Category: research

He Thinks I Still Care

Yesterday didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, but low energy is sometimes completely unpredictable. I ran my errands yesterday–mail, prescriptions, groceries–and by the time I got home I was very tired, to the point I didn’t even finish putting the dry goods away from Costco on Friday (yes, there is a Costco-sized package of paper towels sitting on the living room floor, where it’s been since I tossed it over there on Friday). Instead, I collapsed into my easy chair and started watching games. First I watched Florida beat Mississippi State (how bad are the Bulldogs this season?), then the LSU-UCLA, the end of Vanderbilt-Missouri (probably the best game of the day) and at the end of it all got to watch Tennessee dominate Oklahoma for most of the 25-15 game before turning it off to go to bed as the sleepiness took over. LSU struggled with UCLA in the first half to a 17-17 half-time score, but went on to win it 34-17. The defense still looks iffy, the offense is starting to really gel, and they always seem to never really be into the game in the first half. There was a lot of sloppy play in the game, and I also do think LSU was the better team…but they just never seem game ready when the game actually starts. Both offense and defense looked better in the second half to me, but that is alarmingly reminiscent of the last two seasons….and historically, LSU always plays not as well in the first half. We’ll see how that goes in a few weeks when Mississippi comes to Baton Rouge. The Saints play at noon today, too–which is probably when I am going to make groceries today; it’s always best to do it in the ghost town New Orleans becomes during Saints games. I’ll have it on and probably won’t watch, as I still get too vested in Saints games.

My mind was too fatigued yesterday for me to process trying to read anything (although I did finally read that Advocate piece on jockstraps and their history, so I can possibly write that essay at some point; it also occurs to me this morning that maybe I should try outlining my essays, figuring out what I actually want to say rather than ad-libbing these essays that I post. I am very behind on them now–especially when it comes to writing up books I’ve read–and maybe, just maybe, outlining the points I want to make and the information that led to the coming up with those points and defending them might not be a bad idea. I do enjoy freeform writing–that’s what this blog actually is, isn’t it?–but it’s probably not the best for long form personal essays. I’m always learning, aren’t it?

My copy of Julia Dahl’s I Dream of Falling arrived yesterday, emphasizing further the need for me to get back to reading. I have way too many great books to read on deck, and not reading every day is a mistake. I should come home from work every day, put my stuff down, feed Sparky, change into more comfortable clothes, and read for an hour. There are good games on next weekend, but nothing to take me away from doing things (LSU plays South Alabama, and it will most likely not be televised), so next weekend should be a good time for me to get reading. The following weekend is a bye, so…the next two weekends should be more productive than the usual weekend in fall.

I did, however, do some thinking about the next chapter of the Scotty book, and I think I need to reread the previous, already written chapters. I also want to mark up Scotty books–I was incorrect, Garden District Gothic was never marked up–so that I can start transcribing and getting everything organized. So, I need to get this done with the last three and transcribe the mark-ups from Jackson Square Jazz, too, which I can do during the Saints game if I so choose. I want to do some cooking today, too–things for the week for lunch, healthy snacks (making a salad to eat from over the week; roasting Brussels sprouts, and making chicken salad)–and I need to get some filing done, at least out of my inbox, which has been a royal mess for quite some time. I also need to look at deadlines and so forth, and plan some short story writing time as well, and take some time today to at least start that next chapter. I also found some great inspirational pictures for a short story I am writing; one can never go wrong with bayou and swamp pictures, seriously. Maybe the LSU bye weekend I can drive out to the Manchac Swamp and LaPlace and take a look around so I have a better idea of how to write that story. It’s very lengthy already–focuses on desire for a gay college student for his straight best friend (does this still happen?)–but the ending has to not be rushed as it is now, and just as layered and complex as the opening of the story; right now the story feels like it’s front-loaded with a lot of set-up than BANG! It’s almost over instantly. So much work to get done…

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. The dishes aren’t going to do themselves and that food isn’t going to prepare itself and the filing won’t put itself away, either. I hope you have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and if I get some of those entries done, I’ll be back later. Otherwise, till tomorrow morning, adieu.

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Back Home Again

It is very lovely to be here at my desk this morning, with my coffee and Sparky begging for more food, knowing I don’t have to go into the office today. The work-at-home duties today are tedious, but hopefully they will make that time go back more quickly. I was very tired yesterday–I felt great in the morning, but as the day started to pass by I felt fatigue settling in and a feeling of not feeling terribly motivated, which is shameful, so when I got home last night I made myself transcribe the notes from three Scotty volumes into the Bible, and I only have maybe four or five left to go? Light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, quite frankly, and of course once it’s completed it’ll have to be updated. I have lots of errands to run later, after I finish my work-at-home duties, including a Costco run, which will probably wear me out a bit the way it always does.

We started watching Monsters, about the Menendez Brothers, and I’m not entirely sure we’ll continue to watch. I know the story fairly well, even if I may have forgotten a lot of it, because I followed the story as it happened. I also read all of Dominick Dunne’s columns in Vanity Fair back in the day–it was my favorite part of the issue, every month–so..it didn’t really engage me all that much. American Sports Story is kind of on deck (along with Agatha All Along), and there are some other things I’d like to watch dropping either soon, or have already, too. And of course it’s a football weekend; LSU-UCLA being the marquee game of the afternoon. There was also a lot of insane news breaking yesterday–not the least of which was that North Carolina jackass hate-monger’s exposure as a porn addict and a real insane freaky man. It’s exhausting. I’ve also taken the Bluesky/Threads methodology of “block at first sign of annoyance” to Facebook1. It’s much easier to block people than to indulge their idiocies and passive micro-aggressions. For the record, the people that think we shouldn’t allow politics to interfere with relationships? Tell me you’re a straight white cisgender person without saying the fucking words. Fuck you and all your descendants, now and forever, for all eternity. And I don’t owe anyone my friendship or affection, thank you very much.

