Category: new car

Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You?

Tonight, Oshun and Cleopatra roll down St. Charles Avenue to kick off the Uptown parade season, and I will be trapped in my neighborhood tonight through Sunday night. Next week is the true insanity, beginning on Wednesday and going for almost a week. Yay for Carnival! I have a shit ton of things to do today, personally and professionally, so it’s going to be an interesting all-over-the-place kind of day. I’m meeting a friend for dinner at five fifteen, and will have to walk about six blocks to get there, but that’s not a big deal so long as my Achilles tendons don’t get out of control. I just need to keep my wits about me today, not get distracted, and keep nose affixed firmly to grindstone or else the day will go completely off the rails–which nobody wants or needs. I also have a meeting this morning and lots of work-at-home duties to get done today. AUGH. A busy busy day for me, and not off to a good start, as I didn’t get up early but lolled in bed late.

It didn’t rain on Wednesday night, so I didn’t feel as deeply rested yesterday morning as I had Wednesday morning. Maybe I should get one of those rain sound machines to sleep with? I don’t know if the noise will be as effective with the chilly wet air, though. I used to have easy listening CD’s a hundred years ago–morning rain, forest, waterfall, etc.–but don’t think I ever used them. It also didn’t rain last night, either–and the sun is very bright this morning. It’s about forty-eight degrees outside, which isn’t terrible. I am not certain if I’ll go out to the corner tonight or not–will depend, actually, on how tired I am when I get home from dinner. But for now, I just had some toast and finished my first cup of coffee and am feeling pretty good–so we’ll see how it all goes, won’t we?

Maybe the saddest thing that happened this week was the death knell of a once-great urban newspaper, the Washington Post. Nowhere in anything I read about this latest butchering of the paper did anyone note that there was a lot of backlash to the Post after Jeff Bezos cancelled the paper’s endorsement of Kamala Harris because his fellow pedophile and favored candidate wouldn’t like it. I recently subscribed to the Post–despite my disapproval of them, it was a good deal and they had book coverage, sports coverage, and recipes–and got a great deal at ninety-nine cents per month for digital access, so I figured a dollar wasn’t much to give them, and would cancel when that rate lapsed and went back to normal. It sure didn’t take long for them to make my dollar a waste of money, did they? I also didn’t see anyone else drawing a line from Watergate to right-wing hatred of the Post and this final vengeance for taking down Nixon. (Likewise, they’ve also managed to neuter the New York Times and CBS; the Times reported on the Pentagon Papers, and CBS opposed Vietnam. Conservatives are nothing if not vengeful and vindictive, and can carry a grudge for a very long time.) I had misgivings when Bezos bought the Post, but it took him ten years to take an Elon Musk-like chainsaw to the Post. He’s a monster. I wonder how many kids he raped on Epstein Island? You know he was there.

I think the funniest thing to be about all of this is that the Chatelaine of Castle TERF is in the files. That’s right, that bigoted old bitch who “wants to protect girls and women” is in the Epstein files and was buddy-buddy with him. I knew her fascination with the genitals of children had a much darker origin. Maybe she hates trans kids because she wants to know what genitals they have without checking before molesting them? Yeah, she wraps her bigotry in piety but when you’re friends with the biggest pedophile and sex-trafficker on the planet? Miss me with your concerns about women and children, bitch. The irony that she happily climbed in bed with the Christofascists who’d tried to get her “satanic” books banned and removed from libraries is equally delicious. She jumped into bed with the actual pedophiles and hung around with Epstein. So much for any moral authority she tries to claim. She hates queer people and loves pedophiles. Quite frankly, she deserves worse.

It’s easy to see why religions like Christianity have taken hold–because its basic message is one of elitism and exclusion: we’re going to heaven. Plus, there is nothing fair in this world and there is rarely any justice, so how do the rich and powerful keep the poor and the working class from revolting and guillotining them all? Give them a religion that promises every gets what they deserve in the next world with no proof! It’s easy to see why faith became so popular in the old days–don’t worry about no justice on earth–they’ll get it after they die is some impressive gaslighting, maybe the greatest example of it in history. There was a reason the French Revolution didn’t target ust the upper class–they also targeted the Catholic Church and abolished religion (which often gets left out of the lesson). The promise of the afterlife enables the rich and the powerful to do whatever they please, no matter how heinous, because well, God will send them to hell.

The Olympics have already started, and some of the team figure skating competition has begun, with a good showing by the US team so far, which is very cool. I don’t know how much of the Olympics I’ll be able to actually watch–there are two parades tonight, six tomorrow, and three or four on Sunday. I have to run errands this afternoon so I can get them out of the way because I won’t be able to do much driving after four tonight until Sunday night/Monday morning.

