Category: shopping

Run Between the Raindrops

Monday morning in the Lost Apartment and it’s back to work for me today. Yesterday was kind of lovely. I slept later than I’d intended, but I must have needed ten hours of sleep and yes, as a result I felt quite marvelous all day yesterday. I relaxed and took it easy in the morning, doing some organizing on my computer over my coffee, which also tasted marvelous, and had some things for breakfast. My back up hard drive and all of my storage is in such bad shape, you have no idea. Fortunately I can do searches, but that’s if the file has been named and I can remember what I named it. I have so many picture files that are unnamed…I may never sort them all. I also need to stop collecting images of hot guys because I already have so fucking many of them. Sigh. I hoard computer files, too, what a surprise.

Of course, all I need to do is disconnect the damned hard drive and plug it into my laptop, so when my mind wanders while I’m in my easy chair I can sort the files and make some progress. Du-uh. I really have quite the grasp of the obvious, don’t I? We also had the most marvelous thunderstorm yesterday afternoon while I was working on writing–a plethora of different things; from newsletters to short stories to the book itself. I am very pleased with how the book is progressing–it’s slow going, but I am also very out of practice, and am still adjusting to all of this free time I have now that I’ve stopped volunteering. I honestly had no idea how much time I was spending on it. No wonder I was so tired all the time, and that being tired had something to do with the onset of the illness, whenever it was; my system was worn down and vulnerable. I don’t regret the time spent, of course–like I ALWAYS say, I don’t live a life of regret–but it is astonishing to have time that I can actually waste guilt-free. But now that I am healthy and getting back into the groove of my life again, my sense of joy and my sense of humor are coming back stronger than they were before, too. My illness and hospitalization was actually the best thing to happen to me in quite a while. And while I certainly don’t recommend it and don’t ever want that to happen to me again (not just sick but six nights in a hospital bed), it was the kind of wake-up call I needed.

I also had to laugh at myself a bit yesterday, too, speaking of my sense of humor. I had worked on a short story Saturday afternoon; I’ve had this idea for at least five years and for some reason it started kicking around in my head again on Friday, which is why I started writing it Saturday…only to discover I’d actually started it when I originally had the idea, after all…but now I know what the story is, what the right tone for it is, and that was absolutely some good work I managed Saturday. I had also worked on the book some on Saturday, too, and that also felt good, especially since I didn’t really feel like doing any writing at the time, but managed almost a thousand words without really any drive to write or any idea of what I actually was going to type out. I suppose I could do Jami Attenberg’s A Thousand Words of Summer, couldn’t I? Note to self: order her book.

And the Giants continue to lose, speaking of joy, and what makes it even better for me is to see those bigots are now pariahs in the city where they play. I don’t follow baseball outside of LSU, but I grin every time I hear that the Giant Bigots lose yet another time. I hope those fucks are booed and hated for the rest of their shitty, unwashed crusty ass lives. Newsflash: you’re okay with every sin but homosexuality, which didn’t make your God’s top ten. Have fun in hell–God don’t like ugly, and God don’t like men who think they speak for him, either. My values and beliefs don’t allow me to suppose hateful bigots. See how that works, you punk bitches?

And I wouldn’t be throwing a lot of stones about anyone if I looked like that in a baseball uniform, bitches. You’re supposed to be professional athletes, not the “before” in a gym advertisement. Can’t you look like one? Baseball has pretty much made it clear this summer that they embrace racism and homophobia; all that’s left is for them to demean women like the misogynist pricks on the US Men’s Hockey Team to complete their trifecta of enshittification. Well done, baseball. Way to turn America’s Pastime into a bigot-fest.

Oddly, if MLB has been a horrific disappointment for a fan of sports in general, the World Cup has been incredibly refreshing and fun to watch and experience. Erling Haaland has captivated me, the big goofy Norwegian Viking golden retriever that he is, and I also fell hard for the Cabo Verde team; what an inspiring tournament story they gave the world. And of course, loved the Scots and all the fans from everywhere. The world cup has, of all things, been so heartwarming and enjoyable (I do love seeing people enjoying themselves) and it’s also been lovely seeing the fans enjoying each other as well as themselves. That has been absolutely lovely and healing to see, as well as the hope for the future such things engender. I do generally prefer to be optimistic; at heart, I like to think I am usually cheerful and hope for the best…and I don’t enjoy when people make me not feel that way…which is yet another reason to hate those trashy asswipes who like to bring other people down.

I also love the anti-Trump chants they brought with them, my favorite? Aussie boys here on a bender, Donald Trump is a sex offender! Thank you, World Cup fans, for not letting him make this about his fat shitty ass, the way he will if he makes it to the Olympics in Los Angeles next year. I can only imagine the horrors his goons will unleash on LA before the games open. Heavy heaving sigh.

We had a marvelous thunderstorm yesterday afternoon, the lights even blinked a few times. It’s been a while since we had such a great storm, so I cuddled up with my blanket in my easy chair during the downpours while I worked on my laptop. It was marvelously cozy, I have to say. I’d intended to cook out yesterday, but the rain forced me into a dinner alternative and made something I’ve not made in years–and as I was eating it thought this is good for thrown together but I can make this a lot better which is how I always end up redoing recipes all the time. Some gravy would have been nice…bell peppers. Anyway, the rain was relaxing and calming as it always is.

