Category: the apartment

Sea Cruise

Work at home Friday, and here’s hoping for a great day, and even greater three day weekend. I will inevitably wake up on Tuesday morning, asking myself as I swill my morning coffee how did I waste three whole days? When you’re a Gregalicious, it’s ridiculously easy, you can trust me on that. I slept really well last night, which is great. I also slept in an extra hour and a half this morning, and so looking forward to finishing waking up over my coffee and see where the day leads. I have a work meeting this morning, and all kinds of things to get done for the job today. I also have all kinds of things I want to get done this weekend, so I guess we’ll see how productive I actually am. We shall certainly see. I’d like to finish my reread of Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes, and I am trying to decide what to read next. I’ve got the new Stephen King short story collection and a new queer horror anthology should be arriving at some point. I think my next read is going to be either Kellye Garrett, Lori Roy, or Angie Kim, but we’ll have to see what strikes my fancy when it’s time to start reading.

Paul was late getting home last night, so I spent most of the evening trying to get chores done; I did get the laundry done and I have another sink full of dishes to get taken care of, and I would really like this weekend to be utilized trying to get the apartment into some kind of decent shape. I may need to change the arrangement of the work space, too–last night I was sitting here and all I could think about was how closed in and claustrophobic I feel the way it is now; I thought this would make it better, but I was incorrect and I am not even sure what I was thinking, either. I guess I can just blame it on fog brain and depression or something, because I was clearly not in my right mind–and frankly, realizing this made me feel like myself again, which was unexpected yet lovely at the same time. Maybe I am right and it’s all cleared out of my brain and my chemistry up there is working properly again. One never knows, does one?

Louisiana’s descent into Gilead took a few extra steps this week, as our disgusting theocratic legislature passed laws making morning after pills and other abortion medications controlled substances. I’m not exactly sure precisely how long it will take a woman needing one to drive and get one–if Florida’s ballot initiative enshrines abortion into their constitution, not terribly far–but they’ve also passed bathroom laws to punish transpeople for needing to use a public restroom; Louisiana has learned nothing from the lessons of the civil rights movement (or losing the Civil War–by the way, they are putting some Confederate statues back up in some parishes, too). I am excited because Helena Moreno, who is on the city council, is running for mayor and she is all about women’s rights and queer equality. So, will New Orleans continue to hold out against the repressive government up I-10 in Baton Rouge, or will Lawless Landry try to come for the city? MY guess is he will try to come for the city; it’s never gone well for Louisiana before but Republicans never learn, they just stubbornly wait and try again. There’s going to be a massive brain drain, too–already there’s a shortage of OB/GYNs, and our infant mortality rate was already high. But never ever expect a Christian or a Republican to ever think anything through, because they never do and they don’t care about future repercussions from their bad policy.

It’s going to be interesting continuing to write the Scotty series while we have a governor and legislature trying to turn the state into a reactionary conservative theocracy…thanks again, corrupt Supreme Court; and thanks again to all third party votes from 2016. We tried to tell you it was about the Supreme Court, but no. So miss me with your third party bullshit this time around, too. And thanks again to Susan Sarandon, for all your work to ensure Democrats didn’t get elected to the White House in 2000 or 2016–the blood from this court’s decisions is on the hands of everyone who voted third party in both of those elections…which is how Alito, Roberts, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and Gorsuch are up there stripping our rights away from us–so miss me with your “I’m too progressive to vote Democrat but I’m an ally to marginalized people!” No, you’re not, and I hope your moral purity sustains you if we lose this election–and it is as bad as Project 2025 spells out in precise detail. An ally to marginalized communities would never throw their vote away as a protest–that ability comes from your fucking SMUG white privilege. In fact, that is the very definition of egomaniacal selfishness. How clear will your conscience be when the deporting starts, or if they round up queer people? Make a sign and beat your breast on social media? Fuck all the way off, and I hope you enjoy every minute of hell when you get there.

Definitely feeling a touch feisty this morning, don’t you think?

It was also very fun watching the LSU baseball game last night, as they defeated South Carolina to make it to the SEC semifinals last night 11-10. They’ve now beaten three top ten teams in a row in the tournament, setting them up very nicely for a post-season run as they try to make it two national championships in a row. I love the college baseball post-season, but I think I got really spoiled last year by that exciting title run LSU made and accomplished–and I know that jello-shot bar is hoping the Tigers make it back to Omaha this year.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and start the dishes in the sink and laundering the bed linens. Have a great Friday, I may be back later as I am behind on posts, and if not, I will see you tomorrow morning!

