Category: social media

Treat Her Right

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, thank the Lord. It has been a week. Yesterday was yet another one of those days, and by the time I ran my errands and got home, it was almost six thirty and I was exhausted, too exhausted to do more than put the groceries away and do a little writing before my brain went fuzzy and had to stop doing anything. We watched this week’s Prime Target, and shortly after that was over I was way too tired to do anything else other than tumble into bed; so tired that I in fact forgot to set my alarm. I got up when I always do, and without the ability to hit snooze just went ahead and got up. So, again, today is an out-of-sorts day because I am off my usual routine. It should be relatively simple today–an easy sort of catch-up between clients day–because almost all of yesterday’s fires (save one) burned themselves out before I fled the office at the end of the day and never looked back.

But hope springs ever eternal in my heart, mind and soul, and here’s me hoping that today will be the easy Thursday to glide elegantly into my remote work day and the weekend. I’ve still not made the to-do list I keep threatening to make, and I do think if I ever am able to do that (maybe over lunch today?) I might be able to get back on track. My memory is shit and mostly worthless anymore; I forget far more than I remember. Truth be told, I started doing that in my thirties, and it did help me a lot. It always did. So why do I not make them anymore? Self-sabotage1? Maybe.

Probably.

Le sigh.

And last night we had the first of probably many air collisions that killed everyone on board both craft. Thank GOD we have a professional bigot and former reality show ‘star’ in charge over the Department of Transportation than that DEI hire, Pete Buttigieg, right? (we really need a sarcasm font.) Nothing like cutting back on essential services for the general population, right? Who needs air traffic controllers? That’s some WOKE bullshit right there! By the way, racist assholes–how much are eggs today? Why is it okay for them to be expensive under one president when the previous one was blamed for the price? I am so fucking sick of hypocrisy…I didn’t vote for this shit show, and don’t think I am ever going to forgive anyone who voted for this, let alone letting anyone forget it. If I was going to have a tombstone, I’d want it to read I VOTED AGAINST IT ALL!

Sigh. It is so easy to allow the depression and negativity to take over and wallow in it, isn’t it? But that doesn’t get the work done, and it doesn’t make me feel any better about anything. The constant barrage of insanity and stupidity, reported breathlessly by the legacy media like it’s completely normal, pundits and influencers and everyone everywhere all at once with their (usually toxic) thoughts and opinions…it’s a lot and it’s also exhausting. That’s always their game plan–throw so much shit that you get worn out trying to avoid it and get overwhelmed and give in out of sheer exhaustion and hopelessness. Rage and anger are also exhausting, so getting on the outrage carousel makes it worse. I know, I know; I don’t just block anymore I will sometimes say shit, which I shouldn’t because why? Scoring points off a moron isn’t an accomplishment–and not one to be proud of if it is. I don’t like when some ignorant stranger pops off on social media and rather than scrolling past or blocking, I respond instead of blocking. Now that the trolls from Twitter are making their way over to the newer sites and bringing their shittiness with them, I’ve allowed myself to snap at their smug stupidity and cruelty. I don’t care about being shitty to them–they deserve far worse than what I might say to them on social media–but I don’t like having my mind go so negative. I guess that’s what happens after a lifetime of people trying to bully you on the reg. I also don’t see sinking to their level as particularly negative–and trust me, I do hold back because I can go so low I would come out on the other side of the planet–but I don’t like even giving them a moment of my energy, energy that could be used for positivity.

And on that pensive note, I am going to head into the spice mines and avoid social media for the rest of the day to preserve my peace. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll most likely not be back before tomorrow!

  1. The marvelous Benjamin Dreyer was talking on social media the other day about the etymology of the words sabotage and saboteur–and now I will always say them with a French accent–sab-o-TAHJ! ↩︎

The Race Is On

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day blog, with the country ablaze and the current regime throwing on more lighter fluid every few hours, and who knows what fresh horrors the new day will bring? Yesterday was an exhausting slog. We were busy all day in the clinic, we were using a new testing protocol for the first time, and there were all kinds of glitches in the computer matrix, it seemed. I also had ZOOM calls last night when I got home, one right after another, and when that was all over and done with I was worn to a frazzle. Once all was said and done, I collapsed into my easy chair (Paul was at a board meeting, I think; he was at his office late) and tried to get caught up on the news without becoming enraged. He got home shortly before I went to bed, and tonight I am going to have to make some groceries on the way home before I get back to work on my writing. I feel neither groggy nor completely awake yet this morning, so who knows how the day is going to play out? It’s always funny to me to see how I felt the previous morning vs. how the rest of the day went. I didn’t want to get up this morning–the bed was so comfy and warm–so I’m not sure how this day will go. We aren’t going to be as busy–but there are different challenges to today’s workday. We’ll see how it all goes, I guess.

I really do need to get my shit together. I’ve kind of been drifting for too long. And deadlines are looming. One thing that never changes–you always have to work no matter what the fuck is going on in the world.

Today I need to pay the bills, make a new to-do list (and follow it), and answer my way overdue emails and put on my big boy pants to face this cruel, crazy world of rising fascism. One of my clients told me yesterday that he thinks everything just needs to burn to the ground and then rebuild something better from the ashes…but even that seems idealistic to me; we can’t be certain what the lesson learned would be, can we? But our systems and institutions have been so stripped down, corrupted, and weakened that I don’t see how any of them can be fixed, especially when no one can agree on how things need to be fixed. The rot in our government, and the failure of our elected officials, is too engrained and simply runs too deep to be cut out, repaired, and papered over. Changing health insurance to a single-payer system would result in the loss of thousands of jobs (and as much as I loathe health insurance employees, I have to recognize how that would affect the economy), and what do you do with those people? And what about the shareholders’ money they’ve invested? Again, I personally don’t give two shits–any shareholder in health insurance corporations has just as much blood (if not more) on their hands as the employees do–but that is something that would have to be taken into consideration. You see what I mean? Our country is a Gordian knot of problems, and I am not sure that cutting through it would be as effective as setting it on fire.

