Tag: Canada

Goodnight Tonight

Wednesday pay-the-bills day has rolled around again (huzzah?). But we’re also halfway through the week and I am not exhausted yet, so that’s a plus? I slept very well last night, and the bed felt very comfortable this morning when Sparky and my alarm started trying to get me out from under my heavy blankets. Yesterday was a fairly good day. I finished the short story and sent it in, and now tonight hopefully I will be able to get back into writing the book again. St. Patrick’s Day is also this weekend, so I’ll be trapped at home because of the Irish Channel parade–traffic will be horrible, so I need to check the time and what day and the route and all that and plan my weekend around it.

There’s nothing more New Orleanian than planning around a parade, is there? Ah, the Crescent City life, right?

Paul got home late again last night, so after I worked on my story and did a few chores, I settled into my easy chair with Sparky for some bonding and to watch the news…which becomes more and more dystopian and insane every goddamned day. Now the government is illegally detaining and disappearing legal residents under the guise of “preventing anti-Semitism.” This is terrifying. This is one of the biggest violations of the First Amendment I’ve seen. If we have to listen to bigotry and prejudice and hatred all under the umbrella of ‘free speech,’ then everyone has to suck it up and hear speech they don’t like. It isn’t “free speech for me, but never for thee.” Everyone in this country, whether they are here legally or not, is entitled to the protections of our Constitution–which include due process. It always amazes me that people miss that part. (It’s the same kind of elitist “us v. them” that Christianity teaches them.)

And now we have someone using the highest office in the land to make car commercials in front of the White House. Talk about cheapening the dignity of the office! But the office was cheapened when he returned to it, wasn’t it? I will give him credit, as he’s accomplished several things no one thought possible in uniting Canada and Europe against us. What a lovely way to repay our allies, right? We’re going back to that horrible period between the world wars, where our economy crashes and the United States are isolated from the rest of the world….and how did that turn out for the world? SPOILER: Not well.

Sigh. I suppose we should be glad it wasn’t a McDonalds or KFC commercial.

I am so tired of living in this, the dumbest timeline of all. It’s been really amazing seeing how fragile our systems and institutions are, and how much people love to cosplay “patriotism” without understanding even the barest minimum of how to be a good citizen in this country. I’m tired of people complaining about paying their taxes but also bitching about how shitty the government is. Why are we so uneducated? Because the Right has always hated free public education and has been doing their damnedest to undermine and underfund it since its inception. The reason why societies always fail under conservatives/libertarians. Libertarians are all about the theory, but subscribing to a theory that is a fallacy will always end up with terrible outcomes. The fact that so many people don’t know how fucking tariffs work (and neither do the current administration) is a stinging indictment of public education–not to mention no longer requiring either a civics or government course. (My US Government course has proven so valuable to me over the years…like 2000, when I was one of the few people aware of what the Electoral College was and its role in elections.) But…an educated populace who knows how the government works and is capable of critical thinking would never vote conservative, so here we are. No Christian should ever vote conservative and show their face in church the following Sunday, but…

Sigh. A lot of people in our society love to cosplay at things they don’t understand.

I still haven’t started reading my next book, and I may try to dive into Moonraker tonight after I get home from my errands (Sparky needs treats!). We shall see.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later!

Yeah, Tom Cruise was most definitely NOT the embodiment of Reacher

Boogie Wonderland

Friday morning and I have the day off! I have some doctor’s appointments and an errand to run on top of that–it’s parade season and I won’t be able to leave the neighborhood from tonight around five till Sunday around six–and we are going to Costco today, too. There’s another errand, too, and I am not certain how much parade participation there will be. It’s supposed to be cold and a bit rainy all weekend, and beads hurt when it’s cold. I can do cold, I can do rain, but both together? That makes standing on the corner getting pelted with flying objects not a lot of fun. (One of my favorite parade experiences was one warm night when it was sprinkling as we went out to greet Orpheus. The crowds always start departing about halfway through Orpheus so they can get up early for Fat Tuesday, but even more than usual left that night because it started raining harder with the parade not even half over yet. Shortly, Paul and I were the only ones out there, getting drenched and getting buried with beads from the drunk riders trying to get rid of everything they could to the few of us who remained to see them pass. Staying to the end of Orpheus was why our Fat Tuesday started so much later than everyone else’s.) It’s very sunny and the sun is quite bright out there this morning, despite how cold it is. (I’m not going to bother to check–it can wait till later.) There are two parades tonight–Alla and Cleopatra.