I am pleased with the work I got done on the book, and the character’s voice is starting to come to me a lot easier and a lot faster than it has for a very long time. We’ll take that as a good sign, won’t we?

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

Sexy Angus O’Brien, one of the breakout stars from last summer’s Boots

Big Life

Sunday and the morning after the holiday; all is well and peaceful this morning in the Lost Apartment. I had stuff delivered yesterday, so I didn’t have to leave the house (I am getting a bit spoiled by all this delivery service, but it’s wonderful and I am not going to stop using it). I ordered everything in the morning and it was here by twelve! Ah, modern convenience. Something good that came out of the pandemic that future generations will thank us for. Who knew that horrible time had a positive impact in some ways? It made for a lovely start to the day, really. Sparky wanted me up early yesterday and rather than resisting his entreaties, I got up and started my day, which was cool. I did some filing and organizing, and I also finished and published a holiday newsletter yesterday, about the 4th of July and remembering back to the bicentennial in 1976, which was very different from what we saw yesterday and what we saw in the time leading up to yesterday. Everything he touches dies, doesn’t it?

Going outside to get the deliveries or take out trash/recycling wasn’t terrible. I may be acclimating to this summer, which might not be a terrible thing. Oh, I’ll still bitch and moan and whine and sweat and feel the humidity sucking my soul out of my body like always, but…you do get used to it. You’re aware of it, of course, there’s no escaping any of that unless you’re inside the blessed cool, but your subconscious is aware that it’s not going to kill you even if it feels as though it might.

I wasn’t able to read any yesterday morning, alas. By the time I got everything ordered and delivered, and had done some of my chores it was past noon. Paul was up and watching Wimbledon, so I broke out the laptop and did some writing on it in the living room, which was nice. There was some good energy in the apartment yesterday. I felt really good and content. I also have some things to order for delivery today, too, which I also hope to take care of this morning. I polished a newsletter that has been sitting in my drafts since late May and will probably get it sent out tomorrow morning (I’ve done two in two days already this weekend, and I am aware it could quite easily be overkill). I also started two more, about more serious subjects, that I hope to get done this month. I need to finish Lev’s book so I can write about that, too. There’s literally no end, is there? There’s also the Half Man one I need to write…where’s my to-do notebook?

I also wrote about a thousand or so words of fiction yesterday, which felt good and was absolutely marvelous. We finished The Big Conn and hey, at least he felt remorse and bad for the victims, which is more than SSA did. WE started watching Sugar which we are loving Colin Farrell yum, love the stylizations and the occasional dips into classic Hollywood, and really like the character, too. Colin Farrell is perfect for this Ross Macdonald/Raymond Chander-style detective show; why has someone not tried filming a Lew Archer with him in it? You know what else I’d like to see? Alexander Skarsgaard playing Travis McGee. We also watched some of Wimbledon yesterday, and probably will watch some more of it this afternoon.

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


The Golden Band from Tigerland prepares to perform “Pregame” on the field. It’s the one with THE four notes that bring every fan to their feet.

Sex as a Weapon

And so the nation turns 250 years old today.

Yes, it’s today: the 250th anniversary of the first signatures on the Declaration of Independence after the states’ delegates ratified it–the birth of our freedom from the British Empire’s Parliament and its King–and while the country as United States was not born until the ratification of the Constitution in 1787 and the first elected officials taking office in 1789, we consider this the birthdate of our nation. We don’t even recognize Constitution Day, which is the true national founding document. As an inquisitive minded child, I wondered about this a lot when I was a child…but it’s Independence Day, not Founders’ Day, I guess. It’s kind of sad how this, an actual landmark anniversary, has turned into such a national embarrassment, but that’s what you get when you hire someone whose only success is hosting a rigged reality show. I mean, he bankrupted a casino. Multiple times. Ah, well.

Yesterday was kind of lovely. I was up early, and got started on chores. Paul had appointments today, so Sparky and I kind of hung out and watched some news (hence the hilarity of the failed State Fair, Fox News’ pretense that everything was going just fine with massive crowds of people, but the failure of the fair has stopped all the algae talk at any rate). Paul went to Please U to get us shrimp po-boys for lunch (I’ve not had one in almost ten years, I think), and they were marvelous. I had some things delivered, and we binged a Kaley Cuoco thriller series, Vanished, which was kind of fun1. Her post Big Bang Theory career has been interesting, hasn’t it? We also started watching The Big Conn, about a criminal conspiracy to defraud Social Security (to the tune of over half a billion dollars), and the people that SSA chose to punish were the recipients2, not the people who actually actively pursued the fraud–the doctor, lawyer and judge who were in cahoots with each other–which is about par for the course in this country: punish the poor instead of the real criminals. And of course, there were two women in the system flagging it all, documenting everything and trying to get someone to pay attention to them–and they wound up punished more than the actual criminals (but the last episode must be about the trial of the one who didn’t take a plea). I’m trying to decide if I need to have anything delivered today, too. I didn’t read, but I brainstormed a short story that’s been sitting in my head for a couple of years and think it might be a good story, if and when I finish it.

