Category: short stories

Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You?

Tonight, Oshun and Cleopatra roll down St. Charles Avenue to kick off the Uptown parade season, and I will be trapped in my neighborhood tonight through Sunday night. Next week is the true insanity, beginning on Wednesday and going for almost a week. Yay for Carnival! I have a shit ton of things to do today, personally and professionally, so it’s going to be an interesting all-over-the-place kind of day. I’m meeting a friend for dinner at five fifteen, and will have to walk about six blocks to get there, but that’s not a big deal so long as my Achilles tendons don’t get out of control. I just need to keep my wits about me today, not get distracted, and keep nose affixed firmly to grindstone or else the day will go completely off the rails–which nobody wants or needs. I also have a meeting this morning and lots of work-at-home duties to get done today. AUGH. A busy busy day for me, and not off to a good start, as I didn’t get up early but lolled in bed late.

It didn’t rain on Wednesday night, so I didn’t feel as deeply rested yesterday morning as I had Wednesday morning. Maybe I should get one of those rain sound machines to sleep with? I don’t know if the noise will be as effective with the chilly wet air, though. I used to have easy listening CD’s a hundred years ago–morning rain, forest, waterfall, etc.–but don’t think I ever used them. It also didn’t rain last night, either–and the sun is very bright this morning. It’s about forty-eight degrees outside, which isn’t terrible. I am not certain if I’ll go out to the corner tonight or not–will depend, actually, on how tired I am when I get home from dinner. But for now, I just had some toast and finished my first cup of coffee and am feeling pretty good–so we’ll see how it all goes, won’t we?

Maybe the saddest thing that happened this week was the death knell of a once-great urban newspaper, the Washington Post. Nowhere in anything I read about this latest butchering of the paper did anyone note that there was a lot of backlash to the Post after Jeff Bezos cancelled the paper’s endorsement of Kamala Harris because his fellow pedophile and favored candidate wouldn’t like it. I recently subscribed to the Post–despite my disapproval of them, it was a good deal and they had book coverage, sports coverage, and recipes–and got a great deal at ninety-nine cents per month for digital access, so I figured a dollar wasn’t much to give them, and would cancel when that rate lapsed and went back to normal. It sure didn’t take long for them to make my dollar a waste of money, did they? I also didn’t see anyone else drawing a line from Watergate to right-wing hatred of the Post and this final vengeance for taking down Nixon. (Likewise, they’ve also managed to neuter the New York Times and CBS; the Times reported on the Pentagon Papers, and CBS opposed Vietnam. Conservatives are nothing if not vengeful and vindictive, and can carry a grudge for a very long time.) I had misgivings when Bezos bought the Post, but it took him ten years to take an Elon Musk-like chainsaw to the Post. He’s a monster. I wonder how many kids he raped on Epstein Island? You know he was there.

I think the funniest thing to be about all of this is that the Chatelaine of Castle TERF is in the files. That’s right, that bigoted old bitch who “wants to protect girls and women” is in the Epstein files and was buddy-buddy with him. I knew her fascination with the genitals of children had a much darker origin. Maybe she hates trans kids because she wants to know what genitals they have without checking before molesting them? Yeah, she wraps her bigotry in piety but when you’re friends with the biggest pedophile and sex-trafficker on the planet? Miss me with your concerns about women and children, bitch. The irony that she happily climbed in bed with the Christofascists who’d tried to get her “satanic” books banned and removed from libraries is equally delicious. She jumped into bed with the actual pedophiles and hung around with Epstein. So much for any moral authority she tries to claim. She hates queer people and loves pedophiles. Quite frankly, she deserves worse.

It’s easy to see why religions like Christianity have taken hold–because its basic message is one of elitism and exclusion: we’re going to heaven. Plus, there is nothing fair in this world and there is rarely any justice, so how do the rich and powerful keep the poor and the working class from revolting and guillotining them all? Give them a religion that promises every gets what they deserve in the next world with no proof! It’s easy to see why faith became so popular in the old days–don’t worry about no justice on earth–they’ll get it after they die is some impressive gaslighting, maybe the greatest example of it in history. There was a reason the French Revolution didn’t target ust the upper class–they also targeted the Catholic Church and abolished religion (which often gets left out of the lesson). The promise of the afterlife enables the rich and the powerful to do whatever they please, no matter how heinous, because well, God will send them to hell.

The Olympics have already started, and some of the team figure skating competition has begun, with a good showing by the US team so far, which is very cool. I don’t know how much of the Olympics I’ll be able to actually watch–there are two parades tonight, six tomorrow, and three or four on Sunday. I have to run errands this afternoon so I can get them out of the way because I won’t be able to do much driving after four tonight until Sunday night/Monday morning.

