Category: history

More Than This

Monday and back to the office with me today. Lovely lazy day just recuperating and laying around, doing things when I felt like it, and basically just had a marvelous time being lazy and resting without feeling any guilt, and did feel worn out all day, like my batteries needed recharging. We had an early dinner with friends I’d not seen in almost a decade, if not more–which was marvelous. Paul is in the final stages of whatever crud he had last week, which is an enormous relief, of course. Yesterday just thinking about getting up this morning and my end of the month duties at the office and had no concept of having the energy to do everything–but this morning I feel rested, awake and alert, which is a very good thing. Yesterday was also the first day of Nonfiction November; so I read the introduction and forward to She Kills by Skip Hollandsworth (I keep wanting to write Hollingsworth!), which whetted my appetite to dive into it some more. I also need to get back to work on writing. I plan on working on a short story every week as well as a chapter of the book; it’s ambitious, of course, and probably overly so, but that’s fine. I don’t berate myself anymore when I don’t deliver on my own plans. I’m also disappointed with myself for not getting pictures of Halloween decorations around the city again this year, but…the weather has changed now, so I can start taking my walks in the evenings and mornings of the weekend to try to get my stamina built back up again so I can walk to the gym. I did get my headphones synced with my phone over the weekend, so I can either listen to books, podcasts, or music while I am walking and/or lifting weights, which would be absolutely awesome.

I was saddened, as so many others were, by the death of Sir Patrick Stewart, a brilliant actor and a longtime queer ally. One of my favorite Stewart performances will always be his supporting turn in Jeffrey, a rom-com-in-the-time-of-AIDS movie; he literally stole the film right out from under his co-stars effortlessly. After the movie came out, people were asking him, fairly regularly, if he were gay and his response was perfect: Why does nobody ask me if I am really a starship captain? I always enjoyed him in everything he did; oh, those classically trained British actors are so remarkable, aren’t they?

Saturday night I really didn’t pay much attention to the college games that were on and didn’t watch any of them, and am not actually sure who all won and who all lost–or who they actually played. I do know, however, that USC beat Ohio State. Aw, what a shame. I blame Vivek Ramaswamy. The Saints were off for the weekend, but this coming weekend is Alabama-LSU in Baton Rouge, which is always daunting. LSU has only beaten Alabama four times since 2008–twice in Baton Rouge, twice in Tuscaloosa, so home field advantage doesn’t really apply in this instance. There aren’t many teams who play Alabama regularly and have a winning record against them; the few teams that do have winning records against the Tide usually only play them in the post-season, and even amongst those there aren’t many. I am just hoping for a good game, honestly. I need to see who else is playing this weekend, too.

I cannot wait for this election to be over because I am so sick to death of campaigns and elections…will we even get a day respite before the 2028 campaigns start? Please note: elections were never supposed to be a billion dollar plus industry. a lot of people make a lot of money off campaigns, which just adds to the utter corruption of the entire process; US politics has become an embarrassment of bribes, corruption, and dirty back room double-dealing. The system has alwys been a morass od bigotry, slander, and smears masquerading as policy–and our uneducated voters will decide to vote based on emotion rather than careful consideration every single time. Imagine being so racist and ignorant that you will vote for inflation, higher gas and energy prices, and a Nazi-like purge of brown people from this country happily because you’re so arrogant you think none of it will blow back on you?

And man, did Michigan dodge a bullet with that piece of shit Haley Stevens or what? Congratulations, you ignorant bitch, for accomplishing something I didn’t think possible: uniting the Democrats behind a Muslim. When even Chuck Schumer calls you out for Islamophobia–girl, you done fucked up in the worst possible way, and blew up any chance of a political future for yourself. People are speculating she wants to torpedo el-Sayed so she can run again against Mike Rogers when he comes up for reelection; that’s never going to happen now, bitch. You can run against him in the Republican primary if he somehow manages to win this race, but the only vote you’ll ever get, you skank, in a Democratic primary will be your own. Although she can always try to run against el-Sayed in six years as a Republican, I suppose–but when you’ve exposed yourself to the world and ripped off your mask to show the craven opportunist that was always there. Fuck you and your fiance, bitch, and for the sake of the rest of the world do not breed. Your outsides, while ugly as all fuck, isn’t as ugly as your inside.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, everyone, and of course I will be here again in the morning.

The rape of Persephone by Hades. Art, with titles like this, is why I thought “rape” meant kidnapping when I was growing up…

The Main Thing

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I feel worn out and tired and in need of rest and a bit of a down day to recover from the overnight in Baton Rouge and the Louisiana Book Festival. I’m not used to being “on” in public anymore–it was always draining–and apparently that is still the case. The drive back wasn’t terrible until I got past the airport, and the skies opened and two hours of thunderstorms and flooding rains for the metro area. It took me about an hour, since traffic slowed to a crawl and in times stopping altogether; visibility was incredibly poor and there was about an inch or two of water in places and in others, more. But it wasn’t raining in my neighborhood when I got home, so I was able to get inside without getting horribly soaked. Paul is also feeling better, which is nice, and I didn’t really pay much attention to college games yesterday. I checked in from time to time on scores, but there wasn’t any game that I was willing to sit all the way through. Instead, we finished AHS: 13 (I rolled my eyes a lot through the episode, which I am hoping is the end for AHS, honestly. It’s been hit or miss for a very long time, and I can’t really complain about Ryan Murphy shows when I have no excuses for continuing to watch them. I guess I enjoy them as “hate watches,” so I do get some joy from them.

