Category: racism

Don’t Let it Show

Sunday morning and I slept in. I also slept well, and no, didn’t want to get up out of bed this morning either–hence me sleeping in later than I’d intended. I was very low energy yesterday, physically and mentally, which I think had everything to do with the crash and relief after the surgery. As I said, since the medication switch (which I seem to never stop talking about) I don’t have the mental anxiety anymore, but my body still reacts to it. I could physically feel the relief once we got home Friday from the surgery, so I shouldn’t be terribly surprised that I am exhausted this weekend. This is yet still another reminder that I need to be kinder to myself about not getting things done, because it inevitably is beyond my control in the first place.

Paul is doing swimmingly. There’s pain, but it’s nothing he can’t handle with some medications, which is to be expected. But he can walk without the walker, and climb/descend the stairs without difficulty. This is an enormous relief, as I have to return to office on Monday and leave him in the capable hands (paws?) of Nurse Sparky, who uses his kitty healing powers on him as much as possible. It’s weird how cats always sense it, isn’t it? Sparky has been glued to Paul for the most part since he got home, although now he’s down here playing while Paul sleeps.

Because of everything we pretty much did very little yesterday. Paul got up earlier than I expected, so I turned the French Open on for him to watch while I tried to do some things. I made some progress on the apartment, but for the most part I wound up in my easy chair watching with him. WE switched over to a rewatch of Celebrity Traitors UK, which is one of my favorites (I told you I was obsessed with the show), before moving on to a new movie on HBO, Miss You Love You, starring Allison Janney and Andrew Rannells, which we really enjoyed, and then started Half Man, which is incredible, and I am still digesting it. It’s the new show from Richard Gadd, of Baby Reindeer fame, and will have more to say about it once I finish the show today and think about it a few days. It’s incredibly done, the writing is exceptional, and the acting is top notch. We binged five episodes last night before calling it an evening.

Today I cannot blow off; I need to do some things today around here and I need to have some things delivered this afternoon. As much as I would love to just sit in my chair and read my book with Sparky in my lap, alas, I have to get some cleaning done and some other stuff as well, and hope to have some time to do some writing and reading around watching television and hanging out with my little family here today while letting my batteries get charged up to capacity again today before I go back to work tomorrow. I also don’t know how long Paul is going to sleep in this morning, either. So I am going to try to do some things and get cleaned up before he wakes; I also need to run the dishwasher again. I did do a load of dishes and caught up on the laundry, so I wasn’t totally idle yesterday.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being idle. Christ, Greg, you don’t have to be doing something every second of every fucking day. Vestiges of the coping mechanisms developed for my anxiety, I suppose.

Okay, I am going to get another cup of coffee and make some toast before I get cleaned up and get some things done around here before taking a reading break. So, have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrrow morning, okay?

In The Heat of the Night

Saturday morning after a very tiring day yesterday. As I mentioned, we got up at four (!!!!) yesterday morning because we had to be at the surgery center in Metairie at 5:45 am. While he was being operated on (I really didn’t need to know about the bone saw), I stayed in his patient room with my iPad (it really does work as a laptop now) and read my book. After everything, we managed to get home by shortly after one. He did fantastic–he always does–and can climb the stairs and pretty much walk normally; he was like this with his hips all those years ago, but it’s also nice to know that getting older hasn’t changed how quickly he recovers from these sort of things. I was exhausted by the time we got home, and he of course had surgery, so we just kind of rested and relaxed for the rest of the day, watching our shows and overall, having a really nice day together at home with Sparky. We finished House of Ashur (which was really picking up at the end; shame it wasn’t renewed), the series finale for Hacks (marvelous) and then watched Scream 7, which we enjoyed; I didn’t pay any attention to the discourse when it was released, so I cannot recall what the “fan base” thought of it, and really don’t care. We had fun watching, and Neve Campbell’s return as Sidney Prescott (“You have to shoot them in the HEAD”) was also a lot of fun. (Which reminds me, I think Adam Cesare has a new Frendo novel, doesn’t he?)

