Category: television

Sea of Love

Wednesday pay-the-bills day, and I don’t feel terrible this morning. I slept decently, although I am not sleeping all the way through the night anymore, which doesn’t please me, although I am not tired nor is it difficult to get out of bed in the morning. And usually about halfway through my first cup of coffee any and all fog is lifted. Yesterday was a decent day, really. I didn’t get a lot of writing done, but I did write some. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to write anything these days, but here’s hoping that changes really soon. I swung by the post office last night and PT to pay my bill, then was going to buy gas at the Shell on Magazine and Jackson, but the pump’s card reader wasn’t working, so I got back in the car and left, more than slightly irritated. I mean, why would you not repair the convenient way for people to purchase from you?

I did some chores when I got home around writing and being excited because my new shoes arrived! I got a pair of solid black Oxfords, and another pair of black-and-white Oxfords, only in the saddle shoe style, which I love. I am going to wear them to work today–the black-and-white ones, I mean. Oxfords are incredibly comfortable, and are my favorite shoes besides slippers and sneakers (we always called them ‘gym shoes’ when I was a kid, because that was what they were; you wore them for gym). I am going to wear the black-and-white ones to work today to break them in for Saints and Sinners.

I guess it isn’t entirely true that I didn’t write much yesterday. For a few weeks or so now I’ve been trying to write a blog entry about the Incident from Left Coast Crime in 2021. I finally got an entire first draft done, had a friend read it for potentially offensive language or attitudes–it’s about racism and homophobia I personally experienced, and if you’re going huh how did he experience racism when he’s white–well, it makes for an interesting and rather eye-opening story about white privilege and straight privilege and why it’s so important for conferences–of any kind, really–needs to do some work about making their event a safe space for everyone attending. I didn’t report the incident to the conference because it really wasn’t their fault, and Stan and Lucinda are lovely people, which is yet another reason I’ve been hesitant about writing about it. I’m pretty much finished with it now, I am just going to reread it one more time before taking it to the public. It was such a weird thing, and I’ve still not fully processed it yet.

But then again, weird things always seem to happen to me, don’t they?

So much so that I am never sure if something is weird or normal. It’s not fun.

As April slowly closes in and March continues to slip through my fingers, I am still not terribly panicked about deadlines and so forth, which is odd for me. I do need to get back to the writing grindstone sooner rather than later, and I wish I could get it out of my head that I need to finish this short story before looking seriously into finishing the book (I came up with probably the funniest drag queen name ever for one of the pageant contestants–Trudy Tradwife).

But it’s about time for me to head into the spice mines, so have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

The Happy Organ

I cannot believe today’s title was actually a hit song in 1959. I mean, the jokes here simply write themselves.

Monday morning and back to the office morning blog. It was a curiously relaxing weekend, but my energy levels were up and down the whole time. Last night, of course, when I needed to go to sleep? After two nights of falling asleep in my chair, here I was, having trouble falling asleep. I think it’ll be okay for tonight, though, since I have PT after work. It rained off and on yesterday for most of the day, and the temperature dropped overnight. Absolutely no huzzahs on that front, for sure. I do think not going to do PT last Monday messed up my week significantly, so I definitely have to go tonight. I was very happy to finish reading my book, too. It had been so long since I was able to commit to a book, it was nice to get drawn into one again, even if it did take me over a week to finish. I don’t read as fast as I used to, nor do I write as much or as fast as I used to. This is going to have to be overcome soon enough, but that’s okay. I think my full-fledged deadline panic mode will probably start kicking into gear again at some point this week.

We finished season one of The Tourist last night, and dipped into season two–which looks to be just as good as the first. I don’t know how long this show will be able to keep going on the basic premise that he has no memory of who or what he was before waking up in the hospital in the first episode of season one, and Jamie Dornan is wonderful in the lead role, menacing when called for, but delightfully funny at others. And Danielle Macdonald, who has been delightful in everything I’ve seen her in (including Dumplin’), is doing some really good work as Helen. Highly recommended, even though Dornan isn’t shirtless nearly enough. Dornan should be shirtless at least once per episode. Think of it as “fan service.”