It Was I

Thursday and my last day in the office for this week, and then it’s a three day weekend after I finish work tomorrow. I am looking forward to the rest, frankly, and a chance to get caught up on things. I started feeling better about my writing yesterday–I always forget how not writing always impacts me psychologically, even if the writing is poor. When I don’t write, I start doubting myself about everything and that makes me procrastinate more which makes me doubt myself more, and you see how the mental spiral goes. But I paid all the bills yesterday and made groceries on the way home from work. I have to get the mail today, and have to swing by another store to make some more groceries that they didn’t have at the place I went last night (unusual, it’s usually a better store than where I regularly go). We are also going to Costco at some point this weekend, too, and I definitely need to get that list made. Tonight when I get home I need to put the dishes away and fold the laundry. So much excitement, right? I need to make a to-do list for the weekend, so I don’t forget all the things I need to get done this weekend. What would be lovely would be to get stuff done over the weekend and take Memorial Day itself as a “do-little-to-nothing” type day. I think we’re going to watch Dune Part 2 this weekend, and probably finish Euphoria. We started the second season last night and it definitely opened with a bang. I’m really enjoying this show a lot, and Zendaya kills it as Rue.

And this weekend I am going to kick it into gear and start trying to finish this y/a novel. I need to figure some things out with it first, but I definitely want to get back to writing it and making it into a novel from a novella. I think that sense of accomplishment will carry me through the rest of the year with writing, to be honest. I have two short stories I want to write for submission calls, one story I need to edit and revise to get it into one that’s due at the end of the month, and I need to finish revising these other two stories that are in progress and get the collection finished once and for all.

It’s kind of nice to feel excited about writing again, even if I haven’t actually done any in a while. I just hope this enthusiasm carries me through into the weekend…but then again, one never knows, does one? It is so weird that I feel so much more energetic and rested the further in the week we go, isn’t it? I don’t know why this has been the case, but it has been ever since I changed my medications. I hope to make it through the day and through my errands with the ability to still get some things done after I get home…but I also don’t have to get up early tomorrow, either. Yay!

And at least I am feeling optimistic again, you know? I don’t feel like my career is over or that the well has run dry; I just had to take some time away and now everything is a little rusty, and I need to retrain myself to focus again and lose myself in the writing.

An old man can hope, can’t he?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday–and I may be back later; one never really knows with me.

Manhattan Spiritual

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills blog, and woo=hoo! Isn’t it nice and exciting to be halfway through the work week? I feel rested and relaxed this morning as I sit here swilling coffee and reminding Sparky he doesn’t need more treats. (He really loves treats.) The sky is blue and the sun is already up, which is great. I really hate getting up in the dark, you know? Getting up when it’s already daylight–even if it’s not quite as light as it is later on–is so much better; I don’t feel like the night is being interrupted.

I ran some errands last night after work, mostly picking up the mail (got my copy of the new Ann Hood, yay!) and some other stuff. Tonight I have to make groceries on my way home, and I need to order some more things on-line, too. I also reflected some on the way I’ve been feeling about writing lately, and realized I’m just going through yet another prolonged malaise, which always makes me doubt myself and wonder if I should even bother continuing with it, while also contemplating taking some time off from it…and then remembering I have taken some time off from writing. Maybe I am just in a better mood this morning, or maybe I am finally rested enough to move forward from hereon out? Who knows? Writing hasn’t been easy for quite a while now, but I need to stop dogging myself about first drafts not being perfect because they never are. I think I am starting to get focused on what I want to write next…but I do need to get these short stories out of the way first and foremost, and I do need to get some of these other projects finished and out of the way. I also need to remember that music is the best thing for writing; I need background noise and music has always worked to put me into the zone. So…maybe put on my headphones and play some music the next time I am trying to write something?

I started listening to the new Taylor Swift album, The Tortured Poets Department, in the car yesterday and I am enjoying it. She really is quite the recording artist, and she also collaborates a lot with other amazing artists, too.

