Category: short stories

Kiss You All Over

Thursday morning last day in the office blog, and it’s also the start of Southern Decadence here in New Orleans. Decadence was my favorite time of year for a very long time, but now I’m too old to stand and walk for hours (let alone dance all night) and I also can no longer handle the heat, so I can’t be out there for very long anyway. The last time I was at Decadence was to pass out condoms in 2017 or 2018, I’m not sure which, honestly, but I do remember it was so hot and humid and so many people were out on that Sunday, that I thought I was going to be sick. It had also rained that morning so…yeah, major league humidity that day. Shudder.

How on earth did I ever spend so much time over a weekend partying and dancing in this kind of heat? I guess the drugs helped. And of course, back when I used to participate in the revelry, I was used to the heat more because we generally went out every weekend, and thus was acclimated to it. Not being used to it anymore is my primary problem with the summers here.

I feel rested with just a touch of fatigue this morning. That’s fine, because I can sleep later tomorrow and so I just have to make it through today. On the way home last night I stopped and made groceries; it was odd because there wasn’t much traffic in the CBD. Since school started, getting to work in the morning is more of a pain because there’s heavier traffic both before and after work now–as well as the bane of my existence, school busses on I-10. After I got home I was a kitty bed for a while, and I did do some work and some chores (that still need to be finished). I did make a terrific and comprehensive to-do list yesterday afternoon as well, which was a good feeling. Tonight after work I’ll probably come home and just rest since I work at home tomorrow and it’s a three day weekend. I’m going to DoorDash lunch today at the office so I don’t have so much to carry in this morning, and thus won’t have as much to carry on the way home tonight, either. I also made an appointment for a flu shot (fuck you, RFK Jr and MAGA, now and forever) for Friday morning.

And of course, tomorrow is the Katrina anniversary. I see there’s a new documentary on Netflix about Katrina, I think called Come Hell and High Water, that I want to watch as part of my coping with it all again to try to get it all out of my psyche. I also need to finish my newsletter about the anniversary so I can get it sent out tomorrow. It’s been such a long time now that I suppose it’s “safe” to talk about things that happened decades ago, but I was tired of talking about them and worse, worried that the audience (here or on panels, etc.) was bored with hearing about it. I never want to bore anyone!

Also, yesterday the anthology Celluloid Crimes dropped, with my story “The Last To See Him Alive” in it! I also realized yesterday I have short stories in three anthologies all coming out over a period of a week or so. Wild, isn’t it? My story is an adaptation of the first chapter of Chlorine, so it serves as a preview of the book to come. (It’s different from the first chapter that will appear in Chlorine, but you can get a sense of the novel’s story from the short story that appears here.)

The weather has oddly remained mostly humidity free and cooler than usual, and we’ve not had any rain now for a couple of days. Interesting.

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

Sweet Talkin’ Woman

Pay-the-Bills Wednesday has rolled around once again, and I am up early, as per the norm. One more day on the office, work-at-home Friday, and then a three day weekend. I have also taken off the Thursday and Friday after Labor Day, because of Bouchercon….so a three day weekend leads into a two-day work week. Ah, well, sometimes it happens, doesn’t it?

I had a good laugh at my own expense yesterday afternoon, as oblivious Greg finally had the proverbial lightbulb come on above his head. I’d been wondering about the fatigue and mental exhaustion of the last couple of weeks (even after the infusion fatigue died away), and even yesterday I was wondering about “maybe” being depressed and not recognizing it since I don’t have anxiety any more…and then it hit me, right between the eyes: The twenty year Katrina anniversary is this Friday! I’ve been reading old blog entries from that time, watching documentaries and videos about Katrina and the aftermath (because I wanted to write an essay for the anniversary), and duh, you think those memories might have had something to do with that possibly-depression? One of the reasons I made Valerie so oblivious in A Streetcar Named Murder was because I, too, am completely oblivious. Some things, apparently, never change. I always am a bit down this time of year. Always.

Yes, I’ve been immersing myself in a very depressing subject and then wondered why I was probably depressed…not much ever gets past me, does it? Heavy heaving sigh. But that’s the obliviousness I was talking about. One can never go wrong assuming I am clueless.

