Category: movies

In Your Letter

Halloween morning in Baton Rouge and I am up, needing to get everything packed and into the car so i can check out before my panels so I can escape as soon as my signing is over. That sounds a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? This is actually a trial run for my anxiety medication, really; I’ve not done anything public like this in years and this is my first time on anxiety medication, so will see how good it is, won’t we? This is probably going to be a shorter entry than usual; laptop/hotel combination isn’t optimal. Hilariously, I was rushing to finish that short story, and for some reason, thought the deadline was the 31st; it was actually Octobr 1st, which was…rather stupid. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened, either, and it’s more evidence of why I fucking need to put things on my goddamned calendar. Oh, well. On the other hand, the story finally works so that’s something; maybe I can try to get it published in another market. That’s two deadlines I’ve fucked up this year for short stories.

I truly continue to be amazed that I have a career of any kind in this business. I am so consistently terrible about the business side of the business and need to constantly remind myself that it is a business. Heavy heaving sigh. But it is what it is, and I can promise to try to be better about it in the future and do nothing about it, which happens all the time.

I procrastinated departing New Orleans yesterday as long as I could, finally getting on the road around three-ish. There was traffic in New Orleans as always, at the usual suspects: the Superdome dysfunction junction, the Causeway, and Clearview. The drive up was nice, until I hit Baton Rouge traffic, which was the usual nightmare, and by the time I got to the hotel and checked in I was tired, hungry, and crabby. Valet parking was also a mess (and also not a choice), and so by the time I hauled my overnight bag into my room, I was kind of over everything. So, yes, sue me—I skipped the party because I wasn’t in the mood. I didn’t drive up for the party—I didn’t want to do two panels after driving up here—but it was merely an option. I didn’t want to go and not get back in time to have something to eat at a decent hour. What can I say? I put my pajamas on, ordered me some room service, and curled up in bed to read. (I also listened to a Tananarive Due short story on the way up here, “Battle of the Round House,” which was about exodusters in Kansas, which was no end of delight for me—because I love that history, because one of the dead little towns where we lived was actually a Black town for decades until it dried up and blew away, which I only learned recently. Not to mention how good of a writer she is, and she’s become one of my favorite horror writers—hell, writers with no adjective in front. I’ll be driving Ellen Byron and her husband back to New Orleans, dropping them off at the airport where they will be picking up their rental car. And then it’s home, with a possible grocery stop on the way home. Stranger things have happened, you know.

I did finish Mazywood last night before falling asleep; it was terrific and I truly enjoyed it (more on thta later, of course), and must say again how marvelous Tananarive Due is as an artist. She’s truly remarkable, and if you love horror and Hollywood history, this is an excellent read for you.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning from my workspace in the windows. Till then, and as always, thanks for stopping by.

Follow My Heart

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I didn’t sleep well, so I feel a bit off this morning–I’ve kind of have felt weird all week, but last night I figured it out; I keep forgetting that my meds remove my mental anxiety, but my subconscious continues to send anxiety messaging to my body, which reacts…it’s very disconcerting, but not enough to stop taking them, ever. It’s nice not having my mind going into those horrible spirals anymore. Last night, I was very relaxed and comfortable in bed but never felt like I went into a deep sleep and kept waking up. But I don’t feel tired, just off a bit still–identifying why doesn’t solve the problem. I am hoping for a good day before my work at home day/drive to Baton Rouge for author party tomorrow. I plan on going to the party and probably just having a single glass of white wine (if that) and heading back to the hotel to read in bed–I’d love to finish Mazywood before the 31st, but it’s not a big deal if I don’t. See? That would have stressed me out before medication.

We finished watching Below, which really took a turn in the final two episodes I most definitely didn’t see coming. At the time, I was disappointed with the sharp turn it took, but the more I think about it the more I do appreciate it, even if there was kind of a tonal shift in the story. Josh Hartnett has aged beautifully, and he is good as the male lead, an ice harvester trying to scrape out a living for him and his kids on a rough little island off the Newfoundland coast. I was also pleased to see two familiar faces in Charlie Heaton (Stranger Things) and Rohan Campbell (The Hardy Boys). The episodes average about thirty minutes or so; so it can be taken in little bites or all at once in a binge pretty easily.

