Tag: blog

Galveston

Thursday and last day of work before my trip. I didn’t sleep that great last night–lots of tossing and turning and waking up, and for some ungodly reason Sparky decided I should get up at four–and then hassled and harassed me until I finally got up before six. I don’t feel tired–that may change, of course– and actually kind of good this morning. I didn’t have anything to bring for lunch, so I guess I will be ordering for delivery again. It’ll be a nice treat for myself, and of course tonight I’ll have to spoil Sparky before I take him to board at the Cat Practice. I hate boarding him; I always worry he thinks he’s being abandoned again. Hang in there, little guy! We’ll pick you up Wednesday afternoon.

Well, this Supreme Court continues to prove themselves disgusting pigs and traitors who make Roger P. Taney look like a fucking amateur. All I will say is: you know who you are, you know what you did MORE THAN ONCE, and I will forgive MAGA before I forgive you. I hope you’re proud of yourselves. Hope your moral superiority is worth it.

You have no idea, Constant Reader, how glad I am that I am old.

I was kind of tired when I got home from work yesterday, but I forced myself to do some chores around trying to get my Youtube algorithm un-fucked-up with; yet another reason algorithms should be done away with because they are of Satan. As I have mentioned, I’ve been watching the insane bread-and-circus of this idiotic political movement eating itself alive. I’ve started calling this whole mess The Real Housewives of MAGA. Kristi and Pam have been fired from the cast, but not soon enough; may the rest of their lives be as ignominious and hateful as they deserve. Yet Laura Loomer, Candace, and Erika rage on. I despise all three of them, but watching them meltdown and come for each other can be highly entertaining. I generally watch updates on RHOMAGA from more leftist influencers, but sometimes I won’t be paying full attention, and before I can stop it Youtube autoplays the next video…and sometimes it’s an actual video from one of these three little pigs. This fucks up my algorithms, and as a result Youtube was offering me right-wing content more so than ever before. It could also be that someone there rejiggered said algorithms to push right-wing content. It’s so much fun living in a world where you cannot discern fact from fiction on the news. Sigh. Again, I am very glad I am old.

I’m proud of myself for getting the dishes done and the dishwasher run last night around watching documentaries on Youtube. I saw an absolutely fascinating one on the White Hurricane on the great lakes, which sounded like it was horrible. The video primarily focused on the lakes and the conditions; many ships were out there before they knew how big the storm was getting or how fast it was going. I am assuming that Michigan and other surrounding areas also got hit pretty hard. I’m planning on looking up more information on it. More than 250 people were killed on the lakes by the storm, and yes, apparently the surrounding areas were battered, too. Imagine a massive blizzard with hurricane force winds. Sounds pretty fucking terrifying to me, frankly.

I need to make a packing list for the trip tomorrow; I let Paul take the good suitcase so I am going to have to find something to take with me. I’d rather not take the big suitcase, but I may just go ahead and do so there will be room for everything instead of shoving things into overstuffed gym bags. I also have to run an errand on the way home tonight; I should go uptown and get the mail. I’ve been avoiding doing this after work because driving uptown on Claiborne is such a damned nightmare; but I have a prescription I need to get and so I may as well stop by the mail too; I also need to pick up my copy of Jordan Harper’s new book. I’ve got Alafair’s latest queued up on Audible to listen to in the car on the way up tomorrow. But it’s also supposed to rain this afternoon, and bearing that in mind, I may wait to go uptown until tomorrow and after I drop Sparky off. That actually makes the most sense; load up the car, take Sparky to the vet, and go uptown and then head down Claiborne to I-10.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow before I head out. Till then!

I highly recommend the Bloody Mary’s at Commanders Palace.

Ring of Fire

Monday and I am staying home from the office this morning. I didn’t sleep as deeply as I would have liked, and woke up several times before the alarm (and Sparky) got me up. It was after getting up and pottering around the way I always do that I started feeling hot and started sweating and my stomach git a little bit on the roiling side, so that along with a bit of being tired…and yeah, it was a no-brainer. I think my sinuses kicked in overnight somehow, and yes, blech. I really dislike being sick, but it’s one of those things you can’t control. Paul is departing tomorrow, and I don’t leave until Friday, so I am going to be home alone with Sparky–who will need lots of affection and reassurance and cuddling. I don’t mind that, of course; I just am hopeful I’ll be able to do things in the evening as well. I should be able to just read, too, if Sparky’s need for my lap is overwhelming.

Sigh.

