Category: movies

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

Spanish Eyes

Work at home Friday! I feel most excellent this morning as I sit here at my desk inside the windows, my windows covered with condensation and it being actually very chilly inside this morning. It’s in the high seventies outside right now. I ran errands on my way home yesterday and felt pretty worn down when I got inside and fed the Sparkster. Sparky wanted to sleep in my lap, so I gave in and provided him with a lap while I saw in my easy chair and did my usual catch up on the news thing while my min mostly wandered. I didn’t do any of the chores I wanted to get done last night, and this morning I do regret pushing that off until this morning. I have my biweekly team meeting at ten, and lots of paperwork to get caught up on today so I’ll be off-line for a good portion of the day, and we’re going to Costco this afternoon when Paul gets home from work. Today is the big laundry day, as it ever is, and between that and Costco–I may get some reading done; we’ll see. I may rewatch a Dolly Parton movie while doing my paperwork; I’ve been meaning to revisit The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas; why not this weekend?

What a week this was! I’m still a little frazzled from the one-two punch of Dolly and Tim Curry’s deaths–and the whole Callaway Golf/Good Good controversy (among others that broke this week, too) was completely insane. What was even more insane was watching the same men who got pissed that women will always choose the bear over a man, gaslighting women that the ad we all saw with our very own eyes, wasn’t “bad” or “just a joke.” (Hilarious how these asshole men kept doing this despite the apologies from both companies, the ad being pulled, and admitting they made a huge misogynistic error–but the “undescended testicles” brigade are still at this morning. Shock. The way some men will always circle the wagons to protect other men is why women choose the bear.) SO, I did do a bit of a deep dive on Garrett Clark, who issued the nine-minute non-apology yesterday. DId you know he was homeschooled, went to a private “Christian” school aka a segregation academy aka a Christian Nationalist school. Is it any wonder he thought shoving a woman to the ground and then getting in her face threatening her was funny? Apparently, his father told him to drop out of school because he was making so much as a content creator (it’s not like he was getting an education anyway), and you know, he was clearly raised and groomed to be a piece of shit pig man.

I also don’t think he learned anything from this, either–he’s just sorry his business is going down the toilet. Sporting goods stores and Costco pulled the merchandise, their reality show was canceled unaired, and both Callaway and the PGA severed ties with Clark’s stupid-stupid company. I guess he can put that excellent education to use now.

But in all honesty, the golf bro community will give him a chance to redeem himself–watch and see! There will be all these interviews about how hard it was to go through this, but he wasn’t that person and had to prove that to everyone (not anything about the lessons learned, if any are actually learned) to redeem himself, patting himself on the back all the time for how wonderful he is. And then he’ll say, with a very well rehearsed look on his face and a tear in his eyes, about how he is actually glad he fucked up, because learning made him a better person. The golf bros will all burst into tears and welcome him back with open arms and shoot loads in their pants while bashing “overly sensitive” women.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

But…women hold grudges, a quality I have always appreciated and try to emulate as much as possible. The North remembers, so does Pepperidge Farm, and so do women…and so do I.

Sigh.

But I am hoping for a lovely, peaceful weekend. Obviously, I have no control over the news or what’s going to potentially happen in the world, but hope springs eternal. I want to finish reading that book, get some writing work done (as always) and I need to send out another newsletter this weekend. The house is a mess, and today is, as I have already mentioned, a big laundry day, too. LSU’s football season begins a week from tomorrow, and I am starting to get a bit excited. I do love me some college football, after all, even when LSU isn’t doing well. Expectations are very high for a quick turnaround this season, but I am cautious and temper my hopes and prefer to wait and see how everything plays out. Last year, after LSU won the opener at Clemson, they were ranked in the Top 5, which was utter bullshit–as the rest of the season showed. (Polls–whether they are political or sports-related, are generally bullshit, which anyone who’s paid attention in the last ten years plus could tell you…which is why I am hopeful for the midterms, but not going to be surprised if it doesn’t go well. I’ve ceased giving my fellow citizens the benefit of the doubt anymore, and tend to expect either the worst, or the barest minimum, from them these days. Sigh.