The Book Festival was nice, and I had no anxiety. My palms were sweating while I moderated, but my body wasn’t all tensed up, and my panelists–Yoon Ha Lee and Kristen Illarmo–were absolute rock stars; smart, funny, and erudite. It was a pleasure moderating, for once, even though I was almost completely ignorant of the subject. Like I said, Yoon and Kristen made it easy for me, and I actually feel a bit more encouraged to attempt it at some point in the future. I also enjoyed listening to their processes and insights on writing scifi. I feel like I learned a lot from them, which made it lovely. The panel I was on was expertly moderated by Ellen Byron, and I appreciated that experience as well, heightened by meeting the recently Anthony nominated Michael Riggs. I also ran into Ashley Elston, which was terrific, but I didn’t see Farrah Rochon. Alas and alack and all that jazz. Oh, well, another time I suppose.

But the extra hour this morning was marvelous.

Iam also ridiculously pleased with myself for finishing Mazywood before Halloween, so I will finish wrapping up Halloween Horror Month when I post my newsletter about the book. The timing was delightful; and now I can dive into Nonfiction November with a clear conscience. I think I may read the first story in Skip Hollandsworth’s She Kills, which I am looking forward to, and revisiting some other nonfiction classics I already love while also diving into new-to-me non-fiction. I am really looking forward to revisiting some favorites like In Cold Blood and Blood and Money. I love nonfiction, but I so rarely read it anymore that I really need to do something about that, but I’ve been getting my nonfiction and history fix from documentaries and Youtube….but I prefer getting it from books.

All right, I’m going to bring this to a close. I plan to have a non-working, non-anything other than r4est day today, and yes, I’ll most likely do some chores and things around here, but primarily today is going to be about rest and relaxation. Hope you have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, as we move into what passed for fall/winter in New Orleans, and of course, I will be here again in the morning.

Tough Guys

Work at home Friday seems to have rolled around again somehow; this has been a very weird week. I’ve felt off these last few days, like I’m fighting something mild off which could be worse. Paul hasn’t been well this week–he’s doing better now, I was mildly concerned Wednesday night, and had already decided if he wasn’t better when I got home last night I was taking him to the emergency room. Fortunately, he was indeed better–still not 100%, but much better–so Nurse Sparky is doing his job. Sparky has also been sleeping in the bed with us at night, which I love and have missed (Skittle and Scooter loved sleeping in the bed with us) but I suspect that’s not a behavior pattern shift and more that he could sense we both weren’t feeling the best. I slept very well last night, and feel rested and good this morning. I have a meeting this morning and work to do at home, and I need to pack and drive to Baton Rouge later on. I’ll probably leave here so I get there around three thirty. There’s an author party tonight, too, which I am intending to attend, so wish me luck on that score. A party where I don’t know many people? Ordinarily that is something I would skip, but…anxiety medication, and we’ll see how that works.

Remember the other day, when I mentioned how Kristopher had alerted me to the existence of all three seasons of Friday the 13th–The Series on DVD? Well, Constant Reader, I ordered them and they arrived Wednesday, and I am really looking forward to watching the entire thing in order. Seriously, y’all, it takes very little to make me happy. I also picked up a copy of Skip Hollandsworth latest collection of true crime reporting, She Kills. Hollandsworth is my favorite non-fiction crime writer (behind Sarah Weinman, of course) and is why I subscribe to Texas Monthly, because he writes for them. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe November should be Nonfiction November; it will help me get through some of the nonfiction collecting dust around here–and I can reread some old favorites, too, like The Real Lolita, In Cold Blood, and Blood and Money. I can also read some more horror this month too, before Noirmas Season1 rolls around again in December.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

I’m glad I feel so rested and good this morning. Yesterday was quite a day at the office. The clinic was slow but we were short-handed for walk-in testing, and so I had to pitch in and help our; we were also doing incentivized testing for young Black people, so I saw more people than usual yesterday and was very tired by the time I got home from work, so didn’t get anything much done last night other than bonding with Sparky, watching some news (I am optimistic about Tuesday, but am prepared for disappointment as well as shenanigans), and resting. I made soup for Paul, and we watched something but for the life of me, I cannot recall what it was this morning–that’s how tired I was last night. Obviously, there was no reading, editing, or writing done last night, and no cleaning. I do have to do something about the apartment before I leave today, which means not being lazy. So, I am going to do some quality assurance before and after my meeting, and probably will only put in a few hours for work today so I can clean up this mess.

I think the most disheartening thing I’ve seen lately is the “vote blue even if they are pro-Ice, approve of the mass deportations, thinks Biden was a failure, and thinks the trans community should be thrown away like trash” straightsplanations to people who, I don’t know, think people have the right to privacy, dignity and compassion? I’ve seen this all before–remember Sinema? Fetterman? Someone who will say shit like that in order to get elected but doesn’t mean it is someone we can trust? “Oh, a Democratic controlled Congress would never bring that to a vote? Remind me again how hard the Democrats fought for HIV/AIDS research in the 1980s again? I love how people will explain to other people why it’s okay for your rights to be put on the chopping block when it has no impact on them in the lest…Americans though, always have to have someone to punch down on, and it is absolutely hilarious that they are telling us, yet again, that this country’s founding principles are a fucking joke to them. It’s true–we learned this in the last three presidential elections. Funny how the people who were single issue voters in 2024 who got us into this fucking mess “because they can’t support a genocide” by electing the person who’d make it worse and are now supporting a different genocide and lecturing us on our civic duty. Excuse me, smug fuck-face with the unwashed ass, how fucking dare any of you lecture queer people? About anything?

