Category: reality TV

Let’s Go

I like the nightlife baby!

Sorry, had a The Cars moment. Their music, by the way, still holds up.

So it’s Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, LSU is playing Auburn at eleven, and most likely will have some things delivered. I’ll probably do chores while the games play; after that I’ll do stuff while switching between Texas A&M-Alabama and Tennessee-South Carolina. This evening, I’ll hate Mississippi even more for making me root for Texas again this season. (Don’t worry, friends who are UT fans, with all the SEC weirdness going on these days I will definitely be rooting for the Longhorns again, more than once, before the season ends. Realignment has changed things for sure; more on that at another time–I know most of y’all couldn’t give less of a fuck about college football, and I appreciate your not minding and bearing with me on it.) I feel good and rested this morning, and once this is posted, I’ll move to my easy chair where I’ll read before the games. I also want to get some of my newsletters worked on, another one sent out, and I definitely want to finish Mazywood, which is superb. I also need to do some research, work on a short story or two, and edit the book so I can move on to writing the next chapter. Bouchercon is going on right now, but I have no FOMO–I’m getting used to not attending things, and I really don’t miss it. Don’t get me wrong, most of my conference experiences in the crime fiction world have been pleasant, at least for the last twelve years or so, at any rate.

Yesterday was a good, if weird, day. I was a bit off yesterday for some reason I can’t quite understand; I took the wrong exit off the interstate for Costco, for one, and construction on the way back meant a detour to the Earhart which…actually wasn’t a bad way to come home from Costco. We spent over four hundred dollars, but didn’t seem to get all that much, either. I forgot to turn the dishwasher on before bed. I forgot about finishing the bed linens , so wasn’t able to go to bed until that was all done–can’t go to bed without sheets on it, can I? We finished The Diplomat last night, which is excellent, and then AHS:13, which is a hot mess but kind of fun; I actually enjoyed last night’s episode–about Madison’s falling in love with Satan’s son–but none of it makes any real sense; it’s like they threw in everything including the kitchen sink. We also watched this week’s Traitors (spoiler: they murdered one of the hot boys, so no more shower shots of him lathering his glistening wet muscles), which was very fun. I did run my errands yesterday morning, so I don’t have any to do today–I have to order things to be delivered, but that’s not a big deal–and I’ll probably run one tomorrow morning, which is fine.

I am loving this chillier weather; it was nice not getting drenched with sweat and overheating yesterday on the Costco trip, which is probably why I was finding it so exhausting to go. I love that I am feeling better and better with every passing day; sixty-five isn’t that bad. I thought how bad i felt was going to be the new normal (“you’re just getting older”–fuck you, quack doctor, if it were up to you I’d be dead now, you miserable homophobic prick), but now that I am healthier and recovering more all the time, this sixties thing isn’t so terrible. I like the lack of fucks I have now, and I am very glad that treating my anxiety has released me from the horrors of everyone has to like me I can’t have anyone dislike me and now? I couldn’t care less if people like me or not. I have very dear friends that I cherish, and I know a lot of people whose company I enjoy being in–but my default is always going to be solitude (Paul doesn’t count) and while I do marvel at how different my life could have been had I gotten it treated before, I don’t want any do-overs or anything. It is amazing how much my anxiety drove me to bad behavior on occasion, but at least now I understand it. Doesn’t excuse me behaving in a manner of which I am not proud, but it’s nice to know why. That dichotomy of not caring whether I am “popular” while having deep-rooted anxiety about not being liked created some intense cognitive dissonance–and I am hoping that isn’t going to be an issue anymore.

And on that note, I am going to get some cereal and another cup of coffee and head into ye olde Mines d’Spice. Have a happy Saturday, and above all else, GEAUX TIGERS!

Candy-O

And work-at-home Friday has rolled around again, somehow. I slept later this morning, and do feel a bit wrung-out, but not bad; I suspect my morning shower will take care of that completely. I slept very well–I am loving this cooler weather; I even wore long sleeves last night to dinner at Le Petite Grocery (which was superb on every level; the food and the conversation with my friend, whom I adore). I am in a pretty good mood this morning, and I also don’t have any meetings this morning, either.I have some paperwork to work on, and we’re going to Costco later. I also have some errands to run, which I may do this morning to get out of the way. LSU plays at eleven tomorrow, so I won’t have a lot of time to do much tomorrow morning…I’ll figure it all out later; right now I just want to swill coffee and finish this.