And on that note, I am going to go get started on my chores before my meeting, and get going on the day job work, too. Have a lovely Friday, and I will be back tomorrow morning. Until then, ta-ta!

A nice looking young man, but why do so many underwear/swimsuit models all use the same size prosthetic bulge?

Act of Contrition

Thursday and it’s my last day in the office for the week, and I’m kind of glad to not have to get up tomorrow morning. This week hasn’t been terrible as far as being tired or sleepy or feeling worn out as I was–or has this been the case now for a while and I wasn’t paying attention? (That does tend to happen quite a bit.) It’s not sleepiness that causes me to hit the snooze button; it’s how comfortable and relaxed I am in the bed and under the pile of blankets that makes me not want to get up…and that’s every morning, not just the ones when I have to get up early.

Everyone is still reeling from the loss of Dolly Parton–who kept her cancer diagnosis private so “people wouldn’t worry” (so typical)–and it is very sad. I’ve been meaning to rewatch The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas for any number of reasons; maybe this weekend would be a good time? Maybe so; I saw it in the theater back when it was released and greatly enjoyed it, despite its many flaws. Naturally, there was some trash on-line who decided to be nasty about Dolly; there was one bitch in particular whose account eventually disappeared–her biggest reason for calling out Dolly’s mourners is because Dolly recorded a duet with Kid Rock and defended it. Oh my God, why wasn’t she burned at the stake? I believe that particular piece of shit may have either blocked me (I didn’t engage so not likely) or deleted her account. There was another one to that also trended for a while–a redheaded pile of dog shit I had already blocked. Anyone who is being shitty about Dolly Parton is a fucking piece of shit themselves. Dolly was the purest example of living Christianity we maybe ever had–so it wasn’t surprising that both the far right and the far left came for her. They really are the same people.

And now, Tim Curry, too? I’ve loved him since the first time I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the performance was so fucking iconic that everyone who’s played the role since (sorry, Luke Evans) has just mimicked Curry’s performance and never quite equaled the master. He was usually the best part (or one of the best, at least; he did make a movie with Madeline Kahn, after all) of everything and anything he was in; his Cardinal Richelieu made the execrable remake of The Three Musketeers in the 1990s–and that’s a story I love, so for me to hate the film it had to be bad, right?–bearable. In fact, that was my entire opinion on the movie: Well, at least Tim Curry was in it. And yes, as I wrote about for my newsletter, seeing Rocky Horror when I was nineteen or twenty was eye-opening and mind-altering. He was just so out there and erotic and sensual and so not like anything I’d ever seen or imagined before (well, besides Liza in Cabaret)…Curry was a cultural touchstone for me, much as Dolly was.

What a shitty fucking week this has been, am I right?

Celebrity deaths generally don’t hit me very hard, with a few exceptions (Whitney Houston is one), but Dolly kind of left me off-balance, and the follow-up punch with Tim Curry while already reeling was very disconcerting. I ran an errand on the way home from work last night, and once I was home I just settled in for the night, mindlessly watching short documentaries about the Pacific War and thinking about the book. OH! A marvelous thunderstorm has just rolled in! It’s pouring rain outside! That will make driving to work fun this morning! (I actually don’t mind driving in the rain–safe and snug and dry inside the car while all hell breaks loose outside of it–but I do mind other drivers in the rain, who are absolutely terrifying here. You’d think it never rained here the way drivers here lose their minds driving in it.)

So, Janky Jeff is letting the Space Nazi build a “space port” here in Louisiana; on the Gulf Coast in Vermilion Parish…you know, on the wetlands1 that are at or below sea level–what we call a . What could possibly go wrong? A Category 3 storm surge will wipe it clean, if it doesn’t sink in the marsh first (concrete is heavy; which is why we can’t keep the roads up in New Orleans). But I am sure Janky Jeff and the Space Nazi did environmental impact studies in an endangered wetlands and…ha ha ha ha! NO they didn’t. I’d be surprised if they even did a feasibility study. This is going to help Louisiana continue to erode into the ocean and is going to destroy or wreak havoc on the ecosystem. I wonder how much Janky Jeff pocketed for this deal? Senate candidate Julia Letlow certainly has pocketed some.

