Tag: blog

More Than This

Wednesday morning and the midpoint of the week. Huzzah! Yes, I am back to wishing my life away, as my mother used to call it. But I can abide, you know? I wasn’t rested properly yesterday, I don’t think, or else it was the off-and-on rain/thunderstorms we had yesterday. That wet cold air inside the office just makes me want to curl up somewhere and go to sleep under my pile of blankets, which makes the workday a bit of a slog. Ah, well. It’s supposed to continue like this until the weekend or so, when it’ll just be hot and sunny and humid and miserable. Yay! And Monday is my next infusion (second of three). Soon I’ll be giving myself shots. Can’t wait…although everyone tells me it’s easy; it’s a pre-loaded pen-like device I just need to stick myself with. And it’s not like my job hasn’t gotten me used to sticking myself and other people over the years. Sigh. It’s hard for me, sometimes, to wrap my mind around the whole this is the rest of your life thing. But it could be worse–it can always be worse–so I will accept this and not let it bug me. I’m sure I’ll eventually get so used to it I won’t even give it a second thought. It’s always the first time, you know? Just like I was nervous about the infusion (when they tell you all the things to look out for during, it can be a bit scary: “if you can’t breathe or have shortness of breath”, you know, things like that) until I did it for the first time.

Definitely will be bringing my book with me on Monday.

I guess Ann Coulter got tired of not being a part of the ICE raids and so decided to glorify genocide on social media, suggesting that the European genocide of indigenous Americans didn’t go far enough? She wound up deleting the post, which is more shocking than the post, to be honest; she’s always been one of those “freedom of speech means I can say the most disgusting things without apology” advocates. Ann Coulter has always been hot sewage, and back in the day she used to compete with Rush Limbaugh to see who could say the most revolting, inhuman kind of shit. Back in the 1990s, as I saw my parents and family getting sucked in more and more by Fox News1, I used to actually read books by right-wingers, including Ann Coulter. (My primary takeaway was they needed to hire better ghostwriters.) Don’t ever forget that Coulter also wrote the introduction to Phyllis Schlafly’s autobiography, and Schlafly was a monster. Like attracts like, I suppose. But since she turned on Trump for not being racist enough in his first term (she probably orgasms with every news report about ICE and Alligator Auschwitz), she’s not as popular on the right as she used to be; how very dare she be critical of MAGA’s God Emperor? I mean, she can’t even get booked on her ex-lover Bill Maher’s show anymore. But she deleted the post. What the fuck, Fraulein Coulter? Outrage used to be what got you out of bed in the morning and paid your bills. I certainly don’t believe she grew a conscience in her sixties.

After the stolen election of 2000, I no longer needed to read right-winger’s books because I didn’t really know what I was gaining by reading them anymore–I used to think it was better to know what they were thinking and saying, but this century, they’ve pretty much started saying the private stuff out loud. It’s impossible to go on-line or watch any news or anything without knowing what the Right’s position on anything and everything is–but you can be sure it’s rooted in racism, misogyny, and homophobia…same as it ever was, same as it ever will be.

Plus, sharing what I learned from reading those books and proximity to right wing voters? I was never believed by anyone on the left, so I just wound up being Cassandra on the walls of Troy…and truly understood her madness. It’s horrible not being believed…but everything I warned about is coming true.

Sigh.

It rained off and on all day yesterday–we even got a flash flood advisory in the afternoon–and I wasn’t really fully and completely mentally functional yesterday. My brain was loopy and my body was fatigued; I felt all day like I could go back to bed without a problem. When I got home from work I did some chores (didn’t finish them, though–there’s a load of laundry that needs to be fluffed and folded, and I need to finish the dishes to load in the dishwasher), and then worked on editing for a while. It didn’t go well, but I made progress, and I do feel more awake and rested so far this morning, so maybe tonight will go super-well. Stranger things have occurred, after all. We also watched the second to last episode of We Were Liars after Paul got home (later than usual), and then I went to bed earlier than usual. I think I need to get back into the going to bed at nine thing again. I also didn’t read anything last night because by the time I sat in my chair my brain was misfiring again. Heavy sigh. Maybe tonight? I think I just need to get back into the writing habit again; everything is still rusty and the gears don’t shift accordingly. so I need to retrain my brain and my body and my creativity into productivity again.

I can do it, I know I can.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Hump Day, Constant Reader, and I will be back again tomorrow morning.

I really appreciate the fact that the majority of pro wrestlers today focus more on their fitness–and have much better bodies than the ones in my youth did. I can easily see this dude dancing shirtless at Oz during Southern Decadence.
  1. In fairness, they were always right-wing; Rush and Fox just confirmed what they thought. ↩︎

Rock and Roll Suspension

Monday morning after the holiday weekend, and I must return to the office today. I am not going to beat myself up over not getting as much done as I would have liked. I did get some writing work (editing, at any rate) done yesterday; we didn’t go to the movie again because we started watching Wimbledon and there was a massive thunderstorm we didn’t want to go out in. It pretty much rained for most of the day, which was a lot of fun for my sinuses, as i am sure you can imagine, Constant Reader. After the tennis we started watching We Were Liars, which I read years ago (and don’t remember much of anything about), and we are enjoying it thus far. I read a very little bit during Wimbledon, not starting the new Megan Abbott out of a fear I wouldn’t want to put it down once I’d started. I slept really well last night, too–I slept well all weekend, actually, which was lovely–so hopefully I’ll feel rested all day and can get a lot done at the office. I’ll have to run some errands on the way home, but that’s okay; there are worse things, after all.

