Category: research

Let the Mystery Be

Ah, it’s Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It’s currently 54 degrees in the Crescent City (it was supposed to dip down into the 40s for the low; maybe it happened while I was sleeping), and it’s light outside. I also get to give myself my shot this morning by myself, but I’m not terribly concerned about that–no anxiety here!–because there are instructional videos on Youtube, for a worst case scenario. I can also tell it’s about time for it, as I’ve had some very small stomach issues (nothing major or disruptive) over the course of the weekend. The Saints apparently got pummeled again yesterday, too–I imagine there aren’t many people around who remember how hapless they used to be, so this recent turn of ineptitude is probably a big shock.

At least we managed to win a Super Bowl during that run, you know?

We watched Jurassic World: Rebirth1, primarily for Jonathan Bailey and dinosaurs, and Bailey didn’t disappoint, and some of the dinosaurs were really cool…but the plot was stupid and the movie was really poorly written, clearly relying on the dinosaurs (and Jonathan Bailey) to make the viewer forget how abysmal the film actually is. When it ended, Paul said, “I am so glad we didn’t pay to see that in the theater” and I couldn’t do anything other than agree. I mean, it’s usually not a good sign when you’re rooting for the dinosaurs, right? (Except for Jonathan Bailey…hmm, sensing a theme in this paragraph) Scarlett Johansson was pretty kick-ass as the leader of the “extraction” theme–they are being sent into the dinosaur area to retrieve blood for medical research from the biggest dinosaurs (land, sea, air) which also doesn’t make sense…since the way it was explained only said they needed it from a large dinosaur, so why not just get it all from the first big one you encounter? Because, silly viewer, there would be no movie after the sea dinosaur! Contrived, contrived, contrived…and none of this shit made the least bit of sense. I know, I know–but DINOSAURS!

Yeah, sorry, I still need a plot and story that make sense and don’t have holes big enough to drive an aircraft carrier through in my monster movies. And really, that’s all these movies are–monster movies with cash grab sequels. I think I’ve only seen two before this one: the original and one of the sequels with Chris Pratt, who I didn’t know yet was a garbage piece of shit person. He is the worst Chris. I doubt I’ll watch another of these movies, and I certainly would never pay to watch one, for sure.

Yesterday was a nice, relaxing day. It was a good weekend overall, really. We got Paul’s new phone set up, we drove out to the mall so he could get some new clothes for a gala event he has to go to this week, and then we went all the way to Kenner to get him some new over-the-ear headphones, because the best Christmas gift ever (the original ones I got him almost nine years ago) wouldn’t sync with the new phone (much like how my hearing aids don’t with my new phone), and we got him some nice new ones, that synced up immediately. We watched the movie at night and I mostly just did chores and some research yesterday on Youtube–primarily watching videos about Southern/Appalachian lores and legends to research for potential stories of my own (one synced up nicely for an unfinished young adult novel I want to get done in 2026), which is quite marvelous, really. I still haven’t made the to-do list that’s absolutely necessary for me to stay on track this week, which I need to do today. The good news is I feel alert, rested and mentally alert, which is always a good thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader–remember, Christmas looms on the horizon–and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, I promise.

  1. I actually read the Michael Crichton original novel before it was filmed. ↩︎

Season of the Witch

Happy All Saints Day! And welcome to November, I suppose. This year is slipping away like sands through the hour glass (hat tip: Days of Our Lives), but the terrorist attack of New Year’s seems like it was a million years ago, too. When I think about where we are now as opposed to where we were ten months ago, though…it seems like a decade has passed since my New Year’s blog, doesn’t it? I slept deeply and well last night, and Sparky let me sleep later (although he got his razor blades trimmed yesterday, so him smacking me in the face in the morning doesn’t have the same impact) than I usually do, so that was nice too. We have to run some errands today we didn’t get to yesterday, but that’s fine. LSU isn’t playing today so I don’t have a vested interest in watching games today, so I don’t really care to be home for them all day, either. I probably won’t get any writing or much reading done, but…I also am not going to worry about it. Yes, time is slipping away, but I also need to allow myself to get rest and be lazy without beating myself up about it all the damned time, too. Progress?

Perhaps. We shall see.

