Category: history

Talk to Me

Monday morning and it’s still cold. Go figure. Parades start this very Friday, and if it’s cold, well, I won’t be bold. I am not going out there to get sick from being out in the cold, and besides, I’m old. Maybe it’s all that history I read where someone old caught a chill that developed into pneumonia and death within days. As much as I joke about it, I am not in any rush to leap into my grave (or the crematorium, as it were). I just don’t like being sick–and last spring I was sick enough to last me for a lifetime, thank you very much. I am about ready for this cold to take a serious hike. Although apparently tomorrow’s high is going to be seventy? But then it gets cold again for the rest of the week, but not nearly as bad as this weekend and today are going to be. Layers, layers, layers.

Yesterday morning was disrupted by the power outage. It was only out for an hour, but it was enough to disrupt the day and throw it off track. I did read in bed under my blankets with my coffee until the power came back on, which was lovely. After which, I went downstairs and read while watching the news. I was pleased that Carlos Alcaraz won the Australian Open (I am no longer a fan of anti-vaxxer Novak Djokovic). After Paul got up we finished The Night Manager before moving on to His and Hers, which is interesting so far. I do enjoy Jon Bernthal, so there’s always that. (I didn’t like his take on American Gigolo, which could have been really great, but we didn’t finish.) I didn’t get a lot of anything done yesterday, overall, but I did get some chores done and the house won’t take much to look orderly. We’ll see how I feel when I get home. I have to make groceries on the way, but that’s not a big deal. I have some dishes to do and such, but other than that and straightening out the kitchen rugs, I think I am pretty caught up on the house? There’s no laundry left to do, the dishwasher is empty and ready to be loaded, so once I put away the groceries, I can do that.

The news, for the most part, has been good lately–or at least, better than it has been. This weekend’s Epstein reveals were staggering, and are only going to continue to get worse and worse. Murder? Rape? Torture? Cannibalism? How nice that our modern elites looked at Caligula’s court and said “hold my beer”, right? I mean, we’re still living under a fascist government, so the news can only be so good, you know? Minneapolis is still under siege, the Supreme Court continues to be a joke on the regular, and day by day the trash that voted for him to “own the libs” are slowly peeling away from him because the hellish policies of the mad king are affecting them, too–which “isn’t what they voted for.” Aw, shucks, sugar, we warned you and you mocked us–and while I am pragmatic enough to understand we need them to turn on all of this and vote it out; but that doesn’t mean I am forgiving anyone. Even those of us who voted for the lady with the weird laugh own this, too–because we’re Americans, and we could have done more to stop this. None of us get to say we aren’t responsible for this because it is our government, we’ve allowed this all to happen, and now we all have to come together to rebuilt it all back together and clean up this fucking mess.

That was part of the reason I wanted to watch Judgment at Nuremberg again–we haven’t finished, we only got about forty minutes into it–because of the entire notion of societal responsibility and guilt. After the war, the common German people–who’d seig heil‘ed and gone to the rallies and threw flowers and cheered the military parades–weren’t allowed to look away from their government had done in their name. The question of “true believer” or “too afraid to say anything” is something that can never really be answered. I was born sixteen years after the war ended in a neighborhood filled with war and post-war refugees from eastern Europe. I was shown the military films of the freeing of the camps in elementary school. I learned very young that fascism and Nazism were both evil. My childhood and teens were filled with stories of the MOSSAD tracking down Nazi war criminals, all over the world. There was a lot of World War II historical fiction out there, too, and even more fiction about Nazism rising again out of the ashes of history–William Goldman’s Marathon Man, for one, and Ira Levin’s brilliant The Boys from Brazil–and I did see Judgment at Nuremberg in my teens, which got me interested in the day-to-day German people, how the scourge rose to power, and what they lived through and experienced. We were taught that Nazis and fascism and antisemitism were societal evils…and that we Americans, with our freedoms and our democratic republic, were morally superior. (We were not–and in our American arrogance we also believed that such a thing could happen here.) Now we are in a situation (again) where our government has turned us into a rogue, authoritarian wannabe dictatorship–just as the Roman republic declined into an autocracy. Don’t blame us! we post on social media in response to foreign scolding, we didn’t vote for this!

How does that make us any better than the former supporters saying this now? The American penchant for dodging responsibility is perhaps our worst, most narcissistic, societal and cultural flaw.

And on that somber note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and try to stay warm if you can.

The dragon float arrives at the Orpheus Ball

Sable on Blond

And now it’s another abominably cold Sunday morning, and its back to the office with me again tomorrow.

