didn’t want our plumber–who’s been our plumber for over twenty years now–to see it? It was nice to come home to a clean apartment, just as it was nice to get up to one yesterday (and this) morning. I’ve really let the house get out of control, and I feel like now that we’ve got this deep start on it, it’ll be easier to finish what’s left and then maintain it. High hopes, y’all, I got high hopes again on a micro personal level. I even made a to-do list for the weekend. I know, right? Who am I and what have I done with Gregalicious?

And there are few things I love more than cleaning and writing at the same time. It’s a sickness, I know. But it is my happy place. I actually daydreamed last night as I caught up on the End Times (which is what I call the news now) about how much better my life will be with a working garbage disposal again and realized, with not even a pang, that I actually like being able to find so much happiness is getting a household appliance operating again. That will dramatically help keep the kitchen clean (see? I really went deep down that rabbit hole), because it means I can also use the dishwasher again (I don’t understand this, but I don’t need to–it just is) which means…washing dirty dishes off and loading them into the dishwasher to run once it becomes full. It’s weird how things like that please me, make me feel contented, and settled. Paul and I did talk about that a bit (before I finished watching the reunions of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City); that since the world is being such a dumpster fire and every day brings a new barrage on our intellects and senses, what need to do is go back to thinking about the apartment the way we did when we were able to move back in after Katrina–our safe space, a comfortable and quiet place where we can get away from the insanity and shut the outside world off and withdraw into a bubble. Our haven, as it were. And even now, with things still needing to be worked on and put away or taken to the dumpster, it looks so nice and clean and different, so better, than it has in a long time and I’m so pleased.

And with the Super Bowl this weekend, who wants to leave the house? No thank you. I’ll go uptown to run some errands, but downtown? No fucking thank you. I don’t want to be around crowds unless catching beads is involved. I think there’s a Super Bowl parade today for the visitors, but…I don’t know. I’m glad they get a taste of what our parades are like, but it’s still not quite the same as standing on the sidewalks of St. Charles Avenue on a crisply warm evening with the sky so dark blue it’s black, the glow of streetlights casting flickering shadows as people dance to the music of a marching band and wave their hands in the air while masked riders toss some beads to the waiting gleeful celebrating hordes of the unwashed1.

I also want to get my email inbox cleared out. I also think I need to send some emails to people I’ve not touched base with in a while. Not to worry, I still intend to spend most of my time in isolation like an anchorite (which would be a good title, wouldn’t it? Anchorite, by Greg Herren. I actually like the sound of that), but it doesn’t hurt to have contact with people that I do actually like and care about. Make sure they’re still alive, you know? I still need to get some things worked out within my life and my schedule and the barely contained or controlled chaos of my existence. I’ve got to get this exercise thing back into swing, and I need to start working on trying to eat a bit more healthier. I hope to finish reading She Who Was No More this weekend, and then I am going to get to pick out another new read. I also get to pick out something to listen to in the car on the way to and from Alabama next weekend (not sure how much I’ll be posting from up there, but it’s only a quick trip and back. I am very grateful I live that close to where we’re from; I could not make trips to Kentucky with great regularity), but I always like something Gothic and fun in the car. I know I’ve got a lot of titles built up on Audible; I’ll have to look through and see what sounds fun.

Look at me, making plans and shit, looking forward to a future. I guess there’s no point in letting myself burn down with the rest of the world. I got up earlier than usual this morning (before seven; Sparky was hungry and would not be denied) and I feel pretty good, to be honest. My coffee is going down well, I feel rested and alert, and here’s hoping I’m going to have a great day.

And on that optimistic note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; if not, tomorrow morning.

