Category: working out

Don’t Cry Out Loud

..when you check your 401k. I checked mine yesterday, which is risk-adverse and there’s not much in it, and it was still a shock. Mine had declined in value by 10%–and it’s risk averse. I can only imagine what happened to those that were higher risk/higher reward but also higher potential for loss.

Remember how the Republicans have always wanted to make social security investment accounts, just like they changed pensions to investment accounts under Reagan? How’s that working out for y’all? They have never had the best interests of the American people at heart, ever.

Gah.

We’re supposed to have thunderstorms all day today, which will be a nice way of dealing with the humidity we’ve been “enjoying” over the last few weeks. It’s also supposed to be in the fifties at night this week, which means better sleep. I slept pretty well this weekend, Sparky getting me up early for food but I’ve also been going to bed early every night; really getting tired around nine these last few nights and dozing off in the bed. We finished watching The Residence last night, which I highly recommend. It’s a witty, well done, and deeply clever murder mystery set in the White House, and it’s very Agatha Christie. WE then started watching season three of The White Lotus, which everyone has been talking about; we’d started season one but gave up after the first episode. Parker Posey is perfectly cast, as is everyone else; and God, Patrick Schwarzenegger’s character is such a douche bro; I despise him so far, about three or four episodes in? LSU also won their regional final yesterday was yet another score over 198.00; this is their sixth straight competition with a score of that or higher–and they left points on the board yesterday. GEAUX TIGERS!

I just looked out the windows and the sidewalk is wet, and it hasn’t rained…which means the humidity must be getting unbearable outside. I am looking forward to the thunderstorms arriving, because that’s when I am going to curl up under my blankets and read some more. I wanted to go to yesterday’s protests, but correctly assessed in the morning that I was fatigued, and other than some chores, I wasn’t going to get much of anything done. I’d planned to run an errand, but stayed inside and rested, hence the television bingeing. I hate that I wasn’t able to go; but I feel rested and good this morning (so far) so maybe it will last and I can get things done. There was insane turnout yesterday all across the country (and even across Louisiana!), and of course, it was largely ignored by State Media (Fox) and State Media-lite (everyone else). The utter failure of the legacy media to meet this moment in US History will be studied for centuries, provided the coming collapse of the United States doesn’t result in the world being plunged into a reoccurrence of the Dark Ages.

I hate that I am now so old that I can’t even go to protests anymore. But the massive turnout nation-wide yesterday gives me some hope–even as cishet white people don’t seem to quite understand what protests are, and they can be dangerous? Especially under this administration? Everyone who actually was able to attend yesterday was basically putting their bodies, lives and freedom on the line to take a stand; for those of you who still don’t get it try googling Kent State, or any of the protest marches in Alabama in the 1960s. The insanity I saw yesterday on social media–I still can’t believe the “bouncy house” thread was serious–just is another indication of why most marginalized communities don’t trust the cishet whites. One of the reasons I don’t feel sympathy for any MAGA voter with regrets or pulling the “I didn’t vote for this” Pilate handwashing of their crimes–is because you did vote for this. He didn’t lie to you about any of this. He told you he was going to do all of this, but he did lie about everyone getting rich; but…he was talking about rich people and corporations, not the voters who worship him. Sorry not sorry I don’t believe your claims that you aren’t transphobic or racist or homophobic now and were just misled; any rational adult could see you were being given Flavor-Ade to drink and were lapping it all up and asking for more. I feel so owned, you have no idea.

And on that cheery note, I am going to head into the spice mines while I wait for the thunderstorms to arrive (although the sun has just come out again). I have cleaning to do and taxes to organize, and I had hoped to make it to the gym today…but my shoulder is feeling sore again, so probably best to stay home and rest it, I guess. I hate being frail. I doubt I’ll be back before the morrow, so have a lovely Sunday fun day and I will see you in the morning.

Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)

Saturday morning and I have a couple of errands to do this morning. I need to go by the bank (I haven’t made a deposit in person in eons) and I have to swing by the grocery store. Sigh. I really didn’t want to leave the house today, but here we are. It’s also a struggle these days to get through as we go through and experience the collapse of the American experiment in self-rule. I think another significant part of our history that isn’t taught the way it should be is we aren’t taught about how many Tories there were in the colonies during the lead up to and aftermath of the Revolution. We aren’t taught New England threatened to secede during the War of 1812, or that there were people on both sides of the Civil War1 that sympathized with the other side; North and South weren’t monoliths the way we are taught. We aren’t taught about how many Americans were Nazi sympathizers and isolationists before Pearl Harbor, using the slogan “America First”–so you see why I have always raised a cynical eyebrow whenever anyone uses that slogan; it was tied to Nazi sympathizers to me.

Watching the collapse of our country is challenging and more than a little bit depressing. It is terrible that just as I approach the age of retirement and the final chapter of my life…well, the retirement may turn out to be involuntary, as my clinic’s funding is definitely on the chopping block, Social Security is about to be looted and destroyed, and I don’t want to even look at the paltry 401k, which has also probably evaporated. No job and no retirement funds is going to be awesome when I turn 64. Paul got the notice from the NEH to not bother applying for grant funding, as it’s all been cut, so his job may not survive this, either–no more festivals in the spring. So, miss me with “we need to be nice to MAGA voters now finding out”–fuck them now and forever. I will never forgive them, and their suffering lightens mine. You want to embrace them, be my guess. Me? I will never stop laughing and pointing, let alone mocking them and enjoying their tears. My patience has worn out for ignorant haters, sorry not sorry– and as they so eloquently put it, “fuck your feelings.”

Yesterday was a nice day, overall. I got up, had a virtual meeting at work, and then did my Admin work before running some errands. I got that done, and then Paul and I made a Costco run and spent an insane amount of money. After getting home, lugging everything into the house and putting it all away, I was tired. I collapsed into my chair for a while as Paul went upstairs to work on the NEH grant–but got the email so didn’t have to bother for the rest of the evening and we dove further into The Residence, which I am greatly enjoying. Uzo Adoba is fantastic as Cordelia Copp, the world’s greatest detective, and it’s very well cast, high production values, and the writing is quite crisp. The chief usher at the White House (the divine Giancarlo Esposito) is murdered during a state dinner, and Cordelia is brought in to solve the murder. I think what’s most interesting is the divide between the White House domestic staff v. the White House political staff; the domestics work for the House, the political staff comes and goes. I’d never really thought much about the staff of the residence, so it’s an interesting look at how that all works, and it’s very cleverly structured. Highly recommend.

