Category: working out

A Big Hunk o’ Love

Saturday morning and I slept late, and feel a bit fatigued. I graduated from PT yesterday, which was awesome–but I’ll miss going. I really liked my therapist.

I headed down to the Quarter in a Lyft yesterday after finishing my work-at-home duties, and didn’t have time to write yesterday, which I hope to do this morning. We (Paul) have that lovely suite up on the fourteenth floor of the Monteleone again–but of course I come home every night to take care of Sparky (who was waiting in the window when I got home). I went to the opening reception at the Keyes House in the Quarter (it’s called BK House now instead of its old name; in which the B stands for the general who started the Civil War–he was from New Orleans), which is an absolutely beautiful space, and I just realized I didn’t take any pictures, which I should do more of today and tonight. After the reception, where I ran into any number of delightful people (namedropping here–but amongst those I ran into were Rob Byrnes, Carol Rosenfeld, Amie Evans, Eric Andrews-Katz, Susan Larson, Trebor Healey, and Margot Douaihy), I went to eat (well, to watch them eat) with Steven Reigns, Karl (K. M.) Soehnlein, Marco Carocari, his husband Mark, and Trebor Healey. We went to that bar that used to be Yo Mama’s but has a different name now. It was lovely going down memory lane with Steven over all the years of Saints & Sinners, and remembering how it all happened in the first place all those years ago. Twenty-one years now, which is pretty amazing for a queer lit fest.

Then again, I married a pretty remarkable person.

I have to read today, and I think I have settled on my story from School of Hard Knox, “The Ditch,” because it’s an Alabama story and I can pull out my accent for it. Maybe not at first, but as I get into the story more, absolutely. I’ll also need to rehearse a bit this afternoon before I head down there again. I think today I’ll wear more sensible shoes than I did yesterday, so I can take the streetcar down and walk home at the end of the evening. It’s a lovely walk and the evenings are so cool and temperate…I really wanted to walk home last night rather than taking a Lyft home, but my shoes–I was wearing my new black-and-white saddle shoes, and I worried about walking all that way in them. Not that they would be uncomfortable, but the wear-and-tear on them for that long of a walk–that’s what my Adidas are for. I also noticed on the way to the Quarter in a Lyft (thanks, Tedzin, for the ride) that the Appellate Court building on Camp Street was named for John Minor Wisdom, who’d served there with distinction for over twenty years; it just struck me as funny yesterday that a Federal Appellate court building was named minor wisdom, which I am going to have to use in a book sometime.

I also did some chores and filing and straightening up around here yesterday, so the workspace is a lot less cluttered and a lot more functional now. I’ve also decided on a major project for this summer–getting rid of paper files. I don’t need a paper file for anything that isn’t really something in progress right now, but it’s also a massive undertaking that would require going through all the files…and there are so many files…but condensing them and cleaning out the files that I don’t really need much anymore would also make the workspace more functional and the apartment far less cluttered looking. I have so many ideas I won’t be able to write them all unless I not only live to well over a hundred but don’t get any NEW ideas for the rest of my life.

I think it’s safe to assume that’s never going to happen.

Sigh, I also have to start pulling my taxes together for my accountant. Sigh. What an odious chore, but like I’ve always said–there’s nothing more patriotic than paying your taxes so the country continues to be funded. That doesn’t mean I don’t take every deduction I can and try to get the bill down as much as possible, but I don’t ever complain about paying taxes. I kind of like paved roads and infrastructure and so forth. Call me a libtard; I wear it as a badge of honor–unlike the con(servative) artists out there, or the cosplay Christians who missed all the important messages of their religion to be better people.

And on that note, I think I am going to go sit and read for a bit before I amp up for writing. Have a great day, Constant Reader–I doubt I’ll be back later, but stranger things have happened.

There Goes My Baby

Work at home Friday, my last PT appointment, and the opening reception of Saints and Sinners is tonight. Woo-hoo! I also revised and edited and rewrote chapter two of the book, and started writing a new short story and did some more research on that elusive book I hope to write in the second half of the year if I stay motivated and on track.

