Category: health

Maybe Love Will Change Your Mind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes It’s a Bitch

Ah, Wednesday morning in the Lost Apartment and I guess all is well–no mice stirring, I hope–and it should be another lovely day in New Orleans. I am hoping I am all better this morning; yesterday the cold was more annoying than anything else, really, and the constant having to blow my nose was aggravating. I slept really well and I feel pretty good so far–all I think is going on is some mild throat scratchiness and some mild head congestion, but feeling good when I first get up should be indicative of a pretty good day ahead. We weren’t terribly busy yesterday in the clinic, and was able to get caught up on my work despite missing Monday. Today isn’t bad, either–tomorrow is the busiest day on the schedule–and so tonight when I get home I absolutely need to do some chores I intended to do last night but…had to be a lap for a needy kitty while I caught up on the horrible news. Apparently he started another war while I slept? I am really tired of living in interesting times.

Does Maureen Dowd still stand by her column “Donald the Dove, Hillary the Hawk”? I won’t give the New York Times a dime of my money ever again, so I can’t check in on her–but that column alone should provide enough shame and disgrace that she should retire and disappear, forever, from public life. It’s funny, but I think some people are finally starting to wake up to “it could never happen here” to “holy shit, when did this happen?” Well, you know, Bill’s peccadilloes were Hillary’s fault and Kamala didn’t work at McDonalds and that LAUGH! Fascism is far, far better than either of those options, right? Future generations–if we don’t end up in a nuclear apocalypse–will look back and wonder, “They really hated women so much they were willing to give up their liberties. Wow.” I also see that Texas restricted voting in the Democratic primary–can’t imagine what they’ll do in the general, can you? They are going to do everything they can to suppress and/or rig the midterms–and that will be the end of the country as we knew it. Some of it deserved to die–the bigotry baked into the system, for one–but it’s better than what we’re going to have come the new year, believe you me. I hate being pessimistic like that, but you really can’t ever go wrong overestimating how evil the Right is in this country at this point in time. I’ve been ringing the warning bells since the 1990s, and oh, how I hate being proven right.

And I still keep hoping, as I have ever since the 90s, that I am wrong.

As my coffee kicks in and I am awake longer, I am feeling even better. This is the best I’ve felt in the morning in days, and I am neither groggy nor tired, which is also pretty nice. My Achilles tendons feel not bad this morning, either–I did spend some time icing them last night, which I really need to do every night until they aren’t sore anymore. Physically I feel better than I have in a few weeks–which is very nice, too; I’d forgotten what I felt like to not ache somewhere.

I’d been listening to Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl in the car, mystified why this record was bashed so much, when it finished playing yesterday and Spotify went into one of those “if you listened to that you may like this” mixes. First up was Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club,” which I’d only heard snippets of before and never all the way through, and you know, I liked it. It then mixed in a Charlie XCX song–I’d heard of her, but never heard her–and I kind of liked that too. I haven’t listened to the radio in decades–not since playing music through the car stereos from my iPod or iPhone became an option, any way–and so I’ve not been familiar with a lot of the popular current music since then. (Although the people I’d heard of nominated for Grammys has steadily declined since the 1990s, too.) So, I think I am going to queue up some new(er) artists. Why not? Expand my brain a bit and get out of the comfort zone? It also might be nice to know what people are talking about when they talk about popular music…and not feel like a rusty relic from another time. (Which is what I actually am, aren’t I? Sigh.)

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. Hope your day is as wonderful as you are, Constant Reader, and please know how grateful I am for all eternity that you check in periodically!

A gilded cross in the plaza by il Duomo in Florence

Jane

Tuesday and feeling somewhat better this morning. I just hate the whole head congestion thing, along with the scratchy throat and phlegmy cough. Not a fan–but are there people who like being sick? I suppose there are; anything you think is too outrageous for people to be into is more about your own naivete, really. It was smart to not go into the office yesterday–I don’t remember if I mentioned it yesterday or not, but I got up early and was sick, so I called out for the day. Sniffling, sneezing and coughing while working in a clinic? Not wise. I do feel much better this morning, and hope to make it through the day. I feel rested, which is always best, and a good night’s sleep definitely helped. I watched more of Season 1 of the UK Traitors (the OG, if you will)–it’s fun; every day people and it is the first season ever, so you can see how they learned to make the show better as they went. This first group didn’t have a clue about the game going in–everyone in every season later had a season to watch to get a grasp of how it works, so for this group, everything catches them by surprise–the challenges remain similar, with slight alterations per season. Sparky slept in my lap most of the day, which was also lovely, so overall, outside of feeling awful–I hate when my joints ache and my eyes water–it wasn’t too terrible.

