Category: short stories

Take a Bow

Thursday morning and I got up before my alarm, wide awake and feeling rested. Weird, right? On a THURSDAY last day in the office for the week morning? Madness. Sparky is also being super-affectionate this morning. He keeps wanting to sit on my shoulders, so he can head-butt me and purr up there while I walk around doing things. I don’t mind, I just don’t know why he is some mornings and some mornings he isn’t. Of course it doesn’t make sense because cat, but I can’t help but try to make sense of it, because I ain’t right in the head, you know?

Last night wasn’t bad. I headed uptown to pick up the mail (my copy of The Miracle at St. Bruno’s that I got from ebay, more on that later) and swung by the grocery store to make a few bags. I came home, Sparky needed a lap, and that was the end of that. I watched news and examined my new book–a paperback in pristine condition, like I picked it up off the rack at Zayre like I did my original copy–and watched the news—along with any number of videos ripping Ed Sheeran1 and Robert Kraft new assholes. Paul brought a pizza home for dinner, which was lovely, and we watched LSU-The Difference on ESPN, a documentary series they are filming for this season (think ESPN isn’t all in on LSU? I don’t they are doing one for every top team in the country, and there wasn’t a guarantee LSU would be any good this year, and really, still can’t be sure how good they are anyway at this point). I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home and put everything away, but…I slept very well for the first time this week, and it felt marvelous. I think we’re going to Costco tomorrow after work, too. Huzzah!

I’ve fallen down a wormhole of Internet research thanks to a Facebook friend who shared a post about a “ghost ship” that can be seen under the right conditions on the Tombigbee River in southwest Alabama, the Eliza Battle. The ship was a classic steamboat of the era (which I will always associate–steamboats, that is–with Mark Twain), transporting cotton bales and passengers when a fire broke out in the cotton and the entire ship went up in flames before sinking. I like the idea of a ghost steamboat (I am also partial to steamboats, maybe I should write about that sometime), which could make an interesting story. I love these old folk tales of Southern states, and feel like some of them could be used to write novels or short stories; I’ve been trying to write one about the legend of Freniere and the 1915 Hurricane, which wiped the town out, for years now. Learning Alabama and Louisiana history, legends, and lore is ever so much fun, too!

Has the entire world gone mad? After the Pink meltdown, the Ed Sheeran disaster, and Arch Manning proving he has no home training, I pretty much thought we were done with ignorant celebrity bullshit, but Sarah Paulson decided to say hold my beer and gave an incredibly tone-deaf white woman interview, in which she expressed disappointment that her Black male costars on The People v. O. J. Simpson got movie offers and she didn’t–she was trying to make the point that it’s more difficult for women to get parts in movies because those roles are few and far between for women, whereas male-centered movies are a dime a dozen. It was tone-deaf to make the comparison with two Black actors, who face an entirely but equally horrifying different kind of fight–yes, they are men, but they aren’t white men. And she left out the most obvious reasons producers don’t think about her when they’re casting–girl, you’re an out and proud lesbian. Hollywood is not only misogynist and racist, but it’s also incredibly homophobic. It’s getting better, but there are still an endless amount of problems in that “liberal” community.

Speaking of homophobia, I kind of love that congressional candidate Chris Gallant did, in his pre-politician life, posed in BDSM gear and there are also pictures of him on Fire Island in his underwear. YAWN. He’s running for a House seat on Long Island, is an openly gay former Marine and firefighter…and the only thing his MAGA opponent can come up with is him posing for some sexy pictures that exposed nothing prurient and was in the past…newsflash: most gay men, have sexy photos of themselves, in bathing suits at the very least, and more have nudes than a straight person might realize. I also love that he’s being defiant and refusing to be shamed out of the race. Pictures in BDSM gear doesn’t mean you’re into BDSM, and if you are, who the fuck cares? ANd seriously, the party of MAGA and the buffoon they worship has some fucking nerve trying to morality police anyone. Yo, you’re party leader is a pedophile rapist psychopath. Why don’t you start policing him? Anyway, I donated a little to his campaign.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely, lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning on work-at-home Friday!

  1. I’ve taken to calling him “Gingerdoodle.” ↩︎

Drowned World

And here it is, Tuesday morning, and I feel pretty decent. I slept better last night than I have in a while, which was lovely, and comfy as the bed was this morning, I got up and wasn’t tempted to stay in bed longer than I could or should. Sparky wasn’t too hungry this morning, because he didn’t even come up before the second time I hit snooze. I didn’t do much of anything last night after I got home from work; I should have made groceries (or had some delivered) but it was 100 degrees when I got into the car to come home yesterday afternoon and it just sucked all the life out of me before I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. Ah, well. I also didn’t do much of anything once I got home, either; I plopped down into my easy chair and Sparky curled up in my lap and that was it for the evening. I caught up on the news, started watching another episode of Scream Queens, which I interrupted when Paul came down to eat and we watched the latest Lanterns. I really love that show; it may be one of the best super-hero TV shows of all time; definitely up there with Agatha All Along, which was amazing.