I actually worked on my dystopian story yesterday and it started flowing easily–probably because it isn’t hard to imagine an American dystopia in the near future. But it also felt good to be writing again, and that’s always a good thing. Hopefully I’ll be able to get it finished this weekend.

And speaking of the Epstein files, someone gathered the Epstein emails as an easily searchable Gmail inbox. Just click and you can see if your favorite oligarch or celebrity is there!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

Seriously, no one does parade floats quite like New Orleans krewes.

If I Were You

Wednesday! We have almost made it to the weekend…and parade season. I don’t know why I bother thinking I can get anything done during the parade days. We’re going to try to make a Costco run on Friday and get back home before the streets close; I also have dinner plans and will have to walk there. I slept really well last night, as I was very tired when I got off from work and after running errands on my way home from the office. It’s raining–supposed to clear by nine, with no more rain for the rest of the day, and we’re back to normal February weather after the rain ends–fifties and sixties for the first parade weekend. I think the rain had something to do with the good, deep sleep, because rain always makes me sleep deeply. But I am awake, feel rested, and that’s good. I dragged some yesterday, hitting a wall in the afternoon so had to fight the urge to not run the errands after work, but I somehow managed. But it was a pretty good day at work, I stayed current on everything and caught up on a few things. I even forced myself to finish the laundry and get to work on the dishes, but forgot to run the dishwasher before i went up to bed, so will turn it on when I head out to the office.

It’s weird to feel so awake and rested in the middle of the week, but we’ll see if I can make it through the day without hitting a wall, won’t we?

But I picked up an insane amount of prescriptions yesterday, and we had a lot of mail, too. My injectable medication arrived, so I got it home and refrigerated. We watched His and Hers, and a lot of the news, to get a grasp on what is going on. the country and it seems almost completely insane–but it has for many, many years. It is interesting watching white people wake up to the hell they’ve wrought upon us all. I particularly enjoyed watching one Chad Watts of Kyle, Texas, getting his ass kicked by kids he attacked yesterday–he naturally went nowhere near the boys, the BIG MAN got out of his truck, pushed a girl down and started swinging on another. The girls were handling themselves well by beating the snot out of him, but their fellow protesters were NOT TODAY SATAN NOT TODAY and turned Mr. Big Man–who clearly only attacks those he perceives as weaker–into a fucking example. Generation Z and Alpha are not having it, and I am with them. These are the kids who’ve grown up since babyhood aware that the rest of the country was perfectly fine with them being slaughtered at school, so are we really surprised they learned run, hide, fight in kindergarten? An adult comes for a group of kids, they are ALL going to come for you because that’s what our gun culture required them to be taught as soon as they could walk. So, seeing a pro-gun MAGA getting his ass kicked by a group of high school kids around the age of fourteen? Chef’s kiss, no notes. These kids have spent their entire lives being wary of being shot in class and you think they’re going to be right wing? Their future has also been throttled, we’re busy polluting the world they have to live in (not to mention all the climate change stuff), and they are aware they may never own a house, have a career, or a family because of the world the previous generation has left for them.

Funny how “but the children”” not only doesn’t apply to making sure they have clean water, healthy food, or clean air to breathe, but their futures. But then the “but the children” people don’t think pedophilia is a un-crossable line, either–despite their trying to blame all queer people for it, right, Chaya, you fucking syphilitic skank? How DO you feel about being played for a fool these last ten years, or let me guess–you’re ploughing ahead with full steam despite the truth slapping you repeatedly in your hideously evil face. I really do need to kill her off in a book soon, don’t I?

Hmmm.

I did actually finish and send out a newsletter yesterday (you can read it here, if you like), about putting together the Scotty Bible to help with continuity issues with the series. I want to do two more, with the second going out on release day (February 10, for the record) and the other maybe between now and then. I did work on my short story a bit yesterday, too, so I am getting back in the saddle of slow going again. Anything, however, is better than nothing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope your Wednesday is marvelous as you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here again tomorrow morning.

New Orleans really spoils us when it comes to parades. Every other parade now seems dull and pointless.

Rooms on Fire

Good morning! We made it to Tuesday, didn’t we? Yesterday was a bit off for me, not going to lie. But I’m up early, didn’t hit snooze more times than I should, and I am waking up slowly. We’re going to be extremely busy in the clinic today and I am, once again, working an almost full appointment schedule by myself. Heavy heaving sigh. But tis the trials and tribulations of one Gregalicious life, and all one can do is bear it and power through. I do feel less wrung-out than I did yesterday, which is, clearly, a strong and steady improvement over Monday’s horror. It really wasn’t bad, actually, I just felt kind of inside-out all day. Work was its usual, and I stopped to make groceries on the way home–amazing how what I got would have cost about fifty bucks last year but is almost eighty now. Sigh. But we have to eat, don’t we?