I had dinner with friends last night after work, too. We ate at Besame, on South Rampart on the uptown side of Canal. It’s a fusion place, I think Peruvian? I had fish (Mahi-Mahi, pan seared) and grits. The fish was in this amazing green chile sauce that was insanely delicious, and the grits were a variation I’d never had before, but also were quite delicious. It really is amazing how good the food in New Orleans is, which I always forget–like I always forget how stunningly beautiful it is here, and how lucky I am to have gotten to live here for a third of my life, almost half, really; I was thirty-four when we moved here and I’ll be sixty-three this year. I also woke up to a fabulous thunderstorm, and I also have PT this morning–my very last session. I’ll miss the people at PhysioFit; it really was a terrific experience and they are all so friendly, helpful, and nice. It could have been so much worse…

It’s so lovely being creative again–I really was getting worried that it was gone for good. This was one of the longest fallow periods I’ve had since after Hurricane Katrina, really, and I think I will always be worried about the creativity drying up at some point; but it has always come back before so I should probably not worry about it. I’m also not used to having long fallow periods; usually it will only last about a month and then I just kick myself in the ass and get into gear again. I am hoping to get a lot of writing caught up on this weekend. I’ll be dipping in and out of S&S all weekend; not really needing to be down there until the afternoons, so I have my mornings to write before heading to the Quarter, and I am actually excited about that. I’ve also taken Monday off, to recover from the weekend and write some more.

Oh! The most important thing about last night was the night was clear after dinner. I’d taken a Lyft to the restaurant because it was raining, and I was going to take one home, too–but I decided to walk, and when I got tired or ran out of steam, would summon a driver then. Constant Reader, not only did I never run out of steam or get tired, I am not exhausted this morning, either–so I really think I may have snapped back into normalcy (for me) again. I did sleep super well after getting that writing finished (I started before leaving for dinner), and today after PT and work-at-home duties, I’m hoping to get some writing done before I head down for the opening reception at the BK (Beauregard-Keyes) House, which is beautiful; I always like going to events there. It’s across the street from the Ursulines Convent, and there’s a lovely view of it from the front porch of the BK House.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up for PT and head on out. Have a lovely Friday and–I may be back later. You never know.

A Teenager in Love

Monday morning and back to the office blog. I did write some yesterday–not nearly enough–and I did get some things done this weekend. I bought blinds for the breakfast nook, but I think they are too small; I may have to exchange them for another, larger set. Which is okay; I can do it after work one night as the Lowe’s is just up Elysian Fields. Tonight after work I have to go to the gym to do PT, and then I’m coming home to do some more writing and cleaning. Paul’s moving into the Monteleone on Wednesday, which means I’ll be here alone with the Sparkster, and also means Sparky will be very needy. He loves the cat treats I got him this weekend, no surprise there, and so I will continue to dole them out for good behavior. I feel rested this morning, which is different from most usual Monday mornings, but I think that has to do with making myself get up early Sunday morning and not sleeping late again the way I did Saturday morning.

Still, that felt amazing.

I feel pretty good this morning, too. The temperature dropped again over night, so there is a bit of a chill in the air this morning. I need to actually look at the program for S&S this weekend so I can put the stuff I am doing on my calendar and can start planning for the weekend. It’ll be weird being home alone for the long weekend (Wednesday thru Monday), but I’ve been a Festival widow since January anyway, so it probably won’t even be noticeable. I’ve also taken Monday off, as it’s always brutal getting up at six in the morning after the Festivals have concluded. It was a little odd this morning, though; Sparky usually comes and starts smacking me in the face with his paw just before the alarm goes off, and continues to do so while purring and cuddling until I get up. He didn’t come out from under the bed until I actually got out of bed, and just followed me downstairs instead of insisting on food immediately. His bowl was completely empty this morning, too.

I did write about a thousand new words on the short story yesterday, but my mind kept wandering and I got up to do something and just never went back. I also edited the 2000 words or so I had already done, so I think it was probably more new words than merely a thousand. It still feels a little rusty for me when I’m writing, but the best way to get past that is to keep writing until it starts to feel natural again and my mind stops wandering when I am writing. That’s the weirdest part. Usually when I write I shut out everything and am laser-focused, that’s not the case anymore and that’s fine.

My mind is still bouncing all over the place, too. It’s trying to spike my anxiety, too, but I just take some deep breaths and calm down, which is a lot easier to do with the new medications.

