Category: New Orleans

My Wish Came True

The big news of yesterday is that I actually revised, copy-edited, and finished a short story last night. Woo-hoo! The deadline for the anthology is not until this weekend, but I think I’m going to reread it one more time and then go ahead and pull the trigger. The last story I sent out was rejected, so a sale would be nice this time around. But if not, I’ll just put my nose to the grindstone and try, try, try again. I can always put this into the collection–and writing the introduction to the collection is on my to-do list for this week. I think June is going to be here sooner than I was thinking–the holiday really has messed up my already fucked-up sense of time–which isn’t ideal, but it’s fine. I want to get this one manuscript finished in June–and maybe the collection, too–and then I can move on to my next manuscript.

See? I am starting to feel ambitious again, and that’s been a long-time coming.

I slept very well last night, too, which was a very good feeling and of course tomorrow I don’t need to set the alarm as it is Work-at-Home Friday for one Gregalicious. We started watching a new Netflix show called Bodkin, which is really quite enjoyable–the first episode wasn’t terribly promising, but it really takes off in the second episode and continues to build. It also has a lot more depth than it seemed to at first, and I am looking forward to getting deeper into it tonight. I also am going to try to do some more reading this evening, after doing some more writing. My next goal is to revise the prologue to The Summer of Lost Boys–probably tonight–and then tomorrow after work-at-home duties I’ll work on finishing the revision of “When I Die,” and this weekend I can get to seriously working on my next book. I came up with a very ambitious writing plan for the rest of the summer; so we’ll see how that works out. But–Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, it’s also completely do-able. There will be times, I know, when I will need to rest and not risk burn out again, and that could affect the schedule. The key is to be flexible, and not get down on myself, for therein lies the path to crippling anxiety and creative paralysis.

But damn, it feels good to feel excited about writing again rather than seeing it as an odious chore…especially when life sometimes feels like everything is an odious chore. I still have to try to fix the garbage disposal, which is irritating not to have, and I still need to really do something about the floors. I think if and when I get my tax refund, I am going to use it to buy a new vacuum cleaner, one that is heavy duty and not only will work, but continue to work with little to no maintenance. I don’t know what is wrong with my current one, but I am going to go through the manual and see if I can’t figure out how to get it to work properly; if that fails, I’ll be getting a new one. Big plans for my weekend, right? The excitement really never lets up around here, let me tell you.

The Louisiana lege, in an effort to create a state more repressive than Puritan Massachusetts, passed two bills yesterday targeted at queer people: a bathroom bill, and a “don’t say gay” bill, which are now heading to our Christo-fascist governor’s desk to be signed…and thanks to the illegitimate Supreme Court, these laws will likely be upheld. Thanks again, protest voters in 2016. So glad Hillary wasn’t “pure” enough for you–and everything she warned about that summer has fucking come true. I will never forgive protest voters in 2016, and no one else should, either. There is no telling what other horrors Republican state legislatures and governors are going to do, now that they know they have a joke court upholding all of their un-American and un-constitutional laws. Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas are making a mockery of the Constitution and legal ethics, and John Roberts either doesn’t care or applauding them behind the scenes–so he is also unfit for office. That’s three who need to go right there–and Kavanaugh, Gorsuch and Barrett shouldn’t even be there in the first place. So, hey, Susan Sarandon–miss me with your fucking ally-ship to my community, you narcissistic bitch. I will never watch anything with her in it–and that means never seeing some classic movies that mattered to me again, and frankly, I can live with it. Glad you don’t vote with your vagina.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines for my last day in the office this week. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader–unless you’re a Louisiana Republican, in which case you can rightly and justly fuck all the way off.

Seven Bridges Road

And now we come to the last (so far) Chanse novel, lucky number seven.

Took me awhile to get here, didn’t it? But it also took me awhile to get around to writing the seventh Chanse book. I worried a lot about this series as it developed–mainly because my original plan had derailed, and I never really sat down and mapped out the rest of the series with the new calibrations, so I was flying by the seat of my pants for the last two books, and in retrospect that sense that the series was going stale was a direct result of that fly by the seat of my pants style, which never worked for Chanse. So, essentially I’d forgotten how to write the series, and so…when I was running into problems with the seventh, it was easy enough to believe I was out of story for him and the series itself was becoming repetitive and stale. I’ve come up with more story for him since then–I’ve written a Chanse short story and started a novella, and had an idea for another entire book, so maybe I will revisit Chanse again in the next few years?