I do have some errands to do today, and a lot of straightening up to do as well. I want to get some reading and writing in this morning, so I can go to the gym tomorrow (I know, right?) and get some more done. I’ve been letting things slide a lot lately, which probably means I am depressed, which isn’t surprising, given the state of the world and everything else going on in my life. I think there’s an element of why bother with this book, to be honest, which is counter-productive and quite self-destructive, but it’s hard to be productive when your default is almost always pessimism. I always knew Republicans were working very hard to destroy everything decent about this country (unfettered capitalism is sociopathic in nature), but I never dreamed they might actually succeed. To paraphrase Game of Thrones: “Whenever I wonder why the Republicans would do something so counter-productive to democracy, I like to play a little game: what is the worst reason they would want to do this?”

Littlefinger was right, even if he did end up with his throat slit for his treachery.

Yesterday I also realized that one of the great American traditions, going back to colonial days, of evading paying duties and tariffs was smuggling. I used to love to read about Colonial smugglers (John Hancock was one), and some great fiction was built up around smuggling. I’ve always thought the years of Prohibition (and alcohol smuggling) in New Orleans would be an interesting time to write about. That decade saw the rise of Huey Long to power in Louisiana, and there are some fantastic stories about that post-Storyville time here. Jean Lafitte was a pirate, too–but he was also a very successful smuggler. But again, one of the great problems of New Orleans/Louisiana research is going down wormholes and sidebars–my ADHD does not matters at all in this regard; I do remember wanting to write about “Mrs. Officer,” the first woman cop in New Orleans, who was hired because they needed a woman to search and interrogate criminal women, which was a problem during Storyville days. I mean, what a great decade to research and write about! Imagine what “Mrs. Officer”2 endured in terms of misogyny as the only woman cop in an era where women couldn’t vote.

There’s also a protest today scheduled in New Orleans, as well as around the country. I’m hoping to make it, it just depends on how tired I am after getting things done this morning. I feel pretty good right now, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t flag later, either.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you most likely tomorrow morning.

  1. This is a classic example of why I say we don’t teach history properly (which will end up being a longer-form essay for my newsletter at some point). There were plenty of Tories during the American Revolution. There were Southern sympathizers in the North and Unionists in the South–I knew about the North, but whenever I’d come across that about the South I figured it was after-the-fact apologia, excusing Southern whites for their inhumanity. But over the least few years as I’ve done more deep dives into Alabama history, and hearing more old family stories, I’ve come to realize it was actually true. Erik Larson discusses this in more detail in his The Demons of Unrest, which I do recommend. ↩︎
  2. SHe was always referred to as “Mrs. Officer,” which also makes a great title. ↩︎

Take Me Back

Saturday morning and I feel rather well rested this morning. I wound up, of all things, sleeping on my left arm weirdly (on my stomach with arm across my chest) and this morning, it doesn’t feel either sore or tight. I knew it needed to be stretched, but this is very good news, meaning I can go back to the gym again tomorrow. I was very tired all day yesterday, too. I got my remote work done, ran some errands, and came home to write for a bit, but my brain was too cloudy for me to get anything done, really. I eventually gave up and sat down in my chair with Sparky to watch the LSU Gymnastics meet (they scored 198.00, which is a GREAT team score and something they didn’t do last year until towards the end of the season), and then we got caught up on Abbott Elementary before catching up on the news (always a mistake these days) and going to bed. I managed to get my chores done, and still haven’t made that to-do list yet–but hope springs eternal and hopefully I’ll get that done today, too. We shall see, but right now I feel pretty good. I hope it lasts.

Man, the kitchen is a mess this morning…well, the entire downstairs at any rate. But I will get that done as I write today. I do have to run a couple of errands today, so that will probably slow my progress down today, like it always does, but at least there’s nothing on television for me to get sucked into today, like tennis or gymnastics or figure skating or anything of that nature. So I have no excuse to not get things done today, right? That’s what I think, too. But it’s easy to get distracted and it’s even easier to get lazy and distracted. SO the key today is to not read the news or let our slide into fascism, aided and abetted by a legacy media that is not up to their jobs–or onboard with it all, like Fox, Newsmax, and OANN–not to mention a wimpy Democratic party that has essentially betrayed its donors and its voters and are now on-board with appeasement and sycophancy–so we’re basically on our own. The Democrats have been essentially spineless (with a few exceptions) my entire adult life, and now the party leadership can’t read the room and refuses to move aside for the bright young crop of future leaders; I’d rather fail fighting than fail rolling over playing dead. I have seen this, over and over, my entire life and yes, they have failed the country. Most of my ire is directed at the Far Reich, of course, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept the ineffectual leadership of the party anymore–and I sure as FUCK aren’t giving them another cent of my money. At this point, it’s simply throwing more good money down the drain for nothing. I’ve been waiting for results since I was twenty and have been disappointed repeatedly. If living as a gay American has taught me anything, it’s that being polite and being nice while working for change doesn’t work. It takes action, protests, and people willing to put their bodies on the line for it. ACT UP didn’t place nice, and they got results, didn’t they?

We need more Ted Kennedys and AOCs, not more Amy Klobuchars or John Fettermans (neither of whom will ever be president). Instead of fighting with policy, they are always playing defense, and badly at that. I honestly think their approach to opposition now is to cave on everything and let everyone suffer, while hoping things will get so bad we’ll win the midterms and 2028, in a repeat of 2006 and 2008. That isn’t leadership, for the record–although I am past the point of letting it all burn to the ground quickly so we can rebuild our new country out of the ashes of the old. Enough of this slow strangulation of freedom already.

And if anyone thinks I will ever mention Sean Duffy without making a reference to The Real World-Boston or Real World/Road Rules Challenges, they are very much mistaken.1

But somehow, I’ve managed to make it to sixty-three, which I never thought would happen. That should count for something, right? I’m kind of like Cher, I think–somehow I manage to keep going on. That’s the thing I suppose I cling to, my cockroach-like survival techniques. I never think bad things can’t happen to me–they certainly do enough times, and one thing I have learned over the course of hurricanes and hate crimes and death threats is that you can’t imagine bad things happening until they do, and so far I’ve managed to keep my few shreds of sanity intact, and knowing that I have somehow managed to get through it all somehow. I guess I’m a survivor? I certainly do have survivor’s guilt, for sure. I can never reconcile the randomness of my survival, either. I don’t think I did because I have some important role to play in the world, either–it’s literally one of those random things that happen people always try to find meaning in, when the truth is our lives, for the most part, are meaningless, but our egos are too fragile for any of us to consider we’re unimportant in the overall scheme of human and world history. I have no expectations of being remembered for long after I die, either. People will think it’s sad and then move on and forget me.

