Category: horror

Don’t Stop

Midweek already? Time has no meaning to me anymore, really. It’s going to be October long before I’m ready for it. How crazy is that? I’m still having trouble wrapping my mind around it being football season already. There are some good games this weekend (LSU is playing Louisiana Tech), like Alabama-Georgia and Oklahoma-Michigan and Ohio State-Texas, and isn’t it early in the season for marquee match-ups like that? I guess the SEC is going to decide this week whether to expel LSU or not; Greg Sankey has never liked having his power questioned. But one thing is for sure: the NCAA started all of this NIL/paying players thing without covering every base, and the most positive outcomes from this will be answering unresolved questions about eligibility. It’s really hard to argue against eligibility for people who signed professional contracts but never played or got paid when they can get paid in college. I thought the mentality behind this whole pay-the-players thing was to encourage playing college for four years…you can’t really tell someone “well, you signed a contract to get paid, which means you can no longer get paid at the collegiate level,” can you? Make it make sense. There needs to be a more clearly defined rule, is all–and if they didn’t think coaches would push their limits, they thought wrong. As a very biased LSU an, I try not to voice opinions about these things when they involve LSU because my instinct is always to defend my team–it feels like someone telling you your dog is ugly–but in removing emotion (or trying to) and only using logic tells me that it’s actually a problem that needs a definitive answer–which everyone seems to be hedging on by turning it into an “LSU problem” when the reality is that decisions should be in the best interests of, I don’t know, the actual players? Actual courts of law inevitably rule against the NCAA, which is why the system is so broken. If they kick LSU out, so be it–but don’t think our governor and attorney general will let that sit, and honestly? Every time Janky Jeff and the Lizard insert their sticky hands into anything, they make everything worse–and they aren’t very smart to begin with; they’re just stupid, lazy, and corrupt with no issues abusing their own petty power. I mean, they sell out their constituents every chance they get, and it really bothers me that they’ll never face any consequences for their abuses of power.

The week already seems off to me, because it’s again a short one. I have to see my doctor on Friday, and I have a meeting that morning. Maybe we’re going to Costco? I don’t know. But the good news is I started writing a short story yesterday for one of these anthology calls I’m interested in; whether I am able to finish it and turn it in on time for consideration is another story (which is why I have so many partial stories in the files; I’ll start writing one for an anthology but not finish it, and then years later I’ll find it, can’t remember why I started it, but will finish it and get it published–this is what happened with “The Sound of Snow Falling”, which is coming out in Unloaded 3 this fall. It’s very creepy, and there’s no corpse. (Well, creepy and disturbing if I make it work the way I want it to; we’ll just have to see, won’t we?

I see that Ben Shelton managed to beat Carlos Alcaraz last night after I went to bed. I’ve not really gotten into the US Open that much this year, but…I love watching good tennis, but I don’t feel connected to any players, other than Carlos, but seeing the rise of so many young Americans on both the men’s and women’s sides is kind of exciting. It’s been a while since we’ve had any Americans on the rise. (Although I do always enjoy watching Novax lose.)

I watched a short video the other day about the murder of Jesse Valencia in Columbia, Missouri (he was a student at the university), and there were so many twists and turns before the murderer was identified–and as always with a gay murder, repression and the closet played a major role in the case. There’s a novel there, but I have to wrap my mind around it to get the story and point of view I would want to use. I have often thought about how dangerous it is to be gay, and how many of us go home from clubs and bars and parties with someone we just met and know nothing about; it’s a wonder more of us aren’t murdered, to be honest. A serial killer, for example, could kill plenty of gay male hook-ups before anyone even noticed–and if he’s hot, they’d never think twice about leaving with him–which, of course, is something I’m exploring in a in-progress novel that may be finished some day.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. It’s even Pay the Bills Day, and I completely forgot until just now. Get your head together, Gregalicious! See you tomorrow!

As good looking and sexy as he is, I always find these “here’s my ass!” poses kind of funny, and always wonder if they’re straight and if they know what the photographer is actually going for….

Inside of Me

Sunday morning! I got up earlier than I thought I would this morning, given how late I went to bed last night because the LSU had about a two hour rain delay and didn’t get started until almost nine. I didn’t see that as a good omen, honestly, but…yeah, more on that a little later.

It rained off and on pretty much all day yesterday, which was nice. I felt good, if a bit on the low energy side, but it was fine. I had some groceries delivered, managed to get a lot of chores done, worked on straightening up the books, washed the bathroom rugs, and did two (!!) loads of dishes. Sparky was also cuddly and wanted to sleep on me most of the day since Paul wasn’t home; he worked out with his trainer and then went to the gym to do cardio for a couple of hours. I worked on the computer files some, cleaned off the kitchen counters, and organized the refrigerator. I should have been more tired, shouldn’t I? *snicker* In the morning, after I posted my blog and a new newsletter (which you can read by clicking here!) I went into the living room for cuddle time with Sparky. I finished watching The Burbs, and watched this week’s Real Housewives of Orange County (yawn) before putting it on to the Alabama game, which I didn’t need to pay attention to, and then had the Baylor-Auburn game on. It’s still too early in the season to know how good anyone is yet, so we don’t know what the seasons holds for anyone–I mean, Michigan almost lost at home to Western Michigan yesterday–which makes it all the more interesting to watch while dismissing “expert” opinions on who is or isn’t good.. It’s nice not being so emotionally vested in college football anymore (a topic for another time), to be honest, and dialing back my fandom in my dotage isn’t something I saw coming, but…it’s probably better this way. That emotional roller coaster I used to ride during LSU games was exhausting and unnecessary.