I’m up early this morning–Sparky was hungry and wasn’t about to let me sleep late, the sweet little boy. I feel good this morning, too, like yesterday as a day of rest was a very smart decision. I regret not reading yesterday, but I can remedy that this morning, too. I can also get some chores and picking up done, if I stay focused and on top of everything. I did do all the bed linen yesterday, so the bedding felt comfortable and clean and warm last night when I slid beneath the pile of blankets. Sigh. I do love that feeling, you know. I also want to send out a holiday newsletter (more of a newsletter about the holiday) today, which would mean probably writing it this morning, too. I also need to do some filing and organizing, too–like always. But all I need to do is put my head down and stay focused and everything will fall into place. I’m glad I’m up early this morning so I can get a leg up on things–but the temptation to simply collapse into my easy chair is very strong this morning.

I can always justify doing nothing by rationalizing everyone else gets the holiday off, don’t they?

Well, yes, of course, they do–but they also don’t have a writing career on top of their day jobs, do they?

Sigh. I can always spot the flaw in every rationalization I make.

Ah, there’s the caffeine, kicking in at long last. Huzzah!

As I have mentioned before, one of my favorite things lately has been World Cup tourists discovering the abundance we take for granted and enjoying our freedom of choice–as well as the natural beauty and splendor of the continent. We do take our country for granted, don’t we? Sometimes we need an outside opinion of how the US appears to outsiders to remember and appreciate what we have here. That doesn’t mean we don’t have serious problems as a country and culture and society that need to be worked on and overcome so we can finally achieve the ideals the nation was founded upon–but we definitely need to stop looking back and thinking the past was better than the present. It’s also funny how conservatives–the original xenophobes–use those posts from visitors to demean and diminish the Left when we weren’t the ones shouting to the world that America isn’t great anymore.

And on that cheery note, I am going to get some breakfast before I go read for a bit. Have a lovely holiday Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Friendly reminder: it’s against the Flag Code to wear the American flag as clothing. There’s no rule against it being used as a prop.
  1. The big twist at the end was absolutely perfect. ↩︎
  2. For all the whining about Medicaid and Medicare fraud, the truth is the ones committing said fraud are doctors, hospitals, and pharmacies, not the patient. But we only talk about the patient. Isn’t that right, Senator Rick Scott of Florida? ↩︎

Fight It Out

Friday morning and the office is closed for the holiday today, so no work-at-home chores for me today. Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning and I definitely didn’t want to get up this morning, either. I feel a bit worn down today, and a bit foggy, but I’ll be fine once I shower. I was able to leave work early yesterday and run a few errands on the way home (my medication arrived in the mail; had to get another prescription; and pick up my dry cleaning) but I did feel a bit wrung out when I got home. I did some chores (laundry, dishes) and we started watching Margo’s Got Money Problems but didn’t really care much for it, and thus gave up on it. I want to read a bit this morning and do some cleaning around here, and hopefully get some writing done as well. I want to work on newsletters today, too–I have my entry about A Violent Masterpiece to share, and I also want to write about the weirdness of this holiday weekend. They haven’t issued a heat advisory for us yet, but it’s still possible. It currently “feels like” 104 and it’s not even nine yet. There’s a possibility of thunderstorms this afternoon, too. I may have some things delivered today, to get it out of the way so I don’t have to go outside other than to take out trash. That sounds like a lovely plan to me.

It’s hard for me to believe and wrap my mind around the idea that the Bicentennial was fifty years ago; the summer I turned fifteen and was about to start my junior year of high school, starting over again in Kansas, where I stuck out like a sore thumb the moment I crossed the threshold. This is the summer I turn sixty-five, and the country is in a very different mood this time around. Apparently, Ba’al is planning to give an epically long speech tomorrow at the Great American State Embarrassment, and is threatening to go as long as he possibly can to prove that he did. No incumbent president has ever died on July 4th, but at the very least his make-up is going to run–and no telling what will happen to his rat’s nest. However, President Zachary Taylor went to a lengthy celebration of the 4th on a very hot humid day, ate some cold milk and cucumbers to cool down, and got sick and died a few days later.

Dare I dream?

Essence is also this weekend here in New Orleans, and I hope that it’s back to its best form; there were a lot of complaints and some scandals in recent years. Louisiana racists hate Essence Festival (just as they hate Bayou Classic weekend, another Black event), and were pretty gleeful about its possible demise the last couple of years (there are also Quarter businesses that close both weekends, but they’re not racist, wink wink),so here’s hoping its back to form this year and rebuilds back bigger and better than ever before.