And while I may not have done any writing yesterday, I did think about what I am writing right now, which is always a good thing, and far better than actually not thinking about it at all. I should be able to get this hellish transitional chapter finished tonight or tomorrow, and then I can move on to the next chapter. And yes, I just remembered I always have problems with Chapter Five. Sigh. It’s amazing how much we forget how painful writing a book can be whenever we start writing another week; helpful selective amnesia, much as how we here in New Orleans forget every year how bad summer can be; every year it’s like a horrific reminder, and the same goes with writing a book, especially when your only deadline is your own, you know? Contractual deadlines are entirely different kind of stress and aggravation, but much as I always worry when I sit down to write that words aren’t going to come, or that I’ll veer away from the story I am telling (it’s easy when your mind wanders as much as mine does), and while I always hate having to cut good writing out of my work because it doesn’t fit, no matter how pretty the language is (“kill your darlings”), sometimes it is necessary. (Right now I am resisting cutting this opening sentence for the chapter: There’s nothing better than a nap after some intense fucking. I love that sentence.)

Ah, my coffee is kicking in and I am feeling pretty good and awake and cheerful now (I know, right? What is wrong with me?) ; we’ll see how the rest of the day goes, shan’t we? We’re not terribly busy in the clinic this morning, so I should be able to get some of the paperwork done that I need to get done around my appointments. My new testing room is taking some getting used to, because I always have had my clients sit to my right when I am testing them; now they are on my right and the entire room is geared to the left instead of the right, which is taking me some getting used to; it’ll probably feel normal to me by the end of this week. Changes of habit aren’t easy when you’ve been doing something almost exactly the same way for twenty years, you know?

The news continues to be grim, and while I see many people being excited about a blue wave, that’s not taking into condition the possibilities that there will again be election shenanigans, or election outcome shenanigans. We’re already well on our way down the path to authoritarianism; it’s now a question of what will be left to rebuilt from once this administration and its un-American treason. (Interesting how the presidencies regarded by historians as the most corrupt in our history always has an R after their name, isn’t it? Grant, Harding, Nixon, Bush II, and now this thing.) I also believe two things about yesterday’s dialing back of AI by the plagiarists who want to make “thinking machines’; one, that the money dried up and it’s all about to crash and take the economy with it, and two, they’ve finally realized they can’t contain it, and that technology, in the wrong hands, is extremely dangerous. (Has no one at all ever watched the original Terminator movie, or Blade Runner, or The 100, or read Dune? Christ, even Azimov killed off all the robots in the universe except for one!)

Oh, I did finish writing a newsletter about Flipper, which is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning. I have to say, I am enjoying myself writing these newsletters, and I am slowly but surely beginning to feel more confidence about writing them, which is a really good thing, methinks. The fiction I’ve been writing at a snail’s pace is also much better than things I’ve done over the last six or seven years–or at least, I feel much better about them. I feel more confident about writing in general, I think; it’s just a matter of reining everything back it and focusing on getting things done.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Hope you have a great day, thanks as always for stopping by, and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Those boots? With THAT bandanna? Gurrrrlllll…

Ray of Light

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. Sparky is being needy this morning for some reason, but that’s fine. I’m still a bit groggy this morning, but I finally had a deep night’s sleep–I didn’t sleep well all weekend–and have a lot of emails to answer. When I get to the office this morning, I have to finish setting up the new testing room I use at work since they moved me last week, andI don’t know how busy we are going to be, but I need to get cracking on so many things. I’ve been a bit lethargic since my birthday–subconscious depression on being a senior, perhaps?–but…while understandable, I don’t have to like it because consciously it doesn’t bother me at all.

Or perhaps I doth protest a bit too much.

The Saints lost yesterday 31-30 in overtime, which was exciting if disappointing, and it was, overall, a pretty decent overall day. I hadn’t slept well, so wasn’t a ball of fire yesterday morning, but I did get another load of dishes done and did some more cleaning and organizing during the Saints game. Once that was over, we switched to the US Open, followed by this week’s Reacher, which is always fun. I then queued up another episode of Scream Queens–the Lea Michele makeover episode–and then we watched Supergirl, which was far better than I had heard or hoped it would be. I’ve always been partial to Supergirl–aka Superman’s lesser known, far overshadowed cousin–and was crushed when DC killed her off in the Crisis on Infinite Earths reboot of their entire universe. She returned in that universe later, but she was a by-product of the matrix that healed Superman after he died in the 1990s. I hated that the first big screen adaptation was so badly fumbled, and I didn’t last more than a couple of episodes of the television series. Bit I greatly enjoyed this movie, and Milly Alcock was terrific. I always thought her back story was dark and twisted–she was older when Argo City was destroyed, and so her PTSD is way worse than Clark’s, as the only survivors of an extinct race. I’m sure it didn’t do as well as it should have because the comic book incels were all girls can’t be super-heroes, duh as they opened yet another bag of Cheetos Puffs.