I also managed to get a newsletter out for Halloween Horror Month, in which I revisited the book version of The Amityville Horror (click on the blue if you want to read it), which actually offended my intelligence on the second read, approximately fifty years after the first. I don’t know what went before my own awareness of these things (I have started saying “I noticed this first” rather than stating something as a fact; because just because I didn’t experience, or was aware of, something doesn’t mean that that it was new when I discovered it for the first time.) I did notice, because my interest was intrigued, by things that cannot be explained, and that seemed to be very prevalent in my second decade. I did always love Ripley’s Believe It or Not on the comics page, and used to buy the book collections…which naturally led me to curiosity about things like Atlantis (whether it was the first time I’d heard of it or not, Atlantis the Lost Continent on the afternoon movie is a film I never forgot), the Bermuda Triangle, UFOs, Area 51–all those marvelous things that popped up into the culture during the 1970s, were all things I explored as a teenager. (It was also the decade that saw a horror revival with Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist and The Other.)

I also spend some time yesterday working on a newsletter essay about the trap of masculinity and rigid definitions of this; I’ve always felt that, since I am a man, anything I do is therefore masculine by definition. Maybe not in the way society likes to define masculinity, at any rate, but who made those rules, why are they so restrictive, and why does raising a son seem to mean breaking his spirit and turning him into an emotionally stunted, distant person? I often wonder–and I don’t have the time to investigate–I can’t research everything I think is interesting, after all–if men are performing masculinity for approval (which means you ain’t no alpha, bitch boi) rather than actually feeling it…it could explain a lot about the so-called “masculinity crisis.” I also wonder if an infant with no socializing as of yet will actually be drawn to toys and colors that are traditionally gendered, rigidly. (No straight man would be caught wearing pink, at least not until the 80s, without suspicion, is another example of this idiocy. (One of the reasons I want to revisit Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show is because a lot of the boys’ behavior is just that, a performance, especially from Sonny. There’s also some queer content in the book which especially needs revisiting (remember, McMurtry co-wrote the screenplay for Brokeback Mountain).

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will chat with you again tomorrow morning once Sparky gets me out of bed. Till then!

The Sipsey River bottoms on the old family farm in Alabama. It was high because there had been a lot of rain.

Take It On The Run

Wednesday and somehow, we’ve made it to the middle of the week. There’s only a few more days left in Spooky Season, so I’ve got to get moving on reading Mazywood, although I can also listen to it on the drive to Baton Rouge and can finish reading it while up there on Friday night, or when I get back to the city on Sunday. My responsibilities for the day end at three, and so I’ll probably get home around five.

Oh, here is my schedule for Saturday in Baton Rouge:

11:00 am to Noon
Iberville Building, Le Francois, Room C
Rebels, Empires, and Impossible Choices in Young Adult Sci-Fi
Kristen Illarmo, Against the Red Sky: Colony Exposed
Yoon Ha Lee, Starstrike
with moderator Greg Herren
(Ages 12 to 17)

1:00 pm to 2:00 pm
Bienville Building, First Floor, Conference Center 173
Killer Calendar: New Orleans Mysteries for Every Season
Ellen Byron, A Murderer’s Guide to Mardi Gras: A Vintage Cookbook Mystery and A Crescent City Christmas: A Vintage Cookbook Mystery
Greg Herren, Hurricane Season Hustle: A Scotty Bradley Mystery
Michael Rigg, Shadows of Frenchmen: A Jonathan Gray, M.D. Mystery

2:15 pm to 3:00 pm
Cavalier House Books Tent
Book Signing

So, as you see, I should be home by five. It shouldn’t be an issue, since I’ll get home early enough to do some things and not be a total loser, if nothing else I can watch the night football games, or not; it looks the evening line-up is Texas-Mississippi State or Missouri-Arkansas; I’m not sure why Georgia-Florida isn’t a marquee night game, but it’s not. I should be able to catch the end of that one; LSU is off this week (the Louisiana Book Festival is always scheduled for LSU’s bye week, in case you’re wondering about priorities in the Pelican State) so not really caring too much to miss games, frankly. It’s also Halloween on Saturday, which will make the drive through town from the interstate interesting. Halloween is a big weekend in New Orleans, as I am sure one can imagine, and we turn the costume dial up to at least 20 on any costuming holiday….even so, I don’t miss going out for the evening, either.