I did finish reading The Cook by Harry Kressing, which was an interesting and short read. It was a black comedy of sorts, more of a Kafka-esque fable than anything else, but in all honesty I enjoyed the movie version (Something for Everyone) a lot more than I did the book; in the book Conrad seduces everyone with his incredible food and force of will; in the movie, he’s played by a stunningly beautiful young Michael York who actually sexually seduces his prey until he gets what he wants. I will do a more in-depth review of the book at some point, but it does play into my thoughts that Saltburn owes more to that movie than it does The Talented Mr. Ripley or Brideshead Revisited.

We also finished watching season two of The Tourist, which was twisty and clever and fun and we really enjoyed it and are really looking forward to the third season–the second ended with a terrific cliffhanger twist that definitely will make for a fascinating and exciting third season. Plus, Jamie Dornan and Danielle Macdonald have some amazing chemistry together.

I also watched some documentaries last night about Jayne Mansfield, who I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I’m not entirely sure what triggered me to thinking about her again. I first read about her in Earl Wilson’s The Show Business Nobody Knows when I was a teenager, and from there went on to read May Mann’s biography of her, Jayne Mansfield. She was very interesting to me, and was thrilled when her daughter began her career as an actress. I remember thinking Mariska Hargitay? She must be Jayne Mansfield’s daughter because what are the odds of there being two Mariska Hargitays? and watched her for years on Law and Order: SVU. Oh, now I do remember. I bought a copy of the Wilson off ebay because I thought it might be helpful with Chlorine, to give me an idea of what it was like to be in show business in the 1950’s, and of course, he devoted a chapter to her. I bought another bio of her off eBay recently, and she is very interesting, as she always has been to me. I’ve only seen one film of hers, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter, which I thought was hilarious and she was fantastic in it. Benjamin Dreyer brought her up on one of the social media channels this weekend, and so I thought I’d find what I could of her on Youtube. Her story was actually perfect for someone like Jackie Collins or Jacqueline Susann to have written a huge trashy novel about, I’ve always thought. I also loved that she was actually–despite her image as a sexy dumb blonde–incredibly smart, almost genius level. And she only worked in show business for about ten years–while having four children, too, and keeping that incredible figure.

It’s funny; I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, Constant Reader, but I generally use song titles for my blog posts. About twelve years ago it was getting harder and harder to think up song titles organically, so I started using themes–Stevie Nicks songs, Pet Shop Boys songs, top 100 hits of 1977, that sort of thing. I can’t remember now which years I’ve used so I recently went back to the top 100 of 1959, I think; it’s interesting how many titles and songs have to do with teenagers; clearly, modern songwriters don’t have to write about teenage heartbreak anymore to appeal to young listeners. I also started watching Eras: The Taylor Swift Concert Movie, and I have to say I am very impressed. I can’t dedicate three and a half hours to watching it, but putting it on and listening while doing chores is terrific. Her show is amazing–I still have over an hour to watch (and am bummed she didn’t do “Red”) and I am actually looking forward to it. I also love how much right-wingers hate her.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day Constant Reader, and I may be back later, you never can be sure. I’m tricky that way!

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

Saturday morning and I was exhausted, not rising up out of bed until well past eight. Sparky tried to get me up (five a.m. for food; he doesn’t recognize Daylight Savings Time) several times–I did get up to feed him at six–before giving up and curling up to my side and going to sleep. I could hardly disturb him by getting up, could I? Plus I still felt very tired, exhausted, until I finally did get up. PT was particularly intense yesterday–I had a new therapist who was filling in for my regular–and she was just stunned, repeatedly, at how well I was doing and how strong I was, which was really nice. She kept commenting on it the entire time, which was a lovely thing for my ego and only encouraged me to keep pushing harder. I came home, worked, did some chores around here. and then ran a couple of errands after the work was done. I was exhausted (I think I did seven loads of laundry? It had built up and Friday is when I do the bed linens), and just collapsed into my chair. I finished watching Feud–I didn’t think last week’s was the final, if it did indeed end with him dying–and then watched LSU’s gymnastics team trounce North Carolina in their last meet of the season (SEC meet is next weekend) before watching this week’s Abbott Elementary and retiring to bed, exhausted. I have a busy day ahead of me–reading, writing, errands, other chores–and my house is also a mess, sigh. But I’m not going to allow all the things I need to get done to overwhelm me and thus guarantee none of it will get done.