I was also delighted to hear that Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift are engaged. As always, the right lost their minds the way they always do–after all, she’s an anti-Trumper and therefore in their eyes a demon sent from hell to corrupt Amerikkkuh–and I honestly don’t understand why they are always looking to get outraged over things that don’t really concern them or are, frankly, none of their fucking business. See also Sydney Sweeney ad (no one cared except them and a few academics parsing it) and the Cracker Barrel logo nonsense. (They have changed their minds and are keeping the old cracker and the barrel on their logo.) Dean Cain (aka worst Superman ever) made a fool of himself making an ICE recruitment video, which I did enjoy a few cruel laughs over.

All of this begs the question: where are the Epstein files?

So, I am hopeful that tonight I’ll be able to get some things done when I get home. Sparky was needy yesterday because Paul went into his office, so he was home by himself all afternoon…he’s always super-clingy after he’s been left alone, which is very sweet. I don’t know if Paul is working from home today or not–which will determine Sparky’s neediness when I get home, but I just have to remember to pick him up and let him sit on my shoulders (draped around my neck like a stole), which always soothes him and makes him very happy. I did manage to do some of the things on the new to-do list I made up before I left the office yesterday, and I am not berating myself for not getting more done because it was overly ambitious in the first place.

But let me get going with this day and head into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

An obelisk in the Karnak temple with the moon overhead.

And We Danced

Tuesday morning and an easy day at the office was had by me yesterday. The in-service employee development day counted as a full day of work, so I got to leave at two yesterday, which was a rather pleasant surprise once I started figuring out my hours (new pay period; we get paid on Wednesday). I did manage to get everything caught up on that I needed to get caught up on, and that always feels good. Alas, once I got home it was a different story. I ran by the post office to get the mail on the way home (my new coffee mugs!) but once I got home, I kind of ran out of steam. I’d felt a little “off” all day, and when I got home, it hit with a vengeance. I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I was very fatigued physically and mentally…so it was US Open and an episode of Foundation. I also fell asleep in my chair around eight o’clock. Not sure what that was all about yesterday, but here’s hoping today will be a better one. I think we are slow again today in the clinic–no one gets tested the week before Southern Decadence…a proud tradition the New Orleans gays participate in every year; they’ll all be coming in after.

And there will be symptoms.

I feel good this morning, even though I didn’t really want to get up and out of bed this morning…it’s so warm and comfortable under my pile o’blankets. Sparky was even cuddly this morning, around trying to get me to wake up and feed him. He really is a sweetheart…as I look at the scabs all over my hands and arms from his claws.

September is almost upon us–this weekend, in fact–as well as LSU’s football season opening and then it’s Bouchercon, and next thing you know, it’s mid-September. Time does seem to go past much more quickly the older you get. It’s a cliché, but clichés become clichés for a reason. (Same with stereotypes–something I’ve taught multiple times; ‘how to write outside your experience” type things.) I have a lot of things to try to get done next week–people to see, mostly, other than Noir at the Bar on Thursday night–so I really need to focus this week and get ahead rather than falling behind. I do regret being so fatigued yesterday (it feels like wasted time to me, but getting rest when you need it isn’t a waste; I am being much kinder to myself these days), but am not beating myself up over it. I think sometimes I get depressed, but in a different way than most people think about when they hear “depression”–sure, sometimes I used to really get terribly down, but now I’m not truly aware of it until my brain and body show signs, like being tired. It’s also hard because I am still recovering from the physical trauma of being so horribly sick (and getting paranoid every time my digestive system does something or feels off, like it did yesterday–fearing that I’m going to have another episode). There are so many things anything could be! Just getting older, still recovering, maybe depression, maybe anxiety, and on and on and on it all goes.

Heavy sigh.

I also didn’t do much around the house last night. I forgot to turn the dishwasher on yesterday morning before I left the house (I did, however, remember this morning), and I also didn’t pick up anything or vacuum or anything. I was serious when I said I wasted the evening in my chair! Hopefully tonight when I get home I’ll have some energy. I’ll need to unload the dishwasher (and load it again) and I think there’s some laundry that also needs doing, as well as picking up and cleaning and writing.