It’s so weird how I feel better rested and relaxed the deeper I get into the week, isn’t it? It used to be the other way around; I always started the week off great and then descended into exhaustion until by the time I got home on Thursdays I was so bleary-eyed that all I could do was collapse into the couch. But…there are certainly worse things, an I shouldn’t question it other than leaning into it and enjoying the ride. Maybe after I make groceries tonight I’ll be able to get some writing done. Maybe even some reading. I did do chores last night; I’ll need to empty the dishwasher tonight and finish the laundry, but it’s nice to try to spend some time at least catching up on mess or clutter or life debris; whatever you want to call that. I also spent some time yesterday catching up on the Noah Presgrove murder; again, the darkness in rural small towns is really something. I found a Reddit where someone had put together a time-line of the weekend, which helped clear some things up for me, but the conflicting stories is perhaps the most interesting thing to me. I don’t know if he was actually murdered or not, but I don’t see how it could have been anything else given his injuries. I also am curious about why the autopsy report took so long? Although I would imagine that area of Oklahoma would probably have to send the remains to a bigger city for a forensic autopsy? And he was buried not long after he died…so why did the autopsy take so long? (I don’t know how long it takes for an actual autopsy to be done, but nine months seems a bit extreme, especially in the case of a mysterious death.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I may be back later; one never knows. Have a great Wednesday!

Goodbye Jimmy Goodbye

Here it is Tuesday, and I am feeling okay this morning–awake and rested, if a little creaky (which is every morning these days)–and my coffee is really tasty this morning, which is lovely. I slept pretty well, other than the occasional sniffing/clawing/biting from Sparky, and I could have easily stayed in bed for another hour or so, but that’s okay. Functionality is perfectly fine.

We watched more Euphoria last night, and I have to say, we are really enjoying it. Nate is a monster, played beautifully (see what I did there?) by Jacob Elordi; but as wild and over-the-top as the show is, it’s also marvelously queer–and also shows the difference between a miserable existence that is completely a lie (Nate’s dad) to Rue’s unabashed, unquestioned bisexuality, and of course there’s a marvelous trans character as well, who is just as developed and three-dimensional and has an interior life as much as the others, which is terrific. Represent, HBO! I’m also a bit surprised that this show hasn’t been targeted by the right–drugs and sex and drinking and teenagers, oh my! But they never came after Gossip Girl either; selective outrage is never consistent, after all.

I did write some last night; it was all garbage, but at least it was something, right? Even as I was typing the words as they came to me, I knew it wasn’t any good. I had the voice completely wrong, and the words, which I’d intended to create a dream-like kind of mood (the way Megan Abbott does, so effortlessly), weren’t good either. It’s just a prologue, and it’s not the actual book I want to write quite yet, but at least it was something–and it was in my mind so much I couldn’t really do much of anything else until I got it out of my system. It’s only about 1500 words or so, and needs to be redone, but I can work on that while I work on these other stories I need to get taken care of. There’s a lot that has to go into this book, which is probably going to wind up being shorter than I had really ever thought about–it kind of needs to be, kind of quick and nasty and dreamy.

Now that I’ve finished Where They Wait (more on that later), I am going to go back to something I’d started before my trip, and then I have some others I’d like to get through relatively quickly; but I do have a three day weekend to look forward to; so hopefully I can get some other reading done, too. I know we are going to Costco this weekend–I need to make a list–and I also need to make groceries, but I’ll probably swing by the grocery store on my way home from work tomorrow since it’s Pay-the-Bills Day. I also want to get a lot of the apartment taken care of, so I can take books to the library on Saturday and I can also drop off the dry cleaning, which will be a lovely start towards making the living room look like a living room and not a fraternity dorm room.

I do continue to keep tabs on the Noah Presgrove case in Oklahoma; his autopsy report was finally released last week (why did it take eight months is another good question), and it’s brutal. I knew it was bad, but Jesus. He literally was beaten to death, and the injuries are horrific. I also became aware of another case yesterday–Tom Brown in Canadian, Texas–which is also weird, is also small town stuff, and Canadian isn’t very far from Comanche, Oklahoma…although I doubt the cases are connected, despite the proximity; poor Tom disappeared on Thanksgiving, and his remains weren’t found for almost two years. Skin Hollandsworth had done an eight-part series on Tom for Texas Monthly, which I will probably read over the course of the weekend. It also occurred to me last night that I have become obsessed with the murders of teenaged boys in rural America lately. But how many cases like this are there, where a teenaged boy (granted, Noah was nineteen, but that still counts) is murdered in a small town where everyone knows everyone, but no one knows who the killer/killers is/are? Come on, now. I’m not buying that for a second.