The apartment is also a mess, and I have to do the bed linens and the dishes (again), and it would be nice to get my inbox emptied today. But we’ll see how the day goes. I also have to finish watching this week’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, which I had started after work yesterday but had to turn off to go have dinner. The coffee is starting to clear my cobwebs, which is always a most excellent thing. I need to write, and I need to make a to-do list for this weekend so I don’t get off track and/or get easily distracted by a Youtube wormhole or something…which is ridiculously easy to do. Thanks, ADHD!

Apparently three escorts have come public with allegations that Lindsay Graham was a client, and I am not exactly sure why this is news? It would have been news had it broken while he was alive and actively doing damage not only to the queer community but to the country overall as well. He’s dead now, and being gay isn’t a crime…I am also unsure if it’s a crime to pay for sex. I know it’s a crime to get paid for sex, which is horribly wrong; the sex worker wouldn’t be doing sex work if not for the people willing to pay them. (I also don’t believe sex work, regardless of who’s the client and who’s the worker, should be a crime; more of that Puritan ethos in our society, and it’s about the patriarchy, as so many things are. The presumption is that only men will pay for sex and only from women; so of course the man is the victim and the woman the criminal.) Graham was dogged by these rumors his entire life, and I am not a proponent of bullying someone for being gay because some people think he might be gay. He clearly hated himself, and I cannot imagine how hellish his life must have been. If he hadn’t worked so hard against us, I might even be capable of some empathy for his fucked-up psyche. But money and power and acceptance by his peers was more important, and I am glad I chose not to live miserably. If anything, Graham is just another victim of homophobia in the end, even if it was entirely self-inflicted.

And seriously, who the fuck cares at this point? I also remain grateful that I didn’t end up like him, which was always a possibility until I turned thirty.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Enjoy your Friday, Constant Reader and I’ll be back in the morning before the game. Till then!

Double Life

Here we are and Pay-the-Bills Wednesday has somehow rolled back around again. How is that even possible? Madness, am I right? I’m getting more tired the deeper into the week we get, but I’m sleeping well and deeply, so hopefully I can make it to work-at-home Friday safely and easily. I’m also enjoying this colder (for us) weather. Fall and spring are my favorite, albeit the briefest, seasons in New Orleans. I really don’t mind the winter that much, either, here. I just don’t like snow, ice and frigid wind that cuts right to the bone. But it’s nice not sweating to death in the car before the a/c starts blowing cold, or from just walking a bag of garbage to the bins through hot soupy air.

Yesterday wasn’t bad. I got things done at the office, then came home to do some chores and write something due tonight at the latest, and there are definitely some emails I need to get to today. I am going to head uptown to get the mail after work and make some groceries–nothing major, but we need a few things–and I did get caught up on my Real Housewives shows once I was home from the office last night. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home, and Sparky needed his bonding time once I walked in the door. When Paul got home, we watched another episode of The Diplomat, which may be my favorite current show–it’s very smart and the cast is exceptional, and Keri Russell, Alison Janney, and Jodie Whittaker are killing it.

This entire Jalen Hurts situation is so insane to me; how was that medical advice possibly considered legitimate and not insane by anyone with a brain? Has everyone forgotten that the same thing almost killed Serena Williams twice? I don’t really follow the NFL, but I remember Jalen Hurts from his years in college football. Sure, I hated it when LSU had to play him, but that was because he was so good, and he seemed like someone not driven by ego, evidenced by his not leaving Alabama after being benched until his final year of eligibility, when he transferred to Oklahoma–and Alabama’s fans were cool with it, which is unheard of for that fan base. So, clearly a good guy. He’s also ridiculously good looking, and I love that his entire team is Black women. I suspect the lawsuit from this horrific medical incompetence could potentially bankrupt the Eagles–and it should. New Orleans would have never in a million years pulled this kind of shit on Drew Brees back in the day.

But then again, Drew is a white man, just saying.