We watched another episode of His and Hers last night, which is a very interesting show. I don’t think there’s anyone in the show to root for–they all seem like pretty terrible people, and we are learning everything very slowly, which is interesting but also doesn’t really draw you in because you don’t completely understand. It’s more observing than actually watching, if you know what I mean? It’s very well done, and it’s always fun to look at Jon Bernthal (who should be a bigger star in my opinion). The Beauty drops another episode tomorrow night, so tonight is looking like another His and Hers episode or two. I have to run errands tonight after work–have to go all the way uptown to get the mail and some more prescriptions–and I need to do a load of dishes and a load of laundry, too. Stay focused. I also want to work on the short story I started this weekend. I have a great idea for a story for an anthology that was recently announced, I just have to write the damned thing now. I really need to write something fictional soon–the creative writing muscles are atrophying as I type this.

I was also thinking more about Judgment at Nuremberg and societal guilt some more yesterday–and the subject of “what do the everyday people think” that this movie kind of addresses. The short story–set in a slightly future dystopian Louisiana–has me thinking about all of this sort of thing. I had always believed, since childhood, that the South was utterly and completely racist–and whenever I read a historical novel set during Jim Crow and before Civil Rights that centers heroic anti-racist Southern whites I roll my eyes. (Don’t even get me started on the To Kill a Mockingbird nonsense.) But as I read more actual Southern history, and talk to my dad about it more, turns out the South really isn’t a monolith–there were Southerners who opposed secession and fought on the other side, which sometimes led to horrible atrocities–a distant relative fought for the North, came home on leave, and was skinned alive by the Home Guard (sometimes you supposedly can hear his screams late at night in the back hollers)–aka the Confederate version of the Gestapo. The power structures of the Southern states were in the hands of the racists and the Klan (the argument could be made that they still are) so whites who actually opposed Jim Crow were also afraid. (One of the many striking aspects of Tananarive Due’s The Reformatory was the white family who were in the Klan that the teenaged Black girl worked for; the daughter, who reluctantly helps her, knows Jim Crow is wrong but will only do so much out of fear.) So, were Southerners who opposed enslavement and secession but kept quiet out of fear for their own safety any different from the everyday Germans just living their lives under an evil regime, without the power or safety to do anything? Again, that brings up that morality question–does silent opposition matter when atrocities are being committed?

This is why reading Black authors writing about the South is so important. Progressives are so frequently told we live in a bubble and not reality; but people who don’t read authors from different demographics are also living in a bubble of supremacy and racism that bears no resemblance to reality. (As well as Due, read Wanda M. Morris and Cheryl Head, for a start–and S. A. Cosby is always a sure bet.)

I had a lot of laughs yesterday at the pathetic white people outrage as the casting of gorgeous Lupita N’yongo as Helen of Troy because “historical accuracy.” Just out of curiosity, how many ancient Greeks are actually in the cast? Or Greeks, for that matter? Were you there and can conclusively state Helen was a white woman? Her father was Zeus, who fucked her mother in the form of a swan, and she was hatched from an egg. How many Greek gods are being played by actual Greek gods? Just say you’re a racist piece of shit and miss me with your coward-ass dog whistling.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I will be back tomorrow.

I will never stop being awed by how insanely beautiful Henry Cavill is….

Talk to Me

Monday morning and it’s still cold. Go figure. Parades start this very Friday, and if it’s cold, well, I won’t be bold. I am not going out there to get sick from being out in the cold, and besides, I’m old. Maybe it’s all that history I read where someone old caught a chill that developed into pneumonia and death within days. As much as I joke about it, I am not in any rush to leap into my grave (or the crematorium, as it were). I just don’t like being sick–and last spring I was sick enough to last me for a lifetime, thank you very much. I am about ready for this cold to take a serious hike. Although apparently tomorrow’s high is going to be seventy? But then it gets cold again for the rest of the week, but not nearly as bad as this weekend and today are going to be. Layers, layers, layers.