I do have some plans for the weekend–around the games, of course (Saints at noon on Sunday)–I am going to have to make groceries again this weekend, and the apartment is a disaster area (but not as bad as usual on a Friday morning); I have dishes and filing to do, and of course there’s always laundry. I’m a little worn down this morning, but I’m hoping that will change once I’ve had more coffee and eaten something. The Internet is also out for some reason–this has been happening a lot ever since Francine; it’s annoying as fuck. I’m using my phone as a hotspot so far this morning and I’m really sick of Cox’ incredibly shitty service, which is getting less and less reliable. Every time I think maybe I should ditch the streaming and go back to regular cable, something like this reminds me why I’d really not have all eggs in Cox’ fucking basket.

Ah, remember the extolling virtues of the Internet and streaming back when it was first getting started, about how much better our lives would be now? As always, no one ever answered my questions of how reliable will it be? My personal favorite is everything you have to do with Cox pretty much requires an Internet connection…how can you reset your modem on-line when you can’t get on-line? All the instructions and so forth are on their website, and yes, sure, I can do it all on my phone but I shouldn’t have to. Bastards, really.

Wow, this is not only dull, but taking a really long time for me to get finished and posted. I must be running on accessory this morning, with my energy levels not quite reaching optimization. Man, I was tired when I got home last night–I stopped to get the mail and a few things at the grocery on the way home and didn’t even finish putting everything away, let alone finishing the dishes or doing anything else. Heavy sigh, but probably will get going once I have something to eat. I did eat jelly beans last night (yes, I succumbed to their allure while at the grocery last night) so maybe it’s a sugar crash. It’s possible, and i really do need to stop eating (and bingeing) jelly beans.

I did make a to-do list yesterday, and I need to make a Costco one today. I also need to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines, so I’ll bring this dullness to a close and get going with my work-at-home day. Till I return again, adieu.

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  1. Blockity blockity block block. If you annoy me once, you’ll probably do so more times and each offense is progressively worse than the last, always. Bitch, bye. ↩︎

Ride ’em Cowboy

Well, here we are on Wednesday morning, and I’m awake and feeling okay, if a bit on the sneezy side. My coffee is wonderful and delightfully tasty. The humidity and heat aren’t as bad as they have been, which I am hoping means we are easing into fall–summer is over “officially” on the 21st, which is of course next week, but New Orleans weather doesn’t really follow the calendar three-months per season the way that weather does further north from here. I don’t mind the cooler weather (fall and spring are spectacular here), but we get a bit chilly here in the winter and am always grateful it doesn’t really last very long. It’ll probably snow this year/

I had a nice day at work yesterday, fairly productive all along and managed to get shit done, which is always a plus. I came straight home from work, fed His Majesty and wrote for awhile before collapsing into my chair for Sparky cuddle time, which is lasting longer and longer these days, with fewer moments of him turning into Apex Predator Attack Cat. He really is a dear, and I don’t mind the “attack cat” mode because he’s so cute, and I love it when he pounces because he always seems so proud of himself when he does. And is there anything like having a cat cuddled up to you, sleeping soundly, secure and safe? I do worry that he doesn’t seem to purr all that much–he usually only does when he’s feeling super-needy, or when he’s riding on my shoulders. He does love it up there.

Yeah, I am a childless cat dad for the Vice-President, and fucking proud of it.

I also managed to get 1600 words done last night fairly easily, which was nice, so I am now done with the transitional Chapter 5, which is an enormous relief and also nice to know I can take some down time whenever there’s some kind of interruption (hurricane, in this case) and get back into the book. I think working on the Bible when I couldn’t wrap my head around writing the book was a definite help and kept my head in the game. It’s kind of funny, really. I try to write 3000 words per day (on a writing day; I don’t work on the book every day), and it always seems like the first thousand takes so much longer than the last two, you know? It’s like pulling teeth, but once I get to a thousand, it gets easier. The last thousand is always the easiest, somehow, which is cool. I’d hoped to have the first draft finished by the end of the month, but that is certainly not going to happen. But again–no deadline, which is kind of heavenly, and I kind of like the lack of pressure. It all needs to be revised and rewritten, of course, but I know I am writing some sentences that are making me very pleased with myself–something I am embracing with both arms wide, frankly. My self-doubt and lack of faith in myself has been incredibly self-defeating, so I’ve decided to work on that as well. I don’t want to become an egomaniac, of course, but I also need to stop believing or anticipating criticism and trying to head it off by saying it about myself first. I don’t like every book I’ve read and there are definitely authors I will never read again, so it stands to reason that that would be true about me and my books for some people, and it’s okay for them to feel that way. I appreciate good criticism, the kind that makes me look at it from a different perspective and determine whether I accept said criticism or not; what I don’t appreciate is slams for being too gay or too political or not gay enough or not political enough; you cannot please everyone who reads your work, and you’ll go mad trying to do that, as it’s impossible. I also need to understand that I have no control over my sales, and low sales doesn’t mean the book isn’t any good nor is the writing (two of my favorite books of my own–for personal reasons–are also my two lowest selling, and some of the ones I am super proud of aren’t my biggest sellers, either). Part of the problem, of course, is my anxiety-based fear of not being liked–which comes from years of betrayals by people I thought were friends (but they weren’t) and my own naïveté; I always take people at face value and forget that people wear masks to fool others into thinking they’re decent human beings. I’m always afraid I am going to be ganged up on by bullies similar to the ones who made teens so fucking miserable, that I’ll be ostracized by a friend group because I’ve never really gotten over that first betrayal. But while I do think that fear is valid–it was definitely earned, for sure–it’s something I need to work through on my own and conquer. I don’t trust as easily as I used to, but I’ve become keenly aware over the years that just because someone seems nice and fun doesn’t mean they actually are.