Today is probably going to be another recovery day where I don’t get a lot done, writing wise, because I feel very drained this morning–the emotional fallout from those worrisome days always results in a mental and physical crash the next morning–and so am going to take it easy. I have errands to run later on–not very long, not very much–and I do need to do some chores around here. It really takes so little time for the place to just go to hell, doesn’t it? Heavy sigh, and this comes from oh I’ll do that tomorrow. I never learn, do I? I will always procrastinate when I can, but in fairness, when I get home from work now Sparky is very needy so I have to let him get to feeling secure again by letting him sleep in my lap (he’s much more neurotic than either Skittle or Scooter ever were; he has abandonment issues, clearly) and Paul got home early every night this week, so I went directly from kitty lap to watching television with Paul, and then it’s bedtime. I do have lots to do today, so once I finish this I am going to get cleaned up and get started on the apartment. I also want to write some today, too, and get some reading done as well as those errands. I’ll probably also take it easy for a while as well. I do feel drained of energy more than anything else this morning.

All the release of the surgery/post surgery worry, I imagine. I should have expected it, you know? I always forget these things.

Speaking of Sparky, he’s being very lovey-dovey cuddly this morning. Not sure what that’s about, but I do not mind.

I also woke up earlier than I had intended. I was planning on letting myself sleep in as late as I wanted, but woke up around five thirty, but finally got up at just before seven. At least the French Open is going on, so Paul can entertain himself watching that while I do other things; after he gets up, of course. I think once I finish this I am going to get cleaned up and check my to-do notebook, and then add things to it for today and tomorrow. At the very least, I need to get my next newsletter done; I’d like to have it scheduled to go out tomorrow morning, so I can start with the My Gay Life Pride newsletters for June. LOL, my mind is so muddled right now I can’t really think too clearly or creatively at the moment. But more coffee and some time in my easy chair reading and/or watching the news (I’ve been laughing my ass off at “Shut up you ugly fuck” as well as the Freedom250 implosion) will probably do the trick. I am also looking forward to getting back to reading my book. It is holding my interest, which is always a good thing for a book, but I do have some criticisms of it. Has anyone ever written an essay about gay male Gothic novels? I’d love to study that subject more, as well as to read more in the subgenre–if there are more books of this type even out there.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines for a bit before getting cleaned up. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and until tomorrow!

The Temple at Dendera. I would love to have a print of this.

If You Think You Know How to Love Me

Somehow, it’s Wednesday again already; a holiday will do that to a week. Yesterday was kind of a nice reintroduction to my work week. It was an easy day at the office, and despite feeling groggy in the morning, I woke up and got things done at the office around my clients. On the way home, I picked up the mail, mailed some books, dropped off another and then made groceries. I wrote for a bit on that story I was rewriting in my journal and I am quite pleased with what I have done thus far. It’s fun again to write, to wrestle with words and images and characters and sentences. It’s nice to remember that I write because I enjoy it; it’s deadlines that turn it into an odious, stressful chore.

Although I do wonder if I need to turn things into odious, stressful chores in order to get them done. Hmmm.

I also managed to send out a new newsletter yesterday, and if you want to read the new newsletter click here. I also wasn’t terribly tired when I got home from work yesterday (hence the productivity); I feel pretty good this morning as well–not even groggy Greggy today. I have a semi-busy day at the office today, but I get to go straight home from work tonight and that will be nice. I need to do a load of laundry and a load of dishes tonight, too. We still don’t know what time Paul’s surgery will be on Friday–they’ll tell him on Thursday–and I don’t know how that day is going to go once I get him home. I worry about his pain management–thank God I have that ice machine!1 It’s kind of ironic that I am again hitting the ground running with writing again, only to have another situation that will need a work-around. Heavy heaving sigh. Here’s hoping the writing continues, regardless of what is going on in my life. But it is nice that I am feeling better and productive again. Even the Achilles tendons have finally stopped again and I can walk normally again, which is also very lovely.

We watched an episode of House of Ashur and Widow’s Bay, both of which are growing on me (I prefer Widow’s Bay; it’s supernatural horror, which is a favorite of mine). I think there’s another episode of Widow’s Bay for tonight, and we may have to begin watching something else tomorrow night, or finish House of Ashur, which is a pale imitation of its predecessors–but there’s so much male skin and full frontal and queer activity and violence the plot is kind of hard to follow. The dialogue seems very stilted, too; I don’t remember it being quite so jarring in the earlier seasons. Maybe at some point I will rewatch the earlier seasons; I do remember Lucy Lawless stealing the show out from under all the sexy barely dressed musclemen. I do love Lucy Lawless.

