Thursday, and as always, my last day in the office this week. I was a bit tired yesterday after work, and so didn’t run an errand I’d planned, pushing it off till today–and I am not entirely certain I am not going to simply order things on-line and be done with it. I feel good this morning, but who knows how long that will last before I hit my Thursday wall? Last week, I wasn’t tired on Thursday when I got home; will I be lucky two weeks in a row? We’ll have to see. After I got home last night, I got into my easy chair and caught up on the news and The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, and was back watching news while I fell asleep in my easy chair. Paul had a board meeting last night, so Sparky and I were on our own, and he did NOT encourage me to get up and do things. Such a bad influence, really.
There was some interesting news here yesterday–a controversial Mardi Gras krewe’s founder was arrested. I shouldn’t mention this without knowing any of the details, but obviously as a New Orleans crime writer a bogus Mardi Gras krewe with an arrested founder could be very interesting. More on that later, as I am going to read up on the news reports about what is going on with this. I think it’s the Krewe of Mystic Kings, is/was going to roll on January 5th or 6th, and is something our city council president called a scam. Yeah, I am sure there’s a germ of a book in that story, don’t you? I have any number of Carnival crime stories I would love to write.
And where has December gone? How is it the eleventh already, with Christmas a mere two weeks from today? And New Year’s is three? 2025 hasn’t been the best of years, seriously, but I am not going to celebrate the end of a shitty year because inevitably the following year is even worse. Who knows what fresh horror awaits us in 2026? A depression and economic collapse, perhaps? Heavy heaving sigh. I suppose that also means if I don’t get my Christmas cards done this weekend they won’t get done. The suspense!
But I have some plans for the weekend, and I need to update my to-do list. I want to finish reading Postman, I need to write at least one newsletter, and I need to start some writing on Chlorine. I also need to outline it, do character studies, and build my Hollywood world of the 1950s and its gay underground. I also want to start taking boxes out of the attic and getting rid of more things. (As you can tell, I am now fully awake–thank you, coffee–and am raring to go.) It’s nice to be excited about writing again–it’s nice to be excited about life again, despite the world burning to the ground on the daily. It’s just so nice not to be tired all the time anymore, you know? Fatigue is absolutely real, and horrible to experience. I also have labs ordered for tomorrow morning, so I need to be up and at Quest at eight thirty tomorrow morning, which is fine. Right now, I have changed my mind and will make groceries on the way home tonight…but it will really depend on how I feel. I’m by myself in the clinic today and we’re pretty busy, so like yesterday, I may be drained and tired when I get off work. At least the grocery store is on the way home, you know?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a happy Thursday, Constant Reader, and remember–there are only fourteen shopping days left until Christmas!
Wednesday morning and how is everything with you, Constant Reader? I can’t complain, but I really didn’t want to get out of the comfort of the warm bed and my pile of blankets this morning. It was so nice and relaxing and comfortable! And when you have your sweet kitty check on you then curl up and cuddle and purr–yeah, who wouldn’t want to stay in bed? Yesterday was an okay day for the most part. I wasn’t tired, and I had help in the clinic, which I don’t today and tomorrow. Heavy sigh. But I’ll manage to power through. I am pretty caught up on my work and current on everything, so I just have to maintain that status through the end of the week. Sigh. It’s so nice to not be exhausted all the time, you know?
The interesting thing about ICE being here with their Gestapo-like tactics and antics is most of what they are doing is focused on the conservative suburbs outside of New Orleans, in Jefferson Parish–mostly in Kenner and Metairie, and they aren’t getting the kind of welcome they would have expected in MAGA territory. This irony–all the MAGAts and racists who were so absolutely delighted that New Orleans, that bastion of crime and danger to white people, was getting ICEd, only to have them focus on the so-called “safe” suburbs when they got here–is almost too delicious to bear. Of course, if people were posting about ICE in Metairie and Kenner, most Americans wouldn’t have a clue where they were talking about, so as always New Orleans is used as shorthand because everyone knows New Orleans (another bitter pill for the suburban racist trash to swallow).
As always, the quote is “Bitch, you live in Metairie.”
I was reminded yesterday that I wrote the introduction to two omnibus collections of gay crime writer’s first three novels, and the two authors were Michael Nava (!!! It was SUCH an honor!) and Michael Craft (both a delightful person and a delightful writer) way back in the early aughts; my first published essays, as it were. I’d completely forgotten about them, and the only reason I remembered was I got a google alert that a used copy of the Nava omnibus had been listed on The Strand’s website. I know I had a copy of each volume (at one point I had copies of all the Violet Classics, or whatever they called that series), because David Rosen at Insightoutbooks (which I miss to this day) sent them to me as a gift. My, that was a long time ago, and I got paid really well for those introductory essays. I was tempted to buy it, even to the point of getting my credit card out of my wallet and…just before I started the purchase process, thought better of it and closed the site. I don’t need to spend money on something I may already have a copy of; if I don’t have it or can’t find it, I can always go looking again for it on-line, of course, so long as I make a note to keep track and don’t forget about them, like I had for like at least fifteen years.