And even I–with my deep cynicism about the awfulness of humans as a collective group my entire adult gay life (all it takes to lose all hope and faith in humanity is working for a few years at an airport, trust me)–have been caught off guard by some masks coming off. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it still does. The crime fiction community is filled with these horrific people. As the O’Jays sang in the early 1970s, “they smile in your face, all the time they want to take your place, the backstabbers…” There was another one of those trolls with a humiliation fetish on one of the platforms yesterday telling people not to be political in your books or publicly because “you don’t want to lose half your audience.” Oh, do you mean the trolls who post one-star reviews of every queer book on every review website possible? Bitch, homophobic misogynist racists aren’t reading queer mysteries set in New Orleans and written by a gay man. She was dragged for the filth she was, and I have to say I responded to her several times–ignoring my own advice to simply block and move on–and didn’t want to block her. She blocked me, and I have to say I do kind of revel in making MAGA trash block me–which is intoxicating and addictive and what made Twitter so vile. So, I am going to need to limit my time on social media even more, and I need to stick to my guns and just blockity block block. The mission is to protect my mental health and walk away from abusive conduct; this is counter to my entire methodology after coming out–in which I’m not taking abuse from anyone ever again became my mantra…but social media isn’t the same. In most cases I don’t know these people and I wouldn’t know them if I passed them on the street; so in ignoring and blocking I am making space for myself and not giving strangers my emotional labor anymore. I am not a teacher, and it’s not my job to educate you as to why bigotry and prejudice isn’t the way to go; I can’t make anyone develop empathy for others. I am just glad I never preserved my brain in amber as it was anytime in my life.

At least I can admit I’m wrong, and look at things from a new perspective once I’ve opened myself up to it. I’ve never claimed to be perfect.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely pay-the-bills day, Constant Reader, and I probably won’t return until tomorrow.

Keep Searchin’ (We’ll Follow the Sun)

It feels weird to be up this early this morning, with it dark outside and Sparky whining for breakfast. But it’s a return to normality, after a planned three day holiday weekend turned into a bizarre week of working at home for about eight hours total. I feel very disoriented, too. I’ve lost track of days and dates and so forth, and am running very short on time for a lot of things I could have either gotten done or made more progress on than I did over the last week. Ah, well, c’est la vie. It’s warm this morning–in the sixties!–and it looks like our weather is returning to normal, for now. Good, because I don’t want to deal with any more snow this year. Last week was fun and novel; it would get old and tired very quickly. I didn’t have trouble getting up this morning, either. My shoulder still feels a bit weird this morning, so I think I may let it have another day of rest. I also think I might need to rest more between sets; I still try to go as quickly as I can (a mindset I need to break, everything takes time, alas, but at least I am identifying old behaviors that need breaking) but need to stop doing that because it’s overtaxing the arm a bit at the shoulder joint, which isn’t much fun. Still adapting to the aftermath of that injury, I guess, which is annoying as fuck. But it’s also another reminder than I’m older and my body doesn’t react to exercise the way it used to, so everything must go slowly.

I am finally being forced to learn patience, and it is very difficult for an old dog to learn new tricks.

And I am sure that being at work today is going to be more than a little challenging.

But I don’t feel tired the way I usually do, and I feel like I’m going to be able to get quite a bit done today, once I get to the office and remember where we are on everything. Yay. This unexpected week away from the office really was kind of a reset in a way; I feel more rested and ready to deal with everything that I personally need to get back to work on. I have gotten so behind, and even this weekend I was still in a bit of snow stupor and didn’t get as much done as I would have liked this weekend, as usual. But…maybe now I can get my act together? Stranger things have happened. I also started reading She Who Was No More, and I have to say, I fucking love this French style of writing that was so heavily influenced by film noir and writers like James M. Cain. It may even work for another book idea I have, which is even more exciting–but I really do need to finish this Scotty before I even should be thinking in terms of future work.

Heavy heaving sigh. I’ll probably finish this later. Clearly, I’ve not taken my pills yet today because I am already feeling anxious, and the coffee isn’t helping. Yes, I will finish when I get home from work tonight.

Well, here we are on Tuesday morning, and I think I was a little overly optimistic about how I felt yesterday morning. It wasn’t like I was fatigued or anything, but I was very unfocused all day, and easily distracted–so my ADHD was kicking into gear yesterday. I didn’t remember to take my medications until well into the day, and I think that had a lot to do with it. I just could not finish a task once I’d started it without being interrupted, and then after the interruption I’d forget what I was originally doing in the first place. It was…challenging, to say the least, and I was very tired when I got home. We ended up starting Murder in a Small Town, which had some moments, but I wasn’t too terribly interested in continuing with it again…I was under the impression it was one of those series where the case took up the entire season, but no–it’s murder of the week, and again–the crime rate in the town is about to go up exponentially. And while the season-long stories sometimes feel a bit padded, they’re more involving. Producers/writers: watch Harlan Coben’s series adapted from his books; these stand alone episodic crime stories are so great. Now send me a thousand dollars for the excellent advice on how to improve your shows.

Since the swearing-in of President Greg Stillson last week, the dismantling of our country for spare parts to sell off has been incredibly overwhelming, and I don’t blame people for shutting down and not knowing what to do. It’s also been shocking to see how many theoretically decent people have decided to throw away said decency (which was clearly always a facade; anyone who could ally themselves with this criminal administration, for whatever reason, is a quisling and a collaborationist at best, and pure evil at worst) and suck up to power. It’s always disappointing when people you may have been a fan of turn out to be enormous disappointments; which is one of the many reasons I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone…because no matter what, they will always disappoint you. I was never a particular fan of Jewel, but I didn’t hate her or have much of an opinion about her. She never crossed my mind. But she chose to dance before the corrupt court, showing everyone in the country who she was, what she stood for, and what her values and beliefs are. I guess she had a big queer fanbase and didn’t like the backlash she was getting for cosplaying Leni Reifenstahl and decided to release a video apologizing to the “people she hurt, especially the LGBTQ+ community”–you know, the non-apology garbage people when a really bad decision blows up in their face, because they are so egotistical they think they can explain why they committed the offense in the first place, and pat them on the back for their noble sacrifice.

I mean, seriously. I can’t with people like that, you know?

So when a friend on a social media account reposted the Jewel “not apology” bullshit, I commented. I only did so because she specifically mentioned MY community in with her bullshit faux-ally shit, and I am sorry, I will not let this pass without comment. I replied with well, this gay man wants nothing to do with either her or her apology or her fake-ass straight white woman tears. You showed us who you are and we believe you. Live with it.