I’ve also decided to stop blogging about politics. My commentary is not necessary for the discourse; anything I could say has been said better by minds more knowledgeable than mine, and besides, thinking about it is upsetting. I am tired of every day being ruined by the sleaze in Washington and Baton Rouge, and so I am detaching myself to watch from an unemotional distance. Besides, I think I have always been very clear on where I stand politically. I’ve always considered myself an independent progressive, with no ties to any political party unless they are pro-queer equality. Period. And I will never make nice or forgive or welcome blatant homophobes unless they thoroughly recant and work their asses off for queer equality for a minimum of two years. Sane with racists and misogynists, so, no, I won’t be embracing MAGAfugees until I see actual atonement and change.

I feel pretty safe in saying that means I’ll never forgive any of them. Ever.

So don’t ask, unless you want to pull back a nub.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope your day is easy or whatever you want it to be, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning again.

Muscular man leaning against a pole.
Those legs!!!! Although I can’t help but wonder why he was playing basketball barefoot in what looks like abandoned public housing.
  1. As a public service, I’ve decided to share the company’s website. They aren’t inexpensive (insurance paid for mine, they won’t for Paul), but they are so worth it: click here. ↩︎

Right Time of the Night

Up early to get labs drawn this morning, work-at-home Friday. These are for my gastrointestinal specialist doctor, whom I will be seeing in a couple of weeks. It rained most of yesterday and last night; and it’s cloudy and gray with thunderstorms in the forecast for this afternoon. I also got a notice from Entergy that we were having a scheduled power outage this afternoon–weather permitting–and I doubt that is going to happen if there’s such a strong probability of rain. I also appreciate the massive notice they gave us; so glad I went and made groceries last night. It’s probably not going to happen–it’s to replace a circuit breaker, so a thunderstorm is probably not the best time for it, but it’s still kind of annoying. I am debating whether I should buy a bag of ice on the way home from my labs. Ice is cheap, so it’s not really a terrible waste of money. And it certainly can’t hurt. I just need to rearrange things in the freezer. Heavy sigh. And the forecast changed while I was getting the lab work done. Sigh. Looks like we’re going to lose power after all, as the thunderstorms are now forecast for later in the afternoon.

Ah, well. I don’t need power to pick things up or read, do I?

I was planning on finishing Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece this weekend, but with no power I will probably finish it today. I also want to start my reread of Mary Stewart’s The Ivy Tree, and am deciding on my next nonfiction–Hollywood history–which will come in handy while writing Chlorine–the Harper, also a Hollywood story, also is inspirational for me. I always find inspiration in reading great writers. I don’t know about other authors, but it’s certainly the case with me. On the other hand, I’ve never really cared much how other authors do their work. Anyway, the two nonfictions I am looking at are L.A. Noir by John Buntin, or Gary Krist’s The Mirage Factory; probably going for the Krist, as I have greatly enjoyed his work before. Baby steps to get there, right? Getting there, slowly but surely.

I managed to get the mail and make groceries (so of course the power will go out for four hours) and made it home intact and not too terribly tired. I did fold the laundry, so that was something, and then pretty much chilled out catching up on the news (eep) until Paul got home. We watched an episode of Spartacus: House of Ashur, which isn’t very good other than gratuitous male skin (including full frontal) and violence–and the intense homoeroticism of men living and training together and fighting each other makes it of pretty high interest to gay men. Kind of like how homoerotic all the gym bros’ posts are, or the whole “alpha male” mythology. Newsflash: we aren’t wolves. Anyway, this mediocrity of plot and story has me wondering if the original series was as good as I remembered, or if it would not hold up today. Maybe I should rewatch at some point? If only I had more time!

I got a credit card bill in my email yesterday, which was kind of indicative of how bad things in the country are. I had used a phone app to use to fill my tank on the way to my uncle’s funeral, to earn some points and unlock a discount for the next time I used it, and the payment was deferred for a month. The bill? $18.09. Insult to injury? I had just filled the tank the night before for $42.09, and I have a high gas mileage car with a small tank. It more than doubled. So, MAGA, tell me, has your economic anxiety lessened? Or was it really just your miserable mediocrity and racism after all? I know what I think. Fuck you all, by the way.