Sigh.
But my coffee is tasty this morning, the apartment is warm and comfortable, and today won’t be anything I can’t handle. I did do the dishes last night and ran the dishwasher before going up to bed, so I am almost caught up on chores other than, you know, keeping it clean as I go (ugh, McDonalds flashback), which will make the weekend easier. Yay! It makes such a difference not being tired every night when I get home from work. I still bond with Sparky when I get home from work (after feeding His Majesty) while I am catching up on the day’s news, but now I don’t get sucked in because I am so tired I don’t want to get back up…and I am motivated, which is even better, you know?
Last night we watched two more episodes of Death by Lightning, which I am enjoying. I love US History (history in general, really) and the murder of President Garfield was another one of those “what if” moments in American history; what kind of president would he have been, and how different would things have turned out had he not died and been succeeded by his vice president, Chester Arthur, is a question we’ll never know the answer to. The show is very well done and very well acted, and we now have just one more episode to finish it off, probably tonight. This period, and this assassination, have really been lost to time–who, outside of historians and history buffs–even remember that Garfield was president in the first place?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning.
We haven‘t had a tree since Skittle died. Skittle would knock off an ornament and walk away. Scooter tried to climb it and eat the power cords. I shudder to think what Sparky would do to one.
Today’s title is one of my all-time favorite songs, by the Chicks (remember them? Pre-MAGA canceled them for opposing the Iraq War–and shock! It turned out the Chicks were right all along). It was also the song that gave me the idea for my short story “Unsent,” which is one of my personal favorites of my own stories.
Two days past eighteen, he was waiting for the bus in his army greens…
It always makes me choke up a bit, and their harmonies are just angelic on this song. Natalie Maines is one of the best singers of my lifetime, bar none.
Well, yesterday was a nice day. The chili I made on Sunday (and I thought was kind of bland) actually turned out to be much better on the second day, who knew? That was a pleasant surprise for me yesterday, which was a very good day overall. I got a lot done at the office, am caught up on almost everything, and came home. I unloaded the dishwasher and folded the clothes, and straightened up the kitchen. I also did some filing, which was cool. I am wide awake this morning, too, having only hit snooze once. Unusual, and Sparky was thrilled that he didn’t have to wait the usual cycle of snooze before I got up. I’ve been feeling better every day, which is awesome. I’m going to have lab work done on Friday morning this week, too, and I need to get my Christmas cards done at some point (if I am actually going to shock everyone by sending cards this year). I did start marking things off on my to-do list, too, which was pretty awesome, frankly. Yay, me!
We are still getting warm weather this week, but it’s been moved to the weekend; Friday and Saturday it will be in the 70s, which will be a very good time for me to start taking walks again. I am serious about getting back into better physical condition (now that everything else seems to be finally clearing up), and as I mentioned before, I am thinking about starting back up at the gym again after Carnival. I don’t care about losing weight or building muscle or anything aesthetic-related; I am more concerned about building up my strength and stamina again. It’s so nice to feel good and not tired anymore, you know?
Or maybe I’m finally becoming a morning person? Perish the thought! But, it’s not a bad thing. It is very rare when I sleep in past eight here–gone are the days of sleeping till noon–but the rest I am getting now is much better than the last fourteen years or so. I also spent some time last night thinking about my new book project and am rather excited about it, to be perfectly honest. It’s been a hot minute since I started a new book project and wasn’t exhausted, sick, or recovering from something–I think the last one was Royal Street Reveillon, honestly–and so am kind of excited to see how this one goes, you know? There’s also an anthology I’d like to submit to, and the deadline is December 31st. It’s nice to feel excited about writing again, you know? (I’m also conveniently forgetting how hard writing actually is…) I also have some newsletters to finish, which should be fun, too. I have another couple of series of essays I want to do (along with the ones talking about masculinity and religion); Egypt and history and of course, juvenile series. This having a newsletter is a lot more fun than I ever thought it would be, you know?
Tonight after work I’ll head uptown to get the mail, and when I get home I need to do the dishes and reload the dishwasher. I may even vacuum tonight (madness) so this weekend won’t be so bad about keeping up with chores and cleaning. I’ll probably do some reading as well as my new project continues percolating in my head. I also need to answer some emails and need to get started on an editing project.
And on that cheery note, I am heading into the spice mines for now. Have a great Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, I promise.