But…I’ve often been amazed when people I really dislike considers me a friend. I may be polite, but if I never actually laugh or make a joke when I’m talking to you–I don’t like you.

And if you have a single bigoted thought in your head that is rooted in race, gender, or sexuality–you can be sure I don’t like you.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again either later or tomorrow morning.

Sweet Surrender

Well, we survived. I can’t speak for the rest of the city or state, but we managed to even maintain our Lower Garden District hurricane privilege and didn’t lose either power or cell service. I know there was a lot of flooding in the city, and a lot of power outages. Our office is closed this morning–no power and street flooding–so I have another day at home today (I will definitely be going into the office tomorrow), which is nice, even if I had to get up at my usual go-to-work alarm time to be sure.

I don’t know if our street flooded, but I didn’t want to go out and look last night once the eye wall had mostly passed. I went to bed and slept through the last three or four hours of the storm. But even before I went to bed, I couldn’t hear most of the wind gusts until right before I went to bed. I could see tree limbs and lots of leaves shining wetly in the light of the outside lamp, and chose not to brave going out into it; some things are best left unpacked once the tension is released the morning after. There were still some tropical pockets left to pass when I went to bed last night, but none of it had rain and it was mostly wind gusts that would peter out the more time passed. But…I did get a lot of impressions for the book, so that was a good thing. Everything is material, after all, and this storm reminded me exactly of how the hurricane timeline works–as well as the reminder that it’s never the same, so I don’t really need to worry so much about that part.

I wrote a lot in my head yesterday. I hope I remember it all.

I just hope my car is okay, which I will go check on once I finish this and am more awake.

So yesterday was one of those tense days where you wait, watching weather reports to see where the storm is now and wondering, hoping, that you don’t lose power or get wind damage or anything. We were lucky again–that Lower Garden District privilege working once more–so we were able to stay up-to-date all day while luxuriating in our climate controlled apartment while watching television and basically–outside of the tension and nerves–a free day to stay home (which is again today).

We binged The Perfect Couple on Hulu, which is quite interesting and kind of escapist rich people drama murder fun, like Big Little Lies. Nicole Kidman is terrific (although her fabulous life as a wealthy and successful crime novel “who keeps cranking them out because they need the money” is why people think all crime writers are rich, because that’s all you ever see in movies and television; no one wants to read about mid-list authors, other than Ben Mears in ‘salem’s Lot) and, frankly, so is everyone else in the cast. The plot is interesting, more so because of how it’s structured, going back and forth in time to before and after the murder. We have only one episode left, and we also got caught up on Bad Monkey, too.

I bit the bullet and just walked out to the car. Our path is covered in leaves and branches, and so is the street; it’s also in the sixties out there right now which felt marvelous. But the street didn’t flood (filled with branches and other assorted debris), and my car is also fine, so we made it through this with little more than inconvenience, really. I went ahead and checked the inside to be sure the mats weren’t either wet or damp, and the car started right up without a problem. Today does feel a bit anticlimactic. Francine wasn’t nearly as bad as Ida, but Ida was a bigger and more powerful storm. We lost power for Ida before she even made landfall, and that was a miserable experience. Ida was also terrifying. The wind gusts shook and rattled the entire house, the rain was torrential and the lightning and thunder were horrifying. I kind of decided after Ida that I’d never ride out anything more than a Category 2 going forward. We’ve been lucky since Ida, too.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up, get some more coffee, and get to work on some chores around here while also doing some reading. I’ll probably be back later, of course, and until then, have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later on.

World of Make Believe

I woke up reluctantly this morning to rain, which will be off and on all day, and probably getting worse as the day progresses. Okay, pretty much the same as yesterday. We were on the edge of the cone yesterday, and today we are just outside of it, expecting tropical storm conditions at worst for the moment when she gets here, and it’s going to be relatively nasty both tomorrow and Thursday morning. The whole thing should be over and past by Thursday afternoon. The models kept shifting yesterday; first we were outside, then inside, then back outside again. The agency hasn’t made any announcements yet, but I think I don’t want to drive in tropical storm conditions so might just take tomorrow off and ride this out at home.

The irony that I am writing a book set during tropical weather has not escaped me. I really didn’t need a reminder of riding out a storm.

I am also seeing recommendations that everyone stay home Wednesday and Thursday, and little as I want to use my paid time off to not go into the office, I think my own personal safety and that of my car is more important than my job. Of course, we are completely unprepared–no bread, and probably won’t be able to get any at this point as people have probably already lost their minds about the storm. I still have a case of water from last year’s salt intrusion in the Mississippi, so we’re at least ahead on that score, and of course, we have a lot of candles. God, I hope we don’t lose power. We won’t lose much food, thank heavens, because I’ve been trying to use up everything in the house in order to combat my food anxiety (from being poor in my younger years) and not have a fully stocked house filled with food I never get around to eating.

Yesterday was a low energy day; I managed to get all my work done at the office but was dragging by the time I came home. I didn’t do any writing when I got home, but we watched The Deliverance last night, which was really interesting. It’s based on a true story, apparently, which makes it even more interesting, and the acting was phenomenal. I love urban horror–it’s so much more creepy when horror is set in an urban area, where the suspension of belief is even harder to pull off. A remote creepy big house in the middle of nowhere? Easy to go down that path than to think the house at the end of the block or across the street is haunted, you know? I’ve always wanted to write a great ghost story set in New Orleans.

