Category: racism

Southern Cross

Monday morning and I am up, drinking coffee and trying to get a move on for this exciting new week! I feel rested and well this morning, which is very pleasant, and looking forward to another new week. Yesterday was pleasant, and I spent most of the day reading or writing or thinking about work, which was nice. It’s always lovely to have a productive day, isn’t it? I find it to be frequently so, and also? Yesterday Scotty’s voice popped back into my head, which was lovely and also made me realize that was why I disliked the manuscript so much; it’s not written in his voice and we’re not really in his head at all and he is simply observing what’s happening without much of a reaction to it–and that sense of growing dread and unease I need the readers to experience isn’t really there. So, I basically unlocked the book at last, and am rather excited about it. Naturally, all I want to do now is work on it, but have to wait for free time to do it. Heavy sigh.

I didn’t watch the Saints game yesterday because I am still pissed about the moment of silence from the last game, and they got dog-walked by the Seahawks, didn’t they? Thoughts and prayers, Mrs. Benson, thoughts and prayers. I’m not sure if or when I will forgive the Saints for this slap in the face to the city of New Orleans (83% for Harris, Mrs. Benson, 83 fucking % for Harris), but this misunderstanding of the Saints fan base make-up (and those of the season ticket holders) is pretty fucking bad and makes me wonder if maybe she might be the gold-digging skank his blood relatives always thought she was. I for one am tired of being a fan of a team that regularly makes it clear they don’t give a shit about their non-white non-straight fans. I’m not at “throwing away all my Saints merch” stage yet, but pretty damned close.

I got deeper into reading The Hunting Wives as well over the weekend, and I am really enjoying it. As I’ve remarked numerous times already, it is very different from the TV show and so I am enjoying the book and how it is all coming together. I need to finish reading this before October–along with the other two current reads–so I can move on to the Halloween Horror Month reading. And yes, my enjoyment of the book means I am probably going to end up reading more of May Cobb’s canon. It’s always lovely to find a new writer you enjoy, but I have so many already I can’t keep up!

It was an interesting weekend for evil and corruption, wasn’t it? There was yesterday’s Nazi rally in Arizona, featuring all the right American fascists, but was a little taken aback by the shock some people have expressed about it; what the hell did you think it was going to be? Charlie Kirk is far more powerful to them as a symbol than he was when he was alive, and they’ve already started whitewashing things he said and did during his public, grifting life. I also loved that the ‘border Nazi” was exposed as corrupt and open to accepting bribes, and the fact that the regime told the FBI to drop the investigation? There really is no low they won’t stoop to, and as long as they remain racist and misogynist and homophobic their voters don’t care. Free speech is under attack, and don’t think any and all efforts to censor or ban “adult” material won’t be used as a pretext to ban queer work. I’m glad to see people are finally waking up to how rigged the Right and their soulless minions have made everything. Better late than never, I suppose, but this kind of insight was sorely needed in 2016 and 2024, thank you very much.

I don’t think the lady with the laugh y’all hated would have pressured a network into firing a talk show host who was critical of her, you know. But that laugh, amirite?

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines for the day, so have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader! I will see you tomorrow morning like clockwork!

Egyptian god Horus

Ride Captain Ride

Saturday! Sparky let me sleep late again, bless his little heart, and so I feel rested and good this morning. I have to run the errands I didn’t run yesterday (when I finished working I wasn’t in the mood to leave the house, other than a walk to Walgreens) and other than that, I am staying inside and working today on my own stuff. There are some games today I might watch (or have on in the background while I clean or write or read) besides LSU’s game tonight against SLU; Auburn-Oklahoma comes to mind for this afternoon, and Tulane plays Mississippi at the same time (GO WAVE!). Miami also plays Florida tonight, and I also haven’t looked to see what non-SEC games might be interesting to have on at some point.

I did get some things done yesterday around the house which pleased me enormously; I have some final touches to be done today around writing and reading. I need to redo my workspace because the last reorganization seemed like a good idea but…it’s not, and the workspace feels more cramped than it ever has, and I just can’t with that, you know? The apartment always feels cramped when it’s not in order, which I dislike intensely, and it feels pretty wide open this morning. I still need to vacuum the rugs and put dishes away, but other than that the house is pretty in order. Huzzah!