I did this in, of all place, the parking lot of the grocery store–I’d gotten some mention-alerts, so I was looking through them and then went back to the home page, where I saw the Jewel post. While I was in the checkout line, waiting my turn, I pulled out my phone and did what I always do–check my email, look at the mentions, scroll if there’s nothing else to do. I had an alert that I had been tagged or replied to on the social media platform, but when I tried to see the response to my Jewel comment, there was nothing available to see. That’s odd, I thought, and put my phone back away because it was my turn.

When I got home and put the groceries away was when I saw that someone had screen-capped it and shared it with me….because the woman had posted it, turned off replies, and hid it from me.

What the actual hell?

I didn’t think trolling could possibly get more pathetic and sad than it already was; but now I know there’s an even lower level for them to take an escalator down to. I mean, all trolling is performative, but imagine being so performative and then hiding it all from the person you’re going after? What a fucking coward, seriously.

I also spent about twenty-four hours wondering why she called me a “gay back man,” because I am really oblivious and very literal. I honestly thought it was some kind of “bottom-shaming” you-take-it-up-the-ass douche-bagger homophobic way, and didn’t put it together until the next day when I was telling Paul about it. (In my defense, he did also say “what the hell is a gay back man?” at first.) He figured it out: I said straight white woman, so the troll said gay black man but made a typo, and since “back” is a word, autocorrect didn’t alert her.

I mean, I’m not offended when someone thinks I’m Black. I really don’t; but this also sent my mind wandering down another path. I mean, I want to be prepared the next time it happens. It did make me start wondering–I’ve always wondered if the way people have treated me over the years has been homophobic when they aren’t nice or friendly or bare-bones professional. I’ve long accepted that my gayness can be seen from space. But was there something else at play, too?

I really am tired of living in interesting times.

Do You Believe in Magic

Saturday morning and here we are in the Lost Apartment as New Orleans slowly shakes off it’s blizzard break and returns to what passes as normalcy around here. As I look outside this morning after sleeping really late this morning (I was tired, okay?), the snow is almost completely gone. Yesterday after work I did go to the gym, and we did go to Costco, so I was pretty worn out when that was all completed and didn’t get anything else much done once we got home. We got one of those pre-made Costco pizzas (they really are quite good) which made for an easy dinner, which we ate while watching LSU Gymnastics; they were off last night, alas–but were also missing some of their best athletes. We’d started watching Prime Target on Apple Plus (queer main character? Oh hell to the yes, thank you very much), which we are also enjoying, but…I don’t think we watched anything other than news clips after the meet ended and before we went to bed? I also did my usual Friday chores around here, too–yay, me. Today I need to write and I need to run some errands. I wanted to go make groceries today, but am thinking I may need to wait for a few more days, after the stores are able to take deliveries and restock their shelves; even Costco looked a little picked over yesterday–we still spent over four hundred, and I forgot to look at the price of eggs–and there wasn’t too much traffic, despite the highways and interstate still being closed. I am pretty sure the city is back to what passes for normal around here today. Its cold outside, but sunny and the sky is blue, so whatever bits of snow that are left from the blizzard (it still feels weird saying that, you know?) will most likely melt off today.

It’s been quite a year already, and it’s not even fucking February yet. 2024 seems like it was last century already. This weird past week, though, as I said the other day, was a much needed respite, a forced period of rest for a city still reeling from starting the year with a terrorist attack, with both the Super Bowl and Carnival still on the horizon. I feel like I also kind of needed it, myself–I feel a lot more rested than I did last weekend, of course, and I do think returning to the office on Monday is a nice return to my usual routine. I need to work on the book this weekend as well as some other writing projects that need doing, and of course there are always chores to be done. I did the bed linens and two loads of laundry yesterday, got the sink all cleared out, and finally was able to do some more cleaning around here, too. Tomorrow I’ll walk back over to the gym for another workout–my shoulder and arm are tight and sore a lot more these days, so I am taking it easy for another week before advancing the workout to the next step. I am getting some exercise in, I am burning calories, and so my physical goals should be much easier to achieve this year than in years past. I am feeling more centered than I have in years.

It was also delightful this morning to see that Madison Keys won the Australian Open; good on you, girl! The US even had a man in the semi-finals, too. I’ve not been as big a tennis fan lately as I used to be; the Williams sisters and Rafa retiring left a big gap, and I don’t know many of the players as well as I used to. I guess I’m kind of a homer when it comes to international sport…but it just seems like there’s not been any newer players coming along with the kind of charismatic star power the Williams sisters (and Rafa) had. I really don’t follow figure skating as much as I used to, either; Paul and I primarily focus on US ice dance, of all things; who knew that would gradually become our strongest discipline? We’d even forgotten that US Nationals were this weekend (congratulations to Amber Glenn for winning again), but now that we do know, we can actually watch this weekend (thank God for streaming, right?).

The world continues to burn to the ground all around us, and what else is there left to say? The surrender of everyone to MAGA, from corporations to celebrities to the press, the capitulation in advance, went exactly the way it did in Germany in the 1930s. That’s yet another reason why I think being a writer in these trying times means being an activist. My books, my stories, about queer life through a crime or horror lens, kind of are important in that regard, and as I get older and I become more and more progressive (yes, I am going the opposite direction of the trope that everyone becomes more conservative as they age; hey, don’t blame my generation for the fucking Boomers who sold out everything they believed in after college) I find myself dancing around things in my work. And yes, I do want MAGA voters to suffer, and am saving all my empathy and sympathy for the victims of MAGA voters. I have no sympathy for mediocrities who need the state to made them feel better about their snowflake loser selves, and laughed excitedly about how they were fucking us over. I’m supposed to not want them to suffer the consequences of their actions? People who enjoy the suffering of others and voted for inhumanity? You can miss me with that kind of moral superiority, and if that’s you, just because you think you’re morally superior doesn’t mean you actually are.

And your education certainly doesn’t make you more intelligent and more moral than anyone else. All that means is you knew how to perform for professors by giving them what they wanted, kissing their ass, and not questioning them–which I did all the time, earning their enmity, and the little Napoleons in college English departments aren’t very interested in opinions other than their own correct ones, and punished me accordingly. (I have more publications than all of my professors, across all disciplines.) I don’t like to talk myself up (sing out, Louise!) because it seems arrogant and egocentric, and I don’t like those parts of my personality very much, but yes, I do have more publications than all of my instructors I’ve had throughout the course of my life, so…forgive me for interpreting essays, stories and books differently than a boring Lit professor’s1 (or writing teacher’s) dogmatic devotion to closing their eyes to any new interpretation. I’ve also always felt that you don’t learn by memorizing things; you learn by examining them, thinking about them, and evaluating. Theory is great, but implementation is far far better and way more important.