I did send out a new newsletter yesterday, about my set of World Book Encyclopedias that my parents bought the summer I turned nine; they may have been birthday gifts? But they were treasured possessions I still miss sometimes; I miss being able to pull down a volume and just open it randomly and start reading. But as I said in the newsletter, I don’t have space for them in my house and they are, despite holding so many wonderful memories for me, they are in the end just things. I was proud of myself for getting it done and sent out on the weekend; I still missed the midweek one, though. We can but do better.

We started watching The Beast In Me last night, and I am really disappointed that none of you convinced me to watch sooner. It’s exceptionally well done, and the performances of Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys are exceptional. It appears to have been based on the story of Bobby Durst and Susan Berman–after the disappearance of his first wife; that jumped out at me right away. WE watched three episodes last night, and while I don’t know what Paul’s schedule is like today, maybe we’ll be able to finish it tonight.

This weekend was lovely, in all honesty. I did get some chores done, and I did some reading: a short story I want to write about, and another chapter of Listen to the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney, which I am enjoying a lot. I had never really read her works before in an analytic kind of critical mind way, and so things are striking me this time around. Her plots usually involved a young woman with some sort of traumatic past, trying to find resolution in the present day, and very often involved her getting to know a family she’d never known before. In Listen, the heroine is heading to Norway to meet, for the first time, her birth mother, an Oscar winning actress whose career was ended by a scandalous murder on the set of her last film. She uses a more formal style, like the older Gothic writers, but she updates and modernizes it. I’m looking forward to writing about her and the book in a rather in-depth newsletter.

Obviously, given the newsletter post of the weekend while revisiting a novel I originally read when I was ten or eleven, I’ve been thinking about, and trying to remember, more about my childhood and the influences on me and my work. If I had never credited the encyclopedia as a major influence and having a great impact on me, I certainly never credited the made for TV movies of the 1970s! I used to love watching the “Movie of the Week,’ which if you didn’t watch when it originally aired, you might miss completely unless it was rerun during the summer. (Hard to believe we used to plan our lives around television so completely when now everything is available on demand.) I have a book about those movies, particularly ABC’s–and over the weekend I found videos on Youtube from horror fans remembering how amazing some of those films were, despite low budgets and bad sets. SOme of them were terrifying–Crowhaven Farm, The House That Wouldn’t Die, Scream Pretty Peggy, The Night Stalker and Do Not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate. They often starred either fading movie stars or television stars, or a combination of the two. The 1970s were also an interesting time for horror movies and novels. This is when Stephen King got started, after all, and I was a fan from the moment I started reading the paperback of Carrie when I was a freshman in high school.1

But probably my favorite Stephen King book was Danse Macabre, which doesn’t get nearly the love it should. Reading it broadened my mind to think critically about genre, and it also introduced me to any number of writers I grew to like and admire, like Harlan Ellison. I should revisit that…it was the first easily accessible academic tome I’d read at that point, and I loved how he got into literary theory through applying it to horror. It’s still not that much different these days, but literary writers always give genre writers grief —oh you’re in it for the money–and it was much worse back then when very few genre writers were considered literary writers, too. Stephen King wasn’t taken seriously until he was well into his career–despite his genius, his originality, memorable characters, an uncanny eye for human behavior, and his ability to make unbelievable situations feel absolutely real. I had already read some horror before Carrie–I Am Legend by Richard Matheson, The Other by Thomas Tryon, The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty, and Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin jump to mind–but King got me truly interested in horror as a genre and to consider writing it (I spent most of the 1980s trying to write horror to no avail).

And on that note, I think I am going to go lay down for a bit. I feel a bit queasy still, and you never know how my stomach is going to be these days. Have a happy Monday, Constant Reader, however you choose to spend your day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

  1. King was also another revelatory author for me, but that’s for another time. ↩︎

Rhinestone Cowboy

Tuesday morning and all is well this morning in the Lost Apartment. I slept well and feel pretty good this morning–thus far, at any rate. Yesterday was Injection Day, and the distress I’d been experiencing for the last week gastronomically is now over, which is terrific; you always wonder if the medication will stop working at some point. I even wrote a little bit of fiction yesterday–not much, but every little bit gets me further from the starting place and closer to being finished. Every little bit definitely helps, you know?

We finished watching the FLDS documentary, Trust Me: The False Prophet, which was actually chilling. These documentaries inevitably focus on the crimes of the cult leader, but what I loved about this one was it actually focused more on the victims, and how the documentary filmmakers just really happened to be in the right place at the right time to earn his trust and his endorsement of filming everything. It was absolutely fascinating, and it was interesting to see that one of the victims realized what was going on was wrong (“the path to hell”) and became an informant for the FBI. How fucking brave was she, and then the other women, having to wake up from what was going on and wonder how they were so easily fooled–but the lesson here is how easy it is to convince true believers in false doctrine, which is a very singularly important lesson for these times, right?