Need I remind you of the fucking gay male genocide of the 80s and 90s?

Seriously, you’re lucky you don’t pull back a fucking nub.

Clearly I am feeling better because I can feel rage.

Never forget the right’s primary goal is to roll back everything for everybody who isn’t a conservative white man. Always expect the absolute worst from them–and frankly, the Left isn’t much better. I am predicting this now: if the Democrats do take back Congress and leave Schumer and Jeffries in charge, we might as well have not bothered to vote, because those two corporate shills are unworthy of leadership roles and are compromised. Period….which will mean a Republican sweep in 2028, more Heritage Foundation Supreme Court justices, and a Trump dynasty installed in the White House…do we need more Trumps in power? No, we don’t, and I hope I’m wrong, but we don’t need milquetoasts, we need a Ted Kennedy in the Senate and someone similar as Speaker.

Americans never learn.

And on that note, my work is calling to me, so I am going to bring this to a close and get back to it. Have a lovely Friday, and I’ll probably check in with you again in the morning before the panels, but it will also depend, and it may be short. We’ll see!

  1. This year, I intend to revisit Mildred Pierce, both book and movie. ↩︎

Don’t Let Him Go

Here we are on a chilly Tuesday morning (I love our autumn here), and the week is progressing nicely. We weren’t terribly busy in the office, so I was able to get a lot of admin paperwork taken care of, which was very nice, and I am getting geared up for this weekend. I should probably check when my panels are, shouldn’t I?

Fascism is on the run all over the planet–first Hungary, now Brazil and Serbia, and may we as Americans take their lead this time. (It’s wild to think how different of a world we would have now if this administration was in power when Germany invaded Poland in 1939) I’m not getting my hopes up for a blue wave, frankly; I’ve been fooled by polls before, and I’ve learned a hard, if horrible, lesson.

Apparently Harrison Butker can’t even do the one thing he’s good at. It’s almost like God don’t like ugly, you know? The right-wing curse, aka Everything Trump Touches Dies, does seem like a thing, doesn’t it? People seem to forget–Americans aren’t known for their memories–his first term, which, although horrible, seems almost tame in retrospect. (I like to remind people that Baron Harkonnen went to the LSU-Alabama game in 2019; the Tide lost at home for the first time since 2015.) Americans aren’t the good people we fooled ourselves into believing we are; we are the worst people, seriously, collectively. We are extremely self-righteous about our freedom and moral sanctimony, too. No wonder the rest of the world finds us unbearable so much of the time–and we’ve certainly lost what little decent reputation we had in the world. Are we great again yet?

And yet another Democrat running for the Senate in Iowa, one Josh Turek, decided that a week before the election was an excellent opportunity to out himself as a transphobe and a homophobe (they go together hand in glove, sorry not sorry). Was it necessary for him to do so, after Annie Andrews showed what she was made of a few weeks earlier? It’s an easy step from “insurance, including Medicare and Medicaid, shouldn’t cover trans people–make no mistake, that was what he really said–to “fuck marriage equality.” It’s amazing to me how so many people miss the boat with this stuff; has no one actually read and understood the fucking poem “First They Came For”? Saying anything to get elected –which is what his supporters are saying Oh he just had to say that–did he? How many votes did he gain from his anti-trans ad (which I will make sure follows him–and Andrews, too–for as long as I am alive, at the very least) and how many queer people might stay home in Iowa now? They are so quick to slice off a significant part of the base for any reason whatsoever–and then will wonder why there’s no enthusiasm for their campaigns? How can we trust him not to be another Manchin, Sinema, or Fetterman? We can’t.

Health care for all, bitch, includes trans people. Fuck him and the wheelchair he rode in on. Yes, I said it, and I will say it fucking again. A bigot in a wheelchair is still a bigot, right, Madison Cawthorne? Greg Abbott? Need I go on?

I for one am sick to death of having my community’s vote taken for granted by politicians who will gleefully flush us down the toilet for a couple of bigot votes. This has never been a winning Democratic strategy, because who else will you flush for expediency? At least he showed us all who he is, so we can look forward to him, if elected, blocking progressive legislation. Is another Fetterman 2.0 a winning strategy? My years of loyalty and support for\the Party–I’m registered as a Democrat so I can vote in Louisiana primaries, but I am not a centrist and I am tired of timidity and “change is very slow”–are dwindling with every latest betrayal. Seriously, do I honestly believe Chuck Schumer and Hakeem Jeffries aren’t going to bend over and lube up their asses for the administration? If they were good at their jobs 2024 would have had a different outcome, and yes, I do believe that. They are both hacks and owned body and soul by their donors. They aren’t going to push back on anything; they may send a few strongly worded emails…what have they done for the last two years? And don’t give me that “they don’t have any power!” when Republicans, when in the minority, have gummed up everything. Obama has a pretty good record, sure–he wasn’t the greatest at everything–but what about the Democratic congressional record of the last twenty years? We haven’t had a liberal lion who could get shit done since Ted Kennedy died.

If there is a Blue Wave, watch people like Durek derail any and every thing progressive that comes over his desk, and then watch the base get dispirited, disappointed, and stay home in 2028. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Heavy sigh.

But state of the world aside, I had a very lovely day yesterday. I did some more writing and editing last night around being a Sparky bed, and worked on the current essays in progress–The Amityville Horror and Mazywood, which I need to finish reading–which was fun. I do enjoy writing, and hope to dip back into the book tonight. I am loving this cooler weather, which is my sweet spot–and my favorite time of year in New Orleans. I am also doing some research and planning of the next Scotty, which I am kind of itching to get back to.