I’ve managed to gain back all the weight I’ve lost since the soft food diet began after Labor Day. This doesn’t please me, to say the least. It’s actually disappointing. But if I am barbecuing burgers on the weekends and/or ordering pizza…it’s not really a surprise. I’ve also gotten my taste for hamburgers back, which is kind of nice. The new dentures have altered my tastes somewhat, but they seem to be shifting back at last, which is nice. Last year was a bit of a slog, wasn’t it? It’s not a surprise that it’s taken me a while to recover from everything–from the arm injury to the dental surgery to the arm surgery to Mom and Scooter dying and this endless war with my insurance company–any one of these things on their own would be leveling; having it all happen within the same year is pretty fucking terrible, frankly. But… I am also a firm believer in having all the bad stuff happen within a certain period of time, because you get so overwhelmed with everything that you really can’t focus on your own misery at any time. But I am hoping that once the PT is done and I can exercise normally again, that I’ll get to the gym at least twice a week.

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

Quiet Village

Sunday morning and Daylight Savings Time begins, which means it’s an hour later than my body thinks it is, and that’s fine. I would imagine that the real brick wall as far as the time change is concerned is going to be hit tomorrow morning when I get up for work. But there are worse things, after all; there are always worse things. But yesterday was a pretty decent day, overall. I got some things done, not nearly enough, and had my ZOOM panel for Murderous March around one thirty my time; ably moderated by Richie Narvaez, it was quite a lot of fun, but I am never sure how I am coming across when it’s ZOOM–no audience reactions to play off–so I will hope that it all went well and the audience enjoyed it as much as I did. I ordered a pizza from U Pizza (I’d been a-hankering for one all week, frankly) for dinner, and spent most of the day finishing reading The Little Wax Doll, rereading other books and stories in progress, before finally settling in to watch a couple of episodes of The Tourist–but I kept falling asleep (from being tired, nothing to do with boredom, because the show is bizarre and twisty and hilarious and kind of like a Coen Brothers movie, so clearly I am loving the show), and finally went to bed around ten. I slept very well, too. As for today, there’s still a lot I need to get done, writing wise, and at some point I have to make groceries today, too. The Oscars are tonight, but I’m not terribly interested in them, to be honest.

I also tried watching Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, but shut it off after about fifteen minutes. I love Jason Momoa, but not THAT much.

I did find the missing printer ink cartridges, by the way. I guess I was looking right at it all along and not seeing it. Heavy sigh.

Sparky is feeling rambunctious this morning, and has already gashed my right index finger with one of his talons. But this helped remind me that I took his hanging toy down yesterday so it wasn’t on camera, and didn’t put it back up. Problem solved, and now he’s jumping at it, and all’s well in the Lost Apartment. Big Kitten Energy. He’s lucky he’s so sweet and adorable, honestly.

But it looks to be a beautiful day outside already, which is great, and hopefully this good mood will last as long as my energy does. I’d like to be able to get a lot done today, and get prepared for the week. A friend will be in town this weekend, which is very exciting as I’ve not seen her in a very long time, which will be so delightful. I do miss my friends.

This week the news broke that Carol Gelderman had died. Carol, a writer and professor at UNO, was an absolute delight. I didn’t know her very well, but she was a frequent panelist at the Tennessee Williams Festival, and so I’d run into her quite a lot. Every time, she would give me a dazzling smile, shove her right hand at me and say “Hi, I’m Carol Gelderman” and I would smile and say “Lovely to see you again, Carol” and she’d make a wonderful “pshaw” noise and say, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” and give me a big hug, and we’d laugh and laugh. She also always had a flask in her purse. Check out her biography of Mary McCarthy sometime. It’s very sad that I’ll never laugh with her at a Festival party again. RIP, Carol, and thanks for the great memories.

You’ll probably not recognize me should there be an afterlife, either, Carol, and I hope that is the case.

And on that sad note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Hope your Sunday is lovely, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. One never does know, you know.

