Category: revising

I’m Not Through Loving You Yet

Sunday morning here in the Lost Apartment, and how are you doing , Constant Reader? I feel good this morning, actually; a good night’s sleep and a rest day always seem to have this effect on me. I guess the new reality for me is being worn out by the end of the work week and needing a brain-dead day of rest. I feel good this morning and my coffee is hitting the spot this morning. Yay! I hope this means a productive day around the house. I have work to do that I do need to get done, after all.

I was tired yesterday, both mentally and physically. I managed to get the errands run; made groceries at two different stores (!), dropped a box of books off at the library sale, and picked up my copy of Alter Ego by Alex Segura, which I am very excited about. I loved Secret Identity, and there’s no reason to think Alter Ego won’t be better; reviewers are loving it all over the country, and I’m probably going to move it up on the TBR list to the on-deck position behind my current read. So many good books! Which is, as always, a delightful problem to have. Whee! I am very excited about this. I am going to get back into reading fiction, now that I’ve finished The Demon of Unrest–my. new non-fiction read is probably not going to be as smoothly flowing a narrative (White Too Long). I have so many great fiction reads to get to! A plethora of riches to be sure. I am going to work today on some things, and I am going to work on the house some, too. It always seems to be a mess for some reason which is beyond me, but go figure, right?

We watched some of the Grand Prix of Figure Skating finals, which saw US skaters win gold medals in three disciplines–men’s, women’s, ice dance–which I don’t think has ever happened before? This bodes well for the World Championships in March, and it’s been awhile since anyone could say that, really.

I also wound up watching some football games idly, while I read short stories for a contest I am judging. I guess if you were pulling for either team, the games were exciting; Georgia beat Texas in overtime; Clemson needed a desperation field goal in the closing seconds to beat SMU; and even Penn State-Oregon was dramatic. Now on to the bowls and play-offs, which is going to seem very weird. I’m not really sure how I feel about this entirely new, semi-pro look college football is going for, and how it really has always been about greed. Which is a shame–but it always was a farce when it came to all that “amateur athlete” bullshit anyway. Players always got paid, and colleges always looked for ways to justify it or cover it up or exploit loopholes in the rules. It was also interesting seeing SMU in the ACC title game, too–SMU was the only school under the old rules to ever get the death penalty for too much cheating, and it killed the program for decades…so the NCAA became reluctant to use it again. (Ironically, the next college that would have–should have–gotten the death penalty was ALABAMA in the 90’s–and they weren’t ever going to do anything to Alabama that might kill that program.)

When I took the box of books to the library sale yesterday, they asked me if there were any mass-market paperbacks in the box because they aren’t taking those now. They’ve told me that before–and I’ve had to take books out of the boxes before. I still put some in there, just to see if they’ll say no to them, and if they don’t, it does get them out of the house. When did mass-market paperbacks become so anathema to American readers? I loved them when I was younger; they used to be as cheap as seventy-five cents when I was a kid, and I remember their prices gradually increasing until it was silly to not pay the dollar or so mor to get it in trade paperback, which were usually sturdier and more solid editions. Now it’s more along the lines of “the print isn’t big enough” for me, and I suppose ebooks have replaced the mass market editions. I always wanted to write something with my name on the spine in mass market, but never succeeded in getting there–and now they are being phased out completely. That’s a shame.

I was thinking about mass market paperbacks because I was moving books around in the laundry room and came across two editions that are two important books to my younger self; two that I’ve always wanted to revisit as companion pieces to each other: The Lords of Discipline by Pat Conroy, and Dress Gray by Lucien Truscott IV. The former is set at Carolina Military Institute in South Carolina (aka The Citadel), the latter at West Point. I read Dress Gray first, living in Kansas and picked it up at the grocery store, I think. It was a murder mystery set at the military academy, and the victim was a closeted gay cadet. I remember really loving the book, and I don’t remember why I picked up The Lords of Discipline, other than I know we’d already moved to California before I read it. I think I’d watched The Great Santini and wanted to read the book, but the Waldenbooks at the mall only had Lords in stock, so I got it instead, and became a huge Pat Conroy fan. I do want to revisit both books; I’ve been wanting to write a crime novel set at an Alabama military high school–that all-male environment I’ve always found so interesting–but that won’t happen for awhile, at least.

The manhunt for the man who killed the UnitedHealthcare CEO continues, and with every new bit of information released he becomes even more of a folk-hero. Some have started calling him the Adjuster, which is funny, but I saw someone call him Robin Hoody yesterday and that, I think, is my absolute favorite thus far. He’s almost taking on a Batman-like lore amongst the American people; few things this century have united the country as much as approval of this murder has. That says something about the mood of the country, and if I were a politician or a corporate executive whose business model is fucking over the working class, I’d be pretty fucking nervous right now. There’s a bit of a sense of 1789 Paris and 1917 St. Petersburg in the air, and now that corporations and the uber-rich have been screwing us all over for decades with no relief anywhere in sight–if anything, a sense they are going to make it worse for all of us–and no, it wouldn’t surprise me if revolts started up, or more murders of the exploitive class.

It doesn’t hurt if the uber-rich begin to understand that it’s actually not in their own best interest to fuck around with the working class, either.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

The Door

Work-at-home, with meetings on the computer Friday, and woo-hoo, we made it almost all the way through another week. Christmas is nigh–Lord–but the end of the year always seems to come in a rush, doesn’t it? I mean, college football’s regular season is already over (although, given how LSU did this year, it seemed to last a really long time), and basketball started up again last month. It’s also almost collegiate gymnastics time, too. The SEC will be really interesting with perennial power Oklahoma added to the conference this year. The Grand Prix of Figure Skating final is this weekend, so we’ll probably spend some time with that, too. I think I want to watch whatever that new Alien1 movie is, too. I’ve not seen all the movies, but Alien and Aliens remain favorites of mine, so I am always interested whenever they release a new one. The shoddy state of my memory, however, has made reading or watching series (movies, television, books) a tad more challenging.2 But I shall persevere.

It is cold this morning; right now it’s thirty-eight degrees outside. I slept really well last night, so it was most likely pretty cold last night, too. I was exhausted when I left work early yesterday, and so when I got home, my brain wasn’t functional enough to even read, let alone do anything more creative or enjoyable. I am probably not going to leave the house today other than run to get the mail and to get something to make for dinner tonight (no clues on that score, so will have to figure something out). Paul’s going to be gone for most of the day once he gets up. I’m going to try to get my chores done while working (I can go do laundry when taking breaks from data entry and on-line trainings) today, before I dash out to run those two errands and then come home to edit and write and read and clean. Sounds like a good plan. I am hopeful to get some things done while also getting some good rest.