So, Lane Kiffin hired Ed Orgeron as a recruiter and a defensive assistant. Coach O back on the LSU sidelines! Despite his big flameout, he is still very beloved as a native son here, and he did create the greatest college football team of all time. They go back to when they were assistants at USC, and I will always have a soft spot for Coach O.

And some good news, apparently there’s a strong El Niño effect, so hurricane season should be milder this year. Still have to keep an eye out, of course, but maybe our luck will hold for another year.

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

I love these old German castles in the winter, which always makes them look like fairytale castles.

My Maria

Thursday morning and my last day in the office before a glorious three day weekend, which is lovely. It rained overnight–it started raining just as I got home from the office yesterday, and then off and on all night. It even rained a bit this morning while I was washing my face and doing the usual morning ablutions. I’m not even sure what the day’s weather forecast is! Although it would be lovely to have rain all weekend, wouldn’t it? I ran some errands after work on the way home yesterday and had some things delivered last night in the sprinkling, and I even did some chores when I got home before I plopped down into my easy chair with Sparky in my lap for the evening. I felt pretty good all day yesterday (I feel good this morning too–I’m getting used to getting up at six again), and probably could have done some more last night, but I am done berating myself for not getting everything done that I want to anymore. I am going to try to not be overly ambitious this weekend; if I am productive, great; if I just get rested, that’s also fine. I want to finish Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece, and dip into my reread of The Ivy Tree by Mary Stewart. I also need to get a newsletter ready to go for Saturday; my latest one went out yesterday; click here to read!1

I also have to run make groceries and get the mail uptown before I make it home for the weekend. Tomorrow morning I have to have labs drawn for my GI specialist, and have an online meeting before my quality assurance work. The apartment is a mess, but not nearly as bad as it was going into last weekend–I’ve managed to pretty much keep up with the chores this week, thank God; so tonight when I get home I have laundry to fold and a dishwasher to unload. I also have a recipe for tomato cucumber salad I want to try (it seems silly to have a recipe for salad, doesn’t it), which sounds amazing, and I also want to pick up a watermelon tonight.

After I settled into my easy chair, we finished The Boys and caught this week’s episode of Widow’s Bay, which is really wild; I am enjoying the slow burn, Gothic sensibilities of the show very much. (I’ve been feeling kind of Gothic lately, haven’t I?) I think I’m going to let my imagination and creativity run free and drive what I write for a while; I’ve been trying to force it–to no avail–these past few weeks , and so think it’s time to try something different for a while and see how that goes. As I said the other day, Paul’s going to be recovering for a while this summer which is going to hinder my productivity, but it’s also going to be the hottest, most miserable summer this year. (It’s always awful, I don’t know why I am quibbling about the degree of awful it will be.)

Our moronic governor’s trip to Greenland–where he fled after Louisiana harshly rejected and rebuked his MAGA agenda–went exactly as I thought it would. Why send someone who is resoundingly hated by the electorate that knows him best to try a charm offensive? It went as well as could be expected.

As I was scrolling through Youtube the other day I came across an old song from the 1970s I’d forgotten about–“She’s Tight” by Cheap Trick–and it was just as horribly sexist as it sounds from the title. (I only just now realized “cheap trick” is also a prostitution reference.) What would a man be singing about in a song called “She’s Tight”? Yup, you guessed correctly. There were so many of these horrible sexist songs back in the day–and the odes to jailbait are horrible; the list is far too long to even attempt making one. But the majority are about fucking some underage girl who’s sexy and irresistible to the adult male. Gross, but it was also taken as a matter of course and “how things are.” And don’t get me started on the male teen virgin and the experienced older woman–which was a subgenre of film and novels and songs for most of my life. (This will be explored at some point in the future in a newsletter.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this rainy gray day in New Orleans. Have good one and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

Lovely Jacob Elordi for Chanel Bleu
  1. I’m really enjoying the newsletter, to be honest with you. ↩︎

When Will I Be Loved

Well, Pay-the-Bills Wednesday has rolled around again somehow, and I feel pretty good this morning. I didn’t want to get out of bed–it was so warm and comfy and cozy under the pile o’blankets–but I did and took care of the morning business and had some coffee. Sparky is rambunctious this morning–I had to walk around with him on my shoulders for a bit to get him to calm down a bit. I did do some chores when I got home yesterday, and I need to have some things delivered this evening…and should probably run an errand, too. I also did a little bit of writing last night, which felt great–even as the words came out of me like they were attached to barbed wire. I also realized it’s not going to be that easy to get writing done over the next few months because Paul is having two knee replacements this summer, so I am going to be having to take care of him, too, in the dead miserable heat of summer. Heavy heaving sigh. But…that’s okay. It’s always something, isn’t it?