So, this is another Monday in one of the last weeks of 2025. I slept well, and only hit snooze twice, which was unusual. I feel rested and good this morning, which is absolutely delightful. I didn’t get all my chores done over the weekend, so I’ll have to put away dishes and so forth when I get home from work this evening. I also have some dishes to wash and put through the dishwasher, too. Yesterday was a nice, lovely, relaxing day. I finished watching The American Revolution and New Orleans Soul of a City (the last one was about the Saints and the Superdome–so the series was food, music, Carnival, and the Saints; pretty much the soul of New Orleans). The college football play-off seedings were released, to the anger of several fan bases, and LSU is going to the Texas Bowl to play Houston in Houston. We also watched The Roses, which was interesting. I also spent a lot of time scanning journal pages into my computer so I can get all my notes over the years on Chlorine easily accessible and in one place. It’s chilly this morning, but the rest of the week (I think) will have highs in the 1970s.
ICE is here, sweeping the city with a goal of five thousand “criminals” to deport from the New Orleans area–and they are doing it so far with all the skill, efficiency, and Constitutional adherence they’ve shown everywhere else they’ve invaded with their Gestapo tactics. The reports so far seem to have netted only thirty-eight arrests, a third of whom had criminal records (odds they’ll be here through Carnival?), and they seem to have primarily focused on the immigrant community in Kenner, the suburb with the airport and the last one before you hit swamp heading west on I-10. A friendly reminder, that always needs to be mentioned, that immigrants rebuilt the city after Katrina. That’s why New Orleans was a sanctuary city: gratitude, which always seems to be in such short supply in the American psyche. I’ve been blocking the racist trash from the outer parishes and “metro area” who always claim to be from New Orleans but never are, who show up with their hateful bullshit on social media. I drove one bitch all the way off Threads recently, who pulled the I live in New Orleans which then became I’m from New Orleans to I was born in New Orleans but a quick search of her social media (wide open, I might add) showed she actually lives in ALABAMA, like the lying piece of racist trash she was, and that her husband worked for a government contractor. When I asked her how her husband’s employer would react to her being a racist lying piece of shit on-line, POOF. She was gone.
Keep New Orleans out of your disgusting, filthy, lying racist-ass mouths–and if you’re going to be such a troll on-line, don’t use your real name and leave all of your social media open. They’re rarely smart, you know?
And for the record, racist skanks in the burbs, New Orleans has always had crime; it’s a port fucking city. The history of this city is drenched in blood spilled by violence. Y’all fled the city after integration. Fuck ALL the way off.
Nothing makes my blood boil more than non-New Orleanians complaining about New Orleans. Begone! You have no power here!
But as always, going through the journals to scan my notes from Chlorine (I actually found the very first time I wrote the idea down, which was kind of cool) was revelatory; I really need to go through my journals more regularly to remind myself what is in there. There are some terrific ideas for short stories and essays in there, as well as notes on multiple projects that are still unfinished. As I was saying yesterday, my journals are far more informative about my writing process than anything in the files, so I think one of my projects for the rest of December is to ditch a lot of my files and get everything compressed into the filing cabinet. I also need to prune the books some more, and start clearing out the storage attic, and take everything off the tops of the kitchen cabinets (I literally have boxes of books everywhere).
And then there’s that moment when Carl Hiaasen shares your newsletter post reviewing hid book Fever Beach–yes, I still fanboy all the time. Eeee! (And it’s getting lots of likes and shares, which is really cool and was never the point of the review!)
And so, without anymore delays, I am heading into the spice mines this morning. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on Tuesday morning!
The river parishes light bonfires on the levees to direct Papa Noel, an incredibly cool Louisiana tradition. They feature prominently in Ellen Byron’s mystery A Cajun Country Christmas.
Monday morning and back to the spice mines with me this morning.
Well, the office, at any rate.
It’s very chilly in the Lost Apartment on this first day of December, which also means it’s the start of my Noirmas Season project. Huzzah!1 I also slept deeply and well yesterday, after a day of rest and not really doing a lot. I was very low-energy yesterday, which didn’t surprise me. I’ve always been tired the day after driving home from Kentucky, which is why I always have given myself a free day before I have to go back to the office. So being low-energy wasn’t a “still not well completely” reaction, but rather a normal one, which was an enormous relief. Sparky was also very needy all day yesterday, sleeping in my lap or insisting I go sit in my chair to provide a lap for him–he’s so sweet. He was kind of distant at first when I got home, too, but eventually forgave me and starting showering me with attention. But yes, I spent most of yesterday in my easy chair too tired to read, and watching news videos and getting caught up on everything I’d missed while on that Internet sabbatical I took. I had to clean out an unbelievable amount of emails, and I also have a lot to read and respond to at some point this week.