Also, This Fresh Hell, an anthology I contributed a story to last year, has been short-listed for the Ditmer award for Best Collection! That’s exciting, and I am delighted for the editors. The story I contributed, “Solace in a Dying Hour,” is one of my personal favorites, and is one of my few Louisiana stories that isn’t set in New Orleans. That’s also a story I wrote post-pandemic, and so I guess I have been doing good work since the world shut down four years ago, but it was such a completely miserable time that it seems like I didn’t really write anything good. I also didn’t get as much work done as per my usual, which was a part of the entire self-recrimination thing. I’ve also realized, going through these old Scotty books, that I’ve always considered the ones after the first three as different from the first three. And they are, in many ways, but as always, rather than thinking it through I just thought I wasn’t doing as good of work on that series…but in thinking it through, I realized that mentally it’s like two different series; because there were the first three over four years, and changed publishers with it, starting it again about three or four years after the third came out. By the time I wrote another Scotty, things were different. Publishing had changed. There really weren’t ebooks when the first three came out. Working on the first three was a matter of getting corrected manuscripts in the mail, fixing everything, and then sending them another two copies of the corrected manuscript, and on and on. By the time I wrote Vieux Carre Voodoo, everything was being done electronically, and thus could move a lot faster than the olden days. It’s not that I worked harder on the earlier ones, but it was harder to publish and edit the old way, and time-consuming. And since that was the way I learned how to revise and rewrite and make corrections, in my mind I defaulted to this is the way it’s supposed to be done and I’ve never gotten comfortable with the new way, even if 90% of my books were done that way.

And the clinic is closed for the storm tomorrow. We don’t have bread, and it’s probably impossible to find any now…but we do have crackers. And protein shakes. And lots of soda.

I hope we don’t lose power.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, and everyone in the path, stay safe!

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If You Talk In Your Sleep

Well, here we are in the cone of uncertainty for a tropical storm that should be forming due south of Louisiana in the Gulf, which should make for an interesting week, don’t you think? How things have changed since I posted my blog yesterday morning… I imagine we’ll be hearing about contingency plans today at the office.

Sigh. Wednesday is also Pay the Bills Day, which should make everything all the more interesting. According to the hurricane center, landfall should be around seven pm on Wednesday, so who knows? It might impact work on Thursday, too. And of course, I am writing about experiencing a Category 1 with this new Scotty, and this one will be a Category 1, too, if not stronger. Yay. Needless to say, we won’t be evacuating as this has come up a little too quickly; we’d have to get packing and on the road today, tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s no call for evacuation, so we should be okay. But…we may lose power, and that truly sucks. If the weather is going to be cool…it might be kind of nice, but I don’t think that’s going to be the case. Guess I’ll be getting that case of water down from the attic and tossing a few of them into the freezer. But there doesn’t seem to be much concern in the news or on the weather channels, so I am assuming it’s nothing to be terribly concerned or worried about. It’s 3’s and up that are the real problem…and of course, now that I’ve said that…

Since it’s a Monday, it’s back to the office with me this morning. I had a lovely, restful weekend, how about you? Yesterday was a really lovely day here. I overslept so was a bit off for the rest of the day, but the weather was gorgeous. I didn’t do a whole lot of anything, but one thing I did was start the Scotty Bible, going through the already post-it noted copy of Mardi Gras Mambo and getting some interesting (and necessary) information out of it (the first names of his grandparents and his dad; the street the Diderot mansion is on) that I needed, and I felt very accomplished getting that part of it done and it’s off to a start. It was also kind of nice revisiting the old book, something I wrote almost twenty years ago. I’d forgotten how insane the plot of this book actually was, and I’m kind of impressed that I managed to pull it off, especially given how many aborted starts I made on it. But I certainly picked the right back-list book to start compiling the Bible with; it had all the answers I needed for this one in it. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop doing it, mind you; I am planning on getting through one book per day (I already marked the places I need to get information from in the entire series, many years ago); today is Who Dat Whodunnit when I get home tonight. I’m also going to correct the chapters I’ve already written with the right names and places and so forth.

I ran an errand and the weather was stunningly beautiful–the 70s and cool; the breeze was nice and cool, a lovely change from it feeling like the air coming out of a floor vent in Minneapolis in January. I watched the Saints win, which was also lovely, and then I had a ZOOM call with some friends before settling in for the evening, where we got caught up with Bad Monkey and Only Murders in the Building.

So, all in all, a pleasant if lazy weekend here in the Lost Apartment, if not a particularly productive one. Which is also fine, you know. Weekends don’t have to be productive anymore.

It’ll be interesting to see how this storm–which is now projected to be a Category 2 when the eye comes ashore–is going to interrupt the week and my work. If we lose power, we have plenty of candles and things to drink, and I can catch up on my reading. Now that I’ve broken through my “reader’s block” and binged an entire novel in one sitting (Alison Gaylin’s We Are Watching, available now for preorders and being released in January), reading isn’t going to be as big an issue as it was. I am also making progress on getting through Rival Queens, and am revisiting some Ira Levin classics, preparatory to a longer essay for Substack about one of my favorite writers that I sadly forget about when asked about influences; Levin’s work had an influence on mine in some ways, but he was definitely a master. He wrote one of the greatest crime novels of all time (A Kiss Before Dying, which still amazes with its twists and turns and surprises), and three others that became part of the zeitgeist and had a lasting impact on our culture: Rosemary’s Baby, The Stepford Wives, and The Boys from Brazil. (I also want to reread “A Rose for Emily” this week, too.) I also haven’t reread Rebecca in quite some time, nor The Haunting of Hill House, either. I am going to be trying to read horror all month for Halloween again; I have some terrific horror novels collecting dust that I need to get around to, and Halloween Horror Month sounds like a great idea to me.

I also want to watch The Deliverance this week.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. It’ll be an interesting day, for sure, and maybe I’ll be back later. Stranger things have occurred.