I also have to pay some bills this morning before we do anything, and probably get some of the chores done, too. I made good progress on chores yesterday; the bed linens all got laundered, the dishes are done and put away, the counters are cleaned and cleared, and all I really need to do is vacuum the rugs and mop the floors, and potentially prune more of the books down. I need to be more ruthless, too.

The backlash to governor Janky Jeff’s massive interference with LSU apparently taught the moron some sort of lesson, because he backed the fuck down after Scott Woodward (best of luck to you, sir, you worked wonders at LSU and I am sorry Janky Jeff decided to show his ass) was fired. To paraphrase Mean Girls, “he didn’t even go there.” He also got some pushback when he tried to force Loyola (a Jesuit Catholic private university in New Orleans) to charter a chapter of Turning Point USA after the student senate flatly rejected their application, mainly because they don’t share the same values as the Society of Jesus. Bitch slap! I was glad to see a Catholic university stand their ground against political interference from TEMU Huey Long. Don’t stand with the evangelicals, Catholics–they will come for you eventually as idolators and papists and pagans. They don’t think you’re real Christians in the first place, so less than what they see as “white.” Janky Jeff is not popular in Louisiana; only 19% of registered voters even voted in that gubernatorial election because we had no options. All the candidates were different degrees of MAGA, anyway. I don’t even remember who I voted for, but I have never cast a ballot for Jeff Landry and I never will.

I can only hope to be seated in the jury for his inevitable trial for corruption and malfeasance. No, they wouldn’t seat me, because no one could ever convince me he isn’t guilty.

Then again, Jindal was never charged with anything. And he definitely should have been; his wife was just as corrupt as Casey DeSantis, and the corrupt always corrupt. (Note to everyone: their women are just as bad as, if not worse, than their husbands. See: Usha Vance, Melania Trump, Lara Trump…the list is lengthy.)

Sigh.

My mind is still deeply entrenched in horror, by the way, which is something I don’t remember Halloween Horror Month doing to me before; maybe because I was always trying to finish a book before the end of the year? This entire decade has been mentally draining and fatiguing, frankly, and I’ve had a lot of brain fog and increasing loss of memory. I do wonder occasionally about how different my career would be had I gone into horror rather than crime; rather than just being a fan. I did want to write horror when I was in my twenties, and even tried. I laugh now when I remember thinking my personalized rejections with suggestions and tips and encouragement to keep writing and submitting to them, from horror magazine editors, was just them being nice. Editors are never nice like that, ever, as I have since learned. I guess I was so down on myself and had such a lack of self-esteem (as well as knowledge; there was no one to tell me differently) that I focused on the rejection rather than accepting the encouragement. Each rejection was further confirmation that I was a loser, and I was in such a spiral of misery in the 1980s there wasn’t any way I could have seriously pursued being a writer. I don’t have regrets–I never do–but sometimes I do wonder. I played the cards I was dealt and everything eventually turned out, didn’t it? But I am going to try to work on some things tomorrow, since I don’t have to leave the house at all and Paul is, I think, going to his office.

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

Cry Little Sister

Thou shalt not fall…1

Tuesday morning in the Lost Apartment and I slept through the night–at least I don’t remember waking up or being in that horrible half-sleep thing I used to deal with all the time (and do NOT miss that shit in the least) and this morning I feel more physically rested than I did yesterday. The weather is continuing to get cooler, which is lovely. I ran some errands on my way home from work tonight, and will probably stop and make a little groceries on the way home this evening as well. After a nice day at work yesterday, I came home to a very needy and demanding kitty who demanded lap time from me; Paul and I also started watching the new season of The Diplomat, which is excellent (I still can’t entirely wrap my mind around the fact that it’s FELICITY in the lead; do people remember that show at all?), and you can never go wrong adding Alison Janney to the cast of anything.

I didn’t get anything much done outside of job duties and errands yesterday; probably a delayed hangover from the emotional release of being done with the book at last. I did pick up some books on the way home: the new Andy Mills mystery by Lev Rosen, Mirage City; American Scary: A History of Horror from Salem to Stephen King and Beyond by Jeremy Dauber; The Pink Marine by Greg Cope White (the basis for Boots); and Breathe In Bleed Out by Brian McAuley, all of which look terrific. I mean, I don’t need more books–it’s quite literally the last thing I need–but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

I do want to do some writing this week; I may extend the week through this weekend (I mean, I am extending Halloween Horror Month, and why should I be ruled by the tyranny of the calendar if I don’t have deadlines?) because I am feeling a bit of the post-book malaise, which always happens but I didn’t think was going to happen this time…I always feel a bit drained and like I need to recharge a bit. But you never know; I may be able to get some words down today–never say never, after all, and stranger things have happened.