The coaching carousel finally stopped spinning yesterday, with Tulane’s coach going to Florida and a directional Florida university’s coach going to Auburn, with the big story of the day being Lane Kiffin deciding to leave Mississippi in the lurch and come to LSU. (Mississippi elevated their defensive coordinator to head coach–not interim, but head coach.) There was a lot of negativity about this, as there should have been. He is leaving his team with a 11-1 record and a play-off birth, so their fans are pretty bitter and angry2. Mississippi hasn’t had a shot at contending for a national title since at least 2003, and they made the 12 team play-offs before LSU, which no one would have thought possible as recently as five years ago. I’m ambivalent about the whole situation, to be honest. Mississippi fans have a right to be angry and they also have a right to hate him; he left them in the lurch before the play-offs to go to an archenemy. LSU-Mississippi is a trophy game every year, and they hate us and have for decades. The difference between this hire and the Brian Kelly hire back in 2021 is that Louisiana seems to have instantly embraced Kiffin, whereas Kelly was never completely accepted, and even after winning the division in his first season–a good start–LSU never saw that level of success again. I’m willing to give Kiffin a chance, just as I was willing to give Kelly (someone I didn’t like or respect) a chance. He did a great job at Mississippi–not an easy task–and three consecutive ten win seasons there is nothing to sneeze at. LSU is a brand (more on that later) much more so than Mississippi, with no disrespect intended; it’s just a fact. An undefeated LSU team, for example, will always be ranked higher than an undefeated Mississippi team–which is completely unfair–but that’s how this all seems to work these days. (Miami and Notre Dame, for example, have the same record but Notre Dame is ranked higher–and Miami beat Notre Dame. Your guess is as good as mine.)
Yesterday morning I finished listening to Fever Beach, and have lots of thoughts about it. It reminded just how important it actually is for funny writers to use their talents to skewer and satirize politicians and the state of the country. I have wondered myself about how much of the current world situation I should put into my Scotty books, and if so, how to handle it. My readers, of course, probably are more left than right; I cannot imagine how anyone could read that series and believe Scotty and his family are conservatives. I don’t remember if Fever Beach was considered controversial when it was published, and once it got started I wasn’t sure how I felt about it and the approach he was taking, but once I started laughing out loud (which happened quite a few times while listening) and got into the spirit of the thing. Mocking them is really the best way to handle them–and really, we should have never stopped calling them weird last summer.
We also finished watching the John Wayne Gacy series, Devil in Disguise, which was incredibly well done. I appreciated the focus on the families and loved ones on the victims, along with the trial stuff and backstory. This, Ryan Murphy, is how you do a serial killer mini-series. You don’t glamourize the killer. We then watched a documentary called The Carman Family Murders, which was interesting, sad, and horrifying all at the same time. (I think we’re going to make Sundays our “true crime documentary” nights.)
Tonight after work I need to make some groceries and order some to be delivered (or maybe I can order them all for delivery? Hmmm). I need to put the dishes away and finish the load of laundry I started last night (fluff and fold is all that’s left to do). I need to clean out my inbox and start thinking more about working on Chlorine. I also got the edits for new Scotty I have to get done, and I have another chore to do as well.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow!
Note to self: find my copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice tonight. ↩︎
Again, who can blame them? There are people in Louisiana who’ve never forgiven Nick Saban for returning to college football at Alabama. ↩︎
I got here last night sometime between seven-thirty and eight; I don’t remember exactly what time I left Kentucky. I was also adventurous and broke tradition by coming home a different way than I have every time I’ve driven back since my parents moved up there. This actually is a big deal; I used to have a lot of anxiety when I drove–I don’t know why the thought of missing a turn or getting lost has always wound me tighter than a drum, but I guess it was the anxiety. But I was relaxed all the way up there, and I was relaxed all the way back, which was nice. I wasn’t even tired when I got there Tuesday night, either; I think the anxiety used to wear me out. I was tired when I got home last night, though; so I guess I did have a bit of it because I didn’t know where I was going. This time, I took the Cumberland Parkway across Kentucky to I-65 and came down through Nashville rather than Chattanooga. It was a very nice drive, and I don’t think I’ll have anxiety the next time I come that way.
It was also nice to unplug from the world. I only checked email to delete junk, and I think I answered one email–from my editor–on Tuesday while I was on the road. I have no idea what it going on in the country and the world, and I’m not really sure I want to get caught up, either. I do have some things I need to do today–our grocery situation is kind of dire–and some laundry and chores, and I don’t think I am going to attempt to do any kind of writing today–maybe in my journal. I listened to Laurie R. King’s superb O Jerusalem on the way up, and to Carl Hiaasen’s Fever Beach on the way back; which I have about an hour left to finish–it’s excellent and hilarious and thought-provoking, and there will definitely be more about both audiobooks in the newsletter, and relatively soon (I hope) at that. I didn’t listen to my Donna Andrews Christmas audiobook because I didn’t finish the Meg Langslow book I’d started last weekend. I will finish reading A Flock and a Hard Place this week, but am not sure when I’ll be able to get to the audiobook. I think I had decided to make December “Noirmas Season,” so I am going to try to get some noir read or revisited this next month, probably starting with The Postman Always Rings Twice, because it’s been a hot minute and what better way to kick off Noirmas Season than with the master? I also have some television to catch up on, too.