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

  1. As long as I live, I will never forgot my Shakespeare professor, talking about the many versions of Hamlet Shakespeare wrote, and how in earlier drafts Queen Gertrude was complicit in the murder of her husband and how that changed. The professor insisted that Shakespeare did this deliberately; which made Hamlet’s dilemma even worse–could he trust his mother? I raised my hand, and pointed out that at the time Hamlet was put on, James I was king of England, and his mother was believed to have been a party to his father’s murder, and married his murderer and the parallel was too close for comfort. He dismissed this with a condescending wave of his hand and said, “Shakespeare was an artist and wouldn’t worry about such mundane things” to which I replied, “several months in the Tower of London and running the risk of being hung for insulting the King isn’t a mundane thing.” That was the last day I went to class, only showing up for tests, and my paper was “Murderous Mothers: The Parallels Between Queen Gertrude and Mary Queen of Scots”, for which I did a lot of historical research. The paper got an A, and I also got one in the class, and I never really trusted professors again after that. ↩︎

Hold What You’ve Got

And today is yet another remote day. It would be anyway, but the office is only open for the access program and the pharmacy, and I am not needed for either so I will work remotely again today. However, after I am finished with work-at-home duties today, I am going to venture out and see what is open and what is not–or how bad the roads are. I know people are out there driving, but they are also New Orleans drivers, and I don’t know if I want to be on slippery, icy roads with people who can’t drive in rain. I am getting a little tired of being inside–I’ve literally not been outside of the house other than to take out trash since last Saturday, and the morning of the blizzard to take some pictures of the street–and while this blizzard has been such a lovely distraction, such an unexpected joy, and period of rest that we kind of needed. It was Christmas then the New Year’s attack happened and it was the Sugar Bowl and Twelfth Night and Super Bowl preparation–and we got a chance to stop, slow down and rest and find some joy. Even I–who generally hates the cold and snow and will avoid it at all costs–got caught up in the wonder of it all. It was wild and wacky and fun and so insane–and so perfect to have happen when I am writing about the insane world Scotty lives in, too. (Yes, I also worked on the book last night, and it went well, even if I am a little rusty. More on that later.) It was also lovely being all snug and comfy and cozy and warm inside, while it was cold and snowing outside. The novelty of being snowed in at home in New Orleans for three days is so surreal and nonsensical to me, that it still hasn’t completely sunk in as a quite real thing that happened. I definitely am going to write about it; people all over social media here are trying to come up with a name for the event and there are several good ones, but the one I am pinching for my book title will be The Big Freezy. I don’t know anything other than it will be funny, it will be a crime/caper novel, and it will be set during the blizzard of 2025. God only knows when I’ll get to it, but that’s a promise, Constant Reader.

That’s the lovely thing about New Orleans; we always have these communal experiences together. Everyone here will remember the blizzard and what they did, and everyone will have stories to swap for decades here. Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest, the Saints, potholes, the stoplights just flashing during rush hour, the Crescent City Connection traffic backed up for miles–these are all things we’ve experienced and can relate to when someone else brings it up; part of the threads that connect us all as a community. And New Orleans will always embrace the joy.

That’s the roadmap we have for the next four years, so as long as the news out of Washington remains grim and authoritarian, as what few government norms we have left are erased and decimated all in the service of a petulant toddler’s whims and grievances, we have to find our own joy to cling to. I found joy in my home city and an unexpected once-in-a-lifetime blizzard (although who knows? It could be an annual event from now on, too) and in getting my cover for my new book and in spending this unexpected down time just resting and relaxing and not letting things get to me. We all have to do this, and we also need to talk about our joy, because that is another way to fight evil and hate–with our joy. Maybe this reign of terror is easier on me than it is for straight people, because I always thought the majority of straight white people were horrible monsters, so most of this isn’t surprising to me. I can see why this was a surprise to so many people, because they never pay much attention to anything until it affects them directly, no matter how many marginalized people they know. I am almost sorry for them, but can’t be completely, since their obliviousness and tunnel vision helped us get to where we are now–and don’t get me started on white women, the enemy of all that is decent and kind. (Don’t @ me with your “not all white women” bullshit. The majority of you voted for him. Clean up your own house and don’t come for me about actual fucking facts. And I will remind you yet again that New Orleans always delivers over eighty percent of its vote for the Democrat presidential candidate. I can get on my fucking high horse about this shit, and I will rub your fucking face in it if you bring that denial shit here. You didn’t vote for him, this doesn’t apply to you, snowflake.)

See how easy it is for a mood to turn foul when you go down the white supremacy road? It doesn’t take me long, ever.

But yes, joy. Find joy, everyone, in small things and try to see the wonder and beauty in our lives because it is there, and we can’t let anxiety over the world burning to the ground around us drive joy out and replace it with misery. I’m going to try to mention at least one thing every day on here that brings me joy, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. I’m not an optimistic person so I doubt very seriously that I’ll either remember every day or will even be able to think of something, but this morning, as the sun shines and all the snow is melting outside, I feel contented and happy and at peace. It’s a good feeling, too, and something I encourage all of us to work towards as we head into this brave new world.

I have to admit I’ve been watching a lot of World War II documentaries during this snow break, and while I’ve mostly watched them about the Pacific War the last few years, this past week I’ve focused my documentary viewing on Nazi Germany and the Holocaust. (Can’t imagine why…) It’s kind of eye-opening, and the way the Allies treated the Germans–forcing them to clean up the concentration camps, having to see what they ignored and pretended to ignore in all of its horror (to be fair, I’m sure they didn’t know the extent of what was happening because it’s almost impossible to even conceive of, let alone believe, that any modern Christian European nation would efficiently exterminate twelve million people, but who wants to be fair to Nazis?), and as a nation they learned. We learned nothing from our own civil war and the white supremacy baked into our system; and we missed the opportunity to stomp out racism and white supremacy after that war ended…and never corrected the revisionist history promoted by the Klan and their Klan-wives. That’s kind of why we are where we are now. If we’d simply held firm and never allowed Southerners to memorialize their treason with statues and monuments to serve as reminders of their treasons…but they were venerated instead of pissed on, which is less than such monuments deserve. Fuck the Lost Cause; it deserved to be nothing more than dust in the archives.