And I’m okay with that. My ego doesn’t require me to “live forever,” although I guess the books will, maybe.

And on that cheery note, I will head into the spice mines. I am going to read for a bit after I clean up in here, after which I will write, run my errands, and come home to read or write some more. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow or even later today; it depends, does it not?

  1. And for the record, I don’t think I’ll be flying anywhere for a long time. ↩︎

I Want Candy

Work at home Friday, and I don’t want candy, at least not yet. Let me swill down my coffee first before I head for the jelly beans I bought this week as a treat. I‘m hoping that today will be a good day, and I’ll get a lot done. I was very tired yesterday; I hit the wall around noon, and even eating lunch didn’t really help at all. I did run some errands on the way home, but once I was home I was completely a frazzle so I simply collapsed into my easy chair and caught up on my reality television. Reality television really fulfills a need for television that doesn’t require you to think much other than to be judgmental of the behavior you’re seeing on the screen; and I do kind of enjoy the childish antics. I wouldn’t want to be friends with any of these women–not sure that I would even want to know them, in all honesty–which is interesting; but the nonsense is kind of addicting, but I do hate when they just scream over each other. I know this is why we watch, but for me the worst part is there’s rarely any karmic payback for rotten behavior–and as long as we keep watching, they encourage it. One of the more tasteless aspects of the Real Housewives franchises is how regularly they resort to homophobia for story-lines; this has been happening far too regularly on programs overseen by an actual gay man (my loathing for Andy Cohen runs very deep), and yet I still watch. Not sure what that says about me, but in these interesting times the last thing I need or want to do is take away anything that can distract me from the collapse of the American experiment.

Today I only have to work about a half-day from my desk here in the Lost Apartment; I have a meeting, some forms to go over, and some trainings to get done. After that, I’m probably going to run to the post office, pick up a prescription, and potentially swing by the grocery for a few things. I also need to write and I also need to clean. My shoulder feels tight this morning, too–not sure what that’s about, but I’m going to use the massage gun on it when I finish this and see if that loosens it up a bit; but I don’t think the gym is wise until I have a better read on what’s going on with that muscle. Ugh. I really dislike feeling feeble, but I also have to cope with not being who I was physically five years ago. Part and parcel of getting older, of course, and I need to resist feeling bad about not being able to do what I could when I was in my thirties or forties or even my fifties anymore. That’s how life works, after all, and since I have already lived far longer than I ever thought I would–I thought I wouldn’t make it to forty, honestly–I need to stop regretting new limitations and make them work for me rather than against me. My focus isn’t quite as sharp as it was before I had COVID–I still don’t know if it was long or short, but the effects I felt while testing positive–low energy, no short-term memory, feeling fatigue like never before–are still there. Was it from the COVID, or was it turning sixty? Who knows? I just know that was when my life first changed for the worst.

I still haven’t made that to-do list yet, either. But I did manage to get caught up on everything at work yesterday, which is always a relief; so I don’t have to play catch-up at all on Monday, which is great. January ends today, but I am not grateful that this hellish month is finally ending; because experience has taught me that things can always get worse. This administration has hung a target on the back of anyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender man–as some white women are finding out; you and your special needs children? DEI. You fucked around and found out, didn’t you? And think how happy and smug and proud you were when you pulled the lever for that fucking bastard, and how you were sticking it to “the fags and the transgenders and the dirty Mexicans and the Blacks”…yeah, no one’s a winner when it comes to fascism other than the straight white cisgender male, but I’ve given up trying to convince people to vote intelligently for the candidates that will work the hardest for them and do the most for them, rather than the emotionally stunted vote to punish other people gleefully. White people would rather fuck themselves over completely if it means fucking over people they don’t like or fear because they’re tribal morons who haven’t evolved into decency.

I think the biggest disadvantage we are at in this ongoing struggle is there is no real queer national media. Our so-called national news magazines long ago sold their sold their souls and consciences and commitments to the community; I used to joke how Out and The Advocate went from being our Time and Newsweek to our People and Us Weekly. When this happened about twenty-five or so years ago, I despaired. During the Bush administration wasn’t the time for the two queer publications with the biggest circulation in the country to go from news to lifestyle and celebrity culture–because we definitely needed more of those. Every day I get emails from queer websites promising me “thirst traps” of celebrities or hot guys from Instagram which is always a pleasant diversion, but…oh, maybe try to do a better job rallying the community and making them aware of their rights and what we can do to protect ourselves and so forth? But yes, pics of celebrities wearing gray sweatpants without underwear is what we need to “parch our thirst.” Can’t imagine where the stereotype that gay men are vapid and shallow and think with their dicks comes from.1

There’s definitely a need for that sort of thing, but it really can’t be everything, you know? And there’s no greater act of protest against this regime than finding joy in our sexuality and our exploits. Every time you have queer sex, it’s a protest–but we also can’t have sex twenty-four hours per day (no matter how much we try, and believe me, I have), and there’s more going on that we should be paying attention to?

The decline of the media was foreshadowed by the decline of queer media, almost like it was the canary in the coal mine. But it happened, and here we are.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday and I will be back on the morrow, most like.

  1. Not that there’s anything wrong with that–but hot guys and dick shots and so forth aren’t all we do and think about and hey, we’re capable of holding more than one thought in our brains. Who knew? ↩︎

Keep Searchin’ (We’ll Follow the Sun)

It feels weird to be up this early this morning, with it dark outside and Sparky whining for breakfast. But it’s a return to normality, after a planned three day holiday weekend turned into a bizarre week of working at home for about eight hours total. I feel very disoriented, too. I’ve lost track of days and dates and so forth, and am running very short on time for a lot of things I could have either gotten done or made more progress on than I did over the last week. Ah, well, c’est la vie. It’s warm this morning–in the sixties!–and it looks like our weather is returning to normal, for now. Good, because I don’t want to deal with any more snow this year. Last week was fun and novel; it would get old and tired very quickly. I didn’t have trouble getting up this morning, either. My shoulder still feels a bit weird this morning, so I think I may let it have another day of rest. I also think I might need to rest more between sets; I still try to go as quickly as I can (a mindset I need to break, everything takes time, alas, but at least I am identifying old behaviors that need breaking) but need to stop doing that because it’s overtaxing the arm a bit at the shoulder joint, which isn’t much fun. Still adapting to the aftermath of that injury, I guess, which is annoying as fuck. But it’s also another reminder than I’m older and my body doesn’t react to exercise the way it used to, so everything must go slowly.

