Category: Southern Gothic

I Wouldn’t Have Missed It (For the World)

Tuesday!

It feels a little off to be heading for the office for the first time this week today, and I will most likely think it’s Monday all day. Ah, well, there are worse things, right? (Gestures wildly at the world around me.) I was busy thinking about other things yesterday that I kind of lost track of the news. I think we’re blockading the Strait of Hormuz even though the idea was to open it? This 3-D chess is just too much for my obviously simple mind. And a congressmen from each party resigned due to credible sexual assault/harassment charges, but the adjudicated rapist is still in office? Did I miss anything besides PPP (Pedo President Pestilence) striking out at infamous fifth-place finisher Riley Gaines because she played the blasphemy card on His Imperial Flatulence? (I do wish he’d added, “she’s a loser. She finished fifth.”) The worst part of our current situation is not knowing what news is actually true or not. I literally hate this timeline. I’ve been checking out both the BBC (not entirely trustworthy) or Al-Jazeera (same) but…I trust them more than I do our American outlets.

I also think I have actually figured out why I am having difficulty reading anymore; it’s because I have to read for my works-in-progress and since I am not reading those, my mind isn’t letting me read for pleasure. It’s more of that evangelical Christian work-for-reward mentality that was drilled into me as a child (more of the miseducation I and so many others received); if you’re not reading for your work you cannot read for your pleasure. So, so puritanical, and so typical of the American Dream mindset, whose very first corollary is you must work your life must be about work and should revolve around work and then you die.

I personally think that kind of live to work mentality is a huge problem, but…what can I say? My preference is always to be relaxing. Sue me for not fitting into the American norm (AGAIN). I also think this is the smarter way to live, but others are certainly free to disagree. Maybe the difference is because my true calling isn’t a 9-to-5? My writing has always been, to me, my true job, which gives me a healthy distance from my day job; I don’t depend on it for my self-worth or self-esteem. I perform my job efficiently, my clients like me, and I believe in the work I do while I’m there, which puts me ahead of so many Americans. I never wanted to chase dollars; contentment was always more appealing to me and feeling well-rounded. I haven’t even let my actual career my life, either. It’s satisfying. I enjoy writing, even the drudgery parts I have to endure to finish telling the story I want to tell. Some discipline is necessary, of course; probably more than I certainly have allowed lately, that’s for sure. I want to get back to writing some fiction this week; anything, really, be it a short story or a book.

We started watching a new show on Apple TV this past weekend, Stick with Owen Wilson. It sounded like it could have been like Ted Lasso, but at the same time it’s another tired sports cliche show so I wasn’t wild about starting it. Well, it is like Ted Lasso, and it’s heartwarming and sweet and hits all the right notes for people who’ve been looking for their next great watch. I’m looking forward to watching more.

And huzzah for Hungary! The masses are rejecting authoritarianism (Trumpism?) worldwide, and it is wondrous in our eyes. It also gave me hope for the midterms. MAGA is burning to the ground, but they still have Fox and all the rest of the lamestream media carrying their water for them–and even the ones who are leaving MAGA aren’t becoming progressives; they’ll just hibernate until their next demagogue comes along. We’re always so relieved the threat is over that we kind of want to just get back to normal without any punishment, or atonement…just like after the Civil War. Are we finally going to deal with all of this shit from the past, or are we going to leave it to fester and rot and poison the country from within yet again? My guess is the latter; it’s what we always do.

Hungary

I don’t feel tired this morning, either. I didn’t want to get up at my usual time, but did and I am not as tired as I worried I’d feel. I am going to make groceries on my way home from work tonight, and I have some things I need to get done. I did spend some time after work yesterday cleaning up the kitchen and even doing the floors, and it was nice coming downstairs to an orderly kitchen this morning. I shaved my head yesterday, too, so am feeling a bit better about how I am presenting to the world today–I hate how gray what little hair I have left is–and I have a sink full of dishes I need to wash tonight after work. But the coffee is kicking in and I am feeling good, so I am going to go head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Given my lifelong affinity for ancient Egypt, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that I became a cat lover.

Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses

Here we are on my first ever (and hopefully last ever) work-at-home Monday. I did used to do work-at-home Mondays, but I didn’t like them very much. I didn’t get up as early as I would have liked to, but …the bed was comfy, the blankets were heavy and warm, and Sparky was being a cuddle-bug. Since I didn’t have to get up early to shower before work, I allowed myself more time in the bed this morning. What can I say? I don’t know why Sparky has become a morning cuddlebug, either–he rarely sleeps in the bed with us; Skittle and Scooter loved the bed and slept there without us all the time, but not Sparky. I do have a lot of work-at-home stuff to get done today, which means fighting with Sparky over my chair (something I also had to do with both of his predecessors)…but there are very worse things.