And yes, I worked on the book last night after I finished my work at home duties, and overall, it went pretty well despite the rust and creaky muscles. I am feeling so much better about writing, being able to write, and getting everything done that I need to get done to get caught up and back on schedule for this weekend. We may go to Costco later on–if they’re open–but I am going to wait to go make groceries and check the mail until tomorrow, when I can be relatively certain most places will be open. It’s amazing how much of the snow has disappeared over night; my stairs and the walk are clear now. I think once I finish this I may walk out and check my car and the street.

And on that note, Constant Reader, I am heading into the spice mines to get things done. Have a great Friday, and remember to take a moment and experience joy–no matter how small of a delight it may be!

True Love Ways

Wednesday morning and we’re still having snow days at work. Yesterday was absolutely unreal. I got up late (thanks, Sparky) and came downstairs to see it was actually snowing outside, and there was already snow accumulated on the ground! It also continued to snow most of the day–I kept looking out my workspace window to see how much more had accumulated since I last looked, and it was always, always more. It’s very weird to see crepe myrtles frosted with snow, you know? I appreciated the two extra days off with pay, not going to lie, but what a freaky fucking week already, right? A BLIZZARD IN NEW ORLEANS. So glad climate change is a myth–drill baby drill! We actually got almost ten inches of snow, which either ties the old record set in the 1890’s or breaks it; depends on your news source, actually. There’s still snow on the ground this morning, and it’s only twenty degrees outside. We’re now in a “black ice” situation with the roads, and the city contracted some snow plows from Indiana to clear the roads and put down salt (reminder to locals not used to snow and salted roads–wash your car as soon as you can to get the salt off. Maybe that’s not a thing anymore, but it wasn’t good for it when I was growing up in snowy weather. The city may even stay closed down tomorrow; how bizarre. I doubt very seriously that I am going to get another day off with pay, but we shall have to see this afternoon when they have their management phone call.

Another reason the blizzard was so delightful was because it basically turned everyone in the city into kids again; so many people were out having fun in the snow–something they may not be able to do again in their lifetimes here–and it was kind of contagious. Everyone, it seemed, from the newscasters broadcasting 24/7 down to the rank-and-file New Orleanians, was struck by this sense of awe and delight that was kind of contagious and very, oddly enough, healing. It was just three weeks ago that Bourbon Street was attacked, but yesterday went a long way towards reviving the joie de vivre that is so special and engrained here into our very beings. It was kind of a reset, in a way. It was very distracting, too–I kept looking outside to see how much more had accumulated; I kept checking the news to see more videos of people enjoying themselves in the snow–I liked the makeshift sleds people were using on the levees, and the cross-country skiers, and the people who were being pulled by cars on makeshift sleds along the streets. It stayed toasty warm inside all day, too, which was lovely. I did manage to get some things done yesterday; not much as I was distracted and you know me and shiny objects, but still got some things done. I’m hoping to get more things done today, and maybe a return to normalcy either tomorrow or Friday. I really do need to make a to-do list this morning so I can make sure I am getting everything done that I need to get done. How much do I love how Louisiana reacted to a blizzard? It definitely reminded me of why I love living in New Orleans so much. It still kind of trips me out to look out and see snow on the ground still–but it’s nice and warm here in the apartment.

I’ve still not picked out my next read, but I am leaning towards She Who Was No More, a classic French suspense thriller, which was also the basis for the film Les Diaboliques, which is one of my favorite films of all time (I originally saw the made-for-television remake, Reflections of Murder, with Joan Hackett, Tuesday Weld and a delicious young Sam Waterston). The author team who wrote it also wrote Vertigo, which was the basis for the classic Hitchcock film, and another book I’d like to read at some point. I did spend some time yesterday writing–not nearly enough time, of course–but we are watching a show called White Lies, starring Natalie Dormer, whom I’ve loved ever since she played Anne Boleyn in The Tudors, and it’s interesting. It’s set in South Africa and so it also deals a bit with racial discrimination and bigotry (how can anything set in South Africa not touch on it?), but it’s very well done and very well-written and I like that the main character is actually prickly and not a nice woman, which is always more fun to watch anyway. She Who Was No More is also rather short, making it a quick read as well. (I did read the first page of Amina Akhtar’s Almost Surely Dead, and it pulled me right in, so that will most likely be the next one up.)

I also got the cover art for my new Scotty and I really do like it. I should probably do a cover reveal entry here, and on Substack; this is the year, after all, that I decided to put more effort into my career. The book never seems real to me until I see the cover art, which is always a moment of oh wow I really like that turning into fuck, I need to write it now very quickly. Sometimes, though, that is just the kick in the seat of the pants you need to get serious and work super-hard to get it done. I also have two short stories to write by the end of the month and I also have to write the introduction to the SAS anthology, since I was the contest judge. That was an interesting experience; I’m not used to reading short stories to judge them, I’m generally reading them editorially (unless they are already in print) which was a problem, because I generally make mental notes about what to fix story-wise the first time I read them and then the second time I read more thoroughly, for character, setting, and language. So, it took some getting used to, believe me. And they were all really good stories; so I eventually had to go with the ones I liked the best to pick the top three, and even then, any one of the stories could have been the winner or a runner-up; what a plethora of riches I had to choose from.

And on that note, I should probably finish this and get on with my second snow-day. I am really getting spoiled by this unexpected vacation, and it’s really going to suck to have to go back to work again. So have a lovely mid-week Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later–you never know.

It’s the Same Old Song

I woke up to snow on the ground and it’s still snowing! I’m not used to seeing stuff floating around outside my windows–I’m so used to rain I don’t even notice it when I’m sitting here at my desk, so that’s weird. Our office closed for the day–and I do think the entire city has completely shut down; even our gym closed–and they’re almost like Waffle House. #madness. It’s very weird, but it’s not cold inside the house (it’s chillier here in the kitchen, of course) and it’s kind of snuggly and toasty warm. We’ve not had cold weather like this since we got the new HVAC after the Great Mardi Gras Freeze of 2021, so I my concerns about the cold were primarily about it being very cold inside, and clearly, it was nothing to be terribly concerned with for long. I’m even comfortable here by the windows, and am not shivering. It’ll be lovely reading in my chair later; which reminds me, I’m trying to pick out my next read; I’m torn between an old French classic of suspense and something more current and diverse. I have all kinds of things to get done today, and I’m definitely going to spend some time in my easy chair with whatever I choose to read next. I may spend some time with my non-fiction read, too, so I can get further into it. (White Too Long, about how Christianity has helped hold up white supremacy in this country.)