I also need to update my to-do list.

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

Ah, those Chippendales calendars. In the 1980s, muscle boys hadn’t all started shaving off all their body hair yet…and hairy is a good look for this dude.

Love American Style

Monday and it’s back to the office with me. This weekend is Labor Day, which also means it’s Southern Decadence in the French Quarter, which used to be one of my favorite weekends of the year–when I was younger and had more stamina and staying out all night didn’t put me into a coma for a week. I’m enormously pleased to have an extra day off this weekend, and then of course the week after that is Bouchercon. I am not registered, and am only seeing people I want to see. I used to get excited for Bouchercon as much as I’d get excited about Decadence, but alas–those days have passed as well.

And if my last Bouchercon was San Diego, that’s an excellent one to go out on. I had such an amazing time at that one…it would be hard to top that weekend.

I am sure it will come as no surprise to anyone that I didn’t get much done yesterday despite the best laid plans of mice and men. Paul’s trainer cancelled at the last minute, and so I ended up hanging out with Paul (which is always my choice if it’s an option) while I tried to get some things done. I did make some progress, but we wound up getting sucked into the US Open for most of the day. And of course there’s an entire day of college football this Saturday, capped off with LSU at Clemson in the evening. Everyone is predicting LSU to lose, and given the Tigers haven’t won a season opener since Joe Burrow graduated…I can understand the mentality. I’ve no doubt Clemson will be good this year, and I have no doubt that playing at Clemson isn’t easy.

I do feel rested this morning, I have to say, and that’s a nice feeling to wade into another Monday and a new week. I don’t like being tired on Monday mornings for obvious reasons…and I also have a lot to get done today at the office. No worries, since I am not client facing today so I can get a lot of the Admin work taken care of today and be caught up, which is always a rather nice feeling. I also need to update and rewrite my to-do list, which I also need to keep referring to–at least ONCE a day, as opposed to my usual “make the list and never look at it again,” which is highly counterintuitive. Heavy heaving sigh. And some of the things I have to do this week are absolutely things I don’t want to deal with. Ah, well, tis life, isn’t it?

The weather was insanely beautiful this past weekend; that cold front affecting most areas north of here dropped the temperatures into the 80’s and also displaced the humidity, so it was sunny and gorgeous with cool breezes everywhere. I walked to Walgreens yesterday and didn’t even break a sweat–not even my socks got damp. It’s going to be more normal this week, they say, with the humidity coming back with a vengeance so it’ll be a sweaty Decadence this weekend–which of course is a tradition; everyone drenched in sweat and their brief attire plastered to their bodies. If I could still park at the office on Frenchmen Street, I might even drop by down there this weekend just to refresh my memories of what Decadence is like–or see how it’s different from the last time I went down there (pre-pandemic) or how little it’s changed.

I taped a radio/podcast yesterday morning with host Dan White (who is always fun) along with friends John Copenhaver and Robyn Gigl yesterday morning to help promote Crime Ink: Iconic, which is releasing on September 2nd, next Tuesday to be exact. I was very pleased to hear nice commentary on my story yesterday, and that gave me some high hopes for the future of Never Kiss a Stranger, should I ever complete the damned thing. I also have to pick something out to read for Noir at the Bar next Thursday…it would probably be smart to read from my story from the anthology, but it’s not really noir. I am leaning towards reading “This Town” again; I’ve only read it publicly once, and why not? I am proud of the story and it does lend itself to being read aloud.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader. I’ll be back tomorrow!

Michelangelo’s David’s hand. Stunning, isn’t it?