I also tried for a bit to catch up on the news, but it was all so depressing I couldn’t bear it for terribly long. To heal my brain and soul from that horror, I spent some time looking at fan videos about the Heated Rivalry boys. For whatever reason, they–and their friendship–just please me endlessly. It’s always lovely when new stars explode into the night sky, isn’t it? I don’t know if we are conditioned to love rags-to-riches stories or if it’s organic within our psyches, but it’s so lovely to see two talented young men who were waiting tables a year ago become two of the most beloved actors on the planet, isn’t it? I remember seeing that video, where they were going to crash the viewing party at a gay bar in West Hollywood, and were worried no one would recognize them…of course, everyone did and loved and welcomed them, which was so nice. They genuinely seem like level-headed young men who are just as shocked as anyone they’ve blown up the way they did, and also seem to be very appreciative of it all. I do remember how it felt to publish my first book, to be considered a peer by other authors, and my first interactions with people who’d read my book. Mine wasn’t even remotely close to what they are experiencing, and it just brings me joy to see them (along with some of the Olympic athletes) enjoying the unexpected ride. I don’t think they’ve had much time to process anything–it literally blew up overnight–but I hope they never lose that sense of “is this really happening to me” that is so much fun to watch.

The primary war between Senator Bill Cassidy and “liberal” (as if) Julia Letlow continues to be entertaining, if tedious. Letlow’s finally dug her heels in and started throwing mud back at Cassidy–mainly, his vote to impeach their foul lord and master–and while it is fun watching MAGA Republicans turning on each other, you can only see those ads so many times before they become boring and old and tired. I do find it interesting that Letlow’s voice-over actor is a man, while Cassidy’s is a woman. It’s interesting to me that they use a differently gendered voice to smear their opponent, and what does that mean? Since Letlow is a woman, they need to have a man attack Cassidy, and vice versa? Is there some sexism/misogyny at play here? Is it because its “ungentlemanly” for Cassidy to attack a woman, so they hired a woman voice over actor? Likewise, does using a male voice for Letlow’s ad mean to convey strength–“I may be a woman, but here’s a man to make my case for me”? It also sent me down a wormhole of wondering who these voice actors are, and if there’s a playbook for political voice actors–“stress this word, draw out that one, lower your voice here” and so on. I wonder if there are more of these style voice actors (“running a racist campaign? Have we got the woman voice actor for YOU”) or if it’s just this man and woman doing them for everyone…and it does make you wonder a bit about the voice actors, doesn’t it?

I think me getting sick–Paul was sick last week, and undoubtedly passed it on to me as he recovered–was kind of a good thing, in a weird way. I don’t really recall having anything else wrong with me the last few years other than the big things–which kind of took up all of my head space–but I honestly don’t remember the last time I dosed myself with DayQuil before this past weekend, which is kind of a good thing? I have to remember, always, that my immune system is compromised, thanks to the ulcerative colitis, and the medication I take for it also makes me more prone to infection, and so I need to be a lot more careful about being exposed to things when I am out and about. So, getting this first cold or whatever it may be was an excellent reminder to be careful–although there’s not much I can do when Paul brings something home to me, is there?

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

Screenshot

Desert Angel

Monday and I am not going into the office this morning. I started feeling sick yesterday morning, and as the day progressed, I felt worse and worse, only finding relief in some over the counter DayQuil and my Flonase. I got up this morning still feverish, congested, and unwell–so I called (texted) out sick. I am going to rest today and hope that’s all I need for this to run its course. I loathe being sick, but at least this time it’s something minor. Of course, the colitis is an auto-immune thing, and the medication I take for it increases my risk for infections, so there is that, too. I’ve not really been sick like this in a while, though, so I can’t really complain. Paul was sick first, and so I probably picked this up from him. All I wanted to do yesterday was sleep and rest, so that’s what I did for the longest time.I had a lovely weekend, despite everything going on in the world, which is one of those weird dichotomies of life. We watched the HBO documentary Murder in Glitter Ball City, which was interesting–gay murder in Louisville; I remember the case when it happened–and then I started watching the first season of the UK’s version of The Traitors. The cast is all every day people from all walks of life, so it should be interesting. The US version is also going to start casting non-celebrities, too, so it should be interesting watching and seeing if it works with any group of people. My guess is yes–all you need is a diverse group of twenty people for the premise to work.