The Auburn-Baylor game turned out to be a lot better than I expected; wasn’t sure what to expect from either (I do like Baylor coach Dave Aranda, he was our defensive coordinator in 2019) and Auburn has a new coach this year. Can the new coach turn Auburn around and get them winning again? Auburn made a goal-line stand on a two-point conversion in the final seconds of the game to win, 17-16. Good for you, new coach! While it wasn’t an impressive outing for Auburn, they lost the close games most of the time in the last five or six years.

The LSU-Clemson game was weather delayed, as I already mentioned; we were also having a thunderstorm here. I managed to cookout between waves of the storm, and after watching the US Open during the delay, finally settled in to watch the game. Oh. My. God. As I said yesterday and reiterated above, it’s hard at this point in the season to tell who’s good and who isn’t. So, yes, it’s entirely possible that Clemson is really bad this year–but LSU beat them 51-10, and it wasn’t even that close. I’ve not seen LSU beat a top tier college team that badly in–well, since the Oklahoma game in the play-offs with Joe Burrow. The defense was incredible. It was also Dabo Swinney’s worst loss in his time at Clemson–maybe as a head coach in general. Sam Leavitt and that new running back Dilin Jones certainly looked amazing. Even the back-ups, going in late in the third quarter, looked really good. I had hoped for a big win, like I always do, but 51-10? Never in my wildest dreams would I have anticipated that. This is going to be a very interesting season, but Coach Kiffin sure seemed to be having a really good time last night, and Death Valley was rocking. I am trying not to get too excited, choosing to keep my “cautiously optimistic” hat on for now, just as I did with the 2019 team.

I also loved the signs at Gameday (I didn’t watch; because Macafee) that I saw on-line later: You can’t spell lawsuit without LSU and Don’t sue me Jayden I’m only 5.

I started rereading Celebrity by Thomas Thompson; it’s a rather long and deeply involving crime story that takes place over the course of over twenty years. It’s always been one of my favorites (Thompson wrote one of my favorite true crime “novels,” Blood and Money) and a friend mentioned it recently on social media, so I got it down from the shelves (I have my original copy still, hardcover) and started looking at it again last weekend, rereading the opening. Does it still hold up? No crime novel would ever get away with being this long now–it would have to be marketed as something else; I don’t know what it was considered or marketed as on its original release. I bought it because I’d loved his earlier true crime writing, and this intrigued me. I’ve always loved stories that go back and forth in time, with the reader not knowing much about what’s going on in the present. The book opens from the point of view of a cop at the hospital with someone having emergency surgery; all we know is someone has been arrested, someone is dead, and someone could die, but not who they are and how we got to the point, which is an excellent way to open a book, if you ask me, It’s not until we go back in time that we learn who the three central characters are, and we meet them as high school seniors whose graduation party plans have been rained out by a flooding rain…it’s also quite well-written, but I also wonder if anyone would publish it today. It’s going to make for a good essay, methinks.

I got an email yesterday with the subject line Six Gothic thrillers for fans of horror. Excuse me, what? It was one of those lists of books things, but…Gothic isn’t always horror, and horror isn’t always Gothic. Rebecca, for example, is a Gothic novel that isn’t horror. It really annoyed me–Gothic can be any number of other subgenres, but…I will have to concede that Gothic thrillers may appeal to horror fans. As someone who is a fan of horror and Gothics, I used to make that same mistake–but classifying books is not an exact science in the first place.

I also read a Richard Matheson short story yesterday. Matheson is one of my favorite writers; it’s amazing how many films and episodes of television shows (like The Twilight Zone) are based on his work, and I never think to include him (and Robert Bloch) as authors who have influenced me. I should revisit some of this novels…anyway, the story was a Western called “The Conqueror.” It’s actually very poignant, about a young man who has come west to prove himself as a quick draw duelist. It doesn’t end well, and is kind of sad; someone who, in 1871, wanted his fifteen minutes of fame. It also reminded me again what a master Matheson was.

I saw an anthology submissions call for crimes without corpses; in other words, any crime but murder. I don’t think I’ve ever written a non-murder crime story, which is kind of wild. Why do I always only think of murder when it comes to crime? Something to ponder at any rate.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am playing today by ear; whether I read or write or clean or any combination of the above will remain to be seen predicated on what I am feeling like. I feel a bit lazy today–staying up so late but still getting up early is not recommended–so today is what it is. So have yourself a merry little holiday Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back again tomorrow morning! Till then, stay cool.

These kinds of staircases always make me think o The Haunting of Hill House. I would never climb one, but they are pretty to look at.

Bad Girl

Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!

