Category: history

Strawberry Wine

Sunday morning and I do hope all is well with you, Constant Reader! It rained overnight, so it’s a bit chillier this morning than it was yesterday (yesterday was a beautiful day, sunny and in the low seventies); the cold weather comes in tonight around bedtime. How lovely! I slept late this morning, and Sparky let me, for the most part, cuddling rather than trying to get me up most of the time. Yesterday was, for its part, mostly quiet and restful. I didn’t push myself to get things done the way I had hoped, but Paul didn’t have his trainer yesterday and decided to hang out rather than go to the office, so I spent most of the dat in my chair watching television with Paul. I watched two more French history documentaries–this time, histories of the Capet and Bourbon dynasties. We also watched Caught Stealing with Austin Butler, which was different than what we were expecting. The previews made it seem like a black comedy, and yes, there were moments of black humor in the movie, but it was more of a thriller than anything else. My primary takeaway was that Austin Butler is incredibly beautiful (which I’ve known since The Shannara Chronicles), and has the kind of charisma that is very hard to stop watching. It was one of those ‘endless nightmare’ movies, where doing a punk neighbor a favor takes the main character down a path of violence and endless, deadly mess. It also has an insanely good cast, too–Regina King, Zoe Kravitz, Liev Shrieber, etc.–and of course, was directed by Darren Aronofsky.

I did finish scanning my notes from my journal yesterday, which felt like a win, and I did some cleaning and organizing, too. The house feels very snug this morning–warm and cozy–which is really nice, and means I will get to spend some more time in my chair this morning reading and watching another history documentary; I found one on Louis XIII yesterday–the King of The Three Musketeers–who has always been overshadowed in French history by his father and son, as well as his chief minister, Cardinal Richelieu, who remains one of my favorite people in history. (I never could have picked an era of history to concentrate on had I become an historian…) The reign of Louis XIII is a very interesting period in French history, and that could very well be because of The Three Musketeers and my fervent desire to write the story from Milady’s perspective. That’s probably a pipe dream because I’ll never have the time to research and write the story, but it’s always there in the corner of my mind, like an annoying splinter that nags at me from time to time.

Today is going to be only slightly less relaxing from yesterday. I do need to clean and organize some more, and I do need to both read and write today. I also finished my old journal and started a new one this morning (and I put the date in it this time; I had a sense of time in the old ones based on the notes on short stories and novels I was actively working on at the time I was recording things in the journals, but the date will be ever so much more helpful, you know?). I also found a safe, out of the way place to store them going forward. I will continue to have to periodically do this with them, as I move on to other projects I’ve taken voluminous notes on in them–as well as short story and essay ideas that never moved from there to the active files–but it’s kind of fun to scan the pages and label them and put them away in the computer files. (That OCD thing never has gone completely away, and probably never will. Yay for chemical imbalances that are useful!)

The new season of Percy Jackson has dropped, too, which I am also looking forward to watching. I loved the world of Percy Jackson, and those are the books you should be giving your kids, not that other unoriginal and entirely ripped off fantasy series for kids whose author is raw sewage on a good day and a fiend from hell on bad ones. I greatly enjoyed reading the Percy Jackson books, and Rick Riordan’s other mythology based juvenile series are really the best, most engaging books. I would have loved them when I was a kid, because I loved ancient history and mythology growing up (thanks to Time-Life’s Great Ages of Man series, which my parents got for me). I’ve been trying to unpack my childhood and my life-long interests, and where those interests came from. Egypt, of course, is my favorite ancient empire; I’ve always had an affinity for Egypt and have always been drawn to it. (I’ve recently started another essay series about my Egyptian interests…beginning with the Time/Life Ancient Egypt book, a juvenile book called Cleopatra of Egypt and another one that was a mystery, The Mystery of the Pharaoh’s Treasure–and others along the way, including Amelia Peabody and Robin Cook’s Sphinx.)

And well, on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for the day. I have to run to the grocery store, which I am going to do this morning, methinks, before coming back here and getting cleaned up and get that all over with…but first I am going to watch that documentary on Louis XIII while drinking coffee, eating breakfast and waking up completely. Have a lovely Sunday, wherever you find yourself, Constant Reader.

These lights–from the former human trafficking site Houmas House–are gorgeous.