There was a lot of stupidity on-line yesterday, and all I could do was roll my eyes at the ignorance on display. I think my favorite stupid post was some stupid homophobic bitch who referred to The Song of Achilles as centering “Achilles’ often overlooked friend.” Um, did you even fucking read the book, you idiot? Yes, yes, they were just friends. Really close ones, the kind that actually fuck, and were buried together so they could be side by side for all eternity. Suuuuure, Jan.

But as I sat in my easy chair watching the US Open final after the Saints game yesterday, an idea flashed through my head for a reboot of a short story I want to submit to an anthology call. I started writing the story originally during #metoo (yes, it was a #metoo story) in which I had a horrible male author drop dead at a cocktail party honoring his retirement from teaching creative writing at the master’s level, who had helped launch a lot of careers–but he was always an inappropriate pig with his women students, and my main character–a lesbian crime writer, witnessed some strange activity at the party before his death. (I also had his past behavior echo things I’ve seen or heard male authors say to women authors–y’all really have no clue what women think of you, do you?). I’ve rewritten it any number of times but it never really has worked, and….then last night, I knew how to make it work and the new opening line came to me. I got my laptop out, wrote three paragraphs (it’s completely rebooted now), and then opened the current chapter of the book and wrote slightly over a thousand words on it, too. I also solved the mystery of the book last night, and realized my killer (in the book) wasn’t the real killer and then it all clicked into place. So, I was very pleased and happy when I went to bed last night, which was awesome, and then I slept well, which was even more awesome.

So, I am feeling pretty good this morning as I head back into the spice mines. I hope this week will be a good one for all of concerned, and I will be back bright and early in the morning again. See you then!

This was the view from our rental condo in Acapulco twenty years ago. Such a lovely trip.

Inside of Me

Sunday morning! I got up earlier than I thought I would this morning, given how late I went to bed last night because the LSU had about a two hour rain delay and didn’t get started until almost nine. I didn’t see that as a good omen, honestly, but…yeah, more on that a little later.

It rained off and on pretty much all day yesterday, which was nice. I felt good, if a bit on the low energy side, but it was fine. I had some groceries delivered, managed to get a lot of chores done, worked on straightening up the books, washed the bathroom rugs, and did two (!!) loads of dishes. Sparky was also cuddly and wanted to sleep on me most of the day since Paul wasn’t home; he worked out with his trainer and then went to the gym to do cardio for a couple of hours. I worked on the computer files some, cleaned off the kitchen counters, and organized the refrigerator. I should have been more tired, shouldn’t I? *snicker* In the morning, after I posted my blog and a new newsletter (which you can read by clicking here!) I went into the living room for cuddle time with Sparky. I finished watching The Burbs, and watched this week’s Real Housewives of Orange County (yawn) before putting it on to the Alabama game, which I didn’t need to pay attention to, and then had the Baylor-Auburn game on. It’s still too early in the season to know how good anyone is yet, so we don’t know what the seasons holds for anyone–I mean, Michigan almost lost at home to Western Michigan yesterday–which makes it all the more interesting to watch while dismissing “expert” opinions on who is or isn’t good.. It’s nice not being so emotionally vested in college football anymore (a topic for another time), to be honest, and dialing back my fandom in my dotage isn’t something I saw coming, but…it’s probably better this way. That emotional roller coaster I used to ride during LSU games was exhausting and unnecessary.

The Auburn-Baylor game turned out to be a lot better than I expected; wasn’t sure what to expect from either (I do like Baylor coach Dave Aranda, he was our defensive coordinator in 2019) and Auburn has a new coach this year. Can the new coach turn Auburn around and get them winning again? Auburn made a goal-line stand on a two-point conversion in the final seconds of the game to win, 17-16. Good for you, new coach! While it wasn’t an impressive outing for Auburn, they lost the close games most of the time in the last five or six years.

The LSU-Clemson game was weather delayed, as I already mentioned; we were also having a thunderstorm here. I managed to cookout between waves of the storm, and after watching the US Open during the delay, finally settled in to watch the game. Oh. My. God. As I said yesterday and reiterated above, it’s hard at this point in the season to tell who’s good and who isn’t. So, yes, it’s entirely possible that Clemson is really bad this year–but LSU beat them 51-10, and it wasn’t even that close. I’ve not seen LSU beat a top tier college team that badly in–well, since the Oklahoma game in the play-offs with Joe Burrow. The defense was incredible. It was also Dabo Swinney’s worst loss in his time at Clemson–maybe as a head coach in general. Sam Leavitt and that new running back Dilin Jones certainly looked amazing. Even the back-ups, going in late in the third quarter, looked really good. I had hoped for a big win, like I always do, but 51-10? Never in my wildest dreams would I have anticipated that. This is going to be a very interesting season, but Coach Kiffin sure seemed to be having a really good time last night, and Death Valley was rocking. I am trying not to get too excited, choosing to keep my “cautiously optimistic” hat on for now, just as I did with the 2019 team.

