Category: shopping

Volcano

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. We’re also going to be busy in the clinic today, so I am not going to have time to do much around my clients. Which is fine; last week was slower than usual so it’s no big deal that we’re booked heavily this week. The weekend was lovely and relaxing, which was precisely what I needed. I got to see friends on Friday that I don’t get to see as often as I would like, which was lovely, and while I may have been more tired than usual on the weekend, I did have a nice relaxing weekend and got a lot of things done. It rained overnight Saturday into Sunday afternoon, which was lovely despite the lack of thunder (I always prefer thunderstorms to just rain). The temperature dropped after the rain, too–and I think it may have rained some overnight. I definitely woke up to a sinus revolt this morning. Thank God for Claritin-D, which has made my life ever so much better. It’s going to be in the sixties today before heading back into the seventies as the week progresses.

I got up late yesterday morning–it was the rain, seriously, because there’s nothing better than being in bed snug and warm while it rains–and didn’t get as much done as I would have liked, as always. I did do some of my chores before Paul got up, and got groceries ordered and delivered in the mid-afternoon. We then went back to The Night Agent and binged that for the rest of the day. I still have chores to do, of course, and I need to make some groceries on the way home from the office today. I also have to get some of these chores done/finished tonight, but it will depend on how I feel when I get home from the office today, and how needy Sparky is when I get home.

But it was nice having a lazy Sunday, you know?

I did some writing planning yesterday while watching television, and worked on some newsletter ideas. I think I have finally found my way into the essay series about masculinity, and I have a great idea for another. Yes, one should have been completed and sent this weekend, but I am going to try to shoot for Wednesday this week and then another this weekend. I’d like to keep the Wednesday/weekend duality going forward (unless I’m not here), and missing one delivery date here and there isn’t going to disappoint anyone other than myself…which is how it should be, actually. As Cher says, “I only answer to myself and God.” (And since I don’t really believe in God…)

I also watched Clown in a Cornfield yesterday. One of my streaming services (Apple) suggested it to me; I’d forgotten it had been filmed and released last year (I think I knew? I’m not sure), so when I was reminded of it yesterday I thought hell yeah, let‘s watch! The movie was fun–nothing anyone needs to break their leg rushing to go see–but it was an absolutely competent slasher movie. They left out a lot of the societal and political stuff that was slyly slipped into the book and made it so delightfully wicked. I suppose it was unnecessary to the overall point of the movie–slasher fun–but that also lessened the delivery of the big twist to the story. The young cast was good, the dialogue sharp and witty, and it’s a pleasant addition to the canon. There are two sequels to the novel now; I read the first one but haven’t gotten to the third part of the trilogy. I’m also looking forward to streaming Scream 7 when it’s available.

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

I will never tire of taking pictures of New Orleans’ marvelous live oaks

Every Which Way But Loose

Happy Easter to all who celebrate, and a happy Sunday to those who do not. We do not celebrate Easter, but we do recognize the Easter Bunny and candy because who doesn’t? My favorite parts of “Christian holidays” are inevitably always the parts appropriated from pagan holidays. Funny how that works, isn’t it? It’s also raining, and I slept in later than I’d hoped to. Sparky eventually got impatient waiting for me to get up and scratched my face near my left eye, and while I easily and happily could have slept longer, I am glad I got up. I feel rested, which is very nice, and relaxed. I didn’t really do a whole lot yesterday; I ran my errands and got home in the early afternoon and basically chilled for the rest of the day while Paul was at his office and the gym. He got home in time to watch LSU Gymnastics to win the regional final. They didn’t have a great meet, but still almost broke 198.00–which is incredible. After that we started watching Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen, but the first episode was just weird and odd and un-involving, so we moved on to season three of The Night Agent, which is a very fun action packed high energy international intrigue thriller. Gabriel Basso, who plays the lead, is very sexy, too.