A lot of worse things, actually. I shudder to check the news this morning. Hmm, I see someone sent out an AI image of himself as Jesus. Remember those ten commandments that the Right wants to post in every classroom and outside of public buildings? I believe the very first one is Thou shalt have no other God before Me. Maybe they want to put them up because they need a constant reminder?

I think I may be on to something here. Sheesh. And yes, I screen shot the blasphemy to keep to share whenever some fucking smug Christian pulls that faith bullshit with me on line.

Yesterday was kind of nice. I slept late, felt relaxed and good, and did get some things done around the apartment. I was also creative for a lot of the day, thinking and taking notes and trying to wrap my mind around a few things. My mind is flooding with creativity again, and was kind of all over the map the last few days so much that I didn’t even remotely try to contain it and just let it roam wherever it wanted to go without restraint. I also realized part of my motivational issue with writing right now is because I have so much to work on I feel overwhelmed and paralyzed at the daunting chore ahead of me. But…that isn’t helpful and only increases the feeling of being overwhelmed, so I need to start putting one foot in front of the other and getting things done. So…list and prioritize, get organized and stop just floating from day to day with no plan. I was going to get the mail and maybe some groceries today after my work at home duties, but I can also do that on my way home from the office tomorrow. It was a gorgeous day yesterday, and it looks like another one today–this truly is the best part of the year in New Orleans, when everything is blooming and the air smells lush and sweet and redolent with sweet olive, jasmine, magnolia and honeysuckle. I’ve yet to see a stinging caterpillar, and the return of the termites is just around the corner.

I’ve also kind of reached that same point about the world and the country as I have with the writing; all I do now is just laugh at the insanity and think about how apropos that we’re dancing so close to the abyss because everything is fucking stupid. Yes, I think I may have snapped. I mean, we have the First Lady throwing her husband under the Epstein bus and bringing it back to the forefront again, the disaster of the war and the explosion of inflation because of it–I don’t even want to think about gas prices; another reason I don’t want to leave the house today–but at least there was a bright spot in Hungary as the people there voted out right-wing extremism in a landslide; another slap in the face to MAGA as the world recognizes the scourge of fascism and rejects it yet again. Hey Americans–you have an opportunity to do the same and purge these anti-American traitors this fall. Maybe we can even get the world to start forgiving us for our arrogance and stupidity.

I started a reread of Listen for the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney yesterday on my iPad, and the Gothic-tropes were just radiating off the pages as I made it through the first chapter. I originally read this shortly after Victoria Holt’s The Secret Woman and Mary Stewart’s The Ivy Tree, which put me all in on romantic suspense for the next two decades. Gothics/domestic suspense were about women’s fears; and what could be more hardboiled than thinking the man you love might be trying to kill you? This was my first Whitney novel for adults after reading many of her juvenile mysteries; it had everything I could possibly want: a fading movie star, a decades-old unsolved murder mystery, and some histrionic family melodrama. Leigh Hollins is a professional young woman with emotional issues, so she wasn’t an heiress; her father was a best selling novelist so she had some privilege; she’s in her early twenties. And then it’s off to Norway; more on this later obviously once the reread is complete.

The next Scotty is going to be a sort of Mardi Gras mystery, even though I’ve already done one, and am still working out how to include and interweave all the things I want to include and its going to include some callbacks to the series history, methinks, which will make it more fun for me to write.

I also completed my rewatch of The Traitors fourth American season, and am digesting my thoughts to write about my latest obsession.

And on that note, tis another cup of coffee for me and into the spice mines for the day. Have a great Monday, everyone, and I will be back tomorrow morning bright and early.

Beautiful physique model Dick DuBois from the 1950s and the “fitness” magazines—which would also be an interesting setting for a queer noir.

Wide Open Spaces

Sunday morning and I am still feeling disoriented. I kept thinking yesterday was Friday, and that today would be Saturday. I have an errand to run and some groceries to have delivered. I stayed up late finishing the laundry–it was launder the bed linens day, postponed from Friday, which also helped with the day mind-fuckery–but slept very well and slept in. The kitchen looks much better than it did yesterday morning, but it still needs some work. After Paul got up, we just had a lazy day hanging out and watching television. It was indeed a gorgeous day out there yesterday and it looks like today is going to be just as lovely. I may take a walk later just to revel in the day and get some exercise. Maybe I’ll stretch today too–can’t hurt, right? I’m starting to feel the itch to become more physically active, since I am not nearly as tired all the time the way I used to be. It’s so lovely not to be tired, Constant Reader, you have no idea!

I can also tell my injection is due next Monday.