The battle between New Orleans and Louisiana rages on, with a grand jury here indicting our criminalistic conservative skank Attorney General for, among other things, abuse of power. Our lovely governor has promised to “pardon her instantly” for any convictions she may get in New Orleans…(that MAGA love and respect for the law and the Constitution on full display here, may they both burn in their own hells for all eternity)…yet conservatives called Huey Long a dictator…when Huey never pulled any of this kind of shit on his own, and he and his candidates always won in landslides. At least the day to day people loved Huey because he fought the 1% to benefit the people–which our modern day demagoguery can’t be bothered with.

I’ve been listening to some old favorites lately in the car as I drive to and from work and around town–albums by Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks, and Pat Benatar from my youth and most of them still hold up today and could be hits. Some of Stevie’s 1980s albums are very much of their time, vastly over-produced like the most excessive Bonnie Tyler hits of the period, unfortunately; I’d love to hear them remade with a more timeless production style.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines for the day. I need to do some chores, and I need to get the kitchen and my workspace back under control. I hope you have a lovely Holiday Eve, Constant Reader, and I hope to see you again here tomorrow morning on the nation’s birthday. Until then, Constant Reader!

Red Vision

Thursday, last day of work this week and I get to leave at two thirty. Huzzah! Holiday Weekend Eve, I suppose this is. I slept well and feel rested this morning, which is good. We’re slow in the clinic today and the way my hours worked out, I get to leave around three this afternoon, too–which is also pretty cool and a lovely way to segue into the holiday weekend. Huzzah! I was able to come home directly from the office yesterday, too, and managed to empty the dishwasher to get a leg up on the chores I’ll need to do this weekend. I did manage to get a newsletter out yesterday, which you can read by clicking here. It’s about my reread of Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water (relisten?) on my trip last weekend, and I really need to finish reading Lev Rosen’s Rough Pages, which I started listening to on the drive back and got to Chapter Eight before getting home and turning off the car. I feel pretty good this morning, which is nice. I know we’re slow today in the clinic, and I definitely need to do a lot of paperwork today–I’m behind again, and our site visit will be coming up soon, either next week or the one after–so I have plenty to keep me occupied at the office today, which is fine with me. I get to leave around two, so the day is going to fly past. I don’t think we’re in a heat advisory today (I’ve not seen anything on line or on my phone so far1) and according to the “forecast,” we’re getting some thunderstorms this afternoon right around when I will be leaving, so that’s great. Since I am leaving so early today, I am thinking about running some errands so I won’t have to do anything tomorrow–but on the other hand, I could just have some things delivered, which is easier still.

Something to think about, at any rate.

Last night we watched this week’s Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, which I don’t see anyone talking much about, which is a shame. It’s really good and I am enjoying it. After that, we caught up on the news but I was falling asleep in my chair so I went to bed shortly after nine and slept deeply and well, only getting up once in the middle of the night before going back to a very sound sleep. I’ve not been very productive this week, but that was because last weekend’s truncation was mentally fatiguing, I guess. I’ve not had much creative thought this week, and I need to get back into the saddle again, I think. Reading tonight and possibly trying to write too should be helpful, and tomorrow I think I will try to be as productive as I can be so I can use Saturday as a holiday and just rest and watch movies and read. I have another newsletter I need to get out tomorrow, and another one to write this weekend (or when I finish Rough Pages). I also want to write one for the holiday, and talk about the difference between the Bicentennial and this 250th disgrace we are witnessing as taxpayer money disappears into a massive grift, like everything MAGA touches. If you can’t capitalize on the stupidity of your cult, why bother having one?

I also need to be even kinder to myself. Of course I am going to be drained emotionally and mentally when I come back from visiting my mother’s grave!

Oy. The depth and totality of my utter and complete obliviousness is really astounding at times.

I saw a debut author had apparently lost their mind on social media and starting doxxing–and encouraging her followers to go after some book club that didn’t like her book. Way to end your career as it’s just getting started. Yes, when you’re new that sort of thing absolutely stings and hurts, and it makes you worry if people will read the review and not read your book. It doesn’t matter in the long run–how many one-stars has James Patterson or Dan Brown gotten? And how has it slowed them down? The answer is not at all. You can’t embrace good reviews while being upset by bad ones, and nothing is a faster trip down the lane of complete and utter insanity than letting reviews get under your skin. I know I used to when I was new, and maybe one will sting when I come across it, but I don’t comment, I don’t bring attention to it, and I dismiss it and don’t even think about it again. I remember one bad review for my first book., and I use it as an example because the end result of that review was me making Scotty being even gayer than I had originally planned…you think Chanse is a stereotype? I”ll show you a fucking stereotype!

And interestingly enough, Scotty–the biggest gay stereotyped character ever written by a gay crime writer–has never been called one by a reviewer.

This is why I no longer read reviews, and have never ventured into the shark-infested waters of Goodreads.

The on-going war between New Orleans and Baton Rouge continues. It’s interesting living under the state’s version of racist homophobic MAGA fascism. I also believe our pos shit Attorney General (who may appear under a slightly different name in the next Scotty book) should be stripped of her law degree because she refuses to abide by either the state or federal constitution and consistently thinks she somehow has the right to tell New Orleans what it can or cannot do; our state Supreme Court all has their head up the Governor’s flat crusty unwashed ass, too and SCOTUS? Not much better.

