Category: reality TV

I Get Excited

It’s Thursday morning and it’s not as cold as it’s been; it’s barely below fifty degrees, which feels like a heat wave after the last few days. I didn’t sleep deeply last night, but I do feel rested today. I suspect I will hit a wall this afternoon and crash really hard, too. I have to get up early tomorrow for PT before my work-at-home duties, and after that I am hoping to dive headfirst into some writing. Parades are literally around the corner, and that’s going to be ridiculously stressful for me…although it may be interesting to see how my new meds affect parade stress. This weekend is more of the Bold Strokes Book-a-thon, which means I won’t have as much free time as I ordinarily would, either. But I’ve been feeling very clear-headed these days, which is lovely after all that time with my brain clouded and clenched into a fist of anxiety. I’m still not as much on the writing horse as I want to be and need to be, but I am hopeful this weekend I’ll kick back into gear.

I was tired after I made groceries in the cold after work yesterday, so once again spent most of the evening ensconced in my chair with Sparky sprawled across my lap. I watched this week’s dose of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, which was one of their most entertaining episodes in a very long time, and then Paul came down and we watched an episode of Lupin, which I am really enjoying, and now I kind of want to read about Arsené Lupin, too. Le sigh. So much to read and so little time.

Remember yesterday when I talked about how Tuesday I had kind of spiraled, despite the new medications? I just figured that sometimes it just might not be strong enough to do the trick or something. Anyway, so yesterday morning I didn’t have time to take my daily morning meds so I put them in a little plastic container and brought them to work with me. Around noon I went into my backpack and saw the little plastic container, and thought oh, I forgot to take them I’ll do that now but just as I swallowed them I saw another plastic container on my desk and realized I had taken the pills for the day already, but clearly had forgotten them in my bag on Tuesday…and it all clicked into place. So yes, I took a double dose of everything yesterday and I was in a great mood by the time I left the office to make groceries in Mid-city. But by the time I got home and unloaded the car and put everything away while also being out in the cold? Ugh, exhausting. I did finish folding a load of laundry and started doing another load I’ll have to finish tonight–along with the dishes; I want to clean the kitchen as much as possible so I don’t have to do any of it tomorrow or over the weekend. I also will have to swing by the postal service on the way home tonight, but that’s my only errand so I should be home relatively early and thus able to get those other chores done, possibly some reading, and even some writing in addition to quality kitty time. I’ve become quite attached to Sparky since he came home with us a few months ago. My arms and legs and chest and back are covered in scabs thanks to his Freddy Kruger-like claws, but that’s fine. I used to call Skittle Satan’s Kitty for much the same reason. I do love that he likes to sit on my shoulders, which is very cute. It’s also kind of fun to wonder what kind of havoc he hath wrought in the apartment every day when I come home–and it’s getting better every day. I think maybe that has more to do with me being better about leaving things out on counters and surfaces instead of him learning anything–he really doesn’t–but I’ll take it. The apartment is also slowly starting to come back together, too.

Last year was a bit of a whirlwind. Lots of ups and downs and a lot of brain frying, to be completely honest. It’s difficult sometimes to remember when you’re going through tough times that–hard as it is to see while you’re dealing with it–that eventually you’ll see what you learned from it. Sometimes I do need to be hit in the head with a sledgehammer, but eventually I do see it. What does 2024 hold in store for me? I don’t know. I don’t even want to hazard a guess!

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you again later.

I Ran

It’s cold again this morning, and I really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. The cold is unpleasant, and it does kind of effect my mood. Yesterday was most emphatically not a good one; nothing worth complaining about for any one single thing, but any number of little things going wrong that snowball until by the end of the day I didn’t want to be around people or even be on-line or do anything other than sit in my chair, doom-scroll, and watch Youtube. The evening was essentially wasted, but I feel like I did manage to be functional around the office yesterday and get my job done. It was so cold! I had ice on my windshield yesterday morning and no scraper, but once the defroster warmed up it made short work of that wretched ice and I headed for work. Several of the bridges around the metro area were closed–the causeway and the Boggs Bridge over the river in St. James or Charles or Jean le Baptiste (I like how that sounds in French better than in English). Schools were closed, and there was no traffic, either in the morning or in the afternoon. I drove all the way uptown on Claiborne from the office to get the mail, and managed to get there and back to the house in less than half an hour–and I wasn’t speeding. Paul wisely worked at home yesterday, not venturing out into the cold at all. I also watched the second part of the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City reunion, which is kind of interesting.

I also wasn’t in the mood to read last night. I hate when I have days like that, and I was also spiraling by the time I got home. It was deeply unpleasant, and it’s been a very long time since that’s happened. I don’t know why my new meds decided to stop working, but that’s the kind of thing it’s supposed to not allow to happen. I really don’t like spiraling, and the worst part of it is that I’m aware that it’s happening but there’s nothing I can do to make it stop. But it remains a good reminder of how much better I’ve been doing and how much happier and more relaxed and less anxious I’ve been since changing medications. I also hardly ate anything yesterday, which is always an indication that I am really stressed out, too. My eating and stress are inevitably tied together; I’m not sure why that is but it has a lot to do with a lifetime of body image problems. One would think that by age sixty-two I would know better and wouldn’t fall back so easily into bad habits and bad behaviors, but here we are.

