Tag: blog

The Victim

Monday morning, you sure feel fine!1 I actually feel decent this morning, if a bit on the groggy side. I was very low energy yesterday, too, sadly; I did get the laundry done but didn’t do much of anything else. We watched more Citadel, but I didn’t have much bandwidth to read or write or do a whole lot. That’s okay, though; I must have needed the down time doing nothing so I’m not beating myself up about it anymore. The heat is going to be miserable for the summer, so I need to just strap myself in and deal with it. Hopefully, I won’t feel as drug out the rest of the week as I do this morning. Friday is a holiday again, too. I just have to get through this week, don’t I? I think we’re busy all week in the clinic too, and I also think I am working by myself most days…and I am likely to end up working by myself in the clinic permanently. Ah, well, it’s only for five more years, right? Then again, I may not survive the next round of budget cuts, either. Always lovely at my age to consider…

Sigh.

My energy is getting better the longer I am awake and the more coffee I consume, which is about par for the course, methinks. I think as I am home longer and get acclimated back to my real life more, I’ll probably start recovering more and feeling more awake and rested and productive. I still have a dishwasher to unload and a sink full of dirty dishes to take care of, “tis life, I suppose. I probably could have (or should have) taken today off, but I also don’t know why I was so worn out when I got home. I didn’t drive that much, and I got very good sleep while I was there. Who knows? Maybe I didn’t eat enough–always a possibility when I travel–and that’s what caused this lethargy. Probably just the disruption to my normal existence, more like.

We also watched Southern Gothic, a documentary series about horrific murders in the south2, getting through the entire season before we knew it. We actually also finished Citadel last night, which is a shame, but that last episode definitely set up the next season. I did have my journal in hand, but didn’t write more than just free associating scribbles. I need to get back on my writing horse and get some of these things I am working on either finished (short story drafts) or serious progress (the book) has been made. I did think about the book while I was driving–those books were amazing–and now just have to get reoriented at work and get my feet down on the ground in the normality of my life again. I need to make groceries–I don’t have anything to bring for lunch tomorrow–and at some point I need to get the mail.

Today’s title, while a song from Pat Benatar’s Seven the Hard Way album (which I need to listen to again at some point; I’ve been revisiting her classic albums in the car lately and enjoying them), has also been used, repeatedly, as a title for books, stories and films. I remember one, a made-for-TV movie with Elizabeth Montgomery in the early 1970s, that I particularly enjoyed, and I’ve always wanted to write a book or story using either “the Victim” or “Victim” as a title. Just using it again here has made me start thinking about a story that would fit said title; but it would have to be complicated and twisty. I’ll probably freestyle some scribbling in my journal this week about it, which could be a lot of fun, methinks.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Sorry to be a bit dull, I promise I’ll be more interesting in the future, okay? Have a great Monday, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

I’ll be your victim!
  1. From “Monday Morning,” written by Lindsey Buckingham for Fleetwood Mac, 1976. ↩︎
  2. It is amazing how many preachers sleep with married women and then murder their husbands. ↩︎

Silent Partner

Tuesday and we made it through Monday, did we not? Huzzah!

Today’s weather is ungodly hot; we’re still in a heat advisory and the temperature today will feel like 106. It was ninety-nine degrees outside yesterday when I left work. It actually didn’t feel that bad–thank the Lord for air conditioning; again, I don’t know how anyone could have lived here before electricity–and I don’t think I’m yet getting used to it or anything, since it hasn’t been this hot since last summer. Last night we also had a weird situation with our power–there was a surge or something, and after it happened, the lights were dim, the washing machine couldn’t run, and more crucially, the air conditioning wasn’t coming on, either, and it was getting warm in here when I went to bed. The power went off about ten thirty and stayed off for a minute or so, before the power came roaring back on. Right now, the load of laundry that was delayed overnight is running, the lights are very bright, and it’s the proper summer indoor temperature. This will be one of those summers, I think, where the air can’t keep up with the heat.