While Paul was out, I watched a couple more episodes of season 4 of The Traitors. I am really going to enjoy writing about the show, but I definitely have to outline the essay so I don’t forget to talk about something I find interesting. Yesterday’s watch reminded me of how The Traitors somehow pulls off something I wouldn’t have thought possible–redeeming people I have disliked in other media. I was resistant to watching this particular season (which was still airing when we started watching) because I hated both Lisa Rinna and Candiace Dillard from their time on Real Housewives; but I really enjoyed them of The Traitors. Same with Colton Underwood; I didn’t love how he came out after his time on The Bachelor and it seemed like the powers-that-be thought they could make him–a very pretty blue-eyed blond white man–into THE Gay Celebrity, especially given his problematic past. I actually wound up liking him on this show, and maybe I should go back to his reality series about coming out and “learning to be gay”; I’ve been wanting to watch through some gay-base reality shows I’ve watched and how terrible they inevitably are (Drag Race being the sole exception). I’m also, while rewatching, remembering how Alabama Rob charmed us all–and seeing the seeds of Rob and Maura’s bond (it literally goes back to episode one) being planted makes her loyalty to him at the end make more sense; she really wasn’t his “dicktim.” (That’s another interesting thing about rewatching; you pick up on things you didn’t notice the first time through.)

After getting the mail, I swung by the Fresh Market on my way home, which I usually don’t mind as far as grocery stores are concerned. It’s slightly more expensive, but it’s never crowded and the customers aren’t nearly as annoying as the ones at Whole Foods (I get highly annoyed every time I shop there, which I why I don’t). But it seemed like all the entitled rich old white people somehow got an alert that they needed to go to the Fresh Market and show their whole asses. I was quite relieved when I put my bags in the car and skedaddled away from that portal to hell. I never do a big shop when I go there–the slightly more expensive thing–but I love their meat counter (lots of fresh meat options there) and they also sell Jelly Belly jelly beans there by weight. I love me some Jelly Belly jelly beans, but I stopped eating them when I got sick last year and haven’t bought any since. I snacked a bit on them last night and yes, I still love them. I just cannot overdo it with them because the goal here is to lose weight.

I also mailed some books yesterday. I still have two more copies to send out, and one to drop off Uptown, but I also did very little around the house yesterday because I was being a bit on the lazy side and relaxing. I’m going to try to do some cleaning today–at least get everything picked up and put away–and I am also going to try to do some reading this morning. I also want to try to get a newsletter out today, and I know which one I am going to try to get taken care of; I want to talk about Christa Faust’s Derringer Award nominated short story “Hollywood Prometheus” from Crime Ink: Icons. (I did find a way into my essays series about masculinity yesterday, too, but I want to think about that introductory prologue essay and let it marinate in my brain for a few days.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and clean up this mess of a kitchen and work space. I also have to balance my checkbook–always a joy–and do some other thankless tasks so I am not behind on anything anymore. Heavy heaving sigh. It’s also supposed to get cold later today, too. Woo-hoo!

Sexy fitness model and BGEast wrestler Rio Garza

To Be a Man

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and the Crescent City Classic marathon is already under way. I wound up staying up later last night than I usually do; I was doing the bed linens but was interrupted by my plans for the evening–I was social last night–and had to finish them when I got home. I fell asleep in my chair waiting for the last of the blankets to finish, and slept deeply, restfully, and extremely well. As such, I slept in later than I usually do, but that’s okay. I am going to run some errands today as well as do some chores around here. Paul is going to be out for most of the daylight hours; he has things to do at the office, is going to work out with his trainer, and so will most likely not be home until the early evening, which is also okay. I want to take it easy for most of the day, to rest, but we’ll see how things go. I also need to finish a newsletter; I am trying to stick to a weekend/midweek schedule. Ideally, there would be two per week, but that doesn’t always happen, does it? I need to do better with that, don’t I?

I survived getting up early and going to the office yesterday, and managed to survive both the meeting and doing some things around the office that I won’t have to do Monday before coming home to do quality assurance on paperwork while starting all the laundry. (The downstairs is a complete mess, and so will need to do something about that today.) I met some friends for a cocktail before heading uptown for my dinner date at Gautreau’s, which is somewhere I’d never eaten before. I had the roasted broccoli salad (with pine nuts, shredded cheese, and a delicious vinaigrette) and had the braised lamb linguini in a pesto sauce. My word, it was delicious, and I also allowed myself a very dry martini with my meal before catching a Lyft home. I have started a rewatch of season four of The Traitors (because I want to write about it and the entire phenomenon of the show), and even though you know who wins and who gets banished/murdered ahead of time, it’s good for rewatching because you forget things. Example: I hate Michael Rappaport so much I’d blacked his presence on the show out of my memory. (And whatever anyone’s opinion on Colton Underwood may be–and I do have several–he really is ridiculously beautiful, and that needs to be said.)

