Category: travel

The Name Game

And here we are, with a truly strange schedule for work-at-home Friday, as I have some things to get done today outside of the house; Sparky needs some shots (and his Freddy Krueger like claws trimmed, thank you baby Jesus), and we are going to go to Costco at some point. I made a list last night (I’m sorry, but those sausage egg and cheese microwave breakfast sandwiches from Jimmy Dean are addicting), and hopefully it won’t exhaust me. One can hope, at any rate. I did manage to do some of the dishes and get started on that, but was a bit tired and Sparky needed some attention, one thing led to another, and next thing I knew Paul was home and we were getting caught up on Agatha All Along1 and watched another two episodes of American Horror Stories, which continues to be much better than we remembered. I would have sworn we stopped watching, but per Hulu, we’d watched all of the previous two seasons? I don’t know, I might have to revisit an episode or two of the previous seasons to trigger my memories. (It does bother me a little bit that I don’t remember things anymore; I seem to have forgotten a lot–but sixty three years of things to remember is apparently more than my storage banks inside my skull can handle.)

I did pick out a story yesterday for that other anthology I want to submit to–which means I need to get working on it this weekend, as well as other writing chores around the football games tomorrow. The Saints lost last night, so I don’t have to worry about watching them on Sunday, so that should be a good writing day for me. I’ll mostly be watching the Alabama-Tennessee game and the LSU-Arkansas game (but keeping an eye on the Georgia-Texas game, which is on at the same time), which makes my Saturday a little freer. I could watch the Auburn-Missouri game (the early game), but that’s a proper time for me to run errands and be home before the bigger game at 2:30. The living room really has gotten out of control and I need to get that under control this weekend as well. So, the plan for the weekend is to have a good writing weekend and a good “get things taken care of” goal is not a bad thing by any means. I think I am going to drive up to Kentucky next weekend for a week, see my grand-nephew (!!!) play football, that sort of thing and spend some time with Dad.

I also got caught up on The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, which is the only reality show I am really watching anymore (I’ll watch Beverly Hills when it comes back, but the others are getting a bit tired for me; I honestly think we’ve reached max exposure for them and they’ve peaked), and at some point I’ll probably have to get to work on writing out my perceptions and thoughts about this cast, and why I started enjoying and watching so late in its run (I have a problem with shows with criminals in the cast; so by the end of the first season we already knew Jen Shah was one, and I just can’t support that; just like Teresa Guidice’s conviction ended my watching New Jersey–which I was already hate-watching by then); I have only watched the previous season of SLC, and it was quite good. I do have some other thoughts about reality television and why I watch (I think the night time soap comparison that the horrible Camille Paglia made in an interview a while back was spot on; she can be right sometimes, even if she is awful in general) that will probably go into an essay at some point; I also want to do something on gay reality shows, which are generally awful (despite believing, from time to time, that a gay show would be amazing–RuPaul’s Drag Race has, after all, pretty much taken over the world and made her a billionaire–but they are always tragic disappointments)–anyone remember the The A-List? Real Friends of West Hollywood?

My coffee is quite marvelous this morning, I must say. I slept really well last night (which seems to be more of a daily occurrence anymore, which is wonderful), and I feel rested and ready to go today. Once I finish this I am going to work on the dishes and the kitchen, and unpack my backpack. My work at home today is mostly correcting paperwork and some on-line trainings, which is lovely and shouldn’t make me tired in the least before it’s time to punch the clock and then spend the rest of the evening reading or writing until it’s time to catch up on our shows–for some reason Grotesquerie wouldn’t stream last night, and there are more episodes of American Horror Stories to check out. I also want to go back and watch The Assassination of Gianni Versace, which I’ve never watched all the way through (Paul disliked it). It also looks like a beautiful day outside. It’s been colder this week than usual; it’s only 63 today and the sun is our and the sky is that lovely New Orleans blue with puffy white clouds lazily drifting across.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, wherever you are, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

Those are some legs. Sheesh!
  1. Absolutely loving this show, and Joe Locke is fantastic, which pleases me to no end. ↩︎

Is It Wrong (For Loving You)

Well, that was a fun, if tiring, weekend..

I got to the hotel after dark Friday and felt very tired. Dad had gone to his alma mater’s football game with two of his teammates (I started to say old in the generic sense and then realized Dad IS old and so are they so best not to, or at least write a caveat so here we are). It was a peaceful, lovely drive and I was listening to my audiobook (Paul Tremblay’s Survivor Song and I HAVE THOUGHTS), and there wasn’t much traffic, if any. It was a beautiful drive, and I never cease marveling at how beautiful Mississippi and Alabama are. I had planned on stopping to eat at the Whataburger in Tuscaloosa, but for some reason the map app did not take me that way this time; it seems like I never come up here or leave the same way twice in a row. It always takes the same amount of time, though it’s been interesting seeing parts of both states I am not familiar with. I almost stopped at a Jack’s in some small town I passed through after leaving 20/591; but I thought there would be somewhere else before getting here.

NARRATOR VOICE: There was, in fact, nowhere else.