I finally finished and posted my newsletter about how one of my many favorite juvenile series, featuring Ken Holt, was pretty homoerotic. Just click anywhere on the blue and it’ll take you right there. Hope you click, and hope you enjoy, and maybe even subscribe? It is absolutely one hundred percent free. It also lightly touched on something that I’ve been thinking about since watching Half Man; it’s also entirely possible something resonated in me while watching that I may have projected onto the show–which is part of the reason I’ve not written about it yet, because I am still digesting everything from watching. I think I am going to have to rewatch some of it so I can write about it more clearly and not so much from memory. And who knows? I may never write about it if I can never think about it more cohesively, and structurally.

I wasn’t tired when I got home from work, and loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen some. I picked up the mail and made some groceries on the way home, too; it was strange how little traffic there was yesterday, both in the morning and after work. I love when school is out for summer. It’s wild what an impact that has on city traffic–not that our traffic is really worth complaining about, because it’s rarely stop-and-go, other than the ramp from I-10 West to 90–and even that wasn’t too bad yesterday–the ramp to the river bridge wasn’t backed up as far as it usually is and the right lane–which I take to head uptown on Claiborne–was empty except for the assholes who don’t think they should wait like everyone else and jumps the line of cars. Paul wasn’t feeling well–he hasn’t these last couple of days–but the weather has been particularly nasty during that same time period. The humidity is back, of course, and the air conditioning felt wonderful this morning when I got up. I couldn’t find my wallet (left it in the car like an idiot) which also had me a bit off-balance, but I did manage to sleep very well, woke up before the alarm (a good thing, because I had reset the clock and fucked up am v. pm), and of course, Sparky was his usual loving “I’m hungry” self this morning. He’s such a spoiled little fella.

I am thinking that the “darling” I wrote on the book this weekend may actually fit into the story, after all. I am going to go ahead and complete it, I think, and we’ll see where it goes from there. I have some ideas, too, and I am very pleased with myself and the book, too. While it may be what I consider a more commercial idea than what I usually write, that doesn’t influence what I want to write and what I want to do, which is probably not the smartest way to be an author, I suppose. I’ve also kind of accepted, going into it, that I was never going to have any huge success and I was fine with that, honestly; had I wanted to make big money as a writer I wouldn’t be writing about queer life. It was not the right choice for that, really, nor have I ever been arrogant enough to think that I would be the exception. So, I’ll just go on doing what I am doing, stumbling through a long publishing career which has to be respected for the longevity, if nothing else, not knowing what I am doing, and not caring if an idea that seizes my imagination and creativity is commercial or not.

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

It’s so rare to see someone built like this who hasn’t waxed, shaved and plucked off all of his body hair.

Tell It To Her

Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It was a lovely weekend, and I had a nice day yesterday. I wrote–working on a short story, a newsletter, and most importantly THE BOOK–and did some things around the house but mostly took it easy. I also dipped into the book I am reading and was charmed instantly, as I knew I would be. We also started watching the new season of Citadel, but I barely remember the first one. It’s very action-packed and moves very quickly, and also has a very top-notch cast. I slept well last night and am feeling good this morning, honestly. The kitchen and apartment are a bit messy, but that’s okay. I am pleased with how this holiday weekend went, and looking forward to seeing Dad this weekend. I’ve still not picked out what I want to listen to in the car, and I didn’t get a newsletter sent out over the weekend, either.

Looks like we’re done with rain, at least for now. No rain for the entire week in the forecast, and I imagine Alabama is going to be miserably hot this weekend–and I must remember to wear a hat when I am outside. (And yes, they are having dangerous heat levels in Alabama, too; we’re currently in a heat advisory and I suspect this is going to be a long and miserable summer, and not just in New Orleans.) I have to try to get things in order since I am going away for a couple of days–nothing major or long, just driving up Thursday and back Saturday–but I hate coming home to a messy, disorganized house. I’ll try to touch up on things Thursday morning before I leave (planning on getting on the road around noon), and I doubt I’ll do much, if any, writing while I am gone. I probably won’t post here until Sunday morning, so prepare for a brief holiday from yours truly’s mad typing on here. I think I am going to listen to Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water in the car going and coming. I blurbed it and read it in galley form several years ago, but all I remember (that illness memory issue again) is that I loved it–Margot is an exceptionally skilled artist–and I want to read the next Sister Holiday, so I am going to revisit it in the car so I can write about it as a Pride selection–and books like the ones Margot writes make me very proud to be a queer crime writer. (It’s been a while since I read the first one–which blew me completely away.)