Yesterday was a pretty good day, over all. We weren’t busy but not slow, either, so I didn’t have a lot of down time because I was trying to stay caught up on everything administrative and my other responsibilities. I was feeling a bit tired on the way home when I stopped to make groceries; tonight I have to run uptown to get the mail. I managed to get some things that were weighing on me done yesterday, too–I don’t know why I procrastinate on some things because I don’t want to deal with them at the moment but…it’s never terrible, you know? I always make things worse in my head than they actually are, and the meds don’t help with that, alas.

Apparently we’re cancelling Freddy Krueger because (checks notes) he molested and murdered children…um, he is the villain of the films. Just because he also had funny lines doesn’t mitigate that he’s a predator; are people really this media illiterate? (Ha ha ha, what am I saying? Of course they are.) Freddy isn’t, and never was, the hero: he was a child molester/murderer who was murdered and burned alive by the Elm Street parents, so in the original he was invading the dreams of their children and killing them in their sleep. How that turned him into a pop culture icon was two things: Robert Englund’s scenery chewing performance, and his snarky-funny dialogue. I am sure there are any number of academic tomes, essays, and dissertations on how serial murderers like Michael Meyes, Jason Voorhees, and Freddy Krueger became the heroes of their franchises; we are all primed to root for the main character through being conditioned by media (people think Lolita is a love story, which always makes me roll my eyes)–and you can see the difference in the Scream series, where the killers change in every film and the survivors are the stars. We root for Sidney, not Ghost-face, who is inevitably as witty and snarky as Freddie.

A big shout out in thanks to Kristopher Zgorski–the font of all information, I swear1–who let me know you can buy the entire run of Friday the 13th–The Series on DVD, which will arrive today or tomorrow! Then I can start my gradual re-watch of the show, which will include episodes I’ve not seen; it wasn’t a network show but rather syndicated so I would often forget to watch when it aired. I had friends who also watched and I watched it with them when it was on, or watching an episode they’d recorded. I loved the show and the entire concept behind it–an antique store selling objects cursed by the devil, with each episode centering on one object the team was trying to track down by checking newspapers for odd deaths (if it is ever rebooted–please and thank you, God–they can do the Supernatural thing of looking on-line). I still want to do some kind of supernatural style series of my own a la Sookie Stackhouse/Dark Shadows, but this concept, much as I love it, wouldn’t really work outside of New Orleans and I’d rather do it in a more rural, bayou parish.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely morning and day, Constant Reader, and I will see you again tomorrow morning.

Will this revealing lace pair of briefs escape the eye of the Meta censors? It shouldn’t, since it’s from one of their ads, but we will see, won’t we?

  1. Check out his blog, an excellent source for good reading, by clicking here. ↩︎

Moving in Stereo

Sunday night and I am in my hotel in Alabama, having arrived less than half an hour ago and getting checked in, bringing things in for the night, and settling into my sweats and house slippers. My room is very cold–so hopefully I’ll sleep well tonight. Tomorrow is the cemetery for Mom’s birthday (would have been 84), and after that we’ll head up to Kentucky, which is about seven hours or so from here (when I drive from New Orleans up there directly, halfway is about a little past Birmingham). The big driving day will be Friday, when I drive back to New Orleans (and will get caught in Chattanooga, huzzah!). But I’m glad I am doing this trip, the drive up was most pleasant, and I stopped at Jack’s in Ellisville, Mississippi, which is now my sweet spot. I also waited to get gas until Tuscaloosa, so I have an almost completely full tank for tomorrow. I am really enjoying listening to Shadowland, but am confused by a few things so I need to check the book itself. (Moments later.) Okay, I was right, and I also know why I was confused. No worries! My mind does wander sometimes in the car when I’m listening–something in the narrative may strike my imagination and send it winging off for a few moments, and I miss things. I also shouldn’t start listening until I am on 59 N and through New Orleans and over the lake and through Slidell and the area where 10, 12 and 59 all come together–one of the many messy highway convergences in southeastern Louisiana (there are some horrific ones in Baton Rouge, too), because there’s too much traffic and so I need to pay more attention to that than listening.