I have to say that I’ve been a little shocked and surprised by everything that’s come out since Brian Kelly was fired on Sunday. I haven’t seen anything positive posted by any of his former players (but a lot of negative stuff, including from past stars), but I did see the Lacy family posted something positive about how he was with them after Kyren’s death earlier this year (which I am still angry about, but the news cycle has moved on from his being framed by a fucking state trooper), which was nice. I’m not sure how the rest of the season is going to go; probably safe to assume we’re going to lose to both Alabama and Oklahoma with potential wins against Western Kentucky and Arkansas (maybe)–but I would love to know what went on during half-time of the A&M game, given the utter and complete collapse after we took the field again.

Clearly, he wasn’t much of a motivational speaker.

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

Ramesses, Ramesses, Ramesses…
  1. I really should write about The Lost Boys sometime. ↩︎

Goo Goo Muck

Pay-the-Bills Wednesday! Another good night’s sleep, another morning of not wanting to get out of the warm and oh-so-comfy bed. I was tired yesterday when I got home from work, and thus didn’t get much of anything done other than cuddling with Sparky and catching up on the news, which is always exhausting and tiring. I did also get to go to bed early last night, too–maybe I should start going to bed at nine instead of between nine-thirty and ten; I certainly fall asleep in my chair well before that.

There’s a new storm in the gulf (Caribbean Sea, actually) formed and no one seems to know where it was going to go–which is always a lovely thing for late October. Her name this time is Michelle, and again it’s very weird to have a hurricane formed and sitting down there off Venezuela when I had my editorial call about Hurricane Season Hustle. My editor loved the book, which is always lovely, and there’s very little for me to do as far as revisions and edits, which is super-nice. The experience of writing this book wasn’t a pleasant one, but it really didn’t have anything to do with the actual writing of the book but everything that went on while I was writing the book. This has colored how I feel about the book, honestly, which is yet another example of why an editor is necessary. But I am very happy it is almost done and out of my hands, and it’s been a hot minute since I had a novel come out….and this is a February 2026 release date. Huzzah!

And now I need to start getting ready to push my way through the next one I want to write, which, at long last, is Chlorine, and I am very excited at finally being able to sink my teeth into this one. I am thinking about doing another Scotty next year, and maybe even a new Chanse (long shot) for the year that series, now ended, turns 25. Twenty-five. The Scotty series turns 25 in 2028…yikes, you know? Of course I don’t want to think about how old I will be on those momentous occasions…oh, that’s a lie. I don’t care that I’m old and getting older every day. I only think of it in the terms of wow that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

I’ve also been learning that I need to be more careful with my words and shouldn’t use some as interchangeably as I always, flippantly, have done. For one example, I’m used to using tired as a catch-all for everything; but there are differences between the feelings that tired doesn’t really adequately convey what I am feeling. This morning, I feel a bit sleepy physically; I’m not tired or fatigued, but like part of my body still hasn’t completely woken up yet. My mind is firing on every cylinder. So, I am trying to use fatigue because it’s more accurate than saying tired; brain fog for that horrible mental feeling; and sleepy for “want to go to, or back to, bed.” You’d think a writer would always be careful with their words, but me? Not so much. I am trying to be better about that, though.

I am loving this low 80’s daytime/mid-60’s at night weather, and it’s going to dip even more next week–going into the low 70’s and mid-50s at night. Hurray for a lower power bill! And next Friday is Halloween! How has that happened already? Heavy sigh. It’s been a rough year, so I probably should be happier that it went by so fast.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will see you in the morning on “last day in the office Thursday for the week.”

I love the juxtaposition between the ancient temple and the modern architecture.