I had always thought of the series as lasting for seven novels, and when I sat down to come up with ideas for the seventh book, I started thinking about ending the series. The Chanse series, as you may have noticed once you’ve read these entries, almost ended every single time I published one–and by this time I felt like I was running out of ideas for him, and felt like I was writing by the numbers; following the same story beats and patterns I had already established in earlier books rather than pushing myself. I also worried that if I kept writing something I felt was getting stale, the book quality would also start to slip. I never wanted to be one of those authors who just keep writing the same old series long past its expiration date. Yes, they always sold well and yes, the income was nice…but…-and I began thinking that I may need to end the series before the readers began to notice the stories were starting to fall into a recognizable pattern; certainly the stories were beginning to have the same beats repeated, over and over. I wasn’t happy to not write another Chanse book, after all; Chanse really launched my publishing career and the series was very good to me over the years–but I felt it was the right decision for the time.

The electronic gate began rolling to the left with a loud clamor.

I closed the driver’s side window of my “billet silver” Jeep Cherokee, shivering. I turned the heater back up to high. I was cold even though I was wearing my black trench coat and a black knit Saints cap. It was in the low thirties. The sky was gray and covered with clouds, the air the kind of chilly damp that goes right to your joints. Last night there had been a freeze warning for all of southeastern Louisiana, so I’d had to turn all my faucets on to a trickle all night to keep the exposed pipes under my house from freezing. The grass on either side of the paved driveway had turned brown, and in the rearview mirror I could see the grass on the levee on the other side of the road behind me had as well.

This cold snap had every New Orleans weathercaster worked up into the kind of energetic, wide-eyed frenzy they usually reserved for hurricane season. The possibility of snow either tonight or sometime tomorrow had them practically drooling. The one currently breathlessly going on and on about how we all needed to bring inside all pants and pets inside before sunset was getting on my nerves, so I turned the radio off. It had snowed maybe three times in all my years of living in New Orleans. Those rare, occasional snowstorms always brought the city to its knees. Businesses closed, people holed up in their homes afraid to drive anywhere, and nothing got done.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as the gate lumbered open slowly. My lower back was starting to ache, which wasn’t a good sign. I pressed the button on the steering wheel thatcontrolled the heater in the driver’s seat. Heat always seemed to help with the pain, but taking a pain pill wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted my brain to be functional when meeting a pair of prospective new clients, anyway.

Finakky, the gate was open wide enough for me to drive through, and I pushed the gas pedal down.

With the big metal gate open, I could see the house. In spite of myself I gasped. I’d seen Belle Riviere depicted many times on postcards, but the reality took my breath away.

The Arts District has always been in my neighborhood (sort of); it’s just on the other side of Highway 90 on Camp, with the nexus being I guess Camp and Julia Street. The Ogden Museum of Southern Art is across the street from the Community Arts Center, the Arthur Roger Gallery is there, and there are any number of smaller galleries scattered throughout the area, which is why White Linen Night is held there. I had thought about setting the case during White Linen, but…it’s so miserably hot. The last time I went, in the 1990’s, I literally thought I was going to have heat stroke–and I’ve never gone again. Writing about it would mean going again, and there was just no way I was going to do that.

The plot was actually brought to me by way of a friend who knew one of the people involved in the real life case; which I found fascinating. My friend’s friend was one of those effortlessly sexy and beautiful men; the kind everyone’s eyes turn to when he walks into the room, and being one of those, he landed a very wealthy partner more than double his age. (Yes, I know, age-gap relationships are real, but doesn’t everyone assume the younger, pretty one in these types of relationships are in it for the money?) Anyway, the story was they had been robbed, and the burglars had stolen some of their art. They reported it to the police, but the police didn’t believe their story, and thought they were committing insurance fraud!

This was very bizarre to me, but it centered on art and galleries, which is why I wanted to do with this book, and so I thought, I can make this work. I used the same basic premise–age-gap gay relationship; older guy is wealthy, younger has sordid past; art stolen and the cops don’t believe their story so they hire Chanse. I also wanted to get into how Chanse–a former college football player and a long time gym regular–was aging, and the aches and pains. He had a back injury from a car accident, and it was still bothering him in this book. He also was still dating the guy he met in a previous case–Rachel Sheehan’s younger brother–but I wasn’t sure where that was going so edited a lot of it out.

And when I finished writing it, I still thought that was a little too paint-by-the-numbers and not enough of a challenge to write–so maybe it’s time to give him a break, and that’s what I did. I do think the novella I want to write is more of a novel, really; and I like the idea and I also have another. So who knows? Chanse may be coming back at some point.