I am up early to get blood drawn before I head into the office for the meeting, after which I am running some errands before coming home to do more work. Not sure when I am going to be able to finish and post this, but that’s just part of the thrill-ride that is my life! We’re also supposed to have rain off and on all day, with thunderstorms this evening. YIKES! But I will be safely home well before that, and the low possibility of street flooding. Never a dull moment in New Orleans!

Yesterday was fine. I got a little tired yesterday afternoon, but it was overall a pretty good day for me at the office. It wasn’t busy in the clinic so I was able to get a lot of other odds and ends taken care of, which was kind of nice. I finished paying my bills–turns out I had made a mistake last month; I thought I hadn’t paid the phone bill at the beginning of the month so went ahead and paid it again mid-month, which was actually my September payment. So, it’s not due again until October. Yay for me making a good mistake? I’ll take it–in this economy? You bet your ass I will. Traffic was heavy for some reason on the way home, but I did make it home and into the house to a needy kitty, whom I gave some attention to, before going into the living room and sinking into my chair. I caught up on the news, caught an episode of The Burbs, and when Paul got home, we watched this week’s Reacher and The Shards. At this point, The Shards is a gloriously beautiful train wreck, finding new rails to run off in every episode.

Okay, I am back at home and taking a lunch break. I got my errands taken care of on the way home, got the laundry started, and then dove headfirst into day job duties. I just came up for air, hungry, and remembered I hadn’t finished this, either. So hopefully I’ll be able to get this finished and posted before I have to go back to work. I do love working at home. And then…well, it’s a holiday weekend, isn’t it? I’ve kind of decided to set the book I’m reading aside and move on to something else, circling back to it again next month for Halloween Horror Month–which is also going to include watching some films I’ve not seen before; starting a slow rewatch of Dark Shadows; a revisit of The Dead Zone; and some horror short stories I am looking forward to digging into. This weekend, as I believe I have already mentioned several times, is LSU’s first game of the season, and yes, I am vaguely aware of the current lawsuits and controversies, and yes, am currently frowning in concern and disapproval, but I said when they started paying college players things like this–legal issues and eligibility questions. ow are college players not professionals already? That’s why I am not commenting on this. I don’t know enough about it to think about it logically, but my emotional knee-jerk reaction is to once again reiterate that I always said that money would eventually make college football unrecognizable to people of a certain age. Our governor seems determined to strip LSU of all academic credibility, they enrolled a rapist this semester, and of course, there was that horrifically racist video of the girls dragging a black baby doll with a rope through campus. LSU is slowly turning into a life-support apparatus for its athletics.

Sigh. I’m beginning to understand why older people are nostalgic for the past–but that feeling fades very quickly.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close as I need to head back into the spice mines. Sorry to be so brief, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get much of an entry done today; my apologies. I’ll try to make it up to you tomorrow, okay? Till then!

Big Sur in California is one of the most beautiful places in the world. The drive on Highway 1 is spectacular–and terrifying.

Where Life Begins

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and so far, so good. I got up to feed Sparky and went back to bed for another few hours and was even reluctant to finally get up when I did at last. But my coffee is good, my coffee cake was even better, and I do feel good this morning. I did nothing of consequence yesterday, other than having some things delivered and picking up a little bit. I didn’t engage my mind much with anything–didn’t read, didn’t write much, didn’t do anything but let myself have a recharging day, and it seems to have worked. I actually wrote some stories in my head while I was sleeping, or in that half-sleep thing, which is incredibly cool. I need to be more productive today–at least a little bit. I did page through Valley of the Dolls and Peyton Place, reading random sections while thinking about the books themselves and their writers.

Hopefully, when I get around to writing those essays, they will be good.

I also spent time reconnecting to Dolly tributes and video compilations. I’m very glad they are renaming the Nashville airport for her. What a legacy to leave behind, right? So many incredible stories of kindness and charity and compassion, and none of it performative–as most of it was done quietly and without fuss. She loved the queer community when it was dangerous for someone with her fan base, her long time driver/assistant was a trans man, and she loved and embraced drag queens.

From now on, all I am going to say to people that hate drag queens is “Oh, wild, so you hated Dolly Parton? What a weird thing to admit.”

It’s kind of wild, but I had thought about writing a Scotty book about the murder of a Milo-type a while ago but chose a different story at the time; I don’t remember which it was; but it was after he did the whole “child rape can be consensual and good” thing–but I am sure a strike against it was how deeply unpleasant he is and how much I would hate learning more so I could credibly create a character from that foundation. Now, I am thinking about it again for this Scotty I am building, and it could easily be shoe-horned in. Hmmm, this could really be fun.