Unholy

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. Huzzah, I think. I felt good yesterday, and read a lot further into Hokuloa Road, which I am also really enjoying (more on that later). It was, overall, a nice and relaxed day here in the Lost Apartment. Sparky was good cuddle-boy all day, too, for the most part. He still does his best to get me up at six every morning, but much more intensely when he hears the alarm go off. He knows that means I have to get up, and so he is more persistent on those mornings (like this morning). But I feel rested and good, which is always a better way of starting the week rather than feeling tired, which is how last week developed, and that tired feeling lasted through the week and most of the weekend.

I did some chores yesterday and made progress on getting everything organized and filed away, around reading the book. I also made some progress on other things, too, which was very cool. It was nice having a productive weekend for a change, other than one where I am trying to get rested and nothing much gets done. The LSU loss Saturday morning also kind of killed my interest in watching games on Saturday, which helped me get things done. They play at night this Saturday, hosting undefeated Texas A&M, who have never won in Baton Rouge since joining the SEC–they beat Alabama before they beat LSU, in fact–but they are pretty good this year and LSU is not, so…probably be a long night this Saturday.

I also need to revise and update my to-do list this morning at some point. I’m not sure how busy we will be in the clinic today, but when I checked Thursday it wasn’t bad–that obviously could have changed between then and now. We shall see.

It was both weird and nice to spend so much time reading yesterday. I always forget how much I love reading (I have noted, before, many times, how weird it is that I have to force myself to do things that I love), until I really get caught up in a book. I was hoping it would rain yesterday, but alas–it was not to be. That would have been lovely–raining outside, snuggled under a blanket in my easy chair with Sparky and a cup of coffee, all snug while I read. It just doesn’t get better than that, you know? I am planning on reading some more tonight when I get home from the office before doing some chores–Sparky loves to sleep in my lap once I get home for the day–and if I can do that every night, I can make some progress on this out-of-control TBR pile.

As I said, I am enjoying Hokuloa Road. It’s a slow burn, which I like, slowly picking up speed as you go. It’s set on a made-up island in the Hawaiian Island chain (best I can tell; apologies if I am incorrect and the unnamed island actually does exist), which is fun. I love Hawaii, even if I haven’t been back there in thirty years. It was my parents’ absolute favorite place to go in the world; so every year I worked at the airline we’d go. I fell in love with Hawaii myself more every time we went, and the last time we went I broke away and did gay things; went to the gay bars, went to the gay beach every day, and even got laid a couple of times while I was there. It was a lot of fun, and I had always wanted to write about Hawaii–but only did once, in an erotic short story and like Elizabeth Hand, I never named the setting as a Hawaiian beach. (The story was called “The Sea Where It’s Shallow”–one of my all-time favorite titles–and I don’t remember where it was published originally, but I do know it’s in my collection Promises in Every Star.) I worry about exoticizing Hawaii and it’s native people, as a haole. Maybe I should revisit it? I do know that some novels I’ve read set in Hawaii were very much that…

I also started writing a short story this weekend, with the working title “Even Katydids Dream,” and yes, that’s a very obvious Shirley Jackson reference. It was inspired by that call for submissions for one (!) lucky writer to get into that Stephen King The Shining appreciation anthology–and the furor that followed the announcement. I really don’t like when authors call out anthology editors for opportunities they don’t think are “fair.” Fairness has nothing to do with it, for the record, and it’s their anthology; they can make the rules whatever they want them to be. I was criticized by people for the last open call I did for an anthology because they didn’t like my rules–and I replied to every whining email “don’t submit.” (I also tracked them, so I could be certain not to accept a story from someone who established from the very fucking beginning they would be difficult to work with and entitled–and I almost always back the writers, so for me to be critical of writers…yeah.) Nothing is fair in publishing, so get used to it unless you want to be angry all the time.

I’d rather channel that energy into writing, frankly.

The more I thought about the pompous and pretentious complaints I saw over the course of a few days last week, the more I started thinking about writing something in that universe. But what? And then the idea came to me, followed by the title, so I started writing it. I probably won’t submit it to the call–one of the submission rules (the timing) is something I’m not sure I would be able to handle. They are only considering the first five hundred stories, so when the window opens you have to have everything ready to go so you can hit send when the minute turns–and I know myself too well to think I’ll remember to get up early on that day. But I like the story, and I can always strip all that Overlook Hotel stuff out of it and use it somewhere else if I want to. I may not ever finish it. Who knows?