I was thinking–I did do a lot of that yesterday–about my recent newsletter essay about gender roles and my not fitting in as a child as a boy who didn’t conform to my assigned gender role (which meant I was gender-nonconforming) and that really, it was the late 1970’s/early 1980s when those rigid roles began to loosen slightly. I’m enjoying all this introspection and self-discovery journey I’ve been on for the past few years (beginning with Mom’s death), which also makes me realize how long I avoided examining myself and my life. I thought I did a lot of navel-gazing before, but it was always pretty shallow and never went very deep, ever; often, I think, because there were things about myself I preferred not to know, or to confront. But I’m more interested now in accepting patterns of behavior that I now understand were driven by the anxiety, which is now under control.

I also spent some more time paging through Jackson Square Jazz and kind of enjoying it, because it also is reminding me of writing the book and the research that went into it, particularly the Cabildo Fire, which was a real event that I wrote into the book as a pivotal moment for the plot and I got to write about some New Orleans history that may or may not have ever been talked about in fiction. (I also remember being rather taken aback when someone told me the pre-Katrina Scotty books were also important historically because they documented what gay Quarter life was like before everything changed; Jean Redmann did the same for the lesbian side.) I am in the thinking stages of the eleventh (!!!) Scotty right now, too–I know the plot elements I want to hit–and I am also thinking about getting back into the in-progress manuscript I am trying to focus my energies on (rereading Christa’s story from Crime Ink: Iconic got me back into that mindset again, even as I realized I couldn’t tell my story as well as they told theirs); I need to immerse myself into that world again as I reconfigure my main character, who I was softening a bit. No, the main character, Greg, needs to be on the make, as they used to say back then, using his looks and his body to advance himself in Hollywood, while painting a dark picture of what being queer in Hollywood used to mean.

And so, on that note, I think I am going to bring this to a close and go have some breakfast before settling into my easy chair to read; I think I am going to reread Listen for the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney and try to get further into my first-time reading book. I also need to do the floors and clean up the workspace a bit this morning. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow on work-at-home Monday. Till then!

The beauty of Yosemite

Cheeseburger in Paradise

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I slept late. I fell asleep in my easy chair around ten thirty last night, woke up and went up to bed and didn’t get up this morning until nine thirty. Sparky was a sweetheart this morning, getting into the bed and snuggling until his hunger got the best of him and it was time for me to get up. How does he know which day is which? He doesn’t bother me at six in the mornings on the days when I don’t have to go to work, which is wild, or he’s a genius….which is hard for me to believe because he is such a complete dork sometimes. Always adorable, of course. I picked up his water fountain this week and so today, around everything I need to do and all the errands I need to run, I am going to assemble it to see if he’ll drink out of it. I have errands up the ass and the apartment is a wreck; laundry to do and dishes to wash, things to pick up and throw away and floors to vacuum. I was groggy when I first got up, but I am waking up and feeling better with every moment. I also swapped Friday-at-home for Monday-at-home and yes, I’ve not had a normal weekend in weeks. No wonder I feel so off-balance all the time…

I also wrote another newsletter yesterday–two this week!–about Christa Faust’s Derringer Award nominated short story, “Hollywood Prometheus” from Crime Ink: Iconic, which is fantastic. (You can read it here.) I had meant to write about every story in the book–I always want to do this with anthologies I am lucky enough to be in, and somehow never got around to it. Maybe since I am having so much trouble reading novels, I should switch to reading short stories again? A renewal of the Short Story Project and maybe even the Reread Project could do the trick; it’s always fun to revisit Mary Stewart or Phyllis A. Whitney, and since I do want to talk about the Gothic influence on me and my work in a newsletter at some point, why not go back and reread one for a “these books made me who I am .” I’d really like to tackle Green Darkness by Anya Seton again, but it’s soooo long. I used to love thick books–the longer the better (hence my deep dive into James Michener and Herman Wouk in high school)–but now I just think I ain’t got time for that. Who does? Seriously.

Last night we watched another episode of The Boys, which is very dystopian and a very harsh critique on our government, country, and politics, and I fucking love how pointed it is. We also watched the season premiere of Hacks–Jean Smart is so sharp and brilliant, and it’s just an excellent show–before I started getting sleepy. I also caught up on the news after I got home from the office yesterday, and Christ, there’s so much insanity and craziness in Washington and the country right now. All I do know for sure is that there’s no 3-D chess being played, anywhere–except maybe Tehran.

It’s also a stunningly beautiful morning outside; I think the high is the eighties. The sky is blue, no clouds anywhere, and I can see by the moving of the crepe myrtles there’s probably a really nice breeze. Maybe I can take the iPad outside and sit reading for a bit, which might be lovely. I’d also like to wash and clean out the car this weekend. It really needs to be waxed after using rubbing compound on it. Maybe I can do that when I visit Kentucky next. I was thinking about going up there in late June, after the wedding anniversary visit to Mom’s grave, and that would be the right kind of weather for sure.