Sparky was hungry so I got up around six, staggered downstairs and fed him before heading back up to the warm nest of blankets in my oh-so-comfortable bed. I woke up again at seven, went back to sleep, and when I woke up again, the power was out. I gave Sparky some treats, got my book, and went back up to bed–no power, no need to be out of bed, right? I read a few chapters of The Secret of Hangman’s Inn, a reread of an old Ken Holt mystery for kids1 before the power came back on, and I did have some thoughts–about how danger is real in these series, and yet–but it can wait until I finish. The kitchen is still very cold this morning–I am going to have to get a space heater down from the attic this morning because it is so fucking cold in the kitchen/workspace.

That’s the lengthy explanation of why this is being written and posted so much later in the morning than I usually do–my daily routine was disrupted and I am trying to recalibrate my discombobulation and turn it into something productive. The house is kind of messy; I didn’t really do as much cleaning yesterday because of the cold and used that as my excuse to not do much of anything, really. I was busy watching Youtube videos about Melania and enjoying numerous cruel laughs at her expense. Iy wasn’t the best week for the treasonous MAGA trash, was it? May it continue to get worse and worse by the week, day, hour and minute. As for the “I didn’t vote for this” assholes, yes, you fucking did. Every single one of you is an accomplice before the fact to everything that has happened since 1/20/25. We warned you, over and over, and you laughed in our faces and said fuck your feelings.

Which is exactly how I feel now. Fuck your feelings, You voted for this, stop whining and live with your fucking decision. You want absolution for destroying the country? Drink fucking bleach, or get to work fixing this mess, shut the fuck up unless you’re doing the actual work, and fucking bite your tongue whenever you feel like fucking whining again. They’re coming for Obergefell, just like we all said they would.

Oh, the Melania documentary? I’ll wait for the one from Dateline, thanks.

Apparently we are also in a boil water advisory, because a water main in Uptown–in either Riverbend or the Black Pearl, they didn’t say the neighborhood only the streets, and I am not confident about my neighborhood boundaries anymore, since realtors seem to invent new neighborhoods and change the boundaries on a daily basis. I have plenty of water on hand–thank you, Britta pitchers I always keep full–but in all honesty, I am surprised there weren’t more, given how cold it was, in all honesty. Our infrastructure is all so old and crumbling it’s a wonder the city functions at all.

We started rewatching Judgment at Nuremberg last night–can’t imagine why–after getting caught up on The Night Manager–and I actually went to bed early. All this extra sleep and my daily routine being disrupted has been kind of an interesting departure from normality. I should probably consult my to-do notebook, shouldn’t I, as I head into the spice mines this morning? Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning again before I head to the spice mines tomorrow.

  1. The Ken Holt series is one of, if not the, best kids’ mystery series. Part of tmy reason for this reread is to write an essay for the newsletter about Ken Holt and why it was such a favorite of mine. ↩︎

Rock a Little

Monday morning and it’s back to the spice mines with me this morning. There are worse things I could do, one supposes. The cold has arrived; it’s only 29 outside and I can absolutely tell as I swill coffee and shiver a bit here at my home workspace. Sparky has been glued to me since I got up–although why he isn’t cuddled up with Paul in the bed is indeed a mystery to me; that’s where I’d be if the alarm hadn’t gone off and I could have slept another few hours, comfy and cozy and warm under my pile of blankets. But I am awake, it’s not terribly cold inside (it could be worse) and we didn’t lose power, which is a big plus. That was my primary concern–the loss of power and no heat, like that year we didn’t have heat and it froze on Mardi Gras day. Shiver. That was beyond miserable, and not an experience I would like to relive at any point in my life.

This is my first full week of work this year so far–I think; there may have been one earlier that I’ve forgotten about, but it’s been a hot minute since I’ve had to go into the office four days in a row. I don’t think I have to work in the clinic this morning, but have been wrong before. Either way, it’ll be fine. I do hope Dad and the rest of my family in Kentucky have power and are safe and warm and staying inside. They are–I just checked the power outage map up there. Whew. It’s really not feeling too terribly cold this morning; despite the low temperature, but my hips, ankles and Achilles tendons are aching this morning. The most fun thing about being old when it gets cold is these aches I never used to have.

I found myself in a bit of malaise yesterday; more of an emotional exhaustion than anything else. The state of the country and the world just got to be a bit overwhelming for me this weekend–the existential horror of everything was a bit too much and it kind of got to me. What can I say? How are you coping with the daily burning of the Constitution by the fascist administration? I couldn’t focus to write–I did take some notes, but when thinking about anything that I am currently writing, it just seemed kind of pointless and frivolous. I know we need art and literature to help people get through these horrifying times, and feeling and expressing and creating joy in dark times can be a beacon of hope for people trying to cope…but sometimes, I just need to accept that it’s overwhelming and sometimes it causes paralysis. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday other than do some dishes and just mindlessly watch political commentary or old sports highlights or history videos while paging through a non-fiction history (The Fall of the Dynasties, to be exact). I did watch the I Want My MTV documentary–the cultural impact of MTV in the 1980s cannot ever be overestimated–which was kind of fun and had me remembering the early days of it and how we were all addicted to it back then.