There’s no corruption quite like small town corruption, is there? That’s also uniquely American, I think, and tells quite a different story than all the “real America/Joe Sixpack” right wing bullshit they try to sell us, where every small town is Mayberry and good American values are still appreciated. Well, in my experience every small town is either Twin Peaks or Peyton Place, and if that defines America….well, we need to rethink that.

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

Endlessly

Monday morning and it’s back to work for one Gregalicious. Memorial Day is this coming weekend, which means a lovely three day weekend for me, which will be lovely, and is even more lovely to contemplate. I didn’t get a lot done this weekend, which is NOT a good thing, but I can live with it. I feel rested and ready to go this morning, which is the most important thing to come out of a weekend in my humble opinion. It’s nice not to beat myself up over taking down time, you know?

I finished reading Where They Wait by Scott Carson, and loved it (more on that later), so I don’t consider the weekend a complete wash. We also started watching Euphoria yesterday. I’m not sure why we never watched in the first place, but damn–I thought Gossip Girl was over the top, but Euphoria is a whole other ball of wax, isn’t it? But I also love the way they tell the story, with Zendaya’s character narrating the story and filling in gaps about the other characters in the story, to give the viewers a better understanding of who they are. But whew–all the drugs and sex and drinking and porn watching and so forth–things are a lot different now than when I was in high school–although I do think this show might just take things to extremes.

It does kind of give me pause, though–my books about teenagers are nothing like this. I’m not even sure I could even write something like this, to be honest. But then again I always tend to come down on the side of innocence when it comes to teenagers…even if I do depict high school as an endless hell for the students. As I am not a high school student, my grandnieces and nephews are very religious so this wouldn’t be them, and I don’t know any high school students to ask, I will simply have to continue wondering. But I am sure that kids with access to money and so forth probably party a lot harder than we did when I was in high school (for the record, I had only had alcohol once before graduation–yeah I was one of those kids; incredibly innocent and even more naive; Dad still regrets letting me skip a grade to this day), and I sort of touched on that with #shedeservedit, but I think my next book with teens will go into more detail.

I didn’t write at all this weekend; the motivation was simply not there, which is actually shameful. It is AMAZING the excuses I can some up with to not write; I’m also beginning to think talking about plans to write instead of talking about having written is perhaps not the ideal way to go. I do feel good this morning; I don’t feel like I slept all that well last night, in all honesty, but somehow I am alert and have energy–that will undoubtedly flag a bit this afternoon before I go home. But I do hold out hope for a good week, as always.

We also tried Manhunt, the Apple series about the hunt for John Wilkes Booth and his accomplices after the Lincoln assassination; the first episode was a bit slow, but I do love Tobias Menzies and we’ll probably go back to it once we’ve finished Euphoria. I’m still not sure what the deal is with the rest of the episodes of After the Flood, but for whatever annoying reason, we only have access to the first two episodes, despite a Britbox subscription. (Note to self: see what all we are subscribed to, and cut the cord on the ones we never watch; in some cases it might be easier and cheaper to simply buy or rent the shows we want to watch.)

As you can tell, this weekend wasn’t much. Not much done, not much accomplished, and I pretty much just laid around the whole weekend, other than running to the grocery store (twice) and picking up the mail twice. I also don’t feel in the least bit sorry about it, either. I know I need to get back to writing and making some breakthroughs on things, which might engage the writing muscles again and get me back to writing, but I am really not feeling all that motivated anymore. I think a lot of it has to do with the overall inability to ever get caught up on the house. Sparky of course is no help whatsoever; he always seems to be wanting attention when I am doing anything, and he’s just too cute to ignore–even when he is attacking me with fangs and claws unsheathed. Especially then, really? But I really need to get back to writing every day, even if it’s nothing more than a couple of hundred words here and there. Every word written brings things closer to being finished, and if I have to work on multiple things at the same time, so be it; I’ve done it before and it worked, so it would work again–at least in theory.

And so on that note I am heading into the spices mines, trying to get everything onto a to-do list, which may help in some ways. I may be back later, you never know; there’s lots of blog drafts that need finishing.

Killer Queen

Ah, my lord the Duke of Buckingham; probably one of the most successful fuckboys in history.