And on that particular note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy your Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

Karnak Temple at night

Impressive Instant

Friday morning and in a bit I am off to the office for a meeting before I run errands on my way home. It has been a pretty decent week, in all honesty. I didn’t sleep as well as I would have preferred, but that happens, and I think I was drinking coffee after twelve noon the last couple of days, which could be the cause. Caffeine and I walk a very thin line together; too much makes me sick, and if I drink any after noon I won’t sleep as well. So it goes in the life of a senior citizen. But I did sleep through the night, and feel pretty rested and good this morning (I think my body doesn’t know I am going to the office in a moment, or maybe the extra hour this morning made a huge difference).

It did rain a bit yesterday (and more so while I slept, given how wet everything outside appears to be), and now that I work in a testing room with a window (it faces Elysian Fields1) the temptation to just sit there and watch the rain is very powerful. I am a sucker for rain, always have been, which is yet another reason I love living in New Orleans. I lived in California for eight years and I can’t even remember it raining there, which was awful. The rains of Houston, where I moved next, were awesome though. Unfortunately, that meant the humidity returned after it stopped and the sun came back out. Wednesday it was in the 80s most of the day, but when I left the office it was pleasant out–meaning no humidity–and it wasn’t hot inside the car, either. I managed to get home and into the house without breaking a sweat, and it’s been months since that last happened.

Well, the always problematic Joyce Carol Oates showed her entire flat, unwashed ass by claiming the only genre where AI would be useful would be romance–which she claimed was formulaic and thus of no value, apparently–which is such a disgusting thing for any woman to say, especially one as famous and respected and praised as Joyce Carol Oates. Way to shit on an entire genre, which is predominantly for women and dominated by women. Surely, Ms. Oates doesn’t mean to imply that she hasn’t written anything formulaic, does she? Because I cannot believe every single thing that has come out of her typewriter has been so completely original and never done or tried before and had has advanced modern literature by breaking new and important literary territory? Or is she just another one of those women who dislike other women? I know some of her buddies are misogynist pigs, and despite all evidence that her buddies are garbage, she proudly stands by them. Probably thinks she’s also a feminist while playing pick-me to be one of the guys. I don’t write romance, but I know a snobby bitch when I see one. I don’t need to boycott her because seeing her clearly as a tool of the patriarchy, I stopped reading her.

And I don’t kiss anyone’s ass, no matter how “powerful” they appear to be. It’s easy to shit on a genre when you’ve never written in it–and frankly, because a HEA is de rigeur, romance writers also excel at character, dialogue and place; no one’s going to read a romance that doesn’t affect their emotions because then it wouldn’t be a romance. I would like to challenge every elitist writer who thinks romance is a joke genre to write one. Let’s see exactly how easy it is, shall we? I remember a few years ago when that South American literary writer wrote a thriller “as a joke” but then published it; shitting all over our genre because, you know, she’s so above it. Turned out mystery fans weren’t going to support a snotty, arrogant elitist bitch anymore than a romance fan would.

I may not write romance, and I don’t read a lot of it. But I have edited a lot of romance novels, I appreciate the skills and talents of romance authors, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for them. I may write one someday, not to see if I can make “easy money” (there’s no such thing in this business), but to see if I can actually do it well. I like challenging myself when I write, and I think writing a romance would be a great challenge for me. Someday. I need to finish the current book and write another Scotty before I start the horror novel I’m itching to start writing.

You come for the romance genre through me, bitch.

I didn’t do much around here last night when I got home because I was tired. I came straight home and crashed out immediately into my chair with Sparky in my lap, and I just kind of zoned out with the news–both national and football. Today is my last full day in the office for the week–we have an in-person meeting tomorrow morning–but the good news is the house isn’t in bad shape, and so won’t take me long this weekend to set to rights. I am dragging a bit this morning, which is to be expected on a Thursday morning, right? I slept pretty well the last two nights and have no trouble getting up in the mornings, but I remain a bit tired throughout the day, and maybe not as alert as I would like by the time I get home every night? Thursday nights usually are nights when I don’t do much of anything; but I do have to get up early tomorrow for the meeting. I need to get back to work on writing fiction–the book and some other short stories, but it’s the newsletter essays I’ve been enjoying writing the most lately, which is odd–but I also think writing those is helping me improve on my skills.

Yesterday was also October 1st and the official start of Halloween Horror Month, when most of my reading and streaming will (and should be) horror. I definitely want to watch Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street again, and maybe pick up on some new ones. I really wish Friday the 13th-the Series was available to stream somewhere, because I’d love to watch it all again; I don’t think I ever saw the entire show. But the antique store of cursed objects–and having to track the objects down before they start killing people–was a most excellent concept, and while the show was done on the cheap–it was syndicated back before money was put into syndicated shows–the few episodes I’ve been able to track down on Youtube are a bit hokey, but there’s still a lot of fun to watch. I love dedicating the entire month to horror; even my juvenile rereads this month will have to do with hauntings, methinks. I think AHS:13 airs its entire season by the end of October, which is nice. It’s also weird to think next Friday I’ll be heading up to Alabama for Mom and Dad’s birthdays, and then up to Kentucky for the rest of that following week. This month is going to fly by, isn’t it? And then it’s November and then Christmas and then Mardi Gras and it’s March before I know it.