One of the few bright spots of this year so far has been the enormous reception to Heated Rivalry, and how its two young stars–Connor Storie and Hudson Williams–have become global superstars in a matter of weeks. I was happy to see they got to carry the Olympic torch in Italy, which was incredibly cool for them. I wish them nothing but the best, and I have to say that I am absolutely delighted for them both, for the show, and the representation. Can we also drop the “but it was written by a woman!” nonsense? Regardless of the politics of who writes who and what is or isn’t cultural appropriation and so forth–which is far too nuanced to be discussed in 120 characters or whatever the fuck the limit is on those Twitter-style social media apps–can’t we just enjoy the fact that a show about two men falling in love is the hottest thing on the planet right now? Can we stop being concerned about straight people watching and their opinions, and whether or not they’re pandering for views or clicks?

I would like to take a moment to remind everyone that the biggest selling gay novel of the modern post-Stonewall era was The Front Runner by Patricia Nell Warren? I knew Patricia very well, and I can assure you that she was definitely not a man.

Heavy sigh.

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me for the day. Wish me luck on the day–who knows what it will bring in its wake. I’ll be back tomorrow, though. No worries!

If Anyone Falls

And the holiday has arrived. I slept well last night, and didn’t want to get out from under the covers, which were so incredibly comfortable this morning. I can tell that it’s cold outside my windows as I sit swilling my coffee and chowing down on my coffee cake. I wore tights under my sweat pants all day yesterday and that was very cozy yesterday, too. I should probably run an errand this morning, but I am also thinking it can wait maybe until tomorrow? I don’t know if the groceries are open today–grocery employees should get holidays, too, you know–but it will not hurt me in the least to give it the old college try. Yesterday was a very nice day. I wasn’t tired or achy at all–I usually am good by Sundays of my weekend–and I did manage to get some things done. I worked on the books and made progress, filling up two boxes of donations to take to the library sale this coming Saturday, and there’s at least enough pulled out to fill another box today, too. I did some picking up and cleaning yesterday, and also worked on organizing computer files. I watched some documentaries on French history, caught up a bit on the news (always dreadful) and read for a while, which was a lovely start to getting back into reading again–and I am going to carve out some time this morning for reading, too. Huzzah!

The other day on social media–I don’t recall if it was Bluesky or Threads–but Saeed Jones had discovered the wonders of Maldon brand sea salt and was sharing that information–before moving on to fancy gourmet style butter. I had already discovered the magic of Kerrygold butter (someone talked about regarding tariffs earlier last year, so I got some and was completely sold on this bougie butter), but there were some other brands mentioned that I’d not heard of, so I’d been trying to locate Maldon salt here locally (Rouse’s claimed to have it, but I didn’t find it in either of the two stores I frequent) and some of those bougie butter brands; I was planning on making baked potatoes last night, so I thought why not make them completely bougie? I didn’t find any of the butter brands, but got some more Kerrygold (including a stick of garlic and herb butter!). And yes, the Maldon salt is amazing. I am completely sold on the bougie salt! Now I am thinking of getting some of that pink sea salt they have at Costco…who knew there was fancier salt and butter all this time? Regular salt and butter are, of course, perfectly fine; but yeah, the bougie stuff is pretty damned good. Thanks, Saeed! And they say no good can come from social media! I laugh in their face HA HA HA HA HA!

I also decided to rewatch my favorite episode of Heated Rivalry yesterday–Episode 3, “Hunter,” which is the almost self-contained romance of Scott Hunter and Kip the smoothie barista. This was the episode when I became truly vested in the show, and committed to it emotionally. It was so well written and acted, and their chemistry together was incredible, sweet and intense, and I was in tears by the end of the episode, just as I was when I originally watched it. It’s such an excellent episode, and it definitely left me wanting more when I finished. It was even better on the rewatch, and I caught things I didn’t the first time. (I had seen that people were rewatching the show, and while I certainly can’t commit to the time required to watch the whole thing again, I thought “hey, I can watch this episode again!”) SPOILER: I was absolutely delighted they wound up together after all, with Scott publicly kicking open the closet door. I do hope we see more of Kip and Scott in future seasons! I’ve loved Francois Arnaud in everything I’ve seen him in (The Borgias….sigh. He was so good as Cesare), and this new young actor playing Kip is gorgeous, charismatic, and may even have the best body on the show, which is saying alot.