I do feel pretty good this morning, honestly. I should be able to get my next newsletter out either today or tomorrow, and should have no problem getting another out over the weekend. Doing my Halloween Horror Month and writing newsletters about horror media that I am visiting (or revisiting) makes them much easier to produce, but don’t worry–we’ll be back to Greg’s Observations again soon enough. I also know I can’t be the only one who is ready for this election cycle to be fucking over. The recent GOP smear ads have been particularly disgusting–the one about Amy Acton in Ohio is completely disqualifying for Vivek Ramaswamy, whom calling a bottom-feeder is a compliment. The ones in Texas–which we sometimes get to see, hurray–are especially egregious and evil. How people can view this horrific lies and vote for the people putting them out is beyond me–but then, the last ten years have been an eye-opening experience, and sorry not sorry; that genie isn’t going back into the bottle. Y’all showed the world who you really are, and no amount of tears and FAFO is ever going to make me change my mind about what pieces of shit you are.

The “people going no contact with MAGA” has definitely become a broader, bigger issue, and it’s getting coverage…but always from the perspective of the people being cut off, and the fact they are mystified that this happened to them tells me everything I need to know about what kind of people they are. I read one piece yesterday from a mother whose son disinvited her and her husband from his wedding, and doesn’t really speak to them anymore because…well, she just doesn’t know why, and how could her son do this to her? The entire piece was the greatest example of why her son wants nothing to do with her anymore that I could possibly think up; and did she really think writing and publishing an article about how cruel her son is being to her for no reason? Just her publishing the piece would ensure she would never see me or my children again, which shows she’s probably done and said some pretty horrific things because she’s his mother, damn it, and he is SUPPOSED to love her no matter what.

The fact that she isn’t leading with “I wish he would tell me what led to this so I could make it right”? I am #teamson all the way. This sort of thing doesn’t happen in a vacuum.

Maybe some self-reflection, ma’am?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I shall return in the morning!

This would make a terrific book cover image! I love how spooky the bayous in the wetlands can look. Robert Miller does excellent nature photography of Louisiana. Support his work at https://www.rmpgallery.com/

Since I Held You

Here we are on a chilly Tuesday morning, after reality’s bitch slap yesterday, but I jest, really; it was very pleasant feeling rested mentally and physically, and it was a pretty good day overall, methinks. I felt good most of the day, my breakfast and lunch were marvelous, and I was also able to leave a bit early to beat traffic, which was also lovely. I do not miss the humidity. If we could have the heat with a bit less humidity, that would make an enormous and great improvement on our summers. It’s also nice to be waking up in my bed under a pile of blankets on a chilly morning, with a hungry cat nuzzling me to get up and feed him.

I sent out a newsletter yesterday finally, about the movie Gaslight, which I watched with my dad last week (you can click here to read it, if you like). We also watched Beat the Devil, which didn’t move me to write about it; it’s not one of Humphrey Bogart’s best, despite an excellent cast including Jennifer Jones, Robert Morley, and Gina Lollobrigida. While Gaslight may not technically be a horror film, what else would you call a plot that involves a husband trying to drive his wife insane? I also think the Gothic trope of “is my husband trying to kill me?” pushes them into the horror realm; what is more horrible than marrying someone who wants to kill you? And no one believes you? I remember reading an article a long time ago that said that one of the biggest fears shared by most Americans is wrongful imprisonment, which was taken to mean not just prison, but being locked up in a mental hospital when you don’t belong there or being forced into rehab. The fear also has the corollary of not being believed, and as someone who has been accused of doing something wrong that I didn’t do–and wasn’t believed–is a fucking nightmare.1

I came straight home after work, no stops or errands, and did some more chores once I got home and plopped down into my easy chair. Paul got home later, and we watched another episode of The Diplomat, which is most excellent, and they just added Jodie Whittaker, whom I love, to the cast as the new British Prime Minister. I slept well last night, and feel relaxed still this morning, which is nice. It sucks when you cannot sleep well, and that last week before I left I most definitely was having sleeping issues, and I am not sure why that happened. I also spent some digging out from under the massive emails I’d accumulated while I was gone, and yes, I know I still owe some replies to people, which I am hoping to get to today. I also have text messages to reply to–the bane of coming back from a wireless blackout is having to clean up everything that was let go for the duration–but I managed to get everything caught up at the office that had been let slide during my absence; the least fun part of vacation is catching up on everything that accumulated. I am also enjoying this cool weather, that seems to not be a false autumn but our actual fall–yes, when seventies are the high during the day but sixties at night is fall in New Orleans; colder than that is what we consider winter. I forgot to turn the dishwasher overnight, so will turn it on right as I leave…then I can unload it tonight when I get home. There’s also a load of laundry I need to do tonight, too. I worked on another newsletter (two actually; books I’ve recently read), and tonight when I get home it’s time to get caught up on the Housewives. I also need to make a Costco list, since we are going to go Friday afternoon after work.