I also loved the signs at Gameday (I didn’t watch; because Macafee) that I saw on-line later: You can’t spell lawsuit without LSU and Don’t sue me Jayden I’m only 5.

I started rereading Celebrity by Thomas Thompson; it’s a rather long and deeply involving crime story that takes place over the course of over twenty years. It’s always been one of my favorites (Thompson wrote one of my favorite true crime “novels,” Blood and Money) and a friend mentioned it recently on social media, so I got it down from the shelves (I have my original copy still, hardcover) and started looking at it again last weekend, rereading the opening. Does it still hold up? No crime novel would ever get away with being this long now–it would have to be marketed as something else; I don’t know what it was considered or marketed as on its original release. I bought it because I’d loved his earlier true crime writing, and this intrigued me. I’ve always loved stories that go back and forth in time, with the reader not knowing much about what’s going on in the present. The book opens from the point of view of a cop at the hospital with someone having emergency surgery; all we know is someone has been arrested, someone is dead, and someone could die, but not who they are and how we got to the point, which is an excellent way to open a book, if you ask me, It’s not until we go back in time that we learn who the three central characters are, and we meet them as high school seniors whose graduation party plans have been rained out by a flooding rain…it’s also quite well-written, but I also wonder if anyone would publish it today. It’s going to make for a good essay, methinks.

I got an email yesterday with the subject line Six Gothic thrillers for fans of horror. Excuse me, what? It was one of those lists of books things, but…Gothic isn’t always horror, and horror isn’t always Gothic. Rebecca, for example, is a Gothic novel that isn’t horror. It really annoyed me–Gothic can be any number of other subgenres, but…I will have to concede that Gothic thrillers may appeal to horror fans. As someone who is a fan of horror and Gothics, I used to make that same mistake–but classifying books is not an exact science in the first place.

I also read a Richard Matheson short story yesterday. Matheson is one of my favorite writers; it’s amazing how many films and episodes of television shows (like The Twilight Zone) are based on his work, and I never think to include him (and Robert Bloch) as authors who have influenced me. I should revisit some of this novels…anyway, the story was a Western called “The Conqueror.” It’s actually very poignant, about a young man who has come west to prove himself as a quick draw duelist. It doesn’t end well, and is kind of sad; someone who, in 1871, wanted his fifteen minutes of fame. It also reminded me again what a master Matheson was.

I saw an anthology submissions call for crimes without corpses; in other words, any crime but murder. I don’t think I’ve ever written a non-murder crime story, which is kind of wild. Why do I always only think of murder when it comes to crime? Something to ponder at any rate.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am playing today by ear; whether I read or write or clean or any combination of the above will remain to be seen predicated on what I am feeling like. I feel a bit lazy today–staying up so late but still getting up early is not recommended–so today is what it is. So have yourself a merry little holiday Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back again tomorrow morning! Till then, stay cool.

These kinds of staircases always make me think o The Haunting of Hill House. I would never climb one, but they are pretty to look at.

Thief of Hearts

Wednesday already? Good morning!

I slept well again last night, and feel pretty good thus far. The bed was so comfortable last night and this morning! I did wake up once, but was able to go back to sleep. Friday I have a department meeting at the office and I need to get blood drawn that morning–fasting labs, too–but can come back home after the meeting. It’s also a three-day weekend, and LSU’s first game (in case you’ve not been paying attention) is also Saturday night. It’s also Southern Decadence, which used to be one of my favorite weekends of the year. No, this year we won’t be partying all weekend like the olden days. They are lovely memories, but nothing I really wish to revisit. I guess I really am a senior citizen, aren’t I?

Nothing wrong with that, either.

It’s going to be miserably hot today, too. There’s a chance we’ll get a cooling rain this afternoon, but…New Orleans summer weather forecasts are notably unreliable (from late May to mid-October: hot, humid, chance of rain) so we’ll see. I am going to come straight home from work tonight–last night I had an errand to run–and did quite a bit once I did get home. I cleaned up the kitchen, did a load of dishes, and picked up some. My mind was all over the place last night, so once I was done with my chores I caught up on the news. For some reason we didn’t have a lot of juice on our Internet last night, so I couldn’t watch another episode of The Burbs, so started watching old LSU football highlights (I have told you, I am a big college football fan!) to get ready for this weekend. I can’t believe football season is here again already….but I’m glad. And the US Open! Woo-hoo! Although outside of LSU, the rest of the games seem like they’d be boring. Ah, well, I can have the US Open on for background noise while I clean or write. And I can cook out before the game! Woo-hoo!