Sigh. Happy upcoming 4th of July weekend to you, too. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader and hang in there; resist resist resist. I’ll be here again tomorrow morning, without fail.

I love this drone shot of canoers on a bayou in the Atchafalaya Swamp. Ben Pierce is a great Louisiana landscape photographer; check out his website. I always get his calendars. I would love to write about the Atchafalaya swamp someday and its Cajun history.
  1. I stand corrected; we are in a heat advisory until (or if) the rains come. ↩︎

Le Bel Age

So, pay the bills Wednesday has somehow rolled around again, and how? Your guess is as good as mine. It’s also the first of July (rabbit, rabbit!), with a three day weekend on the horizon and we’re over halfway there (oh-oh, living on a prayer). It’s also the nation’s 250th anniversary of independence (or declaring us to be independent of the British Empire), which, of course, has been completely fumbled by the idiots y’all voted into office in 2024. I am old enough to remember the Bicentennial, and it was lavish and elaborate and lengthy. The entire country went Bicentennial. Everything was “Bicentennial this and that or this or that”–commemorative glasses, stamps, coins, flags, posters…Bicentennial Minutes, which were one minute history lessons during commercial breaks, were also impossible to escape (as a History buff, I loved them) and “Spirit of ’76” was everywhere you looked and the country went nuts celebrating itself.

This time? Not so much.

Although we should be grateful the corrupt SCOTUS didn’t overturn the 14th Amendment, that doesn’t mean birthright citizenship is safe. (I do like the thought of lil Marco having his citizenship stripped, along with Ted Cruz.) So glad people listened to Susan Sarandon in 2000 and 2016. Imagine a supreme court with justices appointed by Gore and Obama, and then wonder where we’d be at right now if so many people hadn’t been so stupid four times this century. It’s also kind of amusing to see Democratic Socialists primarying–and defeating–incumbent centrist Democrats who’ve sat by and allowed this to happen. Too busy listening to their donors and billionaires and corporations to give much of a shit while Republicans unraveled the social safety net and helped rape the country. Will they follow their base, or will they continue telling us to “vote blue no matter who”…until they don’t like the blue candidate for being too far to the left. Under a more fighting and aggressive style of leadership, the Democratic Party could end the Republicans once and for all this year and again in 2028; but no, they’d rather be bribed to work for corporatists. Right, Chuck and Hakeem?

Apparently, we need to purge our party as well of these MAGA-lite corporatists. Begone, corrupt beasts! Get thee behind us, Satans!

I slept well again last night. I ran uptown to make groceries (every time I set foot in a grocery store it’s about $80; so glad those prices came down Day One!) and pick up the mail before coming home. Yesterday didn’t feel as miserably hot because the sun wasn’t out–we had a merciful cloud cover all day–and even this morning, when I took the recycling out, I thought oh this isn’t so bad today!

Reader, it was eighty-nine degrees outside. Clearly, I am acclimating to this summer.

But it’s nice to not be physically tired, you know, especially after a trip and eleven hours in the car driving. Oddly it’s more about my brain fatigue more than anything else; those batteries need some more charging, I think–but there’s a marvelous three day weekend on the horizon and I should be able to get some rest and do some things. Tonight I am heading home after work–and I get to leave the office early tomorrow, too, on Holiday Weekend Eve. I did work a bit on the newsletter last night–writing up some thoughts on Blessed Water, and I also want to finish the one on A Violent Masterpiece, which I should have posted about already. I also can’t remember where I was with everything before the trip, so I am trying to get my act together. I also have to pay the bills, too. Heavy heaving sigh. And I think I want to do a newsletter on the 4th, to talk about the Bicentennial and the failure of imagination handling this notable anniversary of our independence…and really, it’s no surprise no one feels like celebrating this country the way we did in 1976.

I do want to finish Rough Pages and move on to my next read. I also need a reread and a nonfiction read, too; I am leaning towards Sarah Weinman’s Without Consent (her writings are always worth reading; and I kind of want to revisit The Real Lolita, too, given that pedophilia is the right-wing aim now), because I actually remember the Ridout case and the moves toward exposing rape and how the victims are inevitably punished more than the perpetrator, like it’s not a big deal….I always want to say to rape apologists, “Bet you wouldn’t feel the same way if someone forcibly penetrated you anally while holding a knife to your throat, now would you?”

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

We’ve been watching Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, and we are totally on the monsters’ team. All the personal melodrama surrounding the characters, with its weird shifts in time and ages of the characters, isn’t terribly compelling or interesting…but the monsters are fucking amazing. Visually, it’s a stunning production, and that’s really all I’ve been looking for this week at night. I think we’re going to binge The Vampire Lestat for the holiday weekend, which I am looking forward to–Sam Reid does such an excellent job as Lestat it’s not even funny. I also really like Interview with the Vampire and all the changes to update were wonderful. Too bad they shit the bed on the Mayfair Witches, which could have been an incredible series instead of a huge disappointment. How could write Michael out of it? How?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again tomorrow on Holiday Weekend Eve. Till then!