I always forget how little there is between Meridian and Tuscaloosa, or between Birmingham and Chattanooga. It’s best to eat when you get hungry, and get gas before you get down to a quarter tank else you could be fucked. I know I’ve been ravenous sometimes when I’ve had to wait till past Chattanooga to eat, and same for going up from Mobile to Montgomery. It’s weird to feel so anchored to Alabama, isn’t it? I don’t remember living here; I was two when we moved north. We came down to visit a lot, and I know for Mom and Dad (and my grandmother who also lived in Chicago) they always referred to these trips as “going home” and so I, too, have always thought of Alabama as home in a corner of my mind. I never felt like I belonged almost everywhere I lived once I became more aware of just how different I was from everyone else. I felt displaced, like my life was supposed to have happened in Alabama but it didn’t, so in addition to feeling different I felt almost like a transient everywhere. New Orleans is home now, was always meant to be my home, and I have never felt more like I belonged than I do there. I think my life would have been very different had I grown up here, maybe even harder or more difficult; I don’t know. New Orleans and Alabama are, oddly enough, the only places where I don’t feel like a tourist.

I’ve always written about Alabama, and I do sometimes think that somehow my Alabama stories are my best work, as far as the writing is concerned. The story I’m revising right now was the first work I turned into a college writing class (after the first course I took was such a horrific, unmitigated disaster that basically pulled the rug out from under me and derailed my life for years) that not only the professor was incredibly enthusiastic about, but the entire class was as well. This was the story that made me start believing in myself a bit more after the asshole professor derailed my life2 when I was seventeen. Anyway, I digress. Driving through the countryside after getting off the interstate up there always is weird to me in many ways, because it’s so different than I remember. When I was a kid, most houses in the county were old and made of wood, and there were still tin roofs around, although mostly on barns and out buildings on the farms. Now the houses are mostly brick, there are a lot of McMansions, but there are still a lot of blighted buildings rotting and falling to pieces where they stand. There are abandoned country stores and dead gas stations, the store built from cinder blocks and the rusting pumps still out on a crumbling concrete island. It’s also funny because I wrote Bury Me in Shadows from memory, having not been up there in over twenty years, and seeing the differences now…I guess I never had to worry overmuch about basing that book in a county based on where we’re from, and the differences are so striking no one would recognize it as the same.

Saturday I went with Dad to his high school reunion lunch, which was at a nice restaurant where we always eat every time I’m up there (they have the most amazing chicken fajitas), and that was nice. We headed back to the hotel after and spent the rest of the day watching college football games. The LSU game was amazing, but they sent me into despair a lot during the night. They won the game without ever having the lead! A bitterly disappointing loss for Mississippi (how many times have their dreams died in Tiger Stadium? It’s really no wonder why they hate us so much), but a very exciting game. The Tigers are now ranked in the top ten–which is great, but a big win does not a season make, if you know what I mean–and the rest of the schedule isn’t easy, either. Two road games in a row, then Alabama before one more road game at Florida before finishing out the season with two home games in a row. There has been a lot of great football games this season already, which has made it a lot more fun to watch than it has been in years. Saturday alone, there was the LSU game; Alabama-South Carolina (Alabama eked out a two point win); Tennessee beating Florida in overtime; Penn State-USC went to overtime; Oregon beat Ohio State by one point; and Vanderbilt kept up its winning ways by beating Kentucky. I ain’t going to lie, I am rooting for Vanderbilt to have a great season.

Yesterday I drove home, finished listening to Survivor Song, and then listened to the “My Dad Wrote a Porno”. I was very tired when I got home, very tired, so I spent the day in my chair getting caught up on the news from the weekend before we started getting caught up on our shows. I went to bed early and slept well–I was tired all weekend, but had slept well both nights, but not long enough. I did sleep a little later this morning (I took the day off) than I was expecting (but I also woke up at 5:30 the first time), and feel good. There’s still some residual trip hangover today, but I don’t mind that in the least. The apartment is a mess–I left it one when I left Friday afternoon, and so that needs to be handled today and I am also going to have to run some errands and get reoriented back into normality before heading back into the office tomorrow morning bright and early. I also have some things that I need to get done today–probably will be able to get all that done this afternoon–and then probably will settle into a relaxing evening. We started watching season four of Outer Banks last night, so we’ll watch some of that I am sure.

I didn’t have time to do much reading or writing this weekend, either, but I feel like today I can get to some of that. I do want to finish Gabino’s book this week, so I can move on to another as well.

And on that note, I’m heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; one never knows.

  1. The two highways run together from Meridian to almost Georgia–somewhere in northeast Alabama at any rate; it really is always mostly a blur. ↩︎
  2. I also realized this weekend that horrible professor fucked up my life for a very long time, and I’ve never given him enough credit for unmooring me and setting me adrift. I’ve always hated him, but now I hate him even more, and what an abuse of power and control! He shouldn’t have been allowed near students under any circumstance. ↩︎