Hang on Sloopy

Work at home Friday! I have a meeting at ten and then I get to do work-at-home duties for a few hours before I can end my work day and dive back into working on the book. I am having to be a bit more careful this time, as my memory isn’t as good as it used to be and I have been making this up as I go so far, so there are no notes for me to look at and think ah yes, the nurse’s name was this or Aunt Del’s second husband’s last name was NOT Alencon, so last night I reread the first four chapters of this masterpiece in progress and wasn’t disgusted, appalled and/or embarrassed at the terrible writing. (It is excruciatingly awful.) But I was writing down the names of the characters and who they are so I can start constructing back stories as well as who they are, and that will lead to more story and more characters. I also have to synopsize and outline those chapters as well…which also made me realize I have to look up the names of Scotty’s parents and grandparents, which means going through the books, which means…I should just start rereading them and pulling together the Scotty Bible at long last. That is my plan for this weekend; to work on pulling together information that is necessary out of the previous volumes and revising the current chapters. I am also really proud of myself for recognizing this work is necessary to make writing the rest easier and fix the mistakes in these early chapters.

I am also up way earlier than I need to be, but I woke up at six. Sparky actually was sleeping with me this morning when I woke up, which is progress on the cuddling front. I woke up at six, and was awake so figured might as well stay up if I am already, you know? My coffee is good and I am a little groggy, but taking a shower once I finish writing this will help with that, and I can get started on my work-at-home duties and be free earlier, which is really nice,..and I can use this afternoon to catch up on chores and get started on the Scotty Bible, which is cool and exciting. Should I be this excited to be writing another Scotty? I don’t know if it’s the writing Scotty that has me so high or if it’s just writing in general? I also don’t have a contract yet, so they may not even want it. But that’s not anything to worry about right now, either. I am just going to stay laser-focused on writing. The apartment isn’t that bad this morning, really. Tomorrow I have an eye appointment to get a new prescription so I can order new glasses, but other than that and college football, there’s really not much going on for us around here. I do want to watch The Deliverance this weekend. So many possibilities!

Our wretched governor this week asked LSU to start bringing Mike the Tiger back into the stadium for football games this season. I do love that tiger (I even made him the focal point of one of my Scotty books), he is stunningly beautiful, and I remember the year they decided to stop bringing Mike into the stadium. (This was the previous Mike.) The rule always was they wouldn’t sedate him and if he refused to get in the trailer, they wouldn’t try to make him. Previous Mike that entire year refused, and so…no Mike. It was disappointing to me the few games I went to that year–Mike’s entrance into the stadium was always one of my favorite parts of the game. The next year, they decided not to try, and I also think the veterinary school also realized that bringing him into the stadium is probably not the best thing for a tiger. There’s a lot of people, a lot of noise, and if he gets upset or irritated or anxious during a game, there’s no getting him out of the stadium again until half-time or the game ends–and what if the fans rush the field? He’s secure in his trailer, of course, but why upset a big animal who was rescued from a bad situation who’s finally getting used to being taken care of and spoiled? I myself began to realize, the longer more time passed and there was no tiger in the stadium, I rethought the whole thing. Whether there should be a wild animal habitat on campus or not is an entirely different argument, and one I am undecided about the right answer, and know that my reluctance to say its not good has a lot to do with my affection for that tiger.

I’ve also begun to really understand two things about college football (and life for that matter) is that when someone talks about tradition, they’re just saying “we’ve always done it this way” and change is scary; and a lot of the time tradition is what keeps problems festering for decades.

I also think the Governor making demands of our flagship university is not good for the school or the state. If you want to interfere with LSU, Governor Landry, why don’t you pump some more money into the school? Cut tuition? Repair or replace some of the crumbling buildings on campus? No, his only interest in LSU is the athletic teams and showing how powerful he is. He clearly doesn’t give a shit about education in Louisiana, especially if he actually believes having the Ten Commandments displayed in every classroom in the state will improve somehow our educational system…when what it actually is another form of the right’s “thoughts and prayers” bullshit they trot out whenever they try to force us to believe their corrupted faith and think that holy bandage they stick on the problem will make things better somehow.

Leaving things to God’s will is an abdication of morality and responsibility; the proverbial “Pilate washing his hands”. And is that what we need leading the state?

I am beginning to remember that the reason I try not to follow state politics more closely than I do is because it leads to fucking despair.

Right-wing media (which is apparently bought and paid for by the Kremlin) have been trying to hide their overt racism lately by using code, what is more commonly known as “dog whistles.” The latest is this “the Vice-President is a phony because she talks differently to different people”, which basically means “straight white people don’t do this so there must be some nefariously horrible reason for this.” No, douchebags, it’s more of a protective coloring, like chameleons, that marginalized people all develop because straight white people can be so fucking awful. One example of this is my parents had very pronounced rural Alabama accents, which began to fade over the years after they left, but it’s still there. Paul used to always love when I talked to my parents on the phone because my own accent comes out, and it would usually take about an hour or so for me to get back to the way I normally talk. I learned how to speak with an accent, which I also quickly learned to disguise in elementary school because it was very clear to me that the way I spoke made people assume I was stupid. It’s not just my family, either, that triggers my accent; whenever I speak to anyone who has one mine comes back out–my brain is coded that other people with Southern accents are safe. Likewise, hard as it is to believe but I also tone myself down when I’m around a majority of straight people I don’t know. This is why gay bars were so important for so long–after a week of coding myself as either “less gay” or “blend in don’t bring attention to yourself”, going to a gay bar where I could completely be myself without worry of losing either my job or being attacked was an enormous release, and I know I’m not the only gay man who saw the bars as a conduit to community and safety. That’s why it kind of bothers me that straight people come to gay bars and hang out because the vibe is so different than straight bars; their presence makes the safe space not as safe, and sometimes it makes them uncomfortable to be a minority and they act out. I suppose it’s kinder to say “straight people need to be more respectful of queer safe spaces.” That’s always been a problem, and really–bachelorette bridal parties need to stay out of gay bars because drunk straight white girls can be the absolute fucking worst.