And I am writing a noir, so it might be helpful to read one of the most literary noir writers of all time. It certainly can’t hurt.

I’m not sure about what I wrote on the book yesterday, if I am going to try to be completely honest. I feel like maybe I started down a possibly wrong path yesterday; but I could be wrong. It might be something that needs to go when it’s time for brutal edits, but I also think it’s important that my character actually have a kind of “safe space”–wouldn’t it make sense for a closeted gay actor in 1950s Hollywood to create a place where he can get away from all the lies and bullshit and Hollywood nonsense? I just worry it may soften him? Or…maybe this part can make how he is in the other parts of the book even more powerful? Living a constant lie is horrible and warps people (look at Lindsey Graham, for one prominent example), not to mention the constant worry about blackmail or another queer selling you out to save themselves–the closet makes people do horrible, horrible things, and that might be the underlying theme I am playing with here: the closet warps and twists people; fear can make you do some crazy-ass things.

And I kind of like that these kinds of thoughts are coming into my head. The loss of anxiety has helped enormously with that; I think I also used to write fast partly so my imposter syndrome wouldn’t have time to kick into gear and make me doubt myself. I like that now, when I question myself about my writing, it’s about choices and character and theme, rather than you’ve got a nerve thinking you can write something like this, which is what it used to be and was quite horrible. I’ve also recognized that I can’t really force it as much as I used to; I’m not sure what that means for my mental state and my tendency to self-deprecate, which was always so goddamned self-defeating (the thought process was if I am humble and play down what I do I can’t be offended by criticism because I am harder on myself than anyone else); that was always one of the biggest problems I had with coming up with coping mechanisms to protect myself from anxiety; it’s hard to explain how freeing it is to not have that making me tense and tightly wound all of the time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back on the morrow.

An “allée,” aka a road bounded by trees or bushes. Spooky looking with the ground fog.

Precious Time

Happy Juneteenth! And to all the whining racists out there, shut the fuck up and have all the seats. Are you working today or getting paid to stay home? If the latter, you really need to fuck all the way off into the sun.

Sparky let me sleep in this morning, which was very nice. I did some chores last night (we also watched a few episodes of America’s Sweethearts, but not really feeling the show this time around), so the kitchen doesn’t need as much work as it usually does over the weekend, which is nice. I also have some more chores to do this morning–I need to finish laundering clothes and do the bed linens, an unload/reload the dishwasher, and the floors. I also need to tackle my workspace, too–it’s been out of control for far too long at this point, seriously.

Yesterday was a rather dreary and damp day. Arthur’s conditions (he passed north of New Orleans) dumped a shit ton of rain on us all day yesterday, which I usually like, but I wasn’t at home under my blankets so it wasn’t as enjoyable as it usually is for me. We also had three (!!) tornados touch down in the metro area–none near me, thank the heavens–but one started in Avondale, another started in Harahan and tore its way through the cemeteries on its way to the lake front, and one on the west bank that started near Houma and spun its way up the bayou. As far as I know, there were no fatalities but a lot of damage. It’s sunny this morning–we were supposed to have more rain today–and I think I’ll have some things delivered so I don’t have to leave the house today. It’s weird not having to do work-at-home duties on a Friday, but it’s also kind of nice.

Can you believe he agreed to this shitty deal with Iran and signed it at Versailles? What other treaties have been signed there? Well played, France, as well as the gift of a bike to him. Chef’s kiss no notes on the trolling that he is too stupid to understand. Yup, that’s their golden calf–the one they sold their souls, intelligence, patriotism, and consciences to…and they went incredibly cheap. We can’t have universal health care, we can’t have free education, we can’t give kids free lunch at school, we can’t have so many things….but we can afford $300 billion more to give to Iran as “sorry we blew up your country, please let the oil flow.” Sounds like the desert country with the precious spice actually did hold all the cards. Are people still worshiping at this shrine? The right has been itching to go to war with Iran since the hostage crisis; they finally get a guy who’ll give it to him and he fucks it all up. But hey, you got rid of Roe v. Wade at least…it’s almost like God is punishing the United States for doing that. (Hey if they can blame hurricanes on queer people, I can blame whatever the fuck I want on them and will.)