Ironically, today’s title is a song Stevie Nicks wrote for the first Gulf War, out of concern for our fighting men and women. Here we are again, sticking our unwanted noses into the Middle East yet again as a “fight for our security”–it was a lie in 2002 and 2003, it’s an even bigger lie now–and at least this time, Americans are in a different place than we were after 9/11. (Although some of us saw through the right wing propaganda and knew it was all lies from the start, only to be called traitors who didn’t support the troops…which was the ultimate irony because one would naturally assume that supporting the troops would include not wanting them to be killed or maimed for nothing (or rather so Dick Cheney’s war profiteer buddies could get rich), but what do I know, right? Yeah, I am pissed as fuck about this shit, but still trying to not vent my spleen everywhere and direct it where it actually needs to go. This is happening again because we left the Reich off the hook for the Bush administration’s lies and corruption. As a nation, isn’t it time we learned ONE fucking lesson from experience?

Sigh.

I can’t believe it’s March already. Sheesh! It’s the Carnival effect, and we go through it every year, don’t we? And yet it catches us off guard every year, doesn’t it? Just like, I suppose, how we forget from summer to summer how brutally hot it gets here. Local amnesia? It’s entirely possible.

I watched some of the news yesterday as I rested in my chair and Sparky slept in my lap, but it eventually was too rage-inducing so I turned away from that and watched some history videos on Youtube (Margaret of Austria, the French Wars of Religion, the Battle of Midway) before settling in for Murder in Glitter Ball City, which I did enjoy, and which also raised some interesting questions for me about power dynamics in gay relationships–the gay couple in this were no Shane and Ilya, believe you me–and also reminded me of my short story “An Arrow for Sebastian.” I also kind of basked in the glow of Connor Storrie killing it on Saturday Night Live–I am such a fan, and really hope to see his star continue to rise. I love the whole thing about how both he and Hudson Williams were basically waiting tables when they got the gig, and now are global superstars. They also seem like such really nice guys, who are just gobsmacked and grateful for this change in fortune they’re experiencing. Stay away from both of them, Ryan Murphy. You can have Ashton Kutcher.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and go lie down again for a bit. Hope you’re having a lovely day, Constant Reader, and hopefully I’ll be back and feeling better in the morning.

Cosimo de Medici, the father of his people, in the main square near the Uffizi

Unconditional Love

Saturday morning and all is well here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday turned out lovely, after the rain, there was this lovely chill dampness to the air that was quite nice. I got all of my work done without a problem, and worked on the house. The kitchen looks terrific now–I still need to do the floors and some touch up; same with living room–and it was nice to come downstairs to a very clean kitchen and work space. I also did all the dishes and all the laundry! I also spent some time icing my ankles, and will probably do that some more today. I never got around to writing yesterday, and I didn’t read anything I have in progress already (I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with my brain lately), but as I was moving things around I picked up a couple of books that I paged through a bit (The Last Picture Show and Michelangelo, but more on those later), so that’s something. I watched the reunions for The Traitors seasons 3 and 4, which were fun (more on those later). When Paul came down, I finished the day’s chores and settled in for the LSU-Dartmouth baseball game, before we switched over to the LSU Gymnastics meet against Alabama (yes, if you didn’t know already, we are a very LSU house), and then it was off to bed. I slept really well for the first time in a while, and feel rested. My Achilles tendons also need icing this morning before I head out for my errands later this morning.

Today, I am going to pick up the mail, and make some groceries on the way back home. I had planned on washing the car, but now I don’t think I am going to. I also need to get mailing envelopes because I’ve been terribly lazy about sending the copies of my book to the people I need to; but this whole month has been kind of weird in some ways, which I am still thinking about and processing. I am also a little freaked out that tomorrow is March 1 already, but that’s how time passes in New Orleans in the first two months of the year. It also looks gray outside this morning, but it’s supposed to be sunny and warm by the early afternoon.