That Song Is Driving Me Crazy

Friday, and after I get my work at home duties finished, it’s time to head up to Alabama. It’ll be nice seeing Dad again, and I will be listening to Paul Tremblay on my way to and fro; Survivor Song, in case you were wondering. I’ve almost finished all of his canon, which means the last book will be saved until his next new one drops, so I won’t be out of his work to read (I know, it’s silly to do this, and maybe I’ll finally stop holding books in reserve because I don’t want to be out of that author’s work to look forward to *coughs* Daphne du Maurier *cough* Mary Stewart *cough* Shirley Jackson *cough*)1. I think I am going to have some down time while up there, so I can possibly get some reading of the new Gabino done as well. (Dad is doing some things with the other survivors from his graduating class2.) I did wind up sleeping in a little later than I intended, but I was very worn out by the time I ran my errands and got home from everything. I relaxed last night once I was home–Paul was at an event and didn’t get home until later (we watched this week’s Agatha All Along and the season debut of Abbott Elementary)–with Sparky (who was a demon cat for a lot longer than usual) and got caught up on the news while resting and waiting for Paul to get home. I feel a bit more rested this morning, but I have to drive for between five and six hours tonight, so I worry that I’ll be super tired when I get there tonight. We’re having a cold spell (for us) and the temperatures are very fall for us. Next week it’s going to be in the fifties at night, with highs in the seventies during the day. Woo-hoo! The season of sweat appears to be behind us at long last.

I saw hints and rumors that the same area in the western Caribbean that spawned both Helene and Milton might be looking to hatch up another one of these accelerated storms that will follow the same approximate path, which is horrifying; Nadine will be the name3. What a horrible season–and I also can’t help but remember former patterns, in which New Orleans and Louisiana got slammed pretty hard the year after Florida got hit four times in one year. (I always look for patterns, because on a deep level I find patterns very soothing)

I did do some work on writing last night; I started looking through the new Scotty to see where I was already wrong on things (I have always based his grandparents’ home in the Garden District on one specific house; I was writing it from memory, but in reviewing a lot of the photos I took of the house at one point, I saw my memory had been faulty and incorrect. I need to have some things wrong, of course, so people won’t know the actual house (or so the owners can’t sue me for having people murdered on their property), but it cleared up some confusion in my brain about what I was writing, and so I will need to go in and fix that. I think that’s my project for the next week; revising and correcting the chapters I already have finished, while also preparing a cast list and an outline as I go. I also have to come up with a synopsis and cover text and marketing copy for it; so those are all things I can work on over the next week. I also have to finish revising that short story for the anthology whose deadline is the 15th; I think I know how to really make the story finally work after all these years…and if they don’t take it, I can put the revised version in my new collection. I love that for me, and I also figured out what story I am going to write for another anthology I’ve been asked to contribute something to; and I also want to write something for another anthology whose due date is November 1–so I’d best get cracking on that, don’t you think?

I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed and stretched pretty far this past week–lots of things to do, more pressure at the day job (and it’s temporary, Mary, so get over yourself), a messy home, a trip to take and another to plan, and of course my own pressures from deadlines and writing. That’s not even taking into consideration the existential crisis facing us in this upcoming election–blocking and avoiding all legacy media has been wonderful; their corrupt betrayal of the American public since 2015 (if not sooner; I am pretty sure they didn’t report on Obama fairly, either) has rendered them forever meaningless in my eyes. I am not nearly as stressed about any of this as I usually am. I am sure that’s partly the generalized anxiety disorder being medicated properly, and the other was a conscious decision. The deletion of Twitter has been probably the best thing I’ve done for my mental health since deciding last year to get the right medications for that (properly diagnosed at sixty-two at long last). It has freed up so much time–I thought of myself as a casual Twitter user, but now that I no longer have that wretched app, I am seeing that I used it a lot more than I ever thought, so breaking that wretched addiction and walking away from it for good was incredibly wise. Paul isn’t on social media at all, and he is much happier without it than I was with it all this time.

But now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep and got some extra, I am feeling good and like I can handle everything. I am not going into the office on Monday–I have some appointments so took the day off–so I am going to be able to get the house worked on some and run some necessary errands on that day to prep for the week. I’m going back to Kentucky later this month for a longer visit, but I’ve not really figured that out just yet, either.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines so I can get my work done and head north. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow–and if not, definitely Sunday after I get back to New Orleans.

  1. There are also a couple of Agatha Christies I’ve not read–Death in the Air and Murder in Three Acts. ↩︎
  2. Yes, I can hear how grim that sounds once I started typing it out, but it’s accurate. How else to say it simply? They all graduated sixty-three years ago (and yes, I was born three months after my parents graduated), so they are all at least eighty-one–and much as modern medicine has extended longevity, they are also the last generation that was encouraged to smoke, along with all the other unhealthy ways they loved. Imagine cooking with lard, for one. ↩︎
  3. IMPORTANT CORRECTION: It was fake news. There’s nothing there right now, but it’s possible and any potential path of something that doesn’t exist is obviously incorrect. Sorry for including this, but I did say it was a rumor. ↩︎

Things Aren’t Funny Anymore

It was chilly yesterday morning when I left the Lost Apartment for the office; I actually thought about going back in for a light jacket, but decided eventually to simply tough it out because I suspected (correctly) that the once the day got going it would get hot out. I was tired yesterday–fatigued, more than anything else–but the day was relatively calm at the office which was a lovely respite from the shit show of the earlier days of the week at the office; yesterday, however, we had several amusing intercom system mishaps. A code was called seven times…for a floor we don’t have. Another time the intercom system got turned on and a conversation between three women was broadcast through the entire building. Needless to say, our entire department was in hysterics.