Anyway, I know I am tired of all this winning, aren’t you?

Sigh.

I’m going to play today by ear, but the primary goal is cleaning up, resting, and reading for the holiday. I may do some writing, but maybe not. I feel pretty good and rested this morning, too, which is nice. There’s also a new Harlan Coben show on Netflix to watch; we always enjoy his shows, and plus, it’s not every day you get to watch a television series produced and written by someone you know. Come to think of it, I know any number of people who’ve had movies and television shows made out of their books, which is pretty fucking cool. My life is far more fabulous than it has any right being, you know?

And on THAT cheery note, I am heading into the spice mines. I’m getting some more coffee to watch the news with, maybe read for a bit, and then get cleaned up before I order groceries for delivery. I hope you have a marvelous holiday doing whatever you like, as I will, and I will of course return tomorrow morning.

Those thighs! Dat ass! Either a soccer or rugby player, for sure. Based on the arms, I’m going with rugby.

Wuthering Heights

How is it Sunday already? From whence didst my weekend goeth? (I am sure that is incorrect usage, but I can’t be bothered to check) Yet it is gone already and tomorrow morning I’ll be up early again to head into the office. I was still running a bit on accessory and still recharging yesterday, and that was okay. I slept later than I’d expected, but that was fine. I drank my coffee and had my breakfast and made my entry yesterday morning. I read for a bit, caught up some on the news, and then ran my errands. I took a load of clothes to the dry cleaner and two boxes of books to the library sale. I also stopped at the Fresh Market to pick up a few things, and came home to just kind of chill and read some more of my book before Paul got up. I. had thought about heading to the Creole Tomato Festival at the French Market yesterday, but there was some kind of stupid other thing going on at the other end of the Quarter–right on my way to the Market, so I decided not to bother. I got some great ones at the grocery store on Friday, anyway, and I cut one up to have with mozzarella salad for lunch, and it was marvelous. Probably having the same lunch today, too.

Creole tomatoes are the best. I love Creole tomato season.

I also wrote a little bit more yesterday while the television was on in the background while Nurse Sparky took care of Paul (sleeping on him), which also felt kind of nice. It’s also kind of strange that I am learning how much I love writing again by going back to the very beginning; I am writing everything by hand in my journal, and my handwriting is getting prettier and prettier as well as more precise. I also wrote on the computer, about a thousand words overall on some short stories, about four in all, which was kind of scattered and fun again. I also started writing the opening of yet another novel–but I was worried about forgetting how I wanted that particular novel to open, so I wrote it.

It’s nice to be writing again, even if it is all pretty much scattered and all over the place.

I spent most of the day in my easy chair, either scribbling in my journal or watching television. We watched more of Cape Fear, Sweetpea, and The Boroughs last evening. We still haven’t watched Bridgerton or Stranger Things, and I’m not sure why we lost interest in either. Maybe because there was so much time between seasons? I don’t know. There’s a new Harlan Coben show dropping next week, and we’re looking forward to that–we always love Harlan’s shows–and I also did some reading yesterday morning. I would like to do some more reading this morning, and maybe even some more writing; one never can be certain how the day is going to go. I slept in this morning, and feel a bit tired, too.

But my coffee is going down nicely and my body is also waking up. My workspace is a complete and utter mess this morning, and I should work on that some. All the stuff I dropped off yesterday enabled me to clean and organize that corner of the living room, and maybe it’s time to start clearing out the bead trunk, too. I can keep things in there besides the beads–all the living room blankets, for one–and then close it for another clean surface. I’ll look into that this week, to see if ARCNO still has bead donations spots up and running around the city.

And I should do some cleaning and organizing of the kitchen.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close, so I can get another cup of coffee and make my breakfast to get this day started. Will it be a productive one, or will it not? It remains to be seen, and I will check in with you again tomorrow. See you then!

El Castillo, Chichen Itza, Mexico. And yes, despite being both afraid of heights AND falling, Greg climbed that thing. Coming down was much worse.