I also spent a lot of time scribbling free form in my journal yesterday, something I’ve not done in quite a long time. It was nice to let my mind wander and let my hand scribble. I’ll have to look at it again today to see what was running through my mind yesterday while I idly watched my French history documentaries (mostly about Cardinal Richelieu, Louis XIII, and the Thirty Years’ War–I also watched a good one about James I and the Duke of Buckingham). Once we’d had dinner, we finished Seven Dials, which seems to have a different ending, among other things, than what I remembered–but I could very easily be wrong. I’ve always loved the character of Lady Eileen Brent, and maybe that’s why I remember the novel so fondly, but I know for sure I loved The Secret of Chimneys and have reread it numerous times during my Christie era. We then started season two of The Night Manager, which is a lot of fun, and Tom Hiddleston is certainly not a problem for one’s eyesight.

As I mentioned, I did spend some time with The Secret of Hangman’s Inn and the new Eli Cranor, Mississippi Blue 42. The Ken Holt series is one of the highest bars in juvenile mystery series, and probably the hardest boiled of them all. I can’t wait to write about Ken Holt again! Mississippi Blue 42 is set in the wild world of college football, with a pair of FBI agents investigating criminality (paying players). Eli is a terrific writer, his debut Don’t Know Tough was set in the world of high-pressure high school football, and I am way behind on his canon…and spending some time with this book is reminding me of how much I love his work.

And on that note, I should probably get going with my day. I am going to try to be productive, but at the same time I am not going to kill myself getting things done, either. So, have a great day while I head into the spice mines.

Screenshot

Smokin’

Pay the Bills Wednesday has somehow rolled around again, and yes, there are bills to pay and errands to run and all of that fun stuff for me after work this evening. It was cold again yesterday, but this time I was smarter and wore layers. I don’t think it was as cold in the office yesterday as it was Monday…but again, that could have simply been layers. It’s also not as cold this morning as it has been, and I am wondering if I should do the layer thing again today anyway; the office has been horrifically cold this week for some reason. A quick check of the weather app on ye olde phone and no, it isn’t going to be in the forties. I slept well last night, so I feel very rested and awake this morning–a pleasant surprise, actually. I came straight home from work yesterday, and of course, had to play with and cuddle with Sparky, as he won’t be denied. I got caught up on the horrible news before watching another episode of Run Away, a particularly twisty show we are enjoying, despite the annoying male main character’s toxicity, and then it was off to bed for me.

I also managed to get my latest newsletter (which you can read by clicking here if you so desire: America America), which is about my passion for US History and watching the Ken Burns documentary, The American Revolution, which I watched last month and enjoyed. I also found it timely–it reminded me and its viewers of the noble principles of freedom and liberty from oppressive government with which this country was founded–in spite of its legacy of enslavement and genocide, we’ve never really achieved the democratic utopia the founders envisioned (because of the enslavement and genocide)–and whatever this is that we’re living through is about as far from that utopian (for white men) ideal as we ever have been. The so-called “melting pot” theory of the United States has always been kind of bullshit, hasn’t it? The nation of immigrants that slams the door shut on immigration? Just horrific.

Scott Adams, the sad tragic piece of shit who blew up his successful career in comic strips by being very publicly an asshole and turning off the majority of his readers, died this week from prostate cancer. However, as a true MAGA believer he of course distrusted medicine and used quack medicine from quacks to treat it, only for it to not work and to start proper treatment too late: a suicide by stupidity, if you will. The only reason I mention this is his death triggered a post on social media by Kevin M. Kruse, noted US historian, reminding us all of Bill Amend and Foxtrot, a strip I used to absolutely love but had forgotten about, so I subscribed to get his weekly Sunday strip. Huzzah! (Adams, a bottom-feeding scavenging scum piece of shit, also converted–in theory, anyway–to Christianity to save himself from the flames of hell…which is the thing about Christianity that is so bogus to me. You can live your life as the most hateful asshole on the planet, convert on your deathbed and still go to heaven? While someone else, who spends their entire life doing for others and helping people, will go to hell because they didn’t convert? Fuck that shit.)

Which again begs the question: which Christian franchise is the real one? Sigh.

But over all, it’s been a pretty good week overall, as we head into yet another three day weekend.

Erich von Daniken also died recently, which was kind of weird; I was surprised he had only just now passed, to be honest. I have been outlining an essay around the subject of weird takes and lore, beginning with Chariots of the Gods and going on to the Bermuda Triangle and numerous other strange books about strange theories or occurrences that I read a lot about when I was growing up and how those weird books–many of which I didn’t really buy into because of the poor scholarship and lack of actual evidence. But they were interesting ideas and theories that triggered my imagination and anything that does that is worth reading.