And I am not dissing the book–I’m proud of it, and think it’s one of the better Chanse books, for that matter.

Kissin’ Time

Ah, the Tuesday after Memorial Day and back to the office with me. Such an exciting life I lead, don’t I? I didn’t sleep all that great last night, to be honest–the kind of half-sleep/sort of awake kind of nights, which I didn’t quite understand until I came downstairs to find my sleeping pill (Trazodone, if you’re keeping track) sitting next to my keyboard, where I left it last night. Mystery solved!

But as I wake up, I’m feeling better–more alive and awake than usual, but I imagine I’ll be running out of steam later this afternoon. LSU is in the Chapel Hill regional for the NCAA baseball tournament, playing Wofford. GEAUX TIGERS! I did do some other things yesterday, including finishing the dishes and laundry, and doing the floors. I think I need a new vacuum cleaner (I saw a meme the other day that said “now that I’m an adult I understand why so many prizes on the The Price is Right were appliances”, and yes, very accurate). I didn’t work on fixing the garbage disposal or get out the vacuum handbook for maintenance help this weekend, but it’s something that can go on the list for this coming weekend. I won’t have as many errands to do next weekend, if I plan properly; although I will need to go to the library to donate books.

I also managed to make it to the gym yesterday to start the arm-rehabilitation process again. I went back to the light-weight-one-set thing, worried about overdoing or re-injuring (my biggest fear, seriously) my arm…which seemed easy-peasy, but we’ll have to see if stiffness or soreness sets in any time today. But the stretching and exercise felt great, and I was on an endorphin high for the rest of the afternoon, which was pretty fucking amazing. We’ll see how long I can keep this up for…I am looking forward to re-acclimating and getting back into a regular workout routine by mid-summer. Huzzah!

I read Michael Thomas Ford’s story in the queer horror anthology We Mostly Come Out at Night, edited by Rob Costello. Ford’s story is called “Be Not Afraid”, which is what I recognized immediately as what angels say in the Bible when they appear before humans to bring them messages from God, and I love some Biblical based horror. But even better–it was a Mothman rural West Virginia story, set at Christmas, and what a delightful story it turned out to be. Ford is a master at voice, and writing sentences that make you keep reading on to see what happens next. His characters are likable and relatable and absolutely real, and it’s always delightful to read one of his stories–he always seems to write about people who are lost and become found, but not in a Christian way, if that makes sense; he writes lovely hopeful queer stories. In a just world he’d be more successful than most other authors…he’s one of those I think will be studied as a queer literary giant by future generations. He also always can do poverty in a way that isn’t moralistic or judgmental; you understand the characters and what they are experiencing, but not in an exploitative way. Highly recommended, and I am looking forward to reading the other stories in the book, too.

I wrote for a little while yesterday, too. I worked on something I’ve been thinking about over the weeks–The Summer of Lost Boys, which I think is going to be my next book, once I finish the current in-progress one–and I also did some brainstorming on the next Scotty book, which I am hoping to finish writing by Labor Day. It felt good to be writing again, even if it was so very little, and I think my creativity is coming back in a major way after being dormant for so long. It feels good when I write. The writing I did yesterday didn’t feel like it was garbage or anything, either. Here’s hoping that feeling continues, shall we?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and no doubt I’ll be back later–I am definitely making progress on catching up on blog entries, which is terrific–and so I bid you adieu for now.

That’s Why (I love You So)

Memorial Monday!

Yesterday was quite pleasant, actually. I ran my errand quickly and worked on the apartment some more before watching the SEC Baseball tournament final and watching Dune Part 2 (more on that later) and this week’s Interview With the Vampire. I fell into bed shortly thereafter, and slept like the dead. As predicted, it’s Memorial Day and the final day of a long weekend, and I find myself wondering why I didn’t get more done. I know I still have stamina issues, but the. fact that my default is again berating myself rather than understanding why and letting myself off the hook tells me that mentally I am getting closer to myself after a long break–and that’s a good thing. I do have some things to do around here yet this morning that shouldn’t be too hard to deal with, and I want to get some writing done. I am going to the gym to start my rehab up again, and that will undoubtedly exhaust me, as will walking to the gym and back in the heat…and perhaps I should start thinking about driving, even if that means trying to find a place to park, which is never an easy thing to do and can very frustrating. I know, I know, the walking should be part of the workout, but walking that far in our excessive heat and humidity is debilitating…and maybe driving is just the thing to get me going regularly again.

One never knows, does one?