As I had mentioned, as I was moving books around yesterday, I came across copies of Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show and Michelangelo by William E. Wallace, both books I enjoyed, and The Last Picture Show was influential on me, I think, as a writer. The Last Picture Show was basically another, male-driven version of Peyton Place–the dark, dirty sex secrets of a small town, and it also made me a lifelong fan of McMurtry. (I also loved the film version.) I was going to reread it a few summers ago, but I gave up on the read when we got to the calf-fucking and taking Billy to the hooker who bloodied his nose. Billy was unable to give consent to anything, so from a modern reading this entire sequence is pretty disturbing, but I think I will give it another go because of how the book treats homosexuality; I’d like to see the book through that lens, and see precisely how the future Oscar winning screenwriter of Brokeback Mountain dealt with it in an early novel.

Left Coast Crime is criming right now, and of course I am enjoying everyone’s social media posts, but…I don’t have any FOMO? Considering FOMO has been a major driving factor throughout my life, and often to my own detriment, I think this is some serious personal growth. I never really liked the “pick me” side of my fractured personality, and I am not in the least bit sorry to banish that part of my brain into some remote, dusty and not easily accessed back wrinkle in the very back of my skull. I think this is a big step forward for me, you know?

Connor Storrie is hosting Saturday Night Live tonight, and I may stay up to watch some of it–I can also replay it on Peacock tomorrow morning, or find clips on Youtube if I can’t stay up that late. They are also bringing on one or two of the Hughes bros–trying to rehab them in front of the audience Connor will bring them (straight women and gay men–yeah, I am sure they’ll be embraced by the live audience and we should be prepared for NBC to mute any negative audience reactions to their stain of an appearance. Since NBC also hosts the Olympics, obviously they feel the need to rehabilitate the men who can’t say sorry, ladies, we totally fucked up in the moment and we are so sorry to spit in your faces about your accomplishments like that. You see how institutions always rally to the cause of infantile boys who never grow up? I do love the way the country has stepped up for the women, though. My favorite thing this past week has been reading the comments on the social media posts of the NHL or the teams’ accounts.

And I think a harsh critique and rebuke of that infantilizing “boys will be boys/locker room talk” enabling bullshit is in order, and could be the introduction to my essays series on masculinity. Hmmm.

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

David Florentine is a great New Orleans photographer; check out his work! I especially love the spectral mist in this shot. You can check out his website here.

Docklands

Work at home Friday and I have to go get labs drawn this morning before my doctor’s appointment next Friday. So I can’t have anything to eat, and just black coffee before. No thanks. I’ll make a cup of coffee in a go-mug and take it with me, and once my blood is drawn I will start slurping it down.

Okay, I went and am back and am finally on my first cup, which is wonderful, I have to say. It started raining on my short drive over to Quest, and I was in and out in less than fifteen minutes. On my way home, it started pouring, so I got very wet getting from the car to the apartment and it was kind of fun. It’s still rainy and very gray outside, which is one of those lovely days for staying inside and being cozy, you know? I have a meeting this morning, and work-at-home duties as always, but I want to get some chores done and maybe some reading and writing, if the rain holds.

I was tired when I got home from work, making a bit of groceries on the way, but I still managed to get some things done. I emptied the dishwasher and refilled it (it’s running now), did a load of clothes, and worked on the kitchen while waiting for Paul to get home so we could watch the season 4 finale of The Traitors (which was fun, but more on that at another time), so I don’t have quite as much work on the house to get done today and tomorrow. Huzzah! I also know there’s a part of my brain–controlled by medication now, but it’s definitely there–that doesn’t let me write when my apartment isn’t up to my personal code; because if there’s any excuse to not write I will always jump on it. Now, I’m just not as aware of it as I used to be, if that makes sense? Now I just think oh, maybe not today and there’s always tomorrow but then tomorrow comes and I don’t want to, anymore. I actually had the thought this week–after dealing with my taxes–you know, I wouldn’t have to do this if I didn’t write anymore but that intrusive thought was quickly followed by yeah but as long as books are in print you’ll be getting royalties to be taxed on and what the hell will I do with myself if I stop? I also had an errant thought about how much I dislike the marketing side of writing (I always feel like a sideshow freak hawking snake oil), which was also one of those “for real for real” moments; but I have no choice. I am a compulsive writer, and sometimes it seems like I need a contract to make a project seem real enough for me to actually do it, you know?