Likewise, these social media posts from people choosing The Filth over their lifelong Catholicism just make me shake my head1. There are none so blind as those who will not see. The MAGA regrets we are seeing everywhere aren’t deep or meaningful–no, they just think The Filth lied to them and deceived them, not that the evil policies being enacted and enforced are wrong; they’ll vote red happily and proudly over and over again, even as it is clear to anyone not wearing blinders that the policies they voted for are what they hate–but it’s easier to blame someone else for our failings rather than take accountability, true repentance, and behavior change. No, they aren’t sorry about ICE’s abuses and the racism and the misogyny or any of their horrible positions; they’re mad because the price of gas is going up, and nothing else. “He lied to me” is much easier than “wow, what I believed and voted for are actually wrong and pretty fucking awful in practice” and it has the added bonus of absolving the person of any responsibility for their conduct.

Frankly, their vote is one thing. Being MAGA is entirely different. I also love that they are also trying to police how we receive their regrets…which makes me question their actual regrets as they try to again paint themselves as helpless victims who “didn’t know any better.” It would be one thing had they been polite about differing views from the get-go, but they were all pretty fucking awful. MAGA parents whose children have gone no-contact also love to paint themselves as victims, too–“but we’re family!” falls on deaf ears when you haven’t been acting like family. MAGA is usually the last straw, to be honest–and if it’s not, then you must have been pretty fucking awful to your kids about politics. Were you being racist, homophobic, misogynistic, or transphobic? IMAGINE how awful the things you said must have been…and then to come on-line to engage for sympathy? “How could my kids DO this?” Well, if that’s the question you’re asking, they are going to keep doing it for a very long time, and I hope not seeing your grandchildren was worth being MAGA.2

When someone goes no-contact with me, I figure I must have done something to trigger that response, or that person has simply decided I’m too “extra”–that’s happened a lot during my life; maybe not that word, but basically that’s what it was–and sure, it bothers me and makes me wonder a bit–but I also respect their wishes and don’t try to fix it.

I was actually thinking last night that I’m feeling much better than I have in a long time. The corrective shoes have eliminated leg fatigue and aching joints. I’m sleeping well and feeling rested. Getting up in the morning to the alarm, which I would still prefer not to do, hasn’t been an issue, and Sparky isn’t as pushy about me getting up in the mornings as he has been–now he’s more purring and cuddling and mewing softly rather than attacking my feet and smacking me in the face. I may relapse again back into aches and pains and fatigue–one never knows–but right now I feel pretty good, and we’re going to leave it at being happy and feeling good on a day-to-day basis. Baby steps, y’all!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Tuesday, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday (again???).

How come I never come across a gorgeous man in his underwear hanging out nonchalantly around columns?
  1. It also tells me how deep and real their faith was. You’re giving up your religion because the Pope criticized your mad God-Emperor? I’ll leave that to God, no need for me to comment. ↩︎
  2. As for me, I side-eye these folks. If people want to let bygones be bygones, so be it–but not me. I will go to my grave resenting and hating these people. I’ll never trust them. ↩︎

All the Gold in California

…is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills, in somebody else’s name….

I always loved that song, and when I was planning on submitting a story to the Sacramento Bouchercon anthology, I was using that as the title. I don’t think I got any further than the title, the main character, and that was a “friend of” the Real Housewives. Maybe someday I’ll get around to working on it again. This, by the way, is what I am like all of the time. Yesterday was rough on me; we were busy in the clinic and I had a lot of work to catch up on. Today will be more of the same, I’m afraid, but am hoping it won’t be too bad. I did make groceries on the way home (only two insane drivers I managed to evade successfully; I swear sometimes it’s like people don’t care if they’re in an accident or not), and the traffic wasn’t too terrible. It really hasn’t been bad in quite a while, actually, even going in on the highway. Or maybe my timing has just been good lately, I don’t know for sure. But I was tired when I got home. Paul and I almost finished Stick, which I am really enjoying a lot and highly recommend, and then I had to do the dishes before going to bed. I did sleep well, and I feel more awake than I did yesterday.

I was so tired last night, y’all, it wasn’t even funny.

I have some things I need to get done today and I think we’re busy in the clinic again too. It’s a busy scheduled week, methinks, which is okay and fine. My supervisor is about to go to London for two weeks, which will make the next weeks interesting around the office. Sigh. But it’s always something, isn’t it? I have to go to Alabama for Decoration Day, and then down to Panama City Beach to visit with my aunt and Dad, at the end of the month. It’s also Paul’s birthday later this month, and I should get him something nice.