Yesterday morning was disrupted by the power outage. It was only out for an hour, but it was enough to disrupt the day and throw it off track. I did read in bed under my blankets with my coffee until the power came back on, which was lovely. After which, I went downstairs and read while watching the news. I was pleased that Carlos Alcaraz won the Australian Open (I am no longer a fan of anti-vaxxer Novak Djokovic). After Paul got up we finished The Night Manager before moving on to His and Hers, which is interesting so far. I do enjoy Jon Bernthal, so there’s always that. (I didn’t like his take on American Gigolo, which could have been really great, but we didn’t finish.) I didn’t get a lot of anything done yesterday, overall, but I did get some chores done and the house won’t take much to look orderly. We’ll see how I feel when I get home. I have to make groceries on the way, but that’s not a big deal. I have some dishes to do and such, but other than that and straightening out the kitchen rugs, I think I am pretty caught up on the house? There’s no laundry left to do, the dishwasher is empty and ready to be loaded, so once I put away the groceries, I can do that.

The news, for the most part, has been good lately–or at least, better than it has been. This weekend’s Epstein reveals were staggering, and are only going to continue to get worse and worse. Murder? Rape? Torture? Cannibalism? How nice that our modern elites looked at Caligula’s court and said “hold my beer”, right? I mean, we’re still living under a fascist government, so the news can only be so good, you know? Minneapolis is still under siege, the Supreme Court continues to be a joke on the regular, and day by day the trash that voted for him to “own the libs” are slowly peeling away from him because the hellish policies of the mad king are affecting them, too–which “isn’t what they voted for.” Aw, shucks, sugar, we warned you and you mocked us–and while I am pragmatic enough to understand we need them to turn on all of this and vote it out; but that doesn’t mean I am forgiving anyone. Even those of us who voted for the lady with the weird laugh own this, too–because we’re Americans, and we could have done more to stop this. None of us get to say we aren’t responsible for this because it is our government, we’ve allowed this all to happen, and now we all have to come together to rebuilt it all back together and clean up this fucking mess.

That was part of the reason I wanted to watch Judgment at Nuremberg again–we haven’t finished, we only got about forty minutes into it–because of the entire notion of societal responsibility and guilt. After the war, the common German people–who’d seig heil‘ed and gone to the rallies and threw flowers and cheered the military parades–weren’t allowed to look away from their government had done in their name. The question of “true believer” or “too afraid to say anything” is something that can never really be answered. I was born sixteen years after the war ended in a neighborhood filled with war and post-war refugees from eastern Europe. I was shown the military films of the freeing of the camps in elementary school. I learned very young that fascism and Nazism were both evil. My childhood and teens were filled with stories of the MOSSAD tracking down Nazi war criminals, all over the world. There was a lot of World War II historical fiction out there, too, and even more fiction about Nazism rising again out of the ashes of history–William Goldman’s Marathon Man, for one, and Ira Levin’s brilliant The Boys from Brazil–and I did see Judgment at Nuremberg in my teens, which got me interested in the day-to-day German people, how the scourge rose to power, and what they lived through and experienced. We were taught that Nazis and fascism and antisemitism were societal evils…and that we Americans, with our freedoms and our democratic republic, were morally superior. (We were not–and in our American arrogance we also believed that such a thing could happen here.) Now we are in a situation (again) where our government has turned us into a rogue, authoritarian wannabe dictatorship–just as the Roman republic declined into an autocracy. Don’t blame us! we post on social media in response to foreign scolding, we didn’t vote for this!

How does that make us any better than the former supporters saying this now? The American penchant for dodging responsibility is perhaps our worst, most narcissistic, societal and cultural flaw.

And on that somber note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and try to stay warm if you can.

The dragon float arrives at the Orpheus Ball

Sable on Blond

And now it’s another abominably cold Sunday morning, and its back to the office with me again tomorrow.

Sparky was hungry so I got up around six, staggered downstairs and fed him before heading back up to the warm nest of blankets in my oh-so-comfortable bed. I woke up again at seven, went back to sleep, and when I woke up again, the power was out. I gave Sparky some treats, got my book, and went back up to bed–no power, no need to be out of bed, right? I read a few chapters of The Secret of Hangman’s Inn, a reread of an old Ken Holt mystery for kids1 before the power came back on, and I did have some thoughts–about how danger is real in these series, and yet–but it can wait until I finish. The kitchen is still very cold this morning–I am going to have to get a space heater down from the attic this morning because it is so fucking cold in the kitchen/workspace.

That’s the lengthy explanation of why this is being written and posted so much later in the morning than I usually do–my daily routine was disrupted and I am trying to recalibrate my discombobulation and turn it into something productive. The house is kind of messy; I didn’t really do as much cleaning yesterday because of the cold and used that as my excuse to not do much of anything, really. I was busy watching Youtube videos about Melania and enjoying numerous cruel laughs at her expense. Iy wasn’t the best week for the treasonous MAGA trash, was it? May it continue to get worse and worse by the week, day, hour and minute. As for the “I didn’t vote for this” assholes, yes, you fucking did. Every single one of you is an accomplice before the fact to everything that has happened since 1/20/25. We warned you, over and over, and you laughed in our faces and said fuck your feelings.