East Bound and Down

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well and peaceful. I have fed His Majesty, Tuglas MacSparkle, and he went back upstairs to cuddle in bed with Paul. Yesterday was a very nice day; I got my work done, as well as a lot of chores. I had groceries delivered, picked up the mail, and then relaxed into my evening. We got caught up on South Park (oh my GOD1), Heated Rivalry, and finished Death by Lightning before moving on to the latest Knives Out movie, Wake Up Dead Man, which referenced the works of John Dickson Carr (whom I have not read). I also watched a documentary on the French House of Valois, which was very interesting. All were thoroughly enjoyable, too. These Benoit Blanc mystery movies are so much fun, so cleverly written and filmed, and there’s always some pithy commentary on a social issue–in this one, religion and power–which doesn’t hit you over the head with a sledgehammer, but are there if you’re paying attention. The acting is also fantastic; Daniel Craig is terrific as Benoit, and Josh O’Connor is terrific as the main suspect, a compassionate priest confronted with a toxic parish led by a toxic churchman. I also slept really well last night, too–and His Majesty let me sleep later than usual, which was also very nice. Thanks, Sparky!

I do enjoy being rested, you know? I also need to do some reading and things this morning while I do some more chores. I need to get the dishwasher unloaded, the floors done, and some other filing and so forth finished. I also need to work on writing, too. I want to finish The Postman Always Rings Twice reread; the month is almost half over and I’ve done so little for Noirmas that it’s kind of sad. Maybe I’ll rewatch something classic this morning, or after Paul goes off to his trainer; there’s no football today, after all. I think I have both In a Lonely Place and The Strange Love of Martha Ivers on the Hulu DVR; either of which would work. Or perhaps some 1980s neo-noir? You can never go wrong with Body Heat or Masquerade, after all, or some of those other unsettling films from the 1980s.

But I also have to decide whether I am going to do Christmas cards this weekend or not; next weekend would be too late, of course, and I have to send Dad his gift in the mail–which is more of a joke gift, but it should make him laugh, and that’s what matters.

I also want to start paring things down again. Another sweep through the books, a box from the attic, and straightening and reorganizing the pantry and my cabinets and the refrigerator. I also am going to be working on gathering my Chlorine notes, so I can review them all and start sketching out the story and figuring out my characters and who they are and making it slick and tight. Obviously, the first draft will not be done by the end of the year, which is what I was hoping for, but time has this nasty habit of slipping through my fingers lately. (And by lately, I mean the last twenty years.) I already feel like this morning is slipping away from me already, too. Those kinds of thoughts used to lead to anxiety spirals, and no, I do not miss those horrible spirals in the least. They were exhausting, really; anxiety spirals always led to adrenaline bursts which inevitably left me exhausted and worn out and tired to the bone; like driving to Kentucky. This last time was wonderful. I wasn’t in the least bit concerned about getting there as fast as I could, didn’t worry about losing time, and recognized that the time driving was actually out of my control–traffic is something I am, and always will be, at its mercy–and as such, no adrenaline spikes and no anxiousness and no utter exhaustion when I finally arrived. It’s nice to be able to relax and listen to a book as I drive through the deep South.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee, another piece of coffee cake, and repair to my easy chair to read for a moment before getting cleaned up and my day started. It does look really nice out there; perhaps today I can take a walk around the neighborhood? We’ll have to see. Anyway, it’s off to the spice mines with me for the day; may your day be whatever you wish it to be. I’ll be back again on the morrow.

Sexy, yes–but I can’t help but wonder if there are body parts in that bag for some reason.
  1. The fact that MAGA and Fox are pretending that the show isn’t viciously skewering this administration tells me that it’s definitely getting under their skin and scoring direct hits. ↩︎

You’ve Never Been This Far

Work at home Friday! I have to go to Quest this morning to get some bloodwork done (the joys of being an old gay in his sixties never stop, believe you me), but this is the last test for something new for awhile, and will determine whether I need additional treatment for something else… I don’t know, though. I feel pretty good and have energy and there’s not even a hint of brain fog anymore, which is kind of like having enough oxygen after breathing in smoke for years. I know that might sound extreme, but that’s how I look at it because that’s how it feels. I still have short term memory issues (i,e, going into the kitchen and forgetting why I went in there to begin with), but those are bearable and so much better than every other symptom of this nonsense I’ve been dealing with this decade. But, as I have said and will continue to say and believe, it’s so nice to know there was a medical issue to blame these past five-going-on-six years rather than it be from getting older and more frail and feeble. And, even with those issues, I managed to get things done anyway.