Mr. Blue

Saturday morning blog, after a rather dreary and gloomy Friday. It clearly rained overnight, as everything outside is wet. I was exhausted yesterday after I was finished with PT and daytime work duties; by the time I ran my errands I was exhausted. I got a delivery from Sam’s last evening too, which had to be lugged into the apartment. I was dozing off in my chair a lot last night while watching documentaries about Spanish history, the Moors in Iberia, and the line of regnant kings and queens. It’s an interesting subject, to be sure; the physical and mental exhaustion did it, not the lack of interest or boredom. I even went to bed early and slept like a stone (I’ve always found that cliché odd; stones aren’t sentient so they don’t sleep).

I have an on-line panel today at 1:30 for Murderous March, an event put together by Upper Hudson Sisters in Crime, so I do hope if you have time, you’ll join us; they have panels and things programmed all day so head over to their website and take a look; you can also register there (it’s free!), and it should be a good and entertaining and informative conversation. I’m going to try to get some writing done before and after, as well as cleaning the apartment. I also want to do some more reading; I did spend some time with Norah Lofts’ The Little Wax Doll, which I am really enjoying. About a hundred pages in the story took a surprising turn; Lofts was rather good at that, if I recall correctly. I’ll definitely talk about Lofts more when I finish the book and write about it.

Tomorrow I’ll go out and make groceries, probably in the morning, and today is going to be the day where I make a definitive list for tomorrow, and I also need to check my to-do list to see what I’ve managed and what I’ve not thus far, as well as make one for the weekend. Ugh, I also have to start working on my taxes; a tedious chore to be sure, but one that needs doing. I’ll put that on the list for next weekend. I’m also going to try to get some of these pending blog drafts finished this weekend–with me luck, there are quite a few of them–but they either need to be finished at some point, or simply deleted and given up on. (It’s really hard for me to let go of ideas for things.)

But sometimes…sometimes you do have to let things go. Grim as it is to think, I know I am never going to write all the ideas I already have, let alone any new ideas that come to me. I really need to clean out the files–I have so many; ideas that are so old that I don’t even remember having them, and the way things are going I am not entirely sure I’ll even be able to finish writing the things I am currently working on, either. I do need to tackle the rust and grease the gears and unlock my writing drive. Heavy sigh. The malaise is gone, I think; I’m not really sure, to be honest, where it came from in the first place. I’m never sure where it comes from. I think it has to do with my faulty brain chemistry, if I am being honest. Sigh.

And on that dreary note, I am going to have my breakfast preparatory to heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday–I’ll probably be back later.

Kansas City

Friday morning work-at-home blog, in which I am up ridiculously early for a Friday morning thanks to a 7 a.m. PT appointment. What is great about that–for a change–is I’ll be back home around eight-ish and will be very wide awake, which is a great start to the day. I should really not sleep late on weekends, because it alters my body clock and makes Monday morning more difficult than it needs to be. But I’ve had a cup of coffee and am waking up some, which is great, even though I probably won’t finish this before I have to leave this morning. I have a department meeting after I get home, and then of course I have work-at-home duties and chores. Woo-hoo! Definitely living large this morning, aren’t I? So we’ll have to see how the day goes before I do any writing tonight. I’m going to be exhausted from the PT, I suspect. One never knows, does one?

Well, I was right. I didn’t finish before I had to leave for PT and I was even a few minutes late! It definitely woke me up while exhausting me at the same time, which happens. I am very tired now, but wide awake. I’ll probably feel some serious fatigue later, too. AH, well, at least I got it out of the way.

This week we had a site visit from one of our major funders, and I was told we all needed to dress up for the three days, so I did. (NARRATOR VOICE: I was one of the few who did all three days.) It was kind of fun to wear nice clothes and shoes for a change, but yesterday reminded me how much I hate my black slip-on dress shoes, so I decided then and there I was going to throw them away at last when I got home and order a new pair, preferable Oxfords, all black. I did find those shoes, and ordered them, but then for the hell of it I looked for what I’ve not been able to find for years, black and white Oxfords that look like classic saddle shoes. I had a pair in college and I loved those shoes. Well, yesterday I managed to find a pair, so I ordered them immediately. With any luck, they will make their debut at Saints and Sinners this year. I never really get to dress up very often, and so fancier shoes don’t get worn very often. (Some pairs I’ve had for well over a decade and maybe have worn five or six times, if that.) Dressing up also made me realize almost everything I own that is dressy is mostly red or black. I should probably go through the clothes in the closet since I have no idea what is even in there anymore.