Which is exactly how I feel now. Fuck your feelings, You voted for this, stop whining and live with your fucking decision. You want absolution for destroying the country? Drink fucking bleach, or get to work fixing this mess, shut the fuck up unless you’re doing the actual work, and fucking bite your tongue whenever you feel like fucking whining again. They’re coming for Obergefell, just like we all said they would.

Oh, the Melania documentary? I’ll wait for the one from Dateline, thanks.

Apparently we are also in a boil water advisory, because a water main in Uptown–in either Riverbend or the Black Pearl, they didn’t say the neighborhood only the streets, and I am not confident about my neighborhood boundaries anymore, since realtors seem to invent new neighborhoods and change the boundaries on a daily basis. I have plenty of water on hand–thank you, Britta pitchers I always keep full–but in all honesty, I am surprised there weren’t more, given how cold it was, in all honesty. Our infrastructure is all so old and crumbling it’s a wonder the city functions at all.

We started rewatching Judgment at Nuremberg last night–can’t imagine why–after getting caught up on The Night Manager–and I actually went to bed early. All this extra sleep and my daily routine being disrupted has been kind of an interesting departure from normality. I should probably consult my to-do notebook, shouldn’t I, as I head into the spice mines this morning? Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning again before I head to the spice mines tomorrow.

  1. The Ken Holt series is one of, if not the, best kids’ mystery series. Part of tmy reason for this reread is to write an essay for the newsletter about Ken Holt and why it was such a favorite of mine. ↩︎

Long Way To Go

I slept in a little this morning, until His Majesty King Sparky, Lord of the Lost Apartment, had enough of waiting for his meal and got me up. I feel rested–it really is amazing what a difference waking up naturally (rather than to an alarm) makes. I have to brave the cold today and run some errands, but I intend to get back home and inside as quickly as possible. This morning feels like a read in my chair morning with a blanket draped over me before getting cleaned up and running errands while slurping coffee, which absolutely sounds marvelous. I want to get some writing done today. I had an idea for a short story yesterday for a call for submissions I really would love to do something for, and I would like to get some of that done today or tomorrow. I was also thinking about other stories, and Chlorine, while I worked on the apartment, and also made some notes, which was pretty cool.

Yesterday was a lovely day around here–not so much in the outside world, as ever and always, more on that horror later on–in which I got up, got cleaned up, did my day job duties, and started cleaning and organizing the apartment. I got all the laundry done, a start on the books again, and started organizing the laundry room/pantry shelves. I tried reattaching the exhaust hose to the dryer vent numerous times, but it kept coming loose again, turning the room into a sauna briefly. This is going to call for drastic measures, methinks, like Gorilla tape or something similar. But the shelves in the pantry are starting to look neater and more organized, which is always a plus, you know? And very pleasing to look at, you know? I do still like neatness, organization, and tidiness.

I had the news on while I cleaned and organized and occasionally sat down for a break. I greatly enjoyed all the news about the Bezos bribe documentary, Melania, which might be worth streaming for free for the unintentionally funny parts. (Paul does the best imitation of her opening line from the shitty trailer, here we go again, that is so eerily spot on it creeps me out while making me laugh at the same time.) I doubt that it will become a cult classic for midnight viewing, like Showgirls or The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but you know it’s laughably bad. The review in The Guardian was hilariously brutal; I’ve bookmarked it to go back and read it again whenever I feel down and need a cruel laugh to cheer me back up, and who better to laugh at than the soulless Slovenian concubine? The latest Epstein files drop was particularly horrifying (I don’t think most of us have the creatively evil kind of imagination to even consider how horrible all of it actually is–but all you have to do is look at what this vile regime is doing to simply distract us from it to know that its filled with unimaginable horrors. I’ve always said killing the kids was all a part of it, and that was just scratching the surface; the start of the unspeakably vile horrors on that island and various other places. I mean, they arrested a journalist, kidnapped a head of state, killed Americans and Venezuelans, and bombed Iran (unsuccessfully). It’s big, its huge, and the national security of any number of countries are also involved–and we would see behind the curtains at last to see how the wealthy elites have been enriching themselves at our expense in order to do this kind of shit.

The guillotine is too merciful for these pricks. And I hope Don Lemon sues the fuck out of all of them for violating his civil rights, wrongful arrest, targeted prosecution, and abuse of fucking power.

God, how I hate them all.

I have been thinking about my next short story collection, This Town and Other Stories, and finally got the notebook down with the manuscript and notes to take a look and see what I have for it, and what else would need to be finished to finish the collection, and was very pleased to see that I’ve published and sold enough stories since the last time I thought about it that I do have an entire collection of published stories, and won’t need to do write any new ones for it, except as perhaps a bonus for the readers? But we shall see, won’t we?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines.