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

If We Make It Through December

Sunday, as we slowly transition from Yule season into Carnival, and I have to go back to the office tomorrow. Paul is coming home sometime today–I can’t find his flight schedule, but he usually comes back late in the evening; I may even go to bed before he gets home. Some greeting, right? But I have to get up at six tomorrow morning, he knows that, so I won’t worry about that now. I’ll see him after work when I get home from the office. I didn’t do a whole lot yesterday; I did some chores and ran a couple of errands (it was gorgeous yesterday) and when I got home, wasn’t terribly motivated to do much of anything. I did keep doing some cleaning and organizing and filing at various intervals throughout the day, but there’s still a lot to get done this morning/today. I feel more awake and alive this morning than I did yesterday; perhaps the drinks on Friday night and the walking did wear me out a little bit, even though I wasn’t expressly fatigued. My batteries were a little low, is all. I also have to be careful not to overdo anything because I feel better, you know? I also partly blame it on Sparky, who wanted to sleep in my lap all day, the sweet boy.

I also need to make a new to-do list.

It was surreal yesterday to check in and do my morning blog post and then check the news to see that “Donald the dove” (right, Maureen Dowd? How do you show your face in public, you tragically evil and clearly shameless hateful piece of shit?) had started a war all by himself! And people want to forgive his voters for being conned? No thank you–I’ll carry those grudges to the fucking grave. I am completely incapable of feeling empathy (and I am very empathetic) for the people who joyfully and gladly voted for every last bit of this agenda. Oh no, miss me with your “I didn’t vote for this.” Yes, you fucking did, and you mocked everyone who tried warning you before hand. Where are all those people who told me I was overreacting in 2016? In 2024? You deserve to be reminded of your gleeful ignorance and hateful disrespect every fucking day for the rest of your fucking lives. I sure as fuck didn’t vote for any of this bullshit, yet have to deal with it because YOU wanted to “own the libs.”

NO ONE IS LAUGHING NOW. HAPPY? No? Ever heard the phrase “you reap what you sow”? Well, now you’re reaping what you sowed and you don’t seem very happy with it. Live with the shame and utter humiliation of your public ignorance and stupidity, and you get no sympathy or pity from me–and there will certainly be no forgiveness ever coming from me.

Hope you kept your diapers, ear tampons, and golden shoes! Hillary was only wrong in underestimating how many of you were deplorable pieces of shit. Although, there is something almost comically ironic about the fall of the United States’ experiment in democracy coming from the small hands of an uneducated bigoted pedophile rapist. Well done, white people, well done.

And yet I still have high hopes that this will, all evidence to the contrary, be a good year. I feel weird about that, to be honest; how can I feel positive about the future in the face of all evidence to the contrary? It feels weird to be feeling good about myself and my life, making plans (tentative, as so much is out of my control) and just in general being happy and pleased with myself? I think I have one more year to stay away from conferences and so forth, to continue working on myself and my work and shaping up everything in the directions I want to take, before I return again to the wild world of mystery conferences. I think Bouchercon is in DC for 2027, and so I will probably go to that.

I did watch a lot of videos on Youtube yesterday–some historical stuff (the Ptolemaic dynasty of Egypt; Cleopatra’s sister1; the Valois dynasty of France), some interviews and reviews of Heated Rivalry, and sports “commentators” on the collapse of Alabama in the play-offs, or the SEC “not being what it was.” I also don’t–and have never–understood the mentality of “my conference is better than yours” arguments; they are pointless beyond any metric beyond winning the championships. The Big Ten has won two in a row, and could be winning a third in a row this year, with three different schools. That’s impressive, indeed. Of course, the SEC did that from 2007-2010 with four different schools…but that’s also the past. One of the biggest problems I have always seen with college football is the polls–because being a brand name is the most important thing with the polls. Ohio State was number one for how long, and how long was Indiana ranked behind them, only for Indiana to beat them? Indiana isn’t a brand like Ohio State or Alabama–although that may be changing now. Preseason polls are meaningless now, just like any polls before the playoff rankings and any bowl game that isn’t a part of the playoffs–which is why you cannot look at bowl results as a metric of conference strength. Many players opt out of the bowl games now because they are meaningless, so bowl teams are often not the same team from the season. Toxic fandom is just another phase of toxic masculinity–and women can be as bad, if not worse, than men.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich and see what all is going on in the world today, before I get back to work on cleaning.