There’s no better motivator than a looming deadline!

Hmm, it looks like it’s getting lighter outside so maybe this rain has passed. It wasn’t really much, maybe enough to stop the wildfires in the swamps and wetlands in the east if we were lucky (this year’s fire isn’t nearly as bad as it has been in previous years, where you can smell and almost taste the smoke). We’re in that weird post-Carnival pre-festival season weather window, where it can turn on a dime–damp and cold one day, gorgeous and hot the next, which is the time most locals have sinus and some kind of crud issues. My coffee also seems to be kicking in and I feel pretty good, to be honest. My head is clearing, and once I finish this and my meeting I am probably going to get cleaned up and get started on some work. I am going to run my errands tomorrow–parking in the neighborhood is always an issue during week days–since I have books to take to the library sale. LSU Gymnastics is also hosting Alabama tonight, so that takes care of tonight’s television entertainment (I do have to say, though, if you’ve not watched any of The Traitors, it’s a highly entertaining show and the absolute perfect escape for these times–watching it alongside the Olympics was highly enjoyable.)

And now, I think I am going to get another cup of coffee and make breakfast. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back again tomorrow morning.

Fitness influencer Polo Marin

Destiny

Thursday and my last day in the office this week, praise Jesus. It’s not been my best week, what with the insomnia and tiredness. It’s kind of ironic that after finally getting past the endless fatigue of the past few years, and finally getting excellent sleep for months…that the insomnia has come back. I think it’s over-caffeination, frankly–lots of coffee these last few days, which wasn’t smart; yesterday morning I really felt the effects. Not to mention the endless irritation that social media has become, with bots flooding feeds with racism, misogyny, homophobia, and the most disgusting ableism and infantilization of people with people with medical conditions that I despair of this world and start rooting for the meteor strike–failing that, any extinction event on this planet would probably be a boon to the rest of the universe. I think maybe my weariness at this insane dumpster fire we’re living through might be seeping into my soul.1 I won’t let the bastards win, though–and if they send me to a camp, well, I’ll be defiant until they kill me.

I’m not, and never will be, a good little German.

And I did sleep better last night. I feel better this morning, if my legs are a bit tired. I definitely hit a wall yesterday afternoon after lunch, and was so tired that I thought it was Thursday by the end of the day. I ran an errand on the way home and had groceries delivered, and I also did some chores and picked up a bit before collapsing into my easy chair with Sparky for the evening. We finished off Season 3 of The Traitors–so much traitor on traitor violence!–and did not see that ending coming at all. Maybe when the show has been around longer, and people are more familiar with it and how it works, the players will watch past seasons and catch the patterns and shifts in how people inevitably end up going along with other people when they can’t make up their own minds–or how easily people can be manipulated and steered, which is part of its appeal, I think, and when the players talk about learning lessons about themselves from playing, I can totally see that. We at home viewers can roll our eyes at players being deceived, or making insane leaps of logic, often outsmarting themselves in the process–but we also aren’t there, and we are only being shown bits and pieces of their days and their interactions–and it is possible to bond very quickly with people when you’re completely immersed in a group with no outside contact–like fraternity hell weeks, or boot camp–and it’s also a very good lesson in how perceptive and intuitive you are–as well as making you doubt yourself. The finale of season 4 airs tonight, and we shall see if Alabama Rob can pull it off with his sweet demeanor, blue eyes, and prettiness.

Never trust a pretty Southern boy from rural Alabama. Just sayin’.

The hockey mess continues, and the Olympic players keep digging themselves in deeper, and the NHL and the teams aren’t helping matters at all, either. Every social media post gets ratioed, and apparently they are hoping to ignore it till the season ends and hope it all goes away before next season. That’s how ignorant they are in their misogyny; they don’t understand women in the least. Women are, as a general rule, incredible in their ability to maintain a grudge (I admire that because I am similar). I sure as hell carry grudges to the grave with me. I’ve been to Colorado exactly twice in my life since they passed anti-gay legislation decades ago; it has since been repealed an Colorado is mostly blue now…but I still won’t spend my money there, and my visits were work-related. I just mentally crossed Colorado off my list of places to visit, and never thought about it again. Likewise, I am not too keen on ever doing anything to help Florida economically, either. When I visit my family over in Panama City Beach-which is rare–I buy gas before I cross the state line into Florida, and make sure I wait till I cross it again on the way home. Any little bit I can do to not help their economy, I am so there.