I also need to figure out why my vacuum cleaner isn’t working. I’d really prefer not to buy another one, as it seems like we just bought this one. Then again, COVID memory fog makes everything from the past seem like it was a very long time ago. But I do know it’s been at least two years since it last worked properly. Today I’ll sweep the rugs and shake them out, which is what I’ve been doing. Not great, but it does work and that’s really the most important thing. Maybe with my tax refund I can buy a new one.

LSU didn’t play great in the title game, falling to Tennessee 4-3, but they made it interesting in the bottom of the ninth, scoring two runs and stranding the tying run on second base. I’d say that’s a pretty good outcome, considering Tennessee is the top ranked team in the country (as they were last year) and LSU isn’t even ranked this season, and was the 11 seed in the tournament. They knocked out three top ten teams on their way to the finals, and remember–they won it all last year despite not winning the SEC, regular season or tournament. They’re pretty hot now, and are playing extremely well, so the postseason looks even more exciting than it did last week, to be honest. What great times to be an LSU fan, seriously–even if they don’t repeat, the baseball team is always fun to watch.

So, this morning I plan to get the kitchen rugs taken care of, then maybe take care of the living room floor as well, while trying to do some writing and reading. I need to make some to-do lists, update the bills log, and get ready for the work week which starts tomorrow, alas. I also don’t have an Admin Day to ease into the week, since I’ll having be to see clients tomorrow.

But I am feeling rested and relaxed, which is probably the most important thing for any weekend, really. We’ll probably finish watching Euphoria tonight, and I’m not really sure what to do about dinner. I have some fresh ground beef in the fridge, and I was thinking about sautéing it with mushrooms, onion and bell peppers, but I don’t know now if that’s a good use of the meat or not, but I don’t want to make meatballs and I already cooked out yesterday. I guess I can think about it later. It’s too early to make a decision about dinner anyway.

And on that incredibly dull note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be around the rest of the day.

Take a Message to Mary

Sunday!

I slept well again last night, which was lovely. I did get some things done yesterday, which was great–but making groceries yesterday wore me out. But I did get the dry cleaning dropped off, and made some terrific progress on the apartment. And of course, the LSU-South Carolina semi-final of the SEC baseball tournament…in which LSU fell behind 8-0 in the early innings, only to come back and win 12-11 in the tenth inning and earn a spot in the championship to play Tennessee. The game is on at one, and I’ll be there in my easy chair promptly at two to watch the game. Yesterday’s game was wild–one of the wilder LSU games I’ve seen–but served as yet another reminder of how exciting (and hard on the heart) being an LSU fan can be. I have to run an errand this morning, but I also want to do some writing before the game as well as some more cleaning.

Hilariously, yesterday as I left to run my errands I thought oh it’s pleasant outside today before getting into the car and seeing that “pleasant” in this instance meant 88 degrees! Utter madness, and another example of how we adjust to the heat here. I had some more thoughts about the writing yesterday, so even as I didn’t get any writing done yesterday, a lot was incubating in my head and goddamn it that counts! We also watched this week’s servings of Hacks, and the season finale of Abbott Elementary, and two episodes of Euphoria, and man those kids are seriously fucked up. I want to watch Dune today–Zendaya and Timothée Chalamet, woo hoo!–which is three hours long (and a challenge to not seem that long, for sure) after the baseball game, but we’ll see. I think Paul is planning on not doing much of anything today, so he’ll be napping occasionally on the couch all day once the game starts, and we’ll see how that all goes. I also have some cooking to do today–well, food prep anyway; I want to make watermelon soup and chicken salad for Paul to snack on–and later on today I think I’ll probably cook out, maybe even during the baseball game as “tailgate adjacent”–or I could order pizza and cook out tomorrow, as is traditional for Memorial Day. That’s a definite thought, and I do need to order some things from Office Depot; maybe I could do that and order the pizza, take the car and get both at the same time? That could be a bit fun, and a definite possibility. But pizza for a baseball game rather than burgers and hot dogs on the grill? Not entirely sure there…but tomorrow IS Memorial Day, and maybe U Pizza won’t be open tomorrow? Or–I could order it from Midway on Freret and go pick it up in the car? I just don’t know; decisions, decisions.