There’s always worse things.

I am officially off the steroid treatment as of today, and my next infusion is next Monday morning. I don’t know if round 2 will make me as tired as round 1 did, so we’ll have to see and I’ll have to get things done before next Monday just in case the fatigue returns. Will the lack of a testosterone pill make a difference in how this weeks goes? Perhaps, perhaps not. I was down to a quarter of a pill per day, anyway, so probably no change in anything, really.

I have a headache this morning, probably due to thunderstorms and sinuses, which is really annoying. It’s going to rain again all afternoon and into the evening, which should be lots of fun. But despite all these hurdles I am determined to have a good, productive day. I have a gazillion emails to answer, for one, and I need to get my checkbook balanced and make sure the bills were all paid and all of that fun stuff, too. I also have to figure out what I do owe on medical bills and what I don’t; you have to love deductibles, don’t you, and a health insurance company that makes it very hard to figure this shit out? Heavy heaving sigh. I also have to get a hip X-ray done, and bloodwork again this week. Lord. I guess the smart thing to do would be to get the bloodwork done first thing Friday morning, then walk over to Touro for the hip X-ray. Remember how I was dizzy and kept losing my balance when I was sick? One time I lost my balance going out to get a delivery at the front gate and fell, hip first, into the fence. My leg had felt bruised after that, and I only recently realized it a) still felt bruised; b) it couldn’t still be bruised and c) it’s actually numb. My doctor thinks I may have pinched a nerve when I fell, hence the X-ray. Yay.

Getting old is fine for the most part, but the physical decay absolutely sucks.

As I was finish reading Summerhouse (which I really enjoyed), shortly after finishing Laura Lippman’s Murder Takes a Vacation, it occurred to me that maybe I should try writing about older characters (since I’m now older myself and my Imposter Syndrome–which rarely needs any help to kick into gear–makes me question my ability to write about people younger than myself anymore); but what would I say? For me, being older has meant being more delicate physically, obviously; aches and pains and getting tired more easily–but again, I am not sure if that’s part of getting older or just a by-product of all the illnesses, injuries and medical treatments I’ve needed since 2020. It could be interesting, though, and I could potentially make it really funny, too. The last thing in the world that I ever want to write is about some bitchy and bitter old queen who’s constantly living in the past and thinks the past was better than the present. Who would want to read such a thing? Certainly not me.

But I am capable of creating likable characters, aren’t I? Maybe I could create a likable older gay male character, full of wisdom and experience, who accepts his age and is happy about it? But…the plague years! I’ve never wanted to write about the plague years, and it would be kind of hard to avoid with an older gay male character, wouldn’t it?

Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Noticeable One

Saturday morning, although all day yesterday I kept thinking it was Saturday. I much prefer Monday holidays, for that very reason, over Friday ones. We didn’t go see the movie yesterday, because my sinuses (sinii?) refused to cooperate and were kind of a pain in my ass all day; making me tired and a little grumpy and giving me the occasional headache. This was highly annoying, needless to say, and so I spent the day (other than doing chores) reading and watching television. I am almost finished with Summerhouse–there was a delightful twist two-thirds of the way through that I didn’t see coming, and it’s changed almost everything about the book–and should finish the remaining thirty or so pages this morning. We might go see the movie today–I’m not sure what Paul’s doing; he may be seeing his trainer. I may order some groceries for delivery (again, depends on what Paul is doing) and I was thinking about washing and cleaning out the car today if it’s not super miserable outside.

We watched a gay show through Prime last night, Single Out, which was adorable and cute. There are two more seasons, but alas, we need to either rent them or subscribe to Here–which might not be a bad thing for a little while; get some good gay content to watch–and then we watched Sinners, which is now streaming on MAX. I really enjoyed it, and thought it was excellent. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a horror film, I’d say it would get a lot of Oscar nominations, but the voting members of the Academy generally don’t take horror very seriously as art, and there’s also some racism there, too. I may be pleasantly surprised, but the production values–set design, costume design, cinematography, screenplay–were all exceptional, and of course, the acting was stellar as well. I highly recommend Sinners, and I may watch it again to catch things I may have missed the first time around.

I feel better this morning than I did yesterday morning, which is nice. I was kind of worn down by the week, and of course the sinus revolt wasn’t much help in that regard, either. But I did make progress on the house, which is always a good thing, even if I didn’t get everything done. I should be able to get everything under control today. My coffee is hitting perfectly, I’m enjoying my breakfast, and his Majesty Sparky Lord of the Apartment isn’t demanding my desk chair for his morning nap, so…that’s a pretty good thing. In fact, when I finish and post this, I may go finish Summerhouse, and read some more of my other two current reads before getting cleaned up and back to work on the house. The dishwasher needs unloading, and there are some other dishes from last night that need to be cleaned–but at least all the laundry is done. Huzzah!