I am finally being forced to learn patience, and it is very difficult for an old dog to learn new tricks.

And I am sure that being at work today is going to be more than a little challenging.

But I don’t feel tired the way I usually do, and I feel like I’m going to be able to get quite a bit done today, once I get to the office and remember where we are on everything. Yay. This unexpected week away from the office really was kind of a reset in a way; I feel more rested and ready to deal with everything that I personally need to get back to work on. I have gotten so behind, and even this weekend I was still in a bit of snow stupor and didn’t get as much done as I would have liked this weekend, as usual. But…maybe now I can get my act together? Stranger things have happened. I also started reading She Who Was No More, and I have to say, I fucking love this French style of writing that was so heavily influenced by film noir and writers like James M. Cain. It may even work for another book idea I have, which is even more exciting–but I really do need to finish this Scotty before I even should be thinking in terms of future work.

Heavy heaving sigh. I’ll probably finish this later. Clearly, I’ve not taken my pills yet today because I am already feeling anxious, and the coffee isn’t helping. Yes, I will finish when I get home from work tonight.

Well, here we are on Tuesday morning, and I think I was a little overly optimistic about how I felt yesterday morning. It wasn’t like I was fatigued or anything, but I was very unfocused all day, and easily distracted–so my ADHD was kicking into gear yesterday. I didn’t remember to take my medications until well into the day, and I think that had a lot to do with it. I just could not finish a task once I’d started it without being interrupted, and then after the interruption I’d forget what I was originally doing in the first place. It was…challenging, to say the least, and I was very tired when I got home. We ended up starting Murder in a Small Town, which had some moments, but I wasn’t too terribly interested in continuing with it again…I was under the impression it was one of those series where the case took up the entire season, but no–it’s murder of the week, and again–the crime rate in the town is about to go up exponentially. And while the season-long stories sometimes feel a bit padded, they’re more involving. Producers/writers: watch Harlan Coben’s series adapted from his books; these stand alone episodic crime stories are so great. Now send me a thousand dollars for the excellent advice on how to improve your shows.

Since the swearing-in of President Greg Stillson last week, the dismantling of our country for spare parts to sell off has been incredibly overwhelming, and I don’t blame people for shutting down and not knowing what to do. It’s also been shocking to see how many theoretically decent people have decided to throw away said decency (which was clearly always a facade; anyone who could ally themselves with this criminal administration, for whatever reason, is a quisling and a collaborationist at best, and pure evil at worst) and suck up to power. It’s always disappointing when people you may have been a fan of turn out to be enormous disappointments; which is one of the many reasons I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone…because no matter what, they will always disappoint you. I was never a particular fan of Jewel, but I didn’t hate her or have much of an opinion about her. She never crossed my mind. But she chose to dance before the corrupt court, showing everyone in the country who she was, what she stood for, and what her values and beliefs are. I guess she had a big queer fanbase and didn’t like the backlash she was getting for cosplaying Leni Reifenstahl and decided to release a video apologizing to the “people she hurt, especially the LGBTQ+ community”–you know, the non-apology garbage people when a really bad decision blows up in their face, because they are so egotistical they think they can explain why they committed the offense in the first place, and pat them on the back for their noble sacrifice.

I mean, seriously. I can’t with people like that, you know?

So when a friend on a social media account reposted the Jewel “not apology” bullshit, I commented. I only did so because she specifically mentioned MY community in with her bullshit faux-ally shit, and I am sorry, I will not let this pass without comment. I replied with well, this gay man wants nothing to do with either her or her apology or her fake-ass straight white woman tears. You showed us who you are and we believe you. Live with it.

I did this in, of all place, the parking lot of the grocery store–I’d gotten some mention-alerts, so I was looking through them and then went back to the home page, where I saw the Jewel post. While I was in the checkout line, waiting my turn, I pulled out my phone and did what I always do–check my email, look at the mentions, scroll if there’s nothing else to do. I had an alert that I had been tagged or replied to on the social media platform, but when I tried to see the response to my Jewel comment, there was nothing available to see. That’s odd, I thought, and put my phone back away because it was my turn.

When I got home and put the groceries away was when I saw that someone had screen-capped it and shared it with me….because the woman had posted it, turned off replies, and hid it from me.

What the actual hell?

I didn’t think trolling could possibly get more pathetic and sad than it already was; but now I know there’s an even lower level for them to take an escalator down to. I mean, all trolling is performative, but imagine being so performative and then hiding it all from the person you’re going after? What a fucking coward, seriously.

I also spent about twenty-four hours wondering why she called me a “gay back man,” because I am really oblivious and very literal. I honestly thought it was some kind of “bottom-shaming” you-take-it-up-the-ass douche-bagger homophobic way, and didn’t put it together until the next day when I was telling Paul about it. (In my defense, he did also say “what the hell is a gay back man?” at first.) He figured it out: I said straight white woman, so the troll said gay black man but made a typo, and since “back” is a word, autocorrect didn’t alert her.

I mean, I’m not offended when someone thinks I’m Black. I really don’t; but this also sent my mind wandering down another path. I mean, I want to be prepared the next time it happens. It did make me start wondering–I’ve always wondered if the way people have treated me over the years has been homophobic when they aren’t nice or friendly or bare-bones professional. I’ve long accepted that my gayness can be seen from space. But was there something else at play, too?

I really am tired of living in interesting times.