And don’t come to our bars for entertainment if you don’t support our equality.

Yes, ladies, you’re super-cool for making asses out of yourself in queer bars, and oh so tolerant for gifting us and our spaces with your presence. I know that things have changed since I was younger, and the younger queer generations aren’t so rigid about separating their lives because they don’t have to, and I am all for that. Straight kids and queer kids absolutely should be friends, should hang out, and the sexuality thing shouldn’t make a difference, which is what we’ve always said. Younger generations don’t need that safe space as much, at least in the cities, the way we used to need it. I haven’t set foot in a gay bar in years, so maybe the entire culture has changed, and again, this is how things used to be is not a compelling argument against change. Maybe I’m just that old man who’s out of step with the young ones these days, and I do catch myself all the time questioning things I’ve always thought and believed and are reflexive; I’ve spent a lot of time the last few years sorting things out in my head, and seeing things with the clarity distance provides.

I was wrong about so many things. I blame public education, for teaching me American Mythology instead of US History.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later. Thanks for checking in!

Yes, I’m Ready

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week before work-at-home Friday; huzzah! It rained most of the day yesterday. We are in flood watch until Saturday morning, I believe; anyway, it’s going to be almost constant raining for the next few days, which I love. I love rain, and I write about rain an awful lot, especially here in New Orleans. God, we have the best thunderstorms here. Yes, I know, it’s not so awesome for folks who get water in their houses or their cars flooded and totaled by water damage, and I hate that for people (it happened to me once, but my car was able to be salvaged, although it never ran correctly again; the flooding was the beginning of the car’s slow death). But I like being inside while it rains outside, I love the way it gets cooler and the damp in the air is weirdly biting and comforting at the same time inside. I’m also writing a book that takes place during a big storm, so yes, I am writing rain again.

But I’m writing! I ran errands after work yesterday, gave Sparky treats and dinner, and plopped the old butt down and banged out 2100 words. Transitional chapter, which I always hate to write and always think they suck when I am writing them, but got it done and out of the way. Woo-hoo! Go, Greg, go! It does feel good when I write, and my mood does seem to improve and I get more things done than I usually do when I am not writing. I think it’s because I know I want to write but I can’t let things slide during the week if I want to take the weekend off from writing, which is the goal–or at least, not writing the book on the weekend. Tomorrow night I need to outline and synopsize the first four chapters, as well as nail down character names and list them–so I can develop those characters more to make the story stronger. I love the challenge I’m presenting to myself with this book in trying to do what I want to do with it, which is also a lot of fun. I do also need to do some more research on some other things I want to put in the book–and I also think I can plant the seeds for the next one during the story of this one, which I love. Or perhaps–ooooh, interesting–a three book overall arc to play out along with the plot of the current case? That could be fun, too. I love this part of writing a book; all the possibilities and things that may or may not work, the things and situations I set up that have to be explained so I have to figure it out. I don’t know, really, if people read the Scotty series because they like the characters and want to see what they’re up to, or if they like the plots, or maybe both? I’m usually just grateful people read them at all, honestly. Everything else is just gravy.

Yesterday was also a good day at the office. I helped some people, saw my appointments, and got things done, which is always nice. I also got tired a bit, but I also ate my lunch late and once I did, I felt very much better and more energized. The drive across town to get the mail wasn’t awful; they actually fixed the lights at the Louisiana and Toledano intersections (in a row, a few blocks apart; fun when the lights are blinking and they have been for a very very long time), which made the trip go much easier as there was no four-way stop and go nonsense, and when there are neutral grounds involved, New Orleans drivers–never the most trustworthy–have no idea what to do. I got across town, on a rainy day with some slight flooding, across town and then back home in half an hour, which was remarkable time. Very little traffic; perhaps many people stayed home from work for fear of flooding. But I was in a pretty good mood when I got home. Two books arrived at the service; a non-fiction book about the 2023 season of college football, and my friend Ellen Byron’s latest in her Cookbook Shop series, French Quarter Fright Night, which is one of my favorite series. My God, so many good books in my TBR pile! I’ve just got to make time to read more! It is one of my favorite things to do, and always has been.

The rain is supposed to start today around the time I leave for work, which should be very fun and exciting. I slept well last night, too. I feel very rested and awake this morning, which is great–but strange again; why am I feeling better on Thursday than I did on Tuesday morning? I don’t think I must have slept well on Monday night, because I was so tired after work on Tuesday night, and yet…here I am, feeling good and rested again this morning. Bizarre.

I’m glad the weekend is almost here, though. I don’t mind going to work, really, other than having to get up so early every morning, and how many people can say that? I probably make it sound like I don’t like my job, but I really only resent having to get up in the morning rather than waking up organically. I hate alarms.

And on that note, I am going to get ready to head into the spice mines. May your Thursday be as marvelous as you, Constant Reader, and thank you for being here.