Okay, it’s Saturday morning and obviously, I didn’t post while I was away–nor did I finish the post I’d started the night I arrived in Alabama. Monday we visited Mom, and then I drove up to Kentucky behind Dad’s truck. The drive up was pleasant, the visit was lovely–made even lovelier by me unplugging completely from everything–and I drove home yesterday. I finished reading Shadowland (loved it) and am loving Mazywood. I-75S was a parking lot between Chattanooga and Knoxville, which added about another hour or so to the drive. I listened to Riley Sager’s The Only One Left on the drive home, and it was about sixty degrees when I finally got home and unloaded the car and unpacked. I slept well during the trip, but oh, did my own bed feel fantastic when I finally went to bed last night. (I also missed Sparky a lot, and he’s been glued to me since I walked in the door.) It’s in the 50’s this morning, and I have a couple of errands to run this morning before LSU’s 11 am start time this morning for the Mississippi State game. In Kentucky, I watched Beat the Devil and Gaslight–the Gothic tradition was very strong in that movie (more on that later)–which was kind of fun, and I am behind on everything I am watching–reality shows in particular, which should be fun to get caught up on as the weekend progresses.

Gaslight is an excellent movie, and where the term “gaslighting” comes from; if you’re unfamiliar with the film, it’s not a spoiler (plus, movie is from 1944) to say the story is about a young woman whose husband is toying with her mind, making her believe she is losing her mind. It’s brilliantly conceived, and if to modern eyes it might seem a bit old-fashioned (why doesn’t she stand up for herself?) but women had so little power or control of their lives once they were married…I’ve always felt that Gothic suspense is, for want of a more accurate term, is “women’s noir”–domestic suspense also falls sometimes under that umbrella–because, while they may not be about amoral women trying to get what they want through criminal activity, they are about women’s fears, and I am sure someone has made the connection between the popularity of that style of film/book in the mid to late 20th century because women were so powerless, and its decline after the rise of feminism. I’ve always loved Gothics–which is why I have such affinity for both crime and horror’s Gothic sub-genres–and Gaslight encapsulates those fears so perfectly–and Ingrid Bergman deserved the Oscar she won for it; she also was at the peak of her beauty at the same time, and is just so stunning on screen that you can’t take your eyes off of her–and she had such beautiful skin!

Sigh. So much to get done! So, I should probably head into the spice mines this morning. If I owe you an email, apologies–I’ll hopefully get to them over the next few days–and cleaning and errands and…sighs again. Anyway, enjoy your day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back again tomorrow morning. Till then!

This is Orleans Parish Criminal Court, on Tulane Avenue. The square white building behind on the right is Orleans Parish Prison (OPP).

All Mixed Up

Monday and back to the office with me. Friday I am driving up to Alabama to meet Dad to visit Mom for their birthdays, and then I’m following Dad up to Kentucky for a few days. I need the time away from the office, methinks, and it’ll be a nice break. I feel pretty good this morning, all rested and everything–I woke up several times during the night but was able to easily fall back asleep–so we will see how the day goes, won’t we? I was still a bit out of it yesterday, woozy from the shots I suppose, but managed to get some things done despite not having much energy. It was lovely coming downstairs to a clean kitchen this morning, and so hopefully when I get home tonight from work I can empty the dishwasher and reload it. I also didn’t have anything delivered over the weekend–I just couldn’t ask someone to deliver things when I didn’t want to go out in the pouring rain, especially since there was street flooding happening. We’re out of bread, too, so I definitely have to stop tonight. Sigh, it’s always something, isn’t it?

I did manage to get some things done yesterday despite being listless–but I still have a lot to do before I leave on Friday. I added things to the to-do list so I hopefully won’t forget to do anything. I actually felt kind of like I didn’t do much of anything, but…this morning thinking about it, I did do some things. I worked on the book yesterday, which was pleasant and surprisingly fun. Even with the anxiety medication, you see, I still get reluctant to reread work in progress because I’m afraid it will suck and I won’t be able to fix it, and it’s going to mean so much more work…but once I started, it went very well and I actually had fun with it, and made lots of notes and marked it up pretty well. I need to do Chapter 5, and then it will all be caught up and I can move through and fix it all; and then move on the next third of the book. It’s going to be short, and I am getting more and more excited about writing this book and telling this story.

We were in either a flash food warning or watch pretty much the whole day yesterday, and it rained all day, which gave it that lazy feeling I love so much. I did spend some time reading The Dead Zone, and the book is really exceptionally well done. King’s early work is all so amazing, really. He was on a major streak until The Tommyknockers was released, and I really hated that book. I’d have to go through the list of all his books, but I don’t think (off the top of my hand) that any of his post-Tommyknockers work was as good as his pre-Tommyknockers work. I could be wrong, probably am–I did love the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, and especially Holly Gibney.