The banality of every day life can be a boon sometimes rather than a bane, methinks.

In my random dive through the Internet yesterday I discovered two more interesting things about Louisiana: one, that Decatur Street used to be called “Vendetta Alley” because of all the shootings and knife fights back in the day (and doesn’t that make a great title for a noir?); and Watson Break, another indigenous mound city in Louisiana, to go along with Poverty Point. I am always learning new things about New Orleans and Louisiana’s history, which is fun but a constant reminder of how little I know about both–which begs the lie that I am somehow an expert on all things New Orleans. Trust me, I am not.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Tuesday full of tacos, if that’s your jam, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow bright and early. Till then!

Back in my bar-slut days, I had a pair of white jean Daisy Dukes much shorter than the ones above.
  1. Not being believed is a key component of Gothic suspense. ↩︎

It’s All I Can Do

Monday and back to the office with me. It was lovely to be away from reality for so long, but alas, it is time to go back to the regular every day humdrum of the normal life. I set the alarm last night, but forgot that I had reset the alarm that last morning before I left to get up at seven; fortunately, Sparky was there to get me up in time this morning. It’s also nice to not wake up to an alarm–but I can’t risk Sparky not getting me up one morning, either, and there’s nothing worse than starting your day off by being late and having to rush…there are few things I enjoy less than having to rush. It’s a crisp fifty-five this morning in New Orleans–no worries, it’ll be in the sixties the rest of the week as the low and the upper seventies for the highs the rest of the week.

I spent yesterday reacclimating to the harsh reality of life some more, by doing chores and ordering groceries to be delivered. I also made potato leek soup, and varied it by adding shallots and sour cream, serving it with chives, cheese and bacon bits, making it into a kind of baked potato leek soup; it was most delicious and I’ll be taking it to work for lunch the rest of the week, too. Yay, me! I also cleaned the kitchen, which was necessary, and I think we’re going to Costco this weekend, too. I also worked on newsletters yesterday; I’ve not sent out one this entire month and it’s definitely overdue; mostly about the horror novels I’ve been reading and some of the horror movies/TV shows I’ve been watching and/or thinking about. We caught up on The Traitors yesterday and AHS: 13; and then dove head first in season four of The Diplomat, which is excellent television. I think we may dive into the new version of Carrie (the original movie is one of my favorites, period, and I also love the book), and I also want to watch the Crystal Lake series; I love Linda Cardellini in everything she’s done, so there’s also that. Tonight I want to spend more time with Mazywood, which is exceptional (Tananarive Due is rapidly becoming a must-read author for me), and I also have my reality housewives shows to catch up on, too.

I am also ridiculously behind on my writing, but the week of rest while feeding my brain by reading was absolutely necessary, and now I can face the things I have to work on with a clear conscience and a rested brain, which is quite marvelous. I also have to check out my bank account and update the spending I did over the week/weekend; tonight I am going to go straight home from work so I can finish the dishes and load the dishwasher, straighten the rugs, and do some reading before I catch up on reality television. I think Paul will be working at home today, so he’ll be home when I get off work, so we can watch more The Diplomat when he’s finished working. Once I’m caught up on my reality shows, that is.

I don’t think reality has really sunk into my head just yet, either.

While I was gone dark, another acquaintance passed away, and I would be remiss in not giving him a mention. Mark Pryor and I volunteered together at a writers’ organization, and we worked very closely together on a crisis situation–and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to work with. I don’t respect many straight men, and he was a rare one, indeed. His support and advice and help were crucial to how well the whole situation was handled–mistakes were made, and he was invaluable in the correction of said mistakes–and he never once ever made me feel like he looked down on me, as so many straight men do, and getting that kind of respect from a straight man right off the bat was such a novel experience that it was startlingly nice, and one that I wish I could say wasn’t the exception that proves the rule. I appreciated him very much, and am terribly sorry I didn’t get to know him better. He was a real one, and a loss not just for his family and friends and readers, but to the community as a whole.