I chose to make yesterday a nice day by not giving the authoritarian takeover of the country any oxygen or space in my brain. I see the older Democrats are failing the country (Marco Rubio was confirmed 99-0? Really?) and rolling over like the complicit lapdogs they are, screaming about norms and respect for institutions–which is what you do when you can’t lead. We are watching the history of January 6th being rewritten, right before our eyes. This is very similar to the rewriting of history done by Southerners (Southern women, I might add; white women have always been garbage, for the record) after the Civil War as they romanticized the days of chattel slavery and created the Lost Cause Mythology that so many Southerners cling to so desperately (it’s our heritage! Yeah, well, I don’t see a vast swathe of Germans arguing their “heritage” has been erased, have you? There are some, of course–there will always be garbage people). But show the entire heritage, then. Show how brutal and inhumane it was; and I really don’t understand why people are proud of heritage that includes human trafficking, but hey–y’all do you, okay? Don’t explain your position to me because you’ll just make me think even worse of you.

And believe me, I can always think worse of people. Always. And really–can you ever go wrong expecting their worst from people? They rarely disappoint.

I did see a lot of performative ally-ship on social media, too–the same straight white guys who were just joking about “gay marriage” the other day are suddenly queer allies again, of course. Can’t miss a chance at one of their “I’m one of the good guys” performances, can we? It’s really kind of sad in a way, that they don’t even get how awful they are when they go into default mode. But can’t miss a chance at getting likes and clicks for the performance…when they’re going to go back to making homophobic jokes and slurs, and isn’t it funny when two straight white men make gay marriage jokes, because what could possibly be funnier than two straight white men acting like caricatures of gay men? Ah, ha ha ha ha, no worries, because the joke is that of course these two absolute paragons of masculinity are acting what they think gay men are like in their heads. What’s even funnier is the two of you wouldn’t even get a second look in a gay bar from anyone apart from the visually impaired. Right now, I’m better built than either of you at sixty-three, and I wouldn’t take my shirt off in a gay bar. Trust me, you wouldn’t even be a 5 at the gay bar. What you’re actually telling me is you’re both incredibly insecure in your masculinity to the point that you have to build it up by punching down on gay men….but you’re actually punching up, as all indecent bigots do. Sorry your dicks are too small to satisfy a woman, and your ass is too dirty for gay men.

And people wonder why I don’t trust straight people. There were plenty of other allies clicking the laughing emojis too–because is there anything funnier than a gay couple? I may leave town for Bouchercon, seriously. So tired of the same old song, you know? And no matter how much I call it out, subtweeting doesn’t really seem to do the trick anymore because they are so convinced they are the good guys that they don’t need to check or examine their own behavior, because “good guys” are so convinced they’ve done all the work they need to, and they clearly haven’t, and running homophobic “jokes”? Sorry, you’re not one of the good guys, and save your apologies for someone who gives a shit, or is gullible and stupid enough (like I used to be) to actually believe you. If and when it came to it, what exactly would you do if they started rounding up queers? Make a few posts to show how amazing you are? That’s the kind of allyship that ended up with twelve million people being exterminated in camps in eastern Europe. I know exactly what you’d be doing if you lived in Germany in the 1930’s, or in the American South in the 1850s.

The snow is really coming down now! So, it’s probably time for me to head into the spice mines. I need to write my review of Bemused, as well as my review of the book Ode to Billy Joe. It’s off to the spice mines with me now on this weirdly snowy January day in New Orleans.

Don’t Bring Me Down

Saturday morning and how are you, Constant Reader? I overslept this morning, because I was a bit tired from the gym and running errands yesterday. It rained all night (part of the late sleep, methinks) and it’s raining now, in fact. I don’t think the rain is going to let up again (or for long) until the cold weather gets here whenever it decides to arrive; probably overnight on Monday (it’s almost like God doesn’t approve of Monday, doesn’t it?). But I feel very good today. Paul will be gone most of the afternoon and will most likely be working upstairs for the rest of the day when he does get home. I need to make groceries today, but am hoping the locusts haven’t descended on the grocery stores to doomsday prep for the winter storm and snow in New Orleans. (Snow in New Orleans is absolutely insane. It’s happened before but it’s very rare–and I really do need to write a Scotty book called Winter Storm Waltz, or Snow Day Story or something like that.) I grew up in snow, and learned how to drive in snow when I was a teenager. I also lived in Minneapolis for an incredibly bitterly cold and snowy winter, so while I dislike the stuff for the most part (and because it requires cold to happen), it doesn’t really bother me when we have the rare, occasional frozen precipitation every few years or so. But New Orleans has no idea how to deal with it because most people here have never had to learn, and what to do when your car starts to slide has to be instinctive, almost a second nature, whereas here? Everyone will drive ten miles an hour and will slam on the brakes when they slide, which causes a disaster for them and everyone else on the road, so yeah, probably best to not deal with terrified New Orleanians on the road Tuesday. I imagine the roads will be closed, which will make getting to work difficult, and I’ll no doubt have to get up early in the morning anyway to find out if the office is closed (shades of snow days in school!), but who knows what’s going to happen–and the northern part of the state will get hammered much worse than we will down here south of I-10 (I-10 is the temperate dividing line in Louisiana). It’ll be interesting, to be sure. No model tracking seems to agree, which makes it all a SURPRISE.