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

Wish List

Somehow I’ve made it to Wednesday this week, so praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, thank you very much. I was very tired yesterday–muscle fatigue more than anything else, thank God no brain fog–but there have been worse days than yesterday. I got almost completely caught up on all the work I was behind on, and can head into the office today knowing that I will be caught up and current on everything by the end of the day, which is marvelous. Yay me! I also updated all bills and made a to-do list yesterday, which should work for the rest of the week. I also get to start reading a new horror novel when I get home from work tonight–either Scott Carson or Elizabeth Hand, which should be awesome.

We finished Boots last night, which I enjoyed very much. I have seen some people complaining about the lack of romance on the show–it’s boot fucking camp, hello?–which seems kind of a ludicrous complaint, really. Were they expecting soft-core gay porn? Wasn’t all the eye candy enough? Honestly. I enjoyed the writing, the acting, and the story itself. I may go into more deeply at some point, after I’ve digested it a while and thought about it some more. I also enjoyed Miles Heizer in this, and given how much he annoyed me in Thirteen Reasons Why, and that is saying something. But I will say this–I think Max Parker is the breakout star from this show. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous man, and his performance as a decorated (and closeted) drill instructor during those horrible times when homosexuality was a crime in the armed forces, and yeah. There was a part of me that hoped the characters of Miles and Max would end up together–but I wasn’t terribly disappointed (SPOILER) that they didn’t. It was the story of Miles getting through boot camp with his platoon brothers, the relationships they built with each other, and literally maturing and growing up; and while the notion of ideal Marine masculinity can be troubling…they are being trained to work as a unit and for war.

Something to ponder there. Was modern-day toxic masculinity developed during war-time service in the Pacific and Europe, only to have the returning soldiers seep into the popular culture? Yeah, I’ll probably write longer-form about Boots, because it will easily play into my essay series about masculinity that I am planning to write.

Also, very nice to see openly gay actors not only getting work but getting to play gay characters in something as well done as this.1 It also reminded me that my dad thought it might be a good idea for me to go into the military for two years before going to college–and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with that idea. I don’t regret that decision, but you always have to wonder how different everything would be had I went along with that idea.

Must be my old age that has me going down these alternate history paths.

I did make a to-do list yesterday and I plan on getting started on that today. I am going to fetch the mail on my way home from work tonight, and then probably again on Friday afternoon. Since the LSU game is so early on Saturday, I’ll try to get all errands done either on Friday or Sunday morning. I also started writing a longer-form essay on Frendo Lives, too; what’s the point of Halloween Horror Month if I don’t write about the horror media I am consuming this month? I also seriously want to write about the whole concept of the slasher story, which is what Adam Cesare’s “Frendo” trilogy basically are. I have to say I’ve always wanted to write a slasher novel.

Still not completely caught up on everything that’s been going on in the world, and not really sure that I actually want to, either. Ah, well.

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

The adorable Freddie Stroma, who plays Vigilante in Peacemaker
  1. Apparently it filmed here in New Orleans, too. ↩︎

Actually Romantic

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and its rainy and gloomy. It started raining yesterday afternoon, and all through the night, which helped me sleep really well, even if my hips are a bit achy this morning I feel pretty good, which is a good thing as I have more work to do on the book today. Obviously, I would rather get my blanket, and curl up in my easy chair with a book and my coffee and be blissfully happy, but there’s work to be done and I must make some serious progress so there’s not as much stress on me tomorrow. I also need to pay some bills this morning, and am actually feeling kind of good. Probably because of the rain. I do love rain.

I spent most of yesterday writing or reading or editing until I was bleary-eyed and needed to quit for the day, which was pleasant. Last night we started watching Monster: The Ed Gein Story, which was incredibly disturbing to watch; so much so that we didn’t watch the second episode. We moved on to Abbott Elementary and Alien: Earth, both of which were rather interesting. I’m not really sure where this show falls in the Alien timeline–I’m not even sure I’ve seen all the movies, to be honest–but it’s interesting enough on its own, and maybe we don’t need to know any of that stuff to be entertained by the show. I did have games on during the day in the living room–but wasn’t watching, really. I do know Georgia beat Kentucky, Alabama beat Vanderbilt, Florida beat Texas (LOL), and Miami beat Florida State. Oh yes, UCLA beat Penn State1 (another LOL). But it just goes to show how little anyone knows before the season begins and any games have been played, which again demonstrates how useless polls are this early in the season–but have to have rankings to drive ratings, right?