Be a Mark Pryor, guys. It’s not difficult.

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely Monday, everyone, and I will be back on the daily for a while. I won’t warn you again!

A bayou in the swamp at night–what a gorgeous image, right?

Moving in Stereo

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

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

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

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

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

My Best Friend’s Girl

Saturday morning and I should be waking up in a motel in Alabama instead of sitting at my desk in the Lost Apartment, yet here we are, you know? It’s gray out there this morning, but the sun is behind a few clouds. I just thought it more prudent not to drive up there until this is all over, and I don’t have to worry about flash flooding along 59N. I cannot imagine much worse than being stranded by weather in rural Mississippi, you know? Last night was the best night of sleep I had all week for some reason that I am not questioning but really am embracing. I do have some errands to do this morning, and I need to do some cleaning and get started on packing, too. There are games all day today on television, but looking at the schedule–I thought Georgia-Alabama was a night game, but according to the schedule I just consulted it’s the afternoon game. The morning game is A&M at Missouri, so…I can run errands this morning and have some things delivered. I was lethargic yesterday; I had the day off after my benefits meeting so I could drive north after, but the weather was too iffy and I really didn’t like that flash flood watch on 59N. I did manage to get the laundry done, though, and I did work on some other chores, but the kitchen and living room are still a mess, but that will give me something to occupy my time during games and half-time and so forth.

Oh, and GEAUX TIGERS! LSU plays at Kentucky tonight, and it should be a good game. Oh, the Texas-Oklahoma game is this afternoon, too. Like I said, lots of good games today.

We finished Neagley last night, which we both loved and hope there’s going to be another season on to infinity, it’s really that good. We got caught up on AHS:13, which has lost the plot but, you know, Jessica Lange and Angela Bassett, both of whom elevate their material. We also watched this week’s Traitors, which was fun and ended on an amazing cliff-hanger (as they always do; we won’t know who was murdered until next week), and finished Lanterns, which was also superb and probably the best DC television series–probably ever. Kyle Chandler and the entire cast is fantastic, but Aaron Pierre embodies John Stewart as well as Alan Ritchson does Reacher. Green Lantern was never one of my favorites (though I loved his team-up comic with Green Arrow, aptly titled Green Arrow/Green Lantern), but I did appreciate him–and I missed the time in the comics when Hal Jordan handed off to John Stewart and Guy Gardner, so was never sure how that played out or how we wound up with two of them–but I know John Stewart was around pre-Crisis, so yes, I missed that story.

If you’re also wondering how strong this Isaias storm is, they’ve closed Waffle Houses all over the panhandle and around Mobile, so yes, terrifying. And yes, the cost of gas is about to go up again, if it hasn’t already; storm in the gulf means jump in gas prices. Always.

Heavy sigh.

I do feel good this morning, and better about things in general. Yesterday, I was subjected to the ever-popular “shut up faggot and vote blue no matter who if you know what’s good for you” because I had the temerity to call out Democratic candidates who throw the queer community under the bus to pander to homophobic voters….who will never vote for your ass in the first place…and then not five minutes after the latest Democratic betrayal to have the nerve to send me an email asking for money “because we need to flip” Congress. Silly me, my thought was “you released a homophobic ad and you’re asking ME for money now? Go fuck yourself with a razor blade studded dildo, bitch; ask your TERF voters for money.” Oh, but queer people have to just suck it up and donate and vote blue no matter who but all you fucks who couldn’t bring yourselves for the Black woman because reasons but think we just have to eat a shit sandwich and hope she’s not one of them once elected? Bitch fucking please. How many times already have we seen this play out? Sinema, Fetterman, etc. Well, I don’t live in her state, just as I don’t live in the states where other so-called “progressive Democrats” have already walked back unflinching support; so, not a national candidate. Ask the homophobic voters you’re courting for money, because you’re not getting any of mine. Funny how candidates that are allies always have some other thing that doesn’t pass the “purity tests,” but homophobia is just fucking fine with these same people. Fuck them, fuck you, and if you can get elected, great–but don’t come fucking crying to me when your savior (remember Graham Platner? His homophobia wasn’t enough to derail with progressives, and they fought for him to the death despite all of his baggage…which inevitably blew up his campaign) turns out to be a narcissistic corrupt piece of shit.