Contemporaries wrote of his physical beauty constantly when he was a young man, and first coming to the attention of his King; and while I’ve certainly never read any biographies of George Villiers, I have always been vaguely aware of him–primarily because of his role in The Three Musketeers, which is, of course, a marvelous fiction. While I have no doubt that George may have become enamored of the French Queen (the Hapsburg Spanish princess Anne of Austria) while in France arranging the marriage of Charles I to the French Bourbon princess Henrietta Maria (which, despite the success of the marriage, was a big mistake in the macro sense; the Stuart penchant in the seventeenth century of marrying Catholic princesses eventually led to their fall and the extinction of their direct line); without reading more into the history of the period, it’s hard to say whether that fiction of Dumas’ was based in rumor or was simply his own creation–but George was definitely a fuckboy, so anything is possible.

It took me until I was a bit older to realize the relationship between my lord Buckingham and his king was a bit more than just “best buddies.”

And even then, it took me a little while longer to recognize that the Buckingham of The Three Musketeers was also the same favorite of King James’. It was his son that was the bosom buddy of Charles II; he also was the cousin of Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine, one of that king’s longest running and most notorious mistresses (I named Chanse’s landlady after her, actually), so there were a lot of noble Villiers entwined with the destiny of the royal house of Stuart during the seventeenth century. Of course, given how language was blurred about Kings and their favorites in the histories I read, it never crossed my mind to read more into them until I was in my thirties (also, reading Cashelmara by Susan Howatch made me realize Edward II’s favorites also shared his bed…and then all the other pieces, about James I and Henri III of France began falling into place, even if their sexuality was determinedly erased from history.

So, when I saw the first preview for Mary and George, I was very excited. A series that actually isn’t afraid to address James Stuart’s actual sexuality, and that of his fuckboy, my lord George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham? Starring Julianne Moore and Nicholas Galitzine? Julianne Moore was clearly relishing playing the hell out of the ambitious let-nothing-get-in-her-way mother?

I was so in.

And in all honesty, I knew Galitzine was becoming a heartthrob/sex symbol, but with blond hair he reminded me too much of Macauley Culkin and I just didn’t really see it.

But as a brunette? Beautiful, and perfectly cast.

See what I mean? Sex on a stick, just like Buckingham’s contemporaries said.

I can see why historians tried so hard to erase the truth about the rise of the Villiers family, from lower nobility to a dukedom; the fact that Mary groomed her gorgeous son to seduce the king as a way to riches and power is not something you encounter frequently in the pages of history; especially in the modern age…but this was very common throughout history with beautiful girls…they were groomed and educated with an eye to seducing a powerful man for money, prestige, and power, and if the man was a king, even better.

Mary and George is pretty historically accurate, too–more so than many of these kinds of series, where things are changed for the sake of story, but the rise of George Villiers is dramatic enough, as well as all the court intrigue behind the scenes, but…the final episode to me was the only failure in the series. Even though I knew how it would all end, I kept thinking they’d come up with some way to make the end more dramatic, but that last episode felt rushed to me, didn’t have enough set-up to work as a finale and it just then kind of….ended. But the show is gorgeously produced; the costumes, the sets, and the acting is all excellent…until the last episode. In that episode, George has already been raised to duke…yet his clothes are the most drab of the entire season other than the first episode, when his preparations to be a fuckboy get underway. George was very famous for his splendid, ornate and opulent style of dress; he was always covered in jewels from head to toe, but for some reason they tried to make him look as drab and unattractive as possible. That certainly wouldn’t have been the case when he visited the Spanish court with the Prince of Wales (excellent casting; he looked just like the paintings of Charles I); it would have undermined English prestige to show up at the court of Philip IV so underdressed.

There’s also frontal male nudity, and lots of gay sex scenes. Buckingham was undoubtedly, at best, in modern terms a bisexual; the best quote of the show about sex partners was “bodies are just bodies”–which both mother and son say any number of times as they bed both genders happily.

I highly recommend it, and would love to see more of these shows.

Heartaches by the Number

Sunday fun-day, and I am up much earlier than I was yesterday. It wasn’t a bad day, but I clearly needed to sleep in. I slept later than expected this morning, too, but here I am, up at just past eight and feeling pretty good. I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday. I did leave the house and get the mail (I got two shirts I’d ordered from Macy’s) and then swung iby the grocery store to get treats for Sparky and for us (they had the Snicker brownie cookies again, which are fucking amazing), and then I came home. I curled up in my chair with Scott Carson’s Where They Wait, which I am enjoying the hell out of, before Paul got up and we finished the first half of Bridgerton, watched The Iron Claw, and then after we watched the gymnastics meet last night, won by Simone Biles (of course), moved on to Hollywood Con Queen, which in interesting, if odd. I plan on spending some more time with the book today, hopefully finishing reading it this morning before getting some writing done today. I’d like to get this second draft of “When I Die” out of my hair, and I also need to reread and possibly revise “The Last To See Him Alive” before I submit it to an anthology. I have been very lackadaisical about my writing now for almost a year, and I need to start taking it seriously again. I think that’s been part of my feeling off for so long–I am not writing much, either and that always has an affect on my over-all well-being.