Kind of a silly day around the office really.

But I was very tired when I got off work again yesterday, which comes mostly from stress at at the office. Yesterday was much better than the previous days, but those two days kind of wore me down for the entire week. I did manage to work on a short story I want to revise and submit to an anthology next week, and once I did go to bed, I slept extremely well and feel rested this morning, which is awesome. I don’t think today at work will be terribly stressful, but you never know. I haven’t yet checked the news about Milton and what’s happened to Florida overnight–mainly because I’m almost afraid to; just as I’m a bit worried to check the hurricane center for new developments occurring. The season doesn’t officially end until December 1 (!!!) and there have been years where we’ve had hurricanes through November. Yay.

After my brain finally became too tired to do anything last night, I just spent the rest of the evening before going to be watching hurricane coverage. I lived in Tampa for about four years or so, back in the 90s before cell phones and before everyone had the Internet; a simpler time if you will. I’ve only been back once, and I could hardly recognize it from when I lived there before (I did fly into the airport two other times, one for Bouchercon in St. Petersburg and the other when we went to that tennis resort just north of the city), it’s changed so much. That’s partly why I don’t write about Tampa; I have fictional places in Florida I write about because it’s how I remember things. I should probably go back to Tampa once more to research how the city is laid out and other things, get a feel for it–or I could just keep writing about fictional cities that are based on real places. Muscles is a Florida book, should I ever finish it, and there are several other ideas I have for Florida books. Will I ever have the time or opportunity to write them? I still delude myself that this I will.

I am glad, however, that bad as it was–Milton wasn’t as bad as he could have been. But I am sure those who’ve lost their homes probably aren’t feeling grateful for anything this morning other than being still alive. Trust me, I know the feeling. It’s sometimes hard to believe that Katrina was over nineteen years ago. I don’t know what we do if we dealt with another one of those here; we’re both kind of old to go through the rebuilding thing again, so we maintain a sense of denial about Louisiana’s hurricane vulnerability. I also kind of feel in some way–the superstitions left over from the primordial ooze brain deep inside–that writing about a hurricane hitting New Orleans will cause one, because I am just THAT powerful. There was a lot of that after Katrina in the first few days, until I realized how incredibly narcissistic that is. Yes, Greg, your city was destroyed because you were writing about a hurricane at the time; everyone else is at your mercy. Talk about a God complex.

And tomorrow I’ll be working at home before I leave for Alabama. I may stop by the office on my way out of town; but we shall see. And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday, everyone, and I shall chat with you tomorrow morning.

Love is Like a Butterfly

Tuesday morning and I feel good again. I was very tired when I got home from work yesterday (my supervisor being in Europe is just as stressful as I suspected it would be), and just kind of chilled out last night. I did start outlining what I’ve already written on the Scotty, and I did start looking at stories for this anthology I am going to try to submit something for–I think I can finally change and edit a certain story that’s been in my files for decades. We started watching the new Menendez Brothers documentary on Netflix last night, and will probably finish it tonight. And despite the stress of yesterday morning, I did manage to get all my work done at the office, so I am pretty caught up.

I am going to Alabama this weekend; I heard from Dad and so I am going to drive up there after work on Friday, and come back home on Sunday; a short visit with Dad and then back home. I am going to go up to Kentucky later this month; I need to reschedule some things, but that’s all do-able.

I just looked at the Hurricane Milton updates and am very worried about all my friends who live in Florida. I lived in Tampa for five years in the nineties, when I worked for Continental Airlines; yes, the Tampa airport is the airport where I worked, with the white shirt with epaulets and the navy blue pants and the name tag. (The opening scene of The Orion Mask is set at Tampa Airport; my main character was an airline employee.) We never had anything really major happen there of a tropical nature when I lived there, so it was never anything I worried about before moving to New Orleans. I think about the barrier islands in Tampa Bay, and how narrow the peninsula that St. Petersburg sits on actually is; it’s not impossible that this monster storm could wipe a lot of that area clean. I remain hopeful that somehow this won’t be the coming disaster it appears to be; I can’t even imagine how bad the best case scenario could be. There was significant wind damage to New Orleans with Katrina, which people tend to forget about because of the catastrophic flood that ensued when the levees failed. Roofs will come off, trees will be uprooted and flung about with great force; if it’s as strong as they are saying it could be when it comes ashore, the wind could move cars. I hope everyone gets out that is able. It turns my stomach to think about what could happen there. I hope none of it comes to pass–but I am also realistic. I hope everyone I care about who lives in Florida was able to get out and is okay, and worst case scenarios do not come to pass.

I think I’m going to take Gabino with me to Alabama, and I was looking for a horror novel to listen to in the car, and I am leaning towards listening to Paul Tremblay’s Survivor Song or The Pallbearer’s Club. I do love his writing, though, so it’s fun to read Tremblay; but I do love his work and he’s probably one of my favorite horror writers of this current epoch of horror fiction. I’ll have to pick out some more later for the trip up to Kentucky.1 It seems a bit surreal to be thinking about trips and such things–the minutiae of life–while destruction looms for Florida, doesn’t it? (And what does this mean for the Florida football team? They are on the road at Tennessee this weekend, but supposed to be playing at home the following weekend; I suspect that game will be moved to Lexington.) It’ll be hot without power, but at least October is cooler than August or September. Small favors, indeed.