So, the CEO of the absolute worst health insurance company in the country, United Healthcare, was assassinated on the street in New York the other day, which led to some interesting reactions. Some–the vast majority–people celebrated his death; his shitty insurance company successfully denied 32% of claims last year. I’ve never had the pleasure of being covered through that insurer, but working in a clinic and talking to clients about their health insurance–I get to see (and hear) firsthand how bad their coverage is. Some have astronomical deductibles; still others can’t get their (expensive) PrEP labs3 covered by it4, etc. When I saw the news break, I was only surprised that it’s taken this long for an health insurance “profit above people” company executive to be murdered. A few people on social media (you know the ones–the tireless morally superior assholes who love to try to shame everyone else for their very valid feelings) were very quick to excoriate people for celebrating the murder of an asshole who was definitely the last rung on the ladder of responsibility for a lot of people’s pain, financial ruin, and death, wagging a finger in everyone’s face and letting them know that they are the horrible people in this instance. I block tiresome scolds. You’re not my mom, you’re not my priest, you’re not my employer and you’re a total stranger. Maybe you’re lovely in your every day life, but pulling moral superiority in this case? Will you scold people for being happy when odious garbage like Kim Davis or Mitch McConnell die, too? Go fuck yourself, and get the fuck out of my world. As for their mourning loved ones, why is their pain more valid than that of United Healthcare’s victims? They certainly didn’t mourn or feel bad when United’s cruel profit policies killed, ruined, or bankrupted their clients, did they? No, they spent that money and lived high on that ten million dollars a year (plus bonuses) salary, so miss me with their pain, okay?

And in other, predictable news about the murder, apparently they have images of the killer’s face from security cameras, and people swooned and thought he was handsome and hot. Just like the Boston Marathon bomber and Ted Bundy and so many other “hot” criminals. It’s weird. He is handsome, at least the guy whose face was shared from those images–which also made me think he’s a professional assassin; I mean, who else could flirt with someone on their way to killing someone else? Although it does make for an interesting idea–the hot sexy hit man. Maybe a gay one? (See how my mind is?) Anyway, the assassin is kind of becoming a folk hero, which should give all insurance executives pause. In the wake of the murder, Blue Cross Blue Shield–which has just announced a horrific, draconian new policy about anesthesia, quickly reversed itself and removed all the executive and board of directors’ names on its website.

Read the fucking room. The people are not happy. It’s astonishing how these company monsters don’t realize how hated and despised they are…or at least, didn’t. They do now.

It also occurred to me last week–and not just me; someone posted on social media about it yesterday, which made me think about it again–that what we are actually lurching toward is Ayn Rand’s capitalist heaven of no government regulation, no taxes, and completely unfettered capitalism; the billionaires taking the place of her ridiculous notion of “the men of the mind” who, by virtue of their ambition, intelligence, creativity, and drive5, deserve to be in charge of everything because being good to their employees and their customers is “in their best interest.” Hmm, how has that been working out in the last few decades, Ayn? Atlas Shrugged was such complete and total bullshit, as was everything she wrote and the philosophy she embraced, the virtue of selfishness. I was interested in her because I read Anthem in high school, and it reminded me of another, similar type book (I can’t recall the name of it); that interested me enough to read the other novels and her essay collections. I was intrigued, as so many young white men are, by this interesting way of looking at the world–but at the same time, I also quickly saw right through it as utter and total bullshit; what she described as selfishness was actually self-interest, which are not the same things. I’ve long wanted to write about Ayn Rand and her damaging theories, and how the Right embraced her (except for her atheistic hatred of religion), which is part of the reason why we are where we are now as a country. in thrall to billionaires who don’t care a fig for the rest of us. I also wanted to do a compare/contrast essay about Atlas Shrugged and another conservative author’s railroad book, Taylor Caldwell’s Never Victorious, Never Defeated–which came from the completely opposite direction of Rand’s tome…but writing about Rand means rereading her, and shudder, who has time for that?6

Seriously, I don’t need to write about it that badly. Once was enough. Although what I really want to do is totally deconstruct and destroy her essay about literary arts (like anyone who’s ever read any of her work would think she had the right to theorize anything about art). She has a collection of essays about art called The Romantic Manifesto, which, like everything she wrote, is overwritten, pretentious, and more than a little condescending–not to mention completely wrong about everything. That actually might be fun–I do remember how in the essay about literature she raved about Mickey Spillane…if that tells you anything.

And on that note, I have to get ready for my first meeting. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

  1. Alien Romulus, to be exact. ↩︎
  2. As well as editing, as I mentioned yesterday. ↩︎
  3. Since the ACA requires insurance companies to cover PrEP, this is their way around the rule–the labs are incredibly expensive. So, they will cover the medication but not the labs required for the prescription to be written. Never forget, health insurance is the biggest legal scam in American history. Almost like flood/hurricane insurance: “oh, sorry, that damage was caused by a hurricane” which then becomes “Oh, sorry, that was caused by a flood, not a hurricane.” ↩︎
  4. This is nothing more than anecdotal information; I’m just always surprised that my shitty insurance is actually one of the better ones, which is frightening. And inevitably, whenever I ask my clients who their shitty insurer is, it tends to be United–which was one of the options my day job considered for this year. ↩︎
  5. Amongst all the insanities and idiocies in her pseudo-philosophy, her definition of “men of the mind” are people who built companies and wealth by creating a product that revolutionized whatever industry–people like Henry Ford (blech), Andrew Carnegie, etc. Since she worshipped money, I imagine she’d be on board the Musk/billionaire worship train–but they aren’t really “creators” and “men of the mind” as she saw it. Her brains had myopia, alas. ↩︎
  6. A very dear friend of mine once said of Ayn Rand, “Her writing was the least of her crimes.” Succinct and to the point.
    ↩︎

Once You’ve Had the Best

Thursday morning and my last day in the office for the week, which is kind of nice. I get to leave work early today, too. Usually I work too many hours on my clinic days, so I generally shave some time off my work-at-home day and my admin-in-the-office this week. Unfortunately, last Friday was a holiday where I can’t shave hours off, and I had to be in clinic on Monday so I had to stay all day. As I was doing my time sheet for the week, I realized I was going to have to leave early both yesterday and today.