I also think the overwhelming pile of things I am working on has a lot to do with my feeling at sea and uninspired, to be honest. I do love to write, but as always, I have to make myself do something I love. I also am much easier to distract these days, too–which I do not like–but when I am home working it’s Sparky who distracts me (he’s adorable and sweet, so it’s hard not to give him attention when he wants some), or Paul getting up and wanting to watch something–I will always drop everything to hang out with him, whether I can afford the loss of time or no, sorry/not sorry–but I do need to get some focus. Maybe I should listen to music on my headphones? Music always works, usually; but who knows if the old tricks will continue to work now?

I also need to get caught up on blog entries, too. I still have to finish my posts about Dead Boy Detectives and Mary and George, I’ll have to do one when I finish reading this book, and of course there are any number of others that are dangling in my drafts folder. I also came up with a really good title for another story yesterday, sigh, which I scribbled down in my journal. My creativity is still there, of course, but it needs to be harnessed again so I can take it out for a ride. I also spent alot of time yesterday thinking about something I definitely want to blog about, which was triggered by Marjorie Taylor Greene, the cro magnon congresswoman from Georgia being the white trash piece of shit she was by attacking Jasmine Crockett’s appearance the other day–don’t come for Jasmine unless she calls you, bleached blonde bad built butch body bitch–and the whole “going high” thing. Much as I love Michelle Obama, I have been saying since the of Rush and Fox News that going high doesn’t work when they are going low; they see going high as being weak and they go lower. The only way to defeat them and shut them up is to give their own back to them with a vengeance–I bet the inbred trash will think twice about coming for someone’s looks again. And as someone who has had people going low at him for most of his life, I will not go high. You open that door and I will fucking shred you–and I also will not be shamed by “allies” (always straight white cisgender women, for the record) for giving it back to them. We are literally in a war for the soul and future of this country; going high with these kind of stakes on the line simply does not work, and I am tired of the right saying racist, homophobic, and misogynist bullshit while being told to “go high.” Sorry, Michelle, I love you–and I love you even more for your class and dignity, but I would love to listen to you read Melania for the racist gold-digging filth she is sometime.

The sad truth is you never win while seated on your high horse, and we as a nation simply cannot afford to lose. And they cannot stand on ANY moral high ground while pedophiles like Matt Gaetz and inbreds like Marjorie Greene are serving in the People’s House, period–as well as any traitors, and there are a LOT of those on the Republican side of the aisle right now.

(I’m also enjoying watching all the trash who hated the Chiefs because of Travis and Taylor now worshipping them because of Hairy Butt. Pick a fucking lane.)

And on that note, I am having some breakfast and then reading for a while. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will probably show up again a little later.

Petite Fleur

Saturday and the weekend blooms this morning, huzzah huzzah! Well, I slept super-late for me this morning, not arising until a bit before ten, and I do have to run to the store to pick-up something I forgot yesterday (Sparky’s treats, and he is NOT happy to have had a treat-less 24 hours, believe you me), but other than that, I’ve pretty much decided to spend the day reading and not stressing about anything. I feel like I need a low-energy day, and since today is feeling that way, may as well make it today. I did spend some time yesterday reading my book, which I am really enjoying, and when Paul got home last night we watched the finale of Mary and George, which was kind of a letdown in some ways, and then the next two episodes of Bridgerton, which we are enjoying precisely because it’s just meant to be frothy fun–and that’s not a bad thing, and it’s not easy to do while making it all look easy. I don’t have much desire to read the books, to be honest, and the Regency period has never really interested me much; which is kind of interesting and perhaps something I should explore; but the wretched sons of George III and Queen Charlotte are sublimely uninteresting.

A wonderful thunderstorm woke me around six this morning–that, and a treat-less cat–which was marvelous, and I went right back to sleep. I also didn’t stay up super-late last night (eleven rather than ten), so that doesn’t explain it.