Pecan Island Spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. See you then!

This picture captures the essence of how I viewed New Orleans when we first moved here–a decaying yet still beautiful place with wild overgrowth. I think this may be the house they used for the exteriors for Mayfair Witches, as opposed to the actual house at First and Chestnut which is the actual house from the books.
  1. Pecan Island, the site, is what we call a chênière, a sandy ridge with live oaks. ↩︎

Deeper and Deeper

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel terrific this morning. Sparky let me sleep late again, and the bed was very warm and comfortable. I ran an errand and made groceries–hardly anything for nearly a hundred dollars–and then settled into my chair. I read some more of the book I’m reading, which is haunting and interesting but not terribly engaging, worked on some newsletters, worked on the book for a little while, and even started writing a short story, inspired by, of all things, an actual Real Housewife. I also did some chores, so overall it was a good, if lazy, day. Today I need to have some things delivered, and we may make a Costco run. I have some writing to do and definitely have some chores that need doing that I’ve kept putting off since I’ve been home this long birthday weekend.

While I was reading Youtube was on autoplay, and a documentary about the movie version of Valley of the Dolls–one of my favorite camp classics of all time (“I’M NEELY O’HARA!!!”) and eminently quotable–which got me to thinking about Valley of the Dolls, which remains one of my favorite novels of all time, and when they mentioned the casting of Barbara Parkins–who was hot at the time from the television version of Peyton Place, which also put me in mind of Peyton Place (also one of my favorite books) and how interesting it was that I always thought of the two books (and their films) as connected. Both were hugely successful, both were dismissed as “dirty sex books” and “trash” , and both made their authors celebrities–and both books appealed greatly to women (and of course gay men), as did the films. I have long thought about writing about those great trashy novels of my youth; big trashy novels by Sidney Sheldon and Shirley Conran and Harold Robbins and Jackie Collins (oh! Hollywood Wives!) and Judith Krantz; I used to love long books–especially ones with revenge as the driving plot element (sighs, remembering The Other Side of Midnight)–and these were especially fun. I still remember many of them fondly, and it would also make for another interesting essay series about how these books actually influenced and impacted me as a reader and as a writer wannabe, and how they didn’t deserve the drubbing dismissal of the literary academy. So, I got down my copies of Peyton Place and Valley of the Dolls and looked through them, opening up to various places in the books and just reading.

Today I need to do some things I meant to do yesterday but never got around to doing–I need to reread and outline the first four chapters of the book, so I can remember character and place names, continuity, and tie up any loose ends I may have pulled out but left dangling.

I think we’re probably in another heat advisory today, and there’s no telling how hot it’s actually going to get out there. It wasn’t terrible when I ran my errands yesterday–or I’m getting used to the horror, one or the other–but it’s pretty bright and sunny out there this morning. This the best I’ve felt in the morning since my mini-vacation started, which is nice. I also think I am due to get a new pair of shoes, because my hip joints are getting achy again and that’s usually a sign. At least it’s just the hips, you know? I also need to order some things to be delivered, too–which I will try to get taken care of this morning so we’re free to leave for Costco at any time, if we so choose to go there today. We do kind of need to go–but in a worst case scenario I can also have that delivered as well.

And on that note, I am going to get going so I can organize and plan my day once I get these duties taken care of. Have a great day, wherever you are and whatever you do, Constant Reader, and I shall return in the morning tomorrow. Until then, hang loose.

The fountain at Audubon Park on a misty morning, by photographer David Freeman.