I watched the season finale of Feud last night, and didn’t feel much about it; the performances were fantastic, as always, but I don’t like the fiction that Babe Paley regretted cutting him out of her life and even talked to the other women about forgiving him. She most definitely did not have second thoughts, and having her telling her husband and her friends all this stuff about how much she missed him and how she wanted to forgive him and talked to the other women about being kinder? This whole fantasy episode where (SPOILER) they are together again after death, happily spending eternity together? Bitch, please. It softens her character, certainly, which is audience-service, but it’s really a betrayal of who she was and how betrayed and hurt she felt. I would have much preferred that the others tried to convince her to forgive him and she wouldn’t. Maybe not the character arc Naomi Watts would prefer, but it would have been more poignant–answered prayers, indeed.

And on that note, it’s time for my meeting so I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Friday and who knows? I may be back later.

Stagger Lee

Thursday last morning in the office this week blog. I get to go in a little later because I have to stay until five tonight; and of course tomorrow morning I have PT at the ungodly hour of seven a.m. Gah. But it’s okay, really. I slept super well last night–probably the best night’s sleep of the week–and I finally got my keyboard for the iPad yesterday: huzzah! It works beautifully, too…which is the last excuse I had for not getting any writing done (or as much as I would like). Now I have a functional laptop and a functional iPad for writing anywhere in the house, which is kind of fun. I can get my iPad in the morning and write in bed if I want, or I can take the laptop up there, or…so many plethoras of options, and NO MORE EXCUSES.

Oh, I’ll still make excuses, of course, to get out of doing the day’s writing. And I did do some yesterday–I wrote about seven hundred or so words on “Passenger to Franklin” (an Agatha Christie title homage that really pleases me far more than it probably should)–but very little of anything else other than watching Part II of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion (Kyle Richards remains a disgusting piece of shit bitch who doesn’t need to be on my television screen anymore). I then spent the rest of the evening watching the news (or clips from the news) and despairing further about the future of the country and grateful again that I am old. It’s about the only benefit to being old, really, and not having children: the future isn’t really my problem, but at the same time, I also don’t want the adults of the future to have to deal with a destroyed and/or increasingly hostile and damaged planet, either, because I am not a monster. Sometimes I think I worry about the future more than people who actually do have kids, or are young.

I watched a really interesting conversation between Rachel Maddow and Nicolle Wallace last night–and they were both right: the Republican Party of today wants to eliminate our democracy and set up an authoritarian state where they are always in charge and they can get rid of everyone they don’t like. Sound familiar? See Berlin, 1933. It’s scary to contemplate, and even scarier to realize The Handmaid’s Tale was actually very prescient. I became worried about authoritarianism coming to the US during the Reagan years and what followed, when the Republican party became convinced that they had a divine right and mandate to always be in power. As I watched people get subsumed by Fox Propaganda in the 1990s (when the character assassination of Hilary Clinton truly began), I saw it for what it was: definitely not a news organization, and it’s partisan nature had everything to do with the rollback on rules about what is and isn’t news…during the Reagan administration. It’s astonishing how little people think about the recent past, or even try to put the present in the context of the recent past.

Let alone thinking about the older history, which no one knows1. Then again, I am from a part of the country that proudly claims hatred and bigotry as their heritage, so maybe knowing history might not help as much as I would like to believe.

Heavy heaving sigh.

Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.

I’m doing a panel for a Sisters in Crime chapter on-line event this weekend, do tune in to any or all of the antics this weekend. It’s called Murderous March, and it’s being put on by the Upper Hudson Sisters chapter, and you can register to view the panels here. My panel is at 2:30 eastern, it’s called “It Was a Dark and Stormy Night,” and is being moderated by the wonderful Richie Narvaez. My co-panelists are the amazing Carol Pouliot, Edwin Hill, Tina Bellegarde, and M. E. Browning. It should be a pretty good time, I think.