I also read some research for another book I am considering writing (separate from the Noah Presgrove death in Oklahoma one I’ve been talking about) and I think I am beginning to understand how I need to write that book, and how to write myself into it. I’ve also been thinking a lot about some other projects that I would like to get done, and now I need to make a plan and figure out how I am going to get everything done that needs to be done. I’ve already come up with a financial plan for the rest of the year (very little travel, very little spending, and trying to clear some debts), and now I need to just get it together for writing.

I think we will probably finish Bridgerton this weekend, and we also want to watch The Iron Claw. There are some other shows we are thinking about watching, and some that we need to catch up on…I’m still trying to figure out why only the first two episodes of After the Flood are available. We watched the first, but are holding off on the second until the rest are available to watch–and will probably have to go back and watch the first again.

Very exciting, aren’t I?

Louisiana’s “bathroom bill” is currently making its way through our demonic legislature, which is beginning to resist our Christofascist governor. They passed a law this week to display the Ten Commandments in every public school in the state (there will be lawsuits), and are working on legitimizing a voucher system so Louisiana taxpayers can pay to send rich kids to private school while defunding public education here, already deplorably underfunded…which makes me wonder; Louisiana Lottery proceeds were supposedly earmarked for public education–but we never hear that anymore, so where is that money going? For the record, this piece of shit makes Bobby Jindal look like a moderate, and look at the damage Jindal did in eight years….this guy is on track to drive Louisiana right into a drainage sewer canal much faster than Piyush ever dared to dream. Environmental protections stripped to benefit oil and petrochemical corporations? Done. Tax breaks for the wealthy? Done. Attempts to turn Louisiana into a theocracy? Well on its way! Thanks again, Louisiana bigots, for foisting this piece of shit and this sewage legislature on us all.

Jindal went out of office with his career and ambitions basically gone. Here’s hoping Landry’s fall from grace is swifter and even more brutal.

The Tijuana Jail

Ah, Tijuana. I went there several times when I lived in California, and it was always…well, a sloppy messy good time. It’s also where I got my soft wool blankets, the most comfortable bed linens I’ve ever owned. The first one finally fell apart about six years ago, and the second one is starting to fray and unravel. The first was purchased in 1987 and lasted over thirty years; the second was bought in 1997 and is going on twenty-seven. I’ve looked for something similar on-line but so far it’s been to no avail. Sigh. I dread the day when the newer one finally starts to completely unravel.

But I never spent any time in the Tijuana jail, thank the Lord. That’s probably one of my biggest anxieties about foreign travel–winding up in jail through some unintentional mistake. Probably PTSD from watching Midnight Express in the theater at twenty and going in blind with no clue as to what it was about other than I thought the lead actor was kind of attractive. There were a lot of those “out of their element Americans in danger somewhere” movies in the 1970s, when I think back, like how disaster movies also proliferated in that decade.

Last night we had some major weather–bad thunderstorms with eighty mile-per-hour winds. It was in the middle of the downpour and thunder that I went to bed, and as always when it’s storming, I went into a very deep and restful sleep almost immediately. I do feel very good this morning, which is very nice. I feel very rested this morning, too, and am looking forward to getting to work today. I also have errands to run later on today, hopefully around the storms forecast for today. It’s supposed to be worse in the evening that the first blast this afternoon, so we shall see. It’s also nice to wake up on Friday morning and have most of the chores finished already. I don’t have to clean the kitchen, for example, or do any dishes or catch up on laundry or anything like that, which is great. I’d like to do some writing later, definitely some filing, and some reading, too. I’d love to finish the Scott Carson and move on to my next read this weekend…which of course would mean having to pick one out of the pile and there’s too many good choices, frankly–a delightful problem to have. Something newly released, or something that’s been waiting to be chosen for some time now?

We also started watching the new season of Bridgerton last night, and it’s really quite a nice show. Nothing terribly serious, some terrific acting and chemistry, light and frothy entertainment done with incredible style and costuming and set design; it’s absolutely lovely to look at, and appealing enough it its tales of love and romance in the British upper class during the Regency. (It’s interesting that the only royal we ever see is Queen Charlotte, but the Prince Regent was a disgusting pig of a man and that wouldn’t work in this tale of pretty rich people at the top of the food chain.) Jonathan Bailey is such a convincing straight man, too–so much for the ‘gays can only play gays’ tropes–and I do hope he has a lovely career befitting his talents.