And I definitely need to make groceries.

But I do feel tired–fatigued–in my muscles. The shoulders are fatigued, and so are my legs and my lower back feels a bit tight. Fortunately I bought that hand-held massage device (which can’t be used as a vibrator, get your head out of the gutter), so I think I am going to use it and that foam back roller today, maybe stretching a bit will help the leg fatigue. I also am going to get cleaned up this morning–shaving the face and head, which I don’t keep up with as much as I should, bad Gregalicious, bad Gregalicious. I need to get to work on myself more than anything else, and need to stop thinking “meh, good enough”. I think later on this year I’m going to have to make a trip to the outlet mall in Gonzalez and get some new clothes–dressier pants and shirts, at any rate–to go with the fancier shoes I have; I’ve never matched outfits to a couple of pairs of Oxfords, which makes wearing them more difficult–bothering my OCD–because the outfits have to be made to somehow match the shoes, and I don’t always succeed. I usually am bored by shopping for clothes; but now that I am thinking about experimenting with style, it actually sounds a bit more intriguing than it ever did before, frankly…and now that I am thinking about it more, that was undoubtedly triggered by my anxiety.

And now that I no longer have the anxiety anymore, maybe shopping for clothes will cease to be an ordeal for me. And I do love argylle.

It’s a very bright and sunny morning here in New Orleans, too–which reminds that I need to size the windows and order blinds, so I should also check on office supplies and maybe order for pick-up or delivery–and so I am feeling like I should be able to get things done today (or it’s the coffee kicking into gear here); we’ll see how it goes and how long my energy lasts–it should be a major grocery run today, but then again Paul won’t be home after Wednesday so…probably not? Heavy sigh. I guess I’ll NOT do a major grocery run today and then add things during the week that we need. I also bought a half-gallon of milk thinking we were out and SURPRISE! There was a half-gallon in the refrigerator already. AH, well.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. I have things that I need to get done this morning, and I also want to read a little bit before I dive into the day headfirst. May your Saturday be amazing and wonderful and cool, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

(Till) I Kissed You

Friday morning work at home and up early for PT blog. I slept very well last night, but didn’t get much of anything done when I got home from work. I wasn’t super tired or anything, but Scooter was feeling needy and the next thing i knew it was time for bedand I’d wasted the entire evening. But that’s okay. I’m not sure why he’s been so needy when I get home the last two nights, but he has been and I don’t mind letting him sleep in my lap so he feels loved. He’s such a darling. He also was cuddling with me in the bed this morning after the alarm started going off. Much as I miss Scooter, I’m glad we rescued this sweet playful boy.

I’ve picked out my next read, and it’s a short one, The Cook by Harry Kressing, which is the book the film Something for Everyone was based on. I think I am getting to the point where I am ready to finish my long-overdue post about Saltburn, and reading the book potentially could be a help on that score. I also want to read some of the other short books I have on hand, and hopefully that will get me deep into reading again. It would be great to spend an hour a day at least reading; the days when I used to compulsively read, and get so involved in a book that I’d blow off everything else I had to do in order to finish it. Heavy sigh. I don’t know why I’m having so much difficulty reading these days; and I do strongly suspect that the two things–inability to read and inability to write much–are very linked together. Something for me to work on this weekend, at any rate.

I had a breakthrough on the story I’ve been struggling to finish writing, and so I am hopeful that today, once I am done with work-at-home duties, will be able to dive right in and get this draft finished. I’d like to edit “When I Die” tonight as well; Lord knows I’ve printed enough hard copies of that damned story in order to get it edited easily enough soon, sheesh. I am debating changing the story a bit–why would they go out into the swamp that night, I am not convinced the reason I gave them in the original draft is good enough–and I am considering changing the make-up of the cast as well; instead of two guys and two girls, maybe three or four guys instead? A fraternity hazing ritual or something? That might be more compelling than what I had written already. I don’t know, really. I guess rereading the story will make a difference, and then start picking it apart.

I also have errands to run this weekend as well, and definitely need to wash the car again. What a glamorous life, right? But the festivals are next weekend, and I won’t be staying in the Quarter because of Sparky–who will definitely be needy–so I am not sure how much I am going to be able to get done then. Heavy heaving sigh.