The goings-on over at HWA are troubling, to say the least. Much as I love horror, I’ve tended to keep that community at arms’ length…well, because there is always a lot of drama going on in that community. I’ve personally never had a problem with HWA; all of my dealings with them have been incredibly pleasant, and I even put on an event for them. I’ve seen a lot of drama over the years on social media and, choose to stay out of it. I’ll see posts here and there, but don’t look into it very deeply with a not my circus not my monkeys mentality. I’ve served on boards and even run them in a leadership position. I’ve spent more time in my life at board meetings than I would have liked or preferred, retrospectively. I don’t criticize organizations publicly, or their boards, for that matter. Even when I disagree with a policy or a statement or anything for that matter, I try to keep my mouth shut because the work is hard and any system (waves around at the world in general) can be hijacked and suffer institutional damage at the hands of a bad actor, or good intentions not landing right with the community. Unless I am going to get involved to clean up the mess, I am not going to criticize. I am not saying others can’t, of course–I wouldn’t know any of this if people didn’t debate these issues publicly, for example, and some of these controversies are general enough to be of interest and concern to all authors (AI issues, for example). I only speak for myself, I want to make that abundantly clear; I don’t even claim to speak for authors that I am friends with and talk to regularly. I think it’s a shame, though, but there seem to be a lot of factions and not a little bit of hypocrisy in the horror writing community. It’s a shame, because it’s a marvelous genre and there are any number of talented and lovely writers within it. I don’t like watching train wrecks, but always seem to get sucked into watching them–which is something I need to work on.

Speaking of horror, we watched Obsession last night, which was very unsettling and very well done. It wasn’t terrifying or jump scary; it was just very disturbing and creepy but impossible to look away from. It’s another variation on the be careful what you wish for trope, but the acting is phenomenal and it’s brutal and horrific–but I also can’t help thinking, it would be nice to see this from the woman’s perspective. Imagine the horror of being obsessively in love with someone while knowing you really aren’t but you can’t control yourself. Now that would be terrifying.

And now, I am going to get something more solid to eat than a slice of coffee cake, another cup of coffee, and then I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Screenshot

Open Your Heart

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah? Huzzah. I slept well again last night–I’m loving all this good sleep this week, seriously–and feel pretty good for a Thursday morning. MY morning is busy today at the office, but not so much this afternoon, so I can get caught up on paperwork and other odds and ends before I go home. I have to stop and make a small amount of groceries on my way home tonight, and then I can chill out. The new season of Reacher has started airing, and we should get some new episodes in other shows we are watching. I think when I get home tonight I am going to get caught up on reality television before Paul and I settle in for the evening with our shows.

I sent out a new newsletter out yesterday (you can click the blue to read it if you would like), about the book of essays on soap operas I recently finished reading and thoroughly enjoyed, Love in the Afternoon and the Evening! It felt good to get another one out–I really do need to answer emails–and I will probably do more newsletters about soaps and aspects of them I enjoyed (murder mysteries, hot guys, etc.) in the future. I need to get back to my essays about masculinity, don’t I? I really do need to sit down and map them out. I also want to finish that essay on gay v. queer. Maybe this weekend? I also want to write one to send out on my birthday next week, not that I have anything witty or wise to say about getting older. Surely, every thing has already been said, and better? Ah, well, that won’t stop me, will it? Not in the least.

The big news is that I finished Chapter Four last night! I wrote over a thousand words last night and polished it off; now I need to go back and make it more cohesive and smooth the continuity–I’m not editing for language or length (I will change some of that, though, I can’t help myself) this time through; it’s just easier to do this continuity shit now before the manuscript gets longer. It also dramatically improved my mood, too. It always feels so good when I have a good writing session! Work was okay yesterday, too–not very busy but just busy enough to make the day pass relatively quickly. The drive home was smooth and easy and frigidly aired1; I also did some chores last night as well as provided a lap for le Sparkster. Paul was late coming home from a board meeting, so we were on our own last night and he was needy, as always (Sparky, i mean). It was marvelous coming down to a clean kitchen this morning–you’d think I’d remember that and make sure I do that every morning, but…sigh. That’s not how I roll, clearly.

Two classic books from the 1970s were on-sale for their ebook editions this week and I got them both: Jaws and Audrey Rose. Both books were what we would call “viral” today; Jaws more so than Audrey Rose, which is a reincarnation story (which has always interested me; it makes more sense than spending eternity singing praises to God2). I didn’t get to go see movies a lot when I was a kid, and of course, before cable and streaming pretty much the only way to see old films was to catch them in their edited for television versions…so, if a movie was based on a book, I would just read the book. (Or the novelization, as I did with The Last of Sheila.) I read Jaws when it came out in paperback, and enjoyed it. Everyone was talking about the book, and it was a huge bestseller. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and even read more of Peter Benchley (The Deep is one I’d love to revisit). I didn’t know much about sharks other than what people would say when we’d be at the beach in Florida in the summer time (trivia note: two of my cousins were extras in Jaws II), so I, as always, looked them up in the World Book Encyclopedia and all the associated entries. We did see the movie when it was released; it was one of those “after church matinees” Mom used to take us to after a lunch at Ponderosa), and the theater was so crowded they had ushers finding seats for people. The only spot with three together was the exact center of the front row….

To watch a shark movie.

It was probably the most terrifying experience I had in a movie theater until some of the Washington Monument stunts in Spider-Man: Homecoming, during which I had to look away because the camera work was so good that it felt like I was on the monument, and yeah, no way, no how, no thanks.

Is Jaws considered a horror novel/film? I mean, it is a monster movie. Horror was certainly having a day in the 1970s, wasn’t it? (I use to call them occult books back then, because I didn’t know that horror was an actual genre until later in the decade, when the media began calling Stephen King a “horror novelist.”)