I also feel like I have to point out, as a fan of both Heated Rivalry and its cast, that I finally caught Connor Storrie’s new commercial for Verizon, filmed in a delightfully horror style, in which his butt is the actual star (and to be far, it is an incredibly nice one) and shows not only how talented he is, but also how charismatic. The camera is in love with him, and we all benefit from this. I am really looking forward to following his career as it grows–that of the entire cast, really. I haven’t gone completely parasocial–fandoms are pits of despair and neediness that should really be studied–but I am rooting for Mr. Storrie and the others to really become major stars. I don’t need to know everything about them or what they’re doing or any of that other invasive shit fans indulge in, but…I am a fan.

I really do feel rested and relaxed this morning. My legs are a bit more tired than I would prefer, but that’s okay; after I do the things I want to get done today I am planning on spending most of my day in the easy chair with the laptop and a book, and of course at five, LSU continues its quest to make it to the Elite Eight in gymnastics tonight in the regional finals. But I do really need to clean up down here before I leave the house to do things.

I’ve also added today’s title as a prospective title on the list of essays I want to write in a series about masculinity or the newsletter. I keep saying that, don’t I? I’ve been thinking about this topic–masculinity–for quite a long time, but I also want to talk about it clearly and concisely, and it’s all my perceptions anyway. I’ve always been reluctant to write personal essays about things I am interested in because I don’t consider myself an expert on anything, but I know a little about a lot of topics. Does anyone need another essay about The Great Gatsby? Probably not, nor am I known as a scholar on any subject other than my own personal experience, and I’ve often doubted or questioned my own experiences and perceptions. But writing has always helped me sort things out, processing everything to deal with it as well as make up my own mind.

Hmmm.

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

The side patio bar at St. Vincent’s in my neighborhood, on Magazine between Orange and Race streets

My Destination

Wednesday!

I felt a bit more tired this morning than I did yesterday morning, and when I creaked out of bed my legs did feel a little bit tired. It also took a moment for the coffee to kick in and get my day going. I wasn’t tired at all yesterday, not even after stopping to make groceries on the way home. Paul was also home, which was super-great; it’s nice when we’re both home in the evenings, and I’ve missed that. We started watching this latest (and last) season of The Comeback, and Lisa Kudrow kills it as Valerie Cherish. Now that we’re back to normal, we can start getting caught up on all the shows we watch that have dropped new seasons, and there are new shows to get started watching, too–we shouldn’t have any issues with not having something to watch for a little while, at any rate.

I sent out a new newsletter yesterday (click here if you want to read it!) about twenty-plus years of Scotty. As I said recently, for decades I kept myself too busy to think much about the past and avoided it at all costs. But being so sick regularly (whether it was an injury/surgery or illness) these past few years forced me to sit with myself and thinking back. Maybe I should have done this all a long time ago? I don’t know, but I am sitting with things now, and letting go of some anger I’ve been holding onto for too long. I’ve never been big on self-reflection, and focusing on myself just always seemed selfish, if that makes any sense? Reminding yourself when you’re going through something that there are still people worse off than you are is also kind of self-defeating–if you don’t look out for yourself, who is going to? And I am enjoying the peace, frankly. Maybe I should have opened the door to selfishness sooner. Anyway, I feel mentally at peace (as much as anyone can with the world burning to the ground around us) and I intend to protect that at all costs. It’s also nice having down time, where I can just pet Sparky and watch whatever catches my fancy on my television. I need to get better still with time management, but last night when I got home I did a load of dishes and ran the dishwasher. I also need to pick up the kitchen and living room a little bit. Since today is April 1st (yay for April Fools Day) and this weekend is Easter (staying home on Sunday for sure)…it’ll be interesting. I have a dinner date for Friday evening with a friend in from out of town, so that should start my weekend off nicely. I do have to come into the office Friday morning for a department meeting, but will probably run some errands on my way home to get them out of the way once and for all.

But it has been interesting these past few years recognizing why I do certain things the way I do (it’s usually an anxiety coping measure I no longer need), and recognizing that some of my similarities to my mother were because we both suffered from generalized anxiety disorder.