I still felt low-energy yesterday. My legs and joints ached, and I had a bit of a fever making me uncomfortable. We watched the sixth episode of AHS:13, moved on to The Mandalorian and Grogu, which wasn’t amazing but was entertaining enough; I don’t know why people hated it so much unles people are just really into hating Star Wars nowadays…and then we started Neagley, which is excellent; as good, if not better, than Reacher. Huzzah!

I had to get the ISPN number for Hurricane Season Hustle for the Louisiana Book Festival bookseller, and as always, it’s just easier to get it from Amazon, and I noticed the book has twenty reviews (isn’t that the magic number?) and they average to 4 1/2 stars, which was pleasing to my ego; I don’t ever look because I’d rather not know and I don’t care, really; I don’t need outside validation anymore for my writing. I’m glad people enjoy my work, and i am grateful people do, believe me, but I love Bette Davis’ response: “Other people’s opinions of me are none of my business.” It’s much better that way, really; we can’t care what other people think or say about us when we aren’t around and I don’t want to know. Everyone talks about everyone, it’s human nature and some people enjoy being snarky and bitchy with their gossip; I know I certainly do (although I am usually just listening these days). So, no, it doesn’t bother me when people talk shit about me. And even if someone shares that shit with me, I don’t get upset or angry. How can I when I do the same? I don’t like every book I read or film/television program I watch. If people don’t like my books, I’m sorry you were disappointed, but…there’s nothing I can do about it now so…shrug?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines on this gray gloomy possible drizzly morning in New Orleans. Have a great day, and I will see you again tomorrow morning. Ta!

Let’s get soaking wet!

Runaway Lover

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office for the week; I have a department meeting tomorrow that I need to come in for. I may stay for a few hours after and do some work here, but on the other hand I may just get back in the car and head home. I guess we’ll see how I feel, but it would be incredibly convenient to get all my errands out of the way. We’re supposed to start getting rain from Polo tomorrow, and continue with flooding rains all weekend…so I am not going to want to leave the house that often. I do have to go get my vaccines Saturday morning–I figured if they make me woozy again like they always do, it’s better to be home. LSU’s game is against McNeese State Saturday night–their fifth night game in a row–and I think a lot of the other games this season will be at night again. All the media alarm bells after the Mississippi loss subsided with the trouncing of Texas A&M last week, but…the remaining schedule remains brutal.

Well, Sparky closed my browser for me (thanks, babe!) and I lost three paragraphs of this entry which I will now try to reconstruct. Sigh.

I was tired when I got home from work yesterday, Sparky was needy, and I just needed to sit for a minute last night before doing anything, but I got sucked into the news–both national and football–and several wormholes (is it just me, but are Youtube videos becoming more and more AI-generated?) opened up for me before I switched over to this HBO documentary series about Warner Brothers–and old Hollywood stuff always works as research for the book. I went to bed shortly after that, and didn’t do a damned bit of chores at all. The apartment is still pretty well kept-up, but there’s some cosmetic cleaning that needs doing, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and reloaded again, and there’s another load of laundry that needs doing, too. I’ll have to take care of some of that tonight so this weekend I can primarily focus on writing and deeper cleaning issues (baseboards, etc.). The house is also currently being painted, so much as I would like to go outside in this cooler clime to clean the windows…probably not going to happen until the house is finished being painted. (I have to negotiate an obstacle course most days when I get home to get into the house.)

Today is also the first day of Halloween Horror Month, in which I try to make sure all my reading and streaming needs are horror-related. I know I am going to revisit Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street–always excellent choices–and it’s always fun to dip into horror, which I need to read more of. I am going to listen to Shadowland by Peter Straub on my trip next Friday to Alabama/Kentucky–can you believe it’s next week already? I can’t–and will take some other horror along to read while I am up there. I am going to start reading The House That Horror Built, and I think on the way home i may listen to a Grady Hendrix novel.

I also need to get back to writing, either on short stories or on the book. I’ve been focusing a lot on writing nonfiction–the newsletters–and while I have really been enjoying doing that (and my writing is improving, which is always a delightful thing), I need to get back on the fiction horse. I’ve kind of been letting my creativity recharge, after finishing that story last weekend, but I definitely need to be climbing back into the saddle again. Maybe tomorrow, during the rains. We’re supposed to get up to five inches over the next few days–but we shouldn’t have any flooding concerns if the rain is spread out. Five inches in two hours or less and the city is underwater.

