Category: short stories

Ridin’ My Thumb to Mexico

Tuesday! We survived Monday, Constant Reader, and lived to tell the tale. Huzzah for us! I also gave myself my first Skyrizi1 injection on my own, and it was pretty easy and simple. Before anxiety medications, I would have undoubtedly worked myself up into quite the tizzy about the injection, but as I said, it was pretty easy and before I knew it all the medicine was in my system and I could toss the device into the SHARPS container in my testing room. I didn’t even bleed, or feel the needle at all. Also, the first time I did it, with the pharmaceutical company’s nurse watching and helping, I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids so couldn’t hear it running. Not a problem with the hearing aids in, though! It actually sounded rather loud, frankly, so if there was any doubt about whether they help me hear better, there’s the answer.

I also spent some time yesterday filing my claim with the Anthropic settlement. They had eighteen of my titles (!!!), which was time consuming to enter each book into the claim database, but it could have been worse; they didn’t have all of my titles, praise Jesus. I doubt I’ll ever see a cent from this, but hey, I certainly wouldn’t had I not filed a claim, right? But it was sobering to see how much they stole from me–thought they had a right to steal from me–but we are again living in the time of the Long Con, aren’t we?

Speaking of long cons, I woke up to the news that Dick Cheney has died2. We used to call Darth Cheney back in those pre-Tea Party pre-MAGA pre-Obama days, because he was a horrible, evil man whose primary concerns were getting us into endless wars so the company he used to work for, Halliburton (remember them, anyone?), could make billions in profit. The Republicans of that era used 9/11 and its aftermath to consolidate power, pass the egregiously unconstitutional PATRIOT Act (the foundation for the bullshit we’re seeing today), and the creation of Homeland Security. Remember how quickly the “fiscally conservative” Republicans spent through the surplus Clinton left behind, and pissed all over the budget and the deficit? But hey, so long as Halliburton was profiting from the wars, right? They lied to the American public to get us into Iraq, and no one was ever held accountable, which is part of the reason we’re in the mess we’re in now; we don’t hold politicians accountable for lying to the citizenry.

And don’t even get me started on the homophobia of the Bush-Cheney years. He participated in a campaign that targeted queer people and homophobia despite having a queer child of his own, if that tells you anything about who, and what, Dick Cheney was. He eventually publicly changed his mind about queer people and marriage equality, but he never acknowledged or apologized for his war crimes, or his crimes against the American people. Y’all can mourn him all you like; but his family has always been just as bad as he was–and his daughter’s anti-Trump turn didn’t make up for all the bad shit she has said and done over the years, either–and the widow is just as vile as her husband, if not more so.

I also made groceries on the way home from work last night. I wasn’t tired, which was odd; it was a slow day at the clinic and so I was able to get some other administrative work done, which was very cool. Paul was working on a grant, so I spent the evening watching videos for research on Youtube and taking notes. I worked on a novella for a little while (A Holler Full of Kudzu, for those who take note of these sorts of things), which was fun–I do like creating without any deadline pressures on me–and I love that I am sliding back into writing mode again. I do love writing.

I also finished my final Halloween Horror Month newsletter for 2025, about my recent reread of The Haunting of Hill House, and why I love the book (and its author) so much. It may be the best essay I’ve done for the newsletter so far; which probably has everything to do with how much I love the book, and writing about it. I am always so nervous to do those kinds of essays; one of the reasons I am so insecure about them, especially when exploring the art of others, is that I don’t have the kind of educational background I feel might be necessary. I’ve not read scholarship or articles or essays about literature or film or television; my insights therefore might not be so fresh or original as I think they might be; is anything really original anymore? But…my opinions are just as valid as anyone else’s, and why do I need to read the opinions of others to form my own? Confidence is always the name of the game, and working through and ignoring the lack of it in my brain can only help me grow as a person and as a writer, right?

Easier said than done.

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

Um, SIR YES SIR!!!
  1. This is the medication for the ulcerative colitis I have to inject every eight weeks. ↩︎
  2. He was 84, only a few years older than the current head of his party. ↩︎

Let the Mystery Be

Ah, it’s Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It’s currently 54 degrees in the Crescent City (it was supposed to dip down into the 40s for the low; maybe it happened while I was sleeping), and it’s light outside. I also get to give myself my shot this morning by myself, but I’m not terribly concerned about that–no anxiety here!–because there are instructional videos on Youtube, for a worst case scenario. I can also tell it’s about time for it, as I’ve had some very small stomach issues (nothing major or disruptive) over the course of the weekend. The Saints apparently got pummeled again yesterday, too–I imagine there aren’t many people around who remember how hapless they used to be, so this recent turn of ineptitude is probably a big shock.