The country’s madness continues to rage, and will until it entirely burns itself out. Humanity never learns anything, does it? I don’t know what will be left when that finally does occur, and what will rise from the ashes as a phoenix. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it really does seem sometimes like civilization will never advance or progress because there’s always some completely horrible people in power somewhere. (I do think some people are beginning to understand why Iran has hated the USA for decades, which is something, one supposes.) As I was watching some of those Iranian LEGO videos the other day–they’re actually kind of entertaining, and very well done–because someone claimed we were “losing the propaganda war.” (I’d heard about them but hadn’t paid a lot of attention), which made me think about my childhood again, and how I–all of us–were essentially brainwashed by pro-American propaganda, especially when it came to history, while at the same time we studied propaganda as an evil on society. They showed us both Soviet and Nazi German propaganda, taught us that all propaganda was bad…while teaching us an idealized iteration of this country and its history, centering colonizers as heroes. (Which, I think, is yet another reason I never much cared for Westerns growing up; I could tell it was “natives bad!” propaganda, and not reflective of the west as it truly was. (Robert Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller1, which was derided by Western purists, pretty much showed the actual reality that the west was “won” by whores, grifters and drifters.)

Likewise, Columbus was a genocidal monster who didn’t really discover the Americas; it can only be said that he opened the era of American colonization and indigenous genocide.

Not a hero, really.2

I am starting to feel awake, and I don’t feel very achy or groggy this morning. Maybe I’m adapting to getting up at six again; I really shouldn’t let myself sleep in so late on weekends because adjusting back is such a fucking bitch. But this past weekend was messed up; I’ve not had a normal weekend in several weeks, and I would really like for that to go back to normal…which it will, in time for me to take another trip out of state. Woo-hoo. I don’t mind, though, it’s always nice to spend time with Dad and my newly widowed aunt. I really need to stop drifting through my life and starting to get it back under control again; I don’t necessarily have the anxiety of not knowing what I need to be doing or what is coming up and forgetting things anymore; but it still bothers me on some levels. I know I have doctors’ appointments and an injection and labs and things that need to be done, and I need to mark up my day-to-day calendar. I do feel better this morning than I did yesterday, when I just felt a bit overwhelmed about everything. I know I can get everything done that I need to get done; I just need to consult my on-going to-do list to center myself, and come out of that coasting through life feeling.

And on that cheery note, I am going to have a bit of breakfast before I head into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

  1. Note to self: watch again. ↩︎
  2. He really was a horrible person. Most Americans never learn much about him other than the standard “discovered America, funded by Ferdinand and Isabella, his three ships were the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. But he was absolutely a monster; if you don’t believe me, look it up. ↩︎

Southern Cross

Pay the Bills Wednesday, and we are halfway through the week already. Insanity.1 But I had a decent day at work yesterday, came home and got some things done, and relaxed with Sparky a bit. I finished watching The Beauty (more on that later), had some things delivered, and cleaned up the kitchen a bit. I didn’t feel overly tired when I got home–there has been surprisingly little traffic this week; I forget that Easter Monday is a thing in New Orleans every year, but again yesterday? I hit almost all of the lights on my way home and it took me about ten minutes from the time I started my car at the office. (This is notable because it’s never that quick, easy, or simple.)

I also bit the bullet and hit publish on an overdue newsletter (you can read it here, if you like). I’ve been thinking about writing personal essays about masculinity, the way I saw it before and how I see it now, an my thoughts and opinions after sixty-four (almost sixty-five!) years of being a sexual suspect, (I was going to say outlaw in homage to John Rechy, but since my sexuality was against the law until 2003, decided not to) an outsider to the inner workings of the heterosexual male. I’ve only written from a straight male perspective a couple of times that I can recall, mostly ghost writing, but I am never entirely comfortable doing so because I can’t understand that “I’m the center of the universe” mentality so many of them seem to have–which isn’t limited to our culture and society, either. In our case here in the US, I think some of it has to do with the religious mania that has infused so much of our society, to its detriment; Christianity as it developed in western Europe is incredibly male-centered as well as designed to be an arm of the state, upholding the status quo and opposing any change or questioning of the state. I’ve always said that History is taught wrong, and this is part of that problem, too. Anyway, I am very pleased with this most recent newsletter, and hope you’ll check it out.