Well, well, well, cosplay Kristi Noem just got so publicly embarrassed and humiliated that a smart woman would disappear forever from public life…but I don’t think that’s going to happen. In all honesty, I don’t care what her husband is into, and while yes, I can see how embarrassing and humiliating that would be for anyone, it’s really nobody’s business–and I might even be willing to not point and laugh if she wasn’t a completely garbage human being. You want privacy, bitch? Renee Good’s and Alex Vretti’s families would like to have them alive and well, and why aren’t they, you Nazi piece of shit? Fuck you now, fuck you tomorrow, and fuck you forever. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to explore these options, Crusty, if you weren’t fucking Corey Lewandowski. And how and why did these images leak now? If someone on the left had them, they would have come out before she was fired from her latest job. So…it stands to reason this leak came from her side of the aisle.

It also stands to reason that these lockstep MAGA politicians who love the taste of shoe leather and shoe polish probably have dark or embarrassing secrets themselves and are being held in line with blackmail.

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

Oscar winner Michael B. Jordan

I Think I Like It

Tuesday morning and I woke up before the alarm went off, and only hit snooze once. I actually feel pretty good at the moment–we’ll see how long it lasts, won’t we–and so am hoping for a pretty good day. Taking yesterday off was pretty wise, as I felt like I was a dragging a bit yesterday. I did manage to get some things done yesterday, too, so I feel like this shortened week is already off to a pretty good start. My Achilles tendons are still a bit stiff and complaining this morning, but that’s okay; I shall ice them again when I get home tonight. I do have some errands to run after work–I need to swing by the grocery store on the way home, because I don’t have anything to have for lunch this week. (Today’s is leftover pizza from last night.)

We had some marvelous thunderstorms yesterday afternoon–not much rain, but insane thunder–which also made being inside feel ever-so-cozy. I spent the morning doing some things–organizing, starting work on the laundry, cleaning the kitchen–and then Paul came home from the hotel (hence the remaining loads of laundry) and after he finished unpacking and resting for a while, we watched the world figure skating championship for men and ice dance. I ordered a pizza for dinner, which was marvelous, and after that was over, watched some of the news to get a better grasp on where we are at in this burning down of the world that is now national policy.

It’s always so lovely on the weekends to not pay attention to any of that, and just let my mind relax and be a bit free.

I also watched some documentaries about little known victims of royal inbreeding–and surprisingly enough, they weren’t all Hapsburgs. All European royals are inbred, of course, and they still have a habit of marrying cousins. The Hapsburgs are simply the most notorious for it, because they didn’t have any issues with uncle-niece marriages, which is just, frankly super-gross. I mean, imagine your children’s father is also their great-uncle. Yuck, and it’s not surprising the Spanish line died out from the inbreeding. The seventeenth century, which saw some of these uncle-niece marriages, saw the Bourbons, Hapsburgs and Stuarts also marrying double-first cousins amongst themselves, so even going out of the same breeding pool brought in “fresh” blood that was also inbred. It’s a wonder all the dynasties didn’t die out because of such a contaminated gene pool.

I also spent some time yesterday thinking about the next Scotty book and getting back into writing again. Will I actually do any writing this week? Stranger things have happened, and it’s really not surprising that after S&S I am deep in thought about his next adventure; I also realized the first Scotty came out just before the first S&S, so they are connected in my subconscious. I am almost hesitant to even talk about writing again, as I do and then the mood passes or I can’t make myself actually do it. This is why I haven’t named the book I am going to read next–because I still haven’t started reading it yet and I don’t want anything to think it’s the book’s fault rather than my own limited attention span. The infuriating part is I know that if I was reading more, my brain would probably function better? I should also start watching Jeopardy again. Anything to sharpen my mind…which could use all the help it can get, frankly.

But it’s back to reality again, with me heading into the office and adjusting back to my every day reality, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I feel rested and awake and able to face the day, which is a good feeling, and I should succeed at being productive today.

And on that note, it’s back to the mines of spice for me. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back here tomorrow for another exciting update!

There’s always a tacky-looking strip club just around the corner in the Quarter–and what a great story prompt that sign is!