Night Spots

Friday and I have to go into the office today. No, that’s the wrong attitude. I get to go into the office today! Huzzah! I am going to keep a positive attitude about this day, even if it kills me! (That’s kind of an odd thought, but so be it.) I got to sleep a little later this morning because I don’t have to be at the office until nine for Staff Development Day–which is the kind of thing I usually hate and consider a waste of my time. (I’ve been there for twenty years…) But I am trying to be more positive about things and life in general going forward–who needs to create more negativity in their life–and so I am going to enjoy myself today. After work I’ll probably come straight home and have a lovely evening hanging out with Paul and Sparky, while tomorrow I will get back to writing. I may read some tonight when I get home; we’ll have to see, I suppose. I also have some errands to run this weekend, too, but nothing terribly horrific or anything. I have to make some groceries at some point–not much of anything, mind you, just enough to get through the weekend, and I have to get the mail. I may wash the car and clean it out while out and about tomorrow. We’ll play things by ear.

The extra hour of sleep this morning certainly helped. It’s Friday and I don’t feel fatigued! That’s a win, methinks, and also a good sign going forward, too. Usually I am very tired on Friday morning, and the tedium of data entry and quality assurance inevitably makes my eyes cross by the time I am done for the day and other than laundering the bed linens, I don’t get much else done on Fridays. I do have a dishwasher to empty and a load of clothes in the dryer that need folding, but I can get that done tonight and out of the way for the weekend so I can focus on finishing the downstairs cleaning I began last weekend. I want to finish reading The Hunting Wives this weekend, too.

I saw yesterday that someone has tested positive for bubonic plague in South Lake Tahoe; woo-hoo! The plague isn’t eradicated, I don’t think, we just don’t hear about it that much (I do know there was an outbreak here in New Orleans before World War I) but I have every confidence in RFK Jr the “health genius” who has done his own research rather than having a medical or health science degree of any kind. (You know, if I believed in that sort of thing I’d say the country is being punished by God for its hubris–plagues, earthquakes, fires, floods…they’d be blaming this all on the Democrats if they could. God knows trash have always blamed that sort of thing on queer people…which brings me to yesterday’s good news.

Christofascist and false prophet James Dobson died, and I sincerely hope that it was deeply painful, while knowing nothing could be as painful as that piece of shit deserved. His hellspawn, who should probably be pitied more than reviled (they were brainwashed into heresy from birth), do carry on the family’s toxic faith/business, but they apparently aren’t all that interested in courting fame the way their unholy father did. (I also find it interesting that Dobson named his daughter Danae–which is from GREEK MYTHOLOGY. No Biblical name for his daughter!) As for anyone saying I am terrible for celebrating the death of a monster? I don’t give a shit. Maybe don’t be a monster before you die if you don’t want to be dragged for the filth you were when you go into the ground.

I may even make a pilgrimage to piss on his grave.

I’ve also been laughing my ass off at the morons so upset that the Minnesota Vikings added two men to their cheerleading team. That is going to be the subject of a newsletter at some point–as will the foul James Dobson.

And on that note, I need to get cleaned up and head in for my day at the office. May your Friday be marvelous, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

The moon over the temple at Luxor

Candy-O

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office this week. We’re have a staff development day tomorrow, so I have to go in for the full day. I’m not as bitter about this as one might think, primarily because next weekend is Labor Day so I get a three day weekend on top of working at home next Friday. Huzzah!

Working on my birthday was interesting. Nobody made a fuss1, which was so greatly appreciated, but everyone wished me a happy birthday, which was nice. I woke up feeling some fatigue in my legs (which is where it always starts), but that gradually went away during the day. I had a lovely day at the office, came straight home, and did little to nothing the rest of the night–no reading, no writing (I did work on a newsletter entry, tho), no anything–other than relax, catch up on the news, and watched some television when Paul was done with working before I went to bed. I don’t feel fatigued in any way this morning, which is nice, other than some tiredness in my legs–which I am thinking will clear up as the day progresses, the same as yesterday. I slept really well last night and feel mentally alert this morning, which is a good thing. I don’t have any errands to run tonight, either–so I get to come straight home after work, which is great; and for tomorrow, we don’t have to be at the office until nine-thirty…so I can sleep a little later tomorrow morning.