I also made the right decision yesterday about my attitude about having to go into work. Now that I am medicated, I can make those kinds of decisions about my mental health rather than spiraling into bitter anger about the disruption to my routine. It was actually nice; I hadn’t done walk-in testing for the general population in years, and in all honesty, was worried about it some–part of my irritation. But I pulled off the scab, remembered how to be present, friendly and kind to the clients, and connected with all of them, which made me feel like I was helping these strangers, and that’s a good feeling. Maybe I should help out with that more often?

And on that pleasing note, I am heading into the spice mines for today. Have a lovely Saturday (that feels like Friday to me) and I will certainly be back again in the morning. Huzzah! Onward and upward!

After the Gold Rush

Today’s title is an old Neil Young song that I first heard as a cover by Prelude in 1974, and then again by Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt on their Trio II album, which is the best version in my opinion. Their harmonies are angelic, you know? The song’s lyrics are apocalyptic and strange, but also very beautiful. It actually inspired a novel I’ve never gotten to; one of those a bunch of college kids visit a ghost town in the California mountains and end up being picked off one by one type novels, but maybe someday I’ll get back to it. One never knows. I also figured out what to do with Sorceress and its unfinished sequel this weekend, too, which is very exciting. It was a pretty good weekend after all, wasn’t it?

I did feel a bit groggy yesterday morning, and it was overcast, which didn’t help get me motivated to wake up and get moving, and I was still a bit groggy and unmotivated when I got to the office. It wasn’t a slow day, but it wasn’t a busy day, either. I did hit a wall around noon, but after eating lunch I kind of had my strength and energy back so I made it through the day. I stopped and made a small bit of groceries on my home, and had every intention of doing chores when I got home–but my easy chair and Sparky made short work of that. Paul worked at home yesterday, so he came down and we finished watching The Night Agent, which we both enjoyed before going to bed last night. I feel pretty good this morning–didn’t want to get up, like always–but I am not achy and sore.

While I was watching television last night, I started paging through Jackson Square Jazz and thinking, hmm, this sentence is awkward and wouldn’t write it that way now here and there, so maybe I should go through and do a revision before getting it formatted and so forth. I was always hesitant about revising my old work–what’s done is done has always been my theory–but now I’m wondering if I should? There’s also a lot going on in that book, almost like I threw everything into it but the kitchen sink. It was more layered and deeper than Bourbon Street Blues, which was just a caper adventure. It was also nice seeing how much Scotty’s voice has changed over the years as he’s grown and matured; he was kind of a Peter Pan type, just enjoying his life and not thinking about the future–or worrying about it, too.

We’re going to be busy in the clinic today, so I will probably be tired when I get home tonight. I had to jump through a couple of hoops first, but I was able to get a new appointment to see my GI specialist–the expensive medication needs a renewal, or maybe I’ll be changed to something else, who knows? It’s hard to believe at this time last year was when I got so terribly and horribly sick. It seems like longer than a year ago to me, but time has that weird ability to seem either short or long, doesn’t it?

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again tomorrow morning on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday.

Every Which Way But Loose

Happy Easter to all who celebrate, and a happy Sunday to those who do not. We do not celebrate Easter, but we do recognize the Easter Bunny and candy because who doesn’t? My favorite parts of “Christian holidays” are inevitably always the parts appropriated from pagan holidays. Funny how that works, isn’t it? It’s also raining, and I slept in later than I’d hoped to. Sparky eventually got impatient waiting for me to get up and scratched my face near my left eye, and while I easily and happily could have slept longer, I am glad I got up. I feel rested, which is very nice, and relaxed. I didn’t really do a whole lot yesterday; I ran my errands and got home in the early afternoon and basically chilled for the rest of the day while Paul was at his office and the gym. He got home in time to watch LSU Gymnastics to win the regional final. They didn’t have a great meet, but still almost broke 198.00–which is incredible. After that we started watching Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen, but the first episode was just weird and odd and un-involving, so we moved on to season three of The Night Agent, which is a very fun action packed high energy international intrigue thriller. Gabriel Basso, who plays the lead, is very sexy, too.