At least we managed to win a Super Bowl during that run, you know?

We watched Jurassic World: Rebirth1, primarily for Jonathan Bailey and dinosaurs, and Bailey didn’t disappoint, and some of the dinosaurs were really cool…but the plot was stupid and the movie was really poorly written, clearly relying on the dinosaurs (and Jonathan Bailey) to make the viewer forget how abysmal the film actually is. When it ended, Paul said, “I am so glad we didn’t pay to see that in the theater” and I couldn’t do anything other than agree. I mean, it’s usually not a good sign when you’re rooting for the dinosaurs, right? (Except for Jonathan Bailey…hmm, sensing a theme in this paragraph) Scarlett Johansson was pretty kick-ass as the leader of the “extraction” theme–they are being sent into the dinosaur area to retrieve blood for medical research from the biggest dinosaurs (land, sea, air) which also doesn’t make sense…since the way it was explained only said they needed it from a large dinosaur, so why not just get it all from the first big one you encounter? Because, silly viewer, there would be no movie after the sea dinosaur! Contrived, contrived, contrived…and none of this shit made the least bit of sense. I know, I know–but DINOSAURS!

Yeah, sorry, I still need a plot and story that make sense and don’t have holes big enough to drive an aircraft carrier through in my monster movies. And really, that’s all these movies are–monster movies with cash grab sequels. I think I’ve only seen two before this one: the original and one of the sequels with Chris Pratt, who I didn’t know yet was a garbage piece of shit person. He is the worst Chris. I doubt I’ll watch another of these movies, and I certainly would never pay to watch one, for sure.

Yesterday was a nice, relaxing day. It was a good weekend overall, really. We got Paul’s new phone set up, we drove out to the mall so he could get some new clothes for a gala event he has to go to this week, and then we went all the way to Kenner to get him some new over-the-ear headphones, because the best Christmas gift ever (the original ones I got him almost nine years ago) wouldn’t sync with the new phone (much like how my hearing aids don’t with my new phone), and we got him some nice new ones, that synced up immediately. We watched the movie at night and I mostly just did chores and some research yesterday on Youtube–primarily watching videos about Southern/Appalachian lores and legends to research for potential stories of my own (one synced up nicely for an unfinished young adult novel I want to get done in 2026), which is quite marvelous, really. I still haven’t made the to-do list that’s absolutely necessary for me to stay on track this week, which I need to do today. The good news is I feel alert, rested and mentally alert, which is always a good thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader–remember, Christmas looms on the horizon–and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, I promise.

  1. I actually read the Michael Crichton original novel before it was filmed. ↩︎

You’re the Reason Our Kids Are Ugly

You can always count on country music for great titles, you know? “Drop Kick Me Jesus (Through the Goalposts of Life)” remains an all-time favorite title for anything, really. But it’s Sunday morning of the time change, I got to sleep a bit more than usual, and I am feeling pretty good this morning. Paul was worn out from working on a grant into the wee hours of the morning yesterday, so we didn’t run any errands yesterday. I cleaned and organized for the most part–it was so lovely coming downstairs to a very clean and neat and orderly kitchen–and worked on filing and so forth. I decided to just give my brain the day off and not worry about either reading or writing anything or pressuring myself into something out of guilt, and it was kind of nice and relaxing.

I did watch some football games yesterday–well, had them on while I was doing other things, at any rate. The games I had on yesterday were Vanderbilt-Texas, Oklahoma-Tennessee, and Georgia-Florida. No one I was rooting for in any of these games won, and it was particularly galling to root for Tennessee and Florida1 (both of whom I despise), only to have them lose. They were all good games that kind of came down to the wire, and I was really hoping that Vandy would finish their comeback; they came soooo close. I’m rooting for them to go to the playoffs, to be honest; I almost always will root for an underdog program like theirs to shine when it gets a chance, you know? It’s also not being vested in the season anymore, too; now I can just kind of watch from a remote distant and make observations.