I also got a ton of birthday wishes on social media. I tried to like every post, but am not sure what degree of success I had with that. It was kind of nice. Nobody has to, after all, so getting so many is really nice. If I didn’t like your post, it was an oversight and my apologies. (I am never sure what the etiquette is with these sorts of things, either….I never know what the proper etiquette is in any situation.)

I think my favorite thing I saw yesterday while getting caught up on the news after work was watching conservatives melting down over Gavin Newsom’s tweets mocking their pathetic god-emperor2. Listening to them describing the mockery as childish, immature, and unbecoming for a GOVERNOR…while not realizing that everything they were saying applied tenfold to their POS fascist sun-downing grandpa poopy-pants lord and master. (The fact said orange-faced child rapist shit-gibbon has discovered and turned off the caps-lock and exclamation point key on his phone tells me its working on the shitgibbon. We never should have stopped calling them weird last summer.) But intellect has never been MAGA’s strong suit, has it?

And where are the Epstein files?

I also spent some time revisiting the early days of my blog, as I am writing about Katrina again. It is kind of amazing that I’ve been maintaining a blog for over twenty years. This December it will be twenty-one years. I sure didn’t think I’d be doing this for that long when I started all those years ago; I assumed I’d eventually bore of it and start missing days (also important to note that in the early days I didn’t write an entry every day, either) then weeks, and one morning I’d realize I’d not done one in years. I’m also researching hurricanes as I am writing a fictional one in the will-it-ever-be-finished Scotty book. The nice thing about writing is you can always do research when you’re not actually up for putting words on the page. Of course, it’s also incredibly easy to think “I’ll just do some research instead of writing” which happens far too frequently.

I am also sidetracked easily by things I find interesting. Oh, there’s a new three-hour documentary about the Thirty Years’ War on Youtube? Let me watch this even though I’ll probably never write about that war or that time period…and then I have to try to figure out a way to write a short story or something so I didn’t waste the time. I did watch some videos about the 1915 New Orleans hurricane, which has always interested me–still trying to figure out a way to write about Julia Brown, the “voodoo queen” of Frenier, a community completely destroyed by the storm. Frenier also interests me because it was only accessible by either train or boat; talk about a cut off, insular community! The storm also destroyed the Filipino community of St. Malo on Lake Borgne, which I also want to write about at some point. (I should read Isaac’s Storm by Erik Larson–which is about the 1900 storm that destroyed Galveston; I’ve always thought Galveston and its great storm would be a good foundation for a romantic suspense novel set in the present, a la Phyllis A. Whitney.

I also picked up some new-to-me books on Tuesday: Trespassers at the Golden Gate by Gary Krist; First Lie Wins by Ashley Elston (whom I met at the TWFest this past year and loved her); Havoc by Christopher Bollen; Mississippi Blue 42 by Eli Cranor; and Bitter Blood by Jerry Bledsoe (true crime). Yes, I know, I need to get rid of books instead of adding news ones to the TBR pile (I think I am now three books behind on Eli Cranor, and so many books behind that Christopher Bollen has published!). I also got my contributor copy of Crime Ink: Iconic, which is gorgeous and I will talk about some more at another time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning, undoubtedly whining about having to go into the office.

  1. I don’t really like making a big deal out of my birthday–cakes, balloons, cards, all that stuff associated with “my big day”–and haven’t for at least thirty years, if not longer. ↩︎
  2. I wish someone would redo the paperback cover of God Emperor of Dune changing it from ‘Dune’ to ‘MAGA’ and imposing his hideous face on the sandworm. ↩︎

Shoo Be Doo

Thursday morning, and I am awake with my mind alert for a change–but my body is still fatigued. Hopefully getting to sleep a little later tomorrow will make a difference in the degree of fatigue I’ve been experiencing this week. This is actually the worst it’s been after an infusion, so hallelujah that this was the last one! I’ve not been able to get much of anything done around here after work–I fell asleep just after eight again in my chair, only to go up to bed around nine thirty. I did sleep well, but probably needed to stay in bed a few more hours, methinks.