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Cast Your Fate To The Wind

Ah, and here we are, three day weekend in the rearview mirror as we coast headfirst into a Tuesday that is destined to feel like a Monday all day. I set the alarm and got up at seven-ish; an hour later than a work day and really, something completely sensible to do on days off. An extra hour still feels like a treat, and then I have the entire morning to get things done. I washed dishes, made breakfast, wrote two posts, and then dug into the book and cranked out over two thousand words before noon–with the entire day still ahead of me. I wish I could tell you that I worked on some other writing, but I didn’t. I was reading newsletters and magazines that have stacked up (another thing that is stupid–I let magazines pile up, collect dust, and just be clutter rather than simply reading them at first opportunity and then tossing them in the trash–or tearing out an article that may be of interest to me at a later date (can’t imagine how all that paper piled up on me over the years). I am pleased to say I have only three back issues of Texas Monthly (their true crime reporting is stellar) and the latest 64 Parishes to read now. I also watched some news clips on Youtube, fell into a wormhole about the history of the Cathars in southern France and the Albigensian Crusade that killed them all, and finally started reading about the Baptist War in Jamaica–there’ll be more on that at another time, trust me on that– before doing some filing and touching up around here. All in all, it was a lovely weekend, and I am so delighted to be back into the book again (I was worried about picking it back up again after the last few days not working on it), and knowing that my editorial and creative eye is coming back together, too. I still have to get used to my life as it is now, and I know there are going to be bad days that I just need to accept and roll with, and not beat myself up over those sorts of things. Being too tired to write or create is a valid reason for not doing so. It just is painful and the writing isn’t any good, anyway–and it’s not like I need to prove to myself that I can write a goddamn crime novel, do I?

I feel pretty rested and good this morning. We shall see how that develops for the rest of the day. I think we’re pretty busy today; or maybe not; maybe it was next week? We always get busy at the STI clinic after Southern Decadence…which kind of makes me a little proud, because we’ve trained our clients so well that they know about the window periods for the bacterial infections so they wait. (The schedule isn’t that busy; I just checked it–laptop came home with me on Thursday–so yes, it’s next week that is super-busy.) I have to make groceries on the way home from the office tonight; I may be too tired to work on the book tonight but…that’s okay.

Yesterday afternoon I was kind of at loose ends and dangerously close to being bored, when I remembered a conversation at work recently, in which one of my co-workers told me he loves to watch bad movies with a friend to laugh at them, so I asked, as is my wont, if they’d seen Voyage of the Rock Aliens–I have yet to find anyone else who has seen it (I saw it twice in the theater) and so that was in my mind. Right now I can’t remember the brain trail that led me to think of it yesterday, but I did, and the whole movie is up on Youtube…so yes, I rewatched it, and…it really can’t be watched alone to be laughed at properly. Anyway, it was the great Ruth Gordon’s final movie (what an epitaph!), starred Pia Zadora and an incredibly beautiful young Craig Sheffer. It’s a weird mash-up of the bad scifi and beach movies of the 50s and 60s, a lot of the humor is of the time (I’m sure kids today, or even viewers of any age for that matter, would get the Lake Eerie jokes, because the lake was cleaned up), and it’s even more godawful to rewatch after forty years or so. It may even be worth it’s own entry…

We also started watching Kaos, which is demented in a very fun way; a modern twist on Greek mythology. A reboot kind of, if you will. Jeff Goldblum is perfect as Zeus, as is Janet McTeer as Hera. Of course, since it involves Orpheus and Eurydice, it put me in mind of Hadestown, which I saw on Broadway in New York thanks to Mike Ford. I’m looking forward to watching more tonight, if I’m not too tired and Paul isn’t working on a grant the way he has been for the last week or so. Of course, I could unwind with my Alison Gaylin ARC, which I am doling out to myself as a reward for getting things done.

I am very glad that my brain has finally unlocked and I am not only writing again, but writing the way I did before the recent times of troubles. I’m enjoying it, and am having fun with it again. I don’t know if I am all the way there again yet, and I’m not all the way back to normal (or whatever passes for normal in my life) quite yet, but I don’t feel like there’s a dark cloud in my brain and just getting through the day is a triumph anymore. Now that it’s unlocked, I can also see that some of the stories I’ve written over the last four years and not been able to place (or finish)? Now that my mind is more clear than it’s been in a while, I can see what the problems are–the voice and tone of the story. They’re written kind of in a cheery, pleasant tone, and that doesn’t work with what the stories are about. What was I thinking? No, they need to be colder, and more desperate, unsentimental, which isn’t as easy for me as it should be. They need to be harder and colder and crueler, more desperate, in order for the stories to work, which is also pretty cool. I’m so glad I’ve figured this out at long last! I also think part of the reason I made the stories not as dark as they needed to be was because of the shitshow life had become for us all and I didn’t want to write anything dark. My brain was telling me something, wasn’t it?

I also walked to Walgreens to get treats for His Impious Majesty, listening to the My Dad Wrote a Porno podcast and rather enjoying it–it’s really hilarious, you should check it out–when the door opened in my brain and I finally figured out what podcasts actually are: they’re like radio shows of old only with a more modern delivery system. so we’ve kind of circled back around the entertainment my grandparents used to enjoy–radio/podcast, they are basically the same, with the primary difference how you get distributed to listeners, kind of like do-it-yourself radio. Yes, it only took me how many years to figure it out? Heavy sigh. But now that I finally get them, I can start looking for others that could be fun and informational. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around them–sometimes I have to connect newer technology to older so I can understand its purpose. Yes, I am well aware how obtuse I can be, which I think is a part of the wacky brain chemistry that I want to talk to my doctor about. I don’t need medication to control the wandering mind syndrome, as I’ve remembered how to write again, so that’s not an issue. But it would be nice to have a diagnosis rather than simply wondering and self-diagnosing from my reading.

I also started relearning German on Duolingo this weekend, which makes sense. There are crusty memories deep in the recesses of my brain, and doesn’t it make more sense to try triggering my memory rather than starting from scratch with a whole new language. So far, so good. I can order coffee and bread and wine in German now. So, when I am in a German coffee shop I can say, kaffee und brot, bitte.