The Beauty was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever watched. As always with Ryan Murphy shows, it had a great premise but didn’t deliver on it, and egregiously this one didn’t have an ending. It just stopped, after the reveal of the deus ex machina, and so the last two episodes were also more filler than anything else, and then had to wrap up everything quickly in the last ten minutes or so. The concept of the show–a drug that makes people the most beautiful, hot and sexy versions of themselves (which was also a crock and didn’t always make sense). This could have been a deeply sharp satirical look at the American obsession with youth and beauty, but…it wasn’t. I know, I know, I have no one to blame but myself–but every once in a while, he does a good show…but I have been convinced for years now that when he does, it’s purely by accident.

Yesterday morning I must have hit the thermostat in the refrigerator, because everything in the freezer essentially thawed a bit. Paul noticed last night, I turned it back down and thought everything was probably okay–but this morning grabbing my breakfast sandwich I thought, no, better to throw everything away. The bag of frozen chicken breasts had frozen chicken juice in it this morning, so yeah–when I get home tonight I need to throw everything in there away. What a sad waste of money and food. AH, well, it’s payday and I needed to stop at the grocery store anyway, so I’ll be replacing some things on the way home tonight. Ah, well. I think I might need to do a short Costco run this weekend as a result. We’ll see. I just hate that I have to throw away that frozen shrimp. Ah, well. Naught to do but bite the bullet.

I was a bit tired this morning but the coffee is now kicking in and I am feeling better. We’re not terribly booked up today, so I can get caught up on Administrative duties. The freezer situation means I’ll have to DoorDash lunch again, but there are definitely worse things.

And on that grim note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I’ll check back in with you again later.

PS. I am purposely not mentioning what went on yesterday in the world because Jesus FUCKING Christ. This whole thing isn’t going to end well at all.

One of the many beautiful homes in my neighborhood–and that black vehicle is BLOCKING THE DRIVEWAY!
  1. The good news is President Stillson, like all bullies, backed down. However, the 25th needs to be invoked. ↩︎

To Be a Man

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and the Crescent City Classic marathon is already under way. I wound up staying up later last night than I usually do; I was doing the bed linens but was interrupted by my plans for the evening–I was social last night–and had to finish them when I got home. I fell asleep in my chair waiting for the last of the blankets to finish, and slept deeply, restfully, and extremely well. As such, I slept in later than I usually do, but that’s okay. I am going to run some errands today as well as do some chores around here. Paul is going to be out for most of the daylight hours; he has things to do at the office, is going to work out with his trainer, and so will most likely not be home until the early evening, which is also okay. I want to take it easy for most of the day, to rest, but we’ll see how things go. I also need to finish a newsletter; I am trying to stick to a weekend/midweek schedule. Ideally, there would be two per week, but that doesn’t always happen, does it? I need to do better with that, don’t I?

I survived getting up early and going to the office yesterday, and managed to survive both the meeting and doing some things around the office that I won’t have to do Monday before coming home to do quality assurance on paperwork while starting all the laundry. (The downstairs is a complete mess, and so will need to do something about that today.) I met some friends for a cocktail before heading uptown for my dinner date at Gautreau’s, which is somewhere I’d never eaten before. I had the roasted broccoli salad (with pine nuts, shredded cheese, and a delicious vinaigrette) and had the braised lamb linguini in a pesto sauce. My word, it was delicious, and I also allowed myself a very dry martini with my meal before catching a Lyft home. I have started a rewatch of season four of The Traitors (because I want to write about it and the entire phenomenon of the show), and even though you know who wins and who gets banished/murdered ahead of time, it’s good for rewatching because you forget things. Example: I hate Michael Rappaport so much I’d blacked his presence on the show out of my memory. (And whatever anyone’s opinion on Colton Underwood may be–and I do have several–he really is ridiculously beautiful, and that needs to be said.)

I also feel like I have to point out, as a fan of both Heated Rivalry and its cast, that I finally caught Connor Storrie’s new commercial for Verizon, filmed in a delightfully horror style, in which his butt is the actual star (and to be far, it is an incredibly nice one) and shows not only how talented he is, but also how charismatic. The camera is in love with him, and we all benefit from this. I am really looking forward to following his career as it grows–that of the entire cast, really. I haven’t gone completely parasocial–fandoms are pits of despair and neediness that should really be studied–but I am rooting for Mr. Storrie and the others to really become major stars. I don’t need to know everything about them or what they’re doing or any of that other invasive shit fans indulge in, but…I am a fan.

I really do feel rested and relaxed this morning. My legs are a bit more tired than I would prefer, but that’s okay; after I do the things I want to get done today I am planning on spending most of my day in the easy chair with the laptop and a book, and of course at five, LSU continues its quest to make it to the Elite Eight in gymnastics tonight in the regional finals. But I do really need to clean up down here before I leave the house to do things.