And on that note, I think I’ll head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

Sleep Walk

Monday morning and back to the office afternoon a really lovely weekend, which wasn’t nearly long enough to satisfy anyone, really. I am wide awake, which is lovely, and I thought I wasn’t sleeping well last night–but this morning I feel rested and fine. Odd, right?

I really need to buckle down and start writing. I started three short stories ideas yesterday (“Passenger to Franklin”, “The Adventure of the Kaiser’s Spy1,” and “The Haunted Bridge,” for specifics) and I reviewed some of what I have already written on the next book, which was interrupted by the surgery. It’s now extended deadline is April 1, so yes, I need to get cracking. I did get a lot of work on the apartment done this weekend, and I was correct that I had ordered the wrong smart keyboard folio for my iPad, and Apple no longer makes them for mine because it’s too old. They recommended Amazon or eBay; I found one on eBay and ordered it so it will come later this week, which is terrific. Once I got home from refunding and returning that magic keyboard, I decided to go ahead and order two things from the Apple store to be delivered–an external wireless keyboard for my desktop, that is wider than the basic one and has the number pad, too, and a super storage flash drive that will also connect to my phone and iPad…and that resulted in an insane Kafka-like experience. The delivery was supposed to come between 3 and 5; their website showed that “Orrin” picked up my delivery at 4:46, and about half an hour later it was marked “out for delivery”–and the stuff can’t just be dropped off; it has to be handed to a person so you have to be available to go meet the delivery when it arrives. The website never updated, and the delivery never came. I finally connected with Apple Support on my phone, which was insane. Their records showed the driver had never picked it up–and it couldn’t be rescheduled for delivery today, all they could do was cancel it and refund the money. I don’t know if the “support person” I was communicating with was a real person or not, or if it was AI. Whoever it was, either they were AI, or English wasn’t their first language. I still don’t understand why they couldn’t just reschedule the delivery till today, but here we are, you know?

Thanks anyway, Apple. I have since decided that it was frivolous to buy those two items, so thank you for fucking this up and saving me quite a bit of money.

I did spend some time working on the apartment and it’s starting to look better. Hilariously, all the changes I made in the reorganization (the drawers, shelves in the kitchen, etc.) have already been forgotten so I have to go looking for things now–right now I can’t find where I put the printer ink–but that’s okay. I guess I am gaslighting myself!

I did spend some time this weekend reading Norah Lofts’ The Little Wax Doll, which I remember reading in junior high but as I read it, it feels very new to me. I don’t remember anything about it; maybe I never read it in the first place but had a copy which I started to read but never finished? Regardless, I am definitely enjoying it. It’s slow-burn horror, which is starting to slowly ratchet up (it’s one of those “rural communities that seem perfect but always have a dark secret” stories). I like Lofts’ writing style, which was more common in the mid-twentieth century work–she has a point of view character, Miss Mayfield, but her third person is removed; like a cross between an omniscient narrator and tight pov. It has a very Gothic feel to it that I really like, and I am looking forward to finishing it at some point.

We also started watching an Australian show, The Tourist, starring the always fun to watch Jamie Dornan (sigh) as a man who is in a car accident and gets amnesia, but he has to figure out who he is because a lot of people are trying to kill him. We’re two episodes into the first season (and there are two seasons thus far) so I am guessing he doesn’t find out for quite some time….

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Monday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; one never can be sure.

  1. Yes, this is a Sherlock in 1916 New Orleans stories. ↩︎

Come Softly to Me

Sunday morning and as predicted, I didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I wanted to, but it was mostly about time more than anything else. I picked up the mail and stopped by Fresh Market, but then once I got home…well, there were chores still to be done (still have some more to do this morning) and I never did get around to writing anything besides blog entries yesterday, like a very bad Gregalicious. Today I have no choice, I have to write today…and I also have to drive out to the Apple Store in Metairie, and make groceries, both of which will be tiring. (I knew I’d regret putting that chore off until today, but at least it’s sunny out today; I think it’s going to be a rather lovely day out there.)