I actually worked on my dystopian story yesterday and it started flowing easily–probably because it isn’t hard to imagine an American dystopia in the near future. But it also felt good to be writing again, and that’s always a good thing. Hopefully I’ll be able to get it finished this weekend.

And speaking of the Epstein files, someone gathered the Epstein emails as an easily searchable Gmail inbox. Just click and you can see if your favorite oligarch or celebrity is there!

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

Seriously, no one does parade floats quite like New Orleans krewes.

No Spoken Word

Thursday, and Parades’ Eve! The fencing and bleachers are up all along St. Charles Avenue, and last night I got to drive the slalom course they turn the Avenue into ever since the terrorist attack onNew Year’s last year. Tomorrow there are two parades, there are six or seven on Saturday, and I think three on Sunday. This is the warm-up weekend before the big final weekend, so we’ll see how it goes. I have to run a bunch of errands tomorrow, too–once my work-from-home duties are completed. I don’t know how productive I am going to be, either. I don’t know that I have the stamina to be out there as much as I could be, either. We shall see. It’s also in the thirties again this morning–it got up in the seventies yesterday, which was weird–and I could feel the floor getting colder last evening through my house shoes. I think the parade weather is going to be in the fifties/sixties, but sunny. We shall see, and we shall also see if my Achilles tendons can handle it just yet–they still are sore and achy. Note to self: look up what to do with sore Achilles tendons.

I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home last night. I was able to fold laundry, do a load of dishes and put them away, and reload the dishwasher to run tonight when I go to bed. The kitchen is in much better condition than it usually is on Thursday morning, so I am not going to have to spend time over the weekend catching up on all those things. We watched another His and Hers (we’ll probably finish it tonight, as there are only two episodes left. There’s also another episode of The Beauty, which I am hate-watching. Paul doesn’t care about that show anymore, so I’ll probably watch it while I am relaxing into my easy chair and bonding with my Sparky. We still haven’t watched the final season of Stranger Things, or the new season of Bridgerton, either. We’re also in the midst of the final countdown to the festivals, the Olympics are starting, parade season, and AUGH. I need to stop procrastinating, don’t I? MY to-do list keeps growing, but very little ever seems to come off of it–which would have led to a complete breakdown before anxiety medication.

Better living through chemistry is definitely a thing I embrace whole-heartedly.

Neil Gaiman tried to come back to social media in light of the Epstein horrors, and I am not really sure what he was thinking. I believe he was driven off social media yet again, but this led to some serious conversations about other author/predators, which led to me discovering precisely why Marion Zimmer Bradley had been canceled, and I might add, ew. I knew it was something bad but I never paid much attention; I’d never read anything of hers other than The Catch Trap, her gay circus romance between aerialists, which…I had some issues with. I have my original copy of it around here somewhere, because I’d always meant to go back and read it again. Overall, I’d enjoyed it, but there was something terribly off about it to me, that kind of made me uneasy as I read it. I also knew that her Arthurian novels were very popular with women, because she told the story through the point of view of the women; but I loved Mary Stewart’s Arthurian novels so much I didn’t think I would enjoy the Bradley novels–and would always be comparing them unfavorably, and there are lots of other things to read, you know. Now, I’m glad I never did, and a critical reread of The Catch Trap knowing what Bradley and her evil husband were doing to their own children will color it. It also makes some of the stuff that didn’t sit right with me in the book make a lot more sense to me now. Anyway, thank you, Karin Kallmaker, for letting me know.

Okay, I looked up the Achilles tendon stuff and the recommendations are rest, ice, and stretching, which means getting my ice machine down from the attic tonight, and we shall see how that will go.

And on that note, y’all, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. Enjoy your day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

So pretty!

Sister Honey

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, and my last free weekend before parades. It’s so weird to think that parades are starting next weekend. Holy shit, right? But a week from tomorrow is the first night of parades, with Alla and Cleopatra, with six on Saturday and three on Sunday before all the true madness really begins the following week. I hope the weather is nice for the parades this year, since this is the first time in years I’m actually feeling like I can enjoy them this season. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand at the corner, but I always seem to forget being old and tired when I am out there and the throws are a-flyin’. I also forget about it being damp and cold, too. Paul and I stood out in the rain one night for Orpheus and had the best time. I slept really well and actually woke up around five, to nap on and off until Sparky became determined to get me up for a feeding. Since I did go to the bathroom when I woke up at five, I saw that he was curled up at my feet in the bed–and when I came back, he cuddled up to my calves. Such a sweet, adorable baby…until he started nipping my fingers so I would get up to feed him.