I’ve also added today’s title as a prospective title on the list of essays I want to write in a series about masculinity or the newsletter. I keep saying that, don’t I? I’ve been thinking about this topic–masculinity–for quite a long time, but I also want to talk about it clearly and concisely, and it’s all my perceptions anyway. I’ve always been reluctant to write personal essays about things I am interested in because I don’t consider myself an expert on anything, but I know a little about a lot of topics. Does anyone need another essay about The Great Gatsby? Probably not, nor am I known as a scholar on any subject other than my own personal experience, and I’ve often doubted or questioned my own experiences and perceptions. But writing has always helped me sort things out, processing everything to deal with it as well as make up my own mind.

Hmmm.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

The side patio bar at St. Vincent’s in my neighborhood, on Magazine between Orange and Race streets

We’re Ready

Friday and I have to go to a meeting at work this morning, and will probably spend the rest of the work-day there to get my usual Friday hours. We’ll see how I feel after the meeting–if I want to stay or go back home to do some quality assurance. I am meeting two friends for drinks late this afternoon and am having dinner with still another friend directly after. All this social activity will probably end up with me lying on the easy chair all day tomorrow recovering. I guess we’ll see how it all turns out. ut there are worse things, you know? I slept well again last night and don’t feel exhausted this morning, so that’s a good thing; I just don’t know how long I am going to last today. But it’s nice to not feel tired despite getting up early on a day I usually get to sleep a little later. I also wonder if my new special shoes have anything to do with my legs not being tired this morning?

Yes, I had to buy a pair of expensive specialty corrective shoes–specifically for flat-footed people whose feet also pronate–and they cost $150 (I know, I just think spending more than a hundred dollars for athletic walking shoes is insane). I used my income tax refund to pay for a pair (my doctor told me I should try them) and I started wearing them this week. At first, they felt a little weird and not much difference, but I realized last night that my legs hadn’t been tired all week and even the Achilles tendons aren’t complaining nearly as much as they did before. I was hoping that my doctor was incorrect and I wouldn’t have to pay this much for shoes again, but it looks like I am definitely going to have to keep buying these shoes. I’ll eventually stop resenting spending the money, and it’s worth it to not have my legs aching all the time.

LSU Gymnastics won their regional qualifier last night, and scored their highest score of the season, despite leaving points on the mats. The regional final is tomorrow, so here’s hoping LSU makes it to the national semi-finals. They have a good shot at winning the national title yet again this year, which is incredibly exciting. GEAUX TIGERS! And Kailin Chio got two 10’s! It was fun to watch, and I am looking forward to this weekend’s regional final.

The good news/bad news of yesterday was of course, the firing of Nazi bitch Pam Bondi. For the record, Ms. Christian is on her fourth husband while fighting against marriage equality in Florida, and this regime didn’t corrupt her; she was a disgrace to the bar as Attorney General of Florida. Here’s hoping she’s disbarred and eventually charged for crimes committed under her oversight. Everything he touches dies–and isn’t it hilarious how many people can convince themselves to throw morality under the bus and work for him, thinking they’ll be the exception to come out smelling like a rose? But don’t blame the regime for Bondi’s evil–her evil and corruption was why she got the job in the first place. Look who’s the loser lawyer now, bitch! Start praying, and may you never have a moment’s peace any time you go out in public.

It’s also Easter weekend with today being Good Friday; the Crescent City Classic is also this weekend (tomorrow) but it won’t affect me; the route is from Poydras and Rampart to City Park–so CBD and Midcity neighborhoods, not my frequent haunts, which is a very good thing. That means I can run errands tomorrow after all, so I can just stay home on Easter and take it easy. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Good Friday, however you choose to spend it, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning with a smile on my face and my eyes all bright!

Few things were sexier than a pretty boy in cut-off jeans in the early 1980s—and Christopher Atkins definitely fit that bill

My Destination

Wednesday!

I felt a bit more tired this morning than I did yesterday morning, and when I creaked out of bed my legs did feel a little bit tired. It also took a moment for the coffee to kick in and get my day going. I wasn’t tired at all yesterday, not even after stopping to make groceries on the way home. Paul was also home, which was super-great; it’s nice when we’re both home in the evenings, and I’ve missed that. We started watching this latest (and last) season of The Comeback, and Lisa Kudrow kills it as Valerie Cherish. Now that we’re back to normal, we can start getting caught up on all the shows we watch that have dropped new seasons, and there are new shows to get started watching, too–we shouldn’t have any issues with not having something to watch for a little while, at any rate.