Ooh Baby Baby

Sunday morning and it feels cold here in the workspace again. I slept later than I’d intended (getting up at my usual time for work is going to be horrific tomorrow), but we’re still getting back to normal around here. I drove uptown yesterday to get the mail, and most of the snow is gone (bits here and there that haven’t melted yet). I made groceries, too, but I was right about the store being picked over; no deliveries had been made yet, but I didn’t need to get much in the first place, which was great. I was still exhausted when I got back home, so I settled in and watched the US Figure Skating Championships with Paul before we moved on to season 2 of The Night Agent, which is fun enough (I remember loving the first season, but am not loving the second as much as the first. but the main character, played by Gabriel Basso, is very sexy). I didn’t write anything yesterday because I was so tired, and my brain was a bit too fried to read anything. My shoulder was also very sore, and it feels tight and uncomfortable this morning, so I might push today’s gym visit to either later on today or later in the week. I’ll probably try to read some more this morning, and I’ve pretty much zeroed in on She Who Was No More as my next read because it’s French, so completely different (most likely) than most crime novels, especially those of its time. And my next read, methinks, won’t be in the crime family; I have books by Celeste Ng, Jami Attenberg, Valerie Martin, and Ann Hood in the stack, so general fiction next rather than genre.

I also read this marvelous thread about Huckleberry Finn that reminded me that 1) I’ve never read it, and 2) I really should. I was never really interested in Mark Twain as a writer when I was growing up; we were force-fed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in junior high, and I absolutely hated that book; Tom was an asshole and thoroughly unlikable (I’ve always read books and watched film/TV with this perspective: would I like them in real life? I hated Tom, and the only character in the book I actually cared about was Huck, because he seemed decent–certainly more so than Tom, which was an interesting early lesson in how there’s no reward in life for virtue; Tom was acceptable to people as an orphan being raised by his aunt–whereas Huck was “trash”, despite his bad circumstances of having a criminal father and very poor and from the outside of “society.” The only thing I really took away from reading Tom Sawyer was that society, and it’s thoughts and opinions, were really stupid and required behaving towards people based on a caste system that did not tell whether someone was actually a good or bad person, and how wrong castes in a civilized society are–and really, how unAmerican society can actually be (I’ve always hated snobs, mainly because I am usually the one on the receiving end of their scorn)…which, fifty years later, can concede was a pretty good lesson. But I couldn’t get over how the teacher was trying to push Tom on us as a comic hero–which seemed to encourage that kind of behavior–and never liked Tom and have had no desire to revisit the book, and it also kept me from reading more Twain (we also had to read the jumping frog story, which I also hated) for well over a decade–and it’s why I also have never read Huckleberry Finn.1 When I did come back to Twain in my mid-twenties, I read the lesser known books–Pudd’nhead Wilson, The Prince and the Pauper, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and the essay collection Life on the Mississippi2—but never got around to Huck; maybe because it was praised so highly? I should probably correct that this year, and I should probably finally read A Confederacy of Dunces, too. Sigh. I know, I know, I’ve never read the great American novel or the great New Orleans novel. Maybe this year.

The NFL conference championship games are today, and I only care because I’d really enjoy seeing Jayden Daniels go to the Super Bowl and make history as a rookie; one of the great pleasures of this past football season is seeing the Washington fans–and the NFL, really–fall in love with LSU’s Heisman Trophy winner. I don’t know if they’ll beat the Eagles today or not, but hey, when was the last time the Commanders3 made it this far? I won’t watch another team in the play-offs–feels too much like cheating on the Saints–but I look forward to hearing the scores later on today.

I’m actually looking forward to going back to work this week, believe it or not. This unexpected weather-related week at home was a lovely and pleasant surprise, but at the same time I like having structure to my life. Yeah, it’s very easy to not be motivated when you’re at home and have things to do, but if it was a permanent condition I’d do better with it.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Cleaning to do, coffee to drink, and lots of writing and reading to get caught up on, so I am going to bid you adieu this morning and…may be back later. One never can be sure, after all. Have a lovely Sunday!

  1. When books are overhyped to me, I end up being disappointed by them. ↩︎
  2. The essays are actually kind of brilliant. ↩︎
  3. I’m also really tired of the racist fans who won’t let go of the old team name. You lost, get over it. ↩︎

Do You Believe in Magic

Saturday morning and here we are in the Lost Apartment as New Orleans slowly shakes off it’s blizzard break and returns to what passes as normalcy around here. As I look outside this morning after sleeping really late this morning (I was tired, okay?), the snow is almost completely gone. Yesterday after work I did go to the gym, and we did go to Costco, so I was pretty worn out when that was all completed and didn’t get anything else much done once we got home. We got one of those pre-made Costco pizzas (they really are quite good) which made for an easy dinner, which we ate while watching LSU Gymnastics; they were off last night, alas–but were also missing some of their best athletes. We’d started watching Prime Target on Apple Plus (queer main character? Oh hell to the yes, thank you very much), which we are also enjoying, but…I don’t think we watched anything other than news clips after the meet ended and before we went to bed? I also did my usual Friday chores around here, too–yay, me. Today I need to write and I need to run some errands. I wanted to go make groceries today, but am thinking I may need to wait for a few more days, after the stores are able to take deliveries and restock their shelves; even Costco looked a little picked over yesterday–we still spent over four hundred, and I forgot to look at the price of eggs–and there wasn’t too much traffic, despite the highways and interstate still being closed. I am pretty sure the city is back to what passes for normal around here today. Its cold outside, but sunny and the sky is blue, so whatever bits of snow that are left from the blizzard (it still feels weird saying that, you know?) will most likely melt off today.

It’s been quite a year already, and it’s not even fucking February yet. 2024 seems like it was last century already. This weird past week, though, as I said the other day, was a much needed respite, a forced period of rest for a city still reeling from starting the year with a terrorist attack, with both the Super Bowl and Carnival still on the horizon. I feel like I also kind of needed it, myself–I feel a lot more rested than I did last weekend, of course, and I do think returning to the office on Monday is a nice return to my usual routine. I need to work on the book this weekend as well as some other writing projects that need doing, and of course there are always chores to be done. I did the bed linens and two loads of laundry yesterday, got the sink all cleared out, and finally was able to do some more cleaning around here, too. Tomorrow I’ll walk back over to the gym for another workout–my shoulder and arm are tight and sore a lot more these days, so I am taking it easy for another week before advancing the workout to the next step. I am getting some exercise in, I am burning calories, and so my physical goals should be much easier to achieve this year than in years past. I am feeling more centered than I have in years.