Audrey Rose isn’t as remembered, partly because the film wasn’t as good as Jaws and it didn’t become a cultural touchstone. It was a big book in the 1970s–I remember it even had commercial ads on television–and it was marketed as straight up horror but it kind of wasn’t. I don’t remember being scared by the book (which I barely remember), more that it was more haunting than anything else, sad and disturbing and melancholic. Anyway, I love reincarnation stories—which goes back to Dark Shadows, as so many things do in my tastes. It’ll be interesting to revisit it; I looked at the first page last night on my Kindle and saw that, yes, indeed–it has a haunting, Gothic sensibility to it, that I always enjoy.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning before I start my work-at-home duties. See you then!

Louisiana has the most spectacular sunsets
  1. It really is astonishing what having working air in the car makes. Honestly. ↩︎
  2. I do wonder how things went viral before the Internet. ↩︎

White Heat

Pay my bills, pay my telephone bills, pay my bi-ills….

There’s always a song cue in my life; and every time Pay the Bills Wednesday rolls around, I always hear “Bills, Bills, Bills” by Destiny’s Child in my head, even though the song is about a leech boyfriend, not losing a lot of your paycheck to bills…but that big Entergy bill is worth every penny in the summer. I have to say air conditioning is a gift from heaven that we should not turn out backs on, or scoff at. Now that the air is working again in my car, it’s made a huge difference. I wasn’t sweaty and crabby when I got home from work yesterday; I felt good. Maybe it was also because I remembered the injection was due on Monday (I forgot Monday with all the car stuff), and did it yesterday morning? I don’t know, I don’t need to know why I feel so much better, but all of these things could easily be related. Feeling how the car a/c works now has me wondering how long the a/c wasn’t functioning properly? It took that truly nasty heat dome thing to make me finally realize something was wrong with it.

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day. I only added 300 words last night to the book, but that’s because I know the rest of the chapter is going to be hard. (This is the part when I’m on deadline when I just type finish this scene later, which always makes me want to cry to the heavens when the deadline is soon and I get to that in the revision…I know I am not the only person who does this, either.) But I do feel like the better I am feeling, the easier the writing is going to be? Does that make sense?

Are all these heterosexual hockey romance shows doing as well as Heated Rivalry did? I know they aren’t a cultural phenomenon the way the queer hockey show and I literally have seen no conversations about any of them, anywhere. So typically Hollywood to get the wrong message, isn’t it? “People must have watched for the hockey! IMAGINE if the romances were STRAIGHT? We’ll be printing money!” Yeah, no, that’s not the right lesson….but at least when those shows fail, we won’t get blamed for them; which may make them think even deeper about Heated Rivalry’s virality, but I doubt it. They’ll just think it was a fluke, or it was the cast. Which is good for the cast, of course, but not so much those of us who want to see same-sex relationships. But these are the people who saw the huge success of Barbie and thought the takeaway was “more toy movies!” No, it meant you finally gave women a reason to go to the movies and they turned up in droves…as well as anyone else who wanted to see a good film with a feminist message critiquing modern society and culture.

It’s astonishing how bad Hollywood can be at originality and creativity. Billy Wilder would be making pictures for television now if he were in his prime currently because his movies wouldn’t be seen as bankable.

Can I just say that Abdul el-Sayed is hot, hot, hot? Then again, he’s also very smart and quick on his feet, which is even more hot, in my opinion. Interesting, though how the centrist battle–cry of vote blue no matter who only applies, apparently, to white straight men. These are the same kind of Democrats who tried to water down the New Deal and did water down the Affordable Care Act…even if we do take congress back this fall from the Unwashed Flat Ass Party doesn’t mean they’ll accomplish anything because, well, Fetterman and other Democrats like him. There’s always at least one Trump sympathizer running for the Senate to sabotage any and everything and to completely back him (looking at you, racist Vindman with the skank wife in Florida), because we will always have the Sinema and Manchin sell-outs (I really hope the rest of her life is even more miserable than she deserves, and she should never go out in public without being heckled; same with Manchin. I hate her, more, though, not because she’s a woman because she’s an out bisexual who stabbed her own community in the back repeatedly to stand with McConnell and Trump like the syphilitic quisling skank1 she is.)

Furious is really good, y’all. It goes far beyond the usual “FBI agent starts tracking serial killer” trope, by getting more deeply into who Alice Black is as a character, why she left the police, and why she is the way that she is–cold, driven, thoroughly professional without empathy, which can be hard to watch when she’s interrogating a teenager who witnessed her father’s murder–but we know why she’s the way she is…she is working her way through PTSD from an abusive relationship, and it’s an extraordinary performance by the always underrated Emmy Rossum. And given the motivations of the killer, I’m not really sure she qualifies as a serial killer–because, yes, the bodies are piling up, but their connection is through her having been trafficked as a child…so yes, she is a very clever and vicious killer, but at the same time she is a victim and her tormentors are horrible people who would never see justice for what they did…another stinging indictment of our society and culture, really.

Injustice for one is injustice for all. I was taught that in grade school. I guess my public education was “woke,” even as it indoctrinated us all in white supremacy and American Exceptionalism.