Okay, I was looking at Here’s website, and maybe a few months of paying for a subscription might be worth it (they have Dante’s Cove, which I would love to write about), so maybe we can finish Single Out (the best way to describe it is Heartstopper only with sex and teenagers being horny all the time, yet incredibly sweet and charming at the same time) and watch some classic queer movies, and try out some of their original queer series. Could be fun.

I was also looking through the drafts for my newsletter and sheesh, there’s a LOT I’ve started and not finished, as well as any number of finished entries I didn’t want to publish because it was Pride Month. As for the newsletter’s “identity crisis” I was experiencing last week, well, I think I am going to keep it as is; primarily focusing on queer rights (or the queer American experience), while also doing longer reviews of art (books, movies, TV shows) and perhaps, just perhaps, about writing and publishing. I have a shit ton of columns about writing (and fitness, for that matter) that I could republish in the newsletter (actually, now that I am thinking about it, that was the intent behind this blog in the first place; giving me a place to write about things no one would pay me to write about), and that could also be helpful.

It also occurred to me yesterday that I often shy away from writing more in depth about art because I feel like I am not educated enough to delve more deeply into them–and I also worry that anything I might come up with along those lines might not be original and may have been written about extensively already. But…it’s all opinion in the first place, isn’t it, and yes, maybe I haven’t read all the “classics” or the “modern literary writers,” but do I really need to do that in order to express what my takeaway from experiencing art is? No, I don’t. My takeaway might be better informed if I were more trained in criticism and had I read all those books, but the truth is, I didn’t. Most literary fiction, whether classic or modern, is like any other genre of literature–some is excellent, some is okay, and some is just fucking garbage. I really need to let go of my imposter syndrome once and for all, don’t I?

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and head to my easy chair. Have a lovely Saturday, and I may be back later. One can never be entirely certain, can one?

It Ain’t None of Your Business

I woke up this morning with congestion and post nasal drip, which isn’t much fun. It’s been a while since I’ve had sinus issues, and it occurs to me that this bout might have something to do with my compromised immune system. Great! Another lovely side effect of my illness and its treatment…but of course, as always, it could be worse. (Theorem: bad situations can always be worse.) The Flonase is kicking in now, and I feel a lot better already. My coffee is delicious, and the coffee cake is quite tasty (chocolate marble swirl, if you must know(

I was tired when I got home from work, but I had a very productive day at the office and managed to get everything done that needed to be done for the end of the fiscal year. (Much worse for my supervisor than for me, and I do try to make it easier for her, but there’s only so much I can do.) She’s on vacation next week, which leaves me in charge–I’ll worry about that when Monday rolls around again; the last thing I need is to worry about work over this holiday weekend. I did run some errands on my way home, and managed to get some things done around the apartment as well, but there’s more to do as always. I’ve got some laundry going right now, and it’s also “wash the bedding” day, too. Paul’s planning on going to the gym this morning when he gets up, and then we’re going to probably go see the latest Jurassic movie as a treat to ourselves. Just before bed last night I started writing a post about the holiday, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and how I don’t really feel particularly proud of my country anymore after yesterday’s passage of the heinous legislation that takes us back to pre-FDR days…which was such a great time in our history for the poor and the working and middle classes. I’ll probably finish it this morning and post it–else I’ll have to save it for another time, and is there a more appropriate time to look back as well as to mourn for the country?

There’s the added plus that being critical of the administration will no doubt get me on a list, if I’m not on one already just for being a gay creative with socialist beliefs and values.

Ironically, we streamed a movie last night which was a fun, enjoyable watch–Heads of State, starring John Cena and Idris Elba and Priyanka Chopra, with Jack Quaid in a hilarious supporting role. It’s a silly premise, and it’s an action-adventure movie which opens with Air Force One being shot out of the sky above Belarus, and the President (Cena) and the British Prime Minister (Elba) escape with parachutes and have to get back to civilization to save the NATO Alliance, while trying to figure out who is the insider who helped set up the attack on Air Force One and sent assassins to finish them off. Lots of action, lots of funny situations and dialogue, and a very charismatic, likable cast made it a lot of fun to watch. It’s not going to ever make AFI’s Top 100 Films of All Time list, but it was a terrific diversion for the evening. I did stay up later than usual–the whole 4th of July entry thing, which may actually be better for the newsletter than the blog…decisions, decisions. It’s cloudy this morning, but according to the weather there’s no chance of rain for the weekend, which is a bit disappointing as I love the rain, but what can you do?

I want to finish reading Summerhouse this weekend, and make headway on The Crying Child and Sing Me a Death Song, too. My next read is going to be Megan Abbott’s El Dorado Drive. and will probably do another Jay Bennett for y/a and the next reread will be maybe something by either Mary Stewart or Phyllis A. Whitney, as I love them both and I want to write more about them both. I also want to get some writing done this weekend, as well. I don’t feel tired this morning, which is a nice thing, and Sparky isn’t demanding either my desk chair or my lap (yet, at any rate) so I am going to work on the kitchen a bit this morning while having Youtube on so I can get caught up on the insanity of the world (someone really should write a series of essays about where we are as a nation and what led us here and call it As the World Burns) which will inevitably make me angry and/or depressed and will spoil the rest of the day and maybe I’ll just not do that? There are always LSU highlight videos, after all.