Fitness model and influencer Chris Salvatore

Walking in the Underground

Tuesday morning and all is well in the Lost Apartment. I slept deeply and well last night, and as such, feel pretty good so far, at least. I’m alone in the clinic today and I have an almost entirely full schedule, and after work I need to run an errand or two on the way home. Summer is definitely here now–the kind of heat and humidity that just sucks the life right out of you, and even getting cool by going inside isn’t restorative. But I did my chores last night, cleaned the kitchen and did the dishes. Picked up a prescription, and had some groceries made and delivered. It was lovely coming downstairs to a cleaned up kitchen this morning after a restful night’s sleep. Yay!

I did spend some time (more than I would have thought) cleaning out the email inboxes, which got very much out of control while I was gone, and I didn’t even look at it on Sunday–well, I did but recoiled away from it in horror and pushed dealing with it back a day. I was tired when I got home a bit, but got the groceries put away and got the dishes taken care of, at long last. Again, it’s nice to come downstairs to bare counters and an empty sink. I won’t have any chores tonight, but I do have some errands to run on my way home. I still have not adjusted completely to being home, but am getting there. It wasn’t terribly oppressive outside when I get off work (my car did feel like a preheated oven, however) because it had been cloudy all day and so no direct sunlight, which is always brutal. We’re in another heat advisory today–can’t wait to see my next Entergy bill, seriously.

And as Louisiana moves into yet another horrific summer, apparently our European cousins have also been having an insane heat wave which is killing people. One of the more amusing things to come out of the European heat wave is Europeans europe-splaining heat to Americans like we’ve never experienced excessive heat before–particularly the nearly-always condescending British. There was one particularly stupid one I saw trying to explain why the heat is “so much worse over there than in America” because they have humidity. She then used the Southwest climate as proof. Oh, honey, don’t you know in our desert climates it can get into the 110’s and 120’s? Trust me, you condescending superior bitch, you couldn’t handle the dry heat of 117 in Fresno in the summer. And are you seriously telling people who live in the American south, Midwest, eastern seaboard, and New England don’t have humidity? Babe, come try to live in Louisiana without air conditioning sometime. We have this weather every fucking year, and as such, we have things like central heat and air conditioning–which you also mock us for using…then whine when you have to experience what we do every year once in a blue moon?

I also can’t comprehend 80 degrees being a heat wave. That’s our spring.

I was low energy yesterday but I also think a lot of that was food-related; me not eating enough, as I tend to do when I travel. I woke up super-hungry this morning, which leads me to think that I certainly didn’t have enough fuel to get me moving. But I am having a nice breakfast this morning, and I am very hungry. I am trying not to gain any more weight–I need to start doing some exercise at some point–but I also need to fuel my body at the same time. Sigh, I know, I know, I need to eat healthier than I do, or start burning more calories. I no longer burn as much energy when I am not exercising anymore–yay for being older–but some more exercise (even a morning walk around the neighborhood) is better than nothing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow on (gulp) pay-the-bills Wednesday. How is that even possible already?

Where the sidewalk ends in the lower Garden District….

The Victim

Monday morning, you sure feel fine!1 I actually feel decent this morning, if a bit on the groggy side. I was very low energy yesterday, too, sadly; I did get the laundry done but didn’t do much of anything else. We watched more Citadel, but I didn’t have much bandwidth to read or write or do a whole lot. That’s okay, though; I must have needed the down time doing nothing so I’m not beating myself up about it anymore. The heat is going to be miserable for the summer, so I need to just strap myself in and deal with it. Hopefully, I won’t feel as drug out the rest of the week as I do this morning. Friday is a holiday again, too. I just have to get through this week, don’t I? I think we’re busy all week in the clinic too, and I also think I am working by myself most days…and I am likely to end up working by myself in the clinic permanently. Ah, well, it’s only for five more years, right? Then again, I may not survive the next round of budget cuts, either. Always lovely at my age to consider…

Sigh.

My energy is getting better the longer I am awake and the more coffee I consume, which is about par for the course, methinks. I think as I am home longer and get acclimated back to my real life more, I’ll probably start recovering more and feeling more awake and rested and productive. I still have a dishwasher to unload and a sink full of dirty dishes to take care of, “tis life, I suppose. I probably could have (or should have) taken today off, but I also don’t know why I was so worn out when I got home. I didn’t drive that much, and I got very good sleep while I was there. Who knows? Maybe I didn’t eat enough–always a possibility when I travel–and that’s what caused this lethargy. Probably just the disruption to my normal existence, more like.

We also watched Southern Gothic, a documentary series about horrific murders in the south2, getting through the entire season before we knew it. We actually also finished Citadel last night, which is a shame, but that last episode definitely set up the next season. I did have my journal in hand, but didn’t write more than just free associating scribbles. I need to get back on my writing horse and get some of these things I am working on either finished (short story drafts) or serious progress (the book) has been made. I did think about the book while I was driving–those books were amazing–and now just have to get reoriented at work and get my feet down on the ground in the normality of my life again. I need to make groceries–I don’t have anything to bring for lunch tomorrow–and at some point I need to get the mail.

