The Cars’ Candy-O album, for the record, also holds up forty years later.
It’s the Monday of my last infusion, which means I need to get ready and drive out to the farthest extreme of Metairie this morning; I’m not really sure where Metairie ends and Kenner begins in all honesty. I’m going to take my book with me to read for the two hours I am in the chair attached to an IV. Woo-hoo! But this is, as I said, the last one, and I’m kind of glad about that, in all honesty. I am sick of IVs, if I am being completely honest. Everyone at the infusion center is lovely, of course, but…
Sunday was a lovely day around here. I grilled yesterday, and we watched the rest of Wednesday, which is a lot of fun (although I keep thinking of the show as a continuation of the movies from the 90s, which it’s not) and I love that my favorite Wednesday, Christina Ricci, is in the cast. Now they just need to write a part for Joan Cusack! We also started Chief of War with Jason Momoa, which is beautiful–looks like it was filmed on location in Hawaii, although I didn’t know that they have kudzu in Hawaii; I don’t recall ever seeing any when I was there, but apparently they do. Also turns out most of the show was shot in New Zealand, not Hawaii, which is interesting. I also read more deeply into El Dorado Drive, which I am loving (and can’t wait to get back into at the infusion center), and I also worked on my own writing for a while yesterday. I am looking forward to working on it more after the infusion, too. I think I am finally getting back into the swing and rhythms of my own life again at long last–but let’s not hold our breaths, shall we?
There’s a tropical system looking to develop into something major out near to Cabo Verde Islands, but will most likely turn north in the Atlantic (so they are saying) and not come ashore in the US. The season is definitely starting to get amped up, unfortunately. I was thinking more about the Katrina aftermath and writing something for the newsletter about the twenty year remembrance; and I am glad I watched that documentary series last week about the disaster. I think I am ready to talk about it again. I also was thinking about my essay on religion that I want to finally finish for my newsletter–this was from finishing season two of Shiny Happy People–and also recognizing, at last, that I can also write them in parts–which is also something I can do with other essays.
Sometimes I wonder about myself, you know? The reason I even thought about this in the first place was because I was thinking yesterday about writing a serialized novel for my newsletters, which then became duh, you can do this with the essays as well so they aren’t so long. I still am up in the air about the newsletter and what I should use it for…but I also want to be careful about freezing it into something clearly defined because then I get into the old “that’s not what this is for” when the truth is it can be whatever I want it to be and any rules for it are set by ME, which means I am also not bound by any such rule. What am I going to do, punish myself by grounding me from writing it for a while? Posh, what ignorance!
Heavy heaving sigh.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I may be back later after the infusion–one never can be entirely sure with me–but if not, tomorrow morning for sure. Have a lovely Monday!
Work at Home Friday, with tasks that need doing and an apartment to clean and a Costco run later on this afternoon. After I am finished with work stuff I am free until Monday morning to do as I please, and how I please is to get things delivered so I don’t have to leave the house all weekend! I also want to clean the apartment more, as well as dive into my reading and do some writing as well. I know I promised a short story to an anthology, which is cool and yet another short story sale for the year, and of course, all the books I am currently working (horribly slowly, for the record) on and trying to finish. I had planned to do more this year, but I also didn’t take “getting horribly sick and going into the hospital for six days and then trying to get my strength back” into consideration for planning this year’s writing schedule. I had hoped to have the Scotty finished and turned in, as well as the other one I am in process with. I do have some things to get done before I finally stop letting the new Scotty steep in the files, and get back to work on it.
Man plans, and God laughs, right?
I was exhausted when I got home last night, and fell asleep in my chair around seven! Paul worked late at the office finishing a grant, and I had no clue how worn out I was. I sat down in my chair, figuring I’d rest a but would get up and do some chores after getting caught up on the news. That didn’t happen, needless to say. Being tired hit me when I got home from work, alas–I was fading at work in the late afternoon–and I thought a little rest won’t hurt me as I got sucked into the news of the day about the slow, steady collapse of the country. I have a dishwasher to empty and reload, lots of laundry to do, a staff meeting at nine this morning, and data to enter. We’re going to Costco later in the afternoon when I’ve finished work, and I need to order the groceries to be delivered this evening. I also would like to do some writing and reading tonight, too. We shall see how it goes, won’t we?