It was also delightful this morning to see that Madison Keys won the Australian Open; good on you, girl! The US even had a man in the semi-finals, too. I’ve not been as big a tennis fan lately as I used to be; the Williams sisters and Rafa retiring left a big gap, and I don’t know many of the players as well as I used to. I guess I’m kind of a homer when it comes to international sport…but it just seems like there’s not been any newer players coming along with the kind of charismatic star power the Williams sisters (and Rafa) had. I really don’t follow figure skating as much as I used to, either; Paul and I primarily focus on US ice dance, of all things; who knew that would gradually become our strongest discipline? We’d even forgotten that US Nationals were this weekend (congratulations to Amber Glenn for winning again), but now that we do know, we can actually watch this weekend (thank God for streaming, right?).

The world continues to burn to the ground all around us, and what else is there left to say? The surrender of everyone to MAGA, from corporations to celebrities to the press, the capitulation in advance, went exactly the way it did in Germany in the 1930s. That’s yet another reason why I think being a writer in these trying times means being an activist. My books, my stories, about queer life through a crime or horror lens, kind of are important in that regard, and as I get older and I become more and more progressive (yes, I am going the opposite direction of the trope that everyone becomes more conservative as they age; hey, don’t blame my generation for the fucking Boomers who sold out everything they believed in after college) I find myself dancing around things in my work. And yes, I do want MAGA voters to suffer, and am saving all my empathy and sympathy for the victims of MAGA voters. I have no sympathy for mediocrities who need the state to made them feel better about their snowflake loser selves, and laughed excitedly about how they were fucking us over. I’m supposed to not want them to suffer the consequences of their actions? People who enjoy the suffering of others and voted for inhumanity? You can miss me with that kind of moral superiority, and if that’s you, just because you think you’re morally superior doesn’t mean you actually are.

And your education certainly doesn’t make you more intelligent and more moral than anyone else. All that means is you knew how to perform for professors by giving them what they wanted, kissing their ass, and not questioning them–which I did all the time, earning their enmity, and the little Napoleons in college English departments aren’t very interested in opinions other than their own correct ones, and punished me accordingly. (I have more publications than all of my professors, across all disciplines.) I don’t like to talk myself up (sing out, Louise!) because it seems arrogant and egocentric, and I don’t like those parts of my personality very much, but yes, I do have more publications than all of my instructors I’ve had throughout the course of my life, so…forgive me for interpreting essays, stories and books differently than a boring Lit professor’s1 (or writing teacher’s) dogmatic devotion to closing their eyes to any new interpretation. I’ve also always felt that you don’t learn by memorizing things; you learn by examining them, thinking about them, and evaluating. Theory is great, but implementation is far far better and way more important.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back at some point.

  1. As long as I live, I will never forgot my Shakespeare professor, talking about the many versions of Hamlet Shakespeare wrote, and how in earlier drafts Queen Gertrude was complicit in the murder of her husband and how that changed. The professor insisted that Shakespeare did this deliberately; which made Hamlet’s dilemma even worse–could he trust his mother? I raised my hand, and pointed out that at the time Hamlet was put on, James I was king of England, and his mother was believed to have been a party to his father’s murder, and married his murderer and the parallel was too close for comfort. He dismissed this with a condescending wave of his hand and said, “Shakespeare was an artist and wouldn’t worry about such mundane things” to which I replied, “several months in the Tower of London and running the risk of being hung for insulting the King isn’t a mundane thing.” That was the last day I went to class, only showing up for tests, and my paper was “Murderous Mothers: The Parallels Between Queen Gertrude and Mary Queen of Scots”, for which I did a lot of historical research. The paper got an A, and I also got one in the class, and I never really trusted professors again after that. ↩︎

The Last Time

Brrrr. It’s in the forties this morning (AIEEEE!!!!) and the temperature will hold steady for the day, and won’t stop dropping until about bedtime tonight, when it will drop some more and the wind chill will start falling. I should sleep super-well tonight, and am glad I don’t have to go to work until Tuesday (if then)–and the winter storm watch has gone into effect already. I need to go make another grocery run today–there were things I forgot (of course) yesterday, and I was hoping to make it to the gym later as well. My shoulder feels odd this morning, which isn’t the great, and I am wondering about resting it for another day and potentially going tomorrow? Or am I just being incredibly lazy? That could also be the case, am I looking for yet another excuse to not go to the gym? I don’t think so. I think I’m going to finish writing this, spend some time with Bemused (which is delightful) and maybe go run that errand quickly and get it out of the way, and just go to the gym later on in the afternoon, after I’ve gotten some cleaning and writing done? Who knows? It would probably be easiest to do the gym and then go to the store and get it all done at one time (me trying to be efficient as always, but I don’t need to conserve my time anymore, either; I just have to not waste time anymore.

We watched Carry-on last night, which was fun, despite the plot being full of holes. Jason Bateman continues to be the best Bateman; he brought a very creepy intensity with his very calmness to the role, and of course Taron Edgerton is adorable and charismatic and always very fun to watch. I won’t get into whether the story would work in the real world or not–action adventure suspense movies don’t really give two shits about realism anymore–and the reason for that is I haven’t worked in an airport for nigh-on thirty years (groan) now, and things most likely are very different from when I worked there; 9/11 changed airports forever, and I was a pre-9/11 airline employee who was very glad to be out of the industry when 9/11 did happen. I mean, it was entertaining enough to hold our interest for two hours–I did keep checking the Commanders/Lions score, though, because I love Jayden Daniels (one of only two quarterbacks for LSU in the last decade to beat Alabama), and love how much Commanders fans are falling for That Kid Jayden the way LSU fans did)–but it was entertaining enough. We also watched a Swedish show called The Breakthrough yesterday–a crime story–but it wasn’t that interesting and was actually kind of dull; Paul kept dozing off and I kept turning to my iPad, so that was a waste of time. Do not recommend.