I didn’t really have much FOMO about Bouchercon over the weekend–obviously, I know I would have had fun had I gone because now I know too many people not to have fun, if that makes any kind of sense to you. I did miss seeing everyone, but my primary regret in not going was not being able to participate in the voting down of removing the DEI (aka inclusion) from the Bouchercon operating by-laws…yes another attempt by a mediocre white man who used to be on the Board and was long associated with it (back in its misogynist, racist, homophobic days where that kind of shit was not only tolerated, but enjoyed) deciding that since he had a problem with inclusion the entire conference should just do away with it. Thanks, Al Abramson, I remember reporting being treated homophobically by programming years ago and you just patted me on the head and basically told me to get over it. Fuck you all the way to hell and back, and don’t think we aren’t fucking organized, you miserable piece of bigoted trash. Can’t imagine why queers felt uncomfortable and unsafe attending your fucking event, and the trash LOC couldn’t even be bothered reassuring us, and in fact, exposed how homophobic the LOC was. But thanks to the alert Board members and some others–CWoC, QCW–rallied the troops, but the Board also refused to consider it and the refusal of this last minute last ditch attempt to make it a Karen-and-Chad conference again. But this is also why we have to be forever vigilant, because there’s always some mediocrity trying to drive out the marginalized.

Must have been a real bitch-slap seeing how diverse the Anthony Awards were.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday that feels like Monday, and may be back later.

Mystery to Me

The other day after work I was too tired to write and so I settled into the easy chair with one Sparky for cuddle time, but needed something to watch. I finished burning through the news to get caught up as I do every day, and then started searching for something else to watch when I saw Scooby Doo, Where Are You? in my “Up Next” list as I scrolled through it. It’s always tricky when I need something to watch on my own without Paul–it has to be something he’s not interested in watching–and at some point over the last four years I started revisiting this show from my childhood but never finished the rewatch–mainly because I am now in my sixties; far too old for the audience they were going for.

While I wouldn’t say Scooby Doo Where Are You? was necessarily a huge influence on me and my life, I did love it and watched it every Saturday. It started sometime after Jonny Quest and The Hardy Boys cartoon was cancelled, and a kid who was devouring kids’ series books by the stacks and checking out every book in the school and public library that had the words mystery, secret, clue, haunted, ghost, riddle, or phantom in the title, the adventures of the Scooby gang was usually the highlight of my Saturday morning cartoon experience. I have not been a fan of anything that came in the wake of the original half-hour show (we will never discuss the abomination/hate crime that was Scrappy Doo), and for the purpose of this entry (and really, in my heart and mind) we will pretend that the show was cancelled after the original series run and nothing was rebooted, restarted, revamped, or overhauled in the years since the original Scooby Doo money train was derailed.

But saying Scooby Doo didn’t cement my interest in mysteries wouldn’t be true. The show did, silly as it was (watching as an adult I couldn’t help but wonder, “why would the bad guys go to such extremes to scare people off?”–which also is a contrivance often used in the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys type books, too), but I watched it every Saturday morning. I kept watching through the next iteration, the hour long show with guest stars, but after that I was too old and had better things to do on Saturday morning than watch cartoons. I’ve always had a soft spot for Scooby, just as I did for the animated Hardy Boys show and Jonny Quest, and unlike many others, I never see reboots or remakes or re-imaginings as “destroying my childhood” because I am not a moron. I can see how the show appealed to kids–you can never go wrong with a sentient Great Dane with limited speaking abilities–and I remember writing Scooby fan-fic when I was young. I started out “novelizing” episodes, and started writing my own. I’d forgotten about that when I was originally rewatching, but in my head the kids’ series I eventually came up with was linked very much, not only to other kids’ series, but Scooby Doo as well.

I don’t want to adapt Scooby or write Scooby books anymore, but I do occasionally want to go back to my kids’ series and think, why don’t you give this a try? Often times, the reason I don’t write things I think might be fun challenges is mostly cowardice and Imposter Syndrome. Can I really write kids’ fiction? Can I really write historicals? However, writing Jonny Quest might be interesting, especially with a reading of the Quests as a queer family.

One of the things about Scooby Doo that always interested me as a kid, and continues to interest me as an adult: Velma. Velma was clearly the smartest of the gang1, which was fun and unusual, and Daphne (‘danger prone Daphne’) wasn’t dumb despite being the pretty one, even though she often needed rescuing. Over the years the character of Velma was really interesting to me–being a brain, of course, meant she had to wear glasses and was hopelessly far-sighted–because she wasn’t easily scared and she was often the one who figured everything out. It was also interesting to me over the years to see many people read Velma as a coded lesbian, which begs the question why? She never has any interest in the opposite sex, but none of them do, really–it’s not that kind of show. We have no background on the gang, either–how are they able to just drive around the country at their age without having to check in with parents, and where does their money come from?

Of course, this is asking a lot out of a children’s cartoon series, which is also why I find it odd to revisit these shows looking for queer coding, and you can usually find it. The all-male environment of Jonny Quest, which is also a kind of “found family” show or Velma not being a late 1960’s/early 1970’s stereotyped girl are good examples of this.

I’ve always wanted to do a reread of all the kids’ series (I still have the books) to reread them for queer coding. I’ve already mentioned before that there was homoeroticism in both the Ken Holt and Rick Brant series–deliberate or not, it’s hard to say–but does this exist in the more popular Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books. Is tomboy Trixie Belden a budding butch lesbian, with Honey her future femme wife? What about cousins Bess and George in the Nancy Drew series, who are also almost a parody of butch/femme dynamics?

This is the kind of stuff I would love to write–critical queer theory about kids’ mystery series, books, and television programs.

Maybe when I retire.

  1. Calling themselves that also always amused me, since gangs usually are criminals of some sort or another; gang is usually mean that way, even though it’s just a descriptor for a group of people with a similar interest. ↩︎