Ole Smokey, the Orpheus train float, is one of my favorites.

Nothing Ever Changes

Tuesday of our latest arctic blast, but all is comfy and warm inside the Lost Apartment, which is lovely. The dry heat used to bother me–it still bugs Paul–but I’ve adjusted to it and it’s not the worst thing in the world. I mean, we could have to be out protesting in the streets in below zero temperatures (Minnesotans are making me very proud to be American, because fuck this fascist bullshit, now and forever.) I even saw an anthology call for short stories yesterday with the theme American Gestapo and you can bet your ass I am going to write something for that call. I have more than a few things to say about the collapse of American democracy, and a lot of scorn for those who cheer the decline and fall. I, for one, never expected the Reich-wing flip-flop on carrying a gun and gun ownership1, but these are indeed the strangest of times. And now it looks like the siege of Minneapolis might finally be ending; Bovino the Temu SS officer has been fired, and hopefully, that disgusting pile of filth known as Kristi Noem will be thrown under the bus along with him. Was this third government execution of an American citizen a turning point? Maybe, at long last. (So far, they’ve killed a black man–most people don’t know that part; outrage grew over the white woman; and exploded over the white man…as it ever was and is and will be.)

I mean, when you’ve lost the NRA and Greg motherfucking Abbott, it’s really is time for some serious self-reflection, isn’t it?

It’s cold again this morning, but it’s going to warm up a little before the next arctic blast (worse than the first) arrives later this week. We’re talking single digit weather in New Orleans, of all places. It’s going to be a weird weekend. I am going to try to get everything errand-wise finished by Friday, so I can stay indoors from Friday evening to Monday morning. Tis very cold here in my bay windows this morning, but it was pleasant at work yesterday (as opposed to our last cold spell, when the office was freezing). I slept so well last night–that pile of blankets was incredibly warm and comfortable and cozy last night, and I really hated to get out from under them this morning. When I got home from my errands last night (I had also ordered some groceries for delivery, too), I changed into my home-clothes (sweatpants and a hoodie and slippers), and sat down in my chair to read for a bit and watch the news before doing some chores, but Sparky had other ideas. He plopped into my lap and went to sleep…and then I was so comfortable, between him and the blanket, that I really never got back up again, other than for something to drink or snacks. It was entirely too comfortable, really.

Yesterday wasn’t bad at work, either. I wasn’t in the clinic after all, so I spent the day doing Admin stuff and getting caught up on everything–I’m never really very behind on anything anymore, but letting things slide always gets me in trouble. We’re slow this week, too, so I should be able to be all caught up on office work by Thursday when I leave. Huzzah!

I also finished my first promotional newsletter for Hurricane Season Hustle, which you can read right here! I need to do at least another one–the book officially drops on February 10–and I am getting really behind on the newsletters, aren’t I? The goal was once a week, and I’ve strayed very far from that initial ideal/goal over the last couple of years. I have so many started….and I really need to get more done, especially since (as with everything) I keep getting more ideas for them all the time! Heavy heaving sigh. It’s very hard to get things done, though, when I’m cold–but I need to stop giving in to the easy laziness and power through, don’t I?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and stay safe and warm–especially those in Minneapolis and Maine. I’ll be back tomorrow!

  1. Funny how they change their tune on everything, isn’t it? Suddenly the people who need a fucking AK-47 to go get coffee at Starbucks claim if you carry a gun in public the cops or a federal agent can shoot you? But, no, we’re the brainwashed ones… ↩︎

Wild Heart

Saturday and the cold is coming! It’s going to be in the teens Monday and Tuesday! AIEEEE!!!

Okay, now that I have gotten the expected reaction to cold on its way, it’s not that big of a deal. Yes, it’s going to be unnaturally cold this weekend, starting with rain later on today and working its way down to the painfully cold temperatures we’ll experience tomorrow. I can handle the cold by wearing layers to work or anytime I have to go outside while this abysmally cold weather goes on.

And gloves. Must find my gloves. I am going to attempt to run some errands and make some groceries today–no big deal if it’s insanely crowded and I wind up not wanting to deal with it (one never can be sure how New Orleans will react; the shelves may be empty of things like bread, which I don’t need). If it’s anything like hurricane prep, it could be a nightmare out there today as everyone tries to get everything done today so they don’ have to be out in it tomorrow. There’s a chance of snow or ice, too.