Sparky is always a problem for sitting at the computer as he always wants to sit in my chair–he will hang out and be obnoxious (right now he’s sprawled across the desk, his flicking tail brushing the keyboard as he knocks other things off…) and then jump into the chair the minute I get up for more coffee or anything, really. Heavy sigh, the joys of Big Spoiled Kitten Energy.

I did manage to watch Christopher and His Kind yesterday, which is Isherwood’s memoir about his life in Berlin during the rise of the Nazis, and it much more explicit than Isherwood’s earlier fictions about Berlin. During that “Staged Right” about Cabaret I watched the other night, he wrote it in reaction to the movie, to leave the record straight (as it were) about himself and his life; he hated that Cabaret made Brian/Christopher into a bisexual and that Sally was played by Liza Minnelli, when the actual Sally was marginally talented at best. It was an interesting film, but Christopher himself really came across as a bit of an asshole. There was also a lot of explicit sex, and there’s no question in watching this film about what his sexuality was, for sure. Matt Smith is simply stunningly beautiful, and Alexander Draymon as Caspar is just too beautiful for words. The two stories (Cabaret and Christopher and His Kind) are similar to each other, but I’m not really sure if a watcher didn’t know that both came from the same source, those similarities are simply base facts the story grew out of, and you might not even recognize them as the same story. I may need to revisit the books sometime when I have more time…as I recognize that a lot of the revisiting of fiction I talk about is probably never going to happen. But as always, I find rereading something as an easy way to shake off the not-reading mode I’ve been in for so long. We also watched the new BBC adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Murder is Easy yesterday, which we quite enjoyed…although I am waiting for the racists to complain since they cast a Black man in the lead.

So I started rereading Norah Lofts’ The Little Wax Doll yesterday, of which I remember very little of my original read back in junior high school (I read her novels about queens and royal women before moving on to her other novels, which was very definitely an eclectic mix), and find myself enjoying it a lot more than I did when I was twelve–I did enjoy it, but I am certainly seeing it differently some fifty years later. As a kid, I just read Miss Mayfield as a lonely spinster who spent most of her life working in Africa in her colonial “white savior” role with her best friend, who hopes to save enough money to buy a little place she and her “best friend” could retired to; now it’s screaming lesbians at me. The book was originally published in 1960, and of course there are the queer deniers who like to think we never existed in the world before Stonewall. The phenomenon of spinsters sharing a home was just a fact of life, and the British never really inquired much further than that–the British cold politeness.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. There’s a lot to get done today and I am feeling like I will be able to make some significant progress today. Wish me luck, and I may be back later. Happy Sunday, Constant Reader!

Venus

Saturday.

Yesterday was a good day, productive both for day job business and chores and things around the apartment. My PT, as noted yesterday, didn’t seem as difficult as it had the last few times, which was awesome, and like I said, I got shit done yesterday. I started rearranging and reorganizing and making the kitchen more functional (which also required me to throw out a bunch of shit I was just hoarding, really), which is long overdue. I need to work on that some more today before I run errands. I had hoped to not have to leave the house either day of this weekend, but I decided yesterday to postpone the Apple Store trip until Sunday morning–and Paul ordered some things that require me to go by the post office, which means I am going to make a stop at the Fresh Market on the way home from the postal service. We watched this week’s Abbott Elementary, which is terrific, and then we finished True Detective: Night Country (I am guessing that all the men that hated this season? Misogyny, period. How dare a crime show center women? How dare a crime show be run and written by a woman? I enjoyed it, thought it was very well shot, and so they didn’t tie up every loose end? Ryan Murphy never does, either, and studios keep throwing hundreds of millions of dollars at him. And this season engaged me so much I am curious about rewatching season one and watching the other two, as well).

I also listened to the Bad Gays podcast on James Buchanan (shout out to myself for my story “The Dreadful Scott Decision,” which was in The Faking of the President anthology and centered on Buchanan and his “mysterious” sexuality), which I greatly enjoyed.