But I also think today is going to be my first day on the way back to physical strength and stamina and so forth. I am going to use my back massage roller thing today, and the massage gun I got for Christmas with the money Dad gave me; I may even stretch out and shave my head and everything before I get cleaned up this morning. It doesn’t, in fact, hurt anything to stretch every day, or do some crunches to get the blood pumping in the morning. I am going to the gym tomorrow with Paul–another reason for getting the pizza today–for the first time in weeks, and this will be the start of a new workout regimen for me, that I hope I can stick to despite the misery of a New Orleans summer–and this is really the perfect time to start writing another Scotty book that takes place over the summer, too; I can absolutely relate to the misery the boys will be experiencing in the book from the heat. I am also a bit excited, to tell you the truth, about writing another Scotty; I do love the characters a lot. I also think today is the day to sit down and make a writing plan for the rest of the year, so I can stay on track.

Excellent plan, Gregalicious. May this ambition I am feeling carry me through the rest of the day and the rest of the weekend. I also have some emails to answer, and some correspondence to take care of, which is peculiar to be sure; who writes letters anymore? But I am disputing charges and things with my insurance and some other nightmarish nonsense, and I have to write those things out. (Blue Cross Blue Shield of Louisiana is garbage, and with Janky Jeff Landry running Louisiana, they’ll probably get a lot worse now that all branches of state government are controlled by Christofascists, trying to take the state back to 1860.) On the other hand, being a writer comes in handy for these letters, as does have a mostly logical brain that isn’t swayed by emotion–when I can control it, and usually, in writing things like this I can be very coldly analytical and brutal at the same time. (I have yet to ever write a complaint letter that did not bear fruit; they usually surrender than trying to use corporate-speak to tell me I am wrong, because they can’t answer all of my questions.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Memorial Day Eve, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

Sweeter Than You

Saturday morning and the first of my delicious and delightful three day weekend and this morning I slept in a bit. I had to stay up a little later than usual to finish laundering the bed linens, and was falling asleep in my chair until the final blanket was finished. But it was later than I usually go to bed, so I shouldn’t be surprised that I slept later this morning. I have a couple of errands to run today–making some more groceries, for one–but other than that, today should be a fairly restful day spent doing some cleaning and reading and writing. I’m not really sure what all I did last night after the day-job duties were complete, other than going to Costco, which is always exhausting. Today I do need to reorganize the kitchen and the refrigerator some–Costco and making groceries today render things disorganized and originally shoved into cabinets and the fridge just to get them off the counters, but it’s not a permanent solution and impractical.

I felt really good again yesterday, just as I do this morning. I have a Sam’s order being delivered this morning too–and I need to walk some things over to the dry cleaner. I want to spend some time reading Suicide Notes this morning (I also got Erik Larson’s The Demon of Unrest at Costco; it’s about the early days of the Civil War, which might make for an interesting read in these days of domestic division). I want to get some writing done this weekend–part of the reason I don’t remember much of what I did last night (besides watching two episodes of Euphoria), primarily because I was writing in my head as I sat in the easy chair with Sparky sleeping in my lap. I revised in my head a first chapter of a new project I want to work on, and I also figured out how to get going on my long-stalled y/a that I want to get finished this year. I was even thinking about “Never Kiss a Stranger” and more things I can put in it to anchor it even firmly in 1995; what gay dance clubs were like in the period–amusingly how someone always had a whistle and there was always some older queen with a tambourine out there shirtless, and the scent of poppers hanging in the heavy damp air and fog. I do think that could be an amazing story if I ever can give it my full attention.

Sounds like I am excited about writing again, doesn’t it? And maybe that’s why I am feeling better these days?

I also had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and was delighted to weigh only 203! I haven’t been that low in at least a decade, and you know, I thought I had lost weight from the way my clothes have been fitting and how I’ve been actually looking. Yes, I could probably stand to lose another ten pounds of body fat, and I need to get back into the gym to continue rehabbing my shoulder and then moving on to the rest of my body along the way; like yes, I should focus on shoulder exercises with very low weights, but I can also start working my abdominals and legs, too. It would be great to be in better shape by the end of the summer. I also need to make an eye appointment so I can order some prescription sunglasses.

And of course when I first got up, I was already thinking of all the errands I’d planned to do today that I was going to blow off or put off until tomorrow, but now that the coffee is kicking in I feel like I can, indeed, get all of that done. I want to wash the car and I also have to take some things to the dry cleaners’, and I had wanted to take books by the library but that’s the one I think I will pass on until next Saturday, when I don’t have as much to do and will probably want to stay inside the house for that whole weekend other than going to the gym. It’s also starting to feel like summer again–it was 92 yesterday when I went to my doctor’s appointment–so walking to the gym is going to be unpleasant and sweaty, but that’s something easy to deal with; it’s rain that’s the problem for walking to the gym. I think I may take a walk today, just to get some exercise, but I definitely need to start stretching every morning. (See how much better I am feeling? This morning I feel like I can do anything.)