  1. Arsinoë IV has always been of interest to me, as was Cleopatra’s older sister Berenice. ↩︎

She’s In Love With The Boy

Tuesday morning, New Year’s Eve Eve, as it were, and Paul is leaving today to visit his family. I don’t much care for it when he isn’t home; maybe the first day or two are kind of nice and quiet and peaceful, but it starts getting on my nerves after a couple of days. It’s also amazing how empty the house seems when he’s out of town. Although, I suppose one day it might be something I’ll have to get used to? I will cross that proverbial bridge when I get to it. So, I will come home to an empty house tonight, and Sparky will glue himself to me for the next six days. There are worse things, I suppose, than cat cuddles on cold nights, and having a little tortie shadow following me around and never letting me out of his sight. I’m glad I only have to work tomorrow–Friday is my work-at-home day still–because he will be very traumatized when I get home after work tomorrow. He’ll not be so bad tonight–he won’t miss Paul until he doesn’t come home tomorrow at all. He really is the sweetest boy, and I’ll have to give him a lot of attention.

Which I do not mind in the least.

I found out yesterday that one of my dearest friends (and biggest supporters) passed away a few weeks ago. She’d been ill for a long time, so I hadn’t seen her in quite some time, because she had low energy and heart issues, and I am a lot (I am). I had actually thought the other day about her and how we needed to get over there to catch up and say hello…too little too late. Heavy sigh. The worst part of getting older is losing loved ones to the angel of death. That was the part I never thought about; I guess I was assuming everyone I loved would outlive me.

Apparently, that’s not going to be the case and I’ll probably wind up living to a hundred. Which would be just my luck, you know? I just keep going on and on, shouting at clouds and forgetting what I went into the kitchen for. Hurray. But I will miss her terribly. Oh, how hard she could make me laugh! And so incredibly smart, too; I loved talking to her about books and movies and television shows we enjoyed. She was a huge mystery fan, as well as holding a PhD in History (I’d jokingly call her “Doc” every once in a while, which she hated–I don’t know why I enjoy teasing people so much; I should probably stop).

Sigh.

But with Paul gone, I can watch some things I’ve been pushing off but meaning to get around to–my re-watch of the Brendan Fraser Mummy movies comes to mind–and there’s no excuse for not being able to get back into reading extensively again. I’m enjoying the two books I’ve started, but am not making much progress. My Noirmas was a complete bust, but I did get to reread The Postman Always Rings Twice, and I have some essays to finish for the newsletter. Noirmas is technically not over until Twelfth Night, January 6th, so I have time to get some of these other choices read before starting my next reading project, whatever it might be. Maybe some non-fiction? I’ve got some awesome non-fiction books on hand; maybe I should dig into those? Nonfiction February? That could be a winner, and I can then extend Noirmas through January.

I also am not certain why I am so focused on projects, but it makes me happy, so there’s that.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely New Year’s Eve Eve, Constant Reader and I shall be back on the last day of 2025!

I really hate his bikini….but the rest is nice, isn’t it?

There Stands the Glass

Sunday, and the last day of this rather lengthy weekend I was blessed with this year. I didn’t do the things I had hoped to do yesterday morning when I was drinking coffee and being hopeful, but before I knew it, it was nearly noon and I decided to go ahead and get the new television set up, while learning to use it. I also slept in this morning, despite Sparky’s best efforts, despite planning on getting up much earlier that I actually did. No sense crying over spilt milk, though, is there? I do feel good this morning, and that’s always nice. My coffee is tasting marvelous, and yes, I have some chores to get done, especially the kitchen–don’t ask–so I will try to get that done while I work on writing.

It took me a while to get the television put together and up on the mantel, which was no small feet since it was just me and it is a 65″ television. But I didn’t want to wait for Paul, and I did get it all set up; it’s a “smart television,” which concerned me at first as I was certain I wasn’t smart enough to set it up…but I managed somehow. It was just a little time-consuming as the software needed an update, and so forth and so on, but by around two-thirty-ish it was operational and I felt comfortable using it, and its remote. And Constant Reader, it is enormous. The picture quality is so sharp, it seems like people are in the living room for me to watch. It also takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to its sheer size…but it will make science fiction shows look amazing (I watched the opening of The Force Awakens just to see, and wow!), and the Winter Olympics…yeah, I would have never thought about getting a new television, but I am very glad we did. I watched the LSU game last night on it–I see this morning they lost; I was falling asleep so went to bed after halftime–and the picture quality! Yes, I am very pleased we got a new television. I think the old one was almost ten years old? Practically archaic in technology terms, right?