I felt really good yesterday and rested and managed to get some things done. I did the dishes when I got home, worked on the laundry for a bit, and wrote a little bit, too. I stayed up later than usual–Paul got home late and we chatted for a while before I went to bed. Sparky tried getting me up at the usual time, but was very sweet and patient and let me sleep for a while longer before he got too hungry and insistent it was time for breakfast. I also had my first piece of cream cheese-filled king cake this morning (I bought one the other night on the way home from work, but hadn’t had any. You can imagine my shock to open the box this morning to find that there was no knife in the box (cardinal sin) but there was only about a quarter of it left. (Paul does love him some cream-cheese king cake.) I have to start getting ready to go to my doctor’s appointment, too. I made my Costco shopping list (seriously, newcomers to Costco–lists are crucial when going to Costco. I also advise going to their website before you go into you local store for the first time; the website can be set to your local store and so you can look up things to see if they’re in stock), and we’ll be heading there after I get back from the appointment. Parades also start tonight and this weekend, so once we get back…we’re pretty much trapped in the neighborhood until after King Arthur passes.

And next week I get to navigate jury duty during parades. Can’t fucking wait.

I was also a bit satisfied to see that Canada beat our national hockey team last night. I certainly never thought I’d see the day when I’d feel that way about a US national team loss, but here we are. I am ashamed and embarrassed by all these MAGA assholes talking about annexing Canada–which would wind up worse than our experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan, since it would mean that their Resistance would be majority white, so our systemic racism wouldn’t know what to do, which means atrocities on the level of Abu Gharib, if not worse.

And if you think Guantanamo Bay hasn’t had a concentration camp there for decades, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought. You can never go wrong assuming the worst about our government... and you’ll still be shocked and appalled by how awful our leadership has always been. The variances in foreign policy generally aren’t great between presidents. Obama campaigned against the forever wars when he ran in 2008, but once he was in office he didn’t really end those wars, did he? The only significant changes in our foreign policy during my lifetime came during Jimmy Carter’s presidency (governing as a Christian, he couldn’t continue supporting the regime of the Shah of Iran, which was horrifically oppressive…) or Trump. The difference is our allies supported Carter. The rest of the world is realigning to escape alliances with the United States because we are now a rogue nation. A fucking rogue, outlaw nation, led by conmen and grifters where everything is up to be looted by the billionaire class and everything else sold off for spare parts.

Now they are talking about “checking” the gold in Fort Knox. Brace yourself for a torrent of lies. Not even Goldfinger got away with going after the gold in Fort Knox, and both the book and movie picked Fort Knox because it was so impregnable. No one ever talks about the gold in Fort Knox anymore; when I was a kid everyone did. I mentioned Fort Knox the other day at work and many of my younger co-workers didn’t even know what Fort Knox was…it’s not part of the national conversation anymore, the way it was when I was a kid. “Safe as the gold in Fort Knox” used to be a saying back then. Maybe it was the influence of Goldfinger on the zeitgeist, but it was definitely there.

It’s a mad, mad, mad, mad, mad world.

And on that note, tis off to the mines of spice with me. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader

Little Things

Thirty-three degrees in New Orleans this morning, and it’s very cold here at my desk. I slept deeply and well, forgot to set the alarm last night, but woke up on time anyway–and it felt much better getting up this morning, too. I don’t feel groggy. It was also so cold last night (we had the heat on, but still) that Sparky actually slept in the bed last night, down around my feet! (Paul said after I left for work yesterday morning Sparky got into bed with him and cuddled for a while, too–we may wind up with a cuddle kitty after all!) Yesterday was exhausting at work, in all honesty. We were busy, and I was trying to get caught up on some of my Admin work around the clients, and my ass was dragging by the time I got home from work. We did finish watching Missing You, Harlan Coben’s new show on Netflix, and we enjoyed it. It’s always so nice when really lovely people find a great deal of success, isn’t it? But today is my last morning the office this week, and I look forward to my remote day and my weekend, huzzah! I’m also going to try to make it to the gym tomorrow and Sunday for my two days this week, and I think that’s something that is helping me sleep better.

These wildfires in Los Angeles are terrifying, aren’t they? I have so many friends who live in LA, and of course the last thing any of them need right now is me checking on them to see if they’re okay or out of harm’s way; I remember how awful it was when the mountains around Fresno would catch fire in the summer time. I got up one morning to go to work and it was so hazy from the smoke that the sun was red and it looked like there had been some kind of apocalypse overnight; there were no signs of life, either, and I didn’t see another car until I drove out of the neighborhood, which was creepy as all hell. I’m not sure what the solution to the California wildfire problem might be, but I know it doesn’t involve “turning on a giant faucet up in Canada.” (Jesus, how did this cretinous moron get elected? Oh yes, systemic racism and misogyny–that always works in this shithole country.) It’s always so awkward when friends are going through something horrific like this; I care, obviously, but dealing with well-meaning, concerned friends somewhere else while you’re in crisis–well, they aren’t a priority nor should they be. I never want to be one of those odious chores for someone in crisis, you know? Maybe I overthink it, which I suspect I do a lot more than is completely necessary–which is part of the whole “I never really know what to do when someone I care about is going through something awful.”