I started reorganizing the kitchen, too, and my desk space is less cluttered and definitely looking better, but I’m still not entirely sure of how to change the design and layout. I know the bookcase alongside the couch I want to move away from the front door if I can find another place to put it–not sure if there is anywhere–but that is an essential step to making the living room more functional and less cluttered. I also have blog entries to finish that I’d like to get out of my drafts folder this weekend.

And on that note, I am going to make some breakfast and head into the spice mines while I wait for Sam’s to arrive. I’ll probably be back later, one never knows. Have a great Saturday Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again soon.

It Was I

Thursday and my last day in the office for this week, and then it’s a three day weekend after I finish work tomorrow. I am looking forward to the rest, frankly, and a chance to get caught up on things. I started feeling better about my writing yesterday–I always forget how not writing always impacts me psychologically, even if the writing is poor. When I don’t write, I start doubting myself about everything and that makes me procrastinate more which makes me doubt myself more, and you see how the mental spiral goes. But I paid all the bills yesterday and made groceries on the way home from work. I have to get the mail today, and have to swing by another store to make some more groceries that they didn’t have at the place I went last night (unusual, it’s usually a better store than where I regularly go). We are also going to Costco at some point this weekend, too, and I definitely need to get that list made. Tonight when I get home I need to put the dishes away and fold the laundry. So much excitement, right? I need to make a to-do list for the weekend, so I don’t forget all the things I need to get done this weekend. What would be lovely would be to get stuff done over the weekend and take Memorial Day itself as a “do-little-to-nothing” type day. I think we’re going to watch Dune Part 2 this weekend, and probably finish Euphoria. We started the second season last night and it definitely opened with a bang. I’m really enjoying this show a lot, and Zendaya kills it as Rue.

And this weekend I am going to kick it into gear and start trying to finish this y/a novel. I need to figure some things out with it first, but I definitely want to get back to writing it and making it into a novel from a novella. I think that sense of accomplishment will carry me through the rest of the year with writing, to be honest. I have two short stories I want to write for submission calls, one story I need to edit and revise to get it into one that’s due at the end of the month, and I need to finish revising these other two stories that are in progress and get the collection finished once and for all.

It’s kind of nice to feel excited about writing again, even if I haven’t actually done any in a while. I just hope this enthusiasm carries me through into the weekend…but then again, one never knows, does one? It is so weird that I feel so much more energetic and rested the further in the week we go, isn’t it? I don’t know why this has been the case, but it has been ever since I changed my medications. I hope to make it through the day and through my errands with the ability to still get some things done after I get home…but I also don’t have to get up early tomorrow, either. Yay!

And at least I am feeling optimistic again, you know? I don’t feel like my career is over or that the well has run dry; I just had to take some time away and now everything is a little rusty, and I need to retrain myself to focus again and lose myself in the writing.

An old man can hope, can’t he?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday–and I may be back later; one never really knows with me.

Manhattan Spiritual

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills blog, and woo=hoo! Isn’t it nice and exciting to be halfway through the work week? I feel rested and relaxed this morning as I sit here swilling coffee and reminding Sparky he doesn’t need more treats. (He really loves treats.) The sky is blue and the sun is already up, which is great. I really hate getting up in the dark, you know? Getting up when it’s already daylight–even if it’s not quite as light as it is later on–is so much better; I don’t feel like the night is being interrupted.

I ran some errands last night after work, mostly picking up the mail (got my copy of the new Ann Hood, yay!) and some other stuff. Tonight I have to make groceries on my way home, and I need to order some more things on-line, too. I also reflected some on the way I’ve been feeling about writing lately, and realized I’m just going through yet another prolonged malaise, which always makes me doubt myself and wonder if I should even bother continuing with it, while also contemplating taking some time off from it…and then remembering I have taken some time off from writing. Maybe I am just in a better mood this morning, or maybe I am finally rested enough to move forward from hereon out? Who knows? Writing hasn’t been easy for quite a while now, but I need to stop dogging myself about first drafts not being perfect because they never are. I think I am starting to get focused on what I want to write next…but I do need to get these short stories out of the way first and foremost, and I do need to get some of these other projects finished and out of the way. I also need to remember that music is the best thing for writing; I need background noise and music has always worked to put me into the zone. So…maybe put on my headphones and play some music the next time I am trying to write something?