What I did do for the most part yesterday, as far as intellectual stimulation is concerned, was revisit The Haunting of Hill House a bit as I worked on my newsletter about the book and why I love it so much. It is such an extraordinary piece of writing, with so much left vague and uncertain that it’s very easy for the reader to fill in the blanks and interpret the story and the characters in their own way–and it’s also possible to read it very differently every time you read it, gleaning new thoughts and interpretations with each reread (like Rebecca, which also should be taught). I’m hoping to get it finished and posted either today or tomorrow, as part of Halloween Horror Month’s last gasp, which also includes reading another horror novel, too. (Finishing the one I started–the Scott Carson–before returning to The Hunting Wives and moving forward from there.) And props to me, he typed modestly, for really sticking with HHM and focusing on it. I had also wanted to rewatch Scream 2 and A Nightmare on Elm Street to talk about; I even thought about rewatching the original Halloween again, so I could write about all of them…but I managed to do most of the things I wanted to do for it, so it’s a win that I am feeling pleased on this chilly Sunday November morning.

And isn’t that mentally healthy? Before anxiety medication I would be bashing myself and feeling like a lazy loser, which has always been a self-perpetuating thing for me anyway. I consider that excellent progress, and by accepting it as a victory rather than as a loss, maybe I can start being a little kinder with myself. I would always set the bar for myself so damned high that it would be impossible for 99% of people to clear, let alone me, so I could berate myself and go through the entire “you’re such a lazy loser” cycle of mental self-abuse, including such treasured gems of self-defeat like this is why you never get anywhere or way to prove all those awful people right and on it goes, spiraling down into the Pit of Despair.

I really hate the Pit of Despair, and never, ever want to go back there.

We also watched this week’s The Morning Show, which was interesting and good (during the second half of the Tennessee game), and probably this evening will watch some more of our shows and possibly the Jurassic World movie we never got around the seeing in the theater this summer as well as our other shows, including The Diplomat, which is most excellent.

I’ve not commented on the weirdness between the couch-fucker and the the non-grieving, grifting widow in pleather pants so tight she must have gotten a yeast infection, mainly because the unholy alliance everyone is predicting developing on social media doesn’t interest me in the least. Yes, people grieve differently, but if there was an actual investigation into the gum-challenged one’s murder, she would be suspect number one; how many times have we seen someone convicted incorrectly because they didn’t grieve their spouse/children the way everyone thinks they should? I know one thing; if Paul was murdered, there would be no pyrotechnics and high production values for his funeral, and I wouldn’t be getting groped on national television mere months afterward. But sure, it’s same-sex marriage that is unnatural, right? My dad is still not over my mother, and it’s been almost three years.

Then again, Dad loved Mom. Not judging the Widow, mind you, but I do find it strange, but MAGA evangelicals are strange. Imagine if the Widow were Hillary Clinton, and what MAGA would say about her in this situation.

And on that note, I have some filing and reading to do. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning before I head into the office.

  1. I did see that Auburn somehow lost to Kentucky; which should be the obituary for Hugh Freeze’s career there. Glad I didn’t watch that. ↩︎

Season of the Witch

Happy All Saints Day! And welcome to November, I suppose. This year is slipping away like sands through the hour glass (hat tip: Days of Our Lives), but the terrorist attack of New Year’s seems like it was a million years ago, too. When I think about where we are now as opposed to where we were ten months ago, though…it seems like a decade has passed since my New Year’s blog, doesn’t it? I slept deeply and well last night, and Sparky let me sleep later (although he got his razor blades trimmed yesterday, so him smacking me in the face in the morning doesn’t have the same impact) than I usually do, so that was nice too. We have to run some errands today we didn’t get to yesterday, but that’s fine. LSU isn’t playing today so I don’t have a vested interest in watching games today, so I don’t really care to be home for them all day, either. I probably won’t get any writing or much reading done, but…I also am not going to worry about it. Yes, time is slipping away, but I also need to allow myself to get rest and be lazy without beating myself up about it all the damned time, too. Progress?

Perhaps. We shall see.

I also have to pay some bills this morning before we do anything, and probably get some of the chores done, too. I made good progress on chores yesterday; the bed linens all got laundered, the dishes are done and put away, the counters are cleaned and cleared, and all I really need to do is vacuum the rugs and mop the floors, and potentially prune more of the books down. I need to be more ruthless, too.