I’ll survive, won’t I?

I finished watching The Traitors Canada’s third season last night, and it’s one of the best seasons, if not the very best. Now, I am out of Traitors to watch, sigh, until new seasons drop. I don’t know that I’ll watch them as they air or if I’ll wait till they’re all available to binge. We also watched the latest Euphoria, too, before calling it a night and diving headfirst into the bed. I have to have labs drawn Friday morning for my GI specialist (whom I am seeing next month) and I have an on-line team meeting, but I’ll be spending most of the day going over forms and correcting them. And then it’s a holiday weekend!!! Monday is Memorial Day! I am hoping to be either be productive this weekend or to get a lot of rest, one or the other, and I want to take some walks in the mornings before it gets too miserable out there. It’s already eighty-one out there this morning, and it’s still May, for Christ’s sake.

I get hate mail pretty regularly; you can’t be a gay man in 2026 who exists on-line and not get hate mail–whether it’s email or DM’s or tags (this is why I never look at my DM’s and it’s a terrible way to try to reach me because I do not like to read that drek–although some of it can be amusing in its illiteracy, ignorance, and illogic–and it’s not something you ever get used to. It was really bad when I was EVP at MWA (which clearly has a lot of homophobes in its membership), and I would turn off DM’s if I could. Most of the hate email goes to spam now and I don’t see it, but one slipped through the other day, and it was highly amusing. Someone, who really needs to wash his or her ass and legs, decided something–anything–I don’t know what–deserved a written email response, and yes, it made me laugh really hard. You’re coming at me because I am in favor of vaccines? Being called a “pro-vaxxer” isn’t the insult you think it is, inbred imbecile, and here’s hoping you never have to watch a child you love suffer and die because you’re a fucking idiot who doesn’t actually love them, really. You don’t put someone you love at risk of death because you’re incredibly stupid, because clearly, you don’t even know what love is; a cat is a better parent. Chew on that, asswipe, and be glad I didn’t just post a screencap of your email–and I wouldn’t black out your email address, either.

Because these people are stupid enough to use personal or work emails.

Yesterday, despite feeling a bit drained still mentally–physically I was fine–was a good day. It’s always nice to get unexpected money, isn’t it?

Remember last year’s bubble protest in the French Quarter? Sum up: a rich man moved into the Quarter across from a bar with a bubble machine which has been there for decades, if not generations, and decided the bubbles had to go. End result? A mob of people showed up with bubble guns and so forth and buried the Quarter in bubbles…and did it again on the one year anniversary! I love how petty this city is! I fit right in here, seriously.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I’ll be back for my last day in the office for the week blog tomorrow!

She’s Single Again

Tuesday morning and my slice of coffee cake is now crumbs. My coffee is hot and tasty as I sit here, bleary-eyed and not quite awake and alert yet. I do feel rested this morning and physically good, so that’s always a nice start to the day. I did get some chores done after I got home last night, and the kitchen looks kind of nice this morning. Overall, the apartment looks tidier, which is all one can hope for, isn’t it? Sparky curled around my shoulders last night while I was doing the dishes, and then convinced me I needed to provide a lap for him (claiming it was for a moment) and then going into a sound, deep puddle sleep, dead to the world, while I binged some more of The Traitors Canada. Such the life, don’t you think? I am debating whether or not to stop on the way home to make some groceries, but at the same time…well, it can’t hurt, can it? I am ordering lunch today as a treat for myself–I have to bring some extra stuff in this morning to the office, so don’t have a free hand to carry my lunch–and I want to do some chores tonight when I get home as well. If I can just get the dishes out of the way…

I also finished my newsletter on Phyllis A. Whitney’s Listen for the Whisperer, which I really enjoyed rereading. It did remind me of one of my biggest quibbles with her work, and that of her contemporary, Victoria Holt; the heroines don’t really solve the mystery or capture the murderer. They usually find out it’s someone they trusted and only when that person kind of loses it and either captures, or tries to kill her, or both, do they realize the answer to the mysteries swirling around the spectral and spooky manse where the heroine has come to stay and/or live. (Remember, Dark Shadows began with a beautiful young woman taking a train through the foggy Maine night to arrive at a spooky mansion full of secrets.) I think I may revisit my first Victoria Holt (The Secret Woman) or Mary Stewart (The Ivy Tree) next; it’s fun revisiting these classic, if dated, Gothic romantic suspense novels. That newsletter is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning!