It’s also Pay-the-Bills Wednesday, and due to the vagaries of how pay periods fall when there are more than two in a month, this is kind of like an extra paycheck; a few bills to pay but otherwise a little flush. I’m going to try to be wise and save some of it for upcoming medical bills–dealing with my wonderful new insurance plan was part of yesterday’s idiocy; suffice it to say Blue Cross Blue Shield of Louisiana is still the same piece of shit health insurance company they were when I gladly said farewell to them fourteen years ago, only to have them show up again like a fucking herpes chancre on the tip of your penis. Humana wasn’t great by any means, but when I think about how I would have had to fight Blue Cross/Blue Shield for every penny for my surgery and recovery time, I thank the Lord they were still my carrier last year. I have also now found myself in the same boat so many others have found themselves in: having to work for the health insurance, and the day job gradually taking so much time and energy that my other sources of income suffered, to the point where I now also can’t afford to quit my job. Yes, that’s my American freedom: unable to leave a job because I need the insurance, no matter how shitty and useless it actually is.

I don’t want this for the younger generations, either. They deserve better than what my generation had, not worse. That was the American dream I was raised on–where each generation is better off than the one before. That really isn’t true anymore. I honestly don’t know who the people are who can afford the rents in New Orleans, let alone buy property. Owning your own home was the cornerstone of American prosperity, because that was the seed from which all generational wealth grew for the middle class. How can you buy a house when your student loan debt payment is more than a mortgage? Why is college so expensive, and why are administrative expenses rising while academic expenses in univerity budgets are being cut regularly? So kids are spending far more for an education that isn’t as fully rounded as it used to be, and plunging deeply into debt for careers that won’t allow them to ever see daylight. I mean, you can pay off a mortgage, but student loans? Good fucking luck. I thank the universe every day that I never had student loans. Isn’t it malpractice to charge more in college fees and tuition and other associated expenses than the student will ever make in that field in a year? Shouldn’t someone be telling students this so they can actually make an informed decision about their future?

Capitalism has been exposed over the last forty or so years as a fool’s game, and it’s destroying our country in the process. Greed and selfishness is the real American way, and I really don’t think our Constitution gives people the freedom to exploit and scam others. Capitalism and Christianity do not go hand in hand, either; capitalism should be the antithesis of Christianity, and anyone preaching the so-called “prosperity gospel” is teaching heresy.

Le sigh. And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Stay warm, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

State of Independence

Up ridiculously early for PT this morning, but it’s fine, I suppose. I am awake, not foggy headed, nor does my body feel tired, so that’s a win of sorts. I’m glad I survived my first full week of work this year, only to have another three day weekend on deck. I’m falling behind; Sparky was feeling especially needy last night and was in need of cuddles. I started a load of laundry before I sat down to let him get comfortable and reassure him he wasn’t abandoned–a nightly occurrence lately–and then I started getting caught up on Real Housewives and this week’s Percy Jackson and before I knew it, it was time for bed and I didn’t finish the laundry, empty the dishwasher, or do much of anything last night, which felt terribly wrong on every level. But it was okay, I suppose. I’m trying not to be too hard on myself for not getting more done in the evenings–trying to be not so hard on myself in general in this new year.

Nick Saban retired yesterday, as probably the most successful college football coach of all time. It’s going to be weird going into the next season without him at the helm at Alabama. I hated that he came back to college football by going there–it was such a massive betrayal of LSU, where he was from 2000-2004, rebuilding the program and bringing it back to glory, along with a national title–which made Alabama a big hurdle to get past every year. It was frustrating to lose to them almost every year, but I also got over my anger at him and he won back my respect. He seems like a good guy for the most part, and his players loved him and performed for him in a way few coaches ever accomplish. He won seven national titles (including his first, at LSU in 2003), and there were only a few seasons (2007, 2010, 2013, 2019) that Alabama was out of the national picture at the end of the regular season, which is pretty impressive. They won two national titles without winning the conference! I wonder who will take his place? Alabama is a brand, and their fans don’t tolerate not winning, so there’s a lot of pressure that comes with the gig; kind of like when Bear Bryant retired back in 1982. Between the Bear and Saban the Tide only won the national title once. I appreciate Saban’s legacy, and can’t help but wonder if Alabama will remain at the top of the SEC, or whether it’s time for a run by another school–LSU, Mississippi, Georgia, Texas, Oklahoma–to have a strong run like Florida’s from 2005-2012.

My guess is he didn’t want to deal with the new play-off system and really didn’t like some of the other changes happening in the sport, and realized he didn’t have to.

It’s also cold here this morning, and next week it’s apparently going to be even colder. Huzzah, he typed sarcastically. But it’s much better in the apartment now than it used to be; it’s amazing how life-changing the new system (which isn’t all that new anymore) has made in the winter months around here. It’s also been great being able to wear my Fitbit again now that the brace is gone, and now I can track just how well I’ve been sleeping every night; I used to be lucky to get a sleep score over 75 more than once a week; now my lowest sleep score since strapping it back to my wrist was 78, and the others were all over 80, which used to be a very rare happenstance. It’s so nice to sleep deeply and well on a regular basis; it’s amazing what a difference it makes in quality of life, but I’ve got to stop being so focused on Sparky time when I get home from work and need to do some things first, because if I give in to him I’m down for the night.