The backlash to governor Janky Jeff’s massive interference with LSU apparently taught the moron some sort of lesson, because he backed the fuck down after Scott Woodward (best of luck to you, sir, you worked wonders at LSU and I am sorry Janky Jeff decided to show his ass) was fired. To paraphrase Mean Girls, “he didn’t even go there.” He also got some pushback when he tried to force Loyola (a Jesuit Catholic private university in New Orleans) to charter a chapter of Turning Point USA after the student senate flatly rejected their application, mainly because they don’t share the same values as the Society of Jesus. Bitch slap! I was glad to see a Catholic university stand their ground against political interference from TEMU Huey Long. Don’t stand with the evangelicals, Catholics–they will come for you eventually as idolators and papists and pagans. They don’t think you’re real Christians in the first place, so less than what they see as “white.” Janky Jeff is not popular in Louisiana; only 19% of registered voters even voted in that gubernatorial election because we had no options. All the candidates were different degrees of MAGA, anyway. I don’t even remember who I voted for, but I have never cast a ballot for Jeff Landry and I never will.

I can only hope to be seated in the jury for his inevitable trial for corruption and malfeasance. No, they wouldn’t seat me, because no one could ever convince me he isn’t guilty.

Then again, Jindal was never charged with anything. And he definitely should have been; his wife was just as corrupt as Casey DeSantis, and the corrupt always corrupt. (Note to everyone: their women are just as bad as, if not worse, than their husbands. See: Usha Vance, Melania Trump, Lara Trump…the list is lengthy.)

Sigh.

My mind is still deeply entrenched in horror, by the way, which is something I don’t remember Halloween Horror Month doing to me before; maybe because I was always trying to finish a book before the end of the year? This entire decade has been mentally draining and fatiguing, frankly, and I’ve had a lot of brain fog and increasing loss of memory. I do wonder occasionally about how different my career would be had I gone into horror rather than crime; rather than just being a fan. I did want to write horror when I was in my twenties, and even tried. I laugh now when I remember thinking my personalized rejections with suggestions and tips and encouragement to keep writing and submitting to them, from horror magazine editors, was just them being nice. Editors are never nice like that, ever, as I have since learned. I guess I was so down on myself and had such a lack of self-esteem (as well as knowledge; there was no one to tell me differently) that I focused on the rejection rather than accepting the encouragement. Each rejection was further confirmation that I was a loser, and I was in such a spiral of misery in the 1980s there wasn’t any way I could have seriously pursued being a writer. I don’t have regrets–I never do–but sometimes I do wonder. I played the cards I was dealt and everything eventually turned out, didn’t it? But I am going to try to work on some things tomorrow, since I don’t have to leave the house at all and Paul is, I think, going to his office.

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

Bury a Friend

Thursday morning and my last day in the office for the week. We’re busy today, and I am working alone in the clinic. Yay. I imagine I will be very tired tonight when I get home from work. Meh, it happens. I wasn’t so tired when I got home last night and got quite a bit of daily minutiae done: laundry, dishes, made groceries, and picked up a bit. Paul wasn’t home before I went to bed. If I’m not that tired tonight, I should be able to get some other chores done so I don’t need to worry about them this weekend, and I can focus on writing. I also finished my newsletter about Scream and why I enjoy it so much, check it out if you are so inclined. I still have at least one more Halloween newsletter to do, which I am going to try to get done and posted no later than Saturday; depends on how much time I have and how rested I feel. I feel good this morning, though; another good night of sleep is in the books.

Praise be, seriously.

The weather did turn yesterday, too. It was very windy, and that wind was cold. When I went out to get the groceries from the driver last night, I was shivering as I pulled the wagon back to the apartment. It’s in the fifties this morning, and the high is only going to be about sixty-seven or so. Autumn is finally here. We’ll still have the occasional really warm, sunny day, but the weather will be bipolar from now until after Carnival. The time change is also this weekend, which means going to work in the dark and coming home after dark. (It always bugs me when I am at work during the only hours of sunlight during the day; it feels oppressive.) The downstairs floor also felt cold to my stockinged feet this morning before I found my slippers. Yay! Now that we have a heating system that actually keeps the apartment warm, I welcome the coldness because I feel so snug and comfy inside…and that’s probably my favorite feeling these days.

Turns out the escaped monkeys were not infected with anything, so they were all slaughtered for no good reason other than it was easier to shoot them, rather than catching them. Heavy sigh. I hate waste, really. (Speaking of which, I need to clean the refrigerator, too; add to list.) So, yeah, not nearly as interesting or exciting as initially reported, truly a tragedy after all, and no interest in writing about it anymore….but it’s not a bad idea; escaped plague monkeys in Mississippi, coming from Tulane. Too bad Bad Monkey is already taken as a title. Monkey Shines would be a good title, though…so is Monkey Business.