The Trey Reed story continues, and the official autopsy ruled it a “suicide,” although I’m not precisely sure how you can make that distinction between murder and suicide when the death is by hanging. From a tree. In Mississippi. Pardon me for not trusting anything official coming out of Mississippi regarding the strange death by hanging of a young Black man. I was also glad to see Colin Kaepernick’s foundation is paying for an independent autopsy on behalf of the family. (Speaking of Kaepernick, does anyone else see the NFL’s hypocrisy on drumming him out of the League for taking a knee when so many of them had a memorial moment pre-game for Charlie Kirk? Side-eye at you, Gail Benson–and I’ve not forgotten you and the Saints’ role in the New Orleans priest/pedophile cover-up, either….making it really hard for me to root for the Saints, you know? Also remember, she got all of Tom Benson’s money by cutting off his blood relatives…)

While I was doing my quality assurance work yesterday, I sat in my chair with Sparky sleeping around my feet and put Superman on to rewatch while I was working, and I have to say, it’s just as excellent the second viewing as it was the first…and I generally tend to not rewatch a film I’ve seen recently, so rewatching was saying something to begin with. Honestly, I’ve really not stopped thinking about this film since we saw it, and have watched numerous reviews and critiques (almost all positive) on Youtube ever since. I also had a lot more thoughts while watching the second time. The first time I watched it was as a viewer; and I am very glad we saw it on the wide screen, and I just wanted the experience. This time, I was able to pay closer attention to details and the plot, and so forth. The magic holds up on a second watch, and it also reminded me of why Superman is so wildly beloved. I also was able to pick out “the hero’s journey” out of the story this time, and I also realized that the Kents work because they were always supposed to be old for parents; they were already past any hope of having a child of their own when they found the baby and the rocket in their corn field, so almost every iteration of the Kents has been canonically wrong every time–the former Bo Duke and Lana Lang casting of the Kents in Smallville was particularly wrong, too. (He’s also a “found orphaned boy,” too.) Wendell Pierce was perfect casting as Perry White (and really, can’t we have Pierce in almost everything? He elevates everything he’s in, seriously.)–the entire film was expertly cast.

And I also realized I want to write more about Superman and revisit my love of the character from childhood, as well as writing about both Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, because I finally remembered that the reason I wanted to be a journalist when I went to college was primarily because the idea took root from the Superman comics, and my affinity for Clark, Lois and Jimmy.

I also realized yesterday why I was having so much trouble with this book before I got sick; I am covering some unfortunate events in this story for Scotty and the boys and while the final third of the book is absolutely necessary, it’s not going to be easy to get done because it’s troubling. There’s a lot of work to do on this manuscript, but I feel like I can do it now.

And on that note, it isn’t getting done with me sitting here writing this, so I am going to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

Screenshot

We Are Family

Work at home Friday, and my alarm kitty let me sleep in a few extra hours, so praise be at the very least, right? I do feel a bit fatigued this morning–my hip joints and legs ache a bit–but hopefully that won’t impact the day too terribly. I have some data entry to do and quality assurance to check off my to-do list. I have some errands to run, too–making groceries and the mail–which I will do after I get my work done. It looks to be sunny outside this morning; we’ve not had rain in a while, and there’s none in the forecast, either. As much as it rained in July and early August, we’re still almost in a drought in southeastern Louisiana. Wild that we’ve not had enough precipitation down here to stave off a drought…but it’s also why the humidity dialed back these past few weeks.

I finished reading the manuscript last night and made lots of notes, so I am also hoping to make a lot of progress this weekend on getting it finished, or at least much closer to the finish line. I was pretty tired when I got home from work–being client-facing in the clinic for thirty-two hours is a lot–and so ensconced myself with the manuscript and my lap kitty into my easy chair while catching up on the news, before watching the first episode of this season’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, which somehow manages to keep the original spirit of these shows–delusional, petty women who create drama out of nothing–without somehow ruining it in some way. I’m pretty sick of most of the others, and it is true that Bravo will try to milk every single penny out of a franchise rather than letting it die a natural death when it’s time. It’s the way of American television, after all. I also slept deeply and well–the exhaustion, most likely–and so am hoping to get a lot done today.

First things first, though–I need a new to-do list.