And political influencers? They’re in this for clicks, likes, and subscriptions. I don’t trust any of them, and don’t much care for most.

Homophobes, or people who pander to them, are never progressives. You cannot be a progressive if you’re homophobic, racist, or misogynist or some combination of those. And if you think those are progressive values, enjoy Hell when you get there, because you’re a piece of utter shit.

Oh, don’t worry–ultimately, I am not going to be stupid and not vote, or vote Republican. Jamie Davis has a shot at breaking the MAGA stranglehold on Louisiana, and I am not sitting that out by any means. Do I know how Davis feels about queer equality and our community? No, I don’t–but I know I am voting for him anyway, just as I hope people will vote blue no matter who in other states. But I am already preparing myself for the inevitable settling of these progressive candidates into corporate moderates, like they always do, getting money under the table to sell out their constituents and supporters. But I realized that, yet again, I am voting for harm reduction.

Just one more time I’d like to vote for someone I can believe in, you know? I’m sick of voting for the lesser of two evils…and it’s not like the DNC gives two shits about us in Louisiana–where’s the money from the DNC for Jamie Davis and Angie Nixon? Schumer and Jeffries–both of whom need to be removed from leadership–are going to hobble anything if they have a majority these next two years, which is just long enough for them to write strongly worded emails and social media posts and nothing else so the country turns on them again just in time to vote MAGA back into power again in 2028. I haven’t given money to the DNC in years, because the milquetoast approach they’ve taken over the last twenty years has been an utter failure; I just give directly to candidates now.

I also think there’s way too much money in elections now. It’s become an industry. How is that good for we, the people? It’s not, actually.

And on that note, I am off to the spice mines for today. I need to figure out a plan for today, but first I’m going to check in on the news, see what’s happening with the storm, and have some breakfast. I will see you tomorrow morning before I drive north, Constant Reader. Have a great day!

Bye Bye Love

It’s now Friday morning with a storm taking aim at the Gulf Coast and I am driving northbound later. I have a benefits meeting on-line this morning before I can load up the car and head out on the highway (looking for adventure) later on. I’ll probably have to drive through rain, but Dad’s going to his high school’s football game so won’t be there until after I arrive (he got in last night). Yesterday was a pretty good day; it’s literally amazing what a difference getting a good night’s sleep can have on a person. I felt good all day, got a lot of stuff done at the office, and then departed to run my errands: food for Paul and the mail. I also picked up two books: Dr. Stacey Patton’s Strung Up: How White America Learned to Lynch Black Children, which is, I am sure, going to be a difficult if necessary read, and The Rush by Nathaniel Philbrick, about the California Gold Rush and the Civil War. I love Philbrick’s work–I do love some excellent history–and while I am trying to only read horror this month…Dr. Patton’s book certainly qualifies as real-life horror, doesn’t it? (And yes, the very first picture on the very first page is of the horribly damaged body of a lynching victim, in all of its horror and nastiness and inhumanity. When I do read and write about Dr. Patton’s book, I will probably call the entry Southern Discomfort.)

Yes, I was tired when I got home last night, dipping into this week’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City while Sparky dozed deeply in a cat puddle in my lap. I suspect he’s going to miss me all week, but will be very glad to see me when I get home next Friday evening. I still have to pack–I have my annual benefits meeting from work on-line at nine this morning–and then I’ll get to cleaning up and packing. I’m probably taking too much with me to read and/or work on, but…there are worse things than not having enough to read or work on. The storm will come through Alabama where we’ll be tomorrow morning and afternoon; so we’ll probably be indoors watching football games tomorrow morning/afternoon. I’m going to take my time driving, and I am in no rush to leave. It may be rough–I may consider postponing the drive until Sunday morning–but…I think it’ll be okay. I won’t decide this morning–but if I am not here tomorrow morning, it’s because I am up there.

The books I need to read to moderate the panel in Baton Rouge arrived, and I am very intrigued–both are science-fiction young adult novels in series that appear to be space operas, a la Star Wars, which we all know is my jam. I do feel a little unqualified–I don’t think I’ve ever read y/a scifi before–because I am not a big scifi guy; not that I don’t like it, but I read mostly crime fiction. I’ve read the big scifi names–Azimov, Heinlein, the Dune series, etc.–and dabbled a bit in the lesser-knowns, always enjoyed it, and have definitely seen more film in the genre than read books. So, I am going to have to do some research, not only on the genre but my panelists as well, which is always fun, but will also interrupt my horror reading for the month, which I think I will extend into November since my October is being broken up by a trip and by having to read outside of horror. And then it’s Noirmas season!