It’s a thought.

And of course I am already writing the first chapter–the truck driver’s POV–in my head.

I’ve not really done much writing this week the way I wanted to; I really do need to update that to-do list, don’t I? My goal was to get a good first draft of Chlorine done in November, and then work on some short stories and novellas in December before getting a first draft of Muscles done in January. A lot of it has to do with finding a way around fatigue and trying not to get burned out at the same time. I mean, I can write a frigging shitload of words when I am inspired and have the time; so again, I am starting to resent having to go to work every morning…and have to remind myself that I love my job, and I need the health insurance. Some day, though. Some day.

And on that note, I am going to finish eating breakfast and head into this morning’s spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday and I will see you again tomorrow morning, okay?

Ghost Town

Monday morning and back to the office with me in a little bit. It is very dark this morning, and I kept waking up all night, too. But I feel okay this morning, if a bit tired, and that’s perfectly fine. It is the last week of October, after all; but I am going to run my Halloween Horror Month into the weekend as well. It was a nice weekend overall. I loved the rain and the coziness of it all on Friday night and most of the day Saturday and even into Sunday. Next weekend we also gain an hour of sleep–which means it will definitely be dark every night when I come home from the office. That always feels a bit oppressive, but I’ll live through it, I suppose.

LSU fired Brian Kelly yesterday, after Saturday night’s embarrassing debacle in Tiger Stadium (the students apparently were chanting “Fire Brian Kelly” in the fourth quarter), so the season is pretty much over now for sure. Interesting that we’ve fired every coach since NIck Saban left two decades ago…but Kelly also breaks the streak of three consecutive coaches winning a natty, too. I was never a fan of Coach Kelly–he never impressed me when he was at Notre Dame–and I also thought the way he fucked them over to come to LSU was kind of shitty. But he was hired and deserved a chance to prove himself, but after that first season’s win over Alabama and Jayden Daniels’ Heisman Trophy (both of which were more due to Daniels’ talents rather than anything else), he kind of has been on a bit of a skid. I have no idea who the new coach will be, or what will happen with the players, but here we are. Things are really not looking well for Louisiana football this year, with only Tulane really holding up the state’s football honor.

Who would have thunk it? Roll Wave!

I started reading Scott Carson’s Lost Man’s Lane, but after binge-reading Holukoa Road on Saturday (you can read my review of it here, if you like) my reading brain was a bit fried yesterday and I didn’t get very deep into the book. We binge-watched the rest of Alien: Earth yesterday, which was a lot of fun and very interesting. I also got the Scotty epilogue done and turned in yesterday, so for now I am going to bask in the glow of being finished with that before diving into anything else. I don’t think I have anything else promised anywhere, so I can focus on things I want to write and see what happens to them when I throw them at the wall, right?

I also watched Scream 2 yesterday, and rewatching it so soon after a Scream rewatch reminded me of how much better the first was than the second. The second was good, don’t get me wrong; but it wasn’t as ground-breaking and clever as the first, nor was it as layered. But it was clever; it just wasn’t as clever as the first. Next weekend I’ll probably watch Scream 3, the original trilogy, and will most likely watch the next three before the release of Scream 7.

Tonight after work I have to run some errands on the way home, and then I hope to get a few chores (dishes, mostly) taken care of once I get home. The weather is going to be more fall-like after today–this week has highs in the upper sixties/lows in the fifties, which won’t be a ton of fun, but I am embracing it this year. LSU also has the weekend off, so I won’t be as pressed to watch football games this weekend, and that’s also fine. I have better ways to spend my time, although I can always read while a game is on in the background. I’d like to get the Carson book finished by the end of the weekend, so I can move on to Church of Frendo, but after that I think I am going to read a new-to-me classic crime novel; maybe something by Dorothy B. Hughes or a revisiting of Charlotte Armstrong. I also want to get a lot of books taken to the library sale Saturday morning.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines with high hopes for another marvelous week here in New Orleans. Have a terrific day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

Unholy

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. Huzzah, I think. I felt good yesterday, and read a lot further into Hokuloa Road, which I am also really enjoying (more on that later). It was, overall, a nice and relaxed day here in the Lost Apartment. Sparky was good cuddle-boy all day, too, for the most part. He still does his best to get me up at six every morning, but much more intensely when he hears the alarm go off. He knows that means I have to get up, and so he is more persistent on those mornings (like this morning). But I feel rested and good, which is always a better way of starting the week rather than feeling tired, which is how last week developed, and that tired feeling lasted through the week and most of the weekend.