While Paul was out, I watched a couple more episodes of season 4 of The Traitors. I am really going to enjoy writing about the show, but I definitely have to outline the essay so I don’t forget to talk about something I find interesting. Yesterday’s watch reminded me of how The Traitors somehow pulls off something I wouldn’t have thought possible–redeeming people I have disliked in other media. I was resistant to watching this particular season (which was still airing when we started watching) because I hated both Lisa Rinna and Candiace Dillard from their time on Real Housewives; but I really enjoyed them of The Traitors. Same with Colton Underwood; I didn’t love how he came out after his time on The Bachelor and it seemed like the powers-that-be thought they could make him–a very pretty blue-eyed blond white man–into THE Gay Celebrity, especially given his problematic past. I actually wound up liking him on this show, and maybe I should go back to his reality series about coming out and “learning to be gay”; I’ve been wanting to watch through some gay-base reality shows I’ve watched and how terrible they inevitably are (Drag Race being the sole exception). I’m also, while rewatching, remembering how Alabama Rob charmed us all–and seeing the seeds of Rob and Maura’s bond (it literally goes back to episode one) being planted makes her loyalty to him at the end make more sense; she really wasn’t his “dicktim.” (That’s another interesting thing about rewatching; you pick up on things you didn’t notice the first time through.)

After getting the mail, I swung by the Fresh Market on my way home, which I usually don’t mind as far as grocery stores are concerned. It’s slightly more expensive, but it’s never crowded and the customers aren’t nearly as annoying as the ones at Whole Foods (I get highly annoyed every time I shop there, which I why I don’t). But it seemed like all the entitled rich old white people somehow got an alert that they needed to go to the Fresh Market and show their whole asses. I was quite relieved when I put my bags in the car and skedaddled away from that portal to hell. I never do a big shop when I go there–the slightly more expensive thing–but I love their meat counter (lots of fresh meat options there) and they also sell Jelly Belly jelly beans there by weight. I love me some Jelly Belly jelly beans, but I stopped eating them when I got sick last year and haven’t bought any since. I snacked a bit on them last night and yes, I still love them. I just cannot overdo it with them because the goal here is to lose weight.

I also mailed some books yesterday. I still have two more copies to send out, and one to drop off Uptown, but I also did very little around the house yesterday because I was being a bit on the lazy side and relaxing. I’m going to try to do some cleaning today–at least get everything picked up and put away–and I am also going to try to do some reading this morning. I also want to try to get a newsletter out today, and I know which one I am going to try to get taken care of; I want to talk about Christa Faust’s Derringer Award nominated short story “Hollywood Prometheus” from Crime Ink: Icons. (I did find a way into my essays series about masculinity yesterday, too, but I want to think about that introductory prologue essay and let it marinate in my brain for a few days.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and clean up this mess of a kitchen and work space. I also have to balance my checkbook–always a joy–and do some other thankless tasks so I am not behind on anything anymore. Heavy heaving sigh. It’s also supposed to get cold later today, too. Woo-hoo!

Sexy fitness model and BGEast wrestler Rio Garza

My Destination

Wednesday!

I felt a bit more tired this morning than I did yesterday morning, and when I creaked out of bed my legs did feel a little bit tired. It also took a moment for the coffee to kick in and get my day going. I wasn’t tired at all yesterday, not even after stopping to make groceries on the way home. Paul was also home, which was super-great; it’s nice when we’re both home in the evenings, and I’ve missed that. We started watching this latest (and last) season of The Comeback, and Lisa Kudrow kills it as Valerie Cherish. Now that we’re back to normal, we can start getting caught up on all the shows we watch that have dropped new seasons, and there are new shows to get started watching, too–we shouldn’t have any issues with not having something to watch for a little while, at any rate.

I sent out a new newsletter yesterday (click here if you want to read it!) about twenty-plus years of Scotty. As I said recently, for decades I kept myself too busy to think much about the past and avoided it at all costs. But being so sick regularly (whether it was an injury/surgery or illness) these past few years forced me to sit with myself and thinking back. Maybe I should have done this all a long time ago? I don’t know, but I am sitting with things now, and letting go of some anger I’ve been holding onto for too long. I’ve never been big on self-reflection, and focusing on myself just always seemed selfish, if that makes any sense? Reminding yourself when you’re going through something that there are still people worse off than you are is also kind of self-defeating–if you don’t look out for yourself, who is going to? And I am enjoying the peace, frankly. Maybe I should have opened the door to selfishness sooner. Anyway, I feel mentally at peace (as much as anyone can with the world burning to the ground around us) and I intend to protect that at all costs. It’s also nice having down time, where I can just pet Sparky and watch whatever catches my fancy on my television. I need to get better still with time management, but last night when I got home I did a load of dishes and ran the dishwasher. I also need to pick up the kitchen and living room a little bit. Since today is April 1st (yay for April Fools Day) and this weekend is Easter (staying home on Sunday for sure)…it’ll be interesting. I have a dinner date for Friday evening with a friend in from out of town, so that should start my weekend off nicely. I do have to come into the office Friday morning for a department meeting, but will probably run some errands on my way home to get them out of the way once and for all.

But it has been interesting these past few years recognizing why I do certain things the way I do (it’s usually an anxiety coping measure I no longer need), and recognizing that some of my similarities to my mother were because we both suffered from generalized anxiety disorder.