Yesterday was a good day. I got my work duties out of the way, and spent the rest of the day doing laundry and pruning down the books, filling up an insane amount of boxes. You can finally tell that I pruned the books. Anything I’ve already read, gone–unless its nonfiction. If I’ve had it for over ten years–donate it. They were paid for and the authors (or their estates) got their royalty from buying my copy, so I don’t feel as guilty about not reading everything I’ve ever bought. I am not going to feel guilty for not reading everything I’ve bought–the author made money off me, and what more can I do for them? I certainly don’t expect every author I know to buy or read all of my books.

Going through the books was also a trip down memory lane–oh I was on a panel with him or oh I saw this author on a panel and was impressed or oh yes I read one of her books and loved it so I bought all of her books or he was so nice! whatever happened to him?-which was also kind of nice. I’ve met a lot of really talented people over the course of my writing career!

I was also a lot more ruthless this time, and can still be even more ruthless the next time I prune the books. As I was pruning, I marveled at how the urge, the nonsensical need to always be surrounded by books, isn’t as strong as it used to be–so it was due to the anxiety I no longer experience to a such a high degree. I used to think I always wanted to hoard books out of a fear of not having something new to read whenever I was ready to read something. But, as I pruned ruthlessly yesterday, I didn’t agonize over the decisions and was very cut-and-dried with them. I also realized that I had an almost parasocial relationship with books. When I was a kid, I felt disconnected from the world and like I didn’t belong in it and that everyone could tell I was different, and different meant freakish, weird, strange and always just a step away from a total ostracization and complete isolation from other people. Books, and my imagination, were tools for me to escape my existence into somewhere safer, where I wasn’t weird or strange but just normal. Books were always my lifeline, offering not just the escape but comfort, and filled that role my entire life. Shitty job and miserable existence? Oh, there’s a new Stephen King, Sue Grafton, Elizabeth Peters, or Robert Ludlum novel to pick up at the bookstore! (I rarely ever used the library because I preferred to own them; I needed them around me to feel safe and comforted in my amped up anxiety. My dream was always to live somewhere that I could have my own library…I don’t find that to be as important to me anymore, either.) I also used to reread a lot–usually when I didn’t have a lot of time to lose myself in a book, I’d just take down something I’d already read and spend my reading time revisiting something I’d already enjoyed.

I also started work on this version of Chlorine, trying out a new opening that makes a lot more sense to me than the one I was convinced for years was the best way to open the book. We’ll see how it goes, won’t we?

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close so I can get started on my day. Have a lovely Saturday, stay warm, and I’ll be back to see how you’re doing in the morning, ‘Til then!

Pretty young Hunter Doohan, an out gay actor whose work I’ve enjoyed

Smoky Mountain Rain

Epiphany! Twelfth Night! Carnival begins! I made groceries on the way home from work last night (we were busy all day), and picked up our first King cake of the season–it may be the last, actually, because Paul was home when I got home from work, and we spent a good portion of the evening getting caught up on everything and making plans. We both want to be healthier this year, and work on getting into better condition. He’s going to start by changing eating habits now; I am going to wait until after Mardi Gras to get started because that will fuck me up with going to the gym and so forth; it always does, and then I can’t get back into it again.

Or maybe I am just delaying working on it because I don’t want to really get started and am procrastinating again. It’s a mystery, as always. (We are interrupting this post to remind Gregalicious that he is not to be self-deprecating or hard on himself in 2026; and this is dangerously close. REBOOT! REBOOT!)

I’ve always loved today’s title song, and one night when I was driving to Kentucky through the Smoky Mountains, it started raining…and I remembered the song and a story popped into my head, about a woman fleeing a crime, heading north on I-75, and stopping at a rest area, where through no fault of her own other than having to pee, pulls into the midst of another crime. I’ve never written the whole story out, either–called it “Smoky Mountain Rest Stop”–but when I was driving up there this last time, one of the problems I had with the unwritten story was security cameras…and there was a rest stop that said NO SECURITY PROVIDED. I made a quick drive through their parking lot and sure enough, no cameras…and I renamed the story “No Security Provided,” which is a MUCH better title1.

I also finished my newsletter review of The Postman Always Rings Twice and got it out of the way; I am working on yet another to send out this weekend (hopefully). I was a little bit done in when I got home last night–not fatigued, but a bit tired–and so never made dinner last night, nor did I do any chores. I got sucked into The Cult of the Real Housewife documentary on HBO, about Mary Cosby from Real Housewives of Salt Lake City. It was…interesting. I still have another episode to go, but am not really sure about it. It’s highly entertaining, and I may have some unconscious bias going on (because I enjoy her on the show), but…I just don’t know. Yes, it is weird she married her grandmother’s widower and had a child with him. But that church is small. How could that fund her extravagant lifestyle, even if it is a cult and they are all giving her every cent of their money and so forth? It seemed like a lot of innuendo without concrete proof of anything; they did use some clips from Bravo, so they had to have permission, right? I’m not sure how that works, but there had to be some cooperation from the network. Curious that no one from Bravo is in it, though–co-stars, Andy Cohen, etc.–other than the clips.