But it looks like the women’s team–and all the women medalists–are going to have a massive celebratory party in Las Vegas thrown by Flavor Flav, and companies are stepping up to participate or sponsor it. Hope those cold double cheeseburgers and Aquafina water bottles (warm, I’ll bet) and ketchup packets in that back-ass tacky conference room was so much better than anything the women will experience in Las Vegas–and the women are also getting a lot of endorsement deals. The men’s accomplishment is forever stained and tainted by allowing themselves to be used as political props for a pedophile who hates women. Job well done, assholes. The “honor” of a White House visit? There’s no honor in being used like that, and then lapping it up as you lick the very boots of the monster who is stealing your glory and using it to prop his unpopular ass up. This will haunt you until the days you die…because the Internet is forever and if you think the women players are going to forget how you pissed all over the “friends” you pretend to “support”?

But no worries guys–there’s always prostitutes and gold-diggers to fuck. And as for the NHL’s so-called “Girl Dad” campaign? It’s kind of abhorrent now that we know those dads are okay with the sex trafficking of children. That’s a very specific version of utter ick.

Ugh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, and I will be here again tomorrow!

  1. Those of you thinking the next election will change things, may I direct you to the elections of 2008 and 2020? ↩︎

Love is Like a River

Can we pretend yesterday was just a bad dream and start over? Sheesh.

It began with me not sleeping well on Sunday night. I was having some stomach issues on Sunday–heartburn, mostly, with an occasional side of unpleasant burping–and then remembered that oh yes, tomorrow is my injection and I can usually tell the days leading into it., which was why I wasn’t hungry or eating that much over the weekend, and the last few days of last week. Okay, fine, but the heartburn was intermittent and thus I had a night of fitful sleep where I awoke periodically, but never really fell into a really deep sleep. The reason I hit “snooze” yesterday morning just once was because it was warm and comfortable and Sparky was curled up in a ball on my pillow beside me. But I was already awake, needed to shave, and so I grabbed my sweats and ventured out in the horribly cold apartment, and down the stairs, where it was even colder. YIKES. I noticed when I was running water to fill the sink to shave that there wasn’t much water pressure.

Which, of course, led to there not being enough water pressure for the shower.

Sigh. I know it’s more a habit and a mental thing, but I never really feel awake until I’ve showered and gotten cleaned up. Once I am out of the shower, I feel ready to face the day. Not showering? A long day in which I am out of sorts literally almost all day. Turns out, a big water main near the intersection of Claiborne and Toledano burst…and it flooded the neighborhood before they were able to get it off. The drop in water pressure also led to a boil water advisory, businesses and schools closed, and so on. Such a New Orleans thing (note: put that in a Scotty book)!

After I got to work, the day leveled off and I had a relatively good day at the office, in spite of being tired and not taking a hot shower on a cold morning (cold again this morning, but at least no blizzard). Of course, the day was going to be one of those days, it’s just that none of the nonsense was work-related, more of a macro thing than anything else.

Ugh, the world was ablaze yesterday, wasn’t it? The glow I was feeling coming out of the Olympics is now gone, and I rescind my pride in the US Men’s hockey team winning gold–and their alchemic transmutation of gold to lead. Straight men in groups are always garbage, especially when they think no one who isn’t a straight white men won’t know. “Locker room talk,” that bullshit. As for the Hughes brothers, congratulations on being pieces of shit and letting us all know that your mother is one, too. I really don’t think that bitch should be in charge of the safety of young women when she excuses demeaning talk about women from her own sons. This tells me she did a shitty job of raising decent human beings, and I suspect all their “advocacy” for Pride Nights and all that is just PR. “Yay, spend your money to come see us play and buy our merch!” while calling us fags in the locker room and laughing. The minute any white woman pulls out that whole “locker room talk/boys will be boys” dismissal? That tells me she doesn’t believe rape victims, thinks sluts deserve to be raped for leading men astray. I wasn’t a hockey fan–never watch, don’t care–before this, and I won’t be watching any men’s hockey again, and certainly not the US men’s team. I hope they never qualify for another medal round at the Olympics, frankly. That trash doesn’t represent me.