In other exciting news, I found Go Ask Alice on a streaming service, and Paul and I agreed that a rewatch for the first time in fifty years could be campy fun; it was a message-oriented made for television movie based on a fraudulent “diary” novel that hit you over the head with its message and probably was the first real ABC Afterschool Special (I knew the book was bullshit when I read it, and was only eleven, but it fooled a shit ton of people).

And on that note, I have dishes to wash and laundry to fold, so I am going to bring this to a close and open the 4th of July draft to work on while doing the chores. Have a lovely holiday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back shortly!

Adorable out actor Brandon Flynn, whose career is really taking off.

Walking in L.A.

But nobody walks in LA, as the song says. I did a few times, and always heard this song in my head as I strolled down Santa Monica Boulevard. I do miss my annual visits to Los Angeles to sign at A Different Light. I don’t miss the stress and anxiety of signings (will anyone show up? Will I make an utter fool of myself?), but yes, I used to walk down Santa Monica from my hotel and shop on my way to visit the store.

Ah, the good old days…

But it’s Pay-the-Bills Wednesday, always a fun exercise in depression that always ends up with the plaintive cry where did all my money go? At least I can pay them–for now, at any rate. I just really hate paying them and trying to remember all my user names and passwords; nothing makes me feel older than not remembering things.

I was tired when I got off work last night–and actually, was kind of dragging all damned day yesterday. I’m not sure why, either; I was kind of mentally lethargic–and when I am that way, I inevitably come up with new ideas…which is my brain trying to get me to not stress too heavily about not doing any writing: but at least I had some ideas! Insanity, but that’s the way my mind has always worked. I’ve really been wanting to write some more essays for the newsletter; I already have several done that I don’t want to send because I don’t want to become that annoying person dropping into the subscribers’ (I can’t believe I have subscribers!) inboxes all the damned time. I don’t think all my book/movie/television reviews need to necessarily go there? I don’t know. I originally decided to use the newsletter to write longer form essays–ones that were too big to go here–but somehow that evolved into my writing longer reviews of books and movies and television shows there as well. Heavy heaving sigh. I guess I am having a newsletter identity crisis….but now that I am up this morning, I’m thinking I don’t need to write reviews there; I can do shorter ones here and do the longer ones, the ones where I really have something to say about the art, on the newsletter.1

We watched some more of Olympo last night, and there was finally some more gay storyline; Roque, the gay rugby star, is now getting involved with a teammate (Sebas) who is only now beginning to experience same-sex desire, which should be interesting to see play out. Both are gorgeous, too–so was the closeted guy Roque was hooking up with until the closet case turned on him–and as Paul said, “the most interesting characters are the men–the women are unlikable.” He was right, of course, and I don’t think that is gay misogyny at play; they really are unlikable. It’s not as good or as involving as Elité, which took off like a speeding freight train from the opening of the very first episode; this one is more of a slow burn–the primary story of the season is doping, as it would be in most shows about up-and-coming Olympic hopefuls. There are some curiosities about the show–little mysteries that might become bigger story-lines as the show goes on, but for now, the doping is the primary story–as well as the homophobia Roque is experiencing on the rugby team and in the school.

Plus, I love that name: Roque.

I only have one more day of work this week after today thanks to the 4th of July holiday, which seems kind of muted this year. Not surprising, since the entire country is being reshaped in the image Christian Nationalists have been pushing for since Brown v. Topeka Board of Education was decided by a decent Supreme Court, as opposed to the conservative activists currently sitting on our present-day court. I mean, it’s not like the country has ever lived up to its ideals; our country’s sad history of racism, homophobia, and misogyny goes back all the way to Columbus arriving in the West Indies (Spain and Portugal really never get enough credit for kicking off colonization and inventing racism).

I started thinking our empire was beginning to crumble in the 1980’s–I just hoped it would wait to collapse into authoritarianism after I died.

Ah, well. Somber thoughts on this July 4th Eve Eve. I try not to talk about politics or what’s going on in the world; if you come here to read this blog periodically where I fall on the political spectrum shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. I try to leave talking about politics and world events out–I am hardly an expert, and adding to the angry on-line chatter isn’t really appealing to me: there’s no point in preaching to the choir, and anything I say isn’t going to convince someone who disagrees with me that they are incorrect (and vice versa; I don’t engage with conservatives because I will never agree with them on anything, really), and all it does is get me riled up. Sure, I’ll sometimes give in to the urge and go all Julia Sugarbaker here–ignorance and deliberate stupidity get under my skin like nothing else, but I try to resist the urge because I prefer to save my energy and time for productivity. I’m back to not engaging with anyone monstrous on social media–I find blocking trash more satisfying than scoring points off a troll anyway, which is performative in the first place, since all you are doing is showing your followers how witty and smart you are.

Sigh.

Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like this is a more New Orleans-style summer than we’ve had in years. It’s already miserable outside when I leave the house for work, and even more miserable later in the day when I’m running errands. I know it’s worse because my sinuses and allergies are really kicking in this year–wet and humid with the thick heavy air, the heat, and the sun beating down mercilessly from above; we’ve also had a lot more rain (another sign of insane humidity) this year than we’ve had in the last few. I think the weather, coupled with trip recovery (I was in a car for almost twenty hours over four days), is why I’ve been so out of it this week.