I do love my new saddle shoes. I wore them to work the other day to break them in (so I can wear them next weekend) and they are so comfortable. I think maybe I am going to try to develop, this late in life, my own sense of style and start wearing the types of clothes I’ve always wanted to. I kind of want a cape coat, like the ones Barnabas wore on the original Dark Shadows, which I’ve always thought looked cool and always wanted. I am also thinking about getting a walking stick for dressier occasions, too. I’ve never really been much into clothes, primarily because I’ve always felt like men’s clothes were always too staid and patriarchal for me, so I never cared. But now that men’s clothes are getting more stylish? Sign me up. I think I want a cape, too, and a denim duster. I love the way younger male celebrities are mixing things up with their formal wear, and trying new styles and looks and I think it’s wonderful; definitely one of the best outcomes from more gender fluidity in society–and really, it’s all just drag, isn’t it?

And I kind of need to be more serious about everything to do with my career. I need to get that website finished, I need to get new author photos done, and of course all kinds of work that needs to be done on the house.

At least I’m thinking about making improvements to my life and everything, right, rather than just coasting along again and letting life happen to me?

So on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

My Heart Is an Open Book

Well, yesterday was a pretty good day overall, I think. I managed to get some writing done (about a thousand or so words, give or take) which felt amazing, if too little; and of course I went to PT after work and it actually felt good. I think the working out after therapy is going to actually take hold this time? Of course, it remains to be seen what else life is going to throw at me in the meantime, but I feel pretty good about things, overall. After I finish this book I’m writing I may step away for the rest of the year and just live for a while? I’ll still write, and I want to be clear that I am thinking in terms of time off from deadlines, really. It would be nice to finish all these unfinished things I have lying around here, and I’d also like to clean out the physical files at some point in the near future. Operation Declutter is still working, but it’s an ongoing process. I am about to put a moratorium on new books, too, unless it’s a must-read book by a friend. I really need to make more progress on getting through the mountainous TBR stack without consistently adding to it, over and over. Just this week I added Angela Crook’s Hurt Mountain and Amina Akhtar’s Almost Surely Dead and Simone St. George’s Murder Road. The question of what to read next also has not yet been answered, so it may wind up being a reread, which is actually counterproductive–but something that breaks down the wall and gets me reading every day again for pleasure would be pretty fucking fantastic.

My short story that I am writing is starting to take shape, even if my gears have rusted and need to be oiled before I can really get to work on writing again. I like what I am doing with this story–which is more horror/Gothic suspense more than anything else, really, and it’s been a really long time since I finished a story. “When I Die” still needs to be significantly edited and revised, as do so many other things. I need to get working on the book again–I came up with a great name for the Miss Queer Utah queen, but alas, forgot it already. I am actually kind of getting excited this morning to write this book. I saw a news item on social media that DeSantis’ anti-gay legislation essentially got ended by a court decision yesterday–I’ve not read the entire article yet, but it was a “settlement”, which makes it more interesting because surely that would make it a civil case, rather than a criminal one? But anything that gets Rhonda Santis’ panties in a bunch, as well as a massive defeat for his hate-filled agenda (your daily reminder, Moms for Liberty, that real patriots HATE you and your hate agenda; have fun in hell, skanks), will always make me very very happy. I also saw that the West Virginia legislature, under pressure from constituents, dropped (or allowed to die) 21 anti-queer bills.

As Winston Churchill said, “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing–after they’ve exhausted every other possibility.”

I didn’t sleep through the entire night, but woke up a couple of times but in both instances was able to fall back asleep and get some more needed rest, which was awesome. I actually woke up this morning feeling awake rather than foggy, which is simply marvelous to contemplate. Paul was working on a grant last night, so we only got to catch up on this week’s Abbott Elementary, and soon my widowhood will end when the festivals do next weekend (not this weekend) and a dear friend is coming to town this weekend, and I hope to meet her for drinks and a good gossipy catch up. I’ve also learned this morning that when the alarm goes off the first time and Sparky makes his appearance on my pillow, to just get up and feed him…because once he’s eaten, he’ll get back into the bed and cuddle like a sweet purr-kitty, which is lovely. I really have fallen completely in love with this crazy kitty, which makes losing Scooter ever so much easier. Losing him made rescuing Sparky possible, and I imagine I will always have a cat for the rest of my life, maybe even a bonded pair at some point after Sparky goes–assuming, of course, that I will outlive Sparky.