But the apartment is in pretty good shape, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting back on track this morning, huzzah! I have email inboxes to clean out (my email tab shows over 110 this morning; it’s not freaking me out the way it would have before, but still). I did watch the end of Alabama-Auburn last night when I got home, which was a much better game than I was expecting. I was driving and missed LSU-Oklahoma, which turned out to be a better game than I was expecting in the first place. Most of the teams I was rooting for over the “rivalry weekend” lost, which was disappointing, but they were mostly good games. I am really not interested in the post-season, but will watch LSU’s bowl game if they go to one, thus freeing up my Saturdays going forward. I am a bit better about not being glued to my easy chair every Saturday, too. The anxiety medication has apparently also removed my fear of missing out, which is really nice.
I’m really glad I went, to be honest. It was nice seeing all of my extended immediate family again–I have some really good-looking and smart grand-nieces and nephews (sigh)–and I enjoy spending time with Dad. I am learning a lot about the family history from him, and it’s nice hearing about what things were like for him and Mom when they first started dating and their early married life. And not being fatigued and worn out by driving twelve hours twice within a five day period the way I would have been before is also good to know. I’ve been feeling a lot better these last few weeks, in all honesty, and I think not being tired after work until Thursday night is a VAST improvement. I was getting kind of worried that the fatigue and lack of energy was my new normal, which was concerning but there was no point in even worrying about it because it was beyond my control. I do think I am going to start working on my physical condition a bit more going ahead, like going back to the gym and getting into better shape. What’s with the crazy talk, amirite?
And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. Hope you had a marvelous holiday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back either later today (stranger things have happened, you know) with another entry or a newsletter or maybe…nothing at all until tomorrow morning.
The Roman Emperor Hadrian’s lover, Antinoüs, depicted as the Egyptian god Osiris
That may be the name of the song, but I always thought it was “poke salad,” because you used pokeweed to make it. But I’ve also always had hearing issues, and have misheard (and mis-said) things almost my entire life before learning how wrong they were! The funny thing is, before the hearing aids, I was kind of ashamed of being unable to hear so I would never ask someone to repeat themselves; now that I have them, I have no problem with that? Strange, isn’t it?
I have to pack tonight when I get home because I want to get an early start tomorrow morning. I don’t like driving after dark, and with the time change it’ll start getting dark between four and five, and I lose a time zone hour once I cross the Georgia state line for a brief moment before catching I-75 in Chattanooga. I hope to sleep well again tonight, since the drive will most likely be exhausting. This is my first lengthy drive since being sick, and so I guess it will be indicative of how my recovery is going, won’t it? Plus, leaving early might help with traffic along the way. I can even load the car for the most part this evening as well, which is cool. I don’t know how much I will be here while I am up north this week, so bear with me; you may not see me again until this coming Sunday morning. I will miss the games on Sunday, but I can always check scores on my phone and I may get home in time to catch the tail end of Auburn-Alabama. LSU is at Oklahoma, so who knows how that will go and which team will show up in Norman. I don’t have a lot of confidence or hope in a team that just beat Western Kentucky by only three points at HOME. (It was actually kind of sad, especially for Senior Night. What a disaster this season turned out to be for my Tigers. Sigh. But I said they were overrated at the beginning of the season and guess what? I was right.)
I spent some time yesterday going through my journals to mark pages with Chlorine notes, and there were a lot. I only got through about five of them, but there was a lot of interesting notes and information and ideas for the story, and for the main character’s back story. I know, I know, I’ve been threatening to write this book for almost a decade, but one of the things I came to realize yesterday looking at the journals is how erratic my creative mind is and how all-over-the-map it can be. My journals serve many purposes; I like to write long-handed, for one thing, and somehow the mind-hand connection frees my mind to wander and create free-style, and it always works. It’s also kind of interesting to see how past novels and stories have developed. Sometimes I’ll write a story or a chapter fragment in long hand; the long hand freestyle thing has always worked for whenever I am stuck on something. I also learned a lot going through the journals looking for Chlorine notes; both story and character and situations. I also realized yesterday that the reason I’ve never really worked on it seriously was because I was very tied to that opening scene, and the original story I developed; but now I have realized that there was an enormous hole in the plot that cannot really be fixed without revising and rewriting the entire first three chapters, which I’ve been trying to fix and polish for years when it couldn’t be fixed; spending some time immersing myself in the book, by writing in my journal, has opened the entire thing up for me and I think I should be more than ready to get a first draft done by the end of the year. I’m actually excited, rather than intimidated, about writing it! I think feeling better physically, emotionally, and mentally has helped a lot, too. I spent a lot of time these past few years thinking that I might retire from writing…nah, I just wasn’t 100%!