Today’s title, while a song from Pat Benatar’s Seven the Hard Way album (which I need to listen to again at some point; I’ve been revisiting her classic albums in the car lately and enjoying them), has also been used, repeatedly, as a title for books, stories and films. I remember one, a made-for-TV movie with Elizabeth Montgomery in the early 1970s, that I particularly enjoyed, and I’ve always wanted to write a book or story using either “the Victim” or “Victim” as a title. Just using it again here has made me start thinking about a story that would fit said title; but it would have to be complicated and twisty. I’ll probably freestyle some scribbling in my journal this week about it, which could be a lot of fun, methinks.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Sorry to be a bit dull, I promise I’ll be more interesting in the future, okay? Have a great Monday, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

I’ll be your victim!
  1. From “Monday Morning,” written by Lindsey Buckingham for Fleetwood Mac, 1976. ↩︎
  2. It is amazing how many preachers sleep with married women and then murder their husbands. ↩︎

Little Too Late

Home again, home again. It’s hot as Satan’s taint here in New Orleans–Alabama was cool and lovely in comparison and it was hot as fuck up there–I was drenched in sweat getting the car unloaded; something was going on in the ‘hood yesterday because I had to park at Coliseum Square and walk back, which exhausted me and so I just collapsed into my chair and sat there for a bit before showering and relaxing for the evening. We got caught up on Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, which is absolutely delightful (Tatiana Maslany never disappoints; how she didn’t win an Emmy for every season of Orphan Black is yet another example of how wrong they often are) and then a few episodes of Citadel. I slept in this morning a bit, which was also nice, but I feel a bit worn out this morning. I slept very well last night, too. I did sleep well in Alabama, and I am glad I got to spend time with Dad; even if it was so brief. I didn’t do much of anything up there other than hang out with Dad and sleep, but it was nice.

I was very lucky with my parents for the most part.

The drives up and back were lovely and uneventful. I listened to Margot Douaihy’s marvelous Blessed Water in the car, and got to chapter eight listening to Lev AC Rosen’s Rough Pages, which is also excellent–for the record, queer crime writers are consistently knocking it out of the park, people, what are you doing? READ them. On the way up I stopped in Ellisville to get gas an they had a Jack’s (their hamburgers are good good good so you’ll go back back back for more more more) so I ate there. New development on the drive up–my legs stiffened on both drives, making walking when I got out more difficult than it needed to be, but that can also be chalked up to Greg is now so fucking out of shape it’s like he never worked out in his life ever. I stopped at the Love’s at Mile 24 in Mississippi and brought Arbys home for dinner. Paul very kindly washed the bed linens yesterday so I came home to fresh and clean bedding, which was so marvelous. I slept for almost eleven hours last night, and I cannot remember the last time I did that. I feel a bit rung out this morning, but that’s the sleep hangover and some muscle tightness in my legs. Gee, Greg, why don’t you just stretch?

I am oft times oblivious and clueless.

I’m not sure if I am going to do any writing today; like I said, I feel a bit worn today, so I don’t know how that is going to play out. I do need to do some work on the kitchen and living room, too, and some laundry. A rest day to do absolutely nothing would have been lovely, but if I get it all done quickly–and focus–I can get it all under control in a couple of hours…but I really want to get back to reading Rough Pages. I’d like to do my essay on Blessed Water today, but that’s going to depend on my energy levels and how much I can get done around the house, too. I am going to at least finish the chapter I started in the car yesterday and possibly another.

One of the nice things about these trips is they enable me to disconnect from the world’s insanity and get some perspective on things. (The “State Fair” is another humiliation for him and the country; the Lyon County Fair back in Kansas had higher attendance (and better rides and activities)…a county fair. State fairs are a bigger deal than this “national” one. I can’t seem to remember Gerald Ford making the Bicentennial about him, or him coming up with an “alternative” Bicentennial he could make money from…but Republicans in the 1970s put country before party nor were they a insurrectionist movement looking to install fascism back then….these Republicans would have let Nixon serve out his second term. All of where we are now is a result of Reagan, whose money and power above all else mentality began the tribalism, and brought us Newt Gingrich and the divine right of Republicans to rule.

Sigh. And catching up on the news after three glorious days makes it all the more surreal, you know?

And on that note, I am heading for the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. Stay cool!

Bayou sunsets are so gorgeous! I highly recommend they use this color next as the Reflecting Pool cycles through the Pride flag.

I Want Out

I slept in a bit this morning because I don’t have to leave until this afternoon for Alabama. It’s a short trip; I’ll drive home on Saturday morning, hopefully feeling refreshed and reinvigorated and inspired. Spending time in the home place always inspires me somehow, makes me itch to get back to my keyboard or scribble in my journal. I’m going to listen to Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water in the car as a reread so I’ll be primed for the third Sister Holiday novel. I am also taking Lev Rosen’s Rough Pages to read before bed both nights.