Some more things that I ordered arrived yesterday after I picked up the mail, so I’ll have to swing by there again this afternoon, which is fine. I have to get gas, too, so it makes sense to swing uptown, come back downtown via Tchoupitoulas, and then the Shell on Jackson Avenue on the way home. Tomorrow is also payday, which is lovely–pay-the-bills day, at any rate–and then I need to start prepping for my Saints and Sinners panel. There’s always something to do, isn’t there? I also need to stop by Physiofit and pay my bill, too. I got another camera ticket yesterday, which is super-annoying–but it gave me an idea for a story or a subplot for a Scotty book, so that’s a good thing, right?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely be back again later.

Mr. Blue

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

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

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

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

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

Stagger Lee

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

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

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

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

Heavy heaving sigh.

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

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

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

Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Yesterday was one of those days.

If you will recall, I woke up feeling pretty good yesterday and was all amped to get to the office and get to work. As I pulled into my parking spot for the day I got a text message notification: the building had no power. Sigh. Since I was already there, I texted my supervisor that I had arrived and should I wait? (You never can be sure when power will be restored in New Orleans and there are any number of variables involved that you can’t calculate.) Apparently the outage was cause because someone in the Bywater neighborhood took a chain saw to a power pole? #idiot

But the power came back at around nine thirty-ish, so I sat there for two hours waiting, and of course, once you stop moving when you’re feeling ambitious, it’s not easy to kick everything back into gear and get moving again. Sigh. But I did get my work going again, which was great, and then when I got off work I came home for a ZOOM chat with some writer friends that I don’t see enough of as it is. It also struck me yesterday that when Bouchercon comes to New Orleans, I don’t have to register. I live here, and can see my out-of-town friends whenever I want to and just hang out in the hotel lobby. So…my future attendance and registration is going to depend on changes being made to the dinosaur the event is, hopefully dragging it into the twenty-first century or at least make steps to making it a more inclusive place.

Beginning with no more fucking diversity panels–which they are doing again in Nashville.

There are few things that make diverse writers feel welcome at conferences more than putting them on display like fucking zoo animals.

And the code of conduct? I don’t have any confidence that they will respond to any complaints made to them–I’ve seen how they’ve mishandled things in the past–so why on earth would I believe that they’d take a complaint from me about the Very Important Writer who said “faggy” to me face a couple of time and act on it? “Oh, it was in the bar” would be the first response, and you know what? Having a code of conduct is meaningless when you don’t have the balls to enforce it. For the record, going into a hotel bar and having a few drinks doesn’t make a Very Important Author using a homophobic slur to me okay.

Likewise, I had another incredibly uncomfortable experience at Left Coast Crime the one time I went–both racist and homophobic–that sometime I will have to share here. (And yes, I am white–but the woman assumed I wasn’t…it really is a story best told in its entirety at some point. And yes, I’m still shaking my head over it. In-SANE. Almost two years ago to the day, really, and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. I think the reason I haven’t posted about it because I’m not sure how a white man writes about racism he’s experienced? (For the record, I wasn’t offended because she didn’t think I was white, it was about her approach and what followed–including doubling down on the racism and going to town on homophobia– that I still can’t wrap my mind around.)

It was also pouring rain when I came home, so thank heavens I left early for PT…only to get home and think ugh, I am not walking to the gym in this downpour with the streets flooding, so I’ll have to go after work tonight. It shouldn’t be bad, no matter how crowded it may be, because my workout is actually pretty simple and quick and easy. (Not easy, but definitely can be done quickly and I don’t have to really take up a lot of space, is what I meant. I think there’s only one machine I have to use.) The streets were flooding too–I had to drive through some standing water, fortunately not too deep–and guess what? We’re having a thunderstorm right now, but it doesn’t seem as though it’s as bad as last night. I guess I’ll find out on my way to work this morning? Not a very appealing thought, really.

And on that sad note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in again later I am sure.

Come Softly to Me

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

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

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

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

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