And ugh, I agreed to moderate a panel at the Louisiana Book Festival, so I have to do two things up there this year. Given the cost of gas, more bang for my buck is probably a good thing. I’ll probably end up going up on Friday and spending the night; there’s an opening party that night I usually skip, but I’d rather do that then get up early Saturday and drive up there…which means booking a room. Add that to my lengthy to-do list.

The local New Orleans gay community is up in arms over something I cannot really speak to without making the following disclaimer: I do not speak for my day job, I am not authorized to speak on behalf of my day job, and I am speaking here solely as myself–Greg Herren, the local gay author who has lived here for over thirty years, moving here before there was life-saving treatment for HIV. If you want to see what’s going on, feel free to go on Facebook and look at either the Queer New Orleans page or certain Quarter bars. I can’t speak on the situation and again do not speak for the agency where I work, but I would like to thank the local gay community for your support and the pushback against the businesses attacking us. I forget sometimes how important we are to the community here, how much good we’ve done (and continue to do), and how much the community actually appreciates us. I thank you, and the supportive commentary I’ve seen was touching–and you know how cold and dead inside I am.

And you know, even if I didn’t work where I do, I would also be grateful to my agency. As a sixty-five year old gay man who lived through the worst of the plague days, I have nothing but respect and appreciation for any organization that does HIV work. Anyone who doesn’t? Absolute trash–and if they ever seroconverted, you can bet your ass they’d be beating down our doors2 for our help.

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

  1. The street, not the land of the heroic dead. ↩︎
  2. And this, for the record, is why you never fucking hire straight people to run gay businesses. Period. ↩︎

Don’t Tell Me

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel…slacker-ish this morning for some reason. Yesterday was a simply lovely day, from beginning to end, and I did manage to get some things done. Paul went to a show last night in the Quarter–a work thing–and so I was here all by my lonesome after about half-time or so of the LSU game (they won; GEAUX TIGERS!), and there were a lot of interesting games and outcomes yesterday, too. I did some reading, some writing, and some cleaning, and somehow wound up staying up later than I’d intended. I also got up later this morning than usual; but that’s also on me. The Saints play this afternoon, and I need to run to make groceries at some point this morning, too, but that’s not a big deal. I just need to get motivated.

Good luck with that, Gregalicious.

As I mentioned, LSU won, beating Texas A&M handily 35-6. It was only 14-3 at halftime, but again the Tigers had a big third quarter and put the game away. The defense looked impressive, and the offense misfired a few times, but overall, the Tigers looked dominant. We also don’t know how good or bad Texas A&M is this season (they lost to Kentucky in College Station last week)–but we also don’t know about Mississippi, either, after Florida embarrassed them in Gainesville yesterday 52-28 (!!!). Auburn beat Vanderbilt, and I caught the end of the Mississippi State-Missouri game, which MSU won with a strong defensive stand in the fourth quarter. I watched Texas-Tennessee, which came down to the last play, and Georgia embarrassed Oklahoma (shame) while Alabama buried South Carolina. I also caught the highlights of Iowa winning at Michigan and Wisconsin surprising Penn State. Overall, a very exciting day of college football. LSU takes a break from the SEC next weekend, playing McNeese State, while there are some other great games, too. I do love college football.

And yes, yesterday morning during the battle of the orange-and-white UT’s, I finished the first draft of my story, which pleased me to no end. It’s about forty-one hundred words, but they are mostly good words, and now I need to edit and revise. Again, it’s a very long shot, but I do enjoy writing, and it’s always nice to make very good progress on something. I may do some editing this morning after I post this and before I summon the energy and motivation to actually make the grocery list and head to the store. I also need to order some things to be delivered this morning, too.

While I mostly managed to avoid the news yesterday, I did occasionally check in on social media to see what was going on and that’s when I came across the horrific story of the Cornell 7….remind me about the masculinity crisis again? The real masculinity crisis lies in how they treat women, and so many of them fail. Cannot IMAGINE why so many women would choose the bear, can you? It’s hilarious, I’ve been trying to work my way into my newsletter essay about masculinity and my failures to be the traditional male in this patriarchical society and finally realize something about myself while reading up on the Cornell horror (and yes, there’s a rapist on the LSU football team–which is appalling–but I am not talking about that case because I’ve not had a chance to “do my own research,”–but I fail to see any research or reading that would make LSU look good, frankly)–the reason I didn’t feel particularly boy-oriented was because I never understood why we weren’t supposed to like girls at all, and that didn’t change after puberty, either, when girls were reduced to their breasts, ass, and fuckability, which is also part of the reason I wrote #shedeservedit, and now I have some more things to discuss there. (And no, I’m not saying my view of women wasn’t curdled by exposure to male-centering and women-dismissal; I’ve said and behaved in ways towards women that are toxic, but I learned and would like to believe I’ve unlearned a lot of my upbringing and social pressuring.)

I spent some more time yesterday with The Dead Zone, and John Smith is one of my favorite Stephen King characters. I am remembering, too, while I reread how much I’ve always loved this novel and how big of a fan I used to be (not getting into it now, or maybe ever), and that incredible run of great novels he had from Carrie through Misery. Maybe I should revisit another one, too? It’s been a while since I’ve revisited Firestarter….

I was reminded yesterday also about Richard Speck. He murdered nurses in Chicago when I was five years old, and I remember the horror vividly (I also remember when the news broke about Sharon Tate and the other victims on Cielo Drive in the Hollywood Hills). I’ve never read up on the Speck murders, but I read Helter Skelter as a teenager and it was terrifying–I’ve generally avoided reading anything else on the Manson family since. I remember, in both cases, how upset my mother was–a rural country girl living in Chicago with generalized anxiety disorder–and again wonder how much it must have terrified her when we weren’t home. Mothers worry, of course, but I wish I’d known when she was alive about the anxiety; I would have worked harder to ease her mind. (I also believe the anxiety shortened her life, but…she did make it to eighty-one.) Does anyone know of any good books or writing about Speck?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and GEAUX SAINTS!