After I ran my errands in the bitter cold on my way home from work, I came home and just collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky curled up in my lap (after being fed, of course) while I caught up on the day’s horrors–er, news–before turning to the final episode of the finale for Real Housewives of Salt Lake City’s reunion. I’m not really sure there’s any point to these reunions/rehashings of the season–it just gives them all a chance to yell at each other all over again, with a noncommittal resolution that’s seems required by that smug expired twinkie Andy Cohen (at some point I will do a newsletter about the Housewives shows).

The amount of virality that continues with Heated Rivalry and its stars continues to astound and amaze me. It does also please me; I’ve become rather entranced with them myself and feel almost paternally protective of them. I watch reels and videos about them and their journey to international stardom. They all have such adorable personalities, and are all so humble about all this sudden success and fame…and it’s just kind of fun to see, you know?1 And who doesn’t love a rags to riches story? It also amazes me how different Connor Storrie is from the character he played–and I don’t just mean the acting. He looks different. Similar, but different. As Ilya, he doesn’t really use his very expressive face the way he does as himself; so much so that he doesn’t seem like the same person. I feel like physical actors don’t get as much credit as they deserve; I always think of that scene in Superman where Christopher Reeve changes from Clark Kent into Superman but only in posture and physically, and it was extraordinary; he never got the credit he deserved for his acting talent.

Yesterday was an odd one, energy-wise. I wasn’t tired, and I ran my errands on the way home, coming straight home tonight with no stops, might have things delivered if I need anything over the weekend. We had a lot of no-shows yesterday–I think I wound up only seeing two or three people total–so I found myself catching up on a lot of other work that doesn’t involve seeing clients. We’re scheduled heavier than yesterday and I am alone in the clinic yet again…and I have some other things I need to get done today around clients. I feel pretty good this morning, though, and like I’ll be able to get everything under control today. Tonight when I get home I have some chores to do once His Majesty has been fed and gotten enough attention, and then I think I’ll probably catch up on the news before watching this week’s The Beauty. We’re also a bit behind on The Night Manager, too. And of course the Australian Open is on, and the Olympics are also coming up…during parade season!

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

  1. I’m still bitter about Boots being canceled. ↩︎

I Sing for Things

Wednesday Pay the Bills Day again, and yet another cold morning here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was bitterly cold again, and our “break” from the cold is today, getting up into the fifties before we slide back down into the freezing water level and even….SINGLE DIGITS this weekend. It’s in the low thirties outside, and my workspace is really chilly. I forgot to set my alarm last night, but woke up when I was supposed to, which was nice–and I did it without Sparky’s help. Usually he’s trying to get me up before the alarm goes off, but not this morning. He was curled up somewhere warm downstairs, obviously, because he was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs this morning when I came down. Sigh. I have to run errands tonight after work–prescription, some groceries, gas–so am hoping it won’t be too terrible outside when my work shift is over. If not, oh, well. The one thing I don’t like about the cold weather is how my legs get so tired and achy so much faster–and leg exhaustion pretty much sets the tone for your entire body, doesn’t it?

But I did some chores last night–started some laundry, ran the dishwasher before putting the dishes away, cleaned the counters–and it was very nice coming down to a clean kitchen this morning. Note to self: the reason for doing chores during the week is to stay on top of it so I don’t have to spend time on the weekends getting it all caught up. I plan on doing another book purge this week, too, and to do some organizing of the bookcases again. It looks so much nicer and neater in the living room with all those books gone…and absolutely must remember to continue purging when I get to the point where I feel like it’s okay to buy books again.

I spent a lot of time last night watching news clips, interviews, and influencer podcasts about the fallout from the fascism we’ve all witnessed in Minneapolis. (It doesn’t escape my cynical notice that everyone went completely nuts about this–right and left–once they’d murdered a straight white man on camera…so, not to worry, racialized people, queers and women: we still care more about straight white men than any other demographic in this country.) The blame game, the quick shift by Kristi Noem to “just following orders,” and the possible fall of the vile Stephen Miller and his pick-me skank of a wife (IMAGINE seeing that naked and letting him inside of you…I may never stop internally screaming) was just too delicious of a train wreck to look away from. It almost feels like they are in the “find out” part of FAFO, but they are literally like the walking dead. Firing Bovino, Noem, Lewandowski (her adulterous LOVER), and Miller is just a start, for the record. Nothing less than prosecution will suffice.

That, and never being able to show their disgusting faces in public again without heckling.