Cool the Engines

Monday morning and I am at home instead of at the office so I can recover from yesterday. I had a panel, a reading and inducted Trebor Healey into the S&S Hall of Fame. It all went well, I was able to grab lunch with Rob Byrnes, Jean and Gillian, too. By the time the reception was over I was worn out and exhausted, so grabbed a Lyft and headed home. Sparky was incredibly needy when I got home, and I just collapsed into my easy chair to watch some news and things before stumbling up to bed, where I slept insanely well. I had some lovely conversations, ran into and got to talk to some friends I’ve not seen in a long time (hey, Tim!) and over all, exhausted as I was at the end of the day, I think I played the weekend properly. I’m a bit physically and mentally tired this morning–Sparky let me sleep in–and so it’s going to be an easy day of rest around here today. Paul will get home from the hotel later on today, and things will go back to what passes as normal around here once he’s home. Huzzah! I am kind of looking forward to some normality, to be honest.

I have things to do at leisure today–laundry and dishes and picking up–and I am going to spend some time reading this morning once I finish this. I think I’ll read until the laundry is finished–three loads–and then commence to other things. I was also thinking about writing a lot last night when I got home; events like this do tend to remind me why I love writing and being a writer, and my brief appearances this weekend, and listening to authors talk about their craft (I’d never met or heard Christopher Castellani speak before, and he’s very smart) is always inspiring. S&S isn’t like any other literary conference/festival I’ve ever attended because the whole weekend is really about connecting with other writers and readers and inspiration. Douglas Sadownik is also an excellent speaker, by the way. I read Sacred Lips of the Bronx a million years ago and don’t remember it, but it may be worth a revisit.

I may try to watch that manosphere thing again, but I don’t know that I can stomach it. I mean, I have an entire essay series planned for my newsletter about masculinity, so I should watch it as research; I have no interest in the straight manosphere because it’s predicated on grift, illusions, and takes advantage of lost young men by telling them this is the proper “lifestyle” for a man to achieve. The young men aren’t all right, as the last election showed us, but the reason they are lost is because they hold on to old-fashioned notions and theories about what masculinity actually is. Anything I know about these people I learned without my consent–I’m still reeling from my supervisor bringing up “looksmaxxing” and me having to look into it because I didn’t know what she was talking about (ignorance truly is bliss sometimes)–and I wish I’d never heard of most, if not all, of them. I could never put this into fiction, I don’t think, because it’s all so idiotic and unbelievable you can’t make this shit up if you wanted to, and I definitely didn’t want to. Maybe I can find a nice true crime documentary instead.

Or I could watch The Mummy Returns, since I rewatched The Mummy the other day. These really are marvelous films, if extremely colonial in their point of view. Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz are marvelous together and should have made more films together; I remember the first time I watched The Mummy thinking, “oh, they are perfect for Peabody and Emerson!” and whenever I read another one of Elizabeth Peters’ marvelous Amelia Peabody series, I pictured them as the leads. I really wish a British production company would start filming those books, because Americans would ruin them. (Heated Rivalry would be a completely different show had it been an American production, and wouldn’t have blown up the way it did, either.)

Anyway, I am looking forward to a peaceful, easy day here in the Lost Apartment, and hope you are having a lovely day, too. Safe travels to everyone heading home from S&S today, and of course, I will be back here tomorrow morning bright and early in the dark. Until then, adieu!

My guess is immediately after this photo shoot the model ate a pizza.

24 Karat Gold

Sunday and later I have to head for the Quarter for a panel, a reading and the closing reception. I am so glad I took tomorrow off! Just thinking about the day ahead makes me tired. I was very tired yesterday but ran some errands, including picking up my copy of Enemy of My Enemy, the new Daredevil novel from the always delightful Alex Segura and making some groceries. I tried to be productive yesterday but fell into a vortex of laziness and rest that carried me through the day until I went to bed last night. I didn’t want to get up this morning, either, and Sparky was very insistent. I don’t have a lot of time this morning before I have to get ready and summon a Lyft to the Quarter. I don’t resent the wasted time yesterday–I did watch some of the figure skating–but will definitely have to recover while being productive tomorrow.

I am very glad I took tomorrow off.

I did start watching Inside the Manosphere yesterday, and didn’t last very long before I was nauseated and disgusted and had to turn it off, and I don’t even think I lasted a full ten minutes. We do very much live in the time of the grift, do we not? It seems like everywhere we turn, there’s a grifter trying to con people out of their money. I would say we are heading for a grift economy, if we aren’t already in one. The Fed said the Treasury is insolvent this past week, which is nothing new; the Treasury has been insolvent for decades now, no one has bothered to make it known. I know this is a conservative point, but the national debt isn’t a credit card where we can keep raising the limit every year. This means the truth is the world economy is really just smoke and mirrors; the United States cannot pay its debt but calling the loans and a default would collapse the world economy, so the credit ceiling keeps being raised, kicking the can and a world-wide economic collapse down the road so someone else can deal with it. (This was the thinking of the French Bourbons in the 1780s, and how did that work out for them?) I don’t have a problem with cutting federal spending, but cutting it from things that do not benefit the American people. Funny how that is always the first thing that needs to be cut, not the billions of dollars pumped into our military and into other countries as bribes to be our allies.