I kind of hope we have some delightful thunderstorms this weekend, too; so I can snuggle under a blanket in my chair while reading. Sparky has been very attached to me since I got back–demanding my lap to sleep in when I get home from work every day, wanting to ride on my shoulders while I do things, and being incredibly playful, too. He really is a dear thing.

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

Seriously, where were all these muscular pro wrestlers during my adolescence?
  1. Which means I’ll be moving some of those reviews from the drafts on my newsletter page to the drafts here; and deleting some of the ones in the draft files here. ↩︎

The Metro

Wednesday, and in about five hours I’ll be heading out on I-10 East to connect to 59 north to make it up to Where-we-are-from, Alabama–with pit stops for gas, food, and bathroom, it should only take between five and six hours. If I owe you an email, it probably won’t come before next week, as I come back here on Saturday and then Sunday have to prepare for the coming week.

I will be listening to John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors, which I am embarrassed to admit I’ve not yet read. I had started it, but got distracted by something–oh yes, I meant to take it on a trip with me and left it sitting on the counter instead of putting it into my backpack, so had to read something else, and then never got back around to it, which is disgraceful conduct by a reader, frankly. But I am grateful for forgetful me of the past because now I can enjoy it on my drive. I had thought about getting caught up on Donna Andrews or Carol Goodman or Lisa Unger; I am frightfully behind on all of them as well–I really don’t want to think about all the wonderful authors whose work I have fallen behind on, because it will just depress me.

I did do some work on a project last night doing something I’ve not done in a long time; mapping out a book and writing out biographies of the main characters, as well as the through-line of the crime. I’d gotten to the point that I didn’t really need to do this anymore; the characters would often reveal themselves to me as I wrote about them, but when you’re not writing as much as you used to and need to get back on that horse, go back to the things you used to do when you were trying to become a writer, that made the writing actually easier to do rather than trying to think it all up as you go. I’ve really gotten lazy with my writing, but a lot of it is, as I said, the muscles were always pretty much warmed up and strong and raring to go, so the extra steps I used to take when I was getting started no longer seemed necessary; I am also working on an outline–I can’t remember the last time I outlined a novel. But here we are, and I’ve always been about adapting to get things done and make progress. I think it is going to turn out pretty well, to be honest. I’m kind of excited about this and getting back to the Scotty, in all honesty. Soon, my precious, soon…

Ironically, I was too tired to pack last night and didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, either–but I also realized, this morning, that it actually made more sense to come home after work and pack, and leave from home rather than from the office. Leaving directly from the office would shave an entire five minutes off the drive, and is that five minutes really worth the hassle than leaving an hour later this afternoon will create? No, it really wasn’t. And while I always try to be time-efficient–a lifelong habit I am trying to break now because it’s part and parcel of my anxiety, and letting go of anxiety is always a good thing–getting there around seven instead of six? I’ll still be tired from the drive and will end up going to sleep early, so what difference does it make?

Progress, I think.

I also doubt I’ll be around here much until I get back Saturday, so probably the next entry will come on Sunday. I think you can handle it, Constant Reader, so until then–adieu.

Massive Ramses II at the Egyptian Museum

Masquerade

Sunday morning and all is quiet in the Lost Apartment. Sparky’s been fed and I am almost finished with my first cup of coffee, and it’s about time to put bread in the toaster. Sparky let me sleep later than usual this morning, which was nice, and now I am down here in the workspace waking up to face a new day and week. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning, and then of course I am heading to Alabama Wednesday afternoon (this trip has strangely snuck up on me) to see Dad for a few days before returning back here on Saturday. Paul has his trainer this afternoon, so he won’t be home, so I should be able to get chores done while I am restlessly watching LSU play today for the College World Series championship.

The Tigers did win last night (hence a shot at winning the whole thing today) over Coastal Carolina 1-0; ending the Chanticleers’ 26 game winning streak. It was, as pitchers’ duels and close games always are, intense and nerve-wracking. The Tigers scored their lone run in the first inning, and made that lead hold through all nine innings behind pitcher Kade Anderson, who played the entire game and threw the last pitch of the game. I had seen Coastal Carolina’s team’s press conference, where they mocked and dragged LSU–which is an incredibly cocky and ignorant thing to do; that’s the sort of thing that motivates your opponents to whip your ass and last night, that’s what happened. I hope it’s all over this afternoon, frankly–but if there needs to be an intense and nerve-wracking third game Monday night, I’ll be watching, GEAUX TIGERS!

I did some work yesterday, and hopefully will get some more done today. The house is a mess–I ran errands and had groceries delivered–and so I need to put everything away and I also need to do some things, like make watermelon gazpacho, and clean out the refrigerator and pick up the rugs and so forth. I also need to do some filing to clear up the clutter around my workspace; and I don’t have to go anywhere today, which should make things a lot easier around here to get done. I also spent some time with my y/a reread, Sing Me a Death Song (Jay Bennett was truly a great and under-appreciated writer), and started The Crying Child by Barbara Michaels. I’m hoping to get further into Summerhouse today as well–but that kind of depends on how much writing I am able to get done this morning before the game (I should write before the game, because I can always read during the game) and how much cleaning I am able to do this morning to set the apartment to rights. I kind of was a bit on the lazy side yesterday, in all honesty, and let things slide a bit because I was busy relaxing.