This week saw the most horrifying example of government overreach and censorship perhaps in our nation’s history, directly violating the First Amendment. I was also extremely disappointed to see ABC/Disney caving in to a government demand, particularly when you think about how firm and steadfast progressive support for Disney has been when they’ve faced boycott threads from the Hard Right. Is this the same fucking company that filmed Johnny Tremain? As far as I am concerned, I would have sued the complaining Hard Right affiliates for breach of contract or cut off their national ABC feed. You can’t make money without any content, can you? The fact that major network affiliate companies have just publicly admitted that they don’t support free speech and filter content with an agenda for their audiences means they shouldn’t be allowed to be in broadcasting, period. You either take all of our content, or you get none of it, would be my position. Obviously, my view and opinion on how all of this works is uninformed and possibly naïve, since I don’t know how this stuff works, but when a media company goes on the record making demands of talent and makes threats? I really don’t think you should be in business when you’re on the record as pro-censorship of ideas and speech you don’t like. Disney used to always play hardball and always won. This cowardice in the face of authoritarianism and the fall of the Constitution is something I personally will never forget. And going to their theme park in the middle of Disease Central? No fucking thanks.

Never ever forget that corporations are soulless entities only interested in profit and power, for all that the Supreme Court had determined they count as a person…although a person who cannot face criminal charges or jail time. How precisely does that kind of personhood work? Sad that corporations have more legal protections than people, isn’t it? And isn’t that really the bottom-line problem in this country, after its systemic racism and dedication to preserving white supremacy and the American heresy?

I’ve also gone back to my old standard rule of social media: if you come across my feed talking stupid-ass shit, I am going to not engage but just block you. Yesterday I saw an author stupidly claiming that this recent outrage wasn’t a First Amendment violation but a business decision. This woman, who clearly is too stupid to understand anything, has had some shitty takes before–but I have no time or patience for anyone who is that stupid…so out the airlock she went, and not sorry to see her stupid flat unwashed ass go, in all honesty. Here’s hoping this helps my sanity going forward and stops me from wasting my time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow most likely.

Oh, look, yet ANOTHER sexy image of St. Sebastian. At least he hasn‘t been “penetrated” yet by the arrows…

Beach Baby

I love this song still to this very day. It came out during a time where nostalgia was big–especially the 1950s–and the Beach Boys had just made another comeback and their album Endless Summer was a huge hit. The song is very reminiscent of the Beach Boys–all that California sun and surf and cheerfulness and high school hops–but there was a melancholy under all that cheerful nostalgia, especially with the background refrain, oft-repeated through it, of do you remember? do you remember? (The song also come out around the same time as a book called What Really Happened to the Class of 65? and I always associated the song with the book.)

It is Tuesday morning and I am up early, as always, swilling coffee and eating coffee cake, care of Costco. I did finish editing that story, and got it turned in. I hope the editor likes it. I had the idea for it many years ago–not that long, but it seems like it now–and started writing it, getting a draft done before wondering where to try to sell it. I was going to submit it to the Minneapolis Bouchercon anthology I edited, putting it through the anonymous read process as I did for the New Orleans and St. Petersburg ones because it would look like “insider pool” if I was accepted. (I have not submitted to a Bouchercon anthology since being told this, by the way. If their board thinks I would just automatically put my own story in there instead of following the same procedure as everyone else? I don’t need to be in any of their anthologies in the future.) I’ve had the idea for a long time–going back to when I actually lived in Minneapolis, which is where I also came up with the title, which is one of my favorites of all my titles. I did try selling some other places, but the story was still…not quite right, and was rejected, as it should have been. I think I was able to fix it, but…we’ll have to see. But it felt good to work on it, and I also realized that just because it doesn’t “feel” the same to write and edit as it used to, doesn’t mean I’m not doing good work. I’ve changed, both physically and mentally, and that’s going to make things seem different to me than how they used to work, you know?

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day, you know. We weren’t as busy at work as I had expected, primarily from no-shows and last minute reschedules, so I wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work and worked on the story. I didn’t do any chores–the kitchen somehow exploded again, I don’t know how all this happens, honestly–so when I get home tonight I can’t write or read or even catch up on the news until those chores are completed. I hate when the downstairs is a mess, and the whole apartment, when it’s out of order, feels very cramped and small and claustrophobic. Because I am all about the claustrophobia? Apparently so. I slept well again last night and don’t feel terribly sleepy or tired this morning, which is a good thing. Sparky was a combination cuddle-bug/attack kitty this morning before I got up, and went into attack mode again while I was putting my shoes on. I think Paul will be working late at the office tonight, if I am not mistaken, and so it’ll be time for some bonding time after I write (or while I read and edit). I doubt I’ll be catching up on the news; the current story dominating the legacy “media” doesn’t interest me, nor am I interested in being shamed for not mourning someone who advocated me being stoned to death, either. (Miss me with the “he didn’t say that!” Okay, then, tell me one positive thing he ever said about queer rights and equality. I’ll wait.)