Love Song

Saturday morning and I have really lost the plot on what day it is. I kept thinking it was Saturday all day yesterday, which was annoying. And as much as I was wanting to have another day off yesterday (planning on working more today and tomorrow), I actually started writing my next chapter of the WIP, and even worked some on my newsletter drafts, which is becoming more and more fun the more I do of them. Obviously, we didn’t go see the movie because I was writing and had gotten settled into that “in my sweats and I’m in my chair working on my laptop” mode, and so I thought it was better to go ahead and do what work I could while doing my chores. I wound up writing about 1500 words on the new chapter, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Whether they are any good or not is another story, but I am taking the win. I also stayed up later than usual, doing the laundry, and Sparky tried to get me up early again but settled in for cuddles when I didn’t get up.

I watched some more documentaries about the Pacific War again yesterday, which is technically research for the book–since my main character served in the South Pacific during the war. It also occurred to me yesterday that I should watch South Pacific again–I watched it when I was a kid, and never revisited, but thought it might be interesting from a sociological and research point of view; how did they depict sailors with no access to women? It’s been so long I don’t remember much of the movie, or the book either for that matter (Tales of the South Pacific was my entry point for James A. Michener’s work) so one of these weekend mornings when I don’t have much else to do along the lines of reading or chores I could put it on. I liked musicals a lot when I was a kid–I remember seeing The Sound of Music and Camelot on the big screen–but kind of got away from them as a teenager and the post-teen years…the fact that not many were made might have had a lot to do with it. Anyway, it couldn’t hurt, right? And if I can consider something as a kind of sideways research, it doesn’t feel like I’m just wasting my time…see, what you saw right there is an anxiety coping mechanism: I’d feel guilty and anxious for not being productive, so I needed a rationale for it that made sense to my brain.

And while we didn’t go see the movie yesterday after all–and probably won’t this weekend either–we are going to Costco tomorrow.

I watched more of The Burbs yesterday, and when Paul came down from his work-at-home duties, we caught up on both The Shards and Reacher. This most recent episode of The Shards was probably one of the best ones so far, but it’s still Ryan Murphy so there’s kind of a glitzy veneer over it all and character motivations don’t seem to be important (they never are to Murphy)…and almost all of the characters are unlikable, because I at least never feel any sympathy for any of them–and kind of enjoy their failures…I am not sure that’s the primary intent here, but that’s my reaction to it. It’s addicting, though, like so many things are that are nothing more than empty calories, like cotton candy or soda.

I was actually kind of glad we didn’t go to the movie yesterday because around the time we would have left, some amazing thunderstorms rolled into the metro area. The band of bad weather lasted for about six or seven hours, too–with street flooding uptown and there was also HAIL uptown, big chunks of ice hurtling down from the sky. We didn’t have any here at the Lost Apartment, thank the Lord, and it sure would have sucked to bring Costco home during a thunderstorm. Yikes.

Some rather interesting news broke yesterday regarding the Karmelo Anthony case, and a better picture of what happened that day is starting to emerge. When I first heard the news, my first thought was “self-defense” and my second was “they are going to roast and railroad this kid” and I was right about that, too. (Just like when Nolan Wells went missing and my reaction was “he’s dead and those white kids did something, they may not have killed him but they certainly didn’t act like innocent people who didn’t know anything” and as more facts come out…)

Because inevitably it will always turn out to be some kind of bullshit white shenanigans. And that kid Karmelo Anthony killed sounds to me like he was already well on his way to becoming a full-fledged sociopath. We need to stop treating white kids with kid gloves. Hell, we need to stop centering white people, period.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning, okay? Til then!

I’ve never understood the “must shave body and be smooth at all times” mentality. Body hair can be sexy, too—and very masculine.

Till Death Do Us Part

Friday and my days are all fucked up! I kept thinking it was Friday all day yesterday, and even this morning feels like it should be Saturday. Sparky flatly refused to let me sleep late this morning, and was having none of my demurrals. I did sleep well last night, so there is that, and I feel pretty good this morning. I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday. I ran an errand, did a chore or two, but mostly just sat in my chair with Sparky in my lap watching documentaries about World War II battles in the Pacific, which have never felt got the proper attention, even during the war; our basic history classes focused mostly on Hitler and the Nazis and the war in Europe. (I’ve always thought an espionage novel set in Egypt during the second World War would be fun and interesting–Africa also gets short shrift in basic histories.) We got pizza from That’s Amore for dinner last night, and watched a new episode of The Shards, which is interesting but very strange. We also watched an episode of Reacher, and yes, the scene where they have to explain onlyfans to him was absolutely hilarious. Alan Ritchson is just so perfect as Reacher it’s almost scary.