We were also busy in the clinic yesterday, which didn’t help the fatigue, but I made it through the day unscathed. I did get a lot done there, too. I think we’re busy again today, but the morning is pretty slow and easy, so I can get caught up on my paperwork. I think tonight after work I’ll come straight home. I skipped the grocery store last night, but picked up the mail and my prescriptions, so that was a plus. I’ll probably have some groceries delivered over the weekend, as I am out of some things. I also don’t think I am imagining how much prices have gone up lately. Wasn’t that yet another broken campaign promise? I mean, I thought inflation was all Biden’s fault, wasn’t it? Here’s hoping we’ll have a robust mid-term election next year…although I suspect we’re never going to have another one. I would be delighted to be proven wrong, for the record, but nothing the Fascists do anymore surprises me. What surprises me is when they do something decent without an ulterior motive…and I am still waiting to be surprised.

Despite the mental fatigue I was experiencing when I got home last night, I did manage to park myself in my chair and catch on the news. Christ on the cross, what the fuck is wrong with this country (rhetorical)? I heartily enjoyed reports on Gavin Newsom’s tweets yesterday, and the utter insanity of Laura Loomer’s deposition in her defamation suit against Bill Maher. Future generations will (hopefully) look back at this time and ask, in all seriousness, what the fuck was wrong with everyone? Which leads me around to an essay I am writing about Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, and how that history has always been distorted to blacken Anne’s reputation as well as who she was; imagine if the only reports for future historians about you were your absolute worst enemies…even those who admired her were too afraid to say anything positive about her after her fall. I also saw somewhere on-line recently a comparison between Henry VIII and our own unspeakably vile president.

This is why studying history is, in my opinion, so vitally important–but it’s equally important to keep an open mind as well. Context also matters.

I probably should have been a historian. The problem, though, was all of it interests me; I don’t know that I would have been able to decide on a particular period to focus on. The smart thing for me to have done would have been to double major in history and creative writing, with a minor in either French or German. Although I probably would have focused on the sixteenth century, which has always fascinated me…French would have been the wiser course because it was the diplomatic language of that period, so a lot of the source material would have been in French.

Is it just me, or has there been a lot of flooding all over the country this year? I haven’t paid as much attention to it all as perhaps I should have, but at least I’ve made note of it. The Guadalupe River floods in Texas were kind of hard to escape, as everyone seemed to be covering that story. But it seems like every day, or at least every other day, whenever I log into my browser I see pictures of devastating flooding somewhere in the US. Flooding is so awful and it’s never fun to lose your car and/or your home and most of your belongings.

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

The Temple of Abu Simbel, statues of Ramses II

My Best Friend’s Girlfriend

I’ve always thought today’s title, an old classic by the Cars, would make for a great y/a title. What if a gay teenager was in love with his straight best friend (it happens), only to have the best friend get a girlfriend the gay kid suspects is evil, as in occult evil? No one believes him because they think it’s jealousy…this story always springs to mind whenever I hear the song.

And that first album by the Cars is still a jam, almost forty years (!!!!) after release.

Saturday morning here in the Lost Apartment, and Sparky let me stay in bed later than usual, which was lovely. I am slurping down my first cup of coffee and have already had my coffee cake, probably moving on to cereal in a moment. I do feel good and rested this morning. I took it easy after work yesterday, simply sitting in my easy chair and morphing into a cat bed for a worn out purring kitty. I finished watching Hurricane Katrina: Race Against Time, which I really appreciated. I did get a little teary when listening to the experiences of the people who couldn’t leave and the clusterfuck of the response to the catastrophic levee failure (which failure was lain entirely at the door of the US Army Corps of Engineers, where it belonged), and the response was entirely a systemic failure. It also went after the media reporting, which was wrong and caused problems for the efforts to rescue people and get them out. I did remember how angry the reporting by the legacy media made me (fuck Fox News and their racism now, then, and forever) because I had a flash of anger again at the incompetence. I’m glad I watched, but I will never stop mourning the New Orleans that was before, or the people we lost. I also decided to go ahead and write a twenty years later essay for the newsletter. Last night as I watched, I was trying to remember what I actually did write about Hurricane Katrina and the aftermath (besides the blog): my novel Murder in the Rue Chartres; my essay “I Haven’t Stopped Dancing Yet” and a shorter, edited down version called “I’m Still Dancing”; and the short stories “Annunciation Shotgun” and “Survivor’s Guilt.” I think part of the reason I wrote so little about Katrina and the rebuilding was because I didn’t want to be defined as a writer by the storm.