The story not getting this fawning, wall-to-wall coverage from the legacy media? How about the two men lynched on consecutive days in Mississippi? The Mississippi “police” already determined the Black college student’s death had “no evidence of foul play.” Really? The other victim was a white homeless man, and their names were, respectively, Trey Reed of Delta State University and Cory Zukatis. After all, it’s not like the Mississippi police have a history of covering up hate crimes or anything. (eye roll to infinity)

We are living in dark times, indeed.

And on that grim note, I am heading into the spice mines. Stay safe, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Third Rate Romance

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. The Saints lost yesterday, but at least it was an exciting game. I slept well and feel good this morning, which is a good thing. I have to cover the clinic today instead of having an Admin day, and we’re book pretty solid, just as we were last Thursday and almost everyone showed up. It’s fine, I do love my job after all, but sometimes that’s a little draining. Ah, well, I can go home after work and chill out with my Sparky, who was cuddling with me this morning after the first tap of the snooze button. Bless his little heart, that’s not exactly helping me get up in the morning.

Yesterday, despite the Saints loss, was pretty good. I felt good when I got up in the morning–there was some fatigue still in my hips, but nothing horrifying–and while I didn’t do all the chores I wanted to get done, I did do some, and ran the dishwasher. I still have all those boxes from Costco to take out to the trash, but maybe I can get that done tonight after work. But while the Saints game was on, I actually wrote and read some more of The Hunting Wives, which is so different from the show but in a very interesting way. And the writing work I got done was good work; I could tell as I was working that this was good stuff, which is awesome. The short story is due today, and I just need to sand down some of the rougher edges on it before I turn it in, and then full focus on getting Scotty finished. I was actually thinking a lot about the Scotty yesterday, too, which is kind of cool. I feel like I’m getting back into the writing groove again, and once the Scotty is finished, I’d like to get a rough draft of Chlorine finished by the end of the year and perhaps start another novel before January 1. We’ll see, I guess.

We also didn’t watch the Emmys, primarily because we don’t care that much, choosing to watch The Thursday Murder Club, with its incredible cast, instead. I’ve not read the book it was based on, but have heard great things about it, and the movie was absolutely charming and very well done. I do hope there will be more of these…and then we watched this week’s Platonic before starting the new season of Only Murders in the Building. (I saw someone on social media this weekend say that they were convinced the best way to watch the show was to assume Steve Martin and Martin Short are playing a gay couple–which I can actually see, but alas not canon.)

As many of us saw many so-called allies to marginalized communities slip into their Klan robes over the course of the last week and weekend, outing themselves as, if not racists and homophobes, then are certainly okay with homophobia and racism and oppression…this morning I noticed on social media that there’s yet another furor in the m/m community; this time about those conservative women who idolized the late unlamented provocateur and everything he stood for…I generally no longer comment on this subgenre of literature as a general rule because I have nothing to gain by saying anything. I noticed back in the late aughts that there was an awful lot of homophobia and bigotry and fetishization in that community, and merely asking “why do you want to write about gay men when you hate and marginalize them?” unleashed a torrent of hatred on me…you know, typical straight white women who cannot stand being questioned about anything. One of the “authors” publicly claimed that I was “clearly jealous of their careers”–um, you’re neither Harlan Coben nor Stephen King nor Nora Roberts; why would I be jealous of you? The vitriol and hate and dogpiling by these horrible women ON ACTUAL GAY MEN with questions about them and their motivations…no, can’t possibly be homophobic, could they? They also would threaten us with voting against queer equality unless we knuckled under to their appropriation and creation of a fake public homosexuality. The stark refusal of any m/m authors to denounce homophobes within their own community back then was kind of a tell to me that I and other gay men are not only not safe in those communities, but that they would always close ranks if there was anything critical from an “outsider.”