I also hope to be productive this weekend. I have a lot of shit to get done, and lots of housework to do. But I am starting to feel creative again, which is terrific, and my mind feels clearer than it has in years; maybe that means I’ll do better work? But then again, the work I’ve been producing over the last six years has been my best, I think, and I would like to keep getting better. I really need to get that copy edit of Jackson Square Jazz done so I can get it back in print, and I want to get this short story collection finished, and…and…and…there’s so much that I have on hand that is unfinished! But I think I’ve finally figured out the problem with one short story, figured out how to do another that I’ve been stuck on, and so yeah, these are all good things, right?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Perhaps will be back later, or else it won’t be until tomorrow. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader!

Put It In A Magazine

Wednesday morning in the Lost Apartment, where it is a staggering 39 degrees outside. Brrr! But I slept pretty well (even if I didn’t want to get up), and my mind is slowly but surely coming back to life. Yesterday wasn’t a bad day at all, but I was out of sorts and off-track for pretty much the entire day, because my routine was disrupted when I got to work and so…yeah. I did run my errands on the way home from work last night and got home to a needy Sparky, so I had to spend some time playing with him and then transformed my lap into a cat bed for a little while. Tomorrow morning I have to get up super-early for PT–which I am not looking forward to, and of course there’s a department meeting on Friday morning, that I think I’ll go into the office for despite it being my at-home day and having the ability to call in for it. I have some on-line events Saturday for the January Bold Strokes bookathon, which I should post more about, and then the rest of the weekend is mine.

I did some more research into a story I am writing last night, and yes, I actually started writing the story. I’m writing about Julia Brown, the “witch” of Manchac Swamp who worked as the healer in a small town inside the swamp and along the lake shore, which was only accessible by railroad. Frenier was a small community, and it was completely destroyed by the 1915 hurricane; all that is left of it is the cemetery and it’s only accessible by boat now. I’ve always wanted to write about the 1915 hurricane since I first learned of it–it came up when I was down a rabbit-hole about the Filipino settlements on Lake Borgne, which were also destroyed in the 1915 hurricane, which led me to reading about Frenier, and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. (I do wish I’d known about all this before I wrote a Sherlock story set in 1916; no mention of the previous year’s destruction in that story is odd but maybe unnecessary; it didn’t impact the plot of the story at all, but…if I set another Sherlock story in that same time period I need to address that elephant in the room.)

I also went down another research wormhole last night, too–inspired by Mary & George–about George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham and his close relationship not only with James I but with his son, Charles I…although the relationship between Villiers and Charles I wasn’t quite the same kind of erotic friendship as Villiers enjoyed with the senior Stuart. Buckingham was also one of the real historical figures that appeared in Dumas’ The Three Musketeers, which I still want to retell one day from the point of view of Milady deWinter. It’s such a fascinating period, really, and the clothes! Mon Dieu, the clothes! I’ve always been fascinated by Cardinal Richelieu, and really need to get over my fear of writing about a historical period and just buckle down and write that damned book, don’t I? Sigh. I also need to get back to both Chlorine and Muscles, too.

Heavy heaving sigh.

But I am also starting to feel like I am settling back into my normal, every day life, and I feel better than I have in years. That cloudy feeling in my brain seems to be gone, and I am adapting to getting back up early in the morning without much hassle; I suspect the sleeping pills are working their magic and sending me into a deep healthy sleep every night, which pays off in being both awake and lucid in the morning. I’ve also got some blog entries to finish writing–my thoughts on Saltburn, because I know everyone is just waiting to hear what I have to say about it, and some analysis of the most recent chapter of the graphic novel Heartstopper, both of which are destined to be queer cultural artifacts.

And I hope to finish reading Tara Laskowski’s The Weekend Retreat before the weekend, too. I should have spent some time with it last night, but it was after six when I got home and by the time I was finished with putting stuff away and quality Sparky time and writing, it was later and so I just went down the Villiers wormhole. I also watched the final episode of season 2 of War of the Worlds, and am officially tapping out now. Not only was the shark jumped, the story became preposterous. I thought it might be a bit more interesting and intriguing once I realized the direction they were going in, but no. I also forgot part one of the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City was airing last night, so I’ll be catching up on that tonight after reading. I get to go straight home from the office tonight, so fingers crossed that I’ll get some good reading time in before I shut my mind off and dig into some reality television.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and who knows? I may be back later.

You’ve Got Another Thing Coming

And now it’s Thursday, the last day in the office for me this week, and I somehow made it through the entire week of going into the office without being tired by the end. The jury of course is still out about today–I’ll have to see how I feel at the end of the day, or mid-afternoon, of course–but I am very pleased to be awake and feeling rested this morning. I took it easy when I got home from work yesterday, spending some quality playtime with Sparky and watching some Real Housewives–my God, the Salt Lake City finale was some epic reality television–and couldn’t decide what to read next. I am leaning towards R. F. Kuang’s Yellowface (because I love me some publishing noir about authors behaving badly), but there are others in the running as well (most notably Tara Laskowski’s The Weekend Retreat). Tonight when I get home from work I will decide; I am coming home straight from work again; no need to run errands on the cusp of the weekend. I also need to get back to writing, and the sooner the better. I have high hopes for this weekend because it appears as though I won’t be tired going into the weekend, and the kitchen isn’t nearly as big a mess as it usually is on Thursdays–so if I can get the dishes handled tonight, I’ll be way ahead of things when I get home from PT tomorrow morning. I am seeing Dr. O’Brien at last on Saturday, so I am hoping to kiss the brace goodbye once and for all. LSU Gymnastics also has their first meet on Friday night, which is always fun to follow. The team is really loaded this year, too. GEAUX TIGERS!