I am also very excited to start listening to Laurie R. King’s O Jerusalem tomorrow in the car! It’s longer than the drive, so I am going to take the book with me to finish reading, along with my Donna Andrews novel to read while I am up there so I can listen to either her Christmas audiobook from last year, or A Letter of Mary by Laurie on the way home on Saturday. I am hoping to rest and relax and read and spend some nice time with Dad and my sister. It’ll be cold, of course, but I am not dreading it the way I usually do. I think I’ve finally made peace with colder weather? I blame this past January’s blizzard, really. It reminded me how nice it is to be safe and warm inside while the snow is coming down outside. Very, very cozy, and maybe the weather is kind of worth it for that kind of comfort? The older I get, the more I appreciate comfort. (Note to self: get new sheets.)
We watched some more of the final season of Solar Opposites, which I’m not enjoying as much as I did the earlier seasons…but I also watched them all in a binge, so was a lot more vested and it’s hard to get back into it after so long. It’s still insanely clever, though. We also watched Family Plan 2 so you don’t have to (the first one was cute and clever; the second went back to the well and it doesn’t play as well the second time around) and I have to ask again, how is Marky Mark a movie star? (I prefer to use his name from when he was a trouser-dropping “recording artist.”) He has no range at all, and all the promise he showed as a young actor in movies like Boogie Nights has been lost into a charmless “character” he plays over and over and over again, in action flick after action flick. Basically, he just shows up and cashes the paycheck. I do like Michelle Monaghan, though. It played while I was going through my journals; Paul kept falling asleep. Then we watched Devil in Disguise, and seriously? This is how serial killer mini-series or limited series or whatever they fuck they call them now should be done. Not glamorous, not visually beautiful, and the sexiness of the cast isn’t highlighted, but rather buried under period hair and clothing. The really get that 1970s accurately; it was almost triggering. I also liked that they aren’t glamourizing Gacy and are focusing, not just on him, but on selected victims and telling their stories along with his. (We had to stop watching the latest Ryan Murphy Monster season.)
I feel good this morning. I didn’t want to get up, but that wasn’t from wanting to sleep more, it was the warm comfort of the bed I didn’t want to leave. I am not tired or sore, and my hip joints feel pretty good, too. I am not in the clinic today, but I have an awful lot of things to get caught up on before I head home this afternoon, and a lot to do when I do get there, too. I’ll just have to avoid Sparky’s wiles and the lure of the easy chair–or remind myself to get up after resting and get it all done so I can leave tomorrow morning and not be concerned about coming home to a disaster area Saturday.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back before I leave tomorrow morning.
Sunday here in the Lost Apartment, and all is well. LSU won, 13-10, not a particularly impressive showing. (Tulane also won, GO WAVE!) The games yesterday weren’t exciting or interesting, so after Paul got up we alternated between games and other things (more on that later). It was a very nice relaxing day, over all. I did run some errands in the morning, but after I got home that was it; no more outside for me this weekend. It was actually in the 80s yesterday, too. I didn’t do much cleaning around here yesterday, either, and the kitchen is a total mess (because I made Shrimp Creole last night for dinner) which I will need to clean up at some point this morning. I also didn’t read much yesterday, either; something I need to rectify this morning. I mean, it is a real messy mess. Yikes.
I dropped off four boxes of books to the library sale yesterday morning, and yes, this pruning of the books had helped de-clutter the living room, and I also came across some books I’d forgotten that I had–juvenile mysteries, amongst other things–which was also kind of cool. I’m planning to do another round of pruning once I get back from the trip (but probably not next weekend; I’m going to spend Sunday recovering from the drive); progress! I also want to start working on the storage attic. I know, the non-stop rollercoaster thrill ride of my life is almost too much to read about, isn’t it?
But I came across copies from a juvenile series, Ken Holt, that I really loved when I was a kid (still one of my favorites; it’s a toss-up between this series and The Three Investigators) and while paging through one of the copies (The Secret of Hangman’s Inn) I remembered how incredibly homoerotic the series was, particularly the relationship between Ken and his best friend, Sandy Allen–they are often around each other in varying stages of undress, including nude, for one example–and often share rooms and beds. There’s definitely an essay for the newsletter about this series, its homoeroticism, and how well the books are actually written. They all have a hard-boiled, noir-ish aesthetic that I loved. They were shot at with real ammunition, had to outwit and out think criminals, and since they were journalists (despite being so young) Ken’s write-ups of their cases and Sandy’s photos often went into syndication. Not bad for a pair of eighteen-year-olds! I also think this series is why I kind of wanted to be a journalist when I first went to college–but that is also a story for another time.