Hopefully this trip is going to get me to a place where I can read regularly again. I am really looking forward to listening to Shadowlands in the car on the way up there, and then reading some more while I am up in Kentucky this coming week. I’m not sure what the week up there will hold for me–we may go exploring or sight-seeing, as Kentucky is both beautiful and historic; Dad and I went to two Civil War battlefields one time when I was up there, and of course I’ve always wanted to see Henry Clay’s home, and that of his brother–abolitionist Cassius Clay, whom Muhammed Ali was originally named after–which could be fun. I know we’ll probably do some Dad errands, and I’ll get to see my sister.

And I always enjoy the drive back to New Orleans from up there, too.

After further checking the weather, there’s a possibility–a strong one–of flash flooding along 59 north thru Mississippi today when I’d be driving through there, so yeah, going to wait until Sunday morning now–which gives me time to do the packing and cleaning and some errands and so forth. It also means I can have some things delivered tomorrow for Paul and all the pressure of hurrying has been reduced. Heavy sigh. That’s a good thing, and it also gives me more time to get things done before I leave Sunday morning, which is yet another plus.

Which means I will be here again tomorrow morning! So now, I am going to head into my meeting and the spice mines for the rest of the day. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back again tomorrow morning! See you then!

I do appreciate that he’s not waxed and completely hairless.

Got a Lot On My Head

Wednesday morning Pay the Bills Day has somehow moved back up onto my calendar and somehow is today again. Seriously? When did this happen? My word, the way time flies. Anyway, yesterday was a pretty good day at work, overall. I got a lot done–with more to do before I leave Friday–and felt pretty good about the day. I was tired after work and was able to go straight home (errands tonight), and was too tired to do much of anything except sit in my chair with Sparky and watch the season finale of Real Housewives: Ultimate Girls’ Trip, and then two more episodes of Neagley before I went up to bed. I woke up several times during the night, but I feel rested–at least for now, at any rate–and tonight I need to start getting ready for the drive on Friday, which I am looking forward to. Peter Straub’s Shadowlands will make an excellent travel companion, methinks.

Well the system that sprang up in the Bay of Campeche started moving north, but the cone of uncertainty this morning has shifted more east, so landfall is moving away from New Orleans, which is a good thing. There will be rain and high winds and flooding from Isaias (named as a storm overnight) and it’s not going to be ashore until around one a.m. in the morning Saturday. I’ll beat the storm driving north, but it will impact us in Alabama and the cone extends all the way to Kentucky, but hopefully all will well and past when we head north on Monday. I was also a little concerned about leaving Paul and Sparky with a storm coming, but with the eastward shift I feel a little more relief.

I’ve seen a lot of chatter on-line since Monday night about how the “Saints let the city down.” First of all, fuck you, and second of all, winning this game wasn’t nearly as important as it was in 2006. It was twenty years ago. The average age of Saints players is 26, so they would have been pretty damned young when that game was played and a year younger when Katrina hit. Unless they experienced Katrina themselves, they probably have very little memory of it, or how important the 2006 Dome-coming game was to everyone in New Orleans; a city still mostly in ruins, and how wonderful it felt to have the Saints playing at home, and then winning in an incredibly exciting game? I remember Paul and I watching at home, screaming and yelling and jumping up and down–I’ll never, ever, forget Steve Gleason’s blocked punt–and how it gave us something besides misery and rebuilding to think about, and how proud and happy everyone was before, during and after. I wondered about it before hand; would the expectations be too heavy on the players? And the day did not have the same feel to it as it did twenty years ago. I noticed it at the start of the game, and owrried that maybe it was drilled into their heads how much this mattered, and they freaked out because of that combined lack of understanding and the pressure to not let us down.

So, yes, it was disappointing–and it’s always disappointing to lose to the dirty birds–but it wasn’t the end of the world and guess what? We’re all still here, aren’t we?