I was also delighted to wake up to the news that the City Council booted the Klan of Nyx (the racist homophobic suburban hags who’ve been polluting the parade route and giving, for one example, Confederate flag beads to Black children; the people cancelled Nyx several years ago for their horrific behavior and “All Lives Matter” bullshit in a majority Black city?) from parading the final two weeks of Mardi Gras–and the likelihood of getting permission to ride before the last two weeks is highly unlikely. I am going to do another Mardi Gras book, and it’s going to be “ripped” from these headlines.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely and safe Friday, Constant Reader, wherever you may be. And you never know; I may be back later.

Tall Paul

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, which is quite lovely to contemplate this fine morning as I swill down my first cup of coffee and blearily look ahead to the rest of my day. Tomorrow I get to work at home, and I do have some tedious duties to do that should fill out the majority of the workday. I only have to work about six hours or so, which really isn’t that bad, and since I am at home, there won’t be much in the way of distraction…outside of Demon Kitty Sparky, of course.

I slept really well last night–the kind of dead-to-the-world sleep that I love, so I feel rested and relaxed this morning for the first time this week, so naturally it’s Thursday, right? This was happening before I left on the trip, if I am remembering correctly; the later in the week the more rested I was feeling, which again is odd. It doesn’t make sense, really, when you think about it, does it? You should feel more tired towards the end of the week? But you know what, I’ll take it. It’s nice to feel more like myself the way I do this morning. I am still struggling a bit with things–motivation is hard to feel these days for some reason–but things are getting better for me emotionally and so forth.

I’ve been following the Kansas City Chiefs kicker controversy, which just makes me shake my head. You’re beliefs are fine. Believe what you want to, and be happy however you need to get there as long as you aren’t harming anyone has always been my approach to other people’s values and way of life. If you need to believe you have an authoritarian sky daddy and the threat of eternal damnation to be a good person, well, that’s not really saying much about who you are at the core of your being, does it? I personally am not sure what I believe, to be honest, and I had some great conversations with my dad about faith and religion, and I appreciate his honesty and candor. He was raised by a mother who was a borderline religious fanatic (but never seemed to get any joy from her rather simplistic faith), and while religion took with his older siblings, it never really did with him. I grew up evangelical-adjacent; Dad never cared if we went to church or not, and when we did, he didn’t go with us. Mom was the one who started taking us to church, and she’d go without Dad a lot after they moved to Kentucky. I never understand the focus on the do’s and don’ts and dogma and ritual by the faithful…the rituals and dogma are the least of it. It doesn’t make sense to me, but whatever makes life easier for people, you know? Harrison Butken (and you know he was called Harry Butt all through his public education career, which would ordinarily make me a bit more sympathetic to him) didn’t need to get up on that stage and demean women as lesser figures in the eyes of the Lord. He didn’t need to get up there and slander the queer community with baseless, judgmental slurs and insults. ANd of course, the asswipes are out in force screaming “free speech!”

And once again, I will repeat for those in the back: the government isn’t punishing him for his views and speech; and the minute anyone starts screaming about their free speech rights, it usually means they can’t defend what was said in the first place so they fall back on the Constitution–something they’ve never read, do not understand, and cannot comprehend in any meaningful way. But these are the same people who’d argue that the Second Amendment gives you the right to a personal nuclear arsenal, so they aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed.

But Harry Butt was also homophobic as well as misogynist; the misogyny is getting most of the press and commentary, but he basically called the queer community freaks and perverts and weirdos…as I always say, you only rarely go wrong suspecting someone with a dead Confederate general beard of being a jackass (there are exceptions; Eli Cranor, for example, who’s not only a gifted author but a super-nice guy, too); those kinds of beards always put my hackles up whenever I spy one, and yes I know it’s a stereotype, just like all the shit Harry Butt said about queers, but live by the stereotype, die by a stereotype. And misogyny and homophobia inevitably go hand-in-hand with racism, which leads me to believe the Chiefs will probably get a lot of roughing the kicker penalties in the upcoming season…

I did manage to get some things done when I got home from work yesterday. I cleaned the kitchen and worked on the laundry some more–but I’ll have to finish the laundry tonight when I get home from work. I was going to do errands tonight, too, but think I’ll push that off until tomorrow or the weekend. But it was nice to come down to a clean kitchen this morning, and that puts me ahead on chores for the weekend. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; you never know.