That’s something, isn’t it?

I did stop on the way home last night to make groceries, but forgot a few things (of course) so am going to have to go out this weekend to get those, or perhaps simply have them delivered. After I got home and Sparky commanded my attention while watching the news, I did get some laundry started, but that was about it. I went down some Youtube wormholes for research–I am writing an essay about US History, wrapped around the PBS series The American Revolution, with a shout out to Hamilton–which was a lot of fun. I do love me some history. I also am going to start writing my essays about powerful women of the sixteenth century, under the Monstrous Regiment of Women umbrella. I also scanned some notes from my journal for Chlorine, and I hope to get that finished today. There’s no college football this weekend, so Saturday yawns wide open and free.

I’ve already been to Quest to get the lab work done and have come home to finish this and do my work-at-home duties along with my other chores. I wasn’t gone more than thirty minutes, including driving and parking, which really isn’t bad. Of course, before the anxiety medicine I would have been sitting in the lobby, scrolling through my phone or reading my book or some combination of the two, while fidgeting the entire time. I left here just after eight and was back by eight forty, which isn’t terrible. Feeling good and better rested and losing the brain fog has made me really appreciate the anti-anxiety medication all the more, because there’s not that tension building inside all the time anymore, which is also very relaxing; not being tightly wound is quite marvelous, and I don’t know how I managed sixty years plus without said medication. Better late than never.

I saw yesterday that Liam Neeson did the narration for an antivax documentary singing the praises of RFK Jr, and the dangers of vaccines and the COVID hoax and so forth; welp, Mr. Neeson will never be watched in anything ever again in this household. It speaks a lot to who he is, doesn’t it? Either he’s a medical conspiracy moron, or he’s a whore who’ll take a paycheck no matter what he has to do for it. In either case, not someone whose career I have any interest in continuing to support any longer. (I also noted that Sydney Sweeney has also decided to distance herself from MAGA and her white supremacy antics–now that her career is taking and her films are bombing. Never forget that smug smirk on her face when she declined to comment on the controversy. She’s fucking trash. MAGA men just like your tits, bitch, they aren’t going to see your movies.) I also refuse to support any garbage actors who are getting Harry Potter paychecks in the future. You know who and what the Chatelaine of Castle TERF is; don’t plead fucking ignorance. You like blood money. Nice to know who’d be filming with Leni Reifenstahl in the 1930s.

I also saw the Supergirl trailer yesterday and really liked it. I’m sure the comic book incels will hate it, as they hate all women super-heroes. Seriously, little boys–why do powerful women trigger you so much?

Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you again tomorrow morning.

The Good Stuff

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.

Maybe It Was Memphis

Maybe it wasn’t?

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.

The temple at Edfu, Egypt

Long Violent History

Work at home Friday, with all kinds of stuff to get done today before I head out this afternoon for some medical appointments; maintenance checks, more than anything else and nothing serious. I was very tired at the end of my work day yesterday, but had to run an errand on my way home. By the time I got home my brain was fried and my hip joints were aching–they are again this morning as I swill my coffee and wait for my meeting this morning while doing data entry. I did not do a single chore last night when I got home, more’s the pity, so I am going to need to do those today and get this place straightened up and cleaned up. Heavy sigh. I didn’t do a whole hell of a lot last night other than watch the news and watch some research videos on Youtube. The coffee is kicking in now, and Sparky let me sleep a little while longer this morning, which was also kind of nice. I don’t think I’m going to leave the house today; I need to drop books off at the library sale tomorrow, so I might as well go get the mail and make groceries for the weekend then, right?

As the world continues to burn thanks to our grifting, greedy and soulless leadership in Washington, I must say the administration and the rest of the Epstein class (someone defined the super-rich this way on-line; I wish I could remember who it was to give proper credit, my apologies) are certainly doing their best to bring on the angry, violent mobs who’ll drag them to a guillotine on the mall after sacking the Capital and the White House. Remember, it’s not the left side of the equation in this country who resorts to violence; it’s his own base, whom he keeps pissing on every day, almost daring them to turn on him. I don’t know how so many people were conned, especially when he told them, throughout the campaign, that he didn’t care about them, he just needed their votes–and their arrogant smugness has certainly come back around and kicked them in the balls, hasn’t it? Thoughts and prayers, trash. I have as much sympathy for you, as you had for immigrants in 2024. I wouldn’t let any of you suck my dick if you were suffocating and there was oxygen in my balls.