This has been an interesting week. I wasn’t terribly tired much after work, and I really didn’t have any trouble getting up all week, either–other than not wanting to get out of the bed’s warmth and comfort–but I even got up before the alarm all three days I had to get up. I stayed in bed longer this morning, but not to sleep–Sparky was being a sweet little purring cuddlebug, and who wants to leave that? Not I, said the deliriously happy cat dad. Sparky purrs a lot more than we think he does, because his purr motor is quiet; you can only hear it if he is sitting on you, or you can feel him purring when you pet/snuggle him. He really is a sweetheart, and very loving. He’s not fully a lap cat, like Scooter was. Sparky is more like Skittle, our first cat. Loving and sweet, but only on his terms.

I ran errands after work yesterday on my way home, picking up the mail and making groceries, but not much (it was still insanely expensive), came home and chilled out for a bit with Sparky while I caught up on the news. Paul came home and we watched more Citadel, which is very interesting and complicated and moves very fast, before retiring to bed for the evening. I feel pretty good this morning, too, rested and relaxed and centered, and it feels terrific, you know? I think I am finally recovered from everything, and I’d forgotten that it was possible to feel this good ever again.

It doesn’t help when medical professionals smile awkwardly and say, you’re just getting older and every time I heard that, all I could think was if this is how I’m going to feel for the rest of my life, I don’t want this.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Although it hit me yesterday, as I spoke with a co-worker about my retirement plans, that I am casually talking about turning SEVENTY in a little over five years. It was kind of unsettling (freaks me out that Dad’s in his eighties, really) for a moment, but then I was like and so fucking what? Sure, it’s daunting; I don’t know what sixty-four is supposed to feel like, but now that I am back to (or almost at) 100% again, it actually doesn’t feel that bad. I don’t feel like I’ve wasted time–although I have, months if not years’ worth of wasted time–because I’ve also learned to know the rhythms of my body and my mind over the years, and when I do waste time it’s because of being tired in some way, either mental, emotional, or physical, and the down time is necessary for recharging.

Making peace with myself, and finally finding my own peace of mind, was actually kind of worth this entire miserable decade so far, actually. As awful as it was to lose Mom, I may not have known I had generalized anxiety disorder and sought help for it had she not passed. (I’d take the anxiety back though, for her to still be with Dad.)

So, some Kpop artist (Mark Lee) whom I’d never heard of decided to wear a Confederate flag shirt–definitely trying to break into the white American racist market, and when all hell broke loose, his record company tried to run some cover claiming it was a “vintage” shirt and no one involved with the photo shoot “knew”? Oh, fuck right off. That’ll play with the racists who would see it as a symbolic dog whistle–“hey, look, Cletus, I know he’s ASIAN but he hates the n-words too!” I don’t know if they actually knew how many flies were buzzing around this horseshit they dropped, but their “apology” was actually he’s just a cute young dumb boy, he didn’t know any better! He’s not from the US! He’s Canadian, he sure as fuck has seen that flag and knew exactly what it meant. It was a deliberate choice, and no one is going to convince me to infantilize a twenty-six year old man. Fuck him, fuck his record company, fuck his fans, and fuck anyone who supports the racist piece of shit. And if any of those excuses are true? Then he’s too fucking stupid to live a public life and deserves everything coming to him still.

Don’t even get me started on so-called “girl dad” Jimmy Fallon for platforming a rapist. He is also trash, and always has been, and he is worse than Jay Leno, which I didn’t think possible.

As for the San Francisco Bitchboys, they continue to pour gasoline on the flames. Hope you don’t need a new taxpayer funded stadium anytime soon! I always have tried to root for the San Francisco major league teams because it’s our community’s capital, but no more. I will buy a black candle, carve GIANTS into it, and light it every baseball season–just doing my small part to curse their future. May their streak of no World Series wins last as long as the Cubs’ streak. I hate to break it to you bitches, but the queers never forgive or forget. So fucking disgusting, and even more disgusting is their fucking cowardice and backtracking and whining about being called bigots. Well the truth fucking hurts, and you know, adultery made the top ten. Were they all virgins when they married? Have they been faithful to wives? If you want to talk sin, bitches, let’s fucking talk sin. How about taking the Lord’s name in vain? (Also a top ten sin.) What did Jesus say about performative faith? You’re not only shitty people but you are shitty Christians. Do you go to church every Sunday, despite games? Do you find churches when you’re on the road? Don’t fucking stand up there and judge sin unless you want your own counted. Judgment is God’s and God’s alone, you heretical blasphemers. Your faith is weak and performative, and I don’t have to accept or respect your hypocrisy. Have fun doing the backstroke when you get to hell, pigs, and I hope your careers all circle the toilet, and may the team always be more mediocre than it is now.

You’re losing because you have issues in your lockerroom, and these fucks are doing the dividing. Enjoy your new status as the MAGA Giants…which were abominations in your precious Bible, the children of angels mating with human women, the accursed nephilim. But then, I doubt any of these slack-jawed inbreds have read the Bible because it’s not written for children.

And on that note, I am really looking forward for this brief interlude this weekend. And on that note, I should probably start getting my shit together to head out today. I doubt I’ll be back here until Sunday, sorry! Til then!

I will never understand why some people don’t find gingers attractive. Look at this wrestler!