But I think there is another essay about Katrina inside of me that I need to write. I may start writing it this weekend, but we shall see.

I do have to go pick up some prescriptions and some groceries while I am out, and I am going to potentially order some more to be delivered this afternoon. I also made good progress on chores yesterday; I did all the bed clothes, and a load of dishes that needs to be put away, and I also cleaned off my kitchen counters. I also picked some things up around here, too. I want to write and read today, too–once I finish this I will go to my chair and read for a bit before I go run those errands and get them out of the way so I don’t have to leave the house tomorrow. Monday is my last infusion and I took the day off so I can come home and rest and read some more. Huzzah? Huzzah! I think we’re probably going to move on to watching Wednesday’s second season tonight, too.

I do feel good this morning–the cereal was an excellent choice, but now I need toast–and so I am hopeful I’ll be able to get some things done today. So, I probably should put some bread in the toaster and bring this effort to a close for the day by heading into the spice mines for the rest of the morning. Have a lovely and terrific Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back either later today or again tomorrow morning.

Adorable out gay Olympic gold medalist in diving Tom Daley of the UK

Just What I Needed

Monday and back to the office with me today. Yesterday was nice and relaxing; I worked on writing for a while, didn’t do as many chores as I should have, and watched a couple of shows. I didn’t want to get out of bed again this morning–no surprise there–and am a little bummed to not have another day off as of yet. But I’ll survive, as I always do, which is no more than I should expect, one supposes. It’s hard to believe that it’s August and my birthday is looming, as is football season and Bouchercon is also coming to New Orleans the first week of next month. I’ve got a lot to get done in the month of August, and I really need to buckle down and apply my nose to said grindstone. It’s just tough when you have to battle fatigue and exhaustion all the time.

We watched the Netflix documentary series Amy Bradley Is Missing, which was interesting and terribly sad at the same time. I cannot imagine the pain of having a family member disappear without a trace the way Amy Bradley did off that cruise ship. As a disappearance of a family member is the crucial plot element of a book I am researching to write at some point in the future (The Summer of Lost Boys), watching this kind of counted as research for that, as it gave me insight as to how a working class family would react to such an occurrence and how the family would be permanently damaged….which also got me thinking about aftermaths to crime and horror stories. How do you go on with your life after fighting supernatural threats? Or after being a murder suspect? Or having someone close to you commit a serious and most heinous crime?

After dinner, we started watching a new Mexican erotic thriller series on Netflix, whose title translates to Unspeakable Sins. Like all Spanish-language erotic thriller series, there’s plenty of sex and nudity; we only watched three episodes (there’s two seasons of nine episodes each) but even trying to summarize the plot thus far–but the primary plot concerns Helena, a wealthy woman in a very controlling marriage to an older man, who starts having an affair with a very hot young escort, whom she convinces to flirt with her bisexual husband so they can get video of the two of them together and she can use the video as leverage to divorce him. Ivan pretends to be a journalist doing a story on Claudio, Claudio is attracted to him, but things go south–they fight and Ivan’s story is he ran away. But there’s blood all over the house and Claudio is now missing…can Ivan trust Helena or is she playing him for a fool, setting him up to take the fall for his murder?

That’s the primary story, but there are subplots as well that are just as intense.

Ivan is played by gorgeous Andres Baida. I mean…

Sexy Andres Baida
He was also in Control Z and Who Killed Amy?

Gorgeous, just gorgeous.