I woke up earlier than usual–around seven thirty this morning–but it’s fine; I’ve been sleeping too late and need to get back into the habit of getting up early, and now I have my entire morning to get things done around here. My coffee is going down very nicely, too, I might add, and I do need to eat something so I can take my meds this morning. It’s also sunny out with no clouds in the sky, so it’s beautiful out if cold. It was gorgeous yesterday, to be honest; I didn’t wear a jacket as I ran yesterday’s errands and it was lovely–after the morning rain, of course. The wind is supposed to start picking up soon–gusts of up to thirty miles per hour, which makes it feel ten degrees colder outside than it actually is (wind chill!) so will definitely be needing a coat when I go outside today. I do feel warm and relaxed and comfortable here in the house, which means I’ll feel super cozy when I get into my chair to read this morning. I do feel contented this morning, despite the looming deadlines and the messy house. I’m not sure why that is, this morning being the last good day this country will be having for a very long time, but there it is. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking of the joke of a shitshow this country is going to be effective tomorrow, but it does seem that Americans are finally waking up to the fact that we are not, in fact, the greatest country in the world and it’s kind of eye-opening to see that socialist countries have a much better quality of life than we do with all our so-called “freedoms.” American exceptionalism is a very heady drug and more addicting (and dangerous) than heroin–because if you think you are already living in the greatest country in history, why does it need to be improved? That mindset has already been pushed on us by the worst abusers–the wealthy class–so they can continue to rob us blind and they take everything away from us, and we should be grateful they let us even have the minimal amount of crumbs.

I didn’t write very much yesterday–I was mentally fatigued from the week–and so I decided to just let my mind relax and be free, and of course I came up with a fantastic idea for a book as well as solved the issue with “Festival of the Redeemer,” so that should make finishing that a lot easier, and am most pleased about that; the title of the new idea is Diabolical, and I love that one-word title, which seems to be the direction I am going with non-series titles. (I also got to see potential covers for Hurricane Season Hustle yesterday, and I cannot wait to share the final one with y’all, as it’s pretty cool and a new favorite cover for me. Woo-hoo! Now to write the damned thing, you know?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely last day before the fall of the country, okay? I will try to do the same.

Don’t Bring Me Down

Saturday morning and how are you, Constant Reader? I overslept this morning, because I was a bit tired from the gym and running errands yesterday. It rained all night (part of the late sleep, methinks) and it’s raining now, in fact. I don’t think the rain is going to let up again (or for long) until the cold weather gets here whenever it decides to arrive; probably overnight on Monday (it’s almost like God doesn’t approve of Monday, doesn’t it?). But I feel very good today. Paul will be gone most of the afternoon and will most likely be working upstairs for the rest of the day when he does get home. I need to make groceries today, but am hoping the locusts haven’t descended on the grocery stores to doomsday prep for the winter storm and snow in New Orleans. (Snow in New Orleans is absolutely insane. It’s happened before but it’s very rare–and I really do need to write a Scotty book called Winter Storm Waltz, or Snow Day Story or something like that.) I grew up in snow, and learned how to drive in snow when I was a teenager. I also lived in Minneapolis for an incredibly bitterly cold and snowy winter, so while I dislike the stuff for the most part (and because it requires cold to happen), it doesn’t really bother me when we have the rare, occasional frozen precipitation every few years or so. But New Orleans has no idea how to deal with it because most people here have never had to learn, and what to do when your car starts to slide has to be instinctive, almost a second nature, whereas here? Everyone will drive ten miles an hour and will slam on the brakes when they slide, which causes a disaster for them and everyone else on the road, so yeah, probably best to not deal with terrified New Orleanians on the road Tuesday. I imagine the roads will be closed, which will make getting to work difficult, and I’ll no doubt have to get up early in the morning anyway to find out if the office is closed (shades of snow days in school!), but who knows what’s going to happen–and the northern part of the state will get hammered much worse than we will down here south of I-10 (I-10 is the temperate dividing line in Louisiana). It’ll be interesting, to be sure. No model tracking seems to agree, which makes it all a SURPRISE.

I don’t have much to do outside of the house other than some errands, which I’ll do later on. I don’t think there’s anything pressing we need to see on television other than the Australian Open, which will also be great background noise. I don’t get into tennis as much as I did when the Williams sisters played, and I definitely miss Rafael Nadal. I’ve not watched enough of the younger players to be a fan yet–for some reason I don’t watch nearly as much tennis as I used to–but I used to get every excited when it was time for a major tournament, and now I forget about them entirely unless Paul mentions them–and even he doesn’t seem all that interested anymore, at least not the way he used to be. Of course, neither of us play anymore either, which might have something to do with it. I can’t even imagine trying to run around the court now, let alone trying to swing the racket with my bad arm (my backhand was two handed). That ship has sadly sailed, but I am looking forward to the day when my weight lifting is back to what it was before the injury–just being able to do heavier weights alone, and I am being patient with the slowness of the progress. (I got frustrated when I tried to go back the times since the surgery.) Patience is the key. I did make it to the gym yesterday–even walked over there–which did kind of wear me out a bit, but it was a good tired, and I am sure that helped me sleep so well last night. (The heavy blankets–man, who knew what a difference to sleeping that would make!) Yesterday was overall a pretty good day. I got my work from home duties taken care of, did some chores, ran my errands, and even wrote for a little while. I also started reading Farrah Rochon’s Bemused, which is absolutely delightful and a book I am really looking forward to getting back to (once I finish this and go to my easy chair so Sparky will stop attacking me and go to sleep); I’m also looking forward to getting caught up on things and doing some writing today. We watched LSU beat Florida in gymnastics last night at the PMAC, which was fun and the Tigers were even a bit off and could have scored way higher than they did. It’s going to be an exciting gymnastics season here in Louisiana, isn’t it? I also got some cleaning done around here, which was great and I hope to keep that momentum going so by the end of the long weekend, the Apartment will at long last be finally back in order.