I sent out a new newsletter yesterday (click here if you want to read it!) about twenty-plus years of Scotty. As I said recently, for decades I kept myself too busy to think much about the past and avoided it at all costs. But being so sick regularly (whether it was an injury/surgery or illness) these past few years forced me to sit with myself and thinking back. Maybe I should have done this all a long time ago? I don’t know, but I am sitting with things now, and letting go of some anger I’ve been holding onto for too long. I’ve never been big on self-reflection, and focusing on myself just always seemed selfish, if that makes any sense? Reminding yourself when you’re going through something that there are still people worse off than you are is also kind of self-defeating–if you don’t look out for yourself, who is going to? And I am enjoying the peace, frankly. Maybe I should have opened the door to selfishness sooner. Anyway, I feel mentally at peace (as much as anyone can with the world burning to the ground around us) and I intend to protect that at all costs. It’s also nice having down time, where I can just pet Sparky and watch whatever catches my fancy on my television. I need to get better still with time management, but last night when I got home I did a load of dishes and ran the dishwasher. I also need to pick up the kitchen and living room a little bit. Since today is April 1st (yay for April Fools Day) and this weekend is Easter (staying home on Sunday for sure)…it’ll be interesting. I have a dinner date for Friday evening with a friend in from out of town, so that should start my weekend off nicely. I do have to come into the office Friday morning for a department meeting, but will probably run some errands on my way home to get them out of the way once and for all.

But it has been interesting these past few years recognizing why I do certain things the way I do (it’s usually an anxiety coping measure I no longer need), and recognizing that some of my similarities to my mother were because we both suffered from generalized anxiety disorder.

Well, well, well, cosplay Kristi Noem just got so publicly embarrassed and humiliated that a smart woman would disappear forever from public life…but I don’t think that’s going to happen. In all honesty, I don’t care what her husband is into, and while yes, I can see how embarrassing and humiliating that would be for anyone, it’s really nobody’s business–and I might even be willing to not point and laugh if she wasn’t a completely garbage human being. You want privacy, bitch? Renee Good’s and Alex Vretti’s families would like to have them alive and well, and why aren’t they, you Nazi piece of shit? Fuck you now, fuck you tomorrow, and fuck you forever. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to explore these options, Crusty, if you weren’t fucking Corey Lewandowski. And how and why did these images leak now? If someone on the left had them, they would have come out before she was fired from her latest job. So…it stands to reason this leak came from her side of the aisle.

It also stands to reason that these lockstep MAGA politicians who love the taste of shoe leather and shoe polish probably have dark or embarrassing secrets themselves and are being held in line with blackmail.

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

Oscar winner Michael B. Jordan

Love Is

…definitely not getting up at six on a Monday morning, methinks. I slept pretty well, but didn’t want to get up (I never do, so nothing new there), and am a little discombobulated; yesterday kept seeming like Saturday, and it wasn’t. My primary accomplishments of the day were getting things delivered so I didn’t have to leave the house, I finished reading Mississippi Blue 42, and finished watching season 2 of The Traitors Australia, which means I am almost finished with everything up for streaming on the Peacock app and will soon be looking for something else to watch. But the Festivals are this weekend, and Paul will be back to his what-passes-for-normal in his life next week, and we are very behind on a lot of streaming shows (new seasons and new ones to watch), so picking out something to watch shouldn’t be difficult. I also managed to keep avoiding the news for the most part since leaving Thursday, and I kept it going through the weekend. I really don’t want to check back in, do I? I have noticed the increase in the cost of gas–up to over $4 a gallon here in New Orleans. Remind when precisely gas was over four dollars a gallon during the last year of the Biden administration?

Sigh.

The last time I bought gas before the funeral trip, it was $2.59 a gallon and I was irritated with myself for not filling up the day before. So. Much. Winning.

I feel a bit weird this morning–not unwell, but not well, either. I suspect it has to do with the weather being different down here than it was over in Alabama, and my sinuses are having to get used to our heavier air again here. I slept well last night, too. It was a nice, relaxing day overall, in which I did some spot cleaning and some picking up around here, and of course I had things delivered. I have to swing by the post office for the mail on the way home, and I will swing past the grocery store on my way back to the house. I need to make a list–I don’t think I need too much, actually–and I do have a few things to do when I get home tonight. I need to also check my to-do list, and add some things to it. It’s becoming more and more clear to me that I can’t trust my short-term memory anymore. I think I’m going to start watching an episode of Jeopardy every night, because it makes me think and sharpens my brain.