I can’t imagine how the women’s team felt, seeing and hearing that after cheering the men on in every game.

At least my taxes are done. That’s something, right?

Here’s hoping for a better day today! See you tomorrow!

The height difference between the street and the sidewalk is demonstrated by the live oak roots!

Street Angel

It’s cold this morning–in the forties–so I’ll probably wear an extra layer to work today. It’s never going to be warmer than the mid-fifties. We are also in a red flag warning, which means we’ve not had rain in a while so there’s a chance of fires again, in and around the city. I think last year there was a wildfire in one of the swamps east of town and ugh, did the air smell bad. I am rested this morning, but the ankles are still sore and need to be iced tonight when I get home. I didn’t get much of anything done this weekend other than finishing the cabinet/pantry project, but that’s okay, you know? Sparky needed some bonding time, apparently–I was trapped (cat owners understand this) in my chair for almost five hours yesterday because he was a little ball of fur in my lap, in a sleep that was so deep he didn’t react to anything in that entire time. I did get up a few times, but he would yawn and stretch and follow me into the kitchen to ask for treats and then followed me right back to the chair and into the lap he’d go. He was snuggled up with me in the bed this morning–I had a fitful night’s sleep, honestly, the worst night’s sleep I’ve had in months. Today is the date for my every-eight-weeks injection; I could tell yesterday that it was coming up because I had some discomfort yesterday and was a bit concerned and then thought oh yes, I bet the injection is tomorrow and sure enough, it is. Like clockwork, right?

Unfortunately, with Sparky needing a lap and bonding time, instead of reading I turned on the television and watched some news, some replays of the Olympics skating (I”m so proud of our figure skaters!) and was stunned to see that US men’s hockey team captured gold by beating Canada–just like the US women. I think I saw our Olympic team was the most medaled US team in winter Olympic history, which is very cool. It’s very lovely to take pride in our young athletes rather than the constant embarrassment on the world stage that this administration is–and I am thankful to the world for not booing our athletes, which is something I was afraid of, and then realized, projection–US Americans are the type, not people from other countries. I hate that Canada lost the golds in their national sport to us, especially after our government has been non-stop bullying (or trying to, anyway) theirs.

The LA Olympics in 2028–should they happen–will probably rival the 1936 Berlin Games for xenophobia and the triumph of the will…if they aren’t boycotted by every country on the planet. The thought of all the banners to himself he’s going to hang everywhere in sight, lording over the Olympic Games like a syphilitic Nero. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t try to award the medals himself–or steal the golds. The constant need for adoration and to be awarded prizes he doesn’t deserve is truly pathetic, and I could even feel some empathy or sympathy for that constant reassurance that he is indeed a Very Special Boy that he never got from his revolting parents, if he weren’t so fucking dangerous. It’s all very The Dead Zone, and I’ve thought that since the day he rode down that tacky as fuck escalator to announce he intended to loot and destroy the country while bringing back the 1950s.

No, I will never forgive the people who supported, financed, and voted for him–even if it was only once. How much strychnine can the country take, after all? One good thing about him–the only good thing–is that he has completely exposed the Right and their voters as liars, cheats, and hypocrites whose only gods are money and power and racism. Their Christianity is a heresy, their patriotism is white nationalism, and their love for the country is conditional.

Patriots, my ass. (And today’s picture is of a nice ass, for the record.)

I also refuse to berate myself for resting this entire weekend and not doing much of anything other than chores–I even managed to talk myself out of doing my errands! Although the one thing I will berate myself for is how easily it is to talk myself out of doing everything and anything, but that’s also the negative road and I am choosing not to take it. But I do need to get my ass in gear and get my shit together.

And on that morose note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning (it’s going to be cold again, yay).

Yikes! That’s a rather intense wedgie, isn’t it?

Blue Denim

It’s Thursday but it feels like Tuesday. Heavy heaving sigh. But at least tonight there’s a new episode of my current obsession, Traitors, and tomorrow I don’t have to come in to the office, so there’s that. I really shouldn’t complain about the office this week, should I, since I am only in for two days? Next week is going to be a trial, methinks, and next thing you know it’s March. AIEEE!!!