And apparently we are now involved in yet another Middle Eastern conflict. Jesus fucking Christ, how do we as a nation never learn from our mistakes? Weren’t all the LIES we were told in 2003 about Iraq bad enough? Yes, I am old enough to remember that, and all the other bullshit the Right pushed through Congress (the PATRIOT Act needs to be repealed, and clearly Homeland Security needs to be abolished) as a result of 9/11, using fear and intimidation tactics to silence any opposition. Remember the Chicks? Whenever someone on the Right bemoans “cancel culture,” I do like to remind them they invented it–and the Chicks were fucking right; have we ever as a nation collectively apologized to them? But at least the mask is completely off; the last election was all about racism and misogyny. THANK GOD we didn’t elect the biracial woman, right? Miss me with your MAGA regrets–and I hope all your sons are lining up to enlist.

I love that we have money for a war but no money for Medicaid and Medicare. Choices.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched two documentaries while doing other things, and yes, I rewatched Surviving Ohio State, which deserves its own entry (and paying more attention made me realize how much worse everything was there than I thought, even after a scattered initial watch) and one called Southern Fried Lies, about criminality in a small Arkansas town (it kind of reminded me, at the end, of Mildred Pierce), which was also kind of nuts and crazy. I do recommend it–those small, rural town tales always make me smugly thing of all the odes to idyllic small town life, and how it’s so much better than urban life…sure, Jan, sure. (I always think what fucking small town are you talking about?) I have an idea for a murder story in a small town of less than a thousand people, and yes, that small town is in Kansas. (I have a lot of Kansas and Alabama stories to write; funny how I write so little about Houston and Fresno and Tampa.)

And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Sunday (we’re in yet another heat advisory), and I’ll be back tomorrow morning before I see my doctor.

Baryshnikov. Don’t really need to add anything, do I?

Dancing in Berlin

Wednesday, which is both Pay-the-Bills Day and my last day in the office for the week. Woo-hoo! Long weekend where I may not have to leave the house very much! Even bigger woo-hoo!

I sound rather curmudgeonly, don’t I? I’ve always had a bit of the curmudgeon in me–how much I am not sure, but I certainly have been feeling like I am getting more curmudgeonly with every passing year. I will be sixty four in just slightly over two months (two months Friday, to be exact), and I’ve been through some things in all those revolutions around the planet. I feel like I can be a little curmudgeonly? But if I were retired and home all day every day, I’d want to run errands and get out of the house more if I never really had to leave the Lost Apartment, you know? Since I’ve weaned back on so many other things that I was doing (which really were just all distractions that kept me away from my writing and focusing on my career more), I also don’t spend hours answering emails, which is delightful. There was nothing worse than opening my inbox and just immediately feeling overwhelmed and defeated by the amount that needed to be answered quickly–and diplomatically, even when the email didn’t deserve anything but scorn and contempt. It was exhausting, and I don’t miss it in the least.

The fatigue from Monday’s infusion–which really hit Monday evening–carried over a bit into yesterday, alas. I slept great, but was still a little foggy-brained, and my legs felt tired, which is usually an indicator that I am not as rested as I should be. Ironically, I did feel rested, just not mentally firing on all cylinders. I really could have slept longer yesterday–Sparky was not pleased when I hit the snooze button twice, and I haven’t even hit it once lately. My routine has shifted so dramatically, but at the same time the illness gave me so much new and better perspective on so many things. I do things when I get home rather than just being a vegetable in my easy chair, doom-scrolling while bingeing something on the television before staying up later than I should. It’s nice to come down to a kitchen that isn’t a disaster. It’s nice to stay current with the kitchen and the dishes and the laundry. It’s nice to run errands and read–when my mind can focus enough to read; the last two nights did not cooperate. But if this is the worst side effect from the infusions, I feel very lucky and grateful. I can plan around this next month, knowing I am going to be fatigued for the day of and the day after. Yeah, that’s something I can live with.1

I also didn’t want to get up this morning and had another great night’s sleep last night. I don’t know if I am foggy-brained for the day or not, but here’s hoping I won’t be. I think we’re very busy in the clinic today, so I won’t have a lot of time to think about it very much one way or the other, but I do have to run some errands this evening, too. But tomorrow is a holiday! Huzzah! Hopefully Sparky will let me sleep in a bit. I also have an extra day to read and write and clean, which should be a good thing, depending on how motivated I am.

In other exciting news, LSU beat UCLA 9-5 yesterday, finishing off Monday night’s game from the weather delay, and thus remain unbeaten in the College World Series so far, which is kind of exciting. GEAUX TIGERS! We have to play Arkansas again tomorrow night, which is a shame; I do think Arkansas and LSU are the two best teams there and should be playing for the title instead of so early. Should make for an exciting game, provided there’s no weather delay.