I also want to get to the library sale this weekend to donate some books, too. Maybe I can spend some time tonight and tomorrow night pruning out more books. The laundry room is nearly under control again, but there are still even more books that can go.

And I should really started copy-editing Jackson Square Jazz so I can finally get that ebook up and available for readers. I am losing money every day that book isn’t available, and I might be able to run a promo when it becomes available (I am thinking of offering Bourbon Street Blues for free and Jackson Square Jazz for $1.99 for about a month or so). I mean, it makes sense: Scotty turns 21 this year, so I should be promoting the hell out of the Scotty series this year–and should really write another to get out this year, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve always focused more on writing the books than promoting them; I only have so much bandwidth, and writing/editing generally uses up the megabytes in my brain that have to do with writing/publishing. I’ve also been very shy about promo, too–which was the anxiety bedeviling me. Maybe now that I am on the right medications, that won’t be a problem going forward. It’s already helped me with some aspects of doing public stuff; so maybe my nervous aversion to doing things in public has become a thing of the past? Worth a try, at any rate, right?

I also need to work on the procrastination thing I’ve been dealing with for the majority of my life. Why do I always feel the need to wait until the last minute for everything? Why will I always goof off now instead of doing the things I need to do so I can goof off later? This would always immediately play into my anxiety, and always made my stress levels go off the charts. Was that what drove me to get so much done? Stress and anxiety and the pressure I used to put on myself? Will I be able to get as much done in the future now that the anxiety is medically handled? It does make me a bit worried, but I am sure I’ll get back on that horse when I need to.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again later, most likely.

Sleigh Bell Rock

Friday morning and I have PT again this morning, before I run a few errands and come home to do my work at home duties for the week. I slept well again last night, and yesterday was another stress and anxiety-free day, which was marvelous. I wish I’d known years ago what medications I really needed, rather than the stuff that just dealt with some of the symptoms but not the actual problem; so those medications didn’t work as well as the ones I am now on. It was also my first week back to work after medical leave, and so it was a bit much, I think; I was exhausted every night when I got home from work and you can tell by how the housework, especially in the kitchen, has slipped out of control–I haven’t had the energy since before the surgery to really do much clean up around here. The dishes have been hardest to keep up with, so I have a load in the dishwasher and another load in the sink. Today is also bed linens laundry day, and there’s other laundry I need to take care of before I can start that project. But I am also getting deep and restful sleep, and whatever that bug was that I had last weekend seems to have finally been taken care of by my immune system–sing hallelujah! I am behind on almost everything, so I have to stay motivated this weekend to get caught up. I have to take the car in for an oil change tomorrow morning, which means shopping on the West Bank and either Five Guys or Sonic for lunch. Yay! Although I have to admit, since the surgery and getting the new teeth, my tastes seem to be changing?

While there is something soothing about a routine and being able to do things without much thought because I do them the same way all the time…but it’s also nice to step out of that comfort zone and do different things. One of the things I’ve noticed is the structure of going back to work has got my eating back on schedule, and I wake up hungry every morning, which is a new development. I’d planned on going to bed early last night so I could take advantage of an extra hour of sleep this morning, but I lost track of time somehow and it was almost eleven before I went to bed. Sunday morning I’ll be a lag-a-bed, since I have to get up for the oil change tomorrow morning. Monday is my next PT, and then next Friday I have an appointment with my surgeon to get the stitches taken care of (and hopefully lose the brace completely) right before a four day weekend. The week between Christmas and New Year’s is generally very slow around the office….and I have to remember to make a red velvet cheesecake for the potluck on Thursday. Sigh.

Paul was late getting home, so I watched the first three episodes of Ultimate Girls’ Trip: RHONY Legacy, and I know these women are awful (Ramona Singer), but they are so entertaining in their obliviousness and delusions that it is fun to watch, all the while knowing that watching them is rewarding them, and encouraging Peacock and Bravo to show us more of them. But I think Ramona is off the board now for the future, and she’s the worst of them (on and off the show). But anyway, it was an enjoyable way to turn off my brain for a few hours while Sparky was using his mutant purring power to relax me while sleeping in my lap. (Sparky’s “everything is a toy” mentality hasn’t helped much with the apartment; things are all over the floor everywhere, and all of my good, favorite pens are now missing. Note to self: buy more good pens and keep them put away.) 

And tonight….the new season of Reacher. I cannot wait.