I started listening to the new Taylor Swift album, The Tortured Poets Department, in the car yesterday and I am enjoying it. She really is quite the recording artist, and she also collaborates a lot with other amazing artists, too.

It’s so weird how I feel better rested and relaxed the deeper I get into the week, isn’t it? It used to be the other way around; I always started the week off great and then descended into exhaustion until by the time I got home on Thursdays I was so bleary-eyed that all I could do was collapse into the couch. But…there are certainly worse things, an I shouldn’t question it other than leaning into it and enjoying the ride. Maybe after I make groceries tonight I’ll be able to get some writing done. Maybe even some reading. I did do chores last night; I’ll need to empty the dishwasher tonight and finish the laundry, but it’s nice to try to spend some time at least catching up on mess or clutter or life debris; whatever you want to call that. I also spent some time yesterday catching up on the Noah Presgrove murder; again, the darkness in rural small towns is really something. I found a Reddit where someone had put together a time-line of the weekend, which helped clear some things up for me, but the conflicting stories is perhaps the most interesting thing to me. I don’t know if he was actually murdered or not, but I don’t see how it could have been anything else given his injuries. I also am curious about why the autopsy report took so long? Although I would imagine that area of Oklahoma would probably have to send the remains to a bigger city for a forensic autopsy? And he was buried not long after he died…so why did the autopsy take so long? (I don’t know how long it takes for an actual autopsy to be done, but nine months seems a bit extreme, especially in the case of a mysterious death.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I may be back later; one never knows. Have a great Wednesday!

Goodbye Jimmy Goodbye

Here it is Tuesday, and I am feeling okay this morning–awake and rested, if a little creaky (which is every morning these days)–and my coffee is really tasty this morning, which is lovely. I slept pretty well, other than the occasional sniffing/clawing/biting from Sparky, and I could have easily stayed in bed for another hour or so, but that’s okay. Functionality is perfectly fine.

We watched more Euphoria last night, and I have to say, we are really enjoying it. Nate is a monster, played beautifully (see what I did there?) by Jacob Elordi; but as wild and over-the-top as the show is, it’s also marvelously queer–and also shows the difference between a miserable existence that is completely a lie (Nate’s dad) to Rue’s unabashed, unquestioned bisexuality, and of course there’s a marvelous trans character as well, who is just as developed and three-dimensional and has an interior life as much as the others, which is terrific. Represent, HBO! I’m also a bit surprised that this show hasn’t been targeted by the right–drugs and sex and drinking and teenagers, oh my! But they never came after Gossip Girl either; selective outrage is never consistent, after all.

I did write some last night; it was all garbage, but at least it was something, right? Even as I was typing the words as they came to me, I knew it wasn’t any good. I had the voice completely wrong, and the words, which I’d intended to create a dream-like kind of mood (the way Megan Abbott does, so effortlessly), weren’t good either. It’s just a prologue, and it’s not the actual book I want to write quite yet, but at least it was something–and it was in my mind so much I couldn’t really do much of anything else until I got it out of my system. It’s only about 1500 words or so, and needs to be redone, but I can work on that while I work on these other stories I need to get taken care of. There’s a lot that has to go into this book, which is probably going to wind up being shorter than I had really ever thought about–it kind of needs to be, kind of quick and nasty and dreamy.

Now that I’ve finished Where They Wait (more on that later), I am going to go back to something I’d started before my trip, and then I have some others I’d like to get through relatively quickly; but I do have a three day weekend to look forward to; so hopefully I can get some other reading done, too. I know we are going to Costco this weekend–I need to make a list–and I also need to make groceries, but I’ll probably swing by the grocery store on my way home from work tomorrow since it’s Pay-the-Bills Day. I also want to get a lot of the apartment taken care of, so I can take books to the library on Saturday and I can also drop off the dry cleaning, which will be a lovely start towards making the living room look like a living room and not a fraternity dorm room.

I do continue to keep tabs on the Noah Presgrove case in Oklahoma; his autopsy report was finally released last week (why did it take eight months is another good question), and it’s brutal. I knew it was bad, but Jesus. He literally was beaten to death, and the injuries are horrific. I also became aware of another case yesterday–Tom Brown in Canadian, Texas–which is also weird, is also small town stuff, and Canadian isn’t very far from Comanche, Oklahoma…although I doubt the cases are connected, despite the proximity; poor Tom disappeared on Thanksgiving, and his remains weren’t found for almost two years. Skin Hollandsworth had done an eight-part series on Tom for Texas Monthly, which I will probably read over the course of the weekend. It also occurred to me last night that I have become obsessed with the murders of teenaged boys in rural America lately. But how many cases like this are there, where a teenaged boy (granted, Noah was nineteen, but that still counts) is murdered in a small town where everyone knows everyone, but no one knows who the killer/killers is/are? Come on, now. I’m not buying that for a second.