So Sincere

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well–at least so far. 🙂 Today, all I have to do is swing by the Latter Library to drop off books to the book sale and stop at the Fresh Market on my way home from the library. It rained last night (I know, surprise) and I slept well,. I also slept a little later this morning because I was very tired last night because I had to get up at six to go to the office for a meeting. After that I had to run some errands (lab work, mail, groceries) before heading home to do my work and clean. I did manage to get some cleaning done–I got the bed linens and a load of laundry done, and did some picking up and organizing while season one of The Traitors played in the background. We also watched Pillion last night, and while I was appreciative of the attempt made by the film to show that kind of a relationship, it didn’t click with me and I kind of found it to be a bit dull–which is not something you want with a movie about sub/dom. I hadn’t wanted to see it, despite its subject matter (something spicy and gay–and yes, much as I hate using the word spicy to describe sex, it kind of works) because a good friend who is more knowledgeable and experienced with dom/sub relationships had hated it; which told me everything I needed to know about whether I should watch or not. They were right, too–I disliked the movie and thought it was kind of dull; I appreciated the attempt, though. Years ago it wouldn’t have been made, so there’s that. Progress? Maybe?

After I finished working yesterday I wrote a lot last night. One of my major problems with self-destructive mental patterns is that I don’t consider anything to be actually “writing” unless I’ve written some fiction. But last night as I sat in my chair, I wrote a lot in my journal, and it wasn’t just free flowing stream of consciousness stuff while my mind wandered. I actually planned out several short stories and novellas (already in progress, but I rarely do a lot of prep work for short stories, which could be the problem), which felt great–I rarely work out the stories and plots and usually just have an idea and start typing and hoping my brain keeps going. Just typing that made me see the absolute failure of logic there and maybe I just rewired my brain. I’ve filled almost an entire journal with my scribblings since I started a new one several weeks ago…which is a lot of fucking writing that I don’t count, as well as the blog and newsletter. Maybe this is why I am called prolific so much? I just scoff when people say that because I always think I can do more.

Learn to accept a compliment, Gregalicious.

I think I will probably take things a bit slow today–at least this morning, at any rate–because I do feel a bit tired. I need to take boxes of books to the library sale, stop by Fresh Market, and pick up the mail. Oh! One of my errands yesterday was also to pick up the new Lev Rosen, The Disaster Gay Detective Agency, which I’m hoping to read after I finish All of Us Murderers. I am also behind on his Andy Mills series; I still have the last two to go. I am going to spend some time reading this morning, and we’ll see how the day goes. I am a little worn down from the week, but I made it through the week without feeling tired or worn out or exhausted or fatigued. This morning feels like I’m on accessory power while my batteries recharge–and the errands aren’t going to help much, I don’t think. I also want to run by the dry cleaners and drop some things off that have been in the living room since the Festivals–it’s funny how you dump things in a chair and think oh, I’ll get to that later only to lose track of days and weeks and suddenly that stuff has been sitting there for months. I hope there’s no afterlife because Mom would be judging the fuck out of me!

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close, get more coffee, and adjourn to my easy chair where I can check out the news and read for a bit before getting cleaned up to run my errands. I hope you have a fabulous day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, bright-eyed and rested and a-rarin’ to go.

Yes, great body and all, but I think he’s got a handsome face and I love that half-smile.

Don’t Let it Show

Sunday morning and I slept in. I also slept well, and no, didn’t want to get up out of bed this morning either–hence me sleeping in later than I’d intended. I was very low energy yesterday, physically and mentally, which I think had everything to do with the crash and relief after the surgery. As I said, since the medication switch (which I seem to never stop talking about) I don’t have the mental anxiety anymore, but my body still reacts to it. I could physically feel the relief once we got home Friday from the surgery, so I shouldn’t be terribly surprised that I am exhausted this weekend. This is yet still another reminder that I need to be kinder to myself about not getting things done, because it inevitably is beyond my control in the first place.

Paul is doing swimmingly. There’s pain, but it’s nothing he can’t handle with some medications, which is to be expected. But he can walk without the walker, and climb/descend the stairs without difficulty. This is an enormous relief, as I have to return to office on Monday and leave him in the capable hands (paws?) of Nurse Sparky, who uses his kitty healing powers on him as much as possible. It’s weird how cats always sense it, isn’t it? Sparky has been glued to Paul for the most part since he got home, although now he’s down here playing while Paul sleeps.