I also went over the copy edits on a story I sold to an anthology, which remains untitled but will come out in September, I think. It’s another Alabama story, “The Spirit Tree,” and rereading it…it’s not bad. I don’t really remember writing it (it’s been a rough year, okay? Don’t judge me) , but I do know where the idea came from; “spirit trees’ were mentioned in the opening of a non-fiction book about Alabama I’d read (about snake handlers), and I remembered that one of my relatives–distant and I don’t remember who it was or how they were related or on which side of the family they came from–had one, and then I thought, wouldn’t it be interesting if spirit trees actually worked? And started writing the story from there. It’s another one of my “Alabama back in the holler” stories (one of the ones I am currently working on is also one of those), which always seem to wind up being my favorites, for some reason. (This is why I am not the best judge of my own work; some of it has a personal connection of some sort for me, and that does affect how I view it…for example, Bury Me in Shadows was deeply personal for me on many levels, and so it’ll always be a favorite of mine; Murder in the Rue Dauphine was my first book contract; and so on…besides, it’s really not up to me to determine what my best work is, is it?)

I do wonder what kind of writer I would be had we never left Alabama, though.

I still haven’t made a to-do list, either, which is just shameful. I do feel a little foggy this morning, despite being on my third cup of coffee, so it may not be a terribly productive day for me again. Heavy heaving sigh. But that’s just the way things roll, isn’t it? There are definitely things that need to be done today, so maybe–just maybe, I should make two lists, one for today and one for the long weekend? Hmmm.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, hope you enjoy your holiday tomorrow, which is most likely when I shall return to the blog.

The temple of Ramses II at Abu Simbel–another site I’d love to see in person.

Scorpio

Saturday in the Lost Apartment and all is well. It’s hot and humid, with chance of rain (the New Orleans weather forecast for almost every day between May and October). We did have a thunderstorm yesterday, which was lovely. I got chores done, my work at home duties completed, and while I didn’t write much, I made lots of notes on what I am working on so that I can actually get to writing today. LSU baseball plays Arkansas tonight (and Tiger fans are winning the Jello Shot competition yet again in Omaha), so I should be able to get things done today while I wait for the game. We started watching Harlan Coben’s Caught on Netflix last night, which I think is an Argentinian production, but we are really enjoying it. I slept really well last night, too, and Sparky the alarm cat allowed me another hour’s sleep this morning, which was lovely.

I also did some reading yesterday, which was nice, too. I hope to do more reading today, as well, which should be pretty awesome. I need to do some more chores this morning, too–the dishwasher needs to be emptied, for one, and the floors, like always, need to be done as well. I also need to get the mail and stop to make groceries, and perhaps to have some others delivered, too. I am feeling better these days, which is nice, and it’s even nicer to sleep through the night every night, which I suspect is part of the feeling better thing. I get to drive out to Metairie Monday morning for my first infusion, and yes, the pharmacy bill hit my insurance for the hospital stay and it’s over twenty thousand dollars. I mean, yikes–but yes, the pesky deductible is paid off, so everything health-related for me for the rest of the year should be free, which is lovely–especially since I think my primary care doctor is going to order blood-work again when I see him again a week from Monday. And the Monday after that I am seeing an ophthalmologist to check to see if I have Stargartz, a macular degeneration disease that is apparently genetic as well and which my sister has already been diagnosed with.

I also realized, while making notes and free-associating in my journal about this story I am working on–“The Lake Must Be Fed”–that the last thousand words or so that I’ve written on it have to go, because I bogged it down, by deciding to have my characters go inside one of their houses and talk about what’s happening rather than have some action–which turned it into a snooze. Glad I realized it before I continued writing it as it is, which would have been an utter waste of time, and I am also glad I realized it rather than taking it to its logical conclusion from what I had done, only to have it rejected and for me to spend the next three years wondering what is wrong with the story, which happens a lot, and in some cases it’s decades. I have forty year old first drafts I don’t know what to do with, but since they’re written I always feel they can be fixed at some point, you know–and yes, it is kind of embarrassing to review old work and see how much my writing has improved since back then, you know? And the real problem is actually that I was writing queer stories about straight people, so they were inauthentic at their base level. But yes, the conversation in this story needs to be deleted, and I need to write a terrifying action scene in a boat on a lake in the major thunderstorm1, so might as well do that today, right? I also have some research to do today or tomorrow; one for an essay/newsletter, and the other is for Chlorine, so I can return the library books.

I also have a four day holiday from going into the office this week; Juneteenth on Thursday is a holiday, and of course Friday is my remote day, so that will be kind of nice, methinks, and very restful. And then that next week I am off to meet Dad in Alabama, and that will be nice. I’ve not seen Dad since February, so it’ll be nice to spend some time with him as well as reaffirm my deeply rooted connection to Alabama, which I continue to reexamine all the time. I’m also writing a short story set in Alabama, so the visit will help a lot.

I also need to make a to-do list, and get some other things figured out this weekend.

I imagine this blog is very often the very same thing almost every day, only worded differently (or so I hope): writing, reading, cleaning, errands. I did publish a new newsletter yesterday, about how I didn’t get the gay fashion gene, to go along with this one from earlier this week, about body image issues, including my own. Click on the links to read them, if you are so inclined. I am working on a few more for Pride Month that I want to get posted before July, after which it will most likely go back to reviewing art that interests me, and/or talking about writing and publishing, or things that influenced me. I also have some already finished, that are going to be posted in July. July is also going to be my “get back to work on your book” month, so hopefully this lengthy break in which I got healthy and rested, as well as strengthening my writing muscles, will pay dividends when I get back to it.