When I’ve talked recently about wishing everyone could just let us enjoy Heated Rivalry and its success without being jackasses, I was referring to the Cyd Ziegler/Empty Netters podcast that’s been going on since late last week and early into this one. At first, the piece in Outsports was terribly disappointed, as it seemed to indicate that the guys on the podcast were actually homophobic trash who pretended to like the show for views and clicks, by exposing text messages the one supposedly sent to a friend. Obviously, he knew who he sent the texts to–as they are still in his phone–and he did a video defending himself, claiming, as always, they were taken out of context and the timeline of how things happened and played out were muddled to make him look worse. Some of his defensive language was problematic, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing…but then I got some more context on Cyd Ziegler, the Outsports journalist who exposed the story.

Cyd is a registered Republican gay man in Florida who supports Ron DeSantis, so anything he says is bound to be suspect, and his claim of years of gay advocacy and activism is rather suspect, given his politics. If you are a gay man, claiming advocacy and activism–how the fuck can you be a Republican and support Don’t Say Gay DeSantis? The backlash was so strong he backtracked, but…you can never believe or trust anything a Republican says, because they lie like it’s mother’s milk to them.

And yes, I will stand in solidarity with straight allies who might not have the best education on queer rights or issues over a self-loathing gay Republican every fucking day of the week. We may both be gay, but we have significantly different values and morals. Queer MAGA, to me, is even more despicable than straight MAGA…”fuck those fags, I’m not like those pansies” is an attitude and mentality I will never align with or support or stand with in solidarity. There’s an essay in this, methinks, for the newsletter.

I also started the new version of Chlorine, and it’s slow going so far; maybe eight hundred words or so? But the voice feels right, and I am looking forward to getting back into it again today.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning for my weekly “last day in the office” blog. STAY WARM!!!

When gorgeous, muscular men are involved, wrestling can create living sculpture as art. Meta will, naturally, hide this as “adult content”

Nothing Ever Changes

Tuesday of our latest arctic blast, but all is comfy and warm inside the Lost Apartment, which is lovely. The dry heat used to bother me–it still bugs Paul–but I’ve adjusted to it and it’s not the worst thing in the world. I mean, we could have to be out protesting in the streets in below zero temperatures (Minnesotans are making me very proud to be American, because fuck this fascist bullshit, now and forever.) I even saw an anthology call for short stories yesterday with the theme American Gestapo and you can bet your ass I am going to write something for that call. I have more than a few things to say about the collapse of American democracy, and a lot of scorn for those who cheer the decline and fall. I, for one, never expected the Reich-wing flip-flop on carrying a gun and gun ownership1, but these are indeed the strangest of times. And now it looks like the siege of Minneapolis might finally be ending; Bovino the Temu SS officer has been fired, and hopefully, that disgusting pile of filth known as Kristi Noem will be thrown under the bus along with him. Was this third government execution of an American citizen a turning point? Maybe, at long last. (So far, they’ve killed a black man–most people don’t know that part; outrage grew over the white woman; and exploded over the white man…as it ever was and is and will be.)

I mean, when you’ve lost the NRA and Greg motherfucking Abbott, it’s really is time for some serious self-reflection, isn’t it?

It’s cold again this morning, but it’s going to warm up a little before the next arctic blast (worse than the first) arrives later this week. We’re talking single digit weather in New Orleans, of all places. It’s going to be a weird weekend. I am going to try to get everything errand-wise finished by Friday, so I can stay indoors from Friday evening to Monday morning. Tis very cold here in my bay windows this morning, but it was pleasant at work yesterday (as opposed to our last cold spell, when the office was freezing). I slept so well last night–that pile of blankets was incredibly warm and comfortable and cozy last night, and I really hated to get out from under them this morning. When I got home from my errands last night (I had also ordered some groceries for delivery, too), I changed into my home-clothes (sweatpants and a hoodie and slippers), and sat down in my chair to read for a bit and watch the news before doing some chores, but Sparky had other ideas. He plopped into my lap and went to sleep…and then I was so comfortable, between him and the blanket, that I really never got back up again, other than for something to drink or snacks. It was entirely too comfortable, really.

Yesterday wasn’t bad at work, either. I wasn’t in the clinic after all, so I spent the day doing Admin stuff and getting caught up on everything–I’m never really very behind on anything anymore, but letting things slide always gets me in trouble. We’re slow this week, too, so I should be able to be all caught up on office work by Thursday when I leave. Huzzah!

I also finished my first promotional newsletter for Hurricane Season Hustle, which you can read right here! I need to do at least another one–the book officially drops on February 10–and I am getting really behind on the newsletters, aren’t I? The goal was once a week, and I’ve strayed very far from that initial ideal/goal over the last couple of years. I have so many started….and I really need to get more done, especially since (as with everything) I keep getting more ideas for them all the time! Heavy heaving sigh. It’s very hard to get things done, though, when I’m cold–but I need to stop giving in to the easy laziness and power through, don’t I?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and stay safe and warm–especially those in Minneapolis and Maine. I’ll be back tomorrow!