When I think about the changes in technology I’ve seen during my lifetime…it really makes me feel old. I’ve seen too much! I was thinking about this last night–triggered, no doubt, by my delight in the new “smart” television–and how limited we used to be with entertainment options. If you didn’t see a movie when it came out, you had to catch it when it went to television (remember network television premieres?) and hope it wasn’t butchered by television censors (see Cabaret as a prime example) too badly. Even the advent of cable didn’t change things that much; we were still tied to when things aired. It was the same with books. It never occurred to me, ever, that if they didn’t have a book I wanted in the store I could just order it. (It wasn’t terrible; I inevitably spent over a hundred dollars every time I went into a bookstore.)

I didn’t read anything yesterday; I don’t know why, but after setting up the television and taking all the packaging (so much packaging!) out to the trash, I was revisited by the malaise. I watched a lot of videos on Youtube (fall of Rome; the Ptolemaic dynasty in Egypt, etc.) while not really doing much of anything other than free form writing in my journal. I was also trying to remember things I enjoyed in 2025 in order to do a year-end summary; the memory isn’t what it used to be…but the biggest thing was finally finding out what’s been wrong with me for so long and finally getting it treated. It’s been a journey, hasn’t it? And one I didn’t even know I was on until this past spring when I got so sick and had to be hospitalized. The six days in the hospital was a hard reset that enabled me to catch my breath and think some more about everything, remembering that only I can make changes to my life that I need to make and the only way to do so is decide what changes to make and how to go about making those changes. It was also a kind of wake-up call, a reminder that I don’t have as much time left on this planet as perhaps I might want. So…maybe the year end round up might be more philosophical? We shall see.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning before going to the office.

The End of the World

Don’t they know, it’s the end of the world…it ended when you said, goodbye…..

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and a lovely day, indeed. I slept really late this morning, after a big day of getting things done and running around town. I got up in the morning and did some chores (still need to unload the dishwasher), so have a bit of touching up to do today to make it look nice again. I ran some errands in the morning, picking up the mail and getting my present to myself (new LSU house shoes), caught up on the news, and then we went to Costco, where we got our new television…it’s ENORMOUS, and today I am going to spend a little time getting it all hooked up, trying to remember passwords, and hopefully it’ll be operational for the LSU bowl game this evening. We didn’t do a BIG Costco run, but we picked up a few things. Paul is leaving Tuesday and coming back on Sunday, so there wasn’t any point to doing a big shop there. I ordered pizza from That’s Amore in Metairie to be delivered, and we settled in for a nice evening watching the season finale of Heated Rivalry (more on that later), before Paul went up to work on the upstairs while I watched research videos on Youtube.

As I said, Sparky let me sleep in until after nine this morning, which was wild, but doing all that yesterday wore me out, I guess. I wasn’t tired at all yesterday, but clearly went to bed and slept for over ten hours. So, 2026 is clearly going to be, and needs to be, about getting myself into better physical condition, which isn’t going to be easy at sixty-four going on sixty-five. But I look forward to this new challenge! One of my primary goals for 2026 is definitely going to be getting myself into better physical condition. I don’t care about losing weight or how I look; I just want to be able to do things and not exhaust myself. Now that the over-arching fatigue has finally come to an end, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore, but I need stamina more than anything else. The stamina is getting better–I didn’t have to collapse into my easy chair last night when we got home, for an example–but clearly, I depleted energy reserves that needed to be recharged over night. There are some things I need to do that I could do today, but I don’t know that I’ll get to them or have the motivation to do them. I mean, the television itself is going to be an enormous, if necessary, pain in the ass–just remembering the passwords for streaming services and other apps is going to be nightmarish and will undoubtedly wind up with me having to reset any number of passwords. Heavy heaving sigh. I do want to get some reading and writing done today, too. I think I’ll finish this, put the dishes away, and read for a while before getting cleaned up and setting up the television.

So, Heated Rivalry. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this final episode (until 2027), but what we got was a very sweet episode that ended with the boys ultimately coming out to Shane’s parents. This is a perfect set up for the next season–they are a couple now, with a plan to keep things quiet publicly, coming up with a charity they can start together as well as Ilya changing teams to Ottawa, so they will live only a few hours apart–which I was wondering about. I know the book series focuses on a different couple with each new story, so I was wondering how that would work–would they do a Bridgerton, or will they continue to focus on Shane and Ilya? I enjoyed this show a lot more than I expected to, honestly; I would also recommend it highly. I’m not going to go into more detail because I am going to do a newsletter about it, trying to ground it within the realm of queer media representation…and how glad I was that it wasn’t an American show, which never seems to really (with a few exceptions) get things right.

And I still have another day off! Whee!

And on that note, I am going to let Sparky have my desk chair and head into the spice mines to read for a moment. Have a great day, and I’ll be here tomorrow–probably earlier.