I did work on some newsletters yesterday, too. I didn’t get one out over the weekend, which I had intended to, but got a bad case of the tireds/lazies/mind scatters. I feel very good this morning though–better than the last two for sure–which is a good thing. I’m going to try to finish one today–and the other for this Saturday (and the first day of LSU football) is already finished. I also need to get back to work on the book; I feel like my brain is capable of focusing today so hopefully I’ll have a good day. We shall see how it goes, won’t we?

I am looking forward to the long weekend, not going to even try to pretend otherwise. Old habits die hard, I suppose. I will always complain about having to work because my preference is always to do absolutely nothing and not give a shit about anything. (It also didn’t help being told regularly that I was lazy when I was growing up. What can I say? It stuck because I knew it was true.) Being around people doesn’t make me anxious and stressed the way it used to–thank heaven for better living through chemistry–but it was a serious issue before. I need to finish my newsletter about anxiety, don’t I, and being able to look back at it from the other side is actually very lovely. I’m sure it has helped me beat insomnia (although again, chemistry), and the anxiety/stress no longer impacts my behavior, which is nice. People still frustrate me, but I don’t wish them dead anymore when they do. After all, they’re clearly miserable so I now wish them a long life with their misery…and then they go to Hell.

It all depends on point of view and context, doesn’t it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Hope you have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and never fear: I will be back tomorrow bright and early.

Lightning on Royal Street, by Marco Rasi. This is the birthplace of Alice Heine, who also grew up there. Alice was the first American born princess of Monaco.

Keep It Together

Saturday!

His Majesty let me sleep late this morning–I did wake up at six and went back to sleep after a glance at the clock–and I feel rested and good. Yesterday was a surprisingly good day, all things considered. I got my work done, got the chores done, we went to Costco, and last night we watched the newest episodes of The Shards and Reacher. I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked; the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and the counters are a mess, too. I have to order some things for delivery this morning, and then I’ll be all set for the weekend. My current plan is to not leave the apartment except to either take out trash (there is quite a bit of it), or to cook out. Next weekend LSU has its first game and it’s Labor Day weekend and it’s Southern Decadence, but this delicate magnolia flower actually can’t really handle standing around in oppressive heat anymore. I didn’t do any reading or writing yesterday, so hope to get to some of that today while I clean up around here and get the house under control. Ambitiously, I want to finish this chapter and a short story draft I’ve been working on, but we’ll see how everything goes. I also want to get out another newsletter this weekend, so I need to decide which draft I am going to finish.

But I do feel pretty good this morning, which is a very lovely sign that the day might be a good one.

Honestly, I’ve been in a bit of a funk this week. I thought it was because of the one-two punch of Dolly Parton and Tim Curry dying, which definitely played a part in it, but it’s also the weekend of the Katrina anniversary, which has always been an subconscious downer and mood-suppressor for me. It’s why I was so low-energy this week and unfocused. (I did enjoy seeing Carrie Underwood getting dragged for the filth she is on Threads and her post about Dolly. She really thought we’d forget her bending the knee for the tangelo toddler; she thought fucking wrong. I also laughed at loud at some stupid show business “journalism” website posting that Kristen Chenowith play Dolly in a bio-pic–the nicest response I saw was “do you want people to actually watch it?”)

This has been rather an interesting week, has it not, for stupidity and bigotries? Good Good now is claiming Callaway set them up to take a hit while buying their stock back at a much lower price because it dropped dramatically in trading price because of the abuser ad, and threatening to sue the. Oh, cute little stupid white boys–welcome to unregulated capitalism, and for being so fucking stupid you trusted a bigger company as a “partner.” You were of use to them until you weren’t. (I suspected this whole thing was manufactured to drop the stock price; you were the idiotic sexist jerks who gift-wrapped it for them.) But I also think it can easily be proven that people were demanding that Callaway abandon the partnership, too. I also love how the “boys” at Good Good (they aren’t men) feel betrayed and cheated and made the patsy–well, the number one rule of the business world is never trust anyone completely; always keep an eye open because they will screw you at the first possible moment, but it all sounds like Good Good trying to cope and shift blame….typical for white people, especially white men who are used to being catered to on everything. Maybe this lesson can make up for that high school diploma and college education you passed up, Garrett Clark, because you are now toxic and so is your brand…and it was all very public.

Good luck to you getting that stain out. But I’m sure you were smart with your big income and didn’t blow it and safely saved some and made some conservative investments with a low but solid and steady return.

Yeah, right!