I feel good this morning. There’s a little bit of fatigue, but it’s not terrible in the least. (It always hits on the second day with full force, so tomorrow will be a challenge.) I want to do some writing to day (actually, need to) and of course I need to keep working on the apartment, and I have some things to assemble that I’ve order. I also want to read more in my book, and possibly watch some classic gay cinema later on today. I don’t know what Paul will be doing today, but I suspect he’ll go to the office and I won’t see him for most of it. I want to watch Christopher and His Kind first, and of course need to finish my rewatch of Saltburn so I can finally finish my entry on it. (Interesting how I’ve recently become obsessed with openly gay writers of the mid-twentieth century, isn’t it?) I’m still enjoying Feud, but it feels like it’s getting repetitive and is being too drawn out; like four episodes might have been sufficient instead of the planned eight.

All right, it’s a bit brief but I really need to get back to work around here this morning, so more coffee, perhaps a bit of breakfast, and a brief one-hour repair to my chair to read for a bit. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will probably be back a little later.

Lonely Boy

Friday work at home day blog, in which I have PT in a little while and all kinds of things on the agenda to get done. I was productive last night, chore wise, and while I still have some chores to do, I am further ahead than I usually am when I wake up on Friday morning. The weather turned cold yesterday afternoon, and I came straight home. Sparky was feeling needy when I got home, so I had to spend some time cuddling and playing with him (he managed to get the hanging mouse toy off it’s string…but this morning he is playing with the string, and the mouse is nowhere to be found). I watched some news–always a downer–and then the Staged Right Youtube channel’s history of Ethel Merman’s career; from which my primary takeaway was Helen Lawson in Valley of the Dolls was so clearly based on Ethel that I can’t believe she didn’t sue…and it made me want to reread the book again. There was a downpour that started right before i went to bed–and it was even colder when I slipped under the covers. Although a quick check tells me it’s 58 outside…sigh.

But I am awake. My arm feels a bit fatigued, but that’s okay, I just need to monitor myself more at PT and at the gym. I am definitely mentioning it this morning, though–even if it makes me feel like a whiner. This is my arm, that had a serious injury and a major surgery, so I need to get past that kind of self-defeating mentality and understand that they need to know if it’s been tired, hurting, fatigued, etc. If I don’t tell them what I am feeling accurately because I want to please them (a problem my entire life, which has created more issues than its resolved, frankly), this could be bad for my arm.

It’s funny, because the other day I was emailing a friend who’d said something kind to me, and one thing I said in response was Oh, good. I always worry that I am a pest or am too much. He replied that he toned himself down sometimes, too, for the same reason: being too much. After I got his response, I started thinking about it, worrying that phrase and that feeling that both of us, gay men in their sixties, have to tone ourselves down because people think we’re “too much”, and parsed it some more during Ethel Merman’s career history and some other Youtube videos last night. Too much. How many times have I been told I am “too much,” that I’m not “masculine” enough1, that I need to change who I was and how other people saw me (narrator voice: you cannot control other people’s perceptions of you. All you can do is hope for the best) and that has impacted how I feel about people and how I act and behave, and how much of myself I reveal and share with them. Sigh. Keep unpacking that shit, Gregalicious, and remember, you are who you are and never let anyone dim your bright queer light.

And remember–no one ever tells a straight man he’s “too much”–even when they sexually assault women, so…maybe fuck all the way off?

All right, I am now home from PT. The sun has come out, but it’s supposed to rain all day and most of the weekend. I’ve decided to wait until Sunday morning to go to the Apple Store in Metairie. I don’t really want to deal with evening traffic to get there and back–traffic back into the city is always a nightmare around that time–and they open later, so I can get up later and go later and not have to worry about traffic and so forth. PT was a bit harder this morning, but some things were easier. I am going to make a to-do list for the weekend, as well as a list of all chores I want/need to get done this weekend, and figure out some other things.

And on that note–several hours later, my bad–I am heading BACK into the spice mines. Have a great Friday!

  1. I am writing another essay–which I hopefully will finish someday–about this very thing; the strait-jacket of toxic masculinity I was raised with and conditioned by education, school, and culture to think and believe was the only “normal” way to be a man. It’s called “Are You Man Enough.” ↩︎