So, I do feel better. The world is burning down, but I can’t let the state of the world affect me because I have no control over any of that; but I’ve felt so beaten down and defeated and overly stressed now for so long that I’ve allowed the negativity of the world seep into how I look at things in my personal life–looking at them in a negative way rather than a positive way, which is a terrible way to waste away life. There are a shit ton of positives in my life, and how I view my life and everything I have going for me is under my control. Why let the world’s and society’s negativity ruin my life? I have great friends, two jobs that I really love and enjoy, and I am doing the best writing of my life so far. Is it really that difficult to see bad things that might pop up here and there as a challenge to overcome rather than a depressing derailment of everything? Adaptability to change and the strength (mental, emotional, and physical) to overcome obstacles is the best way to handle life, really. I don’t want to waste another minute of life getting depressed or down over things I can’t control, and ducking them (avoidance) isn’t healthy, either–get it over and done with and out of the way instead of pushing it off to deal with later…which just means postponement, and there’s never been a single time in my life when I put off dealing with something and it worked out for the better.

Yes, I am feeling very zen this morning, and that’s not a bad thing, ever.

And on that note, I need to get ready for PT this morning, so I am going to bring this to a close. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back later most likely.

You Got Lucky

It’s a gray Friday morning here in the Lost Apartment and I might need to turn on a light–that’s how gray it is this morning. I was also a lag-a-bed and didn’t get up until after eight; not sure what that was about but the bed was incredibly comfortable. I also forgot to turn the heat off last night before I went to bed…and that kind of was a smart thing to do as I am not shivering this morning as I sit here. The brace still makes typing awkward, but I’m getting more used to it, or something.

Yesterday was my first real day of physical therapy; the first was clearly simply an assessment, and yesterday the actual therapy started. It was almost an hour, and it was all mostly dexterity movement with my hand and fingers, as well as working on squeezing and flexing, and some little forearm curls with a two pound weight. I ran errands after, including making groceries and getting the mail. I was exhausted. I wrote some emails and then did my book reports on two of the three books I read recently (I still have one more to do, on the Donna Andrews Christmas murder mystery), and when I was done with that…I was done. I was so fatigued I couldn’t even read very far into my next read (Raquel V. Reyes’ Calypso, Corpses, and Cooking, an absolutely delightful cozy series set in a small town within Miami–check the series out if you’ve not yet), and wound up watching an episode of Moonlighting and my standard go-to; documentaries about history on Youtube, and episodes of Real Housewives (I am currently watching Salt Lake City and Beverly Hills), and then Paul came home later and we started watching The Curse, an odd show with Emma Stone and Nathan Fielder; per Showtime the series explores “how an alleged curse disturbs the relationship of a newly married couple as they try to conceive a child while co-starring on their problematic new HGTV show, Flipanthropy.” I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be funny when we started watching–I did laugh a few times, but it’s also one of those “cringe comedy” shows where you’re kind of embarrassed and mortified for the characters’ behavior so you don’t feel comfortable laughing? But now that I know it’s supposed to be funny (laughing with instead of at)…I really shouldn’t go into shows blind anymore because I am too literal-minded. I’m hoping to get a lot done today around the house; I feel very rested this morning and I guess we’ll have to see how long that lasts, and how long before my energy flags. This week I’ve felt more myself than I have since the surgery–clear-headed and so forth–so I am hoping that’s a sign that I am slowly getting back to normal.

I’m also hoping to watch Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny this weekend. Hoping it ranks with the first and third movies in the series and not the second and fourth.

The construction work around the apartment seems to be finished; they reinforced the patio deck overhang (which is over our front steps) with steel and removed that horrible long wooden plank that was supporting it for like the last twelve years, which was ugly and annoying and in the way–and not particularly effective, either. The kitchen ceiling is repaired, and now all we need is to have the plasterboard painted and the ceiling fan rehung, which I’m hoping can be done after I go back to work Tuesday. I like our construction guys–super-friendly and nice, and very good at their jobs; they are also going to reinforce our living room floor, which is getting soft in places; also incredibly thoughtful and considerate of me being home while they were working on the place–apologizing for noise, checking to make sure I was okay (they asked about the arm brace and I had to explain, after which they became incredibly solicitous, which I never–no offense–expect from straight men), keeping me updated on progress and so forth. They even told me everything they’re going to be doing around the house for the next few months, which is great; I’d kind of gotten used to never being told anything by workers and having to work around them over the years.

The kitchen is also a mess and needs to be straightened up some; I need to empty the dishwasher, do another load, and get started on the bed linens (it’s FRIDAY! Laundry day!). Tomorrow I’ll run some errands; I am not going to make groceries again until Monday, since I have PT that morning and have to go uptown anyway. Tuesday I get to go back to the office, which will be interesting. I’d of course hoped I’d be able to get a lot more accomplished and done during my time out of the office, but…that proved to be overly optimistic. I am recovering quickly–everyone is amazed, at PT and the doctors–but even my recovery wasn’t as quick and easy as I had hoped. I tire easily–gee, it’s not like my body is recovering from a MASSIVE TRAUMA or anything–so I’ll be curious to see how things go when I return to work.

I also have Christmas cards to do, too, which should be interesting. I actually have the cards already and the stamps; I ordered some gorgeous Louisiana Christmas cards from a local photographer, and a box of funny ones on-line; I also ordered Mississippi River stamps, which will be super fun to use. I always put doing the cards off, then lose track of time until it’s too late, and then just think well it’s the thought that counts. This year, however, I am ahead of the game–everything was ordered and has been here since well before Thanksgiving, so if I don’t do it this year I literally have no excuse. Maybe this weekend; it’s something I can do while sitting in my easy chair.