In other surprising news, I got money from a class action suit involving Blue Cross/Blue Shield, which was completely unexpected. I get these notices every once in a while about these kinds of legal actions, and usually it results, if I register, in a check of less than two dollars. I usually don’t, because registering takes time and even if it’s just a minute or two, it hardly seems worth it for that small of an amount. So, seeing a payment to my Paypal account for almost two hundred dollars this morning makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I should register for more of these things. I mean, that’ll pay my Entergy bill this month. Not too shabby for found money, was it?

Last night, as I watched Season 3 of The Traitors Canada (season three is the best so far), I was fondly remembering how much I enjoyed dinner and the conversation last Friday night with my friend, and that maybe, just maybe, I should start thinking about extricating myself from this healing cocoon I’ve spun around myself since Mom died–it’s really been kind of non-stop since then–and then just kind of shook my head. Maybe not yet? I’m kind of enjoying focusing on myself and Paul, and just kicking back and enjoying the lack of drama in my life that isn’t coming from the television. Physically, I felt well yesterday, but a little still fried mentally. I started revising a short story yesterday–it didn’t go well–which was enormously frustrating, but it was a rather insincere try and I did kind of give up easily when the words weren’t flowing. It’s a muscle in my brain that I’ve allowed to get slack and flabby from lack of use (kind of like the ones in my body–MUST TAKE WALK THIS WEEKEND); and so it’s naturally not going to rebound immediately, just as the ones in my body don’t anymore. It doesn’t mean I am done with writing for good, it just means I need to get the muscle strong, flexible, and healthy again. The creativity is going very well; I am just having trouble stringing the words and sentences together on the page.

I am also having trouble focusing. Par for the course, really.

And not really very surprising, given that the world is burning to the ground as I type.

I feel pretty decent today–alert and awake–so we’ll see how this day turns out.

And on that note, yep, off to the spice mines with me. See you tomorrow!

Such a pretty young man–and a very nicely shaped ass, too, per the mirror behind him.

Country Sunshine

You say you love me, and it’s inviting…to go where life is more exciting…but I was raised on country sunshine!

I wasn’t, of course, but those summer vacations to Alabama definitely shaped a lot of who I am, I think. I tend to think about it far more than I think about Chicago or our suburb or Kansas or California, or anywhere else I’ve lived besides New Orleans. It is where we are from, I suppose, and having grown up listening to stories–family stories, mostly–I am not sure what is actually true and what I invented in my imagination. Sometimes I think, if I outlive Dad and Paul, that I might move back there to live out my days; but who knows? I have five years to worry about where I may be in five years. But my plan is, for now, to retire when I hit seventy. I am not going to count down the days (weeks, months, years) until then, because that seems to make the time pass even faster than it actually does–which at this point is pretty fucking fast, no lie. But I slept deeply and well last night, which is good. I was still a bit drained yesterday, which I didn’t realize until I posted and got up from my chair to start doing things…which ended up not going well. As soon as I sat down in my easy chair yesterday morning, Sparky curled up in my lap and went to sleep, purring. I thought, oh I’ll just watch another episode of Season 2 and then I could do some things. Sparky didn’t budge and I got sucked into the show, finally getting up to go to bed at almost ten! There really is no worse influence than a purring sleeping cat, is there?

Oh, well. Like I said, I felt drained all day yesterday, physically and mentally, so letting everything just rest with another day of not doing much worked, because I feel pretty good this morning. I feel like this week I’ll get back on track–a normal four days in the office and a work-at-home Friday again–and start getting used to getting up and going to work every day and doing things when I get home at night. I don’t feel like I’ll be terribly tired (one never knows) so I have to push through in the evenings after I am home and feed/acknowledge/pet Sparky.