And on that sad note, I am heading into the spice mines. Keep everyone in the path of the storm in your thoughts, and send some positivity their way–and hope they won’t need it.

  1. It also just occurred to me that I am being counter-intuitive with the trip up there; there’s certainly no reason for me to go from weekend to weekend; I can also go during the week and come back the following week. I hate being so obtuse as to think that ‘trip for a week’ means Sunday to Sunday. ↩︎

I’m A Ramblin’ Man

And here we are, heading back into a Monday and a brand new work week. My supervisor is currently enjoying herself in London for the next two weeks, which makes me the go-to guy for all things testing related and for my program. It may be stressful and exhausting, or it could be totally smooth sailing. I’m also meeting Dad this weekend in Alabama. I’ll have to pick out a horror novel to listen to in the car….I suppose I could continue listening to the podcast I’m thoroughly enjoying, My Dad Wrote a Porno, but probably will go with a book. I’m going to take a week off later in the month and go up to Kentucky–which means more books to listen to.

It was, in some ways, a rejuvenating kind of weekend; I rested a lot Friday evening and Saturday, and as such, felt good yesterday. It was also a lovely day in New Orleans; I walked around the neighborhood to take pictures of the aftermath of a fire the other night just past the corner of Magazine and Hastings1 (she was renting one of the places for Mardi Gras, and had to find another place, obviously), then walked back home, got in the car because I needed gas, and after fueling her up I went to the Fresh Market. Paul was working with his trainer, and once he got back from the gym we watched two movies–The Fall Guy, which we really enjoyed and was a rather fun, charming movie (you can never go wrong with Emily Blunt, and Ryan Gosling was goofily adorable the way he always is) that had a truly terrific supporting cast as well, including Hannah Waddingham, and a true crime documentary that wasn’t good. I slept really well last night, too, and feel pretty good already this morning. I didn’t do much work on the book this weekend, but I did finish marking up the Scotty books, so that’s done. I also had another idea about structure with this book, which is going to be tricky from hereon out to pull off, but I think I can do it, and that’s a very good thing. I also managed to finally finish my blog entry review of Alison Gaylin’s We Are Watching, but you should have know that already if you stop by regularly. I also didn’t read much this weekend, either; it was more about recovery and rest this past weekend than anything else.

I am, by the way, loving the weather. It’s been so beautiful lately, other than the soggy mess that was Friday, which kicked my sinuses into gear, which was partly why I didn’t get anything done. I need to be more careful of my time, though. I’ve gotten so used to spending the weekend recovering from the week and losing track of time (because I feel like I have so much of it every week when Friday rolls around), so should probably start trying to structure the weekends more so I can get things done. I’d forgotten that when you have more free time you need to structure it a little better–but it’s kind of fun just doing what I want when I want to, I must say. I have to get used to this free time thing, and what a horrible problem for me to have, right? There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, after all–as long as you don’t let your failure to meet goals (from being lazy and having too much free time) affect your self-worth and stop belittling/demeaning myself. I’ve done pretty well for myself as a writer, overall, and considering I did it all mostly on my own–that’s saying something.

I think one of the most important things for me going forward is to cure myself of Imposter Syndrome; I know I’ve talked about how I was raised and how I was taught to be about work–keep your ego out of it2 and let others see the work you do and let them appreciate it. The problem is people never like to let a writer know they enjoyed something–but they do know how to register an outraged opinion. I do the best I can with everything I write, and if I am a better writer than I was twenty-five years ago, good. (I must confess, revisiting Scotty to do the Bible was a pleasant surprise, as the books are actually good.) I also know that there’s nothing I can’t do or achieve if I set my mind to it and plan and stick to it. I did think a lot about writing this weekend–and what are the things I want to write and do over the next few years. It’s so lovely being clear-headed, seriously–you have no idea. The fog is clearing! I feel like GREG again for the first time in nearly a decade. And I’m kind of excited about it, if that makes sense? For example, I saw a news story the other day that gave me not only an insight but a clue to how to fix “Festival of the Redeemer”; that will be fun to rewrite and fix. I also had some thoughts and ideas for Never Kiss a Stranger, Muscles, Chlorine, and the next Scotty–French Quarter Flambeaux, another Mardi Gras novel. I had hoped to revise a short story for a submission call that’s due on the 15th, but I don’t think I’ll have the time to get something ready for it. I do have a story that might fit and needs resolution in a revision, though. There’s still time, of course, but I am not writing as fast as I used to be able to do. Maybe once the muscles get more warmed up? One never knows, does one?

I just saw the Milton forecast, which has me worried and concerned for my central Florida peeps. Take care and be safe, everyone!

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day–may be back later!