And Sparky is really making himself at home. I am so happy we got his energetic hyperactive little fuzzy butt. He’s getting so big, and he’s so smart and determined. He now open the bathroom door (so we can’t shut him up in there anymore) and he literally climbs drawers now to get to the kitchen counters or on top of the dressers–he actually looks like he’s scaling a rock cliff as he climbs the drawers, and it’s hard to get aggravated at him for doing it because it’s so smart of him to have figured that out. He’s very determined, and he’s also starting to answer (or at least react) when we say his name. I also call him Boop sometimes; it’s hard to get out of the habit of calling the cat “Boot” (nickname for Scooter we used more than his real name) but I managed to start saying “boop” instead, and he likes that and answers to it. He still prefers boxes and bottle caps to any toys we’ve gotten him, but I would like to get one of those toys that entertains them for hours…but then I think but what if he doesn’t care about it and ignores it?

Always an issue with a cat.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I’ll check back in later.

Heartbreaker

Work at home Friday and a good night’s sleep. I did have to get up just before six to feed Tug, but went back to bed for a very cozy hour or so of additional napping on top of the sleep. It felt marvelous, and I feel actually very rested and good this morning, which is always a lovely surprise. I have work-at-home duties to get taken care of and errands to run later when I am finished with them, and then I am going to just rest and relax and read and try to write and edit and clean and organize all weekend. Monday is pre-surgery prep day, and then of course I go under the scalpel on Tuesday (don’t know what time yet). As of today I have to stop taking some of my medications and vitamins to get them out of my system by Tuesday–so really, prep work is beginning today, really. I am also still adjusting to my new teeth. I kind of laughed as I got ready for bed last night–as I took out my teeth, my hearing aids, and removed my glasses; when I am bed I can’t see, hear or talk; I definitely have mush-mouth when I take the teeth out.

I came directly home after work last night; I had to stay later than I usually do because I had to take a longer lunch on Wednesday to drive out to Jefferson Highway to get the teeth. It was already dark when I got home, and Tug of course had wreaked destruction on the workspace during the day–which is yet another reminder of how I have to a) not let the filing pile up anymore and b) might need to reorganize the workspace to limit Big Kitten Energy destruction and/or mess. That could be a very good project for this weekend. LSU is playing Georgia State Saturday night (big deal, right?) and I am not even sure the game is going to even be televised, frankly, or if it is, it’s probably one of those minor SEC network “plus” channels I always have to figure out how to get every single time (it’s an on-going thing with the LSU gymnastics meets), and even glancing over the schedule this weekend there’s really not much of anything, other than Georgia-Tennessee and Kansas-Kansas State; all the big rivalry games are next weekend, so this is kind of a lull weekend before the Thanksgiving weekend extravaganza, which hopefully I won’t be too zonked out on medications to enjoy. I was thinking I might try to make pulled turkey in the slow cooker for Thanksgiving, but I wouldn’t be able to pull it apart. I’m not really sure what our food situation is going to be, in all honesty, until after I am off the painkillers. I’ll have to put some thought into that and make groceries at some point before Tuesday. I know we have things in the freezer that can be thawed out and/or cooked; but it also wouldn’t hurt to have other options available, either.

I got caught up on my reality television shows last night–Real Housewives continue to have this weird hold on my interest and imagination which I can’t really explain; particularly because these women generally are examples of everything I think is wrong with American culture and society–and then got sucked into some more Youtube documentaries about the fall of Rome, the war between Rome and the Gauls, and more about the schism between the Catholic and Orthodox churches–the original split of Christianity and dogma. My fascination with the Eastern Roman Empire continues unabated, as well as my interest in the Hapsburgs and the sixteenth century (I am loving The Rival Queens, my current non-fiction read, and need to read more Nancy Goldstone histories). I also want to finish reading Lou Berney’s Dark Ride this weekend, and get started on my next read before the surgery. I also need to remember to keep hitting save as Tug keeps waltzing over my keyboard and wreaking havoc on my screen. I do feel hopeful that the time out from the office will give me time to do more reading and writing and start working my way out from under everything; one can always hope. It can get overwhelming sometimes just thinking about everything I need to do and get done.

I was also thinking the other day about how I always say I “compartmentalize” my life and my personal history..and wondering if the word I should be using when I say that is “repress”; because isn’t that what you’re doing when you are deliberately trying not to think about your past and things you’ve experienced? Especially when those events can be traumatic? Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but I also think setting personal boundaries for behavior you will and will not accept from friends and acquaintances is healthy. I am pretty easy-going, or at least deceive myself into believing that, because I have this insane and unhealthy need to be liked. As a general rule I tend to not get angry when people cross my boundaries. It takes a while for it to start to get to me, but when I am angry it’s because I care and the behavior has offended my sensibilities in some way. When you get to the point where the reaction you get is for me to go completely cold and stop caring? You’ll never come back from that with me. Once I stop caring, I stop caring–and if that hurts you, it isn’t my problem–because by that point you’ve crossed my boundaries so many times despite multiple warnings (narcissists never listen to warnings because no one would ever give up the AMAZING gift of their friendship–ha ha ha ha ha, Keep dreaming.), yet you continue to throw additional chances given back in my face.