I still feel a bit groggy but this second cup of coffee is quite delicious, and I need to make something to eat in a moment because I certainly don’t want to be eating on camera during the meeting.
I also saw a submissions call for an anthology that feels like its right up my alley and I could easily (ha!) come up with something to submit, and I’m actually kind of excited about exploring that idea? Despite falling off the writing horse yesterday due to exhaustion and fatigue, I am still feeling like a writer again, which is a huge relief. Whenever I go into a fallow phase, for whatever reason, I always worry that I’ve exhausted my creativity and my ability to write and it won’t resurface again. I also worry about that I’ll burn out–but if my hyper-productive phases in the 2010’s didn’t do it, I can’t imagine simply being old and weary has that much power. I also, seriously, don’t feel old. I know I talk about it all the time, primarily because it catches me off-guard sometimes that I am in my mid-sixties. I have noticed that my energy reserves are more limited, but Christ–I had two surgeries three years ago and a serious illness earlier this year–and I never seem to have the time to get rested and healthy and fully recovered. I doubt that I’ll ever do four or five books per year ever again–even if I could, I don’t think I’d want to–but maybe two per year could work for me. We’ll have to see.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again probably tomorrow morning as I have a day jam-packed with stuff I need to get done.
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.
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?
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. ↩︎
Tuesday and back to what passes for normality around here. My eye appointment went very well; my eyes (despite their inability to see much) are very healthy and there’s no trace of either glaucoma or Stargardt’s disease; there is some slight cataract development but “nothing you need to worry about for fifteen or twenty years.” *Whew*, am I right? I feel bad still for my sister, of course, but it’s a relief to know that I most likely will not be losing my sight as I get older.
I also have to share this piece about my friend Mark. Mark and I have been friends for well over twenty-five years. I also knew his late husband Johnny; I remember when they first became a couple. Mark was my workout partner for about ten years or so; I had to abandon our workouts when I went back to work full-time. If you’ve been around this blog since its beginning all those years ago, I helped Mark and Johnny gut their house and remove all of its water-damaged contents; Mark was the basis for Scotty’s best friend David in Bourbon Street Blues and has appeared in numerous others of the Scotty books. And yes, it is deeply ironic that the Archdiocese of New Orleans let him go for the morality clause as they try to navigate bankruptcy and financial settlements for covering up all the child rapes committed by their priests. I first saw this on Facebook when Mark posted it; it was picked up by one of the news stations here; the Guardian on-line, but I frankly enjoyed the editorializing evident here by the Friendly Atheist newsletter; imagine my surprise when it dropped into my inbox talking about what happened to my old friend Mark! Mark was the one who took me to Charity Hospital when Paul was attacked because I was too upset to drive. (I miss Mark. I don’t see him as much anymore and that is mostly my fault.) Mark is a good guy, and this pisses me off–even more so because Johnny is dead and Mark is no longer in violation of his contract. I don’t think my opinion of this Satanic archdiocese could have gone any lower–and here we are. Maybe it’s time to write a book addressing the child rape cover-ups…if it isn’t already a cliché.
I proofed my short story for Crime Ink yesterday and sent the corrections back in; which also required me to reread the story (“The Rhinestone”) again for the first time since the copy edits, and of course, I’d pretty much forgotten all of it. It’s a good story, an excerpt from Never Kiss a Stranger in which I had to fill in a lot of the background…since it’s already established in the longer piece; I winced a bit at the background before remembering oh yes, you had to add all of this in because no one would have a clue what was going on without the back story, and of course I was worried that I was “telling” too much rather than showing. I’m not sure when I am going to get back to Never Kiss a Stranger since I want to finish the Scotty and Chlorine before I can give it my full attention, if then; there are some others that are itching to be written and finished as well and I always seem to get distracted from my planned schedule…I had wanted to get The Summer of Lost Boys done this year, but I don’t think that’s going to happen…and of course, now I want to write about the cursed lake, too.
Sigh.
But no more defeatist talk around here! It’s absolutely okay to have days where you need to take care of yourself and not get as much done. I did take care of the kitchen last night, and started working on the living room again (I also found a lost remote control we looked for everywhere; it’s been awhile since the ghost played a trick on us…and now I am missing something else entirely). I also made a to-do list, picked up my mail, and made groceries. So, yeah, I should have been tired when I got home! Cheers and applause for everything else I did, thank you very much. I also went to bed early; I was falling asleep in my chair and staggered upstairs for a lovely night’s sleep. I’ll go straight home from work tonight and finish everything I started last night, and hopefully do some reading and writing. (I did write a bit yesterday–not very much, mind you, but it was something.)