Well, well, well, cosplay Kristi Noem just got so publicly embarrassed and humiliated that a smart woman would disappear forever from public life…but I don’t think that’s going to happen. In all honesty, I don’t care what her husband is into, and while yes, I can see how embarrassing and humiliating that would be for anyone, it’s really nobody’s business–and I might even be willing to not point and laugh if she wasn’t a completely garbage human being. You want privacy, bitch? Renee Good’s and Alex Vretti’s families would like to have them alive and well, and why aren’t they, you Nazi piece of shit? Fuck you now, fuck you tomorrow, and fuck you forever. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to explore these options, Crusty, if you weren’t fucking Corey Lewandowski. And how and why did these images leak now? If someone on the left had them, they would have come out before she was fired from her latest job. So…it stands to reason this leak came from her side of the aisle.

It also stands to reason that these lockstep MAGA politicians who love the taste of shoe leather and shoe polish probably have dark or embarrassing secrets themselves and are being held in line with blackmail.

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

Oscar winner Michael B. Jordan

All the Beautiful Worlds

Ah, you have to love waking up and checking your email and the first subject line you see is Reminder: Inspector Hole is now on Netflix. It always makes me laugh–as does the fact his first name is Harry–because I sometimes have the maturity level of a junior high student. I’ve always meant to get to Jo Nesbø’s highly acclaimed series, just never have. The Festivals will be over by Sunday night, and so normality might return to the Lost Apartment (I’m not counting on it) soon and we can start watching a new show, or the new season of a favorite. I’ll be done with The Traitors New Zealand (I’m not enjoying this season as much thus far, but it should start kicking into gear soon. I was bitterly disappointed they banished the hottest guy already, which threw a wrench in my social theory I was developing from watching. Then again, it could be the exception that proves the rule. Sorry, Fili, you were gone too soon) by the end of the weekend. I will be heading down to the Quarter later for the Saints and Sinners opening party, but will probably come home directly after. Everything I have to do is on Sunday, which will make for a long, draining day, and am very glad I wisely took Monday off to recover and run errands and get ready for the week. I have some work-at-home duties to get done and a training later this morning on-line, so I am also going to try to clean the apartment when my eyes get bleary and start to cross. I got up and fed Sparky on time before going back to bed for a couple of hours, so I feel very rested this morning. Sparky is also playful this morning, so he’s alternating between attacking me with claws and fangs or chasing a bottlecap. He really is adorable, if a bit of a pest sometimes.

I was tired when I left the office yesterday and came straight home from work. I plopped down into my chair with Lord Sparkster and caught up on the news, which was horrible as per usual with this regime. I obviously watched an episode of The Traitors because of course I did, have you been paying attention? I was going to start watching the new Paul Theroux documentary but after seeing the toxic white men all day on social media I just couldn’t face even watching these twerps getting mocked the way I am sure the documentary does (my favorite comment to these pricks on-line is “if everyone’s an alpha no one is”), but I’ll try it tomorrow or tonight when I get home from the party.

The world figure skating championships are also this weekend, with Ilia Malinin in first after the men’s short, with the other Americans in the Top Ten–and Amber Glenn and Isabeau Levito are third and fourth, in medal position. I was very happy to see Ilia’s short program on YouTube last night; he seems much freer and happier than he did in Italy at the Olympics.

All the homophobes are, of course, out in force since it was revealed that a future season of Bridgerton will actually feature a lesbian romance by changing the gender of the male lead to a woman. Oh, the straight white ladies—the same ones who creamed themselves—and still do—about Heated Rivalry, and members of the m/m community suddenly realizing, like gay men have been telling them for almost twenty years, that it’s a fetish for some of you and you need to listen to gay men and call out the homophobia which you never did.

For the record, you homophobic bitches, I read and consume lesbian art regularly because it’s good, not because it gets me off. If a gay man can read and enjoy lesbian art, a straight woman certainly can. Then again, if it’s okay for straight women to write vampires and space aliens why can’t they write gay men? (This has been said to me any number of times. Yes, we only exist in fiction, bitch.) I saw a lot of this misogynistic patriarchical thinking from a lot of hateful straight white women yesterday, and no, you’re never beating the allegations, ladies. Clean up your community and stop attacking gay men.

Someone also pointed out something interesting in response to one of those right-wingers who posted about how he has liberal friends and they all get along because they don’t talk about politics—they noted these posts only ever come from the right, never the left. How often do you see someone on the left post about how they’re still friends with their right-winger friends and family because they don’t talk politics? It’s never someone who isn’t MAGA, and the post inevitably was triggered by being cut off from friends and family members because you voted for a pedophile who’s destroying the world. “You make politics your personality!“ Well, I sure as fuck wouldn’t if I were MAGA, for one, and for two, it’s not politics, it’s morality. How many “I regret my vote” posts and videos have you seen from Harris voters? None? I do see a lot of pining and sadness from MAGA people who’ve been cut off, but they never seem to grasp what their vote and support actually showed decent human beings about who they actually are. I wouldn’t feel safe having my kids around people who support pedophilia, or just are okay with looking the other way.