I am also highly amused to see their precious Second Amendment and stand-your-ground and open carry laws blowing up in ICE’s fucking faces in North Carolina. The Right, always so arrogant in their firm belief that they are the real patriots and vox populi and that God is on their side, have convinced themselves over decades that the left, wanting common-sense gun laws, hate guns and don’t own any and don’t shoot. Let me introduce you stupid fucks to the deep South, where everyone is armed, pretty much has a room full of guns in their homes, and there are open-carry and stand your ground laws. Those also apply to the government, and if you think you’re going on private property to arrest immigrants you’re going to be run off with guns. After all, hasn’t their entire argument for unfettered and unlimited gun access always been that we need guns in order to defend ourselves against the encroachment of the federal government? And they are surprised that people are using their Second Amendment rights to prevent the feds from overreaching and attacking their neighbors?

And remember, there was a massive influx of Latino/Hispanic immigrants to New Orleans in the wake of Katrina to rebuild the city. Without them, who knows how long it would have taken for New Orleans to be a viable city again? New Orleans doesn’t consider itself to be part of Louisiana, you think we consider the Feds our overlords? Again, let me remind you that 83% of the New Orleans vote went to Harris/Walz, and the same went for Biden, and Hillary before them. Trump’s only friends in New Orleans are the super rich and the Archdiocese (which has also been covering up child rape for decades), and they aren’t going out there to stop protests and anti-ICE activity. Of course, our mayor is a lame duck and has been a grifting useless piece of shit for quite some time now (what is it about being elected mayor here?), and our governor is a such a sad and pathetic “pick me fascist” that he’ll be on his knees before his disgusting god-emperor with his mouth open with a snap of the fingers…I do worry about the safety of our people here, especially our immigrant population (and historically New Orleans has always been multi-cultural and we have large and interesting ethnic populations here; Isleños, Greeks, Irish, Jews, Filipinos, Italians, and of course, the trafficked Africans), but New Orleanians do not put up with shit from outsiders, so it’s going to be interesting.

New Orleans has a very long, and very violent, history–no matter what the metro area white flight racists claim, there was never a time in the city’s history when there wasn’t violence and crime here. They left when the schools were integrated because they are racist garbage–but they sure will tell people they are from New Orleans though, because no one anywhere knows or gives a shit about Metairie, Kenner, Mandeville, and so forth. How many destination weddings take place in Kenner or Metairie? Just asking.

Oh! I watched the first episode of The American Revolution last night, and it gave me a lot of thoughts. I may watch more of it tonight.

And on that note, best to get back to my data entry. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

18 Wheels and a Dozen Roses

Monday morning and back to the office with me today. I slept well last night and feel alive and awake this morning, so huzzah for that at any rate. I don’t know how busy we are today in the clinic, but it’s just me for now and going forward for I don’t know how long and so I don’t know how tired I will be getting this week at work, either. Meh, we’ll see how it all goes, won’t we? It was a nice weekend of not getting a lot done, which is okay. I felt drained yesterday, and very low energy, so mostly spent the day in my chair with Sparky watching research videos1; I also made a lot of notes in my journal, which is always a good thing. I wasn’t particularly motivated, either. I also read for a while into my Donna Andrews book, but wasn’t really able to focus a lot and thus didn’t read much, but it was a nice start. Maybe this week and this weekend I can get the book finished; I can also take it with me on the trip to finish, if need be. It’s hard to believe that next week is actually Thanksgiving already, and time for my lengthy drive up north. Heavy sigh. But it’ll be very nice to be up there, methinks, and despite the inevitable exhaustion and fatigue that will come from said drive, I’ll enjoy spending time with Dad.

And I am not going to worry about writing or doing anything while I am up there, other than reading and resting and relaxing….since that is all that ever happens when I am up there. Which is not a bad thing, I am learning that taking down time to recalibrate and rest and recharge my batteries WITHOUT GUILT is actually necessary, and I am tired of beating myself up all the time because I am not more driven than I already am, you know? One of my goals for this year was to be kinder to myself, and that’s kind of going fairly well. I still slip back into the old, self-defeating mentality every once in a while, though, but it’s not a daily thing and not being anxious all the time is also kind of nice.