I’ve not even checked my email since last Thursday–there’s a lot of it, so am afraid to look, but I am sure most of it is easily delete-able sales attempts. Or loan offers at loan shark interest rates. I don’t think I’m expecting anything crucial. Wish me luck when I open the inbox later.

I was very pleased that I finished reading Mississippi Blue 42. The only reason it took so long was because of brain fatigue; too tired when I get home from work to read for a while and same with the weekends. I really enjoyed it, and listening to the first half or more certainly made it easier for me to get back into reading the physical copy, which was marvelous. Eli Cranor is a marvelous writer, and the book inspired a lot of creative thoughts for me…it was also interesting because my uncle, whose funeral I attended, played college and pro ball and was a high school football coach (a successful one) until he retired. We really are such a college football family, it’s wild. I get my love of it from my family; and it’s always been so much a part of my life that I can’t imagine what it’s like not to follow college football. I turned Paul into a fanatic, too. (He was already a big sports fan, so getting him into college football wasn’t terribly hard.)

Season 2 of The Traitors Australia was absolutely amazing, with an enormous twist at the end that I saw coming, but wasn’t sure would deliver. But it DID! Now, all I have is one season of New Zealand before I am done, but I may go back and rewatch the most recent season of the US so I can evaluate and write a newsletter about.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow!

The great statues of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel.

Bombay Sapphires

Tuesday and the week is underway. Yesterday was a bit more of a challenge than I had hoped when I got up in the morning–mostly day job issues–and I got a bit more tired as the day went on. The temperature changed overnight, going from warm and humid on Sunday in the afternoon to thunderstorms overnight. It was still warm when I went to work in the morning, but the mercury kept falling and it was cold (for New Orleans in March) by noon. It’s even colder this morning–I had to play the New Orleans thermostat game of “heat or cool” last night, settling on heat–as it is a lovely 40 degrees outside at the moment. I slept well again last night, but definitely ran out of energy yesterday afternoon before coming home from work. I just came straight home and collapsed into my chair, doing literally nothing all night other than watching some television and hanging with Paul and Sparky. I went to bed a bit early, too, and man oh man, was the bed and pile o’blankets comfortable this morning when the alarm started beeping. I do have to run errands either tonight or tomorrow night on the way home from work; I guess it will depend on how I feel when I get off work today. I don’t really need to do anything other than get the mail on the way home tonight or tomorrow; I don’t think I need anything from the grocery store that terribly, in all honesty. So, maybe just the mail on the way home tonight and I can push off groceries until the weekend. I may have to go to Alabama later this week for a family funeral–honestly, can people stop dying for a few weeks already–primarily to be supportive of Dad more than anything else….but I am still waiting for details and then can plan (or not plan) accordingly.

Sigh.

Oddly enough, both this blog and the newsletter have been picking up subscribers lately, which is interesting, and even more interesting is I’ve also been getting a lot of comments (more than usual, which is none) lately, too. I try not to think about that sort of thing too much, because it becomes pressure and worrying about offending people–which would change the content of both. My attitude toward the blog and newsletter has always been I write them for myself and share them. If you like or enjoy reading them, do so! If you don’t, please spare yourself the aggravation and don’t read either. I think this has always been the case with anything I write–I write what I want to and feel passionately about, and hope other people like it. I also don’t need to know if you don’t–which is why I never log into Goodreads or read the reviews on Amazon. Once it is out of my hands, the work is literally out of my hands and there’s nothing I can do it about it anymore anyway. So, why does anyone need to experience that kind of negativity or positivity? Don’t read your reviews is probably the best advice I was given all those years ago when I got started–and I gradually learned the hard way that it was good advice. I know we all have a need for praise for our work, but my peace of mind is more important to me than seeing mean or cruel reviews on websites, you know?

Speaking of reviews, here’s a lovely one from Frank Gaimari, and yes, I did read that one. I also watched that one on Youtube I shared here a week or so ago, which was also very good. I’m starting to feel better about that book, and realize a lot of the way I feel about the book is because I became so truly ill while trying to finish it; the two things aren’t related in the least, and I should stop associating them together. I am making progress on this whole be kinder to yourself thing lately, too.

I feel more alive and functional today than I did yesterday, and maybe today will be a day where I can get some shit done tonight when I get home from work. I don’t feel sore anywhere this morning–other than some tightness in the Achilles tendons, but I can walk without limping, which is nice–and tonight I should use the massage gun on them again, as well as the ice machine. Progress is progress!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

This image of fog rolling into Venice always makes me think of Don’t Look Now. I do love Venice.