That’s where thoughts and prayers comes from, I suppose; the frustration of feeling helpless in the face of something other people are going through. It’s horrible, I know, having felt it myself on more than one occasion–an abbreviation of “thinking about you and sending you good thoughts”–but it’s constant invocation around the latest school shooting massacre (can we start calling them school massacres rather than school shootings, which softens it somewhat? “Shooting” after all, can also mean woundings, but it’s a goddamned massacre AND a terrorist attack, I might add.

And of course, the morons who hate California are out in droves, laughing at this and mocking Californians. What’s especially egregious are the people from Lousi-fucking-ana doing this and being smug about not having wildfires here “because we don’t hug trees down here” and “you get what you vote for”. Can you believe anyone from a state that is in the path of hurricanes and tropical storms every year, and floods on a regular basis without storm surge and hurricanes, would be fucking smug about us not having wildfires? Yet another example of the sorry state of Louisiana education. MAGA cultists really are the absolute worst people to ever live. I wonder what it’s like inside their brains? I always wonder how the cognitive dissonance necessary to keep them from going insane is even possible. I question myself all the time; and try to keep an open mind, so I can adapt and change my values, morals and beliefs based on new information. I can’t imagine freezing my brain in amber and defiantly refusing to learn and grow.

Although–preserving my brain in amber could give way to Jurassic Greg…

Better not, for the sake of humanity.

Okay, on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will check in either later or tomorrow. Stay warm and stay safe!

Morning Good Morning

Sunday morning and I slept late, which is fine, really. I keep forgetting that sleeping in on my days off isn’t a criminal act of any kind. After so many years of keeping myself overly busy and so I was always behind on deadlines and so forth, I’ve kind of gotten into the insane mindset that sleeping late is a waste of time that could be better utilized, writing or cleaning or reading. I do have some things I need to get done today–mostly running to the store to get the things i need to make a carrot cheesecake for a co-worker’s birthday tomorrow–but if i manage my day properly, I should be able to get things done.

I spent yesterday running errands, and trying to get things cleaned up around the house while dipping into two books–The Berlin Stories by Christopher Isherwood and Ode to Billy Joe by Herman Raucher. I ordered the latter from ebay after I started doing my research into Robby Benson for the post I made about the crush I had on him as a teenager; realizing the movie script and novel were written by Herman Raucher made me interested in reading the book, as well as wondering about Summer of ’42, and so I ordered copies of each. Billy Joe arrived yesterday, and I was curious about it. Usually novelizations were work-for-hire arrangements and the author used a pseudonym; some are better than others, of course, but just reading the first chapter of Billy Joe I can tell it’s head-and-shoulders above most novelizations, and it’s probably more thorough in telling the story than the movie was, which has me interested. I’ve also been thinking about The Berlin Stories lately, after watching the film Christopher and His Kind, and may revisit it again, too, for Pride Month; Isherwood is one of the literary gods of the gay canon, and the opening sentences of Goodbye to Berlin are perfect for parodying in the prologue to the next Scotty. I still have to finish my reread of Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes, and I think I’m going to bump the new John Copenhaver up on my TBR list. It is Pride Month, and I should immerse myself in queer lit for the month, don’t you think, Constant Reader?

I also want to write about Summer of ’42 at some point. Like The Other, it was an early read that was very influential on me, and one I often don’t think about when I do think about influential works I’ve read or make a list. I really do need to sit down and identify the books that really impacted me and the way I write; The Other, Summer of ’42, and so many, many others. I also want to write today; I didn’t really yesterday, but I did spend some time yesterday doing research; i.e. watching Youtube videos on the Oklahoma true crime story that fascinates me still, as well as ones that review the 1970’s and pop culture and what was going on those early years of the decade, which is when the book will be set. I think I am moving in a more historical direction rather than writing about the current day; Never Kiss a Stranger is set in the 1990s (1994, to be exact) and of course The Summer of Lost Boys is going to be set in either 1972 or 1973; I can’t decide which, although I suspect 1973 is going to end up being the winner when I finally have to decide.

We finished Under the Bridge last night, and it’s most excellent; I highly recommend it. Based on a true crime novel about the Reena Virk murder in Victoria, British Columbia back in the 1990’s, Reena was beaten badly by a group of girls–some she thought were friends–and then after the others left her broken and injured and bleeding along the river bank, a boy and a girl came back and basically, finished her off. The show reminded me a lot of Megan Abbott’s work; Abbott always writes about the mysterious world of female relationships, female rage and jealousy, and that’s what Under the Bridge does so beautifully. The acting is extraordinary; a real standout is Javon Walton as Warren, the young boy who kills Reena. Walton is very handsome in that young way, and I looked him up because the performance was so extraordinary, and turns out he also played Ashtray on Euphoria, who was one of my favorite characters on that show. Do watch it when you get a chance. I’m going to get a copy of the book now, too. Yay, more things to read! Just what I need!