I’ve also been paging through The Late Great Planet Earth by Hal Lindsey, and remembering now how stupid the whole thing was when I first read the book when I was in my teens and soaking up conspiracy theories and strange history2; for Lindsey’s writings and interpretations to be correct, they are predicated on two things: one, you have to believe the Bible is literal truth, and that not a single word in it was ever changed over millennia. Considering the original Christian schism (Rome v. Constantinople) was about the West adding words to the Bible…(the filioque controversy) so yeah, that shows Lindsey’s theories, conclusions, interpretations and writings begin with a logical fallacy, and thus, can they really be believed at this point? Please remember that some of his writings in the 1960s have since, all claims to the contrary, been proven false. There’s going to be an absolutely marvelous essay coming out of this revisiting, as part of my essay series on religion.

We also watched more episodes of Lazarus last night, leaving the finale for tonight. I am really enjoying the show, and it is all making so much more sense to me than it was initially; I don’t know how the supernatural aspects of the story are going to be explained, but it’s a fun show to watch, with plenty of marvelous twists and surprises. Not sure what is up for our next binge, but I want to watch Frankenstein before leaving for my trip. LSU plays Western Kentucky this weekend, which may not even be televised, and I am not really sure about other big games coming on this weekend. I am still kind of in shock that Alabama lost to Oklahoma again for the second year in a row, and if they don’t make the playoffs again, their coach is going to be in a very warm chair. There’s a lot of talk swirling about Lane Kiffen leaving Mississippi for either LSU or Florida, but I don’t see it, honestly. Both states have shitty governors and legislators who have no problem with sticking their fingers into the flagship university’s affairs, and he pretty much has free rein up in Oxford. (I stand corrected; LSU is playing Saturday night at the same time as Florida-Tennessee.) It’ll be interesting, I guess.

We also watched the ice dance and women’s finals for Skate America yesterday, which was pretty cool. I think we’re going to field a pretty good Olympic team in figure skating this cycle.

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

  1. Saw a really excellent one about the 1054 Christian schism, when Roman Catholicism divorced Eastern Orthodoxy. I also saw some interesting videos about the birth of Zionism and how the current Middle Eastern problems initially developed, and it always goes back to Rome, doesn’t it? ↩︎
  2. This isn’t the only “conspiracy theory” style book I read and saw the flaws in said theory immediately; I also thought Erich von Daniken’s work and Holy Grail Holy Blood (the basis for The Da Vinci Code, for the record) were full of holes, as were Graham Hancock’s….and I was just a teenager. ↩︎

Da Doo Ron Ron

Sunday, Sunday…can’t trust that day.

I probably should have saved this title for Monday, since the original lyrics open with “met her on a Monday and my heart stood still.” But it will always be a Shaun Cassidy tune to me, even though his version was a cover and reminds me of the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries series that aired in the late 1970s. Ah, to be in my teens again–only medicated properly this time. What a difference that could have made, right?

I left the apartment yesterday morning to walk over to the Marsten House on St. Charles, and I have to say–the experience was vastly superior to the one I had on Magazine, in the Garden District’s version of Walgreens. Including walking there and back, it took a sum total of fifteen minutes, so fuck you, Walgreens on Magazine; you will now be known as the Marsten House on Magazine, and the one a block from my house will simply be Walgreens again. Still not planning on doing much business with them going forward, but the experience was entirely pleasant. Until I got home, at any rate. Remember, I felt good yesterday morning? Well, within an hour of getting home I was running a slight fever and was completely exhausted. Everything aches from fatigue this morning, despite a good night’s sleep, and my alarm kitty let me sleep later than usual, too. (He tried to get me up at the normal time, but when I didn’t? He just turned into a purring kitty cuddle puddle, which made it even harder to get up. My mind was woozy all day, too, so I didn’t get much done other than sitting in my easy chair with football games on, a couple of things around the house (dishes and a load of laundry), and read some more of The Hunting Wives. Paul was out packing up his office all day and didn’t get home until after nine (he’ll be doing the same today, too). Most of the football games were disappointing–LSU lost and played terribly; Auburn lost to A&M; and Arkansas lost to Notre Dame. Georgia-Alabama was a really good game, as was Mississippi State-Tennessee, and Tulane trounced Tulsa. But I wasn’t really vested in any of the games–the fatigue and brain fog thing again–so the LSU loss didn’t really hit as hard as it usually does. So, thanks, COVID vaccine?