I am very sorry to add Nicholas Hoult, whom I’ve enjoyed watching since Warm Bodies, to the “dead-to-me-will-never-watch-again” fake queer ally list. Hope your HBO check from the Chatelaine of Castle Hate is worth it. *Cough* Sydney Sweeney *cough*. This is why it is impossible for queer people to ever completely trust straight people–they will always choose their wallets over any “alliance” with a marginalized group. A shame, because I loved Superman, but …no views, clicks, or money from me going forward. The thing these people forget is that we never do. We also never forgive. Even an apology–which won’t be coming, believe you me–and withdrawal from the hate project won’t suffice for me.

You see, I believe people when they tell me who they are. Bye bye, Felicia! You’re not an ally if you’re only one when it doesn’t affect your bottom line. Thanks but no thanks.

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

I’ve had a crush on gorgeous Latino hunk/actor/model William Levy since he was on Dancing with the Stars…can you blame me?
  1. Bisexual erasure is bad enough without skanks like her making them all look bad. ↩︎

Love Makes the World Go Round

Sunday already? #madness. I am up early this morning after a good night’s sleep, and I feel pretty good. Yesterday wound up being one of those days where I didn’t do much of anything, and I am not one bit sorry about it, so there, LOL. I am not going to allow myself that luxury today, of course, and at least I should be able to get some reading and cleaning done. Or not. I had the television on, but don’t really remember a whole lot of yesterday and that’s also really fine. My time is my own, although I have some things starting to percolate. Another shared anthology is in the works (with Art Taylor and Donna Andrews for Jeffrey Marks’ Crippen & Landru Press), I have a short essay due by the end of the month, and of course, there’s always the book, the newsletter, and some short stories I want to write for upcoming submissions calls. I am trying to get back into the riding saddle again, but I have to be better about my time management, too. That’s the problem with a lot of free time; you can also wind up wasting time because you think you have plenty of it.

And you never do.

It was a bit gloomy when I got up this morning, but the sky has seemingly cleared. We may get some rain this afternoon, which would be nice and cooling. The temperatures have dropped to the low nineties/high eighties, which is more normal for summer in New Orleans, but I have no doubt we’ll get more blast-furnace heat by the end of the month; Labor Day weekend is always insanely hot and humid (which always made Southern Decadence more fun). But the summer is nearing its end (we won’t have cooler weather until October, but the humidity lessens some after Labor Day. A quick perusal of the weather channel and there is a disturbance out in the Atlantic, but no concerns for the moment. With my luck, it’ll probably come here and I’ll have to evacuate for my birthday. (It was my birthday the weekend before Katrina.) No sense borrowing trouble, as my mother used to say–which was funny, given she had generalized anxiety disorder and thus worried about everything,

Everything she could control, at any rate.

It’s kind of nice having my own dialed back to something manageable, seriously.

I am feeling both lazy and productive at the same time this morning. I need to eat something and get some more coffee, for one thing. I’ve got my journal right here with me, and I keep pausing to take notes. I also have The Last House on Needless Street here with me that I can dip into every once in a while, along with my reread of Celebrity. I have two newsletters I can get finished and out soon, and there are also a couple of others I am still working on. There’s always something for me to write, isn’t there? But one thing I definitely want to do this morning is organize the submission calls that I want to try to write something for as well–organizing is something I always enjoy, and it helps when you can look at everything in one single solitary place. I have finally accepted that my once sharp memory is now a thing of the past, and frequently am amazed at what I have forgotten.

I was thinking about this while reading another chapter of Needless Street, and about how wrong so many of my memories of Alabama have so often proven to be…this bothered me quite a bit, since I’ve visited the home county more times in the last four years than I have in the last forty. It bugged me mostly because I have written fiction set there in a fictionalized version based on memory, and if the memories are incorrect…(the reason is it–the book– reminds me of something similar I have been working on for the last decade or so; my own creepy house down the street in a small town and horrors from the past. This morning, the anvil dropped on my head. Fictional version are the keywords here; it’s based on, not an actual representation of the county. I swear to God, I wish I weren’t so literal and stubborn and oblivious, you know? Sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off were I not that way; look at the difference dialing back the anxiety has made. Things to think about and consider, at any rate.

So Miss North Carolina was dethroned this week, so naturally the bitch tried to make it about religious persecution, so she could go the Riley Gaines route in conservative media…and then the pageant released the racist posts where she freely threw around the n word. Sit your racist ass down, skank, and have a folding chair. The “asshole whiner to conservative darling” grift is an entire thing, and always so sadly predictable. Your faith made you a racist piece of shit, did it? Have fun explaining that to your God before he sends you to hell, bitch. And how awesome is it that the title now passes on to a Black woman? Chef’s kiss, no notes–although to be honest, I wasn’t aware that beauty pageants, er scholarship contests, were still a thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Sunday, y’all. I’ll be back in the morning.

I cannot believe I’ve never written a Scotty with a chase scene across balconies in the Quarter.

Borderline

Friday morning and here we go.

You will be pleased to know that I am yet again certified for CPR, for the thirty-first time or so. This is more of an intense version–the clinic thing–and some things have changed, so I am glad I had to do it again this year. I’ve never had to use it–we have an emergency response team that responds to a code call–and some of the people in my department are on that team (I’ve seen them save multiple lives over the years) but it’s nice to know I can help if necessary.