And on that note, methinks I shall head into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely Friday Eve, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning before my meeting. See you then!

My God, Alan Ritchson is just ridiculously handsome.

Swim

Wednesday morning and we’re making our way through the week nicely, I think. Today is going to be very busy in the clinic, and so I am expecting to be very tired when I get home tonight. That’s fine, the weekend looms, as well as my work-at-home day on Friday. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home, but then I had to make a bed for Sparky out of my lap while I caught up on the news. What a wild day yesterday was, in unimportant news in the overall scheme of things. The whole Ed Sheeran1 torching his career2 wasn’t on my bingo card for 2026, but then again, neither was Arch Manning being a misogynist asshole about Holly Rowe either (he did apologize, both publicly and privately, but…I guess I’ll just chalk that whole mess up to he was smart enough to apologize, even if it reeked of a PR team). Bottom line–grabbing your ankles and bending over for a morally corrupt billionaire doesn’t fly in these times. The country is angry, angry about everything and rightfully so; but…I also don’t have a lot of sympathy (any, really) for the people who gleefully voted for all of this but are so penitent now (not penitent enough to abandon the Republican Party, though) and upset that they aren’t being treated like the “innocent victims” they claim to be–and he “lied” isn’t a defense. I heard him very clearly, and I saw the signs and shirts at the rallies and heard the chants.

If I knew, there’s no reason why you didn’t–because you literally cannot concede, even now, that you based your vote on your own bigotry. Given into, and following, evil isn’t a mistake and you were a very willing participant. We all saw it. You just chose not to, because it felt good to strike a blow for white supremacy, economic disaster, and another forever war. Oh, excuse me, it felt good to strike back against social justice progress and stick it to those libs, right? You voted to hurt queer people and did so with a great big smile on your face…well, this liberal faggot feels nothing for you. Finally, at long last, people are sick to fucking death of your bullshit and you’re finally feeling those consequences you wanted for everyone that you don’t like…and I’m supposed to now feel sorry for you?3 I didn’t vote for you to lose your family’s generational farm and wealth, why should my tax dollars bail your stupid asses out? I’d rather student loan debt be retired than another bailout for MAGA farmers and ranchers.

Life’s hard, bitches. Pull yourselves up by the bootstraps. FREEDOM! Maybe cut back on some of your streaming services, or make coffee at home instead of going to Starbucks. And avocado toast, I hear, is really expensive so don’t waste money on fripperies. Economize. Where’s that American “can do” mentality? Work harder! Maybe do some ride-sharing work, or delivery for an app. There’s all kinds of ways you can make some money to supplement your farm/ranch, isn’t there? You don’t need any of that socialist bail out money, do you? No, you thought “he fucked us but bailed us out with welfare the last time, so he’ll take care of us always”–ha ha ha ha ha.

Fools.

As I mentioned, creating a lap for Sparky last night kept from doing much of anything except watching the news, as I can’t use my laptop with a cat in my lap–and oh, the dirty looks I get whenever I even slightly shift while he’s asleep! Plus, it’s so lovely to come home from work and get affection from a cat. On the way home tonight I have to run some errands, and it’s also supposed to rain today. So, who knows what kind of place I’ll be in tonight when I finally trudge up the stairs and enter the Lost Apartment, having survived another day in the mad jungle. Oh, and my latest newsletter went out this morning; click here to read my takes on Flipper.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Hope your Wednesday is charming, lovely, and happy, Constant Reader, and I will be back bright and early tomorrow morning.

I’ve always loved this image, taken out my bay windows during a thunderstorm around noon on a Sunday a few years ago. It has a real creepy Gothic feel to it.
  1. One can’t help but be amused that Sheeran’s statement, primarily focused on him being “responsible” to the other artists on his tour–resulted in them all quitting. That did make me laugh. When I read his statement, all I could think was, dude, this is going to blow up in your face, and I was right. Regardless where you come down in your opinions and thoughts about Gaza and Palestine, the principle here–suppressing of political speech for an artist–should concern you, and it’s partly why Sheeran is being dragged for filth so intensely. ↩︎
  2. By the way, the billionaire who caused all this is the one at whose wedding he performed at, and has called “super sweet” before…yes, those are words often used to describe billionaires. Yes, Ed, you sacrificed your public image for a “super sweet” billionaire suppressing free speech. I’d delete you off my Spotify, but guess what? I don’t listen to your hackneyed pablum music. Way to be a free speech warrior and stand up for your fellow artists….god knows, we certainly can’t expect the half-billionaire cosplaying as Irish (cultural appropriation, especially when he has no clue how the Irish feel about oppression) to stand on principle. ↩︎
  3. Also, did you mask during COVID? Did you get your vaccines? Because as a public health worker, there’s yet another reason for me to completely despise you, your ancestors, and your descendants. Consider it a generational curse. ↩︎