I don’t think there’s much benefit to being an American ally these days, is there? What do Qatar and the UAE and the Saudis and Kuwait think about that now? And of course we can’t even be certain that the news we are getting about this stupid new war is actually true, now that our mainstream media has become so deeply corrupted and untrustworthy. I’ll never trust CBS, CNN, or any of the big papers ever again. I suppose this regime has done the country a favor by showing how hollow and false and misplaced our trust has been in the institutions that supposedly make our democracy stronger. And once you see the pattern of American exceptionalism in the way we are taught to view our history and that of the rest of the world, the institutions crumble beneath the weight of the lies they’ve been telling us for years. Once you see it and the scales from your eyes are gone, you can’t unsee it, and you question everything you know.

One of the things about this decade and what I’ve been through on top of everything else we collectively have been through has been being forced to stop and slow down and think about everything. Having COVID in the summer of 2022 physically forced me not to check or answer emails or take phone calls or write or do anything other than watch television, and think. That illness and enforced rest made me realize I wasn’t very happy and I wasn’t enjoying my life anymore (or my authorial career) and that it was time to start making some changes…and after that initial illness, there were so many other times I was forced to take time off–surgeries and recoveries, etc.–and I was able to start examining myself and who I am and why I am the way I am, and to decide that ultimately the only person besides Paul that I am responsible for is me, and I am the only person who can make my life better and more peaceful. I started sorting things out for myself and dealing with my own issues, figuring out a lot of things I never took the time to do before, primarily because I didn’t want to examine any of this–and I think that I stayed so super-busy so I would never have time to think and process because my down time was spent resting because I was exhausted. I didn’t do a lot of chores or reading or writing yesterday mainly because I wanted to free up my brain to rest and think clearly and prepare. I’ve made peace with a lot of things over these past few years, and my mental health and my peace of mind is the most important thing in my life going forward.

And on that note, I am going to get ready to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Pyramid of the Soothsayer, Uxmal and there’s no way I would climb that thing

Belle Fleur

How is it pay the bills Wednesday again? Yesterday was a decent day, and I was worn out and fell asleep in my easy chair around nine while Paul packed. He’s moving into the Monteleone today for the Festivals, so I have been left alone to deal with a lonely kitty with abandonment issues. I ran my errands after work–my next dose of medication for my next injection arrived–and did another load of dishes and picked up a bit. I also watched a few episodes of The Traitors New Zealand–but it’s too early in the season to really decide anything about it yet. I was impressed they voted a traitor off at their first banishment, but I suspect it will be a while before they get their next one.

I wrote my newsletter essay about Mississippi Blue 42, which you can read here. I really enjoyed the book, and it made me think a lot, not just about college football, but writing about sports authentically. There are just so many hokey tropes and clichés in sports that are easy to fall into–the plucky kid who never plays but wins the big game; the poor kid using sports as a way out of poverty and to get an education; the big game that comes down to the final play; the big comeback; and on and on and on. But that’s the thing about sports, though–you can see a trope play out in a game on your television every weekend. Eli Cranor addresses some of these in the book, but handles it in a way that makes it not feel tired or overused, but rather inspired and fresh and new. That’s a skill, y’all–Eli Cranor is a real one. Add him to your reading list–and if you’re not a football fan, the writing alone is good enough to appeal to everyone.