  1. Funny how they change their tune on everything, isn’t it? Suddenly the people who need a fucking AK-47 to go get coffee at Starbucks claim if you carry a gun in public the cops or a federal agent can shoot you? But, no, we’re the brainwashed ones… ↩︎

Imperial Hotel

Sunday morning! It’s seventy degrees outside this morning, with the cold front not quite here yet; it’s going to start raining soon (per the forecast) which is part of the front’s arrival, along with shockingly low temperatures later on today. It looks very gray outside, the ground is wet, and I am incredibly happy I don’t have to leave the apartment today other than to take the recycling out, which I should do right now before the rain gets here. Hang on, I’ll be right back.

Okay, I’m back. My legs are strangely tired and a bit sore this morning–the Achilles tendons in particular again–so I think when I finish this I might do some stretching, which I should start doing regularly again. I never really had to when I was younger–being naturally freakishly flexible meant I didn’t need to, but it was bad to never develop a regular stretching routine. I wonder, if now that my anxiety is under control, maybe the gym won’t be such an anxious experience for me. I’d conquered gym fear back in 1995, but after so long away from it I always had that anxiety whenever I would go back and try to get done as quickly as possible. I am going to return after Carnival and hopefully stick to it; I definitely need more stamina, and I’d like to shave off some extra weight (but without the assistance of the damned ulcerative colitis, of course). I know I’ll feel better the stronger and healthier I get, too.

Yesterday was definitely a day of odd energy. I got up a little later than I should have, and wasn’t as motivated as I had hoped. I would be. I think it was partly the oncoming storm on the horizon that was unsettling? I did run some errands (seven boxes of books to the library sale) and had some things delivered. I also braved the grocery store the day before a horrible winter storm descends upon us here in southeastern Louisiana. It was pretty hectic and crowded, and the check out lines were lengthy. But they were checking people out with a high degree of efficiency (for once), so it didn’t take nearly as long as I had feared it might. It was a very gray day, too–it was just gray and windy and chilly. I got home and unloaded the car and put everything away and relaxed for a bit. Sparky curled up in my lap and I spent some time catching up on the latest horrors from the current administration of fascists and liars and murderers. I also spent some time rereading one of my favorite books of history–Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror. We also watched the first three episodes of Ryan Murphy’s latest pretty production of a disjointed narrative, The Beauty.

In all honesty, I am not sure what to think. of The Beauty. It could easily have just been another season of American Horror Story rather than a stand-alone series. I also could do without child sexual abuse supporter and a friend of Diddy who regularly attended the “freak-offs” on my television screen. I’ll watch, but we’re not giving Ashton Kutcher a redemption arc, thank you very much. I’ve also not seen his ex-wife’s The Substance, but there seem to be an awful lot of similarities between the two. There’s a lot of things that could be said about our American obsession with youth and beauty, but I seriously doubt we’re going to get it from a Ryan Murphy show. It’s also my thought that the show will go off the rails and stop making sense, the way so many of the Ryan Murphy seasons do, before long. One day I may be able to break my hate-watching need for Ryan Murphy’s deeply flawed productions, but we aren’t there yet. After we caught up on it, we switched to the Australian Open and watched that until it was time for bed. I also made dinner last night, so the kitchen is a bit messy this morning. I do think, though, that once I finish and post this I may go read for a bit before getting cleaned up and getting the house under control yet again.

And yes, we’ve had another murder of an American citizen–a male nurse, at that–in Minneapolis by the tax-payer funded Noem thugs. She, and the rest of them, all lied about it, of course; which she should be civilly liable for; I do think the victims’ families should be able to file wrongful death suits against Noem, Homeland Security, and this administration. So glad y’all couldn’t bring yourself to vote for the highly qualified Black woman because you didn’t believe she worked at McDonalds and had a stranger laugh you didn’t like. Fuck you all, now and forever. There can be no forgiveness without atonement and genuine remorse. I’ll probably carry that grudge to the grave. Have fun in church today, Pharisees.

It’s funny, because one thing I’ve been researching for a future book is the 1970s and its pop culture, which is fun and interesting–although the clothes and hairstyles can be safely left to the past and memory. But one of the biggest things I can remember in the 1970s was the Bicentennial; many now aren’t old enough to remember that. I’ll probably write an essay for the newsletter about the Bicentennial at some point. Remembering what a huge fuss was made for the Bicentennial makes it kind of surprising that no one seems to give a shit that the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence is this July 4th. Kind of ironic that it was written as a result of years of authoritarian British colonial rule and justice…while on a major anniversary of the signing we have elected our own authoritarians and tyrant to abuse our freedoms and liberties. The way they can bald-faced lie despite the overwhelming video evidence that proves they lie about everything and anything.