Ray of Light

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. Sparky is being needy this morning for some reason, but that’s fine. I’m still a bit groggy this morning, but I finally had a deep night’s sleep–I didn’t sleep well all weekend–and have a lot of emails to answer. When I get to the office this morning, I have to finish setting up the new testing room I use at work since they moved me last week, andI don’t know how busy we are going to be, but I need to get cracking on so many things. I’ve been a bit lethargic since my birthday–subconscious depression on being a senior, perhaps?–but…while understandable, I don’t have to like it because consciously it doesn’t bother me at all.

Or perhaps I doth protest a bit too much.

The Saints lost yesterday 31-30 in overtime, which was exciting if disappointing, and it was, overall, a pretty decent overall day. I hadn’t slept well, so wasn’t a ball of fire yesterday morning, but I did get another load of dishes done and did some more cleaning and organizing during the Saints game. Once that was over, we switched to the US Open, followed by this week’s Reacher, which is always fun. I then queued up another episode of Scream Queens–the Lea Michele makeover episode–and then we watched Supergirl, which was far better than I had heard or hoped it would be. I’ve always been partial to Supergirl–aka Superman’s lesser known, far overshadowed cousin–and was crushed when DC killed her off in the Crisis on Infinite Earths reboot of their entire universe. She returned in that universe later, but she was a by-product of the matrix that healed Superman after he died in the 1990s. I hated that the first big screen adaptation was so badly fumbled, and I didn’t last more than a couple of episodes of the television series. Bit I greatly enjoyed this movie, and Milly Alcock was terrific. I always thought her back story was dark and twisted–she was older when Argo City was destroyed, and so her PTSD is way worse than Clark’s, as the only survivors of an extinct race. I’m sure it didn’t do as well as it should have because the comic book incels were all girls can’t be super-heroes, duh as they opened yet another bag of Cheetos Puffs.

There was a lot of stupidity on-line yesterday, and all I could do was roll my eyes at the ignorance on display. I think my favorite stupid post was some stupid homophobic bitch who referred to The Song of Achilles as centering “Achilles’ often overlooked friend.” Um, did you even fucking read the book, you idiot? Yes, yes, they were just friends. Really close ones, the kind that actually fuck, and were buried together so they could be side by side for all eternity. Suuuuure, Jan.

But as I sat in my easy chair watching the US Open final after the Saints game yesterday, an idea flashed through my head for a reboot of a short story I want to submit to an anthology call. I started writing the story originally during #metoo (yes, it was a #metoo story) in which I had a horrible male author drop dead at a cocktail party honoring his retirement from teaching creative writing at the master’s level, who had helped launch a lot of careers–but he was always an inappropriate pig with his women students, and my main character–a lesbian crime writer, witnessed some strange activity at the party before his death. (I also had his past behavior echo things I’ve seen or heard male authors say to women authors–y’all really have no clue what women think of you, do you?). I’ve rewritten it any number of times but it never really has worked, and….then last night, I knew how to make it work and the new opening line came to me. I got my laptop out, wrote three paragraphs (it’s completely rebooted now), and then opened the current chapter of the book and wrote slightly over a thousand words on it, too. I also solved the mystery of the book last night, and realized my killer (in the book) wasn’t the real killer and then it all clicked into place. So, I was very pleased and happy when I went to bed last night, which was awesome, and then I slept well, which was even more awesome.

So, I am feeling pretty good this morning as I head back into the spice mines. I hope this week will be a good one for all of concerned, and I will be back bright and early in the morning again. See you then!

This was the view from our rental condo in Acapulco twenty years ago. Such a lovely trip.

Forbidden Love

Saturday morning and there’s football today! LSU plays tonight, in Death Valley as Louisiana Tech drops in for a visit. What will we see tonight as opposed to last week? I guess we’ll wait and see. There are good, interesting games pretty much all day today, too–so I’ll probably have the telvision on while I do things. I did some chores yesterday, but my mind kept wandering. I finished my 9/11 remembrance newsletter, and decided to schedule it for this morning rather than sending it out last night. I’ll share the link here tomorrow, and it’ll wind up on my socials, too. Is that how you say it? I am really terrible at using social media to promote myself.