Since Paul won’t be home tonight, when I get home from work I have to get used to Paul not being here. His work schedule is incredibly intense and erratic in the months leading up to the festivals, so spending the evenings alone with Sparky isn’t new; what’s new is I’ll wake up in the mornings and he won’t be here. Tonight will depend on how I feel after work, I think. Tomorrow night will be my usua; Thursday night exhausted not do anything night, and then of course I have to do the whole prepare for panels and a reading thing over the weekend, taking Lyfts to and from the Quarter. I took Monday off as a recovery day, and then it’s back to work with a vengeance. It never ends, does it? Ah, well. Today I am going to look through my to-do list notebook (I’m trying this “running list” thing I’ve lifted from Donna Andrews’ marvelous series) and figure out what I need to get done first, and what is plausible and/or possible. I need to start writing fiction again, but the last few attempts were so futile that I’ve not really wanted to try again. It’s silly; nothing’s changed, and this is simply a mental block that I’ve created, but I keep thinking, with the country and world burning to the ground does any of this matter? Which is dumb; in my newsletter essay about being a DEI author I know that, small as it may be, my authorial voice is an act of protest every time I write about queer people. I had started writing a story for that American Gestapo anthology, and it was an excellent idea–but it really took me into a dark headspace I didn’t want to be in, so I put it aside.

I also filled my tank–a Honda CR-V, for the record–and it cost over forty dollars. I don’t think I’ve ever filled my car for that much since I bought it in 2017. Nice job, MAGA. But hey, so what if you self-owned as long as you owned the libs, right? No sympathy for any of you, really–especially you three-time MAGA voters. I am amused that the media blamed “economic anxiety” for the 2016 and 2024 elections…how did those votes work out for you? Looks like the Midwest is about to get destroyed again with the cost of fertilizer, and you have no workers this year, either, so what was the point of the farmer welfare money?

And make no mistake about it, Midwest red voting farmers–you’re on the fucking dole; why don’t you pull yourself up by your bootstraps? Why should my tax money bail your racist asses out?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely pay=the-bills Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow after my first night alone.

The pier at Panama City Beach, Florida

If You Were My Love

Well, we survived Monday, did we not? It wasn’t a bad day, really. I was tired by the time I got home rom running errands, and allowed myself to get pulled into the vortex of the comfy easy chair and the purring kitty who needs a lap. The news was as grim as ever, and now we have ICE at our airport (and many others) supposedly to “help” TSA…but that’s not what I am seeing happening all over the country. Not flying ever again is looking better and better all of the time, amirite? I am slowly getting caught up on all the news I missed while I had gone dark, and it’s the same sort of shit-show it was before I left for Alabama last Thursday. The lies being told by the administration about Iran go on and reported breathlessly by the lame-stream media1 without any question–you know, the same media that betrayed us all over Iraq and clearly learned not a fucking thing from that dereliction of duty, but rather seemed to race each other to the bottom to become even more sycophantic, anti-democracy, right-slanted garbage than Fox and Newsmax.

Sigh. Don’t we deserve better?

I always thought so, at any rate.

I feel good this morning. I slept well, my mind is clear, and my Achilles tendons still ache a bit; I didn’t ice them last night so will have to tonight. I also got my Saints and Sinners schedule so if you want to find me there, here you go:

Sunday, March 29, 2026

11:30 AM—12:45 PM—Literary Discussion 
TURNING THE SCREWS

One of the best experiences for a reader is to get so caught up in a novel that they have a physical reaction–dilated pupils, increased heart rate, and an inability to put the book down until the final page. Whether the dramatic tension comes from an internal, psychological source or from exterior forces, authors are masters at turning the screws and torturing their audience by creating unbearable suspense. Join us for a lively discussion on tricks of the trade and ways to keep people on tenterhooks until they can think of nothing else!

Panelists: Christopher Castellani, Greg Herren, J.M. Redmann, and Audrey Wilson

Moderator: Salem West

Hotel Monteleone, Lobby Level, Royal B

2:30—3:45 PM—Reading Series

SAINTS AND SINNERS: WRITERS READ

Sponsored by the John Burton Harter Foundation

Take the rare opportunity to hear authors in their own voice. This highlighted Festival event has authors share their vivid imaginations with their new creations, or revisiting a past work that holds special meaning. Please join us in welcoming: Rob Byrnes, Laurinda D. Brown, Drew Banks, Andrew Faye, Greg Herren, Thomas Mallon, Steve Majors, and J.M. Redmann for this year’s mix of established and exciting new writers.