Gorgeous young Spanish actor/singer Manu Rios. I’ve had a crush on him since he played chaos gay Patrick on Elite.
  1. I count myself as one of the unwashed; I’ve never ridden and I don’t think I would ever want to. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ve never really wanted to belong to a krewe and go to a ball and ride in a parade. ↩︎

I Just Fall in Love Again

Thursday morning and my last day in the office this week, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. I was tired yesterday, but I did get some writing done last night. I finished the revision of the chapter, and now have two more to get done before I can right the next third. It’s going to need to be gone over again, but not right now. It also kind of felt good to be writing it again, and last night was the most I’ve done in a sitting on this book since before the blizzard disruption/distraction. The blizzard was actually rather magical, perhaps the best thing that’s happened this year, and it really was nice going into that bubble for those days–tuning out and just chilling in the cozy snug warmth of the inside while it was bitterly cold outside. Every time I looked out my windows I was captivated by it, seeing it swirling and twirling in such vast amounts with just the ancient glass separating me from the chill outside. Next weekend I am going up to Alabama to meet Dad; its been two years now, wow. That’ll be yet another distraction, and then it’s Carnival and jury duty. Jesús Cristo! That’s a jam-packed month, isn’t it?

I’ve also got to do my part in the ongoing fight against this illegitimate regime, so I need to take down time and rest when I can, all the while writing a book and working full-time. I’m really not the brightest, am I? And this is me slowed way down. I was thinking the other night that I want to finish at least two more books this year; which is kind of insane? I don’t know. I used to do three or four per year, I think. I definitely don’t think that is possible for me anymore. But at least I am thinking in terms of writing again, which up until recently boiled down to I probably should write today and then not doing it. I think that my mind isn’t as creative anymore when I am not actively writing, and so when I am writing the floodgates in my mind open and suddenly I am getting ideas about future projects and stories and essays and…you see how it works around here.

I barely slept at all last night, drifting in and out of a shallow state for the entire night. I feel rested physically, but also a little like I am operating in accessory and draining my batteries by the minute. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s how I feel. I am going to be very tired this afternoon when I get off work, and fortunately I have no errands to run that cannot wait until the morrow. I did pick up my copy of the new William Boyle on the way home from the office yesterday, and I am hoping that tonight I’ll at least have enough focus to read some more of my book, which I want to finish by the end of the weekend if not sooner. I am still not feeling tired yet, but I know that’s going to land on me like a ton of bricks this afternoon to the point where I will be so tired I am almost in tears. I hate feeling that way, but the plumber is also coming to the apartment today (Paul’s working remotely) to fix the bathroom shower and the garbage disposal, so I can start using the dishwasher again, which will save me some time every day and free up counter space. Huzzah! I think I’m going to work on the kitchen some more this weekend, try to make it more efficient and easier to use.

I know I want to wash the car this weekend for sure.

Oh, and Idaho has petitioned the Supreme Court to overturn Obergefell and overturn same-sex marriage. Hmmm, where’s all that fucking trash that told me repeatedly I was “overreacting” and “no one’s coming for gay marriage.” Fuck off forever and drink some bleach with some ground glass added to it, garbage people. Gargle it before you swallow, while you’re at it. I am so tired of being told that fighting for my rights and those of my community aren’t as “important” and to “be patient for a little longer” while those courting our votes don’t lift a fucking finger.

But it’s also the Super Bowl this weekend, and while I am doing my best to avoid the whole thing–the National Guard is out, and I really do not like living in a military zone, with armed soldiers and tanks out and about–it’s kind of hard to avoid it completely. It’s definitely affected my drive home from work, as I can’t go the way I usually go because its inside The Superdome Military Zone and streets are blocked off; they’re even closing New Orleans air space around and during the game. I think they did this the last time the Super Bowl was here, too…but it was like ten years ago and I don’t really remember. I do remember the post 9/11 one, and it was much the same as this. I don’t remember armed soldiers and tanks last time, though.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. It’s also cool but humid, which means cool temperatures but it feels clammy, blech. I’ll be back tomorrow, most likely, and I’ll talk to you again!

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Shine a Little Love

Wednesday morning madness, but the week is half over and we are sliding down into the weekend, which is kind of nice and cool, honestly. It does seem like this week is taking forever to finish, though. I was tired when I got home last night, but managed to get a little over a thousand words done on the book, which was nice if painful and painstaking. But I am getting back into the writing habit again, and the muscles are rusty and tired and complaining, but…I always complain, don’t I? Ah, well. I am writing again and making progress on the book and isn’t that the most important thing? I’d like to get at least one more book written this year, if I can, and the only way to do that is plant ass in chair and start typing every day, even if it’s not a whole lot getting done. Something is better than nothing. I’m going to run some errands tonight after work again–it seems like I’ve been running errands every night after work for the last week or so–but after tonight I don’t think I’ll run any until the weekend again.

Fascinating, right?

I do find it interesting that in the wake of a terrorist attack and with the Super Bowl this weekend (and FOTUS being in town for it) that this is the week the FBI decided to replace the special agent in charge of the New Orleans office. Strange, isn’t it? I know I won’t be leaving the house all weekend, that’s for sure, especially now that we have Kristi “I Shot My Kid’s Puppy In The Face” Noem in charge of national security…it also occurred to me last night that since we’re following the Nazi playbook now, is it too much of a stretch to think her incompetence is precisely why she was appointed? Do you think she or her foul lord and master would pay any attention to a memo (not that their FBI or CIA would produce any such memo) reading SO AND SO DETERMINE TO STRIKE INSIDE THE US? George W and his gang of monsters certainly didn’t. And wouldn’t a big terrorist attack justify martial law, suspension of everything, and invasions all over the world in the name of “national security?” Kind of like 9/11?

Everything old is new again.

It’s also very easy, when you’re marginalized, to go where you feel welcomed. I voted Left even when the Democrats were not doing anything for the queers, and weren’t much better than the Right because they were the only alternative. (My conscience will never allow me to vote for a Republican; in any race where there’s only Republicans running I do not vote.) I didn’t have a high opinion of the Democrats during the 1980s; they were all too happy to let us die from HIV/AIDS as much as their right-wing brethren were–but they weren’t laughing about letting us die, either. But their support was always lukewarm, and they really weren’t willing to fight for us–hence all our advances had to come through the courts (an option we no longer have, thanks to protest votes in 2016–and we learned nothing from that, or from when it popped up the first time in 2000). The courts are geared up now to take all of those advances away again–I really thought I’d never have to keep fighting for my rights as a senior citizens but I will be damned if I let that fucking trash win. So, I’m gearing up for another fight–one that will only end in my death or victory–which is why we have to reserve our strength, protect our mental well-being, and tag out when it’s necessary without guilt.

I also noticed yesterday that this illegal regime decided to erase trans people from existing on government websites; references to the “LGBTQ+ community” became the “LGB community.” Oh, uh uh, no way, no fucking how. I know there are queers in this community who are transphobes…and I think they are just as vile and disgusting as the MAGA ones. There’s one of those groups in the UK, I think; you’d think people who’ve been marginalized their entire lives would be more open-minded and understanding? But…there are racist gays, and there are misogynist gays–clinging to their whiteness or their masculine privilege rather than recognizing and fighting the true oppressors–straight white men and their awful wives. I remember back when I was on the board of directors for the National Stonewall Democrats, and the House had the votes to pass ENDA…if they removed the transgender community from its protections. White gay men screamed about ENDA and how the trans community wasn’t worth losing ENDA for everyone else, and “we could always add them later!” No, nope, nuh uh, not having it, and we wouldn’t. We came out strongly against it (branding it SPLENDA or ENDA-lite) refusing to send our trans siblings under the bus for political gain. I was furious; how was I supposed to explain that to trans people? “We got ours, now we’ll TRY to get yours.” The trans community felt hurt and betrayed, and who could blame them? I was willing to leave the party over it, and I am just as willing to walk out of anything that targets MY community. MY queer community is strong and beautiful and marvelous, and wouldn’t be without every goddamned color in our rainbow.

I will never cut my conscience to fit whatever this year’s fashions are.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have as good a day as you can, Constant Reader, and take breaks to breathe and re-center yourself whenever you need to. It’s going to be a long, hard, ugly fight–but worth every second of it.

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