And do not @me regarding the vaccine reaction. I work in public health, so let me stop you before you start: I will block you for anti-vaxxer stupidity, and fuck you, while we are at it; fuck you with a razor-blade encrusted dildo. Jenny McCarthy should burn in hell for all eternity for her ignorance and idiocy–anyone who listens to that stupid bitch for medical advice is even worse than she is– period, and fuck you. I reacted strongly to the vaccine because I am immunocompromised because of the colitis, idiots.

I will never understand the mentality that it’s preferable to have a dead child as opposed to an autistic one.

My hips and legs ache painfully. It’s horrible. But my coffee is delicious, and so was my coffee cake. I’m about to make some toast, and maybe a bowl of cereal and get another cup. I have some emails I want to answer this morning–I’ve been ignoring my inbox for quite some time–and of course, there are some finishing touches the apartment also needs to have done. I don’t know what my energy is going to be like throughout the rest of the day, but I hold out hope for a very nice, productive day.

Also? I really miss the time when I didn’t dread checking the news.

I did think a lot yesterday about the book and writing, even if I couldn’t focus enough to write. (The brain fog is absolutely terrifying, for the record. And the memory losses are even worse.) I know what the book needs in order to be finished, and it’s just a matter of energy and brain function. I also watched some videos for research for other projects (and for the book, too), and stumbled across a marvelous documentary about the Manchac Swamp and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. As you may or may not remember, the “curse” also involves the complete destruction of the isolated swamp town, Frenier, where she lived, by the Hurricane of 1915. (It also wiped out Manila Village and the Filipino settlements on the shores of Barataria Bay and Lake Borgne.) I’ve always wanted to write about the hurricane and Julia Brown–as well as the Filipino immigrant settlements, and it occurred to me after watching this documentary (which also talked about the destruction of the cypress forests in the swamp, which has also severely damaged the swamp ecosystem), and as we all know, I’ve been thinking about writing an environmental thriller set down here. Why not about the Manchac Swamp and some murders?

Why not, indeed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday filled with love and laughter and relaxation, and I will be back on the morrow.

Crumbling old bridge in rural Louisiana

Night Spots

Friday and I have to go into the office today. No, that’s the wrong attitude. I get to go into the office today! Huzzah! I am going to keep a positive attitude about this day, even if it kills me! (That’s kind of an odd thought, but so be it.) I got to sleep a little later this morning because I don’t have to be at the office until nine for Staff Development Day–which is the kind of thing I usually hate and consider a waste of my time. (I’ve been there for twenty years…) But I am trying to be more positive about things and life in general going forward–who needs to create more negativity in their life–and so I am going to enjoy myself today. After work I’ll probably come straight home and have a lovely evening hanging out with Paul and Sparky, while tomorrow I will get back to writing. I may read some tonight when I get home; we’ll have to see, I suppose. I also have some errands to run this weekend, too, but nothing terribly horrific or anything. I have to make some groceries at some point–not much of anything, mind you, just enough to get through the weekend, and I have to get the mail. I may wash the car and clean it out while out and about tomorrow. We’ll play things by ear.

The extra hour of sleep this morning certainly helped. It’s Friday and I don’t feel fatigued! That’s a win, methinks, and also a good sign going forward, too. Usually I am very tired on Friday morning, and the tedium of data entry and quality assurance inevitably makes my eyes cross by the time I am done for the day and other than laundering the bed linens, I don’t get much else done on Fridays. I do have a dishwasher to empty and a load of clothes in the dryer that need folding, but I can get that done tonight and out of the way for the weekend so I can focus on finishing the downstairs cleaning I began last weekend. I want to finish reading The Hunting Wives this weekend, too.