I am about to get a second cup of coffee and start getting ready to take the car to the body shop. I’ll just grab a Lyft home. I have an on-line meeting at nine, and plenty of work to keep my busy this work at home Friday. It’s also supposed to rain this afternoon, and it’s under eighty degrees this morning–under eighty in New Orleans in August? Madness. I wasn’t tired after work yesterday, but didn’t do a whole lot when I got home other than pick up some things and catch up on the news. (Always a pleasure to do…) We did watch the season finale of The Vampire Lestat, which was different from the ending of the book but definitely ended on a cliff-hanger, which was an interesting choice. I also slept really well again, which was lovely. I am hoping for a good weekend again, but don’t really have any plans for the weekend other than reading, writing, some errands, and cleaning. I did finish reading Love in the Afternoon and Evening (more on that later), and hope to make some progress on The Last House on Needless Street as well.

Okay, the car has been dropped off at the body shop I use on the Earhart1, and I was sweating in buckets by the time the Lyft came–which was deliciously cold when I climbed into the back seat. Ah, this is what it’s supposed to feel like inside a car in the summer. The way New Orleanians forget every year how hot it gets in the summer needs to be studied–along with the comment “I don’t remember it getting this hot before” which is part of that protective amnesia I suppose. I said that on social media to a friend–who’d had dinner with someone earlier in the week who’d said the same thing. We do tend to talk about the weather here a lot, even if it’s just “whew, shore is hot this mornin’/afternoon/evenin’.” (Which is why Elmore Leonard’s writing advice to never start with the weather doesn’t work here. It affects everything.)

But “how to write” manuals are merely authors (or professors) telling others who are interested in writing and getting better. Nothing is tried or true in writing; one of the reason I turn off the spell/grammar check in word is because sometimes I want to use a sentence that may not be grammatically correct–and don’t even get me started on what that shit does to a stream-of-consciousness run-on sentence inside a character’s head. We don’t think in grammatically correct sentences and paragraphs; we also don’t speak that way. I certainly don’t, but that’s also me extrapolating my experience to everyone’s experience, which is a fallacy–yet something everyone does. A few years ago I read something and knit my brows together, thinking no gay would ever–and had to stop and remind myself that actually, some probably would. Our community, after all, is no freer from quislings than any other marginalized group. Sad, but a fact. That’s the mote in our collective eyes; the default that our own experience is the default and everyone thinks like we do….like how racists assume every other white person is also a bigot. (I’ve shocked a few, which is fun.)

And on that note, I am going to make some breakfast and get ready for my meeting. Have a lovely and great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

The Rhode Island mansion that was a stand-in for Collinwood on Dark Shadows.
  1. I also asked for estimates for the damage acquired from other New Orleans drivers while parked. Thanks again, trash! ↩︎

Physical Attraction

Sunday morning and Sparky let me sleep later this morning than he did yesterday, but I think I might have been better off going back to bed yesterday morning instead of staying up. I felt worn out and exhausted all day, with little to no motivation to do much of anything. I didn’t write any fiction yesterday, but I did get my latest newsletter, about the Rick Brant science mysteries and loving Egypt, out, so that’s an accomplishment, right? I also read some–read several chapters of Love in the Afternoon and Evening, and a couple of chapters of The Last House on Needless Street, which is a pleasure to read–and watched some news and some World War II short documentaries on Youtube (I got sucked into one on Midway, and then I was down the wormhole: Stalingrad, Battle of the Bulge, Normandy, and so forth). I needed a down day, methinks, because I feel really good this morning. Listen to your body, Gregalicious, which you most definitely did NOT do yesterday morning. I also didn’t do much organizing or cleaning or anything, either. Like I said, I was just low energy most of the day.

Which I guess I needed to be.

We also started The Vampire Lestat, and my God, is it wonderful. I already enjoyed Sam Reid as Lestat from Louis’ point of view in Interview with the Vampire, but my God, does he ever embody Anne Rice’s Brat Prince to perfection in this. Visually and stylistically it’s impressive and over the top and everything Mrs. Rice could have ever wanted for her characters. The story is compelling, driven so strongly by Sam Reid’s Lestat that I didn’t have the same reaction I initially did when reading the books–switching to Lestat’s point of view was jarring; my mentality was “the entire first book was about how much of an asshole he is, and now you’re making him the hero of the series?” But I kept reading the series–I never read any of the new books after she returned to the characters after a few years of a break, and maybe someday I will, like when I have a lengthy vacation where I can just read–like Acapulco. But we’re loving this season, and I am delighted that next season will be The Queen of the Damned, which was what turned her into an international best seller. I joined the series when there were just the three, and I read them all on a trip to Honolulu before the fourth came out–which was one of my favorites of the series. (I have to say, though, that my favorite Rice novel, The Witching Hour, was extremely disappointing as a series.)