I’ve never cared who writes what, to be honest. If you want to write about gay men falling in love and finding their happily ever after, go for it and I wish you well with your writing and I hope you do well with it, as I do every other author out there (until you prove yourself to be filth). But if you’re going to, and you don’t support queer equality (or vote against it because reasons), you really need to look inward and reexamine yourself and your motivations: why are you writing (or reading) about people you don’t support or care about? How is that any less of a betrayal than those of performers who make money off queer audiences but actually hate them and are transactional (cough Kristin Chenowith among others cough)? If you write about queer people we are always going to assume you’re safe.

Talk about a bait and switch. You’re contemptible– a deplorable, if you will.

And yes, we get angry when we are stabbed in the back. It’s also why I never completely trust “allies.”

But it is nice, in 2025, to see m/m authors calling the homophobia out. Thank you, m/m writing community, for standing with us in this moment.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Midnight Ride

TIGERS WIN!

It was a great day of college football, and the day was capped off by LSU’s 20-10 win over Florida in Death Valley. The game was very tense, and turned into a defensive struggle the Tigers won. LSU’s offense looked a bit sluggish, but the defense was sharp despite losing two starting linebackers early in the game. Georgia-Tennessee was probably the best game of the day, a back and forth struggle with numerous lead changes in the fourth quarter until Georgia turned on the Georgia switch and won in overtime. After the LSU game, we watched the exciting finish of Notre Dame-Texas A&M (way to go, Aggies!), before going up to bed. I slept well, but do feel a bit laggard this morning. Hopefully, taking a shower and getting cleaned up in a moment will wake me completely. The Saints game is on at twelve, so I’ll just have it on while I’m cleaning and working today. Tulane also won yesterday, beating Duke, which is also cool; first time since 1998 both LSU and Tulane are both 3-0 to start the season. I still am not completely convinced LSU should be ranked third in the country, but as I watched yesterday I realized I don’t care much about the rankings, which really are nothing other than opinions, and often biased ones at that. I also don’t care about the play-off race, either, or who gets into it. I think I’m just watching for good games, really, nowadays, more than anything else. Of course I want LSU to win it all, but…no big deal if they don’t, either.

I did order groceries to be delivered yesterday, so I didn’t have to do anything outside of the house other than take out trash and light the grill (and cook). I’m going to have to walk over to Walgreens at some point (ugh) but other than that and taking out some recycling, I don’t have to go outside much today, either. It really is sad how much I tend towards being a housebound hermit.

It was really nice to shut the rest of the world out yesterday and focus on something besides the collapse of the country. I don’t think the Right’s attempt to turn Charlie Kirk into a martyr is going to work–and his “poor wife” is just as horrible as, if not worse, than the deceased. It’s always amazing to me the way people will always try to make victims out of conservative women, i.e. “poor Melania” or “poor Widow Kirk” etc., when they are exactly where they want to be and no one is forcing them to stay. They are completely on board with their husbands’ bigotry and hate, and reinforce it. They will even turn on their own men if they have second thoughts1. (I really do need to read They Were Her Property.) Tananarive Due also explores this sentiment somewhat in her brilliant The Reformatory also touched on this…and maybe it needs to be the focus of a book where I can explore it all.

I will also add that I am sick and tired of fucking straight white bitches who use my community to bolster (and build) their careers only to stab us all in the back. That’s so fucking despicable. I was never a fan of Kristin Chenowith before, (or Selma Blair, for that matter) and the fact this living troll doll (put a bone in her hair and see what she looks like) is perfectly willing to piss on the community makes me glad I never saw the appeal, frankly. The “pick me” theater gays will undoubtedly continue to worship her (I’ve seen them defending her, but her continued silence speaks more than volumes–i.e. she doesn’t feel the need to explain herself to her queer fans, so in other words…we can all go fuck ourselves. Prove me wrong), but there are also gay Republicans. I turned my back on Donna Summer in the 1980s; you think I’ll forgive this bitch for her opportunism? Here’s hoping she gets a pie in her face on her next opening night. She deserves worse.

Oh, dear, I wonder if this is going to get me on a list? Funny how the Right’s crackdown of free speech in the wake of Mr. Free Speech’s shooting goes against everything he (and they) supposedly believe in. And don’t even get me started on the waste of taxpayer money trying to canonize him since his death. They have a new Ashli Babbitt, don’t they? His-and-hers traitors to worship?