And every time I watch an episode I think, when and if this show ends he could lost some bulk and play Travis McGee. I do think those books might be too sexist and dated to be adapted now, but you never know. I do remember them fondly.

SO my birthday was lovely. I got tons of messages and wishes all over social media, and didn’t try to keep up with them all after a certain point. I’ll take some time today to go through everything and say thanks to everyone. But I was aware of all of them, so give me some time to get caught up. Thanks for making a bitter old queen feel so beloved! We are going to see Spider-Man this afternoon in Harahan, and we’re stopping at Costco on the way back home. (I need to make a list.) Today is mostly going to be about seeing the movie and Costco, so most of the rest of the day will be for chores and reading. OH! I also sent out a newsletter yesterday; you can read it by clicking here. So, I did do some things yesterday, but for the most part I took it easy, as I will today, too.

The Penn State cocaine ring has been interesting while sort of amusing at the same time. When I first saw the headline, I thought my money’s on Delta Upsilon and Sigma Chi–with Kappa Sigma and Deke coming in as strong possibilities. So, when I turned out to be right about which fraternities it was, it amused me. It also answered a question I’d been pondering for awhile: are the current Greek systems still mired in cocaine use like they were in the 1980s? I wrote a noir story about college sorority girls in “This Town,” which explored hedonism and fallout from partying at fraternity houses, wrapped up in a lovely Mardi Gras/Fat Tuesday package. I’d been wanting to write a novella about Chanse investigating his old fraternity at LSU for a suspicious death; the cocaine ring would be a nice addition to that story (it’s called “Once a Tiger”)…which means following the story (as I’ve been following the suspicious deaths stories of Noah Presgrove and Nolan Wells) and taking notes.

And on that note, I’m going to head into the spice mines and get some of these chores handled. Have a lovely Friday, everyone, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

The Sipsey River as it winds through the Bankhead Forest in Alabama.

Promise to Try

It’s my birthday, and I made the enormous mistake of giving Sparky a new catnip toy this morning and now he’s high as a kite and zooming around the apartment, with the occasional launch of a crazed kitty at me in full play-attack mode. Needless to say, I’m regretting giving him that toy!

And just like that, I qualify for senior discounts. Funny, I don’t feel any older this morning. I’ve never been a big birthday person, for any number of reasons (primarily because outside of my parents, no one else ever cared much about it, which I will unpack at some point in the newsletter), and the older I get the less fuss I want made of it. I really prefer to just spend the day hanging out at home with Sparky and Paul, very low-key. I’ll watch some shit on television, and do some reading; maybe even take some notes on something, anything, that I am working on currently. But no pressure at all, and that’s the lovely thing. A day of ignoring the world and everything else going on and just having some peaceful, relaxing down time. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? It does, indeed. The house is messy, so I may slowly and gradually do things, too, but the primary goal for the day is to stay off-line as much as possible and just have a lovely quiet day at home.

Sparky also let me sleep late this morning, for which I am grateful, and even slept in the bed with me after checking on me at the usual time I get up. The no-alarm confused him, I think–hey you’re supposed to get up to the loud noise–which is why he curled up in the crook of my legs and went to sleep.Yesterday was fine. It was a relatively easy and mellow day at the office, and I ran some errands when I got off work. Paul got home while I was catching up on the news, and we watched another episode of Furious, which took another turn last night I wasn’t expecting. We’re caught up now, and have to wait for the next episodes to air, so we can catch up on The Shards and Reacher in the meantime. There’s also a couple of movies streaming that I want to see–Obsession and The Devil Wears Prada 2. And the final season of Outer Banks dropping today on Netflix like another birthday present for me. I also want to read more today, and finish the birthday newsletter I started…but there’s no rush. It’s about getting older and not being ashamed or afraid of the word old. I wouldn’t, for example, want to be younger now than I am, and frankly, now that my health is pretty far along on its way to 100%, I actually feel pretty good most of the time other than the occasional ache or pain; and you know, I was often sore when I was younger because I worked out.