So, no, despite big plans, I didn’t get much done this weekend. I didn’t even run errands! I just stayed at home quietly and pretty much rested, other than doing laundry all day Saturday. The apartment is still a disaster area, which I need to do something about this weekend; Paul’s knee replacement is a week from Friday, so I need to clear out some stuff and get the place as organized and easy to navigate as possible. I do worry a bit about the kitchen rugs and how Sparky likes to pull them up, creating rug speed bumps, which won’t be fun with a walker.

Our evil, corrupt bitch of an attorney general is planning some “big announcement” for New Orleans today; there’s a reason she is being recalled (fingers crossed!). My personal favorite of the rejected amendments was the rejection of the creation of a new school district for St. George, the wealthy sundown town suburb of Baton Rouge that seceded from Baton Rouge–and also wanted to pull its tax money out of East Baton Rouge–you know, so they wouldn’t have to pay to educate Black children (fuck the St. George racists from now till the end of time). That amendment was soundly trounced by the voters. Sucks to be a St. George racist. Thoughts and prayers, upper middle class pigs living in tacky McMansions.

God, I am sick to death of our current national politics. I was thinking this morning, as I shaved, how this nightmare is really never going to end. Even with MAGA dying, it’s like the hydra; it’ll just grow another head, like how Sarah Palin and her racist Tea Party shenanigans (don’t forget that bitch Ginny Thomas was a big part of it, either–future historians of this time will not be kind to either of them) morphed into this bullshit to begin with; an astro-turf movement fueled and encouraged by the propagandists at Fox and Newsmax. (You know, the vast right-wing conspiracy Hillary warned about in the early 1990s only to be mocked and derided….she was right then, too, just like she’s always been right.) The Trumpers who are turning on him now aren’t becoming progressive; they’ll line up behind the next grifter who tells them what they want to hear; there’s a direct line from Palin’s grift to Trump’s.

But we never want to talk about how the 2016 election was a replay of the 2000–the results of which got us Roberts and Alito. May Susan Sarandon burn in hell for all eternity, thanks again, “liberal” media.

It’s really no wonder I don’t want to write, because I don’t want the poison of these times to leak into my writing, which is one of my joys in life. But…I am going to give it a try again this week. I think being out of my rhythm the last two weeks has also had a lot to do with it.

Sigh.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and it’ll be tomorrow morning before you know it!

Half the Way

Saturday morning here in the Lost Apartment!

I am very worn down this morning, after our big day of appointments and picking up medications and Costco yesterday. I had an amazing dinner at Lilette with my friend Laura–I had sizzling shrimp and blackened onion and garlic soup; chef’s kiss, really, along with a very dry martini and a very delicious glass of white wine–and then came home, exhausted, and watched another episode of The Traitors Canada, which I’m really enjoying, before heading up to bed and sleep. It was a very good day, but I didn’t get any chores done and I never got irritated all day, despite all the driving an not taking my medications in the morning before leaving the house. Over all, it was a pretty good day, and I was most pleased with myself last night when I closed my eyes with my head on the pillow.

It’s also election day in Louisiana, and you can best bet I’ll be walking over to the International School on Camp Street and voting against everything our POS governor is trying to get passed; he and the rest of the racist trash in Baton Rouge need to be delivered a stinging rebuke from the voters–they need to know how sick we are of their fucking bullshit and their war on New Orleans. Maybe it’s time for New Orleans to withhold its tax revenues from Baton Rouge and give the criminal fucks nothing to steal for a year or two. I’d actually love for the IRS to audit every elected politician in the state, as well as being investigated by the FBI for fraud and bribery. I have faith in our newly elected mayor and city council to flip them the bird and refuse to knuckle under; history isn’t on their side. Baton Rouge has historically never been able to make New Orleans buckle under; I see no reason to infer our city leadership won’t defy the authoritarianistic racism coming from the capital. Fuckers, seriously.