Milo Yiannopoulos was arrested by ICE yesterday when he flew into New Orleans for his employer’s concert here last night. Mr. “we need millions and millions deported” is now going to be deported because he turned on his original foul lord and master. This is an excellent example of leopards feasting on his face or FAFO. I hope he enjoyed his stay in whatever detention center ICE has set up here, and Louisiana doesn’t concern itself too much for the health and safety of anyone incarcerated…so either they’re using one of the local places (I’ve crossed my finger for Orleans Parish Prison myself, but I’d prefer to see him picking cotton at Angola.) No, I am not celebrating ICE; I still consider them no better than the Gestapo or the STASI. I am, however, enjoying another far-right piece of shit getting exactly what he wanted for other people. I hope he’s banned from the country. Fuck that ex-gay pedo enabler/excuser, now and forever. His mugshot was terrible, and I love the petty bitchery of Homeland Security releasing it. They’re finally detaining the worst of the worst, and the schadenfreude is as delicious as a face is to a leopard.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will see you again tomorrow morning.

I love this view of the quarter and the river from the window of the Tennessee Williams Suite at the Monteleone Hotel

Deeper and Deeper

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel terrific this morning. Sparky let me sleep late again, and the bed was very warm and comfortable. I ran an errand and made groceries–hardly anything for nearly a hundred dollars–and then settled into my chair. I read some more of the book I’m reading, which is haunting and interesting but not terribly engaging, worked on some newsletters, worked on the book for a little while, and even started writing a short story, inspired by, of all things, an actual Real Housewife. I also did some chores, so overall it was a good, if lazy, day. Today I need to have some things delivered, and we may make a Costco run. I have some writing to do and definitely have some chores that need doing that I’ve kept putting off since I’ve been home this long birthday weekend.

While I was reading Youtube was on autoplay, and a documentary about the movie version of Valley of the Dolls–one of my favorite camp classics of all time (“I’M NEELY O’HARA!!!”) and eminently quotable–which got me to thinking about Valley of the Dolls, which remains one of my favorite novels of all time, and when they mentioned the casting of Barbara Parkins–who was hot at the time from the television version of Peyton Place, which also put me in mind of Peyton Place (also one of my favorite books) and how interesting it was that I always thought of the two books (and their films) as connected. Both were hugely successful, both were dismissed as “dirty sex books” and “trash” , and both made their authors celebrities–and both books appealed greatly to women (and of course gay men), as did the films. I have long thought about writing about those great trashy novels of my youth; big trashy novels by Sidney Sheldon and Shirley Conran and Harold Robbins and Jackie Collins (oh! Hollywood Wives!) and Judith Krantz; I used to love long books–especially ones with revenge as the driving plot element (sighs, remembering The Other Side of Midnight)–and these were especially fun. I still remember many of them fondly, and it would also make for another interesting essay series about how these books actually influenced and impacted me as a reader and as a writer wannabe, and how they didn’t deserve the drubbing dismissal of the literary academy. So, I got down my copies of Peyton Place and Valley of the Dolls and looked through them, opening up to various places in the books and just reading.

Today I need to do some things I meant to do yesterday but never got around to doing–I need to reread and outline the first four chapters of the book, so I can remember character and place names, continuity, and tie up any loose ends I may have pulled out but left dangling.

I think we’re probably in another heat advisory today, and there’s no telling how hot it’s actually going to get out there. It wasn’t terrible when I ran my errands yesterday–or I’m getting used to the horror, one or the other–but it’s pretty bright and sunny out there this morning. This the best I’ve felt in the morning since my mini-vacation started, which is nice. I also think I am due to get a new pair of shoes, because my hip joints are getting achy again and that’s usually a sign. At least it’s just the hips, you know? I also need to order some things to be delivered, too–which I will try to get taken care of this morning so we’re free to leave for Costco at any time, if we so choose to go there today. We do kind of need to go–but in a worst case scenario I can also have that delivered as well.

And on that note, I am going to get going so I can organize and plan my day once I get these duties taken care of. Have a great day, wherever you are and whatever you do, Constant Reader, and I shall return in the morning tomorrow. Until then, hang loose.

The fountain at Audubon Park on a misty morning, by photographer David Freeman.

Love Song

Saturday morning and I have really lost the plot on what day it is. I kept thinking it was Saturday all day yesterday, which was annoying. And as much as I was wanting to have another day off yesterday (planning on working more today and tomorrow), I actually started writing my next chapter of the WIP, and even worked some on my newsletter drafts, which is becoming more and more fun the more I do of them. Obviously, we didn’t go see the movie because I was writing and had gotten settled into that “in my sweats and I’m in my chair working on my laptop” mode, and so I thought it was better to go ahead and do what work I could while doing my chores. I wound up writing about 1500 words on the new chapter, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Whether they are any good or not is another story, but I am taking the win. I also stayed up later than usual, doing the laundry, and Sparky tried to get me up early again but settled in for cuddles when I didn’t get up.

I watched some more documentaries about the Pacific War again yesterday, which is technically research for the book–since my main character served in the South Pacific during the war. It also occurred to me yesterday that I should watch South Pacific again–I watched it when I was a kid, and never revisited, but thought it might be interesting from a sociological and research point of view; how did they depict sailors with no access to women? It’s been so long I don’t remember much of the movie, or the book either for that matter (Tales of the South Pacific was my entry point for James A. Michener’s work) so one of these weekend mornings when I don’t have much else to do along the lines of reading or chores I could put it on. I liked musicals a lot when I was a kid–I remember seeing The Sound of Music and Camelot on the big screen–but kind of got away from them as a teenager and the post-teen years…the fact that not many were made might have had a lot to do with it. Anyway, it couldn’t hurt, right? And if I can consider something as a kind of sideways research, it doesn’t feel like I’m just wasting my time…see, what you saw right there is an anxiety coping mechanism: I’d feel guilty and anxious for not being productive, so I needed a rationale for it that made sense to my brain.

And while we didn’t go see the movie yesterday after all–and probably won’t this weekend either–we are going to Costco tomorrow.

I watched more of The Burbs yesterday, and when Paul came down from his work-at-home duties, we caught up on both The Shards and Reacher. This most recent episode of The Shards was probably one of the best ones so far, but it’s still Ryan Murphy so there’s kind of a glitzy veneer over it all and character motivations don’t seem to be important (they never are to Murphy)…and almost all of the characters are unlikable, because I at least never feel any sympathy for any of them–and kind of enjoy their failures…I am not sure that’s the primary intent here, but that’s my reaction to it. It’s addicting, though, like so many things are that are nothing more than empty calories, like cotton candy or soda.

I was actually kind of glad we didn’t go to the movie yesterday because around the time we would have left, some amazing thunderstorms rolled into the metro area. The band of bad weather lasted for about six or seven hours, too–with street flooding uptown and there was also HAIL uptown, big chunks of ice hurtling down from the sky. We didn’t have any here at the Lost Apartment, thank the Lord, and it sure would have sucked to bring Costco home during a thunderstorm. Yikes.

Some rather interesting news broke yesterday regarding the Karmelo Anthony case, and a better picture of what happened that day is starting to emerge. When I first heard the news, my first thought was “self-defense” and my second was “they are going to roast and railroad this kid” and I was right about that, too. (Just like when Nolan Wells went missing and my reaction was “he’s dead and those white kids did something, they may not have killed him but they certainly didn’t act like innocent people who didn’t know anything” and as more facts come out…)

Because inevitably it will always turn out to be some kind of bullshit white shenanigans. And that kid Karmelo Anthony killed sounds to me like he was already well on his way to becoming a full-fledged sociopath. We need to stop treating white kids with kid gloves. Hell, we need to stop centering white people, period.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning, okay? Til then!

I’ve never understood the “must shave body and be smooth at all times” mentality. Body hair can be sexy, too—and very masculine.

Till Death Do Us Part

Friday and my days are all fucked up! I kept thinking it was Friday all day yesterday, and even this morning feels like it should be Saturday. Sparky flatly refused to let me sleep late this morning, and was having none of my demurrals. I did sleep well last night, so there is that, and I feel pretty good this morning. I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday. I ran an errand, did a chore or two, but mostly just sat in my chair with Sparky in my lap watching documentaries about World War II battles in the Pacific, which have never felt got the proper attention, even during the war; our basic history classes focused mostly on Hitler and the Nazis and the war in Europe. (I’ve always thought an espionage novel set in Egypt during the second World War would be fun and interesting–Africa also gets short shrift in basic histories.) We got pizza from That’s Amore for dinner last night, and watched a new episode of The Shards, which is interesting but very strange. We also watched an episode of Reacher, and yes, the scene where they have to explain onlyfans to him was absolutely hilarious. Alan Ritchson is just so perfect as Reacher it’s almost scary.

And every time I watch an episode I think, when and if this show ends he could lost some bulk and play Travis McGee. I do think those books might be too sexist and dated to be adapted now, but you never know. I do remember them fondly.

SO my birthday was lovely. I got tons of messages and wishes all over social media, and didn’t try to keep up with them all after a certain point. I’ll take some time today to go through everything and say thanks to everyone. But I was aware of all of them, so give me some time to get caught up. Thanks for making a bitter old queen feel so beloved! We are going to see Spider-Man this afternoon in Harahan, and we’re stopping at Costco on the way back home. (I need to make a list.) Today is mostly going to be about seeing the movie and Costco, so most of the rest of the day will be for chores and reading. OH! I also sent out a newsletter yesterday; you can read it by clicking here. So, I did do some things yesterday, but for the most part I took it easy, as I will today, too.

The Penn State cocaine ring has been interesting while sort of amusing at the same time. When I first saw the headline, I thought my money’s on Delta Upsilon and Sigma Chi–with Kappa Sigma and Deke coming in as strong possibilities. So, when I turned out to be right about which fraternities it was, it amused me. It also answered a question I’d been pondering for awhile: are the current Greek systems still mired in cocaine use like they were in the 1980s? I wrote a noir story about college sorority girls in “This Town,” which explored hedonism and fallout from partying at fraternity houses, wrapped up in a lovely Mardi Gras/Fat Tuesday package. I’d been wanting to write a novella about Chanse investigating his old fraternity at LSU for a suspicious death; the cocaine ring would be a nice addition to that story (it’s called “Once a Tiger”)…which means following the story (as I’ve been following the suspicious deaths stories of Noah Presgrove and Nolan Wells) and taking notes.

And on that note, I’m going to head into the spice mines and get some of these chores handled. Have a lovely Friday, everyone, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

The Sipsey River as it winds through the Bankhead Forest in Alabama.

Papa Don’t Preach

…I’m in trouble deep! Oh, Madonna–another hit song, another controversy. Love her or hate her, I think everyone can agree we’ll never see another artist/star like her. She literally changed the world in so many ways–and IMAGINE how conservatives got upset over a young woman who owned and flaunted her own sexuality…those videos are all so tame now, and even then the haters missed the point of most of them. (Google the controversy about her “Like a Prayer” video, and then actually watch the video. It’s about racism and doing the right thing.)

So here we are on Friday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well. Sparky has been fed and is now curled up under my desk. I slept very well and a little bit later this morning, and feel pretty well rested from a good night’s sleep. I have a meeting on-line in a few hours, some work to get done, and lots of chores to do. I also need to do some reading and writing, and order some things to be delivered. I am going to try not to leave the house this weekend, if at all possible. I want to finish a newsletter and get it sent out tomorrow morning, too. I did wind up getting a bit tired in the afternoon, and had errands to run after work. Traffic heading uptown was absolutely horrible, but with proper a/c in the car it wasn’t terrible. I picked up the mail, a prescription, and a few things at the grocery store–I cut it back because we were in a heat advisory and I didn’t want to have to deal with getting the wagon and so forth, figuring I’d just pay to have it delivered today or tomorrow. What can I say? I’m old and there was a heat advisory called that lasts until tonight at eight, I think. YIKES!

I’ve been listening to Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks records in the car, and I finally decided to make a Rumours playlist, my own mix of the record’s line-up. I’ve always thought it was wrong that “Silver Spring” wasn’t included on that album, and I knew exactly where it belonged: between “Go Your Own Way” and “The Chain,’ replacing “Songbird,” which I replaced “Oh Daddy” with, and added “Fireflies” after “Gold Dust Woman.” This playlist is perfect, frankly. That is exactly where “Silver Spring” belongs, and the three songs all play into each other, like they’re finally in the right order. I also realized that “Songbird” wound up where it is because it was the final song on Side One of the record. and it was a nice mellow way of getting you up to flip the record over. I can’t believe it took me this long to make said playlist, and despite almost fifty years of listening to it in its original order, I don’t expect to hear “Songbird” when “Go Your Own Way” fades out.

The lovely thing about my weekends now is that I have so much free time on them now that I don’t feel like I work very hard on them now, but manage to get things done. It feels like I am being lazy, honestly, but then I am like, but look at what you got done! I’m still adjusting to the last twenty years or so of being insanely busy. It’s kind of nice when your to-do notebook doesn’t have a lot of things in it to do, isn’t it? I am going to make a list just for today–it’s so satisfying to cross things off, it pleases me to no end–so I can make sure to stay on track. I also have a short work week coming up; I’ve taken Thursday and Friday off for my birthday next week. Huzzah!

As for this weekend, I am going to try to get stuff done while relaxing. We’ll see how that goes, but I do want to get Chapters 1-4 checked for continuity issues, the files updated, and work on an strong outline of the first four and get some character work as well. I may work on some short stories, and I may get going on some organization of thoughts for the next Scotty, which will be called New Orleans Nemesis. (I’ve always loved the word nemesis, and I am excited to be using it as a title.) I have some amorphous thoughts rolling around in my head–thoughts that include the pirate Dominique Youx, the German Coast slave rebellion, a prized jewel from the past, the murder of one of Scotty’s ex-friends, and Scotty’s past haunting him yet again.

And the Saints are back for the preseason tomorrow! GEAUX SAINTS! I cannot believe it is almost football season…and on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and going on my day. Have a delightful Friday, Constant Reader, and I will be in the morning. See you then!

Sexy underground wrestler Zack Ramos