There are worse problems to have, really.

I am more tired this morning than I have been all week, which is about par for the course, really. Because of the above, i get to leave early again today, and tomorrow I get to work at home. I think we have a department meeting in the morning. I’m not sure if I want to drive over to the office for it, or if I should join via the Internet. (My guess right now is I’ll join the meeting on-line so I don’t have to get up earlier; but we’ll see. It seems kind of silly to me to drive all the way down there a half-hour meeting…but I’ve done sillier things before.) I was very tired when I got home from work yesterday, despite leaving early, and I ran an errand on my way home. I did get some work done last night, and hope to get even more done tonight, so I can finish that project no later than Saturday. We also watched Somebody Somewhere, which is a very nice little show, and I am sorry this is its last season, to be honest. It’s very sweet and intimate and small, which is part of its charm, I think. I also spent some time reading The Demon of Unrest, which I hope to finish this weekend as well. It’s very strange, you know; Paul and I were talking last night about how horrible everything is going to be, and I basically said, “My plan is to enjoy myself as much as possible before the inauguration”, which we both agreed was the best plan. The weird thing about The Demon of Unrest is it is all set in the period between the 1860 election, through the transition, and then of course the attack on the fort. The entire country, it seemed, was holding its breath waiting to see what happened when Lincoln was sworn in (there was even concern about certifying the Electoral College vote1). South Carolina and the other deep Southern states (Mississippi, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, and Louisiana) have already seceded from the union–which of course made Fort Sumter a pressure point for both sides; in a way, Sumter was like Guantanamo Bay–federal American property in another country. I’m sure Guantanamo galls Cubans as much as Sumter galled South Carolinians after secession–and the big US flag flying over the fort, to them, was just another Yankee insult to them. So, I am reading a book where the entire country was holding its breath between an election and an inauguration, kind of like we’re experiencing right now. How bad will it be? Will it be a repeat of the last time, only stupider and crueler? Will MAGA prove just as unable (or worse) to govern as they did the last time?

I’m so glad the so-called “patriots” are so delighted to have our government and system undermined and/or destroyed; certainly damaged and broken more than they already are. I’m really looking forward to my first tank of $1.25 gas and 25 cent cartons of eggs. (Sarcasm, obviously we are all going to be looking back to the “horribly high” prices of this past year with a tragic yearning.)

With no football games to care about this weekend, I hope to get back to working on my own book as well as getting some reading done. It’s nice that the flood gates have opened and I am finding the joy in reading again, which is quite marvelous. It also gives me hope that the writing, once the dam breaks there, will be much the same. I started making a to-do list yesterday, which was an amazing step in the right direction. I am hesitant to say that I am going back to my pre-whatever self–old selves are sadly gone–but I’m hoping I’ll be able to get back on the writing horse in a new way. Maybe the days of three thousand words per day are gone, and I have to come up with a new system rather than the old tried and true one. Cha-cha-changes! I’m already noticing that I need to find a new editorial system to replace the old one, which I am finding to be a lot more problematic than it used to be, so I can’t go as quickly as I used to–which I need to remember when telling someone a timeline for when I can get something done by.

I kind of am feeling a bit on the lower energy side–it is Thursday, after all–but I get to go home early today, so I think I’ll be able to get the work stuff done that I want to–I can sit in my easy chair and edit with my lap desk–so I’m not worried about that aspect of today’s lethargy, and usually once I get started I get going with a very real determination to see the day’s workload through. All in all, after a very long break and a very short work-week last week, this return to a normal length work week hasn’t gone terribly, overall.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Thursday be as lovely as you, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

  1. It has all happened before, as always. ↩︎

Midnight, Me and the Blues

Wednesday, and it’s Pay-the-Bills Day. Yay.

Heavy sigh.

I faced up to some hard truths about myself yesterday. I knew I’d kind of coasting along and letting things slide and not really giving things my full attention, and that’s kind of been where my mindset has been for–well, for longer than it should have. Snap out of it, Gregalicious. But at least I was cognizant of that yesterday, which is a step in the right direction. I did get some progress made on work I have to get done soon, but I was very tired when I got off work yesterday and flagging by the time I got home from the office. (My day job is pretty routine for the most part every day. Some days are harder, though, and take a toll on me. Yesterday was one of those days; clients with needs beyond the usual normal work day, and those can be difficult to navigate. I felt great most of the day but by the end of my shift I was very drained and tired. The sometime emotional labor that is necessary to do my job wears me out, which is another reason why I’m not giving my emotional labor away anymore. My two jobs require a lot of emotional labor, and I just don’t have enough reserve in the tank anymore to waste, and so, have to guard it jealously.)

Yesterday I realized I’d been in a weird headspace since my trip up north and the election, which means there was some subliminal depression buried in my head showing itself in a weird kind of paralysis where I couldn’t really motivate myself to do much of anything. Generalized anxiety disorder is very sneaky. I think what happens is that when the depressive side of my brain starts firing off synapses up there, it’s like the anxiety takes hold of the depression and deepens it, all the while never being in the forefront of my mind so I can be aware that is going on–and because I don’t actually feel depressed, well, that doesn’t mean that I am not in a depressive state. It’s always kind of worked this way, now that I am thinking about it with a much more clear head this week (Monday was the last day of the lethargic malaise this time around). I also don’t want to have to add another medication to the chemicals I am already putting into my body more than once a day. I appreciate better living through chemistry as much as anyone, but at the same time…I don’t want to be taking more things if I don’t necessarily need them, if that makes sense? These malaises–I’ve had them before, of course, and usually they show up in the wake of finishing a major project, and I just assume it’s the letdown from no longer needing to use my creativity in a focused manner and it needs to recharge. I guess the malaise is kind of an emotional lull? Being in Kentucky and being in Mom’s house is always challenging; I just keep expecting to see her in the kitchen in the morning when I go for my first cup of coffee and it’s a jolt to remember oh yeah, she’s not with us anymore and I also give a lot of emotional energy to my father while I am there. That, the election, and the drive home–yeah, it’s not really surprising that I went into a malaise. But yesterday? Yesterday I did kick myself back into gear and dove into a project that needs doing, like last week, but I am making good progress and should be finished a week late this weekend. I was very tired when I got off work, but I am feeling like I am back in the saddle again, and there was no way I was going to get anything done last night anyway while I waited for Paul to come through the front door.

I’m taking that as a win, thank you very much.

Paul got home right around nine last night, which was delightful. His travels–usually a problem–all went smoothly (thank you, Secretary Pete) and he was in a pretty good mood. Sparky and I were both very happy to get back into our lives again, and Sparky was so glad Paul was home that he slept in the bed with both of us. There’s something about the regular breathing and heartbeat of a sleeping pet pressed up against you that is so incredibly soothing, isn’t there? I know Sparky sleeping in my lap while I recline in my easy chair always has a calming, settling effect on me as well.

I spent some time with The Demon of Unrest last night while Sparky slept in my lap (and didn’t like that I was reading at first, gnawing on a corner of the book and trying to get in between me and the book before circling a few times and laying down). It’s really quite good–I need to read more of Larson, clearly–and is the kind of history written the way I would have liked to have written about it, you know? It’s actually grabbed my attention away from my fiction read, which is saying something; I’ve always felt that History that is written in a more reader-friendly way, like The Demon of Unrest, should be more of a thing. Barbara Tuchman was really good at this, too; which is why I enjoy reading her so much (A Distant Mirror remains my favorite non-fiction history read of all time). And since I don’t have football games to watch this weekend, I’ll have time to get things done on Saturday–cleaning up around the house, reading, writing, editing–and as I said the other day, I don’t really care that much about the play-offs this year. I might get sucked into it yet, of course, but right now I am kind of relieved the season is over so the easy distraction is gone. It was a very weird season, too, which should get a recap at some point (maybe after LSU’s bowl game) because it’s so weird.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely mid-week day, Constant Reader, and I may be back later, though I doubt it. I have errands to run tonight after work (yay), and I imagine after I am done working tonight, Paul and I will start catching up on our shows again.

I just adore Cooper Koch, and am glad he, too, is having a moment as an exceptional young and out gay actor. He was exceptional in Monsters.

Hang in There, Girl

Sunday morning and the last day of my little staycation. It began with stomach distress, and is ending on a morning where I feel pretty good and rested. I didn’t do much of anything this entire time, other than chores and some cleaning and filing and organizing, but while not pushing myself to an insane level, I hope to get some things done today. I am punishing myself by not allowing myself to watch today’s Saints game; I am also going to try not to turn on the television itself until after five sometime this evening. Yesterday I ran my errands in the morning and did some more cleaning around the house while listening to music, and then turned on the television for football games. I watched some of Tennessee-Vanderbilt (was really pulling for Vanderbilt), some of the Iron Bowl and some of Arkansas-Missouri, and then watched LSU-Oklahoma for the grand finale of the day. The Tigers won (yay!) 37-17, and there were some upsets–Ohio State lost to Michigan again; Syracuse upset Miami; South Carolina surprised Clemson–so it has, indeed, been a wacky season. I also finished reading The Rival Queens, which was a lot of fun, and started reading my new fiction read (Winter Counts by David Heska Wanbli Weiden, which I’ve been wanting to read for several years now; lovely man, too) and my new non-fiction read, Erik Larson’s The Demon of Unrest, about the lead up to the fall of Fort Sumter after Lincoln was elected president. It’s very good–I love Larson’s work–and it’s kind of timely, particularly in reference to the division in today’s country, and it’s been a while since I’ve read a Civil War narrative (the last was Gore Vidal’s Lincoln), so it’s kind of interesting to dive into it.

I am going to try to do some writing today. I want to reread Hurricane Season Hustle again, and pull everything together on it, as well as to start perhaps revising some of my short stories and to finish an essay for the substack; I have several percolating, but the one I am leaning towards working on is “Recovering Christian,” which is about my relationship to religion and to God, really, and how being groomed to be religious as a child can be very detrimental to that child’s well-being. Ooooh, look at me taking on organized Christianity. ’bout time, as some would say. I remember when, growing up, the rules for polite society and conversation were that you never talked about money, religion, or politics. It certainly hasn’t helped anything that these things have all so much in the zeitgeist, ever since the unholy marriage of evangelical Christianity and the Reagan Republicans. I always took freedom of religion and the separation of church and state very seriously; reading so much History, particularly of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when the soil of Europe was soaked with blood over faith (The Rival Queens details that struggle in France after 1559) had a lot to do with it, just as that recent history drove the founders to put up explicit blocks to keep government and religion from being poisoned by each other–which is where we are now. Modern day Christians are driving believers away even as they grasp for more power.

I also figured out yesterday that the reason I was so lethargic on Friday was because it was too cold in the apartment. I was shivering yesterday morning–it was colder yesterday morning than it was Friday–when I remember, d’oh, the heat works properly now so I switched the upstairs and downstair thermostats to heat and within an hour, the apartment was toasty and warm and bearable. It is lovely again this morning (thank you, heater!), but I can also tell it’s cold again this morning–the windows around my desk always let me know how cold it is outside! (When I think about how much we used to freeze around here until the old system died…) In fact, Sparky is a kitty puddle in my easy chair right now, curled up inside the folds of the blanket resting in the chair–he’s always needier and cuddlier when it’s cold. He wouldn’t leave my chair yesterday, even when I’d get up for something to eat or drink–he stayed inside the blankets and waited for me to come back, which he never does. He usually runs ahead of me into the kitchen every time I get up to beg for food or treats or both. He also started trying to get me up around five this morning.

I am not berating myself for using this time off to rest and recalibrate and to get ready to sprint to the end of the year. I’ve got some chores to do this morning, but I am going to read for a bit with my morning coffee first, get cleaned up, and then try to seriously tackle this downstairs, which has been out of control due to my own laziness for quite some time. I need to take these rugs out and shake them, then replaced and vacuumed to within an inch of their life, and I also should do the stairs. Paul will be home Tuesday night (thank God), and then we have a few weeks before the disruptions of Christmas and New Year’s. A new year of horrors is coming; hard to get excited about that, you know? But my role in the resistance this time is to call out bullshit and lies and bigotry whenever I see it or experience it. If it makes me a target, it makes me a target; as a gay author, I am already on a list somewhere, you can be sure of that–my money’s on the Family Research Council, anything that has to do with that fetid Dobson family, and Tony Perkins. So, if they are going to come for me anyway, may as well go down swinging.

And on that rather somber note, I am heading into the spice mines for the rest of the day. I may be back later–I’m debating doing a post on The Rival Queens–but will most definitely be back tomorrow morning before I start my new work week. Have a lovely Sunday, and I’ll talk to you later, Constant Reader.

Love Potion Number Nine

Saturday and it’s cold in New Orleans. We were supposed to have a cold spell on Thanksgiving, which didn’t happen, but the mercury dropped suddenly overnight Thursday and it was very cold here yesterday–and even colder this morning. I didn’t get much done yesterday, other than the bed linens and my review of Lavender House, which I did finish reading yesterday morning (it is superb; I cannot encourage you enough to read it if you haven’t already) and then spend some time trying to decide what to read next. I picked out some books that look like fun reads–there’s one in particular I am leaning towards–and then spent the evening reading The Rival Queens, which I finally fished out from between the washer and the dryer; there’s slightly less than an inch between the two machines, and Sparky1 loves nothing more than knocking stuff from on top of the dryer down into that crevasse. The Rival Queens has been down there for a few months, and yes, it took me that long to fish it–and the other things–out of there. (My nasal spray for allergies/sinus issues–something new–was also down there, hence the need for me to spend more than a few moments trying before giving up in frustration.)

I’d also forgotten that there are big games this weekend; today is Ohio State-Michigan (won’t watch), and the Iron Bowl are on today before the LSU game tonight against Oklahoma in Baton Rouge (first regular season meeting between the two; the last time they played was that insane 63-28 win over them in the play-offs for 2019 where the score was 49-14 at half-time), so I probably am not going to get a lot done today other than some reading and some errands and some cleaning. I do need to make groceries today, and pick up the mail. I was thinking about trying to drop off books to the library sale, but they may not be open–which isn’t a big deal; I can either leave the box in the car for a week or bring it back inside (not likely). The refrigerator and all these cabinets/drawers in the kitchen all need work, too. There are also any number of chores that still need to be done around here. I did spend some time making notes on short stories yesterday, and so I’m hoping to get some writing done today and tomorrow. We shall see, shall we not?

I just can’t get angry at myself for using this long weekend to rest and relax and recharge, you know? And it is very cold in here this morning. It’s going to be mostly in the sixties during the day and forties at night until they average between high sixties during the day and low sixties after dark later next week–normal for this time of year down here. I’ll probably do some more business stuff this morning that I need to take care of–paying the bills and making a grocery list–and then I’ll probably go to my chair with my new book and get under the blankets for the day once I get home from doing all of that. I am going to try to write in my chair with the laptop–if I could just normalize using it while I am in my chair instead of the iPad, which is really getting very slow and probably needs to be replaced, which isn’t going to happen. A new iPad is not in the cards for me for a very long time, thank you very much. Since Apple products are made in China…imagine how much more they are going to cost with a tariff! Especially since Apple will take advantage of said price increases to up the price even more, as all corporations do, as we learned during the “supply chain issues” from the pandemic. Price gouging is a disgusting thing, but it’s something we all have to get used to once again.

I was better off in 2024 than I was in 2020, but hey–why not vote for racist sexist homophobic authoritarianism when you can blame it on the price of eggs and pull the old “it’s the economy” fake out when it’s really the racism and sexism and homophobia you’re really embracing. Maybe a significant portion of the population honestly believes that somehow things are better under Republican governance; all I know is they are incredibly bad at it, have proven this time and again (Reagan, both Bushes, the Tea Party, MAGA) by tanking the economy repeatedly–but all those bigotries are really more important than anything else to almost fifty percent of American voters, which means that once again the bad Americans are slightly outnumbering the decent ones2. Pundits are now apparently bending the knee, and MSNBC is desperately trying to center itself as the resistance for ratings again–which is exactly what they were hoping for this past summer as they repeatedly shivved Biden and Harris and threw yet another election to MAGA. #FAFO, MSNBC and CNN. Your audience let you pull this bait-and-switch in 2016 and fell for your manipulation, which failed in 2020 and you went all-in on again on the same bait-and-switch on your audience. Sorry not sorry, progressives eventually learn. The legacy media overplayed its hand by putting its thumb on the scale for money and power–and are finding themselves abandoned, high and dry, as they should; they have betrayed their mission of journalism and so betrayed the country. They are soulless corporations, and let’s face it–any pretense at populism led by a corporation is corrupted by the corporation from the start.

Sigh.

If only we could learn to live up to and respect, rather than paying lip-service, to the ideals this country was founded upon.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and who knows? I may be back later. Stranger things have happened before.

  1. Unlike Scooter, Sparky is like Skittle when it comes to knocking things off counter tops or any flat surface. Scooter wasn’t a normal cat, he was just a big lump of orange lap cat. ↩︎
  2. Just like before the Civil War! No one really cared about slavery in the north until the South fired on the flag, period–if anything, emancipation was more of a religious movement, about morality–and once they were free, everyone abandoned them to the mercies of the former enslaving aristocracies and the resultant monstrosities of Jim Crow. SO, how much did Northern whites care about Blacks? Not very much, and probably far less than they do today, which isn’t much, either. ↩︎

Nowhere to Run

Friday morning after the holiday, and were you able to get through it safely without killing a MAGA relative, Constant Reader? I have to admit it was kind of nice spending the day by myself. Sparky and I had a very nice time hanging out, and he spent a lot of time in a kitty puddle in my lap, with only the occasional change into Apex Predator Pounce and Attack mode. I wound up watching some research videos on Youtube, going down wormholes and putting me in mind of yet another project in the files, heaving heaving sigh. I also spent more time with Lavender House, which continues to be marvelous–another one I am reading so I can savor everything about it. It was actually kind of lovely, to tell you the truth; Sparky certainly was enjoying himself. The cold spell we were warned about for Thanksgiving arrived over night, actually; it’s only 49 degrees outside right now and I could tell when I get downstairs this morning. Brrr. It also explains how well I slept last night, and why I am up so early this morning, too. Not even seven, and I am already here slurping coffee and typing away. I feel very rested, too, and good, even. I want to get things done today, and I am going to make A List. I am going to spend some time this morning reading more of the book, and I have some other reading/editing to do, and maybe, if I am lucky I can even get some writing done, too. There’s some more cleaning that needs to be done, and the bed linens need to be laundered as it is Friday. I survived the holiday alone, and it was actually kind of nice. It was always Mom’s holiday, the one I would usually go to Kentucky for, and that’s part of the reason last year I had my surgery two days before the holiday–I figured being drugged up and recovering from a major surgery was the best way to get through missing her last year, and this year, I did get sad a couple of times but overall, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

I think I managed to cope with Thanksgiving very well these last two years.

There are some football games on today, but no one I really care too much about. I may put on the Egg Bowl this afternoon (Mississippi-Mississippi State) because it’s usually a wild game, but who knows? It depends on where I am at with everything I want to do today. I’ll probably not get everything done that I want to get done–that is the Way–but at least I get to be at home on this cold November morning. In fact, curling up with my book and my blanket in my easy chair sounds 100% like the best option for this morning.

I did manage to think through the revisions of another couple of stories last night, which was rather cool. My productive mind is still working, I am just not turning that work into actual writing production, which has always been an issue (I’ve never been able to keep up with my mental creativity) for me, but I am enjoying writing in my journal and thinking about my writing. I do love writing, and I hope I’ll be able to get back on the horse completely. I can’t remember the last time I did three thousand words in a day–but then I barely remember yesterday, so it could be as recent as a few weeks ago. I’ve also been avoiding the news a lot these last couple of days, which has also been lovely. I have become very cynical and jaded about a lot of things since the election, to be honest. I’m still a bit concerned about what exactly is going to happen now that Incompetent Evil has taken over the country, and what that means for my future–but I only have space to worry about mine and Paul’s. The rest of my life means my emotional work will focus entirely on Paul and I; and my writing is about to become a lot more important and get a lot more of my focus and energy going forward. It’s astonishing to me that I always let other people put their needs and wants and desires ahead of my own career. How stupid was that? I always say I don’t want to have regrets, but I do resent and regret that.

I did manage to get caught up on my two Housewives shows–Beverly Hills and Salt Lake City–which was incredibly fun. I try to figure out the appeal of these shows, and why I find them so compelling, almost constantly. I don’t consider them guilty pleasures–as my friend Laura says, “you shouldn’t feel guilty about anything that gives you pleasure”, which is pretty fucking true–so much as I wonder why I get so addicted to them, in much the same way as I would get addicted to daytime and prime time soaps when I was younger. There’s a parallel there somewhere, but I just haven’t managed to get my brain to figure that out so I can write about it. I might watch something tonight–movie or television series–but haven’t really decided yet.

And on that note, I am going to my chair with my book to get under a blanket and read for a while. Have a lovely Black Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. No one is ever really for sure about anything, are they?

Thanksgiving Prayer

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Or, if you prefer (I do), Happy Native Genocide Eve!

I am spending this one alone, here in the Lost Apartment by myself, and that’s fine. Yesterday was nice. I didn’t feel as bad when I woke, after a good night’s sleep, and by early afternoon my stomach stopped aching even a little bit. It embarrasses me to admit this, but I think I was actually malnourished! I’ve not eaten dinner once this week, and I didn’t really eat much on Sunday, either–so I went into calorie deficit, and whatever I ate wasn’t enough calories to keep my body functioning properly.1My blood sugar drops, I get all post-nasal drippy, the drip makes me feverish and cough, and I feel, overall, like crap. I caught up on my eating yesterday morning and lunch finally made the ache go away. Seriously, not very smart. But it’s fine this morning and I feel like myself again, thank the Lord. So, with my unexpected extra day off, I wound up having a very nice and relaxing day around the house by myself. I’m rarely ever home alone for an entire day, let alone a week, so the novelty is still kind of nice and fun and oh, yes, I can do whatever I want whenever I want, can’t I? I did listen to Orville Peck yesterday while I did some cleaning. The downstairs is pretty much done; I just need to do the floors and move some furniture. I also worked on an essay2 and did some reading yesterday, which was nice. I am taking today off from anything and everything–it is a holiday, after all–and the days when I used to feel guilty for doing nothing all day are in the past. I’d also completely forgotten it was Rivalry Weekend in college football, when anything can happen in a football season that has already been wild and wacky and full of crazy upsets. LSU plays Oklahoma for the first time in the regular season this Saturday night in Baton Rouge, so that should be interesting; Oklahoma just trounced Alabama, who trounced LSU a few weeks ago. Obviously, you can’t tell anything by common opponents (LSU beat Vanderbilt, who beat Alabama. Go figure).

So, Thanksgiving. I’ll have a fancy turkey sandwich later–probably open-faced, with turkey gravy poured over it–and when I finish this, I’ll probably go read some more of Lavender House, which is phenomenal and I am loving. I’m seeing the influence of the masters–Chandler and Hammett–in this, and it is absolutely amazing. I am not going to pressure myself to do anything today or feel guilty about not doing things. Besides, I am not capable of doing nothing all day–I’ll do something, at any rate; whether it’s cleaning or pruning the books or organizing a cabinet; I’m like Mom that way. I still have to edit a manuscript this weekend, and I’d also like to reread what I have done on Scotty, maybe even get back into writing that manuscript. I puzzled out how to finish and revise a novella and another one of my short stories–both need to be harder, colder, more hard-boiled and sly and mean-spirited, frankly. I’ve enjoyed this novella because it’s about a dysfunctional relationship that has a truly sad ending. The problem with both, I realized, is that they are from the point of view of someone who ends up committing a crime, and it’s really about how everything leads up to that moment, so I had the voice completely wrong in both, which is the missing piece I’ve been looking for now for quite some time. So, while I am not actually writing anything fictional at the moment, I am doing some brain work on my fiction, and sorry not sorry, THAT COUNTS.

But the whole point of this day–the “wholesome” America rah-rah-rah version, at any rate–is to remember and be thankful for your blessings in this life, and not focus on the hardships you’ve faced. There’s definitely a bit of Christianity and white supremacy baked into that particular American mythology, which is why some (me) half-jokingly call it Native Genocide Eve, because it was the last time European colonizers were grateful for indigenous help, and before they started slaughtering them–whether it was through out-and-out gunfire or disease. The truth left out of the US creation myth is that it was all about conquest and colonizing. I don’t think learning about that is nearly as disillusioning as being taught one thing as a child and then learning as you get older that it’s all justification and lies. Europeans had no right to the Americas, and they took the two continents with violence, prejudice, and genocide. The foundation of our country was built upon white Christian supremacy.

Why is that so hard for people to accept or admit? The truth is, we have been dealing with “alternative facts” most of our lives. Talk about miseducation!

But back to my thankfulness. Obviously, first and foremost, is that I am grateful every day for Paul. What a remarkable person he is, and how lucky was I, with all the people in the world, that somehow I wound up finding the perfect person for me, like I’d ordered from a menu? I miss him when he’s not here–I’ve kind of been thinking about Dad, living alone after losing Mom, up there in the house they shared together for the last twenty-five years of their lives together, and can really understand and relate. I usually can handle the first few days whenever he goes on a trip anywhere, luxuriating in the novelty of living alone (which I’ve never done). Usually by the third day alone (technically tomorrow) I start feeling the loneliness and realize ah, this is what it’ll be like if he goes first 3, which is “I can do this when I’ll have to (again, no choice).”

I am very thankful to be living in New Orleans, the only place in this country that has ever felt like home to me. I love this city even when I complain about it. It’s a bit hard to explain, but I think it has something to do with having the same mentality about life and death that I’ve always had: enjoy today because you could be gone tomorrow. One thing that always bugs me on a molecular level is putting off joy till later. Um, there are more than enough things in life to make you forget about joy, so why inflict it upon yourself? Katrina emphasized that even further–you could lose everything you have in a day and have to start completely over. I’ve moved around the country enough, starting over, that having to start over again at my current age isn’t desirable, but I’ve done it enough times over the course of sixty-three years that I know if I have to, I can. I am also very thankful for that hard core of resiliency baked into who I am.

I am very thankful for my writing career. It’s what I always wanted to do, for as long as I can remember, and even when I get frustrated with it, or wish I had done something differently…well, there are any number of people who wish they had my career, and despite the fact that my writing career happened because so many things that needed to happen for it to happen, happened. I think part of the reason I never took my career as seriously as I should have from the very beginning is because luck and good fortune made it happen, which also makes me very aware of how it can happen. But…that doesn’t, and shouldn’t undermine, the story of my career trajectory. I’ve been nominated for awards almost thirty times, and have even won on occasion. Some writers never get nominated for anything. Some writers never progress past the dream stage. I’ve gotten incredible reviews, and I have some absolutely devoted readers that I am thankful for every damned day. I also think part of the depressive state of the last year or so has everything to do with me not writing much during that time–I am always happier when I am writing fiction, no matter how much stress and anxiety is involved with the writing of said fiction. I’ve pretty much been able to write whatever I want to write most of my life, too.

I’ve also been blessed to be able to know some amazing people, and to call them friends. They are an amazing support system, and they believe in me as a person, as a friend, and as a writer. It’s kind of sad that I didn’t learn what it was like to be or have a good friend until I met Paul. I always have this deep down feeling that no one actually does like me–the PTSD of growing up in a very homophobic society–but I am getting so much better about that.

I am thankful that I have the life I never knew I truly wanted, or could have imagined, during the rough times.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy your holiday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later, one never can be sure, can one?

One can never go wrong with a shirtless photo of Nyle DeMarco, can one?
  1. Believe it or not, it’s a thing for me; it has a lot to do with fear of gaining weight and the nagging sense that I always need to lose at least ten pounds. I’ll write about that at some point. ↩︎
  2. On the “bury your gays” trope, for the record. ↩︎
  3. Not really the first time; there have been any number of times over our almost thirty years (!!!) together (next summer) where I’ve had to face the possibility of losing him and spending the rest of my life alone (I don’t need a companion, and no one will ever be like Paul to me, just like no one could ever replace Mom for Dad) multiple times already. ↩︎

Strange Things Happen

Remember that stomach thing I had going on yesterday morning? And it had resulted in my not sleeping well? Yeah, well, I was very miserable and tired all day at work, and my stomach just felt worse and worse and worse. I finally left work early, came home, and just chilled out. I also took today off as a cautionary measure. So far so good, and here’s hoping I am rested and can do something with this extra free day that so unexpectedly dropped into my week. I think it means some time with Lavender House, and I do need to clean this messy kitchen up, beginning with the laundry room. Maybe I can put on some Orville Peck while cleaning. I’m really enjoying his music.

Last night I watched the first half of the Ken Burns documentary Leonardo da Vinci, and I quite enjoyed the fact they didn’t try to shy away from his sexuality or try to straight-wash him, like Da Vinci’s Demons did (still enjoyed the hell out of the show, anyway) and so many other shows and movies have, but actually talked about his male relationships quite openly. That was rather refreshing. I’ve always been interested in the Renaissance, and with Leonardo and the great Michelangelo as well. I was thinking about this while watching last night, ferreting out of my brain’s fading memory banks where my interest in Italy came from, and I was able to peg it properly: when I was ten I spent five weeks in the South, including about three at my paternal grandmother’s on a bay in the panhandle. Her second husband loved nothing more than a good flea market, so we often went to them, and I got to buy books for pretty cheap. I remember one time I got two books: one, a lovely but crumbling old edition of a biography of Francois I, King of France; and the other a book called Italy in the Golden Centuries. I think maybe I also got a turn of the twentieth century translation of a history of France; it may have been on that same flea market visit or another, but it was the same summer. I was in my Tudor/Stuart phase at that time, but that July I started learning about France and Italy…both of which were way more interesting than English history. There was a hammock strung between two massive live oak trees in her backyard, dripping with Spanish moss, and I would lay there in the shade with the cool salty breeze from the bay and the steady lapping of water, and just read. It was wonderful. I could have spent the rest of my life in that hammock, reading. The connection between Italy and the French kings, the great artists…since we went to Florence I’ve had this idea for a book I want to write about a lost piece of Michelangelo’s art, going back and forth through the movements of the piece through time and the present day thriller of trying to find it in the present day while others (BAD GUYS) are trying to beat them to it. (I love that kind of shit.) I may even take a stab at this sooner rather than later. I mean, it sounds fun–but my word, the research! And of course I would need to return to Italy for research purposes, wouldn’t I?

I also have been doing the weirdest research for a future book project you can imagine: I’m watching Youtube compilations of television ads from the late 1960’s through the early 1980’s, and it is fascinating how many of them I remember–and can sing the jingle along with. I may have hated the ads–still do–so I guess they were effective? I don’t know if they ever shaped my buying choices and decisions (price is always the most important factor, and store brands are no different from name brands; Costco’s brand is better than most competitors), but I sure do remember them. That’s kind of the grounding in the period that I need to write about it, to trigger memories of what I watched and what was going on and what kinds of bikes did kids ride and music did they listen to and games did they play. Going down this memory hole has been interesting, because I am also having to revisit those periods of my life from the perspective of a much older and very much more tired gay man who really hasn’t developed a whole lot of wisdom about either myself or life in general, but I can see things I couldn’t then. Perspective? A little amusement about how things that didn’t “exist” then that we know about now and I could have been medicated for all those years? Yeah, I can’t be bitter or mourn something that never could have been. And despite how much I grouse and bitch and moan and complain like the old man I am now, I am very pleased with my life and where I am with it. My mom always said (some of her stuff was wise, some of it was kind of horrible, but it was always absolutely real) you can’t have regrets if you’re happy, and I think that is very true. And examining my own history is kind of not painful anymore in that context, if that makes sense? I always never wanted to look back because it seemed like I always got angry when I did–but I wasn’t really being angry; because I am not angry about it anymore. I do remember the anger, the pain, and all the emotional rollercoaster ride that came with it. When I tell the stories, whether face to face or write them on here, I do channel that emotion again into the telling to make it clear just how horrible it all was and how horrific it felt. I guess I can write passionately, and I do not think that’s a bad thing at all.

I am having fun writing the essays, too. I am having fun writing again. That is very pleasing in my eyes. And I am hoping all this free time (five days off in a row) will get my butt in this chair and writing. Sparky hasn’t quite figured out Paul hasn’t come home yet, so he’s not super needy yet–but I am pretty sure that moment is nigh. I slept so good last night, y’all, and it’s nice to wake up feeling so good this morning. This kitchen/office is an utter and complete disaster area, and I definitely must do something about it sooner rather than later. I think I’m going to finish this, start straightening up, and then repairing to my chair to spend some time with Lavender House (it really is quite superb), and I think I’ll finish watching the Leonardo documentary today, too. Heavy sigh. I may even try to write later on too. #madness

And maybe I’ll even finish assembling my desk chair. It’s been about a month since I bought it and started putting it together only to get frustrated and walk away from it before I took a sledgehammer to it. I may even put that on the top of my to-do list.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving Eve, and I may be back later. One never can be sure, and I have a lot of free time to myself over the next five days–except, of course, for my darling Sparky.

It Ain’t Me Babe

Ah, it’s Monday and I am up early, swilling coffee and getting ready to face down a very short, and most likely slow, week in the office. Paul is leaving tomorrow for a week, so tomorrow I’ll come home to a quiet, empty house. It’ll be weird, of course,1 but I am going to try to keep busy. I do have a lot of homework2 to get done this week, and hopefully Sparky won’t be near as needy as he always is when it’s just the two of us. Sparky has, at long last, starting sleeping in the bed with us, always in a kitty donut down by my feet, which is very relaxing. He’s been there the last several mornings when I wake up, which is nice. He’s also started cuddling and sleeping with Paul on the couch–like Scooter, Sparky takes turns with our laps when we’re watching television; unlike Scooter, Sparky starts with Paul for a while before curling up in mine for the rest of the evening. It only took just over a year, but we finally have the cuddle bug we wanted. He still only purrs when he’s riding my shoulders, draped around my neck–but he’s getting cuddlier, and there’s more head-butting by the day.

I had a very relaxing day yesterday, but didn’t get nearly as much done as I wanted to–like always. Still reeling from the power of The Reformatory3, I started reading Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen. I am absolutely loving it. I love the voice, I love the main character, I love the writing, and so I know I am going to really love this book–and once I get going, it will be unputdownable. Yay! And there’s two more in this series, too, which is very exciting–not to mention all his other works, in y/a and romance. Paul spent most of the day working upstairs, and leaving me on my own with Sparky for most of the day. I finished my entry on The Reformatory, and worked on some writing, mostly thinking and taking notes. I’m glad this is a short work week, and am looking forward to some lovely down time here by myself. I made progress on the apartment this past weekend, and will probably get some more progress made over this coming long weekend4.

I need to make a to-do list, and to get better organized, but I made progress. I have a manuscript to edit, some short stories to read and judge for Saints and Sinners, and my own writing to work on around here. Sparky will be needy the whole time, and I am going to watch the new season of Heartstopper, before diving into Sex and the City. I’ve also found some movies to watch over the weekend, too–or in the evenings when I get home from work tomorrow and Wednesday. I’ve also got my Housewives shows, and there’s always some cleaning to be done somewhere–not to mention more pruning of the books and the storage attic.

While I was driving around doing my errands Saturday I started listening to Orville Peck’s music on Spotify, and I love it! I have yet to hear a song of his that isn’t a bop, so I saved several of his albums to my library and am going to start listening to him more regularly in the car. I’ve always liked all kinds of genres of music; there just really hasn’t been any country outside of Dolly in a while that I’ve been interested in. I also kind of hate how country music has been taken over by the Right and MAGA–I’ve never forgiven country music for what it did to the Chicks, and they were RIGHT–so I try not to listen to much of the newer stuff. Country music used to be about outlaws and fighting the man holding down the working class, instead of being a bunch of appeasers and collaborators.

They’d shun and cancel Johnny Cash today for being woke. How fucking sad is that?

They must really hate Orville Peck for being openly gay–even though they really embraced Li’l Nas X when he was doing country music back in the day…until he came out and switched genres.

I don’t know what to think about what’s coming, but it’s pretty sad that the only thing standing between us and authoritarianism are the courts, Senate Republicans, and the administration’s utter incompetence. Paul and I have made up our minds to enjoy ourselves as much as possible between now and the transfer of power; who knows what’s coming after that? These are dark times indeed, and a lot of damage can be done by utter incompetence and a program of complete and utter unfettered cruelty. I think the biggest shock for me of the election is that self-absorption and unbridled hatred of anything not straight, white and cishet was actually embraced by the country.

Then again, this is a country that wasn’t able to legislate or vote slavery out of existence, and it took a war. The appeasement of slave-owning Americans from 1787 through 1865 will always be a stain on this nation’s history, and by not dealing with any of it, or systemic racial oppression, by not facing the truth in all its brutal ugliness, we’ve never been able to progress as a racially diverse nation or move on from it. (I always love when Americans take the moral high road when talking to or about other countries; like we have any room to talk about oppressing citizens and human rights violations? Bitch, please.)

Sigh. And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. One never knows!

  1. I’ll never understand how someone can take up so much space, and how much bigger and emptier it seems when he isn’t there. ↩︎
  2. Writing and reading and editing, oh my! ↩︎
  3. Which might be one of my favorite novels of all time, period, regardless of genre. ↩︎
  4. I am planning on simply cleaning the bathrooms on Thursday morning, and having a very lazy day doing little to nothing other than reading and binge-watching television series; I’ll push myself the other three days. I can also do things at night this week once Paul departs tomorrow morning. ↩︎