  1. If you’re a local and don’t know where Hastings is, you’re not alone. I didn’t, either, until she stayed there on a visit sometime in the last few years. It’s one of those little streets in the lower Garden District that only exist for a block or so. It also joins into the intersection at Magazine and Felicity; there are two lanes that veer off to the right to stay on Magazine, and if you veer left you can go down the one block of Hastings. It creates a pie-shaped block that comes to a point at the intersection, and there’s a small park there, and Gris-Gris restaurant is on both Hastings on one side and Magazine on the other. ↩︎
  2. I have a very strong and powerful ego, don’t ever be fooled into thinking I don’t. Knowing how bad it can be is why I go to such an opposite extreme; I don’t like egomaniacal authors who think everything they write is deathless prose that will live for a thousand years–um, you ain’t Homer, dude. ↩︎

Trouble in Paradise

Work at home Friday (gotta get down it’s Friday) and I slept a little later than I thought I would; Sparky didn’t even try to wake me up at the usual time (how does he know?) but there you have it. I feel good and rested this morning, and I have errands to run this morning before my work-at-home chores this afternoon. I have to take Paul to some appointments and since I’m already out, might as well run my own while I’m at it, right? I am going to get a new desk chair today; this one is incredibly old–I bought it when we moved back in here after Katrina from the carriage house–and Skittle is the one who ripped it to shreds, and he’s been gone since 2010, so yeah, I am overdue for a new one. It always sinks, too, so I sit too low at the computer.

I hope everyone still in Helene’s path are sheltering safely, and those over whom it has already passed are okay. She’s turned out to be quite the bitch. I worry about the flooding, which looks to be horrific. Although all this rain water and swollen flooding rivers will help deter this year’s salt intrusion up the river, which isn’t a bad thing.

I had a pretty decent day, but by the time I got home from work last night I was feeling a little brain fatigue. I worked a bit on the Scotty Bible last night (got Garden District Gothic entered, leaving only a few left to go, including Jackson Square Jazz), and went ahead and rewatched the first two episodes of Monsters, and within the context of the rest of the series, they aren’t as bad as I originally thought they were. I’m still not sure whose perspective that first episode was supposed to be from, but I think it’s the American public’s, and the second was the cops’. It is really interesting how much thinking I’ve done about this show, and there’s some interesting commentary, methinks, that I should be able to write and talk about. I want to start watching Grotesquerie tonight (love me some Niecy Nash-Betts) after Paul gets home, and I also want to get some cleaning done today. I have to launder the bed linens, and there’s still a sink filled with dishes to wash. Heavy sigh. But I was thinking last night I might put the film of the Eras tour on again while I am working around the house today; I do love me some Taylor Swift, and I was thinking I am not as familiar with her newer stuff as I am her older stuff (which I still love and has never gotten old to me), and I enjoyed the concert film, so why not watch it again?

The LSU game tomorrow night is being broadcast on the SEC Network, so I can watch it if I so desire, but it’s also on at the same time as Georgia-Alabama, which is what I will probably end up watching. The Saints game is at noon on Sunday, and we’re playing the hated Falcons, so I am going to have to plan my Sunday around that. I am not sure of the college football schedule for tomorrow, but I should try to do any remaining errands tomorrow morning before the games start. A quick glance over the schedule really doesn’t show anything I absolutely must watch, so I am hopeful I won’t go into a football coma and get sucked into watching games I don’t care about all day. Que sera, sera.

I am going to be taking Jordan Harper’s Everybody Knows with me on this morning’s Paul’s appointments tour of the city, and I also hope to finish reading it this weekend before diving into my October Horror reading, starting with a reread of We Have Always Lived in the Castle and Gabino Iglesias’ new book. I’d like to get through several horror novels this coming month, but I also am not sure how that would look. I am going to have to go up to Kentucky later in the month–LSU’s bye weekend is looking pretty good for that trip–and I should be able to get a lot of reading done while I am up there. Also, I can listen to books in the car. I am probably going to meet Dad in Alabama for the weekend weekend after next (the Mississippi game), and then go up to Kentucky a week or so later for a longer visit. It’ll be cold up there (of course), but it’s been a hot minute so I’ll probably drive up on a Saturday and back on Sunday.

And on that note, I am bringing this to a close so I can get cleaned up and do some other things this morning. Have a lovely Friday, and please please please stay safe if you’re in the path of Helene.

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The Streak

Tuesday morning and staring down a brand new day; the week is passing every so slowly but that’s fine, you know. I slept really well last night, but was kind of slow to waking up this morning. The coffee is going down pretty well so far, and I do feel rested this morning; much more awake than yesterday, but not lively as of yet. Yesterday was a nice day, if a very busy one at the office; I suspect that is going to be the case again today. I think I’ll just come straight home from work tonight. I didn’t do much of anything when I got home from work yesterday, other than finish watching Monsters before going to bed relatively early. The kitchen is a mess and disaster area, so I need to get that taken care of tonight when I get home; tomorrow I can do the mail and the grocery store if I need to. Fascinating, right?

I did manage to do very little writing last night–Chapter Six proving to be a bit more difficult than Five was–but that’s okay; I was tired and not really operating on all cylinders, either. I was horribly lazy, too. When I came downstairs this morning to the kitchen I was horrified that I left it like that overnight, knowing I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until after work tonight. The sink has dirty dishes and there’s stuff all over my counters. I didn’t even make the chicken salad, which I will absolutely have to do tonight. The refrigerator also needs to be organized. Sigh. And I’m sure there’s another load of laundry already, too. Heavy heaving sigh. This is why I need to get this shit completely done on the weekends.