As for the MAGA trash in Nebraska? The next time I see any fucking farmer whining about getting exactly what the fuck they voted for, I am going to post that clip in response with the caption “This isn’t as funny to me as you losing your generational farms, assholes.” I say let it go back to prairie; the buffalo can repopulate it. And don’t come for me about blue dots in a red state–I am a blue dot in a red state. And if that was a Louisiana crowd, we’d deserve every bit of hate we’d get as a state.

And for the record, we are watching in real time as billionaires develop Skynet, because they think somehow it won’t affect them…you know, like farmers in fucking Nebraska. Miss me forever with that bullshit “real America” shit. Maybe real losers’ America, but never real America.

For the record, you inbred imbeciles, San Diego is the primary base for the Pacific Fleet, and there’s also a Marine training camp there. WAY TO SUPPORT THE TROOPS, you piece of shit traitors. Now do the two ports.

It’s the fucking death cult Sarah Palin told us about in 2010, but she said it was the Affordable Care Act that would set up death panels, the lying skank. Why doesn’t she ever get asked about that? Her party is the anti-science, anti-abortion, anti-intelligence, anti-health insurance, anti-vax party, not the Democrats (the corporate ones can lick my asshole clean the next time I have Taco Bell)–I have spent my entire life listening to the stupidest lies told from the right; they love nothing more than to bear false witness against thine neighbors…while warning us that we’re going to hell. “See you there!” is the proper response to that garbage.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back bright and early tomorrow morning.

Sexy Robert Kelker-Kelly, who I crushed on during his days as Sam on Another World. You can see why. Sadly, he passed away this past weekend.

Nobody’s Perfect

Tuesday morning and we survived Monday, did we not? It wasn’t a terrible day. WE were busier than usual in the clinic, so the day passed relatively quickly. I also made an appointment to get my flu and COVID shots for the year for this Saturday; if I am going to react to them, what better way to do so then in my easy chair while watching college football and dipping some more into The Dead Zone? That will also get me out of the house on Saturday, so I may as well run other errands while I am out. I have an in-person meeting Friday, so I am probably going to do all my hours in the office–at least, that’s what I am thinking today; that may change between now and then. Paul went to the gym last night shortly after I got home, so when he got home from that we queued up this week’s Lanterns, which was wild; I really do enjoy this show and not just because Aaron Pierre and Kyle Chandler are very good looking men. It doesn’t hurt, though; I’m not saying that! But it’s very well written, acted, and produced; perhaps the best DC television series I’ve ever seen (I may not be remembering some others, but I don’t think so). I slept very well last night and feel a bit Tuesday-ish this morning, but not terribly bad.

I checked the call for submissions for the story I finished over the weekend and was pleasantly surprised to see the deadline isn’t Thursday, but rather the 31st. That relieves some of the pressure to get it finished and polished, but doesn’t mean I should wait until the last minute, either. I know there are tense and point of view issues with it, so what I am thinking is I should let it sit until this weekend–something else I can do in case I have a reaction to the shots is edit the hard copy with post-it notes and a yellow highlighter. (Yes, I am old school.) I am also glad I checked because the word limit is four thousand, not five. The story checks in now at 4126 words, so it needs tightening for sure. I also got caught up on emails yesterday, which was a very lovely thing. I don’t know why I am so reluctant to deal with emails these days, but I imagine it has everything to do with the hundreds of emails I used to get weekly: who knew volunteer work came with PTSD? I sure didn’t.

I know now. Lesson learned. I eventually always figure it out; it may take me years, but I do.

Today is a slow one in the clinic, so I should be able to get caught up on administrative details. I can also tell I’m feeling better, physically and mentally, because I am keeping up with my paperwork and everything. I finally have a system, and it works beautifully; much better than the disorganized and inefficient way I was doing it–and it was, indeed, a rut I felt into while I wasn’t in top form and just surviving every day (I don’t longingly dream of retirement anymore, either), which was a deeply unpleasant way to live.

I also scheduled a newsletter for this morning; you can click here to read it. I have been working on this one for a very long time; it’s about the incidents that led to me writing #shedeservedit, and what I was trying to do with the book. The Cornell situation pushed me back to the essay and I finished it; I held off on sending it out because I didn’t want anyone to think I was trying to promote the book off the back of that poor victim, but talking about the book and why I wrote it isn’t promoting it; it’s about exploring a major societal issue we don’t seem terribly interested in solving: men’s entitled expectations towards women’s bodies: an unconscious woman isn’t an invitation for rape.

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