Sigh.

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

The Temple of Poseidon, Attica, Greece

Love Is

…definitely not getting up at six on a Monday morning, methinks. I slept pretty well, but didn’t want to get up (I never do, so nothing new there), and am a little discombobulated; yesterday kept seeming like Saturday, and it wasn’t. My primary accomplishments of the day were getting things delivered so I didn’t have to leave the house, I finished reading Mississippi Blue 42, and finished watching season 2 of The Traitors Australia, which means I am almost finished with everything up for streaming on the Peacock app and will soon be looking for something else to watch. But the Festivals are this weekend, and Paul will be back to his what-passes-for-normal in his life next week, and we are very behind on a lot of streaming shows (new seasons and new ones to watch), so picking out something to watch shouldn’t be difficult. I also managed to keep avoiding the news for the most part since leaving Thursday, and I kept it going through the weekend. I really don’t want to check back in, do I? I have noticed the increase in the cost of gas–up to over $4 a gallon here in New Orleans. Remind when precisely gas was over four dollars a gallon during the last year of the Biden administration?

Sigh.

The last time I bought gas before the funeral trip, it was $2.59 a gallon and I was irritated with myself for not filling up the day before. So. Much. Winning.

I feel a bit weird this morning–not unwell, but not well, either. I suspect it has to do with the weather being different down here than it was over in Alabama, and my sinuses are having to get used to our heavier air again here. I slept well last night, too. It was a nice, relaxing day overall, in which I did some spot cleaning and some picking up around here, and of course I had things delivered. I have to swing by the post office for the mail on the way home, and I will swing past the grocery store on my way back to the house. I need to make a list–I don’t think I need too much, actually–and I do have a few things to do when I get home tonight. I need to also check my to-do list, and add some things to it. It’s becoming more and more clear to me that I can’t trust my short-term memory anymore. I think I’m going to start watching an episode of Jeopardy every night, because it makes me think and sharpens my brain.

I’ve not even checked my email since last Thursday–there’s a lot of it, so am afraid to look, but I am sure most of it is easily delete-able sales attempts. Or loan offers at loan shark interest rates. I don’t think I’m expecting anything crucial. Wish me luck when I open the inbox later.

I was very pleased that I finished reading Mississippi Blue 42. The only reason it took so long was because of brain fatigue; too tired when I get home from work to read for a while and same with the weekends. I really enjoyed it, and listening to the first half or more certainly made it easier for me to get back into reading the physical copy, which was marvelous. Eli Cranor is a marvelous writer, and the book inspired a lot of creative thoughts for me…it was also interesting because my uncle, whose funeral I attended, played college and pro ball and was a high school football coach (a successful one) until he retired. We really are such a college football family, it’s wild. I get my love of it from my family; and it’s always been so much a part of my life that I can’t imagine what it’s like not to follow college football. I turned Paul into a fanatic, too. (He was already a big sports fan, so getting him into college football wasn’t terribly hard.)

Season 2 of The Traitors Australia was absolutely amazing, with an enormous twist at the end that I saw coming, but wasn’t sure would deliver. But it DID! Now, all I have is one season of New Zealand before I am done, but I may go back and rewatch the most recent season of the US so I can evaluate and write a newsletter about.

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

The great statues of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel.

I Miss You

EDITORIAL NOTE: I started writing this Friday morning, but didn’t finish it until this morning.

Friday in Alabama!

Yesterday was an okay day for the most part. I got up feeling pretty rested–good Lord, the bed and blankets are so damned comfortable–and departed for work. I was fine at work all day and was able to get a lot done before I left at noon. I went home, packed, cleaned a little bit, and headed out. There was some traffic around Mobile, but it was a relatively easy drive and I was deeply enjoying listening to Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue 42. I stopped at the new Buc-ee’s in Mississippi for gas, and got lunch at Jack’s in Creota, Alabama. I got here about six o’clock, very tired, and hung out with Dad for a while. Today I am driving him over to my aunt’s to help her get things ready at the church for the funeral, before coming back here to get ready myself. I also have to stop somewhere to get the things I forgot to pack (can’t replace my hearing aids charger, so I’ll be going deaf for the service) and I am not sure what the day holds after that. I am waiting for Dad right now to come get me so I can drive him over there. There’s a Walmart here, so I am going to swing by there either this morning or later on today to get some things that I need. Honestly! But everything I forgot was not written down on my packing list, which just goes to show me that the list MUST BE THOROUGH. I woke up several times during the night, but the bed was very comfortable but I think I’ll hit a wall later today, too. I am driving back to New Orleans tomorrow morning, and should be home by the mid/early afternoon.