I also didn’t do my daily German lesson yesterday, either, which is a total shame because I was on a rather long streak with it. Some of it is coming back to me, which makes the lessons somewhat easier; I remember a lot of vocabulary words–or they come back at least when I see them on the screen. Our plan is to go to Amsterdam and Germany at some point; I’d rather like to see Berlin and the German Museum where the stolen head of Queen Nefertiti–which belongs in Egypt–is currently housed. I don’t want to be fluent, but at least be able to speak somewhat coherently to the locals. So, definitely have to do it tonight, for sure.

I also discovered something chilling about my last name yesterday–I may have been aware but my mind had forgotten–but the Nazi Master Race theory? Die herrenvolk. Yikes. I’ve always assumed herren meant men–it’s on every men’s room door in Germany, Austria and Switzerland–but it also means lord…as well as master. Double yikes. It was definitely unsettling to be slapped in the face with a reminder (if I knew it once) of what herrenvolk means….triple yikes and gross.

I also didn’t get to read last night. I managed about six or seven hundred words written on the book, and Sparky really wanted me in my easy chair–he’s always super needy on Mondays after having us both home all weekend, and was climbing me while I fed him–so I obliged. He’s such a sweet baby, and he was in bed with me again this morning when I hit snooze for the first time. He’s not as docile as Scooter, and isn’t nearly as manipulative as Skittle was, but he’s a sweet baby doofus who’s gradually getting more calm than he was when we first got him. And I love how he’s always waiting at the door when I get home–he hears the gate close. Paul says he’ll be upstairs asleep on the bed and will suddenly pop up, jump down and run down the stairs…and he knows it means I’ll be coming through the front door in a moment or two. He still likes to ride on my shoulders, too.

It does look as if that tropical system off the Yucatan is going to form and head for the Florida panhandle, as there’s a cold front coming in from Texas to Louisiana which will push it that direction–which of course is always subject to change right up until the eye wall comes ashore. It’s projected to be arriving sometime Thursday afternoon. I wish everyone on the panhandle and in the path of said storm luck and a speedy recovery from the destruction, which will be minimal, fingers crossed.

I enjoyed Monsters, and so did Paul. He doesn’t really remember the Menendez case as well as I do–of course, back then I was a potential crime writer, so all big crimes interested me for a while until there was so much coverage I got sick of the cases. I honestly don’t remember the incest stuff, which apparently the real brothers are really bothered by; but I also had that sense when it was going on from somewhere, that there was incest beyond the paternal molestation and rape, and according to the show, Erik testified to molesting his brother with a toothbrush? One of the final episodes is more focused on Dominick Dunne, and frankly, I’d love to see a series where Nathan Lane plays Dunne; he deserves an Emmy for that episode alone. I’m going to think about the show a bit more before writing about it, of course–it needs digesting–but the acting was top notch, as almost always in a Murphy series; the actors playing the leads are very impressive…and will probably be seen in a lot of Murphy shows as he likes to work with the same people over and over again.

And on that note, I’m heading into the spice mines. I do have a ZOOM meeting tonight at 6, and will be trying to clean the kitchen before that gets started. I may be back later, I’m never really sure how that goes, you know? If not, I will see you on the morrow, Constant Reader.

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Cara Mia

My apologies in advance, for I am feeling a bit smug this morning.

Suffice it to say, deciding to flex and exercise my writing muscles again with a new Scotty was an incredibly smart decision. I started with a very slow, hesitant 1300 words on Sunday that took about four hours to do…and then when I got home from work last night, blasted out a quick 2000 more (about an hour or so) that not only advanced the story (which I was making up as I went) and now I am starting to get there. I’ve also not created a Scotty completely from scratch in a very long time, starting with nothing more than a situation and a title and making it up as I go along. And you know what?

It fucking felt fantastic. Highly recommended, would definitely do again.

I’m kind of excited about getting home tonight (after making groceries) and writing even more!

I also channeled that momentum into finishing the dishes and cleaning out the sink once I’d printed out the pages from yesterday. All the dishes are clean, and Paul finished the laundry for me while I was at the office, bless his heart. After finishing the chores, we watched a few episodes of Solar Opposites, which is fantastic, and then I caught up on the news and so forth before heading to bed. A rather exciting Gregalicious evening, no? I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to let whatever it is take over and bang out those 2k words last night–and they aren’t bad, either. Huzzah for me! I also ordered pizza for dinner last night, which was also really good and hit the spot. It was quite a lovely Monday from start to finish, frankly, and I never really felt tired all day, either. This morning I am awake, firing on most cylinders and have no desire or need to go back to bed, and that’s terrific, too.

And my, this coffee is tasty this morning.

Not a bad way at all of starting the day, and not at all a bad way to feel on Tuesday morning, either. It’s lovely when you have a couple of really good days when you feel like yourself again. The missing piece in my life has been the writing, honestly, and now that I am starting (no guarantees it will last, after all, or that I’ll feel that way every morning going forward) to get back into the groove of writing again, I remember feeling this good before and I want to keep feeling this good, you know? It’s so easy to have a down day and then turn that into a malaise that lasts far too long for my comfort. I’m still feeling my way through this recovery-from-everything period, and it’s really kind of nice. It really does feel like there was a dark cloud in my brain for years, keeping me from relaxing or even being able to enjoy the thrills and good parts of authoring. I’ve often mused about my not being able to ever be able to actually enjoy the highs of my career and being me because there’s always something clouding my neurons and synapses. It was very cool being nominated for three Anthony Awards last year (and I lost all three), and an Agatha and a Lefty. That’s five award nominations in a year, with no wins, but I don’t really mind not winning, much as I joke about being such a unrelenting awards loser–but a lot of writers are never nominated for even one writing award, and I certainly never saw myself as ever being nominated for any mainstream awards, so each one is truly a wonderful blessing.