Hotel Monteleone, Lobby Level, Royal D

I’ll probably turn up at the opening reception and the anthology launch on Saturday, and will stick around for the closing on Sunday before heading home. I’ve taken Monday off as a recovery day (and here’s hoping neither Paul nor I get hospitalized afterwards this year). I did start watching New Zealand’s The Traitors last night–I love how different yet the same they are from country to country–and I am thinking about watching this new Paul Theroux documentary about the toxicity of the “manosphere”…which counts as research for my lengthy essay series on masculinity and my perceptions and relationship to it. I have to pick up the mail again tonight after work–my next dose of my injection is being delivered today–and then it’s back home and possibly some chores before I either read or catch up on the news. I’ve selected my next read, but I don’t want to name it yet because I am having so much trouble with reading these days and I don’t want to give the impression that the book isn’t involving; the fault does not lie with the books but with me. We shall see how it goes, won’t we? I also need to go through my to-do list to remember what all I need to get done.

The memory is the first to go.

I’m also still playing around with the ideas for a new Scotty, which is now titled French Quarter Follies, which I cannot believe I’ve not used yet (madness). I hope to get back to doing some writing and targeted creativity this week…but haven’t I been saying that already for months? Author, heal thyself.

And on that turgid note, I will now proceed to clock-in at the spice mines for the day. Enjoy your Tuesday, Constant Reader–and may it ever be a Taco Tuesday.

  1. We are in dark times indeed when I use a phrase coined by moronic hockey mom and overall hatefully ignorant piece of shit Sarah Palin, but here we are. ↩︎

Love Is

…definitely not getting up at six on a Monday morning, methinks. I slept pretty well, but didn’t want to get up (I never do, so nothing new there), and am a little discombobulated; yesterday kept seeming like Saturday, and it wasn’t. My primary accomplishments of the day were getting things delivered so I didn’t have to leave the house, I finished reading Mississippi Blue 42, and finished watching season 2 of The Traitors Australia, which means I am almost finished with everything up for streaming on the Peacock app and will soon be looking for something else to watch. But the Festivals are this weekend, and Paul will be back to his what-passes-for-normal in his life next week, and we are very behind on a lot of streaming shows (new seasons and new ones to watch), so picking out something to watch shouldn’t be difficult. I also managed to keep avoiding the news for the most part since leaving Thursday, and I kept it going through the weekend. I really don’t want to check back in, do I? I have noticed the increase in the cost of gas–up to over $4 a gallon here in New Orleans. Remind when precisely gas was over four dollars a gallon during the last year of the Biden administration?

Sigh.

The last time I bought gas before the funeral trip, it was $2.59 a gallon and I was irritated with myself for not filling up the day before. So. Much. Winning.

I feel a bit weird this morning–not unwell, but not well, either. I suspect it has to do with the weather being different down here than it was over in Alabama, and my sinuses are having to get used to our heavier air again here. I slept well last night, too. It was a nice, relaxing day overall, in which I did some spot cleaning and some picking up around here, and of course I had things delivered. I have to swing by the post office for the mail on the way home, and I will swing past the grocery store on my way back to the house. I need to make a list–I don’t think I need too much, actually–and I do have a few things to do when I get home tonight. I need to also check my to-do list, and add some things to it. It’s becoming more and more clear to me that I can’t trust my short-term memory anymore. I think I’m going to start watching an episode of Jeopardy every night, because it makes me think and sharpens my brain.

I’ve not even checked my email since last Thursday–there’s a lot of it, so am afraid to look, but I am sure most of it is easily delete-able sales attempts. Or loan offers at loan shark interest rates. I don’t think I’m expecting anything crucial. Wish me luck when I open the inbox later.

I was very pleased that I finished reading Mississippi Blue 42. The only reason it took so long was because of brain fatigue; too tired when I get home from work to read for a while and same with the weekends. I really enjoyed it, and listening to the first half or more certainly made it easier for me to get back into reading the physical copy, which was marvelous. Eli Cranor is a marvelous writer, and the book inspired a lot of creative thoughts for me…it was also interesting because my uncle, whose funeral I attended, played college and pro ball and was a high school football coach (a successful one) until he retired. We really are such a college football family, it’s wild. I get my love of it from my family; and it’s always been so much a part of my life that I can’t imagine what it’s like not to follow college football. I turned Paul into a fanatic, too. (He was already a big sports fan, so getting him into college football wasn’t terribly hard.)

Season 2 of The Traitors Australia was absolutely amazing, with an enormous twist at the end that I saw coming, but wasn’t sure would deliver. But it DID! Now, all I have is one season of New Zealand before I am done, but I may go back and rewatch the most recent season of the US so I can evaluate and write a newsletter about.

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

The great statues of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel.