Category: short stories

You Keep Me Hangin’ On

Work at home Friday, and I am exhausted. It was, over all, a pretty good week for me at the office, as I got a lot done and eased back into seeing patients. I have to get caught up on my homework today, so that should be a good thing as long as I can stay focused. I feel rested this morning, which is also enormously helpful; but we’ll see how long that lasts, shall we? Sparky let me sleep a bit more this morning, which was lovely of him, and now I have a few hours to do things around here before I start working this morning. I am not going to overdo it this weekend–trust me on that score, number one on the list for the weekend is relaxation and reading (and it’s a three day weekend at that!) and doing some chores to get the house back under control.

Last night we got caught up on both The Last of Us and Hacks (what a fucking episode! Jean Smart clinched this year’s Emmy, methinks, again), and now we’re going to be looking for something new for the weekend; I’ve heard good things about Overcompensating, so we’ll probably check that out–and Alafair Burke’s TV show, The Better Sister, will be debuting soon. I loved the book–seriously, if you aren’t reading Alafair you need to make better choices in your reading life–and the cast is fantastic. Huzzah!

Yesterday I got an ARC of Laura Lippman’s new novel Murder Takes a Vacation, which has moved up on the TBR list, and a copy of Frank Perez’s Rainbow Fleur de Lis: Essays on Queer New Orleans History. Frank is fantastic and knowledgeable; I also recommend his history of Southern Decadence. People think I know New Orleans? I don’t know shit compared to Frank! Frank is a repository of knowledge about queer New Orleans; in fact, I should consult with him about my 1994 New Orleans book. (adds to list)

I also cleaned the Keurig last night, and yes, my coffee is tasting much better this morning. Whew. I was worried I’d lost my taste for coffee during the illness, which was obviously not the case. Of course the Keurig needed cleaning–it needed cleaning when I got sick, and then it sat there unused for four weeks, and then I didn’t clean it before trying to use it again. Dumb dumb dumb, but I am glad I can enjoy my coffee in the mornings again. Huzzah! I may even try to get some writing done this weekend–at least work on a couple of essays and maybe finish that short story I started.

I’m feeling better, can you tell, Constant Reader? I feel like today just might be a good day, if not the best one I’ve had in a long time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines to read for a bit before I start work. Have a lovely Friday, and I will check in with you again later.

British Olympic diving team, 2024 Paris

The Tears of a Clown

Well, in excellent news, my insurance did approve my treatment plan, and it looks like it won’t cost me a penny–I finally met my deductible for this year, so everything should be free for the rest of the year, which is terrific. Yesterday wasn’t a good day–I was just as tired as I was on Sunday, didn’t sleep well, and so, well, yeah. Unpleasantness, and exhaustion. My mind was foggy all day (but I managed to get my work done efficiently and correctly), but I was able to function despite being so tired. I did manage to get the dishes done when I got home, and ran the dishwasher, too. It’s nice having a kitchen that is more clean and organized than not, though. I was very tired, as I mentioned, so I also read some of the Vicki Barr’s The Silver Ring Mystery–she always finds mystery on one of her flights, which is kind of fun–and then just kind of chilled for the rest of the evening (Paul was working on a grant) and relaxed.

Stop pushing yourself before you’re ready, Gregalicious.

While it is kind of silly, one of the nice things about being so sick for so long is that I am reminded how many friends I actually do have. So many emails and texts and DMs and calls from so many people really made me feel blessed and lucky–because I am blessed and lucky. Sure, it’s okay to feel down when you’re not well or things don’t go the way you want them to, but I shouldn’t wallow in it, and give into the despair that is all too often a part of my personality (the new medications have made the despair and depression pretty much a thing of the past anyway). Yesterday I received a text message from someone who is very dear to me, just to cheer me up in case I was down. I wasn’t down, just tired, but it did cheer me up and make me feel warm inside. It’s the little things sometimes, isn’t it?

I did manage to get some chores done despite my exhaustion before Paul and I settled in to watch season two of The Last of Us, which I’d forgotten about. We’d only seen the first episode and then I got sick, so I forgot all about it–and how good it actually is. We watched three episodes last night before I had to stop and get things ready for today–and huzzah, I did sleep pretty well last night so I feel rested and like I can get through my first day of seeing clients in over a month today.

We’ll see how that goes, won’t we?

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Brief today, sorry; just not feeling a lot today but will be back tomorrow.

Stoned Love

Sunday and here we go. Yesterday was a decent day, even if I did wear myself out. I couldn’t find my wallet Thursday, and couldn’t find it anywhere. So, as much as I wanted to put off dealing with until Monday, I got a wild hair of responsibility and took care of things. I canceled my credit and debit cards, then Paul and I drove out to ABC Title in Metairie for me to replace my real ID (and get him one). We picked up the mail (and the chopping/slicing/dicing device I’d ordered arrived), we went to the grocery store since I had no way of paying for them, and then came home. As Paul lugged the groceries in because I was exhausted, he checked our mailbox…

And my wallet was in there. (Thank you, whoever found it and put it there.)

I’d checked just to be safe on the way out to do everything, and it wasn’t there.I am glad it was returned, but man! If only a few hours earlier a lot of hassle for me wouldn’t have been necessary. And I have to wait for my credit and debit card replacements to arrive in the mail over the next two weeks. Ah, there are worse things, and at least they didn’t take the (now invalid) cards, you know? I even ordered a new wallet on line, which is fine. The old one has been pretty beaten up and trashed over the years.

Oh, and the new Real ID? With my weight loss, it is easily the worst state picture for an ID I have ever taken.

My brain was scrambled and tired when we got back, so I kind of didn’t do as much as I could have yesterday. I did some cleaning and straightening, but I also rewatched Aladdin, and finished reading that abominable Dana Girls mystery, Mystery at the Crossroads, which will be featured in my newsletter soon. My mind and creativity are trying to make a comeback–I did take some notes down for an essay I am writing, trying to get my thoughts better organized and even had a breakthrough on how to open it. But my energy reserves are so low, it’s hard for me to even think about doing anything once I get the necessary things done every day (like going to work; I’ll be seeing clients this week–we’ll see how that goes as my job duties start picking up again).

I slept decently last night–I also fell asleep in my chair again last night and Paul woke me up to go to bed–so I am hoping today will be a good day. I did manage to get some things done around here yesterday (progress is progress, however slow it may be) and I do have a ZOOM call with my editor this morning at eleven, so I’m hoping to get some things done this morning since I am up so early. Coffee is starting to taste better, but I need to clean the Keurig out since it sat unused for so long. That probably has something to do with the coffee taste, you know?

I hope this is going to be a good week. I have to take it one day at a time, of course–some days are better than others, and I need to pace myself and take things easier and not try not to be Energizer Bunny Greg and wear myself out, you know? The kitchen still needs work–as does the filing–and maybe I’ll try to get some writing done today, if my brain doesn’t end up scrambling on me.

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

The view from the Vieux Carré Room in the Hotel Monteleone

Turn the Beat Around

Nottoway Plantation, one of the beautiful old homes along the River Road north of New Orleans, burned to the ground Thursday.1 But what that lovely old historic home actually was? Just a monument to enslavement and stolen wealth. I also can’t help but hope the backstory to the fire is some Gothic shenanigans, a la Rebecca and Manderly burning to the ground.

Nottoway before
Nottoway after

I’ve certainly come a long way from that kid who was raised to believe in white supremacy and the Lost Cause ideology, haven’t I? My relationship to the South has always been fraught, once I began to read more and understand more and deprogram myself from that horrific grooming as a child. I can remember, though, reading Gone with the Wind when I was ten or eleven for the first time and my hackles being raised by the happy, contented enslaved people and how they were described and how they talked. (I loved the story itself, but the racism was so unrelenting and unending and horrible; I need to do a deconstruction of that book sometime–as well as other “make white people feel better about racism” books.)

Nottoway was a beautiful home, but it was also one of the most monstrous sugar plantations in Louisiana with an excessively brutal history. I am not sorry in the least this horrific place–where they teach nothing about the true history of the place and rent out for weddings and parties for white people (“yes, you too can have a Scarlett O’Hara wedding on an old plantation! So what about the brutal treatment of generations of enslaved people?”). It really was nothing more than a monument to oppression, cruelty, and the evil that men can do.

I started dealing with the ghosts of my own Southern past in Bury Me in Shadows, and this new repurposed book from an old manuscript is also going to deal with race in Alabama, too. I just have to finish this damned Scotty book and get it out of my scalp. New Orleans also has its own dark, bloody and brutal history I have to deal with at some point, too. I was reading a piece about Madame LaLaurie and her abuse of her enslaved people, and wondering how to turn that into a short story–and likewise, my Sherlock story will also have to deal with race, because of the Voodoo Queen. I’m not afraid to address any of these issues, really; as long as I do it and am mindful of the potential for offense and/or getting it wrong (I have a great editor, thank God) and tread carefully. You really can’t write about the South authentically without talking about race.

After I finished working yesterday, Paul and I ran some errands (including Costco) and by the time we got back I was completely worn out and exhausted. I started reading a Dana Girls 2mystery (one of the kids’ series I collect) titled Mystery at the Crossroads, which was originally published in 1954–right around when the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books began being revised to remove problematic content–and ho boy, is there some problematic content in this book! It’s about “gypsies”–and every handy stereotype about the Romani people is crammed into this book. But it was easy to read, it engaged my brain, and now maybe today I can get back into reading something substantial.

I also rewatched two movies last night–the animated Beauty and the Beast (yes, I get that it’s problematic but I love it) and Jesus Christ Superstar before falling asleep in my chair. Paul woke me at one, and I managed to sleep through the night and this morning I feel rested and good. I have some errands to run today, but I am going to try to just clean and read and rest and relax as much as humanly possible. I am still not 100% recovered from the illness, but I am getting there.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow, if not sooner.

  1. And yes, the Lost Cause traitors are weeping publicly of the loss. Since it was one of those destination wedding/party places that glossed over its hideous history…good riddance. ↩︎
  2. I will be writing about the Dana Girls for my newsletter at some point; I want to write about all the kids’ series I read growing up. ↩︎

If You Could Read My Mind, Love

Work at home Friday, with a Costco trip after I get my work done! I also have to get some blood work done today (yay! my arms will continue looking hideous before all these bruises heal at long last; good thing I am far too old to be vain anymore), but c’est la vie. Que sera sera, and all of that. I also have to run by the office–I forgot some paperwork I need to work on, and I can’t find my wallet. It’s not in the house and it’s not in the car, so the only place it can be is at the office; although I looked for it there yesterday and couldn’t find it. Sigh.

You may have noticed lately that the images I’ve been adding to my blog so there’s a thumbnail image on social media have not been muscular men. Honestly? I’m kind of bored of them, to be honest. There’s a gradual sameness after a while, and I also recognize that sharing images of impossibly built young men whose entire lives revolve around maintaining that look (that most people can never achieve) may be contributing to some toxic body image issues for some men; I know I spent years trying to be physically perfect and always coming up short because of my own body image issues (there are some pictures of me from when I was really lean that I originally saw and thought, maybe another ten pounds? but now I look at them and scream eat something bitch!). So I thought I’d take a break and start using other images that I find interesting–and I have tons of pictures I’ve taken around New Orleans over the years. Maybe I’ll go back to hot guys again, but right now I’m just not feeling that.

In other exciting news, I’ve been looking for Chapter Ten of the new Scotty and not been finding it anywhere…to the point I was beginning to think maybe I hadn’t written it after all. I FOUND IT YESTERDAY MORNING! Huzzah! I was worried, since I’ve blown the deadline and the extended deadline…which is why I am having a ZOOM meeting with my editor on Sunday. I really need to get back on the writing horse sooner rather than later. But the enforced break caused by my illness again gave me lots of time to think about things, especially my writing career, and also allowed the stirrings of ambition to start rising again. Not a bad thing, really. I have to finish this Scotty and there are two others that I want to finish drafts of by the end of the year–possible, always possible–and I also want to get back into writing short stories.

And reading. I need to get back to reading, and the sooner the better. Saturday I am planning on reading my own manuscript while working on the house, and hopefully I can also dig further into Christa Faust’s The Get Off, which is superb. Some people very kindly sent me books while I was in the hospital and they all look good: Vertigo by Boileau-Jercerac (yes, the basis for the Hitchcock film); They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran; People of Means by Nancy Johnson; On Spine of Death by Tamera Berry; The Lilac People by Milo Todd; and Disco Witches of Fire Island by Blair Fell; all of which look interesting…so I must get back to reading very intensely!

I made myself a cappuccino this morning and it is very good; the taste for coffee clearly coming back–and if not, hey, I can just make a cappuccino every morning, can’t I? Yum! I feel a bit more rested this morning–Sparky let me sleep an extra hour before becoming obnoxious. But he’s also sleeping with me now, which he didn’t used to do–mainly, I think, to track my movements in case I get up to feed him–but hey, I’ll take it.

If you enjoyed Andor, I highly recommend watching Rogue One again; the series enhances the movie significantly, and makes it even more powerful. Paul and I both agreed, and I love how the TV show flows into the movie and then into Star Wars (I will never call the original anything else). When Star Wars clicks, it’s excellent; unfortunately, it doesn’t always click, alas.

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

Statue of Pharaoh Khafre, Egyptian Museum

When I Grow Up (To Be a Man)

Thursday! Wasn’t sure I’d make it this far this week, but here I am, wide awake and sipping coffee–the taste for it is coming back; I was rather jittery yesterday morning but am glad the taste is coming back because I’ve really missed my morning coffee. I am also getting stronger every day, which is nice. I walk around the office every hour or so, just to get my legs back under me. Eventually I hope to start walking in the neighborhood, and maybe someday I can get back to the gym to tighten everything back up again–everything just sags now. I was always afraid that I was destined, like all the men in my family, for Southern redneck body; where you look like a potato on tooth picks and have to wear suspenders instead of belts. I was never terribly worried about that outcome, as I have always had big legs and a big ass. NOT ANYMORE. My legs are all scrawny, and my ass is gone. Sigh.

Good thing I’m too old to be vain anymore, right?

I thought we’d finished Andor the other night, but was very delighted that the final three episodes dropped yesterday, so we got to finish it last night. Huzzah! (And yes, there will be more about that at some point.) I loved it–even more than The Mandalorian, which was a very high bar to clear. I think we may rewatch Rogue One tonight–which, outside of the original, is probably my favorite Star Wars movie.

I made a colossal mistake on social media the other day, but I thought it was something that bore making a comment. I read three or four consecutive threads by different “Christians” analyzing and trying to explain why people are atheists, which was kind of amusing because it isn’t that deep: most atheists believe in nothing. You’re born, you live, you die, and that’s it. It’s not about hating God or Jesus or authority. Sure, there are atheists who hate religion…but not the religion itself, but the organized version. So, I just posted It amuses me seeing Christians tie themselves up in knots trying to understand atheists. Why do you care? So, of course, “Christians” came at me with torches and pitchforks, almost every one of them assuming I am an atheist, which isn’t correct. The best description for me is something like agnostic; because I am not arrogant enough to think I know all the answers or what is true or not. It’s not for me to know, right? That’s what always bugs me about the cosplay Christians: the arrogance in their faith and lack of humility–which is kind of what your Lord and Savior was all about? Only two–two!–gave me an actual Christian response: we are taught to worry and try to save lost souls. Everyone else failed. SHOCK, I know. My own relationship with religion is complicated–I was groomed into Christianity since I was a baby by family and society, so I never had a choice until I was older: my ass was parked in a pew twice on Sundays and once on Wednesdays after we moved to the suburbs. I have, as I said, complicated feelings about religion, and I’ve been working on an essay about that very thing for a number of years now, so I may just get back to work on it for my newsletter, which has been dormant since I got sick. (UPDATE: Every day I feel better, but I am still a little on the fatigued side.)

I also realized that I am actually taking a steroid, which has made me a little more on edge than I’ve been since I started taking the anxiety medication. I got really angry in the car on the way home last night, and I was puzzling about it until I remembered, idiot, of course you’re feeling aggressive, you’re taking a steroid, dumbass. I also took some Vitamin b-12 this morning, so I am feeling very good. I still have a bit of a fatigue, but I feel so much better. I also started, of all things, moisturizing. I’ve always had pretty decent skin, but this illness has made it very dry and flaky. I commented on this when I saw my specialist last Monday, and he told me (he’s an older white man, but probably younger than me) that I was “ashy and needed to moisturize”–which took me aback, that he knew what “ashy” meant; I assumed he got it from The Real Housewives of Atlanta–so I asked some of the Black ladies I work with for recommendations (EOS lotion, and original Dove moisturizing soap) and I can’t believe what a difference it has already made! I told Paul I was going to have to come up with a beauty regimen since I’m older and can’t just coast on good skin anymore.

As you can see by the length of this, I am slowly getting better by the day. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader!

The Pharaoh Akhenaten the Heretic, from the Egyptian Museum

Lean on Me

Wednesday! Wasn’t sure I was going to make it this far, to be honest. But I’ve put in two full days at the office, have started pulling the house back together and making my life orderly again. I need to be orderly in order to feel settled enough to write, for one thing, and when my house is out of order I get antsy and uncomfortable and anxious. The house is filthy, so I am going to spend some time on Saturday cleaning and getting everything back into the kind of order it needs to be in, you know? It makes me feel more content somehow, and trust me, my workspace is an utter disaster area. Sigh. Sparky, of course, is no help.

I was going through my short story files last night, and I really do want to write another New Orleans Sherlock story–“The Adventure of the Voodoo Queen’s Necklace”–about the great hurricane of 1916. That will predate the one I’ve already published (“The Affair of the Purloined Rentboy”), so some things that come out in that story will still be unknown in the new one. I’m getting excited about writing again, which is a very good thing, methinks. I think maybe the illness was kind of the enforced slow down I needed? I was getting pretty burnt out as it was, and sometimes I just need to chill out and let the batteries recharge. I did manage to make it through another full day at work yesterday, but the fatigue level was plenty high by the time I got home from work. But I managed to get things done, which was lovely (again, Sparky was no help at all) and we then settled in to watch Andor–which is amazing. I wanted all of Kyril’s clothes. I’ll probably talk more about that sometime, how much I loved the show, that is.

I was very tired when I got home last night–so tired. I did manage to work on the kitchen and make dinner–always a plus–and yes, I’m fidgety and unable to keep still (I guess I had enough of that in the hospital), so am always getting up to do something. I wasn’t able to read last night, unfortunately, because I am getting back into Christa Faust’s amazing The Get Off (there really is no other creative force and voice in the world than hers), so maybe tonight when I get home. I have to get the mail, too, and was thinking about stopping at Yogurtland, which is near the post office; I love soft serve frozen yogurt and should stop there more often. My appetite is back (with a vengeance) so I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble getting the thirty pounds back on. My skin has also dehydrated and become ashy and flakey, so I am going to have to start using a moisturizer.

This morning’s coffee is tasting better–I was worried I had lost my taste for it this week as it’s been tasting terrible–but I also changed the filter in the Keurig and that probably has helped some on that score. I am feeling a lot better, if still weak and fatigued, which is a relief. I am eating normally again (although as I said, hungry all the time), which is great. I need to eat more healthily, but I’ll worry about that when I start gaining weight again. I’m still under 190, which feels weird and yes, I look very gaunt and skeletal. But there are worse things, and at least I am on the mend at last, right?

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

David Florentine is a local photographer who takes incredible images of New Orleans. Follow him on social media!

Strong Medicine

It’s so nice to be readjusting back to normalcy–or what passes for it around here.

Sunday when I got home from the hospital, I kind of just took the day off to resettle and start putting the house back together. Sparky was sulky and made sure to let me know he wasn’t happy about me being gone for so long. All I am these days is a food dispenser anyway. But Paul and I settled into the living room and finished The Four Seasons, which we really enjoyed a lot more than we thought we would; caught up on Hacks, which is finally getting back on track this season; The Studio, about which I have some thoughts; and started Andor, which we are really enjoying–no analogies to be drawn from the show to where we are heading in the US, eh? We watched more of it last night; it’s probably my favorite Star Wars show thus far.

My mind has lain fallow for so long, but I did have a book idea while I was in the hospital (like I really need another one?). It’s a good idea, and it’s basically taking a failed manuscript and rebooting it into this one, which I really like the idea of. I also need to write that short story I came up with while sick; looking through my files there are all kinds of things I need to finish. I would like to publish some more short stories, and I have so many that need finishing or revising extensively; I hadn’t realized it had all gotten so out of control. Sigh. But this week is about getting reacclimated to my reality, such as it is, and so I need to buckle down and get to work this weekend. Paul was taking care of all the chores while I was sick, and I am grateful–but now I can’t find anything and I need to get the kitchen back under control. I worked on that a bit last night, but I was exhausted after going back to the office for a full days for the first time in weeks. I’m still a bit wobbly on my feet, so I made sure to take walks around the office every once in a while. Slowly but surely, right?

Sparky the Starving got me up just before six this morning, but on the other hand I was able to load the dishwasher and fold a load of clothes–which I won’t have to do after work tonight (huzzah!); but I noticed last night while we were watching Andor that I kept getting up to do things–which I hadn’t been doing since I got sick. So I am getting back to myself, too. (I can never just sit still and watch the TV without getting up to do something periodically.) I also have a ZOOM call scheduled with my editor this weekend so I should be getting back on track with the writing again soon. Fingers crossed!

I need to make a to-do list. And I seem to have lost my taste for coffee, which is very weird. I’ll be trying to get that back for sure!

And now it’s off to the spice mines. Have a great Tuesday, Constant Reader!

Brandy

April is the cruelest month.

I started feeling off, if you will recall, during Saints & Sinners. I couldn’t shake the fatigue, but I also didn’t handle it properly, since I apparently never learn anything. I had a big physical crash and have been sick now for several weeks. Woozy, foggy-brained, dizzy, nauseous…I’ve been able to work remotely so the financial hardship has just been all the testing and Lyfts (can’t drive). and IV’s and whatever. It’s bad, of course, but I’m not going to be stressed about any of that, because it won’t do any good. I’ve slept a lot (one of the new medications for this caused drowsiness, which also made dizzy, and I fell a few times. My mind has been foggy off and on, too. But I did write a lot of essays and short stories in my head (only one of which I remember, of course), and this hard reset has also given me a chance to reevaluate, reexamine, and rethink a lot of things. I need to make some life changes, and stop just passively pass through life the way I’ve been doing. I also thought a lot about the past and my writing, and knowing I’ve been feeling defeated with my career for a while now. Don’t get me wrong; I’m doing fine…but I want to do better.