And it’s a lot of fun pretending to be bitter about always losing awards.

Everyone is beginning to start their Bouchercon travels, which is popping up all over my social media feeds, and is giving me serious FOMO. But it’s simply not in the cards for me to head up to Bouchercon this year, and I think taking a full year away from conferences and so forth while readjusting and settling into my life again is probably a good idea. It’s also kind of a good thing that I had/have so much free and down time over the last year or so; not only to mentally and physically recover but to reassess and rethink a lot of things. It’s not so much that I have a new attitude (although I do) about my career and life, but I need to take more time to be appreciative of how lucky I’ve been, and how much my hard work has paid off over the years.

It’s very easy to confuse wanting greater success with feeling like a failure because you aren’t there, and that is something I definitely need to remember.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I probably won’t be back later; but hey–stranger things have happened.

No Time

Wednesday hump day and we’ve made it to the midpoint of yet another week, one that is startlingly so much better than the ones preceding it that I actually don’t mind looking at social media. Of course, I’ve purged everyone from the mainstream media outlets I am boycotting now and probably forever, so I am not seeing their bullshit “pick me” scare headlines anymore, and you know, my world is already a much better place without them in it. My social media feeds now are filled with excitement in a way I’ve never really seen before. Does that mean I am in a bubble? Probably, but at the same time my news sources now are more reputable and reliable than the old US Big Four, who seem to be in the tank for authoritarianism and fascism. Who knew the fourth estate was such unethical garbage? The Right, as it turns out, was correct about them all the time, and they are more concerned with appealing to the people who will never buy their paper than serving the audience they’ve built over the decades…after all, now they’re saying we should have had an open convention. The head of the ticket stepped down, so the second person is stepping in–which is how it works and is the most important role of the vice-president–President in waiting, just in case.

And I think a lot of people are starting to wonder about JD Vance being a heartbeat away from the White House, given he is running with the oldest person ever to accept his party’s nomination. (Someone called him a shillbilly yesterday, and I still emit a small snicker every time I think about it.) Republicans have given us a lot of mediocrities as vice-presidential candidates this century, haven’t that? Dick Cheney, Sarah Palin, Paul Ryan, Mike Pence, and now this grifting garbage.

Yesterday was a good day. I had a very productive day at the office before coming home. I lost track of the evening–BBC America news clips on Youtube, so much better than anything native to these shores–and then checked in with a few of my young Gen Z political news junkies, like Luke Beasley and Meidas Touch (and yes, I know they are biased, but it’s nice to hear someone else puncturing their balloons of hollow logic), and before I knew it, it was late and Paul was home and it was almost time to go to bed. So, tonight I will have to be a bit more productive when I get home. I need to get the kitchen back under control before the weekend, and I need to do some errands on the way home tonight, too. Need to delve back into the book. July has also kind of slipped through my fingers, too, and I had wanted to try to write something for the Malice anthology–which I will probably not get back around to before its deadline, which is the 1st of August. I hate when I let that sort of thing happen.

It’s funny, but I’ve never considered my family to be Appalachian; we’re from Alabama. I knew there were mountains in North Alabama. I don’t think I ever made the connection that those mountains were actually the Appalachians (maybe I did and just don’t remember)–and it is considered Appalachia. So, like Vance, I am Appalachia-adjacent. I am a child of Appalachia but never lived in Appalachia, but spent a lot of summers there, like Vance. I would never write a book trashing my family as worthless and lazy (I couldn’t, because they aren’t), and extrapolating that out to everyone in Appalachia (#notallAppalachians). Even though I’ve always considered Alabama the home place for my family (my real “home” was always where my mother lived), where my roots are and where I come from, I am not really of Alabama or Appalachia. It strongly influenced my life because my parents were technically hillbillies (or Mountain Williams, as an old Bugs Bunny cartoon called them), but hillbilly has always been kind of a slur for poor white trash; and one I’ve always kind of proudly claimed, jokingly. But I don’t know as much about either Alabama or Appalachia as I probably should. I’ve been making up for it with Alabama, but I really do need to study my heritage more–and being Appalachian is a much better heritage to claim rather than the Confederacy.

And I do love my lazy approach to research, in which I idly come back to it whenever I remember.

And I am just as Appalachian as JD Vance, and at least I am neither ashamed or embarrassed by the fact or my family.

I’ve also really enjoyed watching Appalachia come together on social media to drag him for the lying filth he is. (The fact that I got all the jokes, too, was definitely an indicator of the heritage, wasn’t it?) Hell, every time I drive up to eastern Kentucky I am going to Appalachia.

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

I’ve had cowboys on my mind lately. They definitely can be sexy as fuck, as depicted here.