I did some chores yesterday and made progress on getting everything organized and filed away, around reading the book. I also made some progress on other things, too, which was very cool. It was nice having a productive weekend for a change, other than one where I am trying to get rested and nothing much gets done. The LSU loss Saturday morning also kind of killed my interest in watching games on Saturday, which helped me get things done. They play at night this Saturday, hosting undefeated Texas A&M, who have never won in Baton Rouge since joining the SEC–they beat Alabama before they beat LSU, in fact–but they are pretty good this year and LSU is not, so…probably be a long night this Saturday.

I also need to revise and update my to-do list this morning at some point. I’m not sure how busy we will be in the clinic today, but when I checked Thursday it wasn’t bad–that obviously could have changed between then and now. We shall see.

It was both weird and nice to spend so much time reading yesterday. I always forget how much I love reading (I have noted, before, many times, how weird it is that I have to force myself to do things that I love), until I really get caught up in a book. I was hoping it would rain yesterday, but alas–it was not to be. That would have been lovely–raining outside, snuggled under a blanket in my easy chair with Sparky and a cup of coffee, all snug while I read. It just doesn’t get better than that, you know? I am planning on reading some more tonight when I get home from the office before doing some chores–Sparky loves to sleep in my lap once I get home for the day–and if I can do that every night, I can make some progress on this out-of-control TBR pile.

As I said, I am enjoying Hokuloa Road. It’s a slow burn, which I like, slowly picking up speed as you go. It’s set on a made-up island in the Hawaiian Island chain (best I can tell; apologies if I am incorrect and the unnamed island actually does exist), which is fun. I love Hawaii, even if I haven’t been back there in thirty years. It was my parents’ absolute favorite place to go in the world; so every year I worked at the airline we’d go. I fell in love with Hawaii myself more every time we went, and the last time we went I broke away and did gay things; went to the gay bars, went to the gay beach every day, and even got laid a couple of times while I was there. It was a lot of fun, and I had always wanted to write about Hawaii–but only did once, in an erotic short story and like Elizabeth Hand, I never named the setting as a Hawaiian beach. (The story was called “The Sea Where It’s Shallow”–one of my all-time favorite titles–and I don’t remember where it was published originally, but I do know it’s in my collection Promises in Every Star.) I worry about exoticizing Hawaii and it’s native people, as a haole. Maybe I should revisit it? I do know that some novels I’ve read set in Hawaii were very much that…

I also started writing a short story this weekend, with the working title “Even Katydids Dream,” and yes, that’s a very obvious Shirley Jackson reference. It was inspired by that call for submissions for one (!) lucky writer to get into that Stephen King The Shining appreciation anthology–and the furor that followed the announcement. I really don’t like when authors call out anthology editors for opportunities they don’t think are “fair.” Fairness has nothing to do with it, for the record, and it’s their anthology; they can make the rules whatever they want them to be. I was criticized by people for the last open call I did for an anthology because they didn’t like my rules–and I replied to every whining email “don’t submit.” (I also tracked them, so I could be certain not to accept a story from someone who established from the very fucking beginning they would be difficult to work with and entitled–and I almost always back the writers, so for me to be critical of writers…yeah.) Nothing is fair in publishing, so get used to it unless you want to be angry all the time.

I’d rather channel that energy into writing, frankly.

The more I thought about the pompous and pretentious complaints I saw over the course of a few days last week, the more I started thinking about writing something in that universe. But what? And then the idea came to me, followed by the title, so I started writing it. I probably won’t submit it to the call–one of the submission rules (the timing) is something I’m not sure I would be able to handle. They are only considering the first five hundred stories, so when the window opens you have to have everything ready to go so you can hit send when the minute turns–and I know myself too well to think I’ll remember to get up early on that day. But I like the story, and I can always strip all that Overlook Hotel stuff out of it and use it somewhere else if I want to. I may not ever finish it. Who knows?

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

Cemetery Drive

Sunday!

This morning, I got up earlier than I have all weekend, and I don’t mind. It rained overnight, so I slept deeply and well. I also had a rather productive day yesterday–one that was going to be a mostly easy day of maybe picking things up around the apartment and maybe doing some reading. After LSU lost (I knew they were overrated) to Vanderbilt1, I lost interest in watching games for the rest of the day; I had the television on, but mostly for background noise. Everyone I was pulling for yesterday lost (with the exception of the Alabama-Tennessee game), so it kind of turned into a theme for the day. So, I would sit in my chair and read (or scribble notes in my journal) while doing things around the apartment, which looks a lot better this morning than it usually does on Sunday mornings. I also shaved my head again–it’s been a hot minute–and did a lot of filing. I am also trying to get my writing projects better organized, and managed to throw out a bunch of shit yesterday, too.