The lengths they will go to in order to distract from the Epstein files is pretty telling, isn’t it? It’s worse for them for the epstein files to come out than shooting American citizens dead in the streets.

That’s a pretty big fucking tell, isn’t it?

Well, the rain has arrived and it’s very dark now, so I am going to repair to my easy chair and my coffee and read some more Ken Holt and Eli Cranor. Stay safe and warm wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. Thanks for stopping by!

Wild Heart

Saturday and the cold is coming! It’s going to be in the teens Monday and Tuesday! AIEEEE!!!

Okay, now that I have gotten the expected reaction to cold on its way, it’s not that big of a deal. Yes, it’s going to be unnaturally cold this weekend, starting with rain later on today and working its way down to the painfully cold temperatures we’ll experience tomorrow. I can handle the cold by wearing layers to work or anytime I have to go outside while this abysmally cold weather goes on.

And gloves. Must find my gloves. I am going to attempt to run some errands and make some groceries today–no big deal if it’s insanely crowded and I wind up not wanting to deal with it (one never can be sure how New Orleans will react; the shelves may be empty of things like bread, which I don’t need). If it’s anything like hurricane prep, it could be a nightmare out there today as everyone tries to get everything done today so they don’ have to be out in it tomorrow. There’s a chance of snow or ice, too.

Yesterday was a good day. I got my work duties out of the way, and spent the rest of the day doing laundry and pruning down the books, filling up an insane amount of boxes. You can finally tell that I pruned the books. Anything I’ve already read, gone–unless its nonfiction. If I’ve had it for over ten years–donate it. They were paid for and the authors (or their estates) got their royalty from buying my copy, so I don’t feel as guilty about not reading everything I’ve ever bought. I am not going to feel guilty for not reading everything I’ve bought–the author made money off me, and what more can I do for them? I certainly don’t expect every author I know to buy or read all of my books.

Going through the books was also a trip down memory lane–oh I was on a panel with him or oh I saw this author on a panel and was impressed or oh yes I read one of her books and loved it so I bought all of her books or he was so nice! whatever happened to him?-which was also kind of nice. I’ve met a lot of really talented people over the course of my writing career!

I was also a lot more ruthless this time, and can still be even more ruthless the next time I prune the books. As I was pruning, I marveled at how the urge, the nonsensical need to always be surrounded by books, isn’t as strong as it used to be–so it was due to the anxiety I no longer experience to a such a high degree. I used to think I always wanted to hoard books out of a fear of not having something new to read whenever I was ready to read something. But, as I pruned ruthlessly yesterday, I didn’t agonize over the decisions and was very cut-and-dried with them. I also realized that I had an almost parasocial relationship with books. When I was a kid, I felt disconnected from the world and like I didn’t belong in it and that everyone could tell I was different, and different meant freakish, weird, strange and always just a step away from a total ostracization and complete isolation from other people. Books, and my imagination, were tools for me to escape my existence into somewhere safer, where I wasn’t weird or strange but just normal. Books were always my lifeline, offering not just the escape but comfort, and filled that role my entire life. Shitty job and miserable existence? Oh, there’s a new Stephen King, Sue Grafton, Elizabeth Peters, or Robert Ludlum novel to pick up at the bookstore! (I rarely ever used the library because I preferred to own them; I needed them around me to feel safe and comforted in my amped up anxiety. My dream was always to live somewhere that I could have my own library…I don’t find that to be as important to me anymore, either.) I also used to reread a lot–usually when I didn’t have a lot of time to lose myself in a book, I’d just take down something I’d already read and spend my reading time revisiting something I’d already enjoyed.

I also started work on this version of Chlorine, trying out a new opening that makes a lot more sense to me than the one I was convinced for years was the best way to open the book. We’ll see how it goes, won’t we?

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close so I can get started on my day. Have a lovely Saturday, stay warm, and I’ll be back to see how you’re doing in the morning, ‘Til then!