We were going to go see Spider-Man today, but when I checked the theaters, there weren’t many seats left, and I told Paul last night that I didn’t think I’d be up to being around a lot of strangers today–the lobby will be packed as well as the cinema itself–and we decided to wait until next weekend, or my birthday, which is two weeks from Thursday, I think, when I turn sixty-five. That was quite the run-on sentence, wasn’t it? We are going to have to go out today–theory is that it’s supposed to be cooler today after the rain passes, and it looks like it has…at least for now, anyway. I think I may even go read for a bit once I post this, and should read until the rain is completely past, which, per the local news, will be around noon–there was just now a bit of thunder in the distance, so that’s probably on its way here now. I honestly don’t know what kind of day I am going to have, so I am not going to hope for any outcomes and see how the cards fall for the day. (We need to go pick up Paul’s new glasses at Costco, which is really where I should get my new ones…hmmm.)

And on that note, I am going to get something to eat and will head into the living room for a bit to do some reading. So, have a great day, my friends, and I’ll be back in the morning.

How old is this picture? I wouldn’t have thought anything about it until I noticed his computer looks like an iMac from around the turn of the century. Maybe he is into antiques?

Love Without Words

Saturday, August 1, and coniglio! Coniglio!

Let’s see if that works; it did for Trixie Belden in The Mystery of the Emeralds.

It’s Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment. Sparky got me up before seven this morning–His Majesty was HUNGRY–and I decided to get up and feed him. Once I was out of the bed, I decided to get cleaned up and get going on my day. Yesterday sucked–I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say the a/c in my car still isn’t working and I need to take it to another place first because some “body work” needs to be done, and it really doesn’t sound cheap–but I am shaking it off today. I’ve never had to spend much money on this car since buying it and it’s been about ten years. So, let it go, I can’t do anything about it until Monday, anyway, and why let that spoil my weekend when I have free time, I still feel good, and tomorrow we’re going to go see the new Spider-Man movie. So, lots to look forward to, and today I am going to try to get some stuff done around here. I need to order groceries for delivery (too hot to drive there and back), and I need to get the house back under control again. It’s not that bad, but the last couple of days I’ve let things slide a bit. I did read some of my book yesterday, and it’s really fantastic. We caught this week’s Sugar, and I think tonight we’ll dive into The Vampire Lestat.

I also have those Emily Wilson translations to dip into, as well. And a newsletter to get out, but them not going out consistently has been an issue from the first, and I do suspect the only person I am actually disappointing with any of this is me, you know? But they are fun to write, and while I do forget things I wanted to say in them from time to time, and I don’t proof them as thoroughly as I should before they go out, but I am also not going to get anxious or stressed about them. Paul is going to work with his trainer today and then is going to ride the bike at the gym, so I should have the entire afternoon to myself for downtime, reading and writing and more cleaning. Why is there always more cleaning to do? Heavy heaving sigh. I did decide to treat myself to a long birthday weekend this month, so I have my birthday and the Friday after to accept that I am officially elderly. It doesn’t bother me (much); it’s more shocking to me that I made it this far, with so much stacked against me. Making it to 65 as a gay man in this country was no small accomplishment, but honestly? Pure damn luck. I made it through the HIV pandemic without getting infected–miracle of miracles, especially when it seemed so damned unlikely any of us would make it through with anything other than PTSD and guilt. (The guilt has always been tough for me to deal with–why me? Why did so many wonderful and talented and brilliant people die? And yes, I’ve been thinking about this since the circus the other day with Dr. Fauci, whose true crime to conservatives is that he helped stop gay men from dying.)

Maybe I do see homophobia everywhere, but you know what? That’s what it almost always is–enough times that it’s not a surprise when that does turn out to be the case.

It also pleases me to no end to see Tom Holland and Zendaya starring in the two biggest movies of the summer. I’ve always liked her, and of course, his lip-sync to Rihanna made me a life long fan of our short king. He is also one of the rare examples of a child star who grew up into a successful and always working adult actor/star.

I was also amused to see the Department of Justice and that pig Jeannine Pirro had to drop charges against “reflecting pool vandals” when it turned out to be a result of shoddy installation on a (surprise!) a no-bid contract for one of the Harkonnens’ friends? Everything the Baron said about the reflecting pool was a lie (as everyone with a brain and one working eye could see), and his minions jumped in line–against all reason, against all sanity, and above all else, against the Constitution–to snap to his insane logic and mentality and excuses. His supporters should never be allowed in public again without being shamed for the bootlicking quislings they are. (I laugh every time they call him “Daddy”–showing they are all fucking betas and will roll over, ass end up in the air ready for his penetration) Karoline Leavitt and Jeannine Pirro will go on to jobs at Fox, next to Sophie “Maga Skipper” (Barbie would never) Cunningham.

And when this is finally all over? Watch the centrist Dems try to close the book and “move on.” We saw this after the Bush Crime Syndicate left office in 2009, and way back when the Republicans sold out southern Blacks for political power. (They haven’t changed from what they became under Grant.)

What this country has allowed itself to become makes me appreciate that I am old, and I do not ever wish I were younger. Ever. And I wouldn’t go back in time even if I could.

And on that note, I am going to get some more coffee and take my book over to my easy chair. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

I’ve always loved stained glass. I played with it as a hobby in my twenties, but could never ever dream of doing something so artistic.