I started reading Elizabeth Hand’s Hokolua Road yesterday, and am enjoying it so far. I didn’t get deep into the book, but it’s set during the pandemic and quarantines, on one of the Hawaiian Islands (I think Hand made the island up wholesale, which is okay with me; I love Hawaii and have always wanted to write a book set on the islands). I love how she writes, honestly; I had one of her books already when A Haunting on the Hill, which was an authorized sequel to The Haunting of Hill House (one of my favorite books of all time), came out, so I thought I’d check out more of her work. I also spent some time rereading sections of Stephen King’s Danse Macabre–the sections about Shirley Jackon’s class novel, to help me prepare to write a long form essay on the book, and dove into the New Orleans/Louisiana sections of Colin Dickey’s marvelous Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places, which also gave me some ideas for future projects. Yes, my mind is flourishing in creative ways again, which is absolutely lovely. I also need to organize/outline my thoughts for an essay series for the newsletter about masculinity, and my prickly relationship with it. (I knew it was going to be long, so it makes sense to plan it, outline it, and publish it in parts.) I also have tons of notes from my rewatch of Scream, too. I also made some decisions about the prep work I need to do to bring Chlorine to its conclusion, which I am hoping to do in November.

It feels good to be thinking about writing again and getting ideas all the time again. The last three years haven’t been easy for me, physically or emotionally, and so I got derailed to the point of not enjoying the writing or creating; it had turned into an odious chore, which I didn’t like, and had me considering walking away/retiring from the whole business for good. Whew, glad to know that’s passed, or that it’s not time for me to stop just yet. I”m also very tired of living in interesting times, you know? I’m still not physically able to go to protests, so I wasn’t able to attend the No Kings event here in New Orleans–but what a turnout all over the world, not just here in the USA, and that gives me some hope that this nightmare will eventually end. Maybe not the way I’d like–guillotines and a basement in Ekaterinberg–but you can’t always get what you want.

But I feel rested and good this morning, which is nice and the point of the weekend, really. I am going to be in clinic four days again this week, and by myself the last two, so I am feeling pretty certain that I’ll be exhausted when the weekends roll around again. But the summer is over, we’re moving into the cooler season here, and the weather is going to be sunny and low 80’s/high 70’s during the days, but dipping into the frigid 60’s at night.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am going to do some filing before reading for a while, and getting cleaned up while maybe finishing the floors. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

  1. Congratulations to Vanderbilt, by the way, and good luck with the rest of your season. Your coach is pretty phenomenal! ↩︎

The Dead Dance

Saturday morning with an LSU game on pretty early, at eleven this morning; I’ll still be drinking coffee at that hour. I slept well last night, which felt good–I love the night when the bed has freshly laundered linens and blankets–and Sparky even let me sleep in a little bit. My coffee is tasty this morning as I wake up and prepare for a day in which I probably won’t do much of anything other than read, watch football, and make notes in my journal. I feel a big tired this morning still, but it’s the final stage of the fatigue dying away. I may do some chores and picking up around here during the games, but I am sure by tonight’s Alabama-Tennessee rivalry game I’ll probably be quite sick of watching football games. Miami lost last night, so the rankings are going to be shaken up again, as they will be after all today’s games.

After finishing day job duties yesterday and running my errands, I settled into my easy chair and rewatched Scream, the original, and was reminded again of just how clever this movie is and why I love it so much. I took five pages of notes! The panel on crossing the line between horror and mystery also resonated and has stayed in my head… and I also remembered some things since, like authors we didn’t mention. I also very proudly finished and posted my newsletter on Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives, which was a rave, and also has me in mind of slasher stories….the one on Scream is going to be a pretty good one, methinks. We shall see, I suppose.

After Scream, we settled in to watch our shows for the evening, before retiring to bed pretty early. I also picked up my copies of the third Frendo book, Clown in a Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo, which sound delicious and a continuation of the exploration of trauma the characters have faced–as well as remembering the rules: in a trilogy, no one is safe in the third chapter–and the latest Donna Andrews. (I am four books behind on her series now.) I really do want to write a slasher novel, and have several ideas for one (my favorite potential title is Where the Boys Die); but I have numerous things I want to write before I turn my fevered brain in that direction. I’m going to work on something for the rest of the month (mostly short stories and a novella) before diving headfirst into Chorine for November. Ideally, I want to have the first draft finished by the end of the month so I can work on something else for December.