Now remind yourself that polls used to determine the national champion at the end of the year and you can see how fucked up college football used to be, when smaller schools without the brand names of USC, Notre Dame, Ohio State, Alabama or Texas had little to no chance of landing in the top five until after the halfway point of the season. It’s called bias, and everyone is biased when things are determined by observation and personal opinion. Now those biases come out when the play-off selections are made. Sad, but true. I can’t complain too much, because LSU is now one of those brands (only Alabama has won more national titles this century), but I said all along after the Clemson brand that LSU was overrated, and I was right. I wanted to be wrong, but…

I also started my reread of The Haunting of Hill House and Shirley Jackson truly was a witch. How did she think of those sentences, these characters, this story? I always find myself in awe every time I reread this book, or whenever I read something new of hers. I’ve not read all the short stories or the novels, but I do want to at some point. I have the Hangsaman audiobook downloaded into my phone; maybe I should listen to that on my drive than what I already downloaded? Something to think over by Wednesday, for sure.

I am still boiling angry at the Kyren Lacy situation–as well as Trey Reed’s murder. When will southern white cops stop brushing aside inconvenient facts and truths when it comes to young Black men? The state cop who framed Lacy should get the death penalty as far as I am concerned, and the Lacy family should sue the state of Louisiana and bankrupt it. It’s the lack of consequence which leads to more incidents of this kind, and I for one have little to no desire to go back to the so-called halcyon past all white supremacists fantasize about.

What is even more sickening to me is wondering whether I would be as angry about this case had the young man not been a former LSU star or not, and I do have to wonder. But I can comfort myself with thinking that I watched him play for three years and was a fan, hence the outrage. I am outraged about Trey Reed, too–but perhaps its my familiarity with Lacy that makes it more visceral to me?

Both young men should be ALIVE.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I have a lot to get done today and I need to get started. No worries, though; I will be back in the morning with another update!

This is the building where the first American born Princess of Monaco, Alice Heine, was born and raised. She was fascinating, and I don’t understand why she isn’t better known. I’ve always wanted to write about her.
  1. I believe, in my football superstitious mindset, that Penn State’s program was cursed once we all found out how craven and revolting Joe Paterno was in covering up years of sexual abuse of boys there–so they’ll never quite make it to the top of the heap, but will get their hopes up every year only to be cruelly dashed. I also think they wouldn’t have been cursed if their fans hadn’t opposed and rioted over the firing of a pedophile accomplice. Priorities. ↩︎

Da Doo Ron Ron

Sunday, Sunday…can’t trust that day.

I probably should have saved this title for Monday, since the original lyrics open with “met her on a Monday and my heart stood still.” But it will always be a Shaun Cassidy tune to me, even though his version was a cover and reminds me of the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries series that aired in the late 1970s. Ah, to be in my teens again–only medicated properly this time. What a difference that could have made, right?

I left the apartment yesterday morning to walk over to the Marsten House on St. Charles, and I have to say–the experience was vastly superior to the one I had on Magazine, in the Garden District’s version of Walgreens. Including walking there and back, it took a sum total of fifteen minutes, so fuck you, Walgreens on Magazine; you will now be known as the Marsten House on Magazine, and the one a block from my house will simply be Walgreens again. Still not planning on doing much business with them going forward, but the experience was entirely pleasant. Until I got home, at any rate. Remember, I felt good yesterday morning? Well, within an hour of getting home I was running a slight fever and was completely exhausted. Everything aches from fatigue this morning, despite a good night’s sleep, and my alarm kitty let me sleep later than usual, too. (He tried to get me up at the normal time, but when I didn’t? He just turned into a purring kitty cuddle puddle, which made it even harder to get up. My mind was woozy all day, too, so I didn’t get much done other than sitting in my easy chair with football games on, a couple of things around the house (dishes and a load of laundry), and read some more of The Hunting Wives. Paul was out packing up his office all day and didn’t get home until after nine (he’ll be doing the same today, too). Most of the football games were disappointing–LSU lost and played terribly; Auburn lost to A&M; and Arkansas lost to Notre Dame. Georgia-Alabama was a really good game, as was Mississippi State-Tennessee, and Tulane trounced Tulsa. But I wasn’t really vested in any of the games–the fatigue and brain fog thing again–so the LSU loss didn’t really hit as hard as it usually does. So, thanks, COVID vaccine?