Meh, there are worse things. And when am I not disoriented and confused anymore these days? Seriously.

Yesterday was actually a relatively easy day at work, which made the return to reality much easier. It was quiet, for one, and there was NO traffic on my way into the office. I managed not only to hit all the lights, but no traffic on I-10 meant I was parking the car a little more than five minutes after I drove off from the curb at home. I wasn’t very far behind on my work and was able to get caught up pretty easily. The city was in ruins as I drove in, too–St. Charles was mostly clean (the slalom course was still up) but the side streets were trashed. The good news was a lot of people were out cleaning it up, so that was nice. Back in the olden days they didn’t even get around to cleaning the Avenue at first so it was always nasty out there on Ash Wednesday. I did start to get tired in the afternoon, which is normal for my usual workdays. I ran uptown and did some errands on the way home. There wasn’t any traffic after work either–I got all the way uptown from work in less than fifteen minutes, at rush hour. I made a few groceries and got the mail and came home to a needy kitty who hadn’t been left completely alone at home since I got home Thursday afternoon, so he demanded my lap for cuddles and sleep–and cat parents know that once they’re curled up and sound asleep in a purring ball in your lap, you ain’t going anywhere. Tonight it’s going to be straight home for me after work so I can get some things done around here.

And that’s why I didn’t do anything after getting home last night–I needed to comfort Sparky, and the longer I sat there with him sleeping and purring in my lap, the more relaxed and less likely to do anything I became. I caught up on the news (ugh) and melted into my chair to the point that I went to bed before Paul got home from the office! I also slept really well, didn’t want to get up this morning, and am looking forward to no alarm tomorrow. That’s the thing with mini-vacations when you’re older–they make retirement look so appealing! But retirement isn’t probably going to happen for me for a few more years, at any rate. I felt kind of guilty last night when I climbed the stairs and headed for bed for not getting more things done around here, and I most likely won’t do anything tonight when I get home…but then, I won’t be tired the way I usually am on Thursday nights, either. I ran errands last night so I can come straight home from work this evening.

Tonight, I think I’ll try to do some reading and writing when I get home, and do some chores if I have the energy and mindset. I’ll need to ice my ankles tonight–I didn’t do it yesterday, but the left seems to be okay now, but the right still complains. It’s not nearly as bad as it was originally–and resting Achilles tendons means being stationary for a long time, and I’ve never been able to sit still for very long. But I think we’re already past the hump on those bastards, and hopefully some more icing will patch up the right as well.

I woke up this morning to the news the British police have arrested Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor for his participation with Epstein1, and good for the British and especially good for the royal family for not shielding him from justice with royal privilege. This is how you do it, Americans. The funny thing about European nations investigating all of this is inevitably, they are going to have to issue arrests warrants for the American president, or statements on his involvement. The cult will never turn, of course, those hard core loyalists for whom raping, torturing and killing children isn’t a dealbreaker. He’ll say it’s a hoax like he does with everything despite all the evidence to the contrary, and they’ll soak it up like a biscuit with gravy. They honestly believe he’s in shape and virile and handsome and intelligent–not just intelligent, but smarter than everyone on the planet2. It’s mind boggling to me, and something I may never be able to entirely wrap my brain around–but I do kind of love that he’s exposed the Right for what they are–unAmerican, authoritarian, party before country, demagogues and liars and grifters. The veneer and facade and pretense they are anything else is long gone; the mask has come off completely and they’ve embraced the horror of who they really are…

And of course, go to church regularly and learn nothing. Which just goes to show…church is for those who need moral guidance and clarity, but they never learn from what they hear or read in their holy book. One of the reasons I like James Talarico so much is because he calls out the Christian Nationalism, which will be known to history as the American Heresy.

AH, my coffee is kicking in and it’s almost time to head into the spice mines. Here’s hoping we all have a lovely day, get everything done we need to get done, and get the rest we need. The times are interesting, but we can’t allow the bastards to win. See you in the morning!

Gorgeous Taylor Zahkar Perez, whom I first noticed as the first centerfold in Minx.
  1. Here’s hoping he rats everyone out for a lesser sentence. ↩︎
  2. There’s a significant difference between intelligence and cunning. He isn’t intelligent, but he is very cunning. I’m willing to grant cunning, but never intelligent. ↩︎