Someone also died recently, and it kind of shook me to the core. I’m not ready to talk about it yet (then why did you bring it up?) because I want their family and friends to grieve in peace without being bothered with my narcissistic writings. It did make me realize how horribly selfishly I’ve always remembered and discussed the event that brought us together, which was another slap in the self-awareness face, and it also made me think about finally writing about it, because it’s always about me, isn’t it?

I owe emails. I owe articles. Hopefully now I can start getting all that together.

What a Fool Believes

I’ve always been a fool, but my brain has always worked to convince me that is not the truth. (Spoiler: it is. I am constantly amazed at how foolish I am, or have been, which is one of the many reasons I second-guess myself all the damned time.) I often deceive myself that I handle things better than I do, and it seems I often don’t have the necessary distance from things to evaluate them properly.

I finally wrote about my friendship with Dorothy Allison yesterday on my newsletter; if you are so inclined you can click there and read it (you can also subscribe while you’re there, or not, it’s up to you). She died right after the election, and I never like to share my grief publicly (still fighting that “never bleed in public” training from childhood), because it’s personal to me. Doing the reading on Sunday, I realized I was finally in a place where I could mourn her publicly. Likewise, I didn’t want to do the last-minute reading in honor of Felice Picano because it was too soon. I’ll write about Felice one day, probably this summer, when someone or something will remind me of him and I’ll know it’s time. I hate being at the point in life when you start losing friends with greater regularity. That’s the thing they never tell you about getting old–being older means getting used to loss, and really, that’s about it.

Yesterday was a decent day. It was slow at clinic so I got a lot of my admin work caught up, but I wasn’t all there, if that makes any sense. I wasn’t tired, but just felt…drained. Not sure what that was about, so I came home and did chores, watched LSU win the regional semifinal by breaking 198.00 again (GEAUX TIGERS!), so they’ll be competing in the final tomorrow, and we started watching The Residence, which got off to an interesting start before I went to bed early. I feel pretty good this morning, have some work to do here, and then later will run errands. I mean, I feel as good as I can giving the fact that retirement is beginning to look like it won’t be an option for me ever–and what is most likely is involuntary retirement because of funding cuts. Thanks again, MAGA voters, for giving me another reason to despise you with every fiber of my being–and other people might forgive you at some point, but I never fucking will, and I’ll go to my grave hating and despising you fucking racist and homophobic pieces of shit. The only thing that is getting me through this stress is the grim satisfaction of knowing they’re suffering even worse and they know it’s their own fault. I will never stop belittling and mocking them as long as I have breath in my body. Staying positive in the age of negativity is definitely a challenge…especially now that Wall Street has cratered and we are on the brink of a world-wide depression that is no one’s fault but our own.

I also realized that today’s title really works, because I still cling to the belief that somehow we’ll survive this illegitimate regime and it won’t get that terribly bad. I’ve been bankrupt before, I can live through it again, I suppose. But this is what the Republicans have been pushing for since the Reagan misadministration, which I’ve been saying for fucking decades, only to be dismissed as lightly as Cassandra on the walls of Troy (I really would love to write from her perspective; I can imagine no curse greater than being able to see the future only to have no one believe you. No wonder she went mad)? There have been few, if any, good Republicans since the party was overhauled when everyone who’d really experienced the Great Depression1 was dead and couldn’t remind everyone of the policies that led to that disaster. And here we are, almost to the hundred year anniversary of the stock market crash and the depression that followed.

Americans never learn from their history and always repeat it. We are not a nation of smart people.

And on that truly sad note, I’ll head into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I will definitely check in on you either later or tomorrow.

  1. Worth mentioning that the collapse of our economy led to the same thing, only worse, around the world, which led to the rise of fascism. In true American narcissism, the Great Depression is always taught as an American issue, rather than a global one–another way history is taught incorrectly. ↩︎