Pretty young Hunter Doohan, an out gay actor whose work I’ve enjoyed

enchanted

And here we are on another work-at-home Friday, after an odd week. Monday was a holiday, and of course I took Wednesday off, so this has been an odd week. I kept thinking yesterday was Monday, for one thing, which was weird–I felt rested and motivated for most of the day, which was a good thing. I was also very efficient, getting everything done that needed to be done, and of course, I have work at home duties to get done. I slept well again and got up earlier than usual, so I feel good this morning, too. Might I actually get some things done this weekend? Remains to be seen. There’s a cold front coming in over the weekend, with temperatures dipping down into the freezing range on Sunday. We’re not supposed to get snow and ice, but….one never can be certain, can one? I did get some chores done last night, too, so I am already ahead on the weekend. All the dishes are clean, so all I need to work on is pruning the books some more and the floors. Huzzah! I should have time to get some writing done as well as some other cleaning and organizing, and reading, too. Well, we’ll see, at any rate; I reserve the right to be lazy this weekend.

I get all sorts of emails trying to sell me ebooks on sale for either $1.99 or $2.99, and usually I’ll get things that I’ve already read, or something I meant to read all along yet never obtained a copy. Yesterday, the ebook I impulsively bought was Thus Was Adonis Murdered by Sarah Caudwell.1 I have a mass market paperback copy I bought any number of years ago, and I cannot remember who recommended it to me, or why they did; but I now have it in physical and ethereal form, so maybe I’ll get around to reading it this year. Maybe I’ll get around to reading something, anything, this year.

I was delighted to see Sinners get so many Oscar nominations, setting a new record for most with 16. I personally loved the movie, thought it was incredibly well made, written, and acted, and am really happy the Academy seems to be getting past its issues with horror cinema (Frankenstein also got a lot of nominations, and I still want to see it). Maybe this weekend I can carve out some time for a rewatch of Sinners, as well as Frankenstein and my rewatch of The Mummy.2 I always have so much to do, and being overwhelmed by it and getting none of it done is a long-standing issue in my life. I think I am nervous about working on Chlorine, and that is effectively blocking me from getting other things done along the way, too. Obviously, the answer to that dilemma is idiot, so start working on it–it can always be fixed. I don’t know why I can’t get past the fear of writing stuff I may not be able to use, but here we are, you know?

I still haven’t watched the final season of Stranger Things, and honestly, can’t drum up much interest in my mind to even consider watching. I don’t remember much, if anything, of the previous season…which is probably part of the problem. We also lost interest in Welcome to Derry, too. I think watching Derry and not getting into it has something to do with my lack of interest in finishing Stranger Things. The show started out as an homage to Stephen King and the 1980s, which made it a lot of fun for me those first few seasons…but if anything, It was kind of the blueprint for Stranger Things, and as a fan of It, there was a lot of issues in my mind with continuing with Derry–and having started Derry, I think the similarities is the mind block for me.

I got my twenty-one year pin this week at work, which was yet another damn you’re old moment for me. I’ve worked there now for nearly a third of my life (my previous record for a job was five years) and a lot has changed since I went to work part-time at the CAN office of the NO/AIDS Task Force twenty-one years ago–not just for me and the world, but in HIV testing, treatment, and care. Twenty-one years ago we hadn’t reached the ability to achieve undetectable viral loads (making you non-infectious) and PrEP (to prohibit new infections).

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again tomorrow morning. Till then, arrivederci!

Screenshot
  1. And yes, it bothers me that I cannot remember why it was recommended to me. I guess it doesn’t matter. ↩︎
  2. I love the Brendan Fraser/Rachel Weisz movies so much–but I can’t remember which movie is which! It will be part of my newsletter’s Egypt series. ↩︎

Nightbird

And it’s back to the office on this odd week of day off, day on alternating since Monday. It’s going to be warm all day–it’s sixty outside right now–before the cold weather returns with a vengeance this weekend. I slept well last night, and as usual, didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Yesterday was different; going to a memorial service in the middle of the day was certainly something new and unusual and out of the ordinary. I felt emotionally drained after we got back home–it was lovely seeing people I’ve not seen in years, of course–but it also required me to interact socially, which wore me down and out. I watched the second episode of the Salt Lake City reunion, and we got an episode of The Night Manager out of the way, too, before calling it an evening and going to bed early, which is on the agenda for this evening, too. I can come straight home after work–we got the mail yesterday, so I shouldn’t have to leave the apartment all weekend–and hopefully get some chores out of the way, if I’m not terribly tired when I get home. I also have a lot of things to do at work today…so yeah, I might be tired tonight. And so what if I am?

It’s kind of nice not having anxiety anymore.

But I am not achy or tired physically this morning, so I think I am now past the bodily shake-up and shock from the car accident Monday afternoon. That seems like a million years ago now, with the way that time passes so quickly these days. It’s February and Carnival before we know it, and then the Festivals loom on the horizon. This is the best I’ve felt all week in the morning, so I suspect there was some lingering exhaustion from something or another–which is nice; I always worry I’m about to have another UC attack because I sure as hell don’t want to go through another bout of that–although I do wonder how it would be treated now that I am on the medication. Who knows? I am not a doctor nor do I play one on television.