There’s no corruption quite like small town corruption, is there? That’s also uniquely American, I think, and tells quite a different story than all the “real America/Joe Sixpack” right wing bullshit they try to sell us, where every small town is Mayberry and good American values are still appreciated. Well, in my experience every small town is either Twin Peaks or Peyton Place, and if that defines America….well, we need to rethink that.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

Heartaches by the Number

Sunday fun-day, and I am up much earlier than I was yesterday. It wasn’t a bad day, but I clearly needed to sleep in. I slept later than expected this morning, too, but here I am, up at just past eight and feeling pretty good. I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday. I did leave the house and get the mail (I got two shirts I’d ordered from Macy’s) and then swung iby the grocery store to get treats for Sparky and for us (they had the Snicker brownie cookies again, which are fucking amazing), and then I came home. I curled up in my chair with Scott Carson’s Where They Wait, which I am enjoying the hell out of, before Paul got up and we finished the first half of Bridgerton, watched The Iron Claw, and then after we watched the gymnastics meet last night, won by Simone Biles (of course), moved on to Hollywood Con Queen, which in interesting, if odd. I plan on spending some more time with the book today, hopefully finishing reading it this morning before getting some writing done today. I’d like to get this second draft of “When I Die” out of my hair, and I also need to reread and possibly revise “The Last To See Him Alive” before I submit it to an anthology. I have been very lackadaisical about my writing now for almost a year, and I need to start taking it seriously again. I think that’s been part of my feeling off for so long–I am not writing much, either and that always has an affect on my over-all well-being.

I also think the overwhelming pile of things I am working on has a lot to do with my feeling at sea and uninspired, to be honest. I do love to write, but as always, I have to make myself do something I love. I also am much easier to distract these days, too–which I do not like–but when I am home working it’s Sparky who distracts me (he’s adorable and sweet, so it’s hard not to give him attention when he wants some), or Paul getting up and wanting to watch something–I will always drop everything to hang out with him, whether I can afford the loss of time or no, sorry/not sorry–but I do need to get some focus. Maybe I should listen to music on my headphones? Music always works, usually; but who knows if the old tricks will continue to work now?

I also need to get caught up on blog entries, too. I still have to finish my posts about Dead Boy Detectives and Mary and George, I’ll have to do one when I finish reading this book, and of course there are any number of others that are dangling in my drafts folder. I also came up with a really good title for another story yesterday, sigh, which I scribbled down in my journal. My creativity is still there, of course, but it needs to be harnessed again so I can take it out for a ride. I also spent alot of time yesterday thinking about something I definitely want to blog about, which was triggered by Marjorie Taylor Greene, the cro magnon congresswoman from Georgia being the white trash piece of shit she was by attacking Jasmine Crockett’s appearance the other day–don’t come for Jasmine unless she calls you, bleached blonde bad built butch body bitch–and the whole “going high” thing. Much as I love Michelle Obama, I have been saying since the of Rush and Fox News that going high doesn’t work when they are going low; they see going high as being weak and they go lower. The only way to defeat them and shut them up is to give their own back to them with a vengeance–I bet the inbred trash will think twice about coming for someone’s looks again. And as someone who has had people going low at him for most of his life, I will not go high. You open that door and I will fucking shred you–and I also will not be shamed by “allies” (always straight white cisgender women, for the record) for giving it back to them. We are literally in a war for the soul and future of this country; going high with these kind of stakes on the line simply does not work, and I am tired of the right saying racist, homophobic, and misogynist bullshit while being told to “go high.” Sorry, Michelle, I love you–and I love you even more for your class and dignity, but I would love to listen to you read Melania for the racist gold-digging filth she is sometime.

The sad truth is you never win while seated on your high horse, and we as a nation simply cannot afford to lose. And they cannot stand on ANY moral high ground while pedophiles like Matt Gaetz and inbreds like Marjorie Greene are serving in the People’s House, period–as well as any traitors, and there are a LOT of those on the Republican side of the aisle right now.

(I’m also enjoying watching all the trash who hated the Chiefs because of Travis and Taylor now worshipping them because of Hairy Butt. Pick a fucking lane.)

And on that note, I am having some breakfast and then reading for a while. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will probably show up again a little later.