I have a severe lack of motivation this week, and that’s going on the to-do list; find my motivation and reawaken my ambition and my sense I can conquer the world.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, happy July, and all that jazz. I’ll be back tomorrow.
The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles; something I’ve always wanted to see
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.
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.
Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around yet again, and the week is half-over, huzzah! It’s all a downhill slide into the weekend now–wishing my life away again, as Mom always used to say–but can I help it if I enjoy my days off and look forward to them? Surely I am not alone in this, and I say this as someone who actually enjoys his job and what he does for a living (and health insurance).
Speaking of insurance, my nurse from Louisiana Blue (Blue Cross/Blue Shield) called me yesterday morning to see how I was doing and to check in about my treatment and care, which is really nice and again emphasized to me how serious this condition I have actually is. I was pleased to report that I feel better, am hungry all the time, and have gained back some weight, which is great. I am also glad she didn’t call Monday, when I was so tired and low energy…I suspect my answers and my enthusiasm wouldn’t have come across over the phone Monday.
I also finally got a first draft of a guest blog written that I should have finished back right after Saints and Sinners–but got sick. I’ve been writing my Pride posts for the newsletter, and one of them triggered an idea for how to write the guest blog, so I free-formed it and sent it to the blog host for input and feedback. (It also gave me an idea for another book, because of course it did–NoWay Out, only the sex worker is gay which will be a big Washington scandal, would it not, with his Capital Hill clientele–because I need more ideas, don’t I?) I also spent some time with fiction last night after I got home from work, but my mind was a bit foggy so am not entirely sure if the work I did was any good or not, but…I wrote some fiction at long last!!!!
Huzzah!!!
After that, though, I was very mentally drained and felt tired. I made dinner for us, and then just settled in to relax for the few hours of the evening allotted to being awake before retiring early in preparation for today. I do feel better, every day–even tired and listless the other day wasn’t as bad as it used to be, so even that is getting better than it was. I’m trying not to overdo it, but at the same time I am rather chomping at the bit trying to get back into doing things and acting like I’ve completely recovered. I am not, and I need to remember that going forward when I am itching to do something which is pushing it–like pushing myself to write and do chores when I am already tired from everything I’ve always done; and I think Monday was actually a result of me doing too much over the weekend, honestly. So, I need to take that lesson and remember it the next time I am feeling ambitious. Just read something. I did spend some time with The Dark on the Other Side last evening, which has me in a Gothic mood, and I think Summerhouse might also be Gothic in tone; I do know The Mystery of the Haunted Mine is actually a Western treasure hunt set in Arizona. (And it was one of my favorite books as a kid.)
I also realized I don’t have to do a Pride newsletter every day for the month. That’s a lot of pressure on me to produce while at the same time writing this every day, and I kind of need to save some of my writing mojo for my fiction–even if it’s just thinking and taking notes. The newsletter was supposed to be different from the blog in that it wasn’t daily; I was even limiting it to once a week for a while there–as I said, even I get tired of my voice sometimes, let alone dropping into people’s inboxes who have other things to do. This meant another difference between it and the blog; the blog is stream of consciousness whatever I’m thinking about while I wake up over coffee and breakfast every morning (I am having Honey-nut Cheerios, a piece of toast with peanut butter and a second with strawberry belly–I prefer preserves and will remember that the next time I get some–and a slice of marble coffee cake); the newsletter had no pub dates, so to speak, so I could spend more time with those essays and go far more in depth than I can here, so why am I killing myself trying to send one every day? Am I no different from corporations, marginalizing queer culture and life and only examining it during Pride Month and then ignoring it? No, I don’t think so. I read queer books all year, absorb queer art, and think about my queer future in a country double-downing on its vicious homophobia. Everything I write, no matter what it is, is framed through my gay gaze; I am intrinsically queer and that impacts my art, no matter what I am creating.