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

Sigh, Florence.
  1. Which was my primary takeaway from Gone with the Wind, by the way. ↩︎

Love the One You’re With

GEAUX TIGERS!

I feel good this morning, like I slept well and recharged, which is always a nice feeling. My coffee tastes great, and so does the coffee cake we got at Costco yesterday. It was a pretty good day, despite some missteps (is every Walgreens in New Orleans a portal to hell?) and I had a strange experience getting gas, which I’ll have to sort out once the charge hits, but other than that and the horrible accident at Jackson and Prytania I saw the aftermath of (someone ran a red light and totaled their car hitting another one, thoughts and prayers) as the cops and tow trucks cleared the intersection. After finishing my work, we picked up my copy of the new Lou Berney and went to Costco. It wasn’t that expensive, comparatively speaking, compared to other shopping trips there. We came home, settled in after putting everything away, and watched this week’s Peacemaker before finishing Wednesday, which was a lot of fun before going to bed (I fell asleep in my chair catching up on news). Today I am going to order groceries, read (and edit), and work on the house during the football games today. Great games today, too–capping off with Florida at LSU (Geaux Tigers!) tonight!

Turns out Charlie Kirk’s murder was MAGA-on-MAGA crime, and not someone on the left at all. With their usual hypocrisy, MAGA was all in on “civil war” and “killing Democrats” before the truth was revealed and they immediately went in to “oh, no mental health that poor troubled young man” with no acknowledgement of their most recent blunder (they really are tiresome). And they wonder why we fucking hate them? I also didn’t have “Broadway icon whose entire career is due to gays being MAGA” on my 2025 Bingo card, either, the disgusting piece of shit. I never cared much for her–her voice, both speaking and singing, always sounded like a castrated chipmunk to me–but seriously, bitch? And you’re opening a new show on Broadway soon? I do wonder if the shrunken-headed leather-skinned flotilla of sewer shit will walk it back, but we really aren’t the ones…as she is about to fucking find out. Thoughts and prayers, trash. How’d that work out for Donna Summer? Do you think anyone is going to be booking Gloria Gaynor anywhere for the rest of her life? Gays have long memories, and we never forget being betrayed by someone who pretended to be an ally for money and fame.

I also loved the “free speech” advocates screaming about the communities he targeted not feeling bad enough about his murder. Remind me of the memorial day Jews have annually to mourn Hitler? If you weren’t targeted by this money-grubbing grifter and merchant of hate you don’t get to lecture or scold those who were. I blocked a lot of people over the last couple of days. Being reminded of how much trash is in the crime writing community is never a bad thing…another reminder of why I will never go to another crime writers’ conference ever again.

And for the record, that’s to protect these pieces of shit from me, because I am done being Mr. Nice Gay.

Sigh.

And on that note, I need to get my day going before the morning slips through my fingers. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and GEAUX TIGERS!

The blues in this image are exceptional, making him look better, too.

Abraham, Martin and John

Wednesday and Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around for the first time in September. I didn’t sleep all that great, but don’t feel groggy at all this morning. However, if I had to I could easily go back to bed and fall asleep all over again. I am slowly starting to lift myself out of the abyss and pull my life back together. Yesterday was a pretty good day, actually. I felt great all day, not tired at all, and was able to get a lot done at the office. I wasn’t even tired when I got home after work, either! Huzzah and hurray! I spent some time getting caught up on the news when I got home, and then read for a while before Paul got home and I went to bed. I don’t know if this is all because of the injection on Monday, but whatever caused it, I am delighted and thrilled it happened. I suspect I’ll be a bit more tired this evening than I was yesterday, but I will happily take it, you know? The fatigue over the weekend was so intense and brutal–I’ve never been so tired it hurt, you know?–and I hope I never experience that again.

I am a bit tired this morning (mostly because of restless sleep and waking up several times during the night), but it’s not that horrible fatigue, which I fucking despise. I feel a little off, but nothing terrible that I can’t deal with, but no promises for this afternoon, you know? I was thinking about ordering groceries to be delivered this evening, but am not sure I shouldn’t just wait until Saturday. I am going to barbecue for the LSU-Florida game–burgers and cheese dogs, the regular tailgating action–and there are an awful lot of great games Saturday–Georgia-Tennessee, Wisconsin-Alabama, and two other games at the same time as LSU, Vanderbilt-South Carolina and Texas A&M-Notre Dame. I do love football season, even as it takes away from my productivity.