I saw yesterday that someone has tested positive for bubonic plague in South Lake Tahoe; woo-hoo! The plague isn’t eradicated, I don’t think, we just don’t hear about it that much (I do know there was an outbreak here in New Orleans before World War I) but I have every confidence in RFK Jr the “health genius” who has done his own research rather than having a medical or health science degree of any kind. (You know, if I believed in that sort of thing I’d say the country is being punished by God for its hubris–plagues, earthquakes, fires, floods…they’d be blaming this all on the Democrats if they could. God knows trash have always blamed that sort of thing on queer people…which brings me to yesterday’s good news.

Christofascist and false prophet James Dobson died, and I sincerely hope that it was deeply painful, while knowing nothing could be as painful as that piece of shit deserved. His hellspawn, who should probably be pitied more than reviled (they were brainwashed into heresy from birth), do carry on the family’s toxic faith/business, but they apparently aren’t all that interested in courting fame the way their unholy father did. (I also find it interesting that Dobson named his daughter Danae–which is from GREEK MYTHOLOGY. No Biblical name for his daughter!) As for anyone saying I am terrible for celebrating the death of a monster? I don’t give a shit. Maybe don’t be a monster before you die if you don’t want to be dragged for the filth you were when you go into the ground.

I may even make a pilgrimage to piss on his grave.

I’ve also been laughing my ass off at the morons so upset that the Minnesota Vikings added two men to their cheerleading team. That is going to be the subject of a newsletter at some point–as will the foul James Dobson.

And on that note, I need to get cleaned up and head in for my day at the office. May your Friday be marvelous, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

The moon over the temple at Luxor

Lust for Kicks

Monday morning and back to the office with me this morning. I don’t feel fatigued, but I also didn’t want to get out of the warm bed or out from under my pile of blankets. But the coffee is going down easily and tastes marvelous, and the Lost Apartment is mostly clean; I didn’t finish the downstairs yesterday so there’s some touching-up still necessary tonight when I get home. I’m hoping that I won’t be too tired to do that necessary touching up. I certainly don’t want to leave it for the weekend, especially since I don’t have my work-at-home day this week since we’re having an “in-service” day so I have to come in.

Paul had a board retreat so he was out of the house for most of the afternoon and into the early evening. I worked on the kitchen and finishing the living room some, had groceries delivered, and made Greg’s Swedish Meatballs for dinner (they were superb; the alterations I made this time were the right ones). I also did some research when I was taking a break from cleaning–hurricanes, the 1970s, gay Hollywood during the days the studio system started crumbling–and also did some reading. I am pleased to report that The Hunting Wives is very well written and very different (already) from the series, which is kind of exciting. I also dipped into Shirley Jackson’s Life Among the Savages, and it staggers me how her writing style, that unique rhythm and voice she had, easily adapts from quiet horror to family humor.

I also started rereading Hurricane Season Hustle, the long-delayed Scotty book (why does it always seem to be Scotty books that get delayed?), and I have to confess that it’s actually not bad. The writing isn’t terrible and doesn’t need a lot of fixing, which is enormously pleasing. I simply have to write five or six chapters, the epilogue and prologue, and put some shine and sparkle on it. I am not so certain why I am always so down on my writing, especially in its sloppy early stages, because my low regard for it is not shared by most. I am working on not being hard on myself anymore–I certainly don’t need to prove anything anymore to anyone–and while I don’t think it’s wrong to think I can do better (because one always can), I need to be a bit kinder about it. Part of the reason I think I’m able to watch these Hurricane Katrina stories and documentaries now is because I am going to be dealing with, and exploring, Scotty’s memories of Katrina as the current hurricane is battering the Diderot House. I think the plot is kind of clever, and I am an award-winning author, after all. Is that confidence I feel? #madness.

We started watching Smoke on Apple Plus last night. It co-stars Taron Edgerton as an arson inspector, and Jurnee Smollett as a police detective assigned to work with him on two serial arsonist cases. It was created and written by Dennis Lehane (remember him? Mystic River? Of course you do.), and the first episode was interesting; both characters are complex and have a lot of issues, and the acting and writing is top notch. The show appears to be a slow burn (see what I did there?), and we are definitely down for watching more. We had an arsonist in the lower Garden District in the late 1990s; the Coliseum Theater was one of his victims as were several other houses in the neighborhood. Fire and water are the two elements that New Orleans dreads–how many “great fires” have there been here, anyway?–and maybe it is time for a novel about fires in New Orleans?

Then again, I’ve already done the Cabildo Fire. The Upstairs Lounge fire, too.

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