To Have and Not to Hold

Friday work at home day blog and here I am in the Lost Apartment, sipping coffee in between the windows. Sparky’s sleeping in a puddle at my feet and I am very excited for the day and the weekend. There are some excellent games to watch on Saturday (GEAUX TIGERS!), and of course, tonight there’s a new episode of Traitors: New Blood, which I can’t wait to see. After bingeing so many seasons, it really is torturous having to wait a week for a new episode. Heavy sigh, but that’s okay, really. Bingeing has really changed how I watch television, hasn’t it? We had started the new season of The Gentleman on Netflix last week, but despite the appeal of one Theo James (Christ, there should be a law against being that pretty), I didn’t get into the season 2 premiere, and haven’t exactly been itching to get back to it for some reason. I was thinking I might go back and watch the earlier seasons of The White Lotus so I’m not mindlessly scrolling through Youtube videos. It’s not only addictive, but it’s time consuming.

I worked more diligently on the short story last night, and almost have my new first draft finished (even though I am using the same title, the same story but with a different perspective, which I think is working). I am pretty pleased with it; it’s a very strong draft I should be able to get finished later today. It’s amazing how much I enjoy writing, but my process has changed–as I have changed–and it takes me longer to write than it used to. I used to be able to average about three thousand1 per writing day when working on a book; short stories are a different animal, but I don’t remember it taking me this long to complete a first draft of a short story; it’s a do-over of one I finished years ago but couldn’t place anywhere, so I tore it all apart and put it back together completely differently. I personally think it works better now, but I won’t be surprised if the anthology I am writing it for doesn’t accept it. Not that it isn’t good, but it’s not the kind of crime story people usually are looking for when compiling an anthology of them.

When Paul got home last night, we finished watching a documentary called A Killer Story, which is wild; true crime documentaries are absolutely terrifying to watch, especially when you see how easily a prosecutor can convict someone entirely on a theory with little to no evidence to corroborate their theory of the crime. Documentaries, though, can easily be manipulated to convince the viewer of their point of view, something I’ve noticed before. (One of Americans’ biggest fears is wrongful imprisonment, along with not being believed; being wrongly accused of murder and put on trial is definitely terrifying.)

I slept pretty well last night, even if Sparky got me up before seven. I’m a bit physically tired this morning–the Achilles tendons again–but I know once I get cleaned up I’ll feel more recharged. I have a meeting this morning, after which I am going to go run some errands. It being 9/25, the Krewe of Dolly is having a second line in the Quarter today for our departed Queen, Dolly Parton. If I could walk that far, I might have gone down to participate; it’s the kind of fun thing New Orleans loves to do at the drop of a hat. I also saw last night that Jamie Davis has come within four points of beating Julia Letlow, the Harkonnen and janky governor endorsed corrupt piece of MAGA shit, and Louisiana is getting fed up with all of this bullshit. Turnout will be key in Louisiana; if the Bill Cassidy supporters who are still pissed over the MAGA turn on him don’t vote, or vote for Davis…we could have our first Democratic senator from Louisiana in over twelve years. The data centers in north Louisiana and the spaceport on the coast and all the NDA’s everyone involved signed (Letlow owns stock in both companies) so the sweetheart deals Janky Jeff gave them will never be exposed has even Louisiana voters, notoriously blasé about political corruption, aren’t happy about how blatant this all is…it’s so blatant it’s insulting. And the way Janky Jeff keeps fucking with the LSU athletic department isn’t good, either.

I am cautiously optimistic about the midterms, but know there’s going to be some fuckery involved.

And on that note, I am going to have some breakfast and take a shower before starting my work day. I’ll run errands this morning after our meeting, and then come home from that to sit in my chair and go over paperwork this afternoon. The coffee is starting to kick in, too. So, on that note, tis off to mine spice with me, and will return again tomorrow morning. Have the loveliest of Fridays, Constant Reader!

Ah, the beauty of youth. But they just look like pretty children to me.
  1. On the other hand, last night I managed over two thousand words, which wasn’t bad.
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Nothing Really Matters

LSU lost last night to Mississippi, and wow–the world didn’t end. It was disappointing, to be sure, but I don’t go on the emotional roller coaster that I used to, and that’s a much better way to be a football fan, methinks. No need to foam at the mouth or jupup and down or scream at the television. There weren’t many surprise outcomes yesterday, other than Kentucky beating Texas A&M, right after the Aggie crowd cheered Pete Hegseth, and why was he even there in the first place? Remember, the UT fans booed and embarrassed Ted Cruz, and won. Everything they touch dies, seriously. Alabama needed a hot minute before pulling away from Florida State, the Georgia-Arkansas game was so bad I couldn’t watch, and it sounds like Florida-Auburn came down to the wire, maybe being even the best game of the weekend. (I also didn’t know before that Lane Kiffin had played at Fresno State, either.) The Saints game with Baltimore is on at eleven this morning, and I’ll probably turn it on while do other things; I did a lot of cleaning yesterday while Paul was out, which was nice and very overdue.