It’s also interesting how many housewives have gotten the documentary treatment. Someday this will all be very fertile ground for a forensic social/cultural anthropologist, or a doctoral thesis: what personality disorders make for good reality television stars? I try not to watch shows that feature (and reward) criminal behavior; and I don’t know that I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mary Cosby’s church is a cult. Maybe episode three will be more damning? I’m not sure its against the law to be a cult? They usually wind up violating other laws, which is usually their downfall–or they all end up dead.

Not good options, are they?

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

I love how the colors of the illuminated stained glass glow in contract to the darkness and shadows

L. A. Freeway

And now we are on day two of 2026; so far so good, at any rate. I turned my brain off yesterday and spent the day doing chores and watching football games. The best game of the day was the final one, which saw Mississippi kick a last second field goal to beat Georgia and make it to the semi-finals. The day also saw a rather dull game with Texas Tech-Oregon, before Alabama got flat our embarrassed by Indiana. The Hoosiers are the number one team in the country–whatever that means, I don’t trust rankings that much anymore–but still. I don’t remember ever seeing Alabama beaten so thoroughly and decisively. They might lose, but they are always in it. This Alabama team looked like it couldn’t beat the Alabama team that opened the season getting beat by Florida State. I think that’s the biggest change to college football since the start of this decade–the “brands” don’t mean anything any more other than to pollsters, who are no better than any at-home viewer of the games. I mean, if someone would have told me as little as five years ago that Alabama would lose to Vanderbilt one season and then to Indiana in the next, I’d still be laughing. I would imagine Kalen DeBoer’s seat is kind of hot this morning in Tuscaloosa…four losses per year isn’t going to fly there.

That, I think, is the most interesting development in college football–showing everyone how useless and bogus the polls are. They’ve revamped and rebooted everything in the sport pretty much already; would ignoring and/or mocking the polls be too much of a stretch. The NFL doesn’t have polls, they have records–perhaps that is what college football should move towards. You don’t need polls to drum up interest in college football games.

Yesterday was very nice and lovely. I wound up deciding to shut off my brain and let it recharge for the day, and that’s exactly what happened all day. I didn’t think at all, which was terrific. I didn’t even brainstorm or do much of any type of thinking. I did start reading a nonfiction history of Alabama from the nineteenth century (Pickett’s History of Alabama and Adjoining States; my dad gave me a copy, which also reminded me of how much Alabama and Appalachian research I’ve done over the last few years, looking into legends and lore of the region for my own writing projects), but didn’t get very far into it. Today I get to work at home for a while–also have a meeting–and am having dinner with a dear friend this evening. That seems lovely, doesn’t it? I also have chores and reading to do today when I am finished working, but I am primarily going to try to get the house handled before dinner. There are no games tomorrow (Saints play Atlanta on Sunday), so I have all day tomorrow to do writing and reading around here. Huzzah! I’m enjoying all this extra time off, but readjusting to a normal work week is going to be a real drag. Yay for next week! But there’s also another holiday three day-weekend this month, too. And soon enough, it will be parade season.

Yikes, indeed.

But I am also thinking today is going to be a good, productive day, and so will this entire weekend. I won’t berate myself, though, if none of that happens. Taking it easier on myself is definitely one of the goals for the year; one of the best things about being healthy again is the forgetfulness is mostly gone; it still happens, of course, but not with the degree of frequency it used to have. I also am not tired all the time anymore, which has also been heavenly. Now that I am physically healthier, I’m having to get used to being anxiety-free all over again. It’s actually lovely, to be honest. I’ve never known life without anxiety, which was the root of so many issues for me, and my entire life was built around coping mechanisms to relieve anxiety and the concurrent mood shift. Now, I can choose whether to use that coping mechanism or not; and if my choice is a wrong one, I can just shrug it off and move on. I think part of the reason I am so optimistic about the new year is because I am facing it without a lot of the issues that have always made life so challenging for me.

I did have groceries delivered yesterday, so I am good on that. I might make groceries tomorrow, and get the mail, but other than that, I should be home for the weekend, and it’s not a bad way to see in this brand new year, is it?

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and get some more coffee, maybe have some toast, too. I will be back tomorrow morning, so have a great day, Constant Reader!

Getting so close to Twelfth Night and the beginning of Carnival!