I love misty nights in New Orleans…

Baby Now That I’ve Found You

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. I only have to go into the office today and tomorrow this week; the schedule is absurdly (almost ridiculously) light in the clinic for the next two days; somehow I’ll make it through to my lengthy holiday weekend. I feel good and rested this morning, too. It was a very lovely and peaceful weekend, and I managed to get a lot done (and I am not qualifying that anymore by decrying what I didn’t get done). Baby steps to a healthier me, which was one of the goals for 2025, wasn’t it? As a new year looms, it’s also time to start thinking about my goals for 2026…

Yesterday was rather nice and lovely. Sparky let me sleep in yesterday morning, and I did some chores throughout the course of the day. It was, as always, lovely to come down this morning to a mostly clean kitchen, with only a few things left to do tonight when I get home to reestablish order in the kitchen. Now that I’ve got the downstairs under control again, it should be a lot easier to maintain, which means I can spend time cleaning the stuff I never get around to–baseboards, windows, etc.–and I should probably take the car to the car wash at some point during the holiday weekend. I’ll have to still run errands, of course, but after I get Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve–we’re getting a deep dish pizza from That’s Amore out in Metairie–I should be able to spend Wednesday and Thursday without having to go anywhere. Huzzah, indeed! It was also gorgeous outside; it was in the high seventies when I ran yesterday morning’s errand. I think it’s going to be similar today, too.

The Saints won, which is three straight wins after a disastrous start to the season, which helped set the tone for a nice day. I also started reading yesterday, easing into reading Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue Forty-two and Bruce Campbell’s The Secret of Hangman’s Inn, the sixth Ken Holt mystery–both of which start very well. (The homoeroticism rampant I remember from the Ken Holt series is also on full display in the opening chapter, too.) I finally finished my newsletter about Laurie R. King’s O Jerusalem yesterday, too, and if you are so inclined, you can read it here. I have another one I want to do about General Hospital; I’d already started one months ago, but Anthony Geary’s death made it seem a bit more timely now than it was before (I hadn’t known they’d killed off Luke Spencer on the show, either, when he retired–in case he wanted to come back. Not that dying on camera on a soap means anything, of course.); I’d watched the show as a child with our babysitter, but got back into it when Mom started watching after we moved to Kansas–and I came back to the show when it was Number One rated and firing on all cylinders…which was before many people today were alive.

Another yikes, right?

Speaking of yikes, what the hell hath CBS wrought with the hiring of the ultimate mediocrity, Bari Weiss, to run their news department? That town hall with EriKa KirK was an absolute joke–and from everything I am seeing and hearing, their progress down the path to hell has no good intentions to pave their way. One thing that the last ten years has brought with it is the loss of any credibility that mainstream legacy media had; they’ve utterly abdicated and shat all over the legacy of good journalism and the First Amendment. They will never recover any credibility, and maybe that’s a good thing? I don’t know, but this all goes back to Reagan; today’s monster was conceived in his rotting brain, and that was where it began.

We did watch Murder in Monaco this weekend, which was quite interesting and fun; about the murder of Edouard Safra in Monaco in the late 1990s. I remember reading Dominick Dunne’s reporting on the case in Vanity Fair back in the day, and of course, Dunne suspected that the male nurse (arrested, tried, convicted) was being framed by the “black widow” Lily Safra, who had an earlier husband also die under very mysterious circumstances. This update on the case, with more revelations and more information on the aftermath that is very enlightening, is very interesting.

I also worked on some short stories yesterday, which was pretty awesome. I am trying to get some stories ready to submit by the end of the month, and so yesterday I worked on fleshing them out and making them stronger. The three I am working on, and hope to finish and submit, are “Even Katydids Dream,” “Come Sail Away,” and “No Security Provided.” I also have a historical story to polish for another anthology, and I think I am going to try to hit up both EQMM and AHMM in the new year with new stories. Very fun, indeed.

I also paged through Creole: The History and Legacy of Louisiana’s Free People of Color, from LSU Press, edited by Sybil Kein. There’s so much about Louisiana and New Orleans history and culture that I don’t know, and if I am going to write stories (and/or novels) set in New Orleans history, I need to understand it and have more knowledge of it; and this collection of historical essays about the Free People of Color, and how old Louisiana/New Orleans society was structured, will help me with that. (Although paging through it yesterday made me see some seriously archaic and racist language, which I suppose should be expected when reading about the past down here.)

I am looking forward to the holiday vacation, in all honesty; even if I don’t get as much done as I would like (which is very likely, since it always happens), but it’s also nice to have an easy time of it during the holiday season. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Enjoy your Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow, on Christmas Eve Eve.

Remind me again, MAGA and Fox News, how Christmas is “under attack.”