The funeral service was actually quite lovely, and I met some cousins’ offspring and grandchildren I’d never met before, and saw some other relatives that I see more regularly than, well, I guess never? After the church service we went to the graveside service, which, given it was hot and the sun was out and we were all wearing black dress clothes…well, maybe the preacher might have wanted to consider that before he started talking? But these things—and my relatives—always make me think about church and religion. I’m always so caught off guard by how devoted they are, and how much church is pretty much a routine part of their lives. I’ve always wondered how it felt to believe without doubt, which I’ve never been able to master when I was trying as a teenager. But my sister—who came around eventually-and I weren’t raised in the church, just around it. The beliefs and values of the Church of Christ were installed in us by everyone around us as children, and even when I started going with Mom and my sister when I was in high school, I still wasn’t quite all the way there—even when I was active in the Youth Group, and went three times a week to services and sang the hymns and said amen after every prayer. Religion is really about the fear of death, and the fear of the unknown, I realized at the graveside service, and morbid as it sounds, I don’t think I ever had that powerful fear of death motivating me to believe. I somehow somewhere believed I was going to die young , so it’s quite a jolt sometimes to realize I did grow old.

I have had a lot of close calls, though—but that’s a story for another time.`

I also finished the editing job, too, which turned out to be way more fun than I expected—the material is brilliant—and can’t wait to talk about it more when it’s closer to release. I also worked on my next newsletter last night before going to bed—back to Scotty promo stuff, after all the new subscribers I picked up eulogizing Lauren last weekend—hope they aren’t bored! I’ll probably finish it tonight before bed, revise and edit it Sunday morning, and then send it out. I have chores to do at home, of course; don’t I always? I’ll also have to make a grocery run and order some things to be delivered.

I’m loving my new iPad and its Magic Keyboard, which basically has turned it into a laptop with a touch screen, and I actually like working on it more than my MacBook Air.

SUNDAY

Well, I didn’t quite finish that and get it posted whilst I was out of town, now, did I? I did not. I didn’t sleep great either night in the hotel–I’d forgotten my evening-anxiety-help-me-sleep medications–and so was kind of tired yesterday when I drove down the on-ramp to I-65 South. I made good time, though–a little less than four hours, because I didn’t have to stop anywhere on the way. I was plenty exhausted when I pulled up and parked in front of the house yesterday afternoon. I unloaded the car, ordered lunch to be delivered, and then collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky slept in my lap all afternoon as I watched some more of The Traitors (it was weird not even watching a single episode for several days). But after a little while, my legs were no longer exhausted and tired, so I was able to get up and do the dishes and start the laundry and picking up a bit more around here; I kind of left the place messy. I also have to take inventory and figure out what groceries are needed, so I can either order them for delivery today or stop on the way home from work tomorrow. I have to go uptown to get the mail anyway, so might as well swing by the grocery store, right?

I was greatly enjoying listening to Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue 42, and I am going to finish reading it in hard copy today. The drive down was nice, if I was a bit impatient to get home. There really wasn’t much traffic, and I didn’t even get terribly delayed by the infamous I-10 to I-90 ramp. My creativity also amped up yesterday as I was doing chores and watching videos on Youtube about Alabama–you know the type; “Ten Ghost Towns in Alabama” or “Twenty Cool Things You Didn’t Know About Alabama”–and they were really cool and great and interesting, and yes, gave me some ideas. I wish I had more time to take off from work so I can just go exploring, both here in Louisiana and in Alabama; I’d love to visit Moundville near Tuscaloosa again. My aunt took my sister and I there where we were kids, and the only thing I really remember was my aunt bought me a Davy Crockett raccoon skin cap, complete with the bushy tail. I’d also like to see Poverty Point here in Louisiana.

And I want to get back to writing fiction regularly again. I can get started this week, even with the Festivals coming up this weekend (AIEEEE), an of course Paul will be moving into the hotel on Wednesday night, leaving me home alone with Sparky, who will be lonely and feeling abandoned. I also have to be careful to ensure I don’t get worn out, and must reserve my energy. We certainly don’t want a repeat of last year, which resulted in me winding up in the hospital. The two things aren’t related, but my brain associates them together, alas–just like I associate Hurricane Season Hustle with being sick because it happened while I was writing the book.

And on that note, I am going to head over to my easy chair to finish reading Elis book, and figure out what to do with the rest of my day. Have a good one, and I will see you again tomorrow in the morning.

Former collegiate wrestler and now fitness influences @fitnesspeach. I do wonder if Meta will hide this image as “adult content” because a bit of cheek is exposed.