At least I enjoy cleaning while the games are on.

The world and country continue to burn to the ground, and social media continues to be filled with bots, grifters, rage baiters, and sad, broken people lashing out in a pathetic attempt to somehow feel better about themselves as American mediocrities and failures. I have very little hope for the future of this country, now that the small-minded hateful bigots who don’t understand the first thing about freedom and liberty are in control. It’s also interesting to see how many Americans are into the whole fascism thing. Sinclair Lewis was very prescient with It Can’t Happen Here, wasn’t he? I also saw some insane shit-posting about To Kill a Mockingbird being racist1, but not for the reasons most people do. No, this empty-minded moron was bitching about the book being racist because it showed an all-white jury wrongfully convicting a Black man for a crime they knew he didn’t commit thus making white people look bad.

Excuse the fuck out of me?

As I replied, you’re right–it would have never gotten to trial. He would have been lynched the same night he was accused.

Because that was how it was done in Alabama in the 1930s, and to suggest anything else is a blatant lie.

I also love the MAGA bitch from Georgia who got the proposed Hyundai plant shut down completely, dealing a harsh blow to her own state’s economy and that of the district she is running to represent. If this were an episode of Law & Order, her body would be found and they’d work their way back around to her ignorance and stupidity. I am so tired of the rampant stupidity as the American empire crumbles and dies…this is going to be one of those times future history students will look back on and think but why were they so stupid? Couldn’t they SEE?

I was once that child reading history.

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

Artist’s rendering of the Temple at Edfu, Egypt
  1. My feelings about To Kill a Mockingbird are very conflicted, as I don’t see it as a great American novel about race the way most white people see it, and that may become an essay at some point. ↩︎

Oh Sherrie

Saturday in the Lost Apartment, and I am going to take it very easy this morning. I got my flu shot yesterday after work, and it knocked me for a loop the way it does every year. It also occurs to me that this year’s much worse reaction has everything to do with the ulcerative colitis, a compromised immune system, and the medication I take for it. Last evening, as I switched between the US Open and the Auburn-Baylor game (WAR EAGLE!) while trying to read The Hunting Wives, I didn’t feel sick or anything, just exhausted and my joints (especially the hips) ached and kept locking up, so every time I got up to do something it was awkward and uncomfortable at first as everything unkinked. The hips ache again this morning, too.

I was hoping to not leave the house today, but I have to replace my phone. Thursday night when I got home from work I couldn’t find my phone before I went to bed. I used the “find my phone” feature, and discovered it was last located at the corner of Marigny and Claiborne, where I turn onto Claiborne. Yesterday morning I went to look for it, but the battery was undoubtedly dead and that was its last known location. I couldn’t find it anywhere, so obviously someone found it. I erased it once I got back home, and one of my errands yesterday was to go to the AT&T store on St. Charles to replace it. The girl who “helped” me wasn’t very good at her job, I think, because she finally just told me to go to the other store on Magazine Street. It was all very weird and strange, and having already had the flu shot was already getting tired, so I went to Raising Cane’s to get something to eat and came home. So I have to go to the store on Magazine this morning, and might as well go by the mail and the Fresh Market on my way home, hopefully with a new phone. It’s been weird not having one, but kind of nice at the same time. I really need to break my phone addiction.

College football season has already sort of started, but it kicks into gear today. LSU plays at Clemson tonight, Alabama plays Florida State (I think?) and Texas is at Ohio State today. I’ll probably not do much of anything except some chores during the games. A new football season is always kind of exciting because nobody really knows what will happen, and the “rankings” are based on nothing more than last year’s results and the opinion of “experts”–and the older I get the less I want to hear from “experts.” The only truly decent commentator–one who isn’t full of himself and talks to hear himself talk–is Greg McElroy, the former Alabama quarterback. He is a sports journalist, he isn’t biased, and he takes his job seriously. I wish he was the primary color commentator for SEC games. Sigh. I really miss Keith Jackson every Saturday in the fall…