I don’t have much to do outside of the house other than some errands, which I’ll do later on. I don’t think there’s anything pressing we need to see on television other than the Australian Open, which will also be great background noise. I don’t get into tennis as much as I did when the Williams sisters played, and I definitely miss Rafael Nadal. I’ve not watched enough of the younger players to be a fan yet–for some reason I don’t watch nearly as much tennis as I used to–but I used to get every excited when it was time for a major tournament, and now I forget about them entirely unless Paul mentions them–and even he doesn’t seem all that interested anymore, at least not the way he used to be. Of course, neither of us play anymore either, which might have something to do with it. I can’t even imagine trying to run around the court now, let alone trying to swing the racket with my bad arm (my backhand was two handed). That ship has sadly sailed, but I am looking forward to the day when my weight lifting is back to what it was before the injury–just being able to do heavier weights alone, and I am being patient with the slowness of the progress. (I got frustrated when I tried to go back the times since the surgery.) Patience is the key. I did make it to the gym yesterday–even walked over there–which did kind of wear me out a bit, but it was a good tired, and I am sure that helped me sleep so well last night. (The heavy blankets–man, who knew what a difference to sleeping that would make!) Yesterday was overall a pretty good day. I got my work from home duties taken care of, did some chores, ran my errands, and even wrote for a little while. I also started reading Farrah Rochon’s Bemused, which is absolutely delightful and a book I am really looking forward to getting back to (once I finish this and go to my easy chair so Sparky will stop attacking me and go to sleep); I’m also looking forward to getting caught up on things and doing some writing today. We watched LSU beat Florida in gymnastics last night at the PMAC, which was fun and the Tigers were even a bit off and could have scored way higher than they did. It’s going to be an exciting gymnastics season here in Louisiana, isn’t it? I also got some cleaning done around here, which was great and I hope to keep that momentum going so by the end of the long weekend, the Apartment will at long last be finally back in order.

Hilariously, yesterday I actually failed in my “block and don’t engage on social media” vow when some stupid troll tried coming for me. Before remembering not to engage, I fired off several rapid-fire trolling responses, and waited an hour to block the bot/troll/subhuman, to make sure they saw the responses before blocking. I had commented on one of Carrie Underwood’s posts about her getting on her knees for MAGA (y’all called Kamala a whore; for me that means MAGA women are not off the table and deserve every pie in the face they so richly deserve), and here comes the fucking bot/troll/subhuman out from underneath “her” bridge (quotes because I am not convinced it was actually a woman; frankly this person’s humanity was definitely questionable. Her response to me was hey beta boy and went on to be the usual drooling lickspittle bullshit MAGA subhumans they are. So, I looked at her profile: proud gay conservative woman, wife, mom and grandmother. MAGA! Patriotism! I replied, oh a gay conservative? Please die in a fire. Not nice, but how could a so-called “gay conservative woman” use a gay slur to refer to someone else in the community? They don’t, and any queer person who would is simply a quisling hoping to be a guard in the camps. “She” then told me she was going to make me “internet famous” and tagged some gay conservative “influencer” (please) to “blow up my life” and “regret ever being born.” Naturally, I clicked through to this person’s profile and WOW. A whole 32k followers, most of whom were most likely bots and alt accounts. I replied, do your worst. I fought off the Wildmons, Concerned Women for America, and the American Family Association. You think I’ms cared of some nameless faceless bitch on social media and the pathetic expired twink you snitch tagged? Bring it on. After fifteen minutes, I added, still waiting. Maybe you don’t have any friends? I waited another fifteen minutes, and added, big talk and no action, what a surprise from a sad pathetic soul whose life is as empty and sad as “her” threats. I waited another hour, and nothing. I blocked them both. I guess she thought I was going to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep? I also said I’s rather be a beta boy than an omega skank licking Trump’s ass-crack. Nothing. After another hour waiting for the promised Internet pile-on (I was going to just block them all), I blocked both her and the expired twink she tagged.

And for the record, I can’t speak for all, but I have never, ever known an actual woman who called herself “a gay woman.” The word is lesbian, bitch. “Gay woman” is an absolute red flag for me; the only time I ever hear a woman say she’s gay is in a TV show or a movie, and it never sits right with me. Gay is almost exclusively used for men, and saying “gay woman” is, at best, misogynist because using that word, even to describe the entire community (which is why I say queer) erases women. So, I find it really hard to believe there’s any lesbian out there who would be misogynist; but then again, conservative gay woman says it all, doesn’t it? If she were a real person, she’s more deserving of pity than contempt; imagine hating everything you are so badly.

Don’t bring the heat for me unless you are prepared to be incinerated. I never start it, but I will fucking finish it–and trust me, straight people, I’d highly recommend you don’t poke with the homophobe stick unless you are prepared to have your self-worth decimated.

And for the record, straight people joking about being in a same-sex relationship isn’t funny, it’s actually pathetic and homophobic–and it’s as tired as your macho man masculinity, girls.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Saturday. Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow or perhaps later today; one never really knows, does one?

How Much I Feel

Work at home Friday! Isn’t that exciting? It is for me, especially since I don’t have to put in many hours, which is good because I don’t have much to do, other than some paperwork and quality assurance and studying up on a new testing technology we will be piloting at work. I am going to go to the gym later and run some errands. I suspect we will be watching LSU Gymnastics in the evening, before moving on to a new show or a movie. We do live large here in the Lost Apartment, don’t we? It’s also not very cold this morning–granted, I’ve moved the needle a bit over the last few weeks about what is cold and what is not; I’ve also stopped fighting dressing properly for the cold (layers, always layers) out of that refusal to accept the fact that New Orleans gets uncomfortably cold for me time to time; that mentality of I live in New Orleans so I shouldn’t have to wear layers and I won’t, which was the kind of stubborn stupidity that I am trying to overcome in every aspect of my life.

I slept very well last night, but wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work, either–which was great. I cleaned the kitchen (leaving the dishes for today) and it was very nice to get up this morning and walk into a kitchen with clean counters and everything put away. Now that I’m getting better rest and exercise, I seem to have snapped out of the years-long cloud I’ve been under since the pandemic began FIVE years ago. The 2020’s haven’t been the best decade over all, have they? But the nice thing is my optimism is back; I believe in my ability to write again, and I am working out regularly again. I may even be willing to let more of the outside world into my peaceful little bubble here, but I am glad I disengaged from toxicity and from toxic people and a toxic community that embraces and will excuse away every last bit of its toxicity because “oh no we might upset the bigots! Can’t you be the bigger person?” My days of being the bigger person are history, collecting dust in the archives as I write this. I ain’t startin’ none, but as Paul says, “He never starts it, but he will finish it and I feel sorry for you.” I have no qualms with going low; I’ve always thought “going high” was a miscalculation in the first place, much as I love Michelle Obama, and I love that she’s not going to the ceremony ending decency for at least another four years. You don’t fight bullies with moral superiority because they don’t care about that shit. They never have. The party of “family values” who weaponized their “values” to scold everyone and scare people into voting for them, who said Bill Clinton’s adultery showed he didn’t have the moral character to be president, have foisted the only divorced presidents on the country to its great detriment each time. They also gave us our only president convicted of crimes in court. So, miss me with your moral superiority, trash–you have none.1