And I also think, since oppression is so intersectional, I can talk about anything that falls under that umbrella, because I had to unlearn so much over the course of my adult life, and I am incredibly lucky to have so many kind friends who didn’t mind teaching me how to think in a more macro kind of way–every lesson unlearned was a revelation and gave me a new perspective on how to see the world, and how wrong the way I used to see it was. I’m not perfect, by any means, and I learn every day while acknowledging the possibility I still have bad things I was taught yet have not unpacked.
But I went to bed early–I was falling asleep in my chair after watching one episode of Department Q, which we are loving–and slept super well. I feel good this morning, awake and rested, which is very odd for a Wednesday, but it is very pleasing in our eyes.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, everyone, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.
I love these old dirt country roads, and the Spanish moss just makes it look even cooler.The image is very evocative, and I am already thinking of a story inspired by the picture.
Yesterday was a decent day. I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked, but I did get the first Pride newsletter out, as well as my review of Murder Takes a Vacation, as well as my future newsletters about James Bond and Vicky Barr. I had groceries delivered, did some chores, but only started my rereads of The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels and The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, but didn’t crack the spine on Summerhouse. I did feel a trifle tired mentally and physically, so basically just took it easy for the rest of the day. I slept well last night, which felt great, and I am curious to see what this week will bring.
I also remembered an old short story that I couldn’t get to work–the premise was just really “no one could ever be that fucking stupid”–but now? Now I have a much better idea for said premise, because it happens all the time. I am interested in pursuing that story, because the dynamic between the two main characters is something I did enjoy writing, but…like I said, the premise that led to their meeting was kind of too stupid to believe, but technology has advanced enough now that the ‘on-line accident’ is believable now.1
I watched television for most of the day. We finished both The Better Sister (superb, highly recommend) and Big Mouth, which is now over for good, and we’ll need to find something else to watch. We started something called Adults, but after two episodes I am not sold on it. I also had the LSU game on in the evening, while I finished some chores so the Lost Apartment wasn’t a complete disaster area this morning when I came down for coffee, toast, and cereal. (All I have to do is load the dishwasher and turn it on tonight and I’ll be all set.)
I am hoping to get back to writing fiction this week. I want to finish this one short story and then look at some submission calls I’ve bookmarked. I am kind of excited about writing again, and I really need to be getting back to it. As I said, the ideas and creativity are running rampant in my head, and I really need to get those muscles back into shape so I can get back to actually writing my ideas up. The will is there, of course, the question is whether or not my brain and typing fingers will cooperate.
I guess we’ll see.
Well, we get sent home from the office before I could post this; we don’t have water–and without water we can’t operate or see clients (not to mention the bathroom situation) so I get to work at home the rest of this low-energy day, so let’s see how it goes, shall we?
I’ll be back on the morrow….thanks as always for stopping by.
Italian ballerino Roberto Bolle
I do find it interesting that something that would have been so stupid of a mistake to make with technology eight years ago could easily happen today; isn’t that sort of thing supposed to become harder with more tech advances? One would think, at any rate, and it does make you wonder about these “tech geniuses”, doesn’t it? ↩︎
Saturday in the Lost Apartment and all is well. I slept incredibly well last night, and feel energized and rested this morning. I am up at six again this morning, thanks to my alarm cat, but I don’t mind in the least. I have some chores I left for this morning to do; and I want to spend the day reading, doing chores, and relaxing…and maybe, just maybe, writing some more. #Madness, right?
Yesterday I was up before six–so much for sleeping in, but my body clock was clearly reset during my illness and I am now a morning person for the first time in my life–so I did some chores and even some writing (!!!) before it was time for me to start Remote work for the day. When I finished with work, I ran some errands–had to have bloodwork done again, made groceries, picked up the mail and a prescription–and relaxed a bit before going to dinner with a very dear friend. I didn’t get many chores done around the house other than laundry and a load of dishes; but I even wrote more on that short story that’s proving to be harder to write than I thought it would be. There are several short story calls I have bookmarked that I would like to try to write something for. Yes, I am feeling a bit more ambitious, and am also thinking a lot more clearly. There’s still fog in my brain sometimes, and there are times when my attention span is all over the place, but I also feel like when I am clear-headed, I am thinking a lot more practically, confidently, ambitiously, and pragmatically, which is the best mental space to be in to reflect on yourself, where you are in your life, and what you want this inevitable third act of your life to be like. I am making plans again…and while life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into plans at the worst possible time with the plans having to be completely discarded entirely sometimes and replanned all over again, but it helps me feel like I have some control over my life and my career and everything that goes along with that.