We also started The Acolyte, but I was sleepy by the time it started and kept dozing off. No judgment on the show, I was just tired.

And on that note, I think I’ll head into the spice mines. I’ll probably finish the dishes this morning while making a grocery list, and then I’ll dash to the store and get gas. I may even finish one of these other Pride blog drafts, so have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

Does It Make You Remember

It is impossible for me to express how much books have always meant to me, and how grateful I am, to this day, to my parents and grandmother for encouraging me to read. We’ve always been a reading family–but no one ever has read as much, or as often, as I did. One of my aunts called me “the readingest child I’ve ever seen”–and she was a librarian. Books made sense to me; the worlds I escaped into whenever I opened a book made sense to me, and none of the worries or cares of my childhood bothered me when I was lost in a book. I also loved history, and thus read a lot of it when I was a kid; the basic overview history classes I had were pretty easy for me because I already knew the history in greater depth than the textbook provided.

The Scholastic Book Fairs were always my favorite day every month, and I was always so delighted when my mom would let me order a few–never all the ones I wanted, because I really wanted them all–and it was even more exciting when I found one that was also set in a period of American history. Johnny Tremain remains, to this day, one of my all-time favorites, and when I was a kid, I wanted to write both a mystery series (like the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew) as well as historical fiction.

One such book that stuck with me over the years–and didn’t have as big an impact on culture as Johnny Tremain, which won awards and was filmed by Disney–was Margaret Goff Clark’s Danger at Niagara, which was set on the US/Canadian border during the War of 1812 (which few people write about and is mostly forgotten today). A few years ago I was looking for the original hardcover of Johnny Tremain I had read as a child, when a copy of Danger at Niagara was recommended to me by the eBay algorithm. It wasn’t expensive, it was a library remainder, and I thought, what the hell and shelled out the less than five dollars including postage, and the other day while they worked on the ceiling, I reread its 120 pages.

Sorry for the not-clear cover image; my copy is a library discard and there are no clear images of this cover on-line; at least not that I can find.

Exhausted from a day of fruitless hunting, Homan Reed ate a cold supper of cornbread and milk. Hastily he banked the fire and then fell into bed, forgetting his loneliness and the ever-present danger from across the river.

He awoke at dawn, shivering under the heavy quilts, awakened as much by the silence as the cold. He lay still, listening. Gray morning light had come through the small panes of glass Uncle Oliver had carried all the way from Connecticut. A sound that usually penetrated the log walls of the cabin was missing–a sound that was part of the background of his life in this lonely frontier clearing in western New York State.

His hear began to beat too fast, and he sat up in bed, reaching for the buckskin breeches he had laid on top of the quilts. Homan was a good-looking boy, rather small for his almost fifteen years.

There really isn’t much to the story, really. Homan wakes up to realize he has slept through a raid on his little family farm, and their livestock is gone. His uncle brought Homan and his brother up here after their parents died, and his brother is off fighting in the American army in the War of 1812. The Reed place is right across the river from Canada–and of course, at that time Canada was the enemy. Putting myself into Homan’s place was exciting; trying to imagine what it was like to know that not only was the British army capable of crossing the river at any time, their Mohawk allies were also out and about and a constant threat. Shortly after the opening of the book, the American army burns a Canadian town and turns out women, children, the sick and the elderly out into the cold with no shelter or food; to the author’s credit, she makes it clear this is horrible and a war crime; Homan, who witnesses this from inside Fort Niagara (he’s gone looking for his brother and to try to enlist), is horrified and ashamed Americans could do something so heinous–and everyone on the American side of the river knows there will be retaliation and retribution.

As I reread this short book, I paid very close attention to what we now would call propaganda for American supremacy–and there was some, but not as much as I would have thought, and there was less problematic language than I would have expected for the time (it was published in 1967 originally). Yes, Clark refers to the Tuscarora and Mohawk peoples as “Indians,” as do the characters (which is what they would have said at the time, so historically accurate, if offensive) but she treats the natives with respect–no references to them not being human beings, or being savages or uncivilized or anything like that; Homan even has a friend his age from the Tuscarora people. The Mohawks are referred to as the enemy, but in the same way the British are. There are a few mentions of pro-American exceptionalism propaganda–things like “we are a growing power the world needs to respect”, that sort of thing that Americans have always believed and never questioned until the last few decades or so. But Homan is likable enough, and the story itself, of worrying about your safety and losing your home and so forth, resonates still, even if technically Homan and his family were colonizers.

I really do need to reread Johnny Tremain…