Because of everything we pretty much did very little yesterday. Paul got up earlier than I expected, so I turned the French Open on for him to watch while I tried to do some things. I made some progress on the apartment, but for the most part I wound up in my easy chair watching with him. WE switched over to a rewatch of Celebrity Traitors UK, which is one of my favorites (I told you I was obsessed with the show), before moving on to a new movie on HBO, Miss You Love You, starring Allison Janney and Andrew Rannells, which we really enjoyed, and then started Half Man, which is incredible, and I am still digesting it. It’s the new show from Richard Gadd, of Baby Reindeer fame, and will have more to say about it once I finish the show today and think about it a few days. It’s incredibly done, the writing is exceptional, and the acting is top notch. We binged five episodes last night before calling it an evening.

Today I cannot blow off; I need to do some things today around here and I need to have some things delivered this afternoon. As much as I would love to just sit in my chair and read my book with Sparky in my lap, alas, I have to get some cleaning done and some other stuff as well, and hope to have some time to do some writing and reading around watching television and hanging out with my little family here today while letting my batteries get charged up to capacity again today before I go back to work tomorrow. I also don’t know how long Paul is going to sleep in this morning, either. So I am going to try to do some things and get cleaned up before he wakes; I also need to run the dishwasher again. I did do a load of dishes and caught up on the laundry, so I wasn’t totally idle yesterday.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being idle. Christ, Greg, you don’t have to be doing something every second of every fucking day. Vestiges of the coping mechanisms developed for my anxiety, I suppose.

Okay, I am going to get another cup of coffee and make some toast before I get cleaned up and get some things done around here before taking a reading break. So, have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrrow morning, okay?

She’s Single Again

Tuesday morning and my slice of coffee cake is now crumbs. My coffee is hot and tasty as I sit here, bleary-eyed and not quite awake and alert yet. I do feel rested this morning and physically good, so that’s always a nice start to the day. I did get some chores done after I got home last night, and the kitchen looks kind of nice this morning. Overall, the apartment looks tidier, which is all one can hope for, isn’t it? Sparky curled around my shoulders last night while I was doing the dishes, and then convinced me I needed to provide a lap for him (claiming it was for a moment) and then going into a sound, deep puddle sleep, dead to the world, while I binged some more of The Traitors Canada. Such the life, don’t you think? I am debating whether or not to stop on the way home to make some groceries, but at the same time…well, it can’t hurt, can it? I am ordering lunch today as a treat for myself–I have to bring some extra stuff in this morning to the office, so don’t have a free hand to carry my lunch–and I want to do some chores tonight when I get home as well. If I can just get the dishes out of the way…

I also finished my newsletter on Phyllis A. Whitney’s Listen for the Whisperer, which I really enjoyed rereading. It did remind me of one of my biggest quibbles with her work, and that of her contemporary, Victoria Holt; the heroines don’t really solve the mystery or capture the murderer. They usually find out it’s someone they trusted and only when that person kind of loses it and either captures, or tries to kill her, or both, do they realize the answer to the mysteries swirling around the spectral and spooky manse where the heroine has come to stay and/or live. (Remember, Dark Shadows began with a beautiful young woman taking a train through the foggy Maine night to arrive at a spooky mansion full of secrets.) I think I may revisit my first Victoria Holt (The Secret Woman) or Mary Stewart (The Ivy Tree) next; it’s fun revisiting these classic, if dated, Gothic romantic suspense novels. That newsletter is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning!

In other surprising news, I got money from a class action suit involving Blue Cross/Blue Shield, which was completely unexpected. I get these notices every once in a while about these kinds of legal actions, and usually it results, if I register, in a check of less than two dollars. I usually don’t, because registering takes time and even if it’s just a minute or two, it hardly seems worth it for that small of an amount. So, seeing a payment to my Paypal account for almost two hundred dollars this morning makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I should register for more of these things. I mean, that’ll pay my Entergy bill this month. Not too shabby for found money, was it?