And I do like feeling like I have some control over my life, you know?
I need to get back to writing, but I am being patient and letting my brain and my body dictate what I do every day. There are days when my job takes all my energy and all my brainpower. So be it, you need to rest when you get home–if you’re not too tired to focus you can read, and of course, there’s always something to watch on television. (I am itching to finish bingeing The Better Sister, for example.)
I had dinner with a dear friend of several decades standing last night at a delightful restaurant on Magazine Street that we go to whenever we dine together, Lilette. I even had a solitary cocktail, the Lilette Rouge, which was delicious, and I do recommend the Kobe burger with cheese; it’s mouth-watering good. The conversation was wonderful, and I kept thinking to myself all evening about how lucky I am. I do have the most amazing friends–smart and talented and witty and fun to be around. I am tired of drama and want no part of that anymore–sort yourself out, thanks, but I won’t be a part of that process. Even the three friends that I lost recently; my God, they were Dorothy Allison and Felice Picano and Victoria A. Brownworth–queer writing icons. It’s so very easy to get down about my life, especially when I’m not feeling well (I was so morose when I was so sick and in the hospital; it was why I wasn’t really responding to anyone or posting–so much maudlin self-pity about how everything sucked!!!), but the truth is I’ve had quite a marvelous second act, which made the horrors of the first act so worth experiencing and living through. Every dream I had as that lonely terrified gay kid with no friends that was bullied and shamed daily, has come true for me. No one can ever take away the writing I’ve published, the awards I was short-listed for, or anything I’ve ever accomplished in my publishing career. I got my first by-line in 1996, in Minneapolis, and from there I built a haphazard, all over the map, hard to define career that has given me endless amounts of satisfaction, pride, and joy for the last almost thirty years (yes, in January of next year I will mark my thirtieth year as a published writer! It’s been an interesting journey).
And yet my first college creative writing professor told me I would never publish anything, ever.
But yes, dinner was lovely. I should make plans and do things with people more often–when I’ve gotten my strength back. I’ve increasingly isolated myself since the pandemic; I think I went into hermit mode during the shutdown and never really emerged from it. I also had dehydration sickness that first summer of COVID, before vaccinations; and somehow managed to stave off COVID itself until the summer of 2022, and I’m still not sure I ever completely recovered from that before the next thing, which was my arm injury, the ten month wait for the surgery. And then Mom died, and I had the oral surgeries before the arm surgery, and then I was in rehab/PT for the arm, trying to recover from that trauma, and I think I just burnt out from everything, because I was also still writing on top of all of that. In a way, this sickness and physical/mental collapse was necessary, for me to get some rest and recuperate and stop focusing on being miserable all the time because I’m not and have no reason to be, and remember to keep seeing things as challenges to best rather than something else I need to do.
See what having dinner with a beloved friend who is just a radiant flame of positive energy can do for me? It’s wonderful to have friends who make you feel like you can do anything, and I actually have a lot of those in my life.
Like I said, I need to keep reminding myself to focus on how fucking lucky I am and what a truly lovely life I lead. I get to write, you know? I love writing. I love creating and making new characters and inventing places and coming up with the inevitable story from who those characters actually are and behave is my favorite thing to do, and I also love to challenge myself when I am writing. This little story I am working on–for which there is no market that I am aware of–is really about faith, and how far someone who considers herself devout will step outside of that when presented with a horrible situation; but I have to make sure that, morally challenged as she may be, why she makes the choices she does. It’s been slow going so far, but if I pull it off, “The Witch Bottle” will be a good story. See? This is what I love. I commented the other day that I seem to be having better luck writing the blog and the newsletter rather than fiction lately, but I’m having some very good ideas, and I do think my next revision of Hurricane Season Hustle will turn it into quite a fine piece of work.
I really can’t wait to get back to writing fiction again.
Damn. I am so fucking lucky.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll most likely be back tomorrow morning.
A marvelous panel I was on (see? Lucky!) at Minneapolis Bouchercon the morning after the airline lost my suitcase. Attica Locke, Karen Dionne, me in the back, Edwin Hill, David Heska Wanbli Weiden and Nancy Johnson. My imposter syndrome was off the charts that day!
Queer and Loathing in America 