Bye, Felicia.

And on that note, I am going to start getting some things done around here before I start my work for the day. Have a great Friday–and be warned there will probably be Blatant Self-Promotion to come.

Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous

As I was saying in my other blatant self-promotional post of today (for Mississippi River Mischief) I rather jokingly mentioned that perhaps my childhood fandom of celebrities like Cher, Bette Midler, Liza Minnelli, Katharine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Barbara Stanwyck was an early sign of my destiny as a gay man; and yes, I know that’s a stereotype but as I always say, “stereotypes have to start somewhere“–there’s occasionally some kernel of truth in a gay stereotype. (Example: Jack on Will & Grace got some grief for being a stereotype–but I’ve known any number of gay men who were very similar to Jack; imagine being told you’re a stereotype.)

RuPaul’s genius idea to kind of create a Project Runway and American Idol hybrid reality show started out very slow–it was on Logo, I believe, and the budget was incredibly bare bones that first season or two or three; part of the fun of the show was how much it looked like a cable-access do-it-yourself reality show. And as usual with any art form created by gay men, it was popular with gay men and straight women; the show slowly started building an audience and then WHAM! One day it seemed like drag had taken over the world.

Katya from RuPaul’s Drag Race, whom I find hilarious–and beautiful.

Paul and I lost interest in the show after the Bianca-Courtney-Adore season, because that season was so good we both felt that anything after that would be anti-climactic. I know there have been other good seasons and incredibly fierce queens since then, but we came back for All Stars Season 2 (when I became a fan of Katya, actually) and were bitterly disappointed at how scripted, staged, and unfair the entire season was to everyone who wasn’t Alaska, Detox, or Roxxy. And just like with Project Runway, once we saw a season that was clearly predetermined from the start, we stopped watching.

I have zero interest in watching a “competition” with a predetermined winner, which is kind of why I don’t watch WWE much anymore. (it’s also very cartoonish, but that’s a subject for another time.)

I know there are cisgender women who have issues with drag, and I know there are transwomen who do as well; I think the transwomen’s issues primarily have to do with the conflation between the two–which was clearly prescient, given the rise of the raw sewage known as LibsofTikTok and “Moms4Liberty” (how’d that election go for you on Tuesday, you miserable soulless contemptible bigoted shrews? CRY MORE BITCHES, your tears are like Mimosas to us gays), who see no difference (because the harpies are as ignorant and uneducated as they are bitter, soulless, and unChristian). I’ve never seen a lot of criticism for drag from the straight cisgender women as a general rule, but I know there are concerns and critiques from the feminist community, which I do not dismiss or take lightly.

But since the primary straight cisgender woman who used to scream at me about the “misogyny of drag” also has turned out to be a sociopathic TERF who is dead to me (shocker, I know; a feminist who hates drag is a bigoted disgusting piece of shit TERF? Who could have seen that coming?), I don’t necessarily take those feminist critiques as seriously as I used to. If your feminism is about cisgender white women only, go fuck yourself. (This is the same woman who claimed to be a gay ally because she loved going to gay bars where gay men made much of her…the irony that it was primarily because she acted like an over-the-top drag queen completely escaped her–but then, drag queens competed with her for attention in gay bars, and I’ve also come to recognize that the poor bitch is so fucking thirsty for attention that she probably needs intense therapy for at least a decade.)

I’ve always seen drag as a critique of the societal notions of what a woman is supposed to be; drag is that expectation taken over the top to the nth degree. This is why they have the exaggerated everything–from wigs to shoes to gowns to make-up to hip padding and fake boobs. (I also think that the reason drag kings never attained the same level of popularity and mainstreaming as the queens is because it’s harder to over-exaggerate masculinity; it’s not as easy to create the illusion of a thickly muscled body, a super-deep baritone voice, and thick body hair–and besides, who wants to watch women performing toxic masculinity? And as a general rule, men don’t wear make-up when they are cosplaying masculinity.) They’re also loud, funny, and crude–all the things women aren’t supposed to be in proper society–and when they are hyper-sexualized, it’s to make a point about the hyper-sexualizing of women by the dominant culture. Women aren’t supposed to have control of their bodies and sexuality; they aren’t supposed to be crude and crass and vulgar. They aren’t parodying women; they are parodying the cultural expectations (that still exist) for women by over-exaggerating everything and reflecting back to the overall societal culture about how we limit and control women.

I tried explaining this several times to my former friend, but she was also sociopathic in her narcissistic belief that she was never wrong. She was exhausting, frankly, and when I cut her out of my life like the cancerous tumor she was, it was amazing how much better I felt knowing I would never see any of her ignorant bigotry anywhere on my social media ever again, and sorry–you come for transpeople, you’re coming for all of us.

Keep your conditional allyship, bitch.

It’s called intersectionality, use the Google.

And yes, there are misogynistic gay men and drag queens. Some of the common language of drag is misogynist; “fishy” and so forth are questionable–but again, it plays into that critique of societal feminine archetypes; women would never talk about themselves that way and would be furious if a straight man did; so why is it okay for gay men and drag queens to do so? It’s not really; but if you’re going to come for drag with honest concerns about misogynist anti-woman language, that’s one thing; when you come for the entire community because of it, fuck you with a cheese grater.