I didn’t sleep well last night–never went into the deep restful sleep I generally have, so am a little bit rung out. Yesterday was a good day, for all my mind wanderings. I couldn’t stay focused on anything yesterday–not the worst thing in the world–but was able to get some chores done, and the house is looking much better overall this morning, which pleases me. I ran my errands (which included picking up my pre-ordered copy of Laurie R. King’s latest, Those Who Are Gone, and it’s always a delight having the new King on hand) and rested and relaxed for most of the day when I wasn’t cleaning or working on the laundry. I also started watching South Pacific but turned away after a bit when my mind started wandering again–there will definitely be more later–and I found old episodes of Flipper on Youtube (it’s a long story, but more on that later) so I watched the first episode. (It was sadly terrible in an almost comic way.) I also caught up on Real Housewives of Orange County, the worst of the housewives shows, but somehow I still wind up hate-watching.

I decided to give Scream Queens another try, too. We started watching it years ago, but I didn’t enjoy it because I hated both Emma Roberts and Lea Michele with a passion and refused to watch after seeing the pilot, but I don’t mind either so much anymore, so I thought why not give it another try and this time, the humor actually hit, so I am going to keep watching when Paul’s not around, because he doesn’t care to watch it–but he was laughing with me while I watched, but went back upstairs after a little while.

I wasn’t happy to be proven right this week about James Talarico, but his eager willingness to oppress trans people to appease bigots was no surprise to me.. I never trusted him, and if he does make it into the Senate, mark my words–another Sinema or Fetterman, watch and see. The way he allowed his supporters to come for Jasmine Crockett and said nothing while they undermined her as “unelectable” but now are screaming for her to help him win the race. SHe’s held him at arm’s distance since the primary, and now I have to wonder if it was more than “hurt feelings” (as the white leftists who dragged her for filth now “want to unite”–they won’t, but we need to, and am sick of it; I for one will never forgive them for calling me pro-genocide because I was voting for Kamala. Imagine the fucking nerve of some privileged straight asshole in their twenties saying that to a gay man in his sixties who survived the 80s. Fuck them now, fuck them then, and fuck them forever) and if she knew more than she was letting on. He sure threw the trans folk under the bus without a hesitation or a second thought, once it was convenient and he thought it would get him votes. You can never trust a Christian, and until it’s no Christians–it’s all fucking Christians. I do not trust him on marriage equality or any other queer equality measures. He’s not even bothering to pretend anymore. What other progressive stances is he going to walk back now for political expedience?

So much for his “christian” love.

We could have had Jasmine Crockett, and no one will ever convince me that they weren’t racists…because they sure had no problem with dog-whistles and bald-faced lies. I am no fan of Hakeem Jeffries, but when you have leftists basing their attacks in racist language? Miss me forever. You cannot be progressive and racist, period. If you are a bigot, you cannot be progressive. Please note: the leftists also are not condemning those racists, and–they have no interest in marginalized populations, so they’re basically asking us to trade oppressors. I voted Democratic for years, even when they weren’t much better on queer rights than Republicans; but that’s not the case anymore. If leftists can throw a hissy fit during a presidential election and not vote (or voted for Trump), I am going to do the same. I won’t be holding my nose and voting for the lesser of two evils anymore when the lesser keeps spitting in my face and telling me it’s raining.

After all, isn’t this the example the leftists have set for all of us? It’s their way or Armageddon? Good luck getting bigots elected without the Black vote–because they aren’t forgiving you for not voting blue no matter who, especially when you’re saying that to them now. And way to piss on the queer community. I don’t trust that wolf in sheep’s clothing, and never will. He showed us this week who he really is–a lying backstabbing opportunist ready to sacrifice marginalized communities at the drop of a hat for power.

Such a good Christian.

You can never go wrong not trusting a straight white christian man. I’ve certainly found that to be true, over and over again–real Christians are the ones who aren’t trying to convert everyone or preach in the streets, per the New Testament.

Faith without works is dead, and Talarico can go fuck himself with a razor-wire studded vibrator. What Christian kicks a marginalized community in the teeth like this?

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and going on my day. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will be back here in the morning.

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.

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