I started reading Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece while waiting for Paul at his appointments, and whoa, it’s really excellent. It’s a continuation of some of the unresolved issues from Everybody Knows, which I thought was amazing. Good writing is always inspirational and aspirational for me; so I am probably going to spend some time reading it around all the chores and things I need to get done around here today. The place is a wreck, from top to bottom, and again I am very disappointed in myself for letting it get to this state over the course of the week. I need to empty the dishwasher and do the bed linens and a load of clothes today. I also need to have some groceries made and delivered. I also need to resist the temptation of Youtube wormholes today. I will watch some more of The Traitors Canada–Paul will be out of the house all afternoon, and we are thinking about starting Amadeus and House of Ashur this weekend. I also want to rewatch The Mummy Returns for a Mummy newsletter to add to my Egyptian series–and of course, I scheduled one to go out today at noon. I’ll probably spend some time working on newsletters today and a short story–that’s the plan, and to edit the first chapter of the new version/draft of Chlorine. Maybe a hair too ambitious, but I always think I can do more than I actually can. Some things never change, medication be damned.

Sigh.

Okay, I think it’s time for me to bring this to a close for this morning and get started on the cleaning and go vote and get cleaned up. I am not going to overdue it this morning, but I definitely want to get some things done. We’ll see how it goes. So have yourself a lovely little Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow, all rested and perky.

One would hope, right?

I’ve always blasphemously called this statue Drag Queen Jesus, because it looks like he’s dancing and the chorus of “It’s Raining Men” just started playing.

Passionate Kisses

Friday morning in the Lost Apartment after a very good night’s sleep,, and Sparky let me sleep another hour, which was delightful and felt fabulous. My dinner date is tonight–not last, as I had thought–so I have that to look forward to after a day of driving Paul from appointment to appointment and running some errands for him out in Metairie. (My reward is we’re stopping at Costco on the way back into New Orleans…I make it sound like we were are crossing the ocean deep, don’t I, rather than the fifteen or so minutes it takes for me to get there….it’s a New Orleans thing.) Tomorrow I need to go vote, and find out where the recall petition signing is for low-life scavenging scum skank Liz Murrill. (I have already signed the recall for the governor’s stupid ass.) I also need to drop books at the library sale, too, and swing by Fresh Market, so might as well do all of that tomorrow. I also am voting in the state election tomorrow, and planning to vote no on everything that is Janky Jeff’s agenda. I am actually feeling inspired by how many people are rallying here against the bastards in Baton Rouge. Maybe with some massive voter turnout for a change down here we can make the state better.

It wouldn’t take much.

The other day, when I was talking about New Orleans sinking, I did what so many people do–focused on what is going to happen to New Orleans only–when the entire state is sinking. The coastline keeps rapidly moving further and further inland, the barrier islands are mostly gone, and it affects the entire state. The loss of New Orleans tax revenue will certainly bankrupt Louisiana, but what will be left of the rest of the state as the Gulf continues to eat away at the coast and move north. This is a state crisis, not just a city one, but no one in Baton Rouge or Washington seems to give two shits. It really is astonishing how quickly this entire country has gone downhill, and everything eroded so rapidly. Again, I am glad I am closer to the end of my life than to the beginning, because there’s no telling what the fuck is going to happen in the next four years.

I was tired last night after work, and when I got home, I just sat in my chair and got caught up on the news before watching another episode of The Traitors Canada–which I am enjoying–and after Paul got home we watched the latest episode of The Boys, and I would imagine if they hadn’t already lost all their MAGA viewers, this week’s would do the trick. I am not really sure how an action adventure super-hero show that satirizes and critiques the current state of the country so blisteringly is airing on Amazon, the same production company that gave us the biggest bomb in documentary history, Melania. Obviously, no one has told Bezos or his lizard-wife about it.

I am hoping to have a good weekend. I am taking Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece with me this morning to read while Paul is being seen at his various appointments, and I am going to try to finish reading it this weekend. My next newsletter is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning, and so I also need to work on the next one, too. Then there’s all the cleaning and organizing I need to get done, too. Heavy heaving sigh. Just looking around this morning from my desk, the Lost Apartment looks like the wreck of the Hesperus. I do hate when I let things slide like this during the week, and I really need to just do the chores when I get home from work before relaxing a bit–I end up stuck in the chair with Sparky in my lap and nothing gets done. And I do need to be a lot more productive in the evenings, and resist the need to relax for a bit.

And on that note, this place ain’t gonna clean itself, is it? So I’d best head into the spice mines, and get this weekend started. I shall be back tomorrow morning, Constant Reader–see you then!

Very few pro wrestlers were built like this when I was growing up, or I would have watched a LOT more.