I didn’t write anything on the computer yesterday, but I did spend a lot of time writing in my journal. I also went back and reread my current one from the start, picking up on notes and ideas and thoughts about several things I am working on. I came across some excellent notes for Chlorine, for example, and as I reread my notes (just from this journal) I recognized something–part of the problem I am having with writing further into the book is base premise that starts the book doesn’t really work or make sense; the stakes aren’t high enough for my main character to get involved to begin with, and so I have to amp them up, kill my darlings, and maybe start over. I get very stubborn about throwing stuff out that I’ve already written, but those chapters are salvageable, kind of; I may be able to use the bits and pieces, but I am going to dive into it, headfirst, in December with the goal of getting a first draft finished by the end of the year. Stubbornness about your work is not a good quality for an author to have.
I also got my contributor copy of Celluloid Crimes, which ironically has the short story I adapted from Chlorine’s first chapter, “The Last To See Him Alive,” which is still a good story and I do love that title an awful lot. It’s always nice to see your work in actual print in a book, you know?
Around the games we watched some of the skating from Cup of Finland, this week’s season finale of The Morning Show, and a lot of the news shows. I am still processing the Friday news; the bromance in the Oval with FOTUS basically rolling over on his back and showing Zohran Mamdani his belly, and it may take me a while longer to wrap my head around the devolution of the MAGA movement into fascism and Nazism with the embrace of Nick Fuentes, the gay Latino Nazi, which makes no sense to me but I’ve never understood people who lick the boots on their own throats.
I am also really enjoying Ken Burns’ The American Revolution, which at least is honest and doesn’t really get into any of the weird national mythology we’ve built up around our history–basically to erase any wrong-doing and eradicate any questioning of the endless justifications for stealing an entire continent from its inhabitants. The Americas weren’t discovered and colonized; they were actually conquered, in a mass genocide that lasted centuries. US History and the American Revolution were actually my gateways into my lifelong obsession and interest in history; watching this series is reminding me of how I went from US History to English history to European history, with some dabbling in the ancients (Egypt, Greece, Rome); I really should have majored in History, the primary problem being picking a particular period to specialize in. As I said the other day, I should have majored in History with a minor in creative writing, and I could have become a historian like Barbara Tuchman; her A Distant Mirror remains one of my favorite histories and served as an inspiration for my idea to write a popular history of the sixteenth by focusing on women holding power…that century remains an outlier in Europe when it comes to powerful women and queens. I am probably going to write an essay about my interest in US History, and one about my interest in ancient Egypt.
And on that note, I am going to take my coffee into the living room to see if any more news has broken since I went to bed last night, after which I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.
It was cold here yesterday, but we didn’t get any snow, more’s the pity. I actually enjoyed the snow days we had earlier this year; it was so weird and beautiful, and the way it made the city look was also strangely gorgeous. I screen-shot or grabbed so many pictures of it from all over the Internet…I am even thinking about setting a Scotty during the snow (Bayou Blizzard Boogie, which is an extremely fun title, and the book could get one of those snowy images of the city for the cover and…this is how my brain works, y’all, and you wonder why I question my sanity at times? What do you mean, you don’t wonder about it because it’s so obvious? How very dare you! lol). But the cold is now gone; it’s in the fifties this morning, with a high predicted in the seventies, so we’re back to normal weather for New Orleans November.
Yesterday was a good day, more or less. Yes, we were busy at work and yes, I was the only counselor working in the clinic (the rest of the week and month, it looks like), but I got through it. I’m a little behind again on admin duties, but I think I’ll be able to catch up this afternoon. The morning was back to back when I last looked yesterday, but the afternoon wasn’t quite as intense. I managed to get home and do chores last night (huzzah!) before settling in to finish off The Diplomat‘s third season, which is spectacular. HIGHLY recommend this show; if you’ve not already seen it, jump in head first. You won’t regret it.