I am also planning on revisiting A Nightmare on Elm Street before spooky season ends. And today I am going to dive headfirst into Holokua Road by Elizabeth Hand while I am watching the games, if not starting it before the LSU game starts. I don’t know how LSU will do today against Vanderbilt; they’re pretty good this year, despite their sloppy loss to Alabama in Tuscaloosa. It’s not like LSU has been setting the world on fire this season anyway. So, that game could very easily ruin the energy of the entire day if I am not careful. I also have some short stories to read–I have several horror anthologies and author collections–while I continue to celebrate Halloween Horror Month until the very end.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines for the day. I do have some chores to do this morning as well as some cleaning, filing and organizing. Have a great day, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early and feeling rested, I hope.

The Life of a Showgirl

Work at home Friday and all is well and quiet in the Lost Apartment this morning. Sparky has been fed, so he won’t attack me for a while, and I have a team meeting on-line later this morning. I also have all kinds of on-line trainings that are due, as well as quality assurance and data entry that needs doing, which I will try to knock out this morning/early afternoon. I don’t have to work a long day today, and will have to run errands later. It’s probably foggy out there this morning–it certainly was yesterday morning when I drove to the office–and it is that time of year: fog season. I love the fog, to be honest–I don’t like to drive in it, but I think its beautiful and spooky and all those fun things that make Spooky Season spooky. There’s a New Orleans ghost story novel I want to write–and the fog will help set the mood for it, so it clearly needs to be set in November or late October.

I was very tired when I got home from work last night (still am a bit on the fatigued side this morning), and didn’t get anything done. After I did that ZOOM panel, I was wiped out entirely and repaired to my easy chair and searching for horror movies I want to watch before the end of the month. The panel–the fine line between horror and crime–was very interesting. I did think about it a lot yesterday during the day, and so I hope I didn’t seem as at sea as I felt. I don’t feel qualified to talk about horror other as a fan of the genre–I’m not as well read in the field as perhaps I should be, and I don’t write it very often–so I always have a bit of imposter syndrome when it comes to talking about horror. But I had a lovely time, and got just what I needed from it–more books to read. Heavy sigh.

I’m a little fatigued this morning, too. I have work duties to accomplish today, and errands to run later on. I also intend to start reading Elizabeth Hand’s Holokua Road this weekend, and I have some newsletter essays to get finished this weekend. I want to finish the ones I started about The Haunting of Hill House and Frendo Lives, and maybe work on some more. I also want to do some short story work over the course of the weekend.

My shoulder is also aching this morning, which isn’t a good thing at all. It never has ached like this since the surgery two years ago (has it really only been two years?), but it’s probably from being tired and then sleeping on it wrong, but I do think I need to get some serious rest this weekend. Driving back from Alabama on Sunday before having to work four days in the clinic (as opposed to the usual three) was kind of rough, but I think I handled it pretty well, even if I am a bit more tired this morning than I usually am on a Friday morning. But there’s naught to do but to get to it, is there? I also have to clean up this apartment, which is a disgusting mess…since I wasn’t here last week to do it. I can work on the house when I need a break from the day job duties.

Was anyone really surprised by the leaking of the Young Republican chats, and what these mind-numbingly ignorant bigots actually say and admit to when they think they won’t be held accountable? And again, we have the right ‘defending’ all of this as (wait for it) locker room talk by kids. The youngest was 24 and the oldest 41–that’s definitely old enough to know better, and tells me everything I need to know about the defenders. These are the people who wanted anyone who they deemed to be insufficiently mourning the bigoted weasel Charlie Kirk, but now want to excuse racism, homophobia, and being pro-Nazi? I’ve said for years this is what white people really think, and why they hate/oppose DEI and “political correctness”–but here’s the thing: if you know you’ll get “canceled” for being openly horrible, then you already are aware you’re horrible. You just don’t want to be punished for being horrible, and thus you need to believe everyone else is just as awful as you are, but won’t admit to it…and since everyone thinks that way, you shouldn’t be punished for your “honesty.”

Whatever helps you sleep at night, trash.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning for sure. Until there, auf weidersehen.

Gorgeous Max Parker of Boots.