I really do like this being old meaning you have less fucks to give about shit. No one told me about this side-effect of getting older…maybe I’ve finally become wiser? Nah, not likely. Just don’t really have any extra energy lying around that I can waste on things that really doesn’t matter anymore, or things I can’t control. (I always tried not stressing out about things I can’t control, but before medication, that wasn’t the way my brain was wired.) Hence, not being angry or super-disappointed about LSU losing last night. I’m still going to watch games every weekend; part of the fun of being a football fan is seeing how the season plays out–which is the more graceful and adult way to approach the season.

I did manage to reread The Stepford Wives yesterday, while taking breaks from cleaning and game-watching during the earlier games of the day. I had just revisited the book and wrote about it last year on this blog; I may write about it on the newsletter today, I don’t know. But there are other points to be made about the book and films, and I can go in more depth in the newsletter than I could with this blog. Ira Levin was absolutely one of the greats, and what he was able to do in his novels with so few words was a gift from the gods. I hate that I am unable to focus enough to read something new; I am going to try again this morning with The Shards. I also want to reread The Miracle at St. Bruno’s as a way in to talk about the Tudors and all the reading about them I used to do, and of course, Mary Stewart’s The Ivy Tree is also sitting there in my Kindle.

I also watched this week’s Real Housewives of Orange County, which keeps limping along and somehow escaping cancellation. The new season of The Traitors has also already dropped its first episode, and hey announced the cast for the next season of celebrity Traitors for the US, and it includes Bianca del Rio! That news more than makes up for them casting MAGA skank and Charlie Kirk worshipper Kristen Chenowith, who is probably trying to rebuild her image after she revealed her true skank self last year. I’d want to be a traitor in that season just to make her the first murder.

And on that note, I am going to get more coffee and repair to the easy chair for a bit, so I can wake up a bit more and do some reading. I also hope to write today, too, so we’ll see how all that goes, won’t we? I will, however, see you again tomorrow morning bright and early before I head to the office. Till then, have a marvelous Sunday however you spend it.

This is what we call in Louisiana an allée–a straight unpaved pathway through. matching trees or shrubs. It’s a very fun word that I want to use more.

Substitute for Love

Friday morning work at home day, with a trip to Costco on the horizon for later. I feel good and rested this morning, despite the fact Sparky tried to get me up around four in the morning for some reason. I did wake up, gave him a look, and went back to sleep while he cuddled with me, which was lovely. I was physically tired when I got home from work last night, so didn’t do much of anything other than writing. I did managed to get a (very) rough draft of that pesky chapter–which still needs some work–which has kind of log-jammed me these past few weeks. My goal for tomorrow is to edit everything I have done so far, preparatory to moving on to the next chapter and reacquainting myself with the characters, the voice, and the story. Woo-hoo! There are also a lot of great football games tomorrow, capping off with the one-two punch night games of Florida-Auburn and LSU-Mississippi.

The amazing thing to me about this Ed Sheeran thing is that it keeps going, and every day and hour it continues to go on the worse he looks. That’s what happens eventually when you’re more interested in being inoffensive–you wind up offending everyone. The fact that so many people he’s friendly with (and works with) are in the Epstein files kind of shows how morally and ethically compromised he is. When I was watching the news last night, I saw someone–I don’t remember who–talking about how entertainers, like Sheeran, are the modern day version of “bread and circuses” from the old Roman Empire (first time I have thought about the Roman Empire in days, if not weeks, for those keeping track–entertaining the populace and keeping our minds off everything else going on in the world. They keep us distracted (look at social media sometimes; it’s why there’s so much celebrity worship) so we will spend money and not see what the Epstein Class has done (and continues doing) to the world and society. Ed Sheeran got very rich doing his part to entertain and not talk about anything substantial (although the white children of Ukraine got him to be political)–he even says it in his pitiful “it’s not my fault” Pilate handwashing statement (“I want to provide a space for love and peace and escape”)…that’s very telling–and it’s hard to look at any of this and think Sheeran has any values, has any compassion or empathy or is, at heart, a decent person. He fucked over a friend at the bidding of a billionaire, has tried to deflect his part in this from day one, taken no responsibility for anything, and shows that he stands for nothing but the Epstein class he continues to make money for.

Does that sound like someone we should support? Christ, Ireland hates him now.

This entire situation is a classic example of what is fucking wrong with this country: a billionaire who diddled kids got his widdle fee-fees hurt, and he stamped his foot in anger and demanded he get his way, and he got it. They are above the law, an unelected and unchosen ruling class no different from the old British aristocracy, entitled fools with too much money who didn’t give a fuck about anyone other than themselves, while people went hungry and sick and died while they gambled away small fortunes at night while too drunk to see.

And the fact that both Sheeran and Robert Kraft are too privileged to shut up and stop digging their own graves just adds fuel to the fire. Sheeran went along with the silencing and suppression of a voice because it upset a billionaire.

That tells me everything I need to know about the Gingerdoodle.

And that’s it on this subject1–I’ve given too much time and energy to this nonsense already, but this naked abuse of money and power is infuriating to me, and always will be.

Ah, the coffee is now kicking in. I want to get another newsletter finished this weekend, clean out my email inbox, and of course, work on the book some more after I get my work duties done today. Costco and the other errands will undoubtedly wear me out, so I won’t do much tonight when I get home from all of that, other than finishing the laundry which I am starting this morning. I know the new season of The Traitors dropped its first episode last night, and there’s something else starting up again that I like watching, but can’t think of it right now. I also want to read a bit this weekend–which reminds me! The other day I mentioned a copy of The Miracle at St. Bruno’s, and I said there would be more later…and forgot.