Last night, as I watched Season 3 of The Traitors Canada (season three is the best so far), I was fondly remembering how much I enjoyed dinner and the conversation last Friday night with my friend, and that maybe, just maybe, I should start thinking about extricating myself from this healing cocoon I’ve spun around myself since Mom died–it’s really been kind of non-stop since then–and then just kind of shook my head. Maybe not yet? I’m kind of enjoying focusing on myself and Paul, and just kicking back and enjoying the lack of drama in my life that isn’t coming from the television. Physically, I felt well yesterday, but a little still fried mentally. I started revising a short story yesterday–it didn’t go well–which was enormously frustrating, but it was a rather insincere try and I did kind of give up easily when the words weren’t flowing. It’s a muscle in my brain that I’ve allowed to get slack and flabby from lack of use (kind of like the ones in my body–MUST TAKE WALK THIS WEEKEND); and so it’s naturally not going to rebound immediately, just as the ones in my body don’t anymore. It doesn’t mean I am done with writing for good, it just means I need to get the muscle strong, flexible, and healthy again. The creativity is going very well; I am just having trouble stringing the words and sentences together on the page.

I am also having trouble focusing. Par for the course, really.

And not really very surprising, given that the world is burning to the ground as I type.

I feel pretty decent today–alert and awake–so we’ll see how this day turns out.

And on that note, yep, off to the spice mines with me. See you tomorrow!

Such a pretty young man–and a very nicely shaped ass, too, per the mirror behind him.

Wichita Lineman

I am a lineman for the county…

This song, today’s title, came up on social media (which is neither) recently–I’m not sure when–but it reminded me not only of the song, which I love, and Jimmy Webb wrote for Glen Campbell, but was covered by any number of other artists. Go figure, right? My parents took us to see Campbell in concert in Chicago when we were kids–Mom and Dad did a lot of fun stuff with us–and while I don’t remember much of it, I know we enjoyed it.

I’m on my second cup of coffee this morning and I still feel a bit tired this morning. It’s fine; I did manage to get some chores done yesterday around being in my easy chair and resting–I did the laundry including the bed linens–so yesterday wasn’t a total write-off. We started watching House of Ashur (Paul: “it’s soft core gay porn with violence and blood”) and Amadeus (not sure why it needed a retelling in a mini-series, but visually it’s stunning) and I also did a lot of The Traitors Canada, moving from Season One on to Season Two. I love that in Season 2 they clearly watched–and are completely unafraid to mention–the previous season as they make references to what happened. Karine Vanesse has long been a favorite of mine, too. Her looks are often bold choices that don’t always land, but if it was me hosting, I would go so over the top it would be insane. One day I would be a musketeer, another I would be Louis XIV, then a pirate and…you get the idea.

I woke up to the glorious news that all five constitutional amendments proposed by the governor and his lickspittle legislature tried to shove down our throats for whatever nefarious purposes; the only one that was remotely close was the one about teacher pay. Bill Cassidy was thoroughly rebuked by Louisiana Republicans, which makes it look as though Trump has a lot of power and pull still in Louisiana…although more Republicans voted for someone else other than Trump’s anointed. Julia Letlow did win the primary, but didn’t get a majority. So, we don’t really know if this result was because of the impeachment vote–or for being an actual doctor and voting to confirm RFK Jr, or some combination of both. MAGA can’t be counting on their votes coalescing behind Letlow, either, in the general. This is very good news, and cause for hope. The rejection of the amendments is a strong rebuke to an unpopular governor and an unpopular legislature, too–they made the huge mistake of coming for New Orleans on top of their sheer incompetence and corruption. So, the general election and the progress of the recall petitions are unknowns, which hasn’t been an issue here since–well, since a Black man became president and everyone got their Klan robes dry cleaned. I’m not in the least bit sorry to see the useless wind chime Cassidy gone.