I wrote and published my Katrina newsletter/essay (click there to read it if you haven’t and want to), and of course last night as I watched the third episode of Spike Lee’s Katrina: Come Hell and High Water, which was quite excellent. It also reminded me of the biggest lesson out of Katrina, one that I didn’t even realize I’d learned until watching last night: I learned rom the Katrina experience just how privileged I am, and it was the first time in my life I “woke” up and realized it. We had the means to leave, so our story isn’t nearly as traumatic as that of those who couldn’t leave. We lived in the “sliver by the river” so our streets didn’t flood in my neighborhood; our damage was from above with losing the roof…but we still had a place to live in New Orleans so we could come back while the roof and apartment were repaired. Our jobs survived the disaster so we still had income. We didn’t have to ride the storm out in the Superdome, or needed to be rescued from our roof. Yes, the event was traumatizing, but I never felt like I had the right to complain about our situation because we were so much luckier than so many others. There was also that weird experience of, for months and even years, having to catch up on Katrina stories when I ran into someone I hadn’t seen for awhile. “Are you back for good?” was always one of the things I’d ask to start with.

And, oh, it was so lovely running into those folks again!

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

Love Will Find a Way

Work-at-home Friday! I did wake up early this morning–Sparky only let me sleep for another fifteen minutes before getting aggressive about his breakfast. Which was fine, I needed to get up, and somehow not being jolted out of sleep by the alarm has the psychological effect of well I’m up and feel rested. I was again fatigued when I got home last night, which led to me sitting in my chair with my kitty asleep in my lap like a precious baby. I got caught up on the news (update: the country is still ablaze), and then settled in for the first two episodes of Spike Lee’s new Netflix documentary, Katrina: Come Hell and High Water, which is very well done. The two new documentaries on the catastrophe are very well done. It’s depressing and painful to watch them, and remember…but watching has reminded me again of how incompetent the sitting government was, not just here but especially in Washington. (And all the time passed? Hasn’t lessened my eternal hatred for Brownie and Chertoff and others of their ilk–FAUX NEWS–who did everything they could to try to cover for Bush’s great federal failure, demonize New Orleanians, and spread vicious lies that impacted the rescue timetables, may they all burn forever in hell with lighter fluid soaked into their skin.) I wound up going to bed early last night, which probably dramatically helped with getting up so early this morning. Social media and the news today will–as always on the anniversary–be deluged with remembrances and memorials, which are appreciated, but sometimes feels like gritty salt being rubbed into the wounds.

I have a meeting this morning and data entry to do around my errands. I am getting a flu shot today (and seeing about new COVID boosters; I am hoping my age and compromised immune system will qualify me since we now live in Stupid World). I have to return a library book this morning, and I also have to pick up a prescription. I think I’ll have groceries delivered this afternoon as well. We don’t really need very much, though, so maybe I’ll just actually drop into a store on the way home. Or tomorrow; it looks like we’re going to have thunderstorms this afternoon…which will be excellent reading weather, and since I need to finish my reread of Scotty X, that is absolutely perfect. I also have lots of chores to do since I didn’t do fuck-all when I got home last night. We’re also supposed to get some rain this morning, too. So, once I finish this and post it, I’ll work on my chores some and get started on data entry work. I also have some emails to answer, and plenty of emails to send as well.

Southern Decadence, the big gay party weekend, started yesterday but attendance will continue climbing to peak attendance throughout today and into tonight. The weather is lovely for them, rain aside, but they won’t care about the rain anyway. It’s weird that Decadence Friday is also the Katrina anniversary–at the time I’m writing this twenty years ago we were getting up in that miserable hotel outside of Birmingham that checked us in at 2 a.m. but told us we had to be out by ten or pay for another day (their corporate office got a nasty letter from me and I’ve never stayed in one of their hotels again unless a mystery conference was using them, and even then it’s very reluctant and I have to think about it for a long time), and it looked like the levees had held…but there was no one reporting from the lower 9th ward. We didn’t know the levees breached (thanks again, Army Corps of Engineers) until we got to Paul’s mom’s in rural Illinois late that night. Southern Decadence was supposed to be the weekend after Katrina.

I’m not even tempted to even consider going down there this weekend. My, how things have changed.

Crime Ink: Iconic is wracking up kudos in reviews, which is lovely and wonderful. It’s so nice to see queer work getting appreciation from mainstream reviewers…who wouldn’t touch most of us back when I was getting started. This is such a lovely change and it really makes me happy, especially for the new generation of queer mystery writers, who are all very talented and are doing exceptional work.

And on that note, I am going to forage some breakfast and get ready for my day. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning here.

Another statue of Ramses II, in the light of a crescent moon