I did work on the book a little bit yesterday, and I am not happy with this chapter as it is written. It might be okay, and it might be because I am having some trouble with it–but I have to get out of “try to save as much of what you’ve already written” and start slashing and cutting and revising judiciously. But I feel very good about the book itself and where it’s going and what I am going to be able to say with it. I have so much to do this weekend! (Sparky really wants my desk chair to sleep in. He jumps up onto the desk and chirps and head butts me a few times. I try to put him in my lap or on my shoulders–nope, don’t want that. He jumped down to the floor just now and is staring at me, using his cat mental powers to will me out of the chair so he can sleep in it. He’s so cute.) But if I stay focused and relax, I should be able to get everything done that I want to get done this weekend as well as get some rest and relaxation. Monday is a holiday, and we may be getting snow by the end of the long weekend. The city will completely shut down if it does; they tend to close roads here when it snows and gets icy because we don’t have the infrastructure to deal with that here, which means if the office is closed, we’ll have to work from home or something; they’re never going to let us get paid and not work unless legally required to.

Capitalism at its finest.

But yes, I feel good this morning. Which is lovely. I think the day will turn out well for me, all things considered. I do want to do some chores around here today, get those dishes out of the way, run my errands and go to the gym, work on my book and do some reading. I do need to make a to-do list (I started making one yesterday but got interrupted and never finished). I am hoping for a terrific weekend, and to get a lot done–but if I don’t, I don’t. There is an extra day to this weekend, after all. Tuesday morning I will have to get up early to find out if the office is closed, and if it is, I probably won’t go back to bed.

And on that note, I am going to go do the dishes and get to work. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and remember to make sure you’re taking time to give your brain a break from the horrors that are to come. And I’ll be back in the morning, most likely.

  1. All I ever have to do when confronted with their attempts to be morally superior, I always reply, “and where were you during the HIV/AIDS pandemic?” That shuts them the fuck up every time. ↩︎

Suspicions

Thursday, last day in the office blog and while I am looking forward to the three-day weekend, I am dreading Monday–for obvious reasons–and will instead try to get shit done while taking the occasional moment to study Civil Rights some more, maybe even read my current nonfiction tome, White Too Long, about how Christianity and white supremacy have been intertwined for so long. But the week thus far has been a good one, and productive; almost like returning to the gym kicked something else into gear physically. I’ve not been physically tired (stiff, yes) or sore much since going back, and I’ve been feeling more energetic and empowered, too. I’m sleeping better, too–rarely waking up during the night or opening my eyes before Sparky gets into the bed with me right around when it’s time for me to get up. I don’t know if its the endorphins awakening everything up again, but I am more than happy to take it; I’ve certainly missed the joy of endorphin highs. I also got some amazing work done on the book last night, and that also felt good. I am doing the things that give me pleasure again, and turns out that makes me happier and more fulfilled and I enjoy my life more than just endure it.

Go fucking figure. No notes, highly recommend.

I really can be remarkably ignorant sometimes.

But the book is, as I said, coming along swimmingly. I’m starting to get into a rhythm, and I’m starting to hear Scotty’s voice again. I need to buckle down and focus harder on getting the book done–not going to be easy with Carnival on the horizon–but I’ve handled these kinds of situations before (a deadline right after Carnival) and I think as my writing muscles stretch and flex and rebuild and wake up again, hopefully I’ll be able to get back into my high productivity gear again. I know I want to start reading Bemused, maybe even as early as tonight, and spend some time with it this weekend as well.

I am also petty enough to enjoy seeing that Dollar General Anita Bryant, aka Carrie Underwood, is still getting dragged for the piece of excrement that she is. Really funny how some (straight white) people think we need to unify behind white supremacy is a serious tell, y’all. I never forgive bullies and I will never forgive Anita Bryant or her modern day iteration, either. I will never forgive people who think I should “rise above” being a target of hatred, bigotry, and prejudice and join hands with my oppressors. You want to be a doormat for the patriarchy, that’s fine–just know I will never forget or forgive, and I will point and laugh and mock for the rest of my life.

Choices.

It rained all day and all night, and it doesn’t feel that cold this morning–maybe I’m getting used to weather in the forties? AIEEEE! But we have nasty weather (as does everyone else) coming next week. It’ll be a little colder–in the thirties, but the wind chill factor will make it feel like single digits… which could bring us…gulp…snow. SNOWPOCALYPSE!!! I really do have to write about a murder on the day of a snowstorm in New Orleans. Obviously, the city freaks out and shuts down almost completely. I imagine I will have to go into work regardless–we rarely close–but a snow day could be fun, too. It’s going to be horribly cold everywhere on Tuesday, as hell is apparently freezing over. Not very subtle there, Mother Nature, but oh so apropos. Looks like the Senate Republicans are going to knuckle under and do what their Fuhrer demands to approve his terrible cabinet picks–never ever bet on Republicans having a spine or a love for country over party–so, yeah. The future’s so bleak I imagine a terminator is going to be arriving from the future at any moment.

Oddly enough, despite that horrible long dark tunnel the country is entering on Monday, I’m also getting excited about writing my next book, which has me champing to get this one written. I feel confident again, and it’s nice to think hey this is good rather than all of this is garbage why do you even bother? I love having creative thoughts and ideas running through my head all the time again. Researching pop culture and the news from the early 1970s has been fun and interesting, and has brought back a lot of memories. It’s amazing what you’ve forgotten about completely but with a reminder, will have a rush of other memories associated with that one. There were so many magazines in the 1970s, about everything. One of my teens is a car nut rebuilding the engine in a junked car since he can’t afford to buy a new or used one, and he basically wants to work on cars when he grows up, despite his parents’ wanting him to go to college, and oh my God how many car/hot rod magazines existed? How many magazines about the music industry? There were so many magazines you could actually have a comfortable freelance writing career, and when Playboy used to pay $5000 for a short story. Five thousand dollars for a short story. I’d weep with joy to get that kind of payday for a short story.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, and I may be back later. One never can be sure.

Sorry, bud, if you’re serving me my morning coffee you need skimpier shorts.