Hilariously, yesterday I actually failed in my “block and don’t engage on social media” vow when some stupid troll tried coming for me. Before remembering not to engage, I fired off several rapid-fire trolling responses, and waited an hour to block the bot/troll/subhuman, to make sure they saw the responses before blocking. I had commented on one of Carrie Underwood’s posts about her getting on her knees for MAGA (y’all called Kamala a whore; for me that means MAGA women are not off the table and deserve every pie in the face they so richly deserve), and here comes the fucking bot/troll/subhuman out from underneath “her” bridge (quotes because I am not convinced it was actually a woman; frankly this person’s humanity was definitely questionable. Her response to me was hey beta boy and went on to be the usual drooling lickspittle bullshit MAGA subhumans they are. So, I looked at her profile: proud gay conservative woman, wife, mom and grandmother. MAGA! Patriotism! I replied, oh a gay conservative? Please die in a fire. Not nice, but how could a so-called “gay conservative woman” use a gay slur to refer to someone else in the community? They don’t, and any queer person who would is simply a quisling hoping to be a guard in the camps. “She” then told me she was going to make me “internet famous” and tagged some gay conservative “influencer” (please) to “blow up my life” and “regret ever being born.” Naturally, I clicked through to this person’s profile and WOW. A whole 32k followers, most of whom were most likely bots and alt accounts. I replied, do your worst. I fought off the Wildmons, Concerned Women for America, and the American Family Association. You think I’ms cared of some nameless faceless bitch on social media and the pathetic expired twink you snitch tagged? Bring it on. After fifteen minutes, I added, still waiting. Maybe you don’t have any friends? I waited another fifteen minutes, and added, big talk and no action, what a surprise from a sad pathetic soul whose life is as empty and sad as “her” threats. I waited another hour, and nothing. I blocked them both. I guess she thought I was going to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep? I also said I’s rather be a beta boy than an omega skank licking Trump’s ass-crack. Nothing. After another hour waiting for the promised Internet pile-on (I was going to just block them all), I blocked both her and the expired twink she tagged.

And for the record, I can’t speak for all, but I have never, ever known an actual woman who called herself “a gay woman.” The word is lesbian, bitch. “Gay woman” is an absolute red flag for me; the only time I ever hear a woman say she’s gay is in a TV show or a movie, and it never sits right with me. Gay is almost exclusively used for men, and saying “gay woman” is, at best, misogynist because using that word, even to describe the entire community (which is why I say queer) erases women. So, I find it really hard to believe there’s any lesbian out there who would be misogynist; but then again, conservative gay woman says it all, doesn’t it? If she were a real person, she’s more deserving of pity than contempt; imagine hating everything you are so badly.

Don’t bring the heat for me unless you are prepared to be incinerated. I never start it, but I will fucking finish it–and trust me, straight people, I’d highly recommend you don’t poke with the homophobe stick unless you are prepared to have your self-worth decimated.

And for the record, straight people joking about being in a same-sex relationship isn’t funny, it’s actually pathetic and homophobic–and it’s as tired as your macho man masculinity, girls.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Saturday. Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow or perhaps later today; one never really knows, does one?

How Much I Feel

Work at home Friday! Isn’t that exciting? It is for me, especially since I don’t have to put in many hours, which is good because I don’t have much to do, other than some paperwork and quality assurance and studying up on a new testing technology we will be piloting at work. I am going to go to the gym later and run some errands. I suspect we will be watching LSU Gymnastics in the evening, before moving on to a new show or a movie. We do live large here in the Lost Apartment, don’t we? It’s also not very cold this morning–granted, I’ve moved the needle a bit over the last few weeks about what is cold and what is not; I’ve also stopped fighting dressing properly for the cold (layers, always layers) out of that refusal to accept the fact that New Orleans gets uncomfortably cold for me time to time; that mentality of I live in New Orleans so I shouldn’t have to wear layers and I won’t, which was the kind of stubborn stupidity that I am trying to overcome in every aspect of my life.

I slept very well last night, but wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work, either–which was great. I cleaned the kitchen (leaving the dishes for today) and it was very nice to get up this morning and walk into a kitchen with clean counters and everything put away. Now that I’m getting better rest and exercise, I seem to have snapped out of the years-long cloud I’ve been under since the pandemic began FIVE years ago. The 2020’s haven’t been the best decade over all, have they? But the nice thing is my optimism is back; I believe in my ability to write again, and I am working out regularly again. I may even be willing to let more of the outside world into my peaceful little bubble here, but I am glad I disengaged from toxicity and from toxic people and a toxic community that embraces and will excuse away every last bit of its toxicity because “oh no we might upset the bigots! Can’t you be the bigger person?” My days of being the bigger person are history, collecting dust in the archives as I write this. I ain’t startin’ none, but as Paul says, “He never starts it, but he will finish it and I feel sorry for you.” I have no qualms with going low; I’ve always thought “going high” was a miscalculation in the first place, much as I love Michelle Obama, and I love that she’s not going to the ceremony ending decency for at least another four years. You don’t fight bullies with moral superiority because they don’t care about that shit. They never have. The party of “family values” who weaponized their “values” to scold everyone and scare people into voting for them, who said Bill Clinton’s adultery showed he didn’t have the moral character to be president, have foisted the only divorced presidents on the country to its great detriment each time. They also gave us our only president convicted of crimes in court. So, miss me with your moral superiority, trash–you have none.1

I did work on the book a little bit yesterday, and I am not happy with this chapter as it is written. It might be okay, and it might be because I am having some trouble with it–but I have to get out of “try to save as much of what you’ve already written” and start slashing and cutting and revising judiciously. But I feel very good about the book itself and where it’s going and what I am going to be able to say with it. I have so much to do this weekend! (Sparky really wants my desk chair to sleep in. He jumps up onto the desk and chirps and head butts me a few times. I try to put him in my lap or on my shoulders–nope, don’t want that. He jumped down to the floor just now and is staring at me, using his cat mental powers to will me out of the chair so he can sleep in it. He’s so cute.) But if I stay focused and relax, I should be able to get everything done that I want to get done this weekend as well as get some rest and relaxation. Monday is a holiday, and we may be getting snow by the end of the long weekend. The city will completely shut down if it does; they tend to close roads here when it snows and gets icy because we don’t have the infrastructure to deal with that here, which means if the office is closed, we’ll have to work from home or something; they’re never going to let us get paid and not work unless legally required to.

Capitalism at its finest.

But yes, I feel good this morning. Which is lovely. I think the day will turn out well for me, all things considered. I do want to do some chores around here today, get those dishes out of the way, run my errands and go to the gym, work on my book and do some reading. I do need to make a to-do list (I started making one yesterday but got interrupted and never finished). I am hoping for a terrific weekend, and to get a lot done–but if I don’t, I don’t. There is an extra day to this weekend, after all. Tuesday morning I will have to get up early to find out if the office is closed, and if it is, I probably won’t go back to bed.

And on that note, I am going to go do the dishes and get to work. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and remember to make sure you’re taking time to give your brain a break from the horrors that are to come. And I’ll be back in the morning, most likely.

  1. All I ever have to do when confronted with their attempts to be morally superior, I always reply, “and where were you during the HIV/AIDS pandemic?” That shuts them the fuck up every time. ↩︎