And on that note, I’m going to get cleaned up and make that to-do list, as well as start doing chores and working on that short story. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a lovely day, and if you’re out protesting, stay safe.

  1. See? Writing about rain again. ↩︎

Down by the Lazy River

Happy Sunday to all who celebrate! My alarm cat got me up just past six, and yet again I had a lovely night’s sleep, which was simply marvelous. Yesterday was not a bad day; I got some rest and did some things, but put no pressure on myself and just recharged my batteries. I do have a sink full of dirty dishes, and the kitchen’s kind of a mess, really, but I can get that taken care of today. LSU doesn’t play today until five, so I have the whole day to get things done. Or not, depending on how I feel….but I definitely don’t want to come home from work tomorrow to a dirty kitchen.

My newsletter has been getting new subscribers since my return to it after the illness (which, while chronic for the rest of my life, has actually turned out to have been a good thing. Typical Gregalicious craziness, am I right?), but again, I try not to think about that too much because I don’t want to have to worry about what I write there. I know my Pride posts this month have generated some clicks; maybe it’s just that, you know? Supporting the queer author during Pride? Why do I even question any of this instead of just accepting it?

Which is more crazy Gregaliciousness, but that’s who I am.

As I said, I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked yesterday, but I did watch LSU win their baseball game (GEAUX TIGERS), had groceries delivered, did some cleaning and picking up, and read some more. I finished my reread of The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, which other than some racial insensitivities (mostly about native Americans and Mexican-Americans, but they could easily be corrected, there wasn’t a lot of it) actually holds up really well; I greatly enjoyed the book. I also read some more of The Dark on the Other Side, but got so caught in the kids’ book that I didn’t really read much of anything else. My next y/a read will be Incident at Loring Groves, by Sonia Levitin, which won the first Edgar for y/a when it was finally split off from juvenile. I looked Levitin up and she’s kind of amazing, as was the author of The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, Gordon Shirreffs. I also want to reread some of Phyllis A. Whitney’s juvenile mysteries, which I enjoyed a lot as a kid (I also was a big fan of her novels for adults, which were romantic suspense but really good mysteries, too), and I think I have some of them around here somewhere.

I also thought about some of my own fiction writing yesterday while scribbling notes in my journal. If I can focus, I’d like to get some fiction writing on the short stories done, and some editing as well on the books. I should spend some time with Summerhouse, and I do have other chores to do around the house. I don’t know what time LSU plays today, but I can read while I watch that, or edit. I like that my brain is being creative again (I’m still loving that gay version of No Way Out I was thinking about the other day, so add that to the list of future projects I want to get to at some point), but it’s not doing me any good unless words are appearing in the electronic files and I am drawing closer to a goal, you know? I also need to make another to-do list, at the top of which will be calling my specialist, because we still haven’t scheduled my first infusion, the infusion meds people are getting antsy about getting started (which is an interesting phenomenon I didn’t think happened in American health care anymore; but I am sure it has nothing to do with my health and something to do with money because that’s what our health care system is about: capitalism), and to be honest, I am a little curious about why it’s not been schedule, and I think I am going to need more prednisone because I am getting low and there’s still weeks to go on that treatment. So, yes, indeed, we need to make a to-do list once I finish breakfast.

We also finished Department Q last night and really liked it a lot. I hope it gets renewed. It’s well-written, tightly plotted, and incredibly acted. Not sure what we are going to watch next–probably the Paul Rubens documentary, which will be terribly sad, but probably a good idea to watch and evaluate during Pride. The behavior of homophobic garbage on social media because it’s Pride Month only serves to make me more defiant, and more determined to call it out and shame it whenever I see it. Your ignorant bigotry comes across my feed? Complain to the algorithm after I am finished eviscerating your unwashed flat ass. It’s fucking Pride, can’t you leave us the fuck alone for thirty goddamned days? Would it really kill you that much to not be a piece of shit for that short a period of time?

Obviously, it would.

And if Simone Biles dragged me for the filth that I was the way she did Riley Gaines yesterday, I think I’d just shut the fuck up and disappear. But pathetic loser crybaby Riley Gaines will, once again, play the victim while she bullies children on her infernal crusade. Riley, how do people regard Anita Bryant today? Look it up–that’s your legacy. That’s how you’ll be remembered. As a fifth-place loser who basically threw a tantrum for finishing in fifth place because you weren’t good enough to place. How did you do at the Olympic Trials? And comparing you with Simone Biles, in swimming terms, is comparing you to Katie Ledecky.

Yeah, loser, you’re not even remotely close to her league. Sorry Mommy and Daddy treated every bowel movement as a child as more proof of how special you were, but why should trans people suffer because you had shitty parents and your spoiled, Veruka Salt behavior? Take the L, bitch, and disappear.

I also watched Coco Gauff win the French Open yesterday, which was awesome. I really like Coco, and have enjoyed watching her rise. That’s two slams she’s won, and she’s only 21, and she seems to have the right perspective on it all–and dealt with the c*nty ungraciousness of the Number One seed’s press conference like a champ. I never liked Sabalenka, and I never will now; nothing annoys me more than a sore fucking loser (cough Riley Gaines cough).

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning for sure.

Out gay actor Cooper Koch is having a moment, and good for him!