And do not @me regarding the vaccine reaction. I work in public health, so let me stop you before you start: I will block you for anti-vaxxer stupidity, and fuck you, while we are at it; fuck you with a razor-blade encrusted dildo. Jenny McCarthy should burn in hell for all eternity for her ignorance and idiocy–anyone who listens to that stupid bitch for medical advice is even worse than she is– period, and fuck you. I reacted strongly to the vaccine because I am immunocompromised because of the colitis, idiots.

I will never understand the mentality that it’s preferable to have a dead child as opposed to an autistic one.

My hips and legs ache painfully. It’s horrible. But my coffee is delicious, and so was my coffee cake. I’m about to make some toast, and maybe a bowl of cereal and get another cup. I have some emails I want to answer this morning–I’ve been ignoring my inbox for quite some time–and of course, there are some finishing touches the apartment also needs to have done. I don’t know what my energy is going to be like throughout the rest of the day, but I hold out hope for a very nice, productive day.

Also? I really miss the time when I didn’t dread checking the news.

I did think a lot yesterday about the book and writing, even if I couldn’t focus enough to write. (The brain fog is absolutely terrifying, for the record. And the memory losses are even worse.) I know what the book needs in order to be finished, and it’s just a matter of energy and brain function. I also watched some videos for research for other projects (and for the book, too), and stumbled across a marvelous documentary about the Manchac Swamp and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. As you may or may not remember, the “curse” also involves the complete destruction of the isolated swamp town, Frenier, where she lived, by the Hurricane of 1915. (It also wiped out Manila Village and the Filipino settlements on the shores of Barataria Bay and Lake Borgne.) I’ve always wanted to write about the hurricane and Julia Brown–as well as the Filipino immigrant settlements, and it occurred to me after watching this documentary (which also talked about the destruction of the cypress forests in the swamp, which has also severely damaged the swamp ecosystem), and as we all know, I’ve been thinking about writing an environmental thriller set down here. Why not about the Manchac Swamp and some murders?

Why not, indeed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday filled with love and laughter and relaxation, and I will be back on the morrow.

Crumbling old bridge in rural Louisiana

Lay A Little Lovin’ On Me

Thursday last day in the office for me for the week blog, and I am glad it’s nearing the end of this week. I got tired yesterday afternoon at work–the big tired; not fatigue but just super-tired from getting up and working so much already. The book continues to go well, and I got more work done on it last night, too. Huzzah! I am also having dinner tonight in the Marigny with a good friend, which I am also looking forward to. We’re having a bit of a thunderstorm this morning–thunder woke me up before either the alarm or the alarm kitty–but I remained snug in my bed under my pile of blankets and wishing I didn’t have to get up at all. I love rain so much. I am also a little bit on the tired side this morning, par for the course for a rainy Thursday morning. I hope the fatigue doesn’t set in, else I’ll be a drag at dinner.

And that won’t be much fun, will it?

Probably not.

Gloom and rain all day, though, should pick me right up, right? LOL. I do hope, though, that it rains through the night.

I did come straight home from work yesterday, and the groceries were delivered shortly after I got home. We caught up on the news (Paul worked at home, so was here when I got home), and watched this week’s episode of The Morning Show before we went to bed early. Exciting, isn’t it? I also worked on the book last night and I am very pleased with how it is all coming together. It’s been so long, you know, since I’ve finished a book. Did I just go two years without a book being released? Yep, it looks that way, and so much has happened since the last time I finished a book that I don’t really remember much of writing or finishing it, and frankly, I’m not even sure what my last book published was, in all honesty. My memory issues are becoming a little bit on the scary side…but it’s probably all related to trauma and surgeries and getting older. It also started getting worse when I changed medications…but trading my memory for no anxiety was well worth it, frankly. I sleep better, I don’t freak out, my moods don’t swing…it’s really lovely.