I also spent some time processing seeing friends from high school that I hadn’t seen in almost fifty years. (The fact that it’s been almost fifty years since I graduated from high school also needs processing, but that will have to wait until I am done with this initial processing.) Every time I’ve had a conversation with someone from high school in the last thirty years–it’s not often and it’s not many–how they remember me, and high school, are vastly different from how I remember things, but they also never knew how miserable and unhappy I was. I always put on a good face; I always try to make the best out of every situation I find myself dealing with as they come up, especially when it’s not something you can change or alter in any meaningful way. As I’ve stated before, I’ve always thought I was odd-looking and never really had a fit body until I was in my thirties. But…seeing pictures from back then…I was wrong about how I looked (I’ve always been wrong about that, frankly) and my impact on other people. Both women remember me as having a really muscular fit body and being handsome and very kind and considerate and thoughtful–and funny; I’ve always been funny.

And I did work on writing yesterday. I edited another piece and wrote out what changes need to be made to it to make it stronger. I also did some laundry and a load of dishes, but didn’t pick up too much of the mess in the apartment. I do enjoy spending down time with Paul and Sparky, and really wish we were both retired and just hanging out around the apartment all day. Paul likes to be busy, though, so I do think he will take some adjusting if and when he finally does retire. I won’t be retiring for another few years yet; not going at 65, much as I would like to, so I have to get my shit together leading up to when I finally do.

After work today, I have to make groceries on the way home, and I’m hoping to do some writing tonight before we jump back into Unspeakable Sins.

So on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be checking in with you again in the morning.

Hysteria

Work at Home Friday, with tasks that need doing and an apartment to clean and a Costco run later on this afternoon. After I am finished with work stuff I am free until Monday morning to do as I please, and how I please is to get things delivered so I don’t have to leave the house all weekend! I also want to clean the apartment more, as well as dive into my reading and do some writing as well. I know I promised a short story to an anthology, which is cool and yet another short story sale for the year, and of course, all the books I am currently working (horribly slowly, for the record) on and trying to finish. I had planned to do more this year, but I also didn’t take “getting horribly sick and going into the hospital for six days and then trying to get my strength back” into consideration for planning this year’s writing schedule. I had hoped to have the Scotty finished and turned in, as well as the other one I am in process with. I do have some things to get done before I finally stop letting the new Scotty steep in the files, and get back to work on it.

Man plans, and God laughs, right?

I was exhausted when I got home last night, and fell asleep in my chair around seven! Paul worked late at the office finishing a grant, and I had no clue how worn out I was. I sat down in my chair, figuring I’d rest a but would get up and do some chores after getting caught up on the news. That didn’t happen, needless to say. Being tired hit me when I got home from work, alas–I was fading at work in the late afternoon–and I thought a little rest won’t hurt me as I got sucked into the news of the day about the slow, steady collapse of the country. I have a dishwasher to empty and reload, lots of laundry to do, a staff meeting at nine this morning, and data to enter. We’re going to Costco later in the afternoon when I’ve finished work, and I need to order the groceries to be delivered this evening. I also would like to do some writing and reading tonight, too. We shall see how it goes, won’t we?

I still feel a bit groggy but this second cup of coffee is quite delicious, and I need to make something to eat in a moment because I certainly don’t want to be eating on camera during the meeting.

I also saw a submissions call for an anthology that feels like its right up my alley and I could easily (ha!) come up with something to submit, and I’m actually kind of excited about exploring that idea? Despite falling off the writing horse yesterday due to exhaustion and fatigue, I am still feeling like a writer again, which is a huge relief. Whenever I go into a fallow phase, for whatever reason, I always worry that I’ve exhausted my creativity and my ability to write and it won’t resurface again. I also worry about that I’ll burn out–but if my hyper-productive phases in the 2010’s didn’t do it, I can’t imagine simply being old and weary has that much power. I also, seriously, don’t feel old. I know I talk about it all the time, primarily because it catches me off-guard sometimes that I am in my mid-sixties. I have noticed that my energy reserves are more limited, but Christ–I had two surgeries three years ago and a serious illness earlier this year–and I never seem to have the time to get rested and healthy and fully recovered. I doubt that I’ll ever do four or five books per year ever again–even if I could, I don’t think I’d want to–but maybe two per year could work for me. We’ll have to see.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again probably tomorrow morning as I have a day jam-packed with stuff I need to get done.

Cody Rhodes is a fine specimen