The Miracle at St. Bruno’s is a historical Gothic set during the turbulent reign of Henry VIII and the great divorce–and how what was going on at court politically affected those every day citizens who had no control over the ever-changing legality of, well, everything. The Tudors were my real entryway into world history (or rather, modern European history) because Henry VIII was such a fascinating monster. I read a lot of Tudor biographies, but the only historical fiction I had read up to that point was mostly fictionalized biographies–history as entertainment–of royal Tudors. I even read a biography of Lady Margaret Douglas, one of the lesser known but crucial pieces of the Tudor body politic and the very thin line of succession that Tudor sterility caused. Philippa Carr was the by-line on the book, but it was another psuedonym of Eleanor Hibbert, a British writer who also published under the names Victoria Holt and Jean Plaidy. It was vastly different from another other Gothic I’d read, taking place over the course of about thirty to forty years, with the turbulent reigns of successive Tudor vastly differentiating in their religion and policy. It was also the first in a series called Daughters of England, because she wrote about the main character in Miracle’s sequel–each new book a new Gothic romance featuring the daughter of the previous book’s main character–and history and politics are also driving forces in those books as well. I may start a reread this weekend; I need to get back to reading fiction again.

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

Live oak stumps always fascinate and sadden me. The size is impressive, and they are beautiful to look at…but the sadness is from the tree being cut down. Our live oaks are so beautiful here in New Orleans, and we’ve lost so many in the thirty years we’ve lived here.
  1. I do love watching people reap what they’ve sown, you know? ↩︎

Take a Bow

Thursday morning and I got up before my alarm, wide awake and feeling rested. Weird, right? On a THURSDAY last day in the office for the week morning? Madness. Sparky is also being super-affectionate this morning. He keeps wanting to sit on my shoulders, so he can head-butt me and purr up there while I walk around doing things. I don’t mind, I just don’t know why he is some mornings and some mornings he isn’t. Of course it doesn’t make sense because cat, but I can’t help but try to make sense of it, because I ain’t right in the head, you know?

Last night wasn’t bad. I headed uptown to pick up the mail (my copy of The Miracle at St. Bruno’s that I got from ebay, more on that later) and swung by the grocery store to make a few bags. I came home, Sparky needed a lap, and that was the end of that. I watched news and examined my new book–a paperback in pristine condition, like I picked it up off the rack at Zayre like I did my original copy–and watched the news—along with any number of videos ripping Ed Sheeran1 and Robert Kraft new assholes. Paul brought a pizza home for dinner, which was lovely, and we watched LSU-The Difference on ESPN, a documentary series they are filming for this season (think ESPN isn’t all in on LSU? I don’t they are doing one for every top team in the country, and there wasn’t a guarantee LSU would be any good this year, and really, still can’t be sure how good they are anyway at this point). I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home and put everything away, but…I slept very well for the first time this week, and it felt marvelous. I think we’re going to Costco tomorrow after work, too. Huzzah!

I’ve fallen down a wormhole of Internet research thanks to a Facebook friend who shared a post about a “ghost ship” that can be seen under the right conditions on the Tombigbee River in southwest Alabama, the Eliza Battle. The ship was a classic steamboat of the era (which I will always associate–steamboats, that is–with Mark Twain), transporting cotton bales and passengers when a fire broke out in the cotton and the entire ship went up in flames before sinking. I like the idea of a ghost steamboat (I am also partial to steamboats, maybe I should write about that sometime), which could make an interesting story. I love these old folk tales of Southern states, and feel like some of them could be used to write novels or short stories; I’ve been trying to write one about the legend of Freniere and the 1915 Hurricane, which wiped the town out, for years now. Learning Alabama and Louisiana history, legends, and lore is ever so much fun, too!

Has the entire world gone mad? After the Pink meltdown, the Ed Sheeran disaster, and Arch Manning proving he has no home training, I pretty much thought we were done with ignorant celebrity bullshit, but Sarah Paulson decided to say hold my beer and gave an incredibly tone-deaf white woman interview, in which she expressed disappointment that her Black male costars on The People v. O. J. Simpson got movie offers and she didn’t–she was trying to make the point that it’s more difficult for women to get parts in movies because those roles are few and far between for women, whereas male-centered movies are a dime a dozen. It was tone-deaf to make the comparison with two Black actors, who face an entirely but equally horrifying different kind of fight–yes, they are men, but they aren’t white men. And she left out the most obvious reasons producers don’t think about her when they’re casting–girl, you’re an out and proud lesbian. Hollywood is not only misogynist and racist, but it’s also incredibly homophobic. It’s getting better, but there are still an endless amount of problems in that “liberal” community.

Speaking of homophobia, I kind of love that congressional candidate Chris Gallant did, in his pre-politician life, posed in BDSM gear and there are also pictures of him on Fire Island in his underwear. YAWN. He’s running for a House seat on Long Island, is an openly gay former Marine and firefighter…and the only thing his MAGA opponent can come up with is him posing for some sexy pictures that exposed nothing prurient and was in the past…newsflash: most gay men, have sexy photos of themselves, in bathing suits at the very least, and more have nudes than a straight person might realize. I also love that he’s being defiant and refusing to be shamed out of the race. Pictures in BDSM gear doesn’t mean you’re into BDSM, and if you are, who the fuck cares? ANd seriously, the party of MAGA and the buffoon they worship has some fucking nerve trying to morality police anyone. Yo, you’re party leader is a pedophile rapist psychopath. Why don’t you start policing him? Anyway, I donated a little to his campaign.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely, lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning on work-at-home Friday!

  1. I’ve taken to calling him “Gingerdoodle.” ↩︎