Although the frequent memory lapses get concerning occasionally.

I’m also very glad I am back into the right writing headspace. I am enjoying doing the work again–memory lapses mean I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed the work and didn’t view it as drudgery, in all honesty. The book is becoming much better as I work through it, and yes, I do have some chapters to write still, of course; but I am confident I can get all of it done by the revised deadline, which is next week. I will be watching football games on Saturday, but will most likely work on the book in the morning before the games start. I can also copy edit with the manuscript in my lap, too. I also need to finish reading The Hunting Wives so I can officially move into Halloween Horror Month, kicking it off with the annual reread and discussion of The Haunting of Hill House, which I consider a perfect novel. I may reread The Dead Zone by Stephen King as well; it has seemed very timely since 2015 to me, and I’ve wanted to reread it again ever since the bloated monster’s escalator ride. (Et tu, UN escalator?) I am also going to work on short stories during October, methinks, because I don’t want to immerse myself in another book while working with my editor on making this new Scotty an excellent read. Huzzah! I’m kind of excited about it, to be honest.

I can’t wait to get my box o’books.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines on this gloomy and rainy day. Hope you have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will commune with you again tomorrow morning!

China

Wednesday Pay the Bills blog, yet again, and I have to remind myself yet again that despite my antipathy towards paying said bills, at least I can pay them and don’t have to worry about it. That’s something in this capitalist hell we all live in, isn’t it? I mean, since all the annoying people didn’t get Raptured yesterday (more’s the pity, seriously), I suppose that’s a good enough reason to keep going, right? There are worse things than just being a cog in the capitalist machine, I suppose, although I generally try not to think in those terms because it’s so incredibly fucking depressing. When I was younger, it very soon became apparent to me that I wasn’t a M-F 9-5 kind of person, no matter how hard I tried or how long I stuck with it…but there was always that moment of is this the rest of my life and all the years stretched out in front of me, with me counting down the days every week until the weekend, I would get a little freaked out, and would shortly after that self-destruct and need to find a new means of employment.

Obviously, the Rapture didn’t happen yesterday–it never does, honestly–followed with the usual rush to explain why by the Believers, and it’s never “we must not have been ready yet in God’s eyes” but something else, always something else. Because the fault could never possibly be with the Believers, could it? Everything is always someone else’s fault with these people, which is an especially egregious lack of responsibility and accountability. I’ve never understood the smug “I’m saved” bragging they always do, too. Um, faith without works is dead? Ever hear that part? You’re supposed to humble yourself before God, and baptism doesn’t free you from the sins you commit after. And the whole “if Charles Manson or Stalin or Hitler asked to be forgiven before they died, they’d go to heaven” thing makes literally no sense. Who would want to go to Heaven if Hitler, Stalin or Manson are there?

Add in the “I have to save YOU and lead YOU to Jesus” bullshit arrogance, and yeah–blasphemy and heresy left and right. It is NOT, per their own Bible, for humans to know when their Lord and Savior is returning. So yeah, blasphemy, heresy and pride/arrogance. Good luck at your pearly gates, apostate. I have a deeply and sincerely held faith that you’re all going to hell. See how that works?

But I had a very nice evening revising the manuscript, and it’s going very well. Hearing Scotty in my head again is a delightful thing, and is making it much easier going. I imagine Paul will be late coming home again tonight (he didn’t get home until after I went to bed, so I don’t even know what time he did come home), so I have the evening free to work some more. I did some of the chores last night, too, and I am going to order groceries to be delivered tonight; I am also treating myself to Door Dash for lunch today. I need to empty the dishwasher and reload it tonight, but I did get the laundry finished, too.

Jimmy Kimmel aired last night, but not here in New Orleans as we have a Nexstar ABC affiliate here in New Orleans. I will be writing to them to let them know I will never watch their station again, and I am going to boycott their advertisers. I don’t even like Jimmy Kimmel all that much and I don’t much care for late night talk shows (Fallon is the worst) anyway…but fuck Nexstar and their censorship. How fucking dare you decide what is acceptable for us to see? Yeah, it’s going to be a very strongly worded letter. I may even share it here, who knows?

And shock! Their offices are in Metairie.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning for sure. See you then!