And yes, we are definitely seeing the new Spider-Man tomorrow.

I also got caught up on the new season of Real Housewives Ultimate Girls’ Trip, and I have to say I really am enjoying seeing the other women bonding over not liking Vicki. Them’s my girls!

So, I am going to get another cup of coffee and have some breakfast. There’s a load of laundry I want to do, and the dishes need to be done, and some minor straightening up I also need to get done and handled, and get cleaned up as well. Sparky has calmed down now enough for me to safely navigate the apartment without getting attacked, so it’s also safe out there.

Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will see you tomorrow morning!

A very young Michael Biehn posing as St. Sebastian

Express Yourself

Wednesday, Wednesday, my last day of work this week! And yes, it’s my Birthday Eve. The last day of being sixty-four. Am I having heavy thoughts about being old and officially a senior citizen? Fuck no. I’m happy I made it this far–the odds were not in my favor. I turned twenty-one the year the New York Slimes first reported the appearance of a strange illness that only seemed to affect gay men (later, Haitians and injection drug users were added to the list), and when I came all the way out eight years later, I just figured I was going to eventually get infected and die. It never happened–I really have lived a charmed life–and there were any other number of close calls with death throughout my life; so many, in fact, that sometimes I forget them all.

That’s a rather somber start, isn’t it?

I slept very well last night, which was marvelous, even if I didn’t want to get up and feel a bit groggy this morning. Yesterday was a nice day at work–not terribly busy and thus was able to keep up on things. I was able to come straight home from work–tonight I have to go pick up the mail and do a very minor grocery run–and spent some nice time with Sparky sleeping in my lap. Paul went out to dinner with a friend, so I was home alone with the kitty for most of the evening. I watched another episode of The Burbs, which I am loving, and did some chores before going to bed relatively early.

College football is a mere couple of weeks away now; LSU opens with Clemson in Baton Rouge over Labor Day weekend, and my Saturdays will officially become dedicated to college football again. Thge preseason polls are out; LSU is ranked 11th in one and 13th in the other. Coming off a tragic 7-6 season that finished off Brian Kelly1‘s time in Baton Rouge (I don’t mind the season since it rid of us of him), that’s kind of surprising. I know everyone is expecting magic this first season with Lane Kiffin as coach, but we should really temper our excitement some. The schedule is brutal, and includes games at two places that want Coach Kiffin burned in effigy if not reality; Tennessee and Mississippi. These polls are not quite as bad as last year, though, which had LSU in the top five after beating Clemson in the opener, which was insane. No one knew whether either team was any good at the time, and Clemson has definitely not been on brand for quite some time now. Polls mean nothing, in football as in politics, and all that matters is what happens on the field on Saturdays. Obviously, I’d love to see LSU make a run for the natty, but it’s also not the end of the world if we’re not there yet.

Is it wrong to be looking forward to the long weekend so much? I don’t know that I’ll do a whole lot on my birthday tomorrow; I usually take the day off from anything approximating actual work–I’ll do chores and read for a bit, of course–but for the most part, I plan on being bored as fuck tomorrow. I think we’re going to Costco this weekend, and we’re planning on seeing Spider-Man. Not a lot of plans for a four day weekend, right? I do think tomorrow I will stay off-line most of the day. I have a newsletter to get out and a blog entry to write, and once that’s taken care of, I am walking away from the computer. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I’ll see you here again tomorrow morning. See you then!

The Sipsey River bottoms on my uncle’s farm. The river was high that spring.
  1. Hey, I was at least willing to give him a chance. He wound up ending worse than he started. ↩︎

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. ↩︎