I also started making my to-do list yesterday; yes, it’s rather late to make a weekly to-do list, but I can make a new one every Monday and ease my way back into the habit of the lists and following them; the organization of this pleases my anxiety to no end. I need to put “clean out inbox” on it, because the list of my unanswered emails is getting rather lengthy, and there are few things I like better than opening my inbox and seeing nothing in it. I do not miss the days of volunteer work that resulted in hundreds more emails every week. The problem is when there’s not a lot to answer it’s very easy to blow it off for another day, and since I always lose track of days and time, next thing I know it’s been a few weeks! My apologies to anyone who’s expecting an email from me…
But it’s actually been a good week. No fatigue, which has been marvelous, and just normal being 64 tired, which is lovely. My body has been through the ringer already this decade, and so it’s not that unusual for me to still not be back to whatever the new normal is going to be. I worried that the fatigue and exhaustion was the new normal, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. The most important thing for me to do is ensure I never have a relapse with the colitis, although it will never ever get as bad as it was when I had to be hospitalized, since we now know what the problem is and it doesn’t need to be diagnosed, and my GI specialist will know what to do to get me through it as quickly as possible. I don’t think I’ll ever lose that much weight that quickly ever again, either. DO NOT RECOMMEND.
I also started organizing bigger projects for my newsletter. Ooooh, Gregalicious, explain more! I’ve been wanting to tackle two subjects there–masculinity and religion–but have been hesitant because they are such big topics, and there is some crossover between the two. It occurred to me this weekend that I could simply pick subjects that fall under either umbrella and post/write/share as chapters. How cool! (I’d also been idly thinking about writing a continuing story there when the lightbulb went on over my head; it is truly sad how oblivious I can be to the obvious.) So, now I am pulling all the essay ideas I have for either topic into one document with a descriptive paragraph–an outline, if you will–so I can get started with both: the masculinity essays will go under the over-arching umbrella of “Are You Man Enough?” and religion will go under “Recovering Christian.”
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely midweek Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.
The Ramses II temple at Abu Simbel at night. This must be beautiful to see from the Nile.
Well, here we are on an extremely cold Tuesday morning and it is very chilly here in the work station here in the kitchen; I don’t even want to think about how cold the floor would be against bare feet (which is why I have a very comfortable pair of house shoes). It is bitterly cold outside this morning; about thirty-one degrees, per the local weather. It ends tonight, by the way, and we’ll recede back into fall from winter tomorrow (highs in the high 60s, low 70s) with a chance at winter coming back relatively soon. I just laughed at myself for talking about the weather; I kind of do that every day, don’t I?
Then again, I am sixty-four, and the right age to sit outside a country store in a rocking chair wearing a railroad cap and overalls and chewing tobacco. There, but for choices…but I don’t think old men hang around outside the country store/gas station in rural areas anymore; that’s part and parcel of my childhood and that world doesn’t really exist anymore, much as I’d like to think that it does. It often crops up when I am writing about Alabama–because that’s how I remember it, and that Alabama is so far gone in the rear view mirror it cannot even be seen.
Despite Chuckie and the Quislings, yesterday was also a lovely day because that horrible witch Kim Davis’ appeal of the six figure settlement awarded to a couple that sued her skank cosplay christian ass for refusing to issue a marriage license for them? Yeah, for once the Supreme Court did the right thing and refused to hear her case. Womp fucking womp, bitch. Have fun in bankruptcy hell. Maybe your buddies in the Huckabee family will help you pay off that oh-so-deserved debt liability, you miserable bitch. Now you can slink back to the bog you slithered out of, and you will forever be known as a hateful bitch deserted by the people who used her to try to overturn Obergefell1, which SCOTUS is just itching to do (her case wasn’t good enough for even those partisan hacks to overturn their previous decision; they’re waiting for the right one, you know. They have lifetime appointments and aren’t going anywhere soon). Just like the murdering thugs George Zimmerman and that pasty Mama’s soft boy whose name I can’t even remember at the moment, they abandoned her as soon as she ceased to be of use to them. What a shame.
I was tired last night when I got home from the errands in the cold. Well, tired isn’t the right word; more like I felt drained and listless. The apartment wasn’t cold, but I didn’t really feel 100% most of the day, either. I feel better this morning–not much of a reach there–so maybe I’ll be able to get some things done tonight when I get home from work, whether it’s writing or reading my Donna Andrews mystery. (I have to say, when I was moving stuff around on the end table–reordering the TBR Next Pile; Wanda Morris is up next–and I opened the book to just take a look at the opening…and she talks about themass suicide at Igbo Landing, which I’ve been reading about!!! I cannot wait to read this book now! I should also see how far behind I am on Wanda’s work….and it’s only this one I’ve not gotten to yet. Huzzah! Note to self: email her.) I also have dishes to put away and dishes to put in the dishwasher. Sigh. There are worse things, after all.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again on Midweek Wednesday morning.
She also needs to keep Jesus out of her skank mouth. Jesus never once preached arrogance in the faith or cruelty. You, madam, are arrogant in your faith AND cruel. Enjoy doing the breaststroke in the lake of eternal fire, blasphemer. ↩︎
Queer and Loathing in America 