It was a year ago that New Orleans was buried in snow and the entire city shut down for two days. It was delightful, and made me rethink my long-time hatred of snow. It helped that I didn’t have to go outside as work closed for the duration; instead, me and Sparky were nice and toasty warm inside the Lost Apartment, watching television and loving how the city was reacting to this weather weirdness. I kind of wish we’d get snow again, but even with this enormous and dangerous winter storm coming, it’s still a very long shot.

I feel very alert and rested, now that the coffee has started kicking into gear and I’ve had some coffee cake. I got a Hubig’s cream cheese King cake the other day when I made groceries, and it is quite delicious–though there’s not nearly as much cream cheese as they put in the Rouse’s brand ones, which is what I usually get. Yes, I know there are some amazing king cakes to be had in New Orleans, but the store brand has always worked for us and we’ve never been king cake snobs. I do like the more bougie ones, but I only have those when someone brings one in to work, or we go to a party somewhere during the season. My supervisor will occasionally bring some really good ones from Cannata’s Bakery out in Houma, where she lives; they are quite delicious.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday (it feels like Monday, and I feel like I usually do on Mondays), Constant Reader, and I will be back home tomorrow for work-at-home Friday.

Gate and Garden

Wednesday morning that doesn’t feel like a Wednesday, following close behind a Tuesday that didn’t feel like a Tuesday. Sigh. I have today off to attend a memorial service for a close friend, and so tomorrow is also going to feel a bit off, too–another day in the office before work-at-home Friday and the weekend. Yesterday was weird, you know? I was a bit stiff and sore from Monday’s fender-bender, and my energy just felt off all day. It was very weird, honestly, and probably a hangover from the adrenaline spike on Monday afternoon. That accident could have been so much worse than it was, too. Thank goodness for staying calm in the moment, right? It was a bit cold yesterday morning, too, but it felt okay when I left for the office. I had an errand to run on the way home, and I was back in my chair with a purring kitty before it got terribly dark, which was a very nice outcome. I was very tired when I got home, too, so didn’t really do much of anything last night…and I slept for almost twelve hours! I’m not sure what that was about, but I feel rested and good this morning, the coffee is going down easily, and Sparky is perched on my desk watching the windows.

There was an arson attack in the Bywater the other night–some friends’ home burned, along with eight parked cars and I think maybe one more house? Arson is terrifying in a city with a long history of burning–I don’t even know how many great New Orleans fires there have been, but I do know big swathes of the Quarter burned down several times in the eighteenth century. I also know that under the right conditions the entire city could easily go up in flames again. When we lived on Camp Street in the mid-to-late nineties, there was an arsonist setting fires in the lower Garden District; theoretically, he burned down a house on Coliseum Street as well as the old Coliseum Theater–which I am still not convinced wasn’t an insurance fire–how convenient for the property owner not to have to deal with a historic building and the insane process to tear it down. There’s a big building full of condos there now…and I know at one point I had wanted to write a Chanse book about an arsonist here, but somehow never got around to it…and of course, this recent arson has me thinking about a New Orleans arsonist again; I also wrote two Scotty books about fires–Bourbon Street Blues has a house fire, and Jackson Square Jazz came out of the Cabildo fire…and of course, I also wrote about the fire at the Upstairs Lounge in a Chanse, too. So I have written about fires in New Orleans…funny how you forget things you actually wrote yourself, isn’t it?

I think when I get home from the service (and the errands we are going to run afterwards) I am going to get some chores done around here so I don’t have to do them this weekend. I won’t be as tired as I usually am on Thursday, either, so I should be able to get things done tomorrow night after work, too. I think I am in the clinic alone again, but that’s fine. It’ll be a busy day for me, too–lots of things will need to get caught up for the week, now that I am missing a full day–but it’ll be fine. I can also get some reading done, too–it really is wild how hard it is for me to sit down with a book these days, you know? I was remembering yesterday about how much I used to read–and when I was growing up books were also a lot longer. I spent the summer before my junior year reading Michener–I read Hawaii, Centennial, Tales of the South Pacific, and Chesapeake that summer; I really wish he would have done Louisiana–and the summer before my senior year reading Herman Wouk (Marjorie Morningstar, Youngblood Hawke, The Winds of War, and War and Remembrance) while also reading thick volumes by Taylor Caldwell, Irving Wallace, and many others.

And now it takes me two weeks to reread The Postman Always Rings Twice. How things change.

And on that note I am going to head into the spice mines as the world and country burn to the ground around me. Have a lovely midweek Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning before work! See you then!