So, part of the reason I wrote Death Drop was for the same reasons I write y/a about rape culture and homophobia and racism; to put a human face on an issue that might help the reader develop more empathy about the subject than they may have felt before reading my book. Death Drop is not going to convince drag-haters or TERFs that their beliefs and values are trash and they need to rethink and reevaluate; but maybe, just maybe, someone who doesn’t know much about the subject and the issues around it might learn something.

That may be hubris, but you can’t be a writer without some level of hubris in your personality.

So, feel free to click on this link and order several copies! They make great gifts for homophobes, and Christmas is coming!

Mickey

Friday morning work-at-home blog, and the weather is supposed to get more back to normal for this time of year—highs during the day anywhere from the lower 70s to the mid 80s, dropping to the 60’s at night. It makes it even harder to get out of bed in the chill of the morning–and my blankets are incredibly warm and comfortable, as is the bed. But li’l Tug expects to get fed every morning around six (and is more than happy to let me know six is nigh by leaping over Paul and landing on me, before curling up next to my head while waiting patiently for me to get up and feed him and give him fresh water), which is going to make the time change this weekend a bit irritating. I also hate going to work and coming home in the dark, which is also soul-destroying because you feel like you’ve lost the entire day at the office.

But I slept well last night and let myself go back to sleep after the daily six a.m. feed-me Tug attack, which felt great. There’s a mail run to do and Tug’s first vet visit to fit into the day, and we’re going to Costco after I finish my work at home chores later. The constant, on-going kitten-proofing of the apartment can also prove challenging because you never know what’s going to catch his inquisitive must-play-with-that eye, and he is very curious and adventurous about anything. Cabinets can’t be left open. He’ll climb into the dishwasher as I am loading it–but no curiosity about the dryer yet. He’s also fascinated by water, like Skittle was–but the shower was uninteresting to him; not the case with Tug. He’ll tightrope around the rim of the tub while I’m showering and also walk between the shower curtain and the liner. He’s adorable and completely in charge around here, if you haven’t figured that out yet.

And I love having a purring kitty donut sleeping in my lap while I watch television or read.

Last night we watched this week’s The Morning Show, which absolutely felt like a season finale; I’m not sure if it was or not but it felt like it. I wasn’t super-tired when I got home, but Tug was especially needy so I repaired to my easy chair where I watched this week’s Real Housewives of Beverly Hills–which was kind of dull; but the fun of watching these shows is watching and reading the reactions of the fans and the recaps and so forth. I was thinking yesterday that these shows create community within their fans, as people want to talk about the cast and what’s going on with them, happily judging their lives, their behavior, their clothes, their make-up, their hair, their homes and their families. I was thinking this was unique to reality shows–remembering how everyone used to talk about Survivor and The Bachelor and American Idol back in the day, similar to how soaps would have group watches on campus where everyone talked about the storylines and the characters and their interactions. But we also did that with Glee and Lost and Desperate Housewives and various other shows. I do wonder what is it about film and television that drives people with the urge and need to talk about it with other people?

Then again, I always wanted to talk about books with other people–so I guess I can get it.

I was realizing the other day that this year in December will mark nineteen years of this blog–first on Livejournal and then moved here when I’d finally had enough of the Russian propaganda and spam over there–which is a longer commitment than most straight relationships and marriages, which is an interesting way to look at it. I started keeping it around Christmas of 2004, while we were still living in the carriage house–we wouldn’t move into the main house until June or July 2005; only to be moved back into the carriage house by Hurricane Katrina later that year. It’s also hard to believe sometimes that Katrina–and the Incident with Paul–was so long ago now; just like the Virginia Incident was a long time ago. Time inevitably passes, and just going through your every day routine living your life as best you can one morning you realize a lot of time has passed. The pandemic shutdown was almost four years ago, for fuck’s sake. We are now in year three going on year four of the COVID-19 pandemic, although no one really talks about it anymore. I am going to write about that whole experience at some point–there are at least three more Scotty books I want and/or need to write, which will take New Orleans through the cursed Carnival of 2020 (and the Hard Rock hotel collapse) and the shutdown and then afterwards. I think that’s been part of the creative malaise lately; knowing that the Scotty series, about to debut its ninth volume, is finally winding down. There are a lot of things I’ve wanted to avoid with these books but with the series continually going, I don’t have a choice. Scotty’s grandparents are all in their nineties by now–so death is going to have to come to the family. On the page or off the page? I do think it might be interesting to explore the Bradley side of the family a bit more; perhaps the death of the Bradley grandparents and a struggle over the will or something could be the basis for a book; perhaps COVID-19 might claim them, I don’t know. But I know I’ve not written about the shutdown or the pandemic, and it feels kind of cowardly to not address it in fiction yet.

Maybe I should finish that pandemic short story I started, “The Flagellants.”

I’m also thinking about getting blinds for the kitchen windows at long last; a do-it-yourself project I think I can handle.

And on that note, I’m getting another cup of coffee and heading into the spice mines. Y’all have a great Friday, and I’ll be back later with more blatant self-promotion.