This morning I’m feeling a little bit tired still from yesterday. When I finish this I am probably going to go read for a bit. My mind was tired yesterday, too, so I didn’t read or write at all yesterday, but you know, I did a lot on Friday and exerted myself a great deal. My newsletter, about Carol Goodman’s marvelous The Sonnet Lover, also went out as scheduled (you can read it here), which also pleased me to no end. I do have to get the next ones for the week ready. I really am enjoying these longer-form entries, but I sometimes worry that it’s overkill on top of the blog here, which I still try to do every day. It won’t stop me, of course–I always do as I please, which is kind of a nice way to live. I probably should have gotten medicated for anxiety much earlier–a few years of it has certainly turned my life and attitude towards it around. My garden of fucks grows more barren and fallow every day, and while the old “pick me pick me” desperation still comes out every once in a great while, I shrug it off with a “why do I care” thought. Because I don’t. I don’t care if people like me or not. I also don’t feel any disgrace for any behavior before that was anxiety-driven. My brain was wired wrong, and there’s no need to feel embarrassment or shame about it, either.

I’m still not used to being easy on myself, but I like it much better than the way things used to be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely one, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning. Till then!

Personal trainer and fitness influencer Dave Rich. Handsome face and flawless body, but the eyes make him stand out in a world of perfect bodies.

Better Man

Tuesday and here I am again, up before dawn and swilling coffee while Sparky slurps down his breakfast. It rained yesterday, and when I went to work in the morning it was so muggy and hot I despair thinking about the summer. Termite season also opened last night but I didn’t see any, thank the Lord. Yesterday was a nice way of easing back into the day job, really; it was slightly busy but very laid back, which was cool. It rained most of the afternoon and was rather gloomy when I drove home from the office; Sparky was also very needy when I got home. I queued up season one of The Traitors Canada (all three seasons were loaded onto Peacock recently), and watched a couple of episodes before calling it a night. I also managed to finish writing a newsletter that I scheduled for Saturday, so that’s this week taken care of. Today’s goal is to answer all my emails that have been lurking in my inbox for a very lengthy time. Friday is a doctor appointments most of the day, and in Metairie at that, which means a Costco trip on the way home–it’s been quite a while since we went to Costco–and I am actually feeling less groggy this morning compared to yesterday. I also picked out my next read, which will go with me to the appointments on Friday, and I am really looking forward to starting it.

It was, as I mentioned, an easy transitional day yesterday, while today is more of a “back to normal” kind of day. The good news is I wasn’t tired when I got off work yesterday–but the combo of a needy cat and new seasons of The Traitors to watch was a one-two punch that guaranteed I simply could not resist the lure of my easy chair, which means I’ll have to do some chores tonight when I get home before either writing or relaxing for the evening. We’ll see how it goes, I suppose.

I slept really well last night, so feel pretty rested and good this morning. Since I got back from the trip I’ve really been sleeping incredibly well, which is great. Usually I am very fatigued and worn out after a trip, but this one wasn’t so bad–which might mean that my recovery from–well, everything is progressing nicely. I’m not used to being unwell or being severely injured or any of that nonsense. It’s not something I’m familiar with, and all the minor stuff over the years I kind of bounced back relatively quickly from, if I am recalling correctly, so being older when I had my first serious stuff happen was a double-shocker, and of course, the ulcerative colitis was working and weakening my immune system…which also delayed recovery time. It’s been a year since I was hospitalized, and that is the worst I have ever felt in my life. I never ever want to feel that sick again. Horrible, simply horrible.

Now that I’ve come up with a five-year-plan for my retirement (hurray!)–which is really my five year plan to prepare for it–I should probably get together a plan for what to write for the next five years and set some goals, too. Ideally, I would like to get everything finished that is already in progress, a daunting task to be certain, because there are so damned many. Right now, I want to finish what I am working on so I can write another Scotty to be out next year, and I also want to revise and rewrite Sorceress into something new–which I’ve already figured out. And the novellas…Christ on the cross. I’d also like to get some short stories out on submission as well; I have so many stories I’ve not finished that I could actually get worked on, finished and revised and sent out. I only have one story coming out in an anthology this year (more on that later), which was one of those unfinished stories; I want to have more next year.

Look at me, feeling ambitious again. Who am I, and what have I done with one Gregalicious?

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me! Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I shall be back on the morning tide tomorrow. Till then, stay fabulous!

Can you say HOT DADDY? Age truly is merely a number, isn’t it? I sure hope so, at any rate.