Tag: Christianity

Act of Contrition

Thursday and it’s my last day in the office for the week, and I’m kind of glad to not have to get up tomorrow morning. This week hasn’t been terrible as far as being tired or sleepy or feeling worn out as I was–or has this been the case now for a while and I wasn’t paying attention? (That does tend to happen quite a bit.) It’s not sleepiness that causes me to hit the snooze button; it’s how comfortable and relaxed I am in the bed and under the pile of blankets that makes me not want to get up…and that’s every morning, not just the ones when I have to get up early.

Everyone is still reeling from the loss of Dolly Parton–who kept her cancer diagnosis private so “people wouldn’t worry” (so typical)–and it is very sad. I’ve been meaning to rewatch The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas for any number of reasons; maybe this weekend would be a good time? Maybe so; I saw it in the theater back when it was released and greatly enjoyed it, despite its many flaws. Naturally, there was some trash on-line who decided to be nasty about Dolly; there was one bitch in particular whose account eventually disappeared–her biggest reason for calling out Dolly’s mourners is because Dolly recorded a duet with Kid Rock and defended it. Oh my God, why wasn’t she burned at the stake? I believe that particular piece of shit may have either blocked me (I didn’t engage so not likely) or deleted her account. There was another one to that also trended for a while–a redheaded pile of dog shit I had already blocked. Anyone who is being shitty about Dolly Parton is a fucking piece of shit themselves. Dolly was the purest example of living Christianity we maybe ever had–so it wasn’t surprising that both the far right and the far left came for her. They really are the same people.

And now, Tim Curry, too? I’ve loved him since the first time I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the performance was so fucking iconic that everyone who’s played the role since (sorry, Luke Evans) has just mimicked Curry’s performance and never quite equaled the master. He was usually the best part (or one of the best, at least; he did make a movie with Madeline Kahn, after all) of everything and anything he was in; his Cardinal Richelieu made the execrable remake of The Three Musketeers in the 1990s–and that’s a story I love, so for me to hate the film it had to be bad, right?–bearable. In fact, that was my entire opinion on the movie: Well, at least Tim Curry was in it. And yes, as I wrote about for my newsletter, seeing Rocky Horror when I was nineteen or twenty was eye-opening and mind-altering. He was just so out there and erotic and sensual and so not like anything I’d ever seen or imagined before (well, besides Liza in Cabaret)…Curry was a cultural touchstone for me, much as Dolly was.

What a shitty fucking week this has been, am I right?

Celebrity deaths generally don’t hit me very hard, with a few exceptions (Whitney Houston is one), but Dolly kind of left me off-balance, and the follow-up punch with Tim Curry while already reeling was very disconcerting. I ran an errand on the way home from work last night, and once I was home I just settled in for the night, mindlessly watching short documentaries about the Pacific War and thinking about the book. OH! A marvelous thunderstorm has just rolled in! It’s pouring rain outside! That will make driving to work fun this morning! (I actually don’t mind driving in the rain–safe and snug and dry inside the car while all hell breaks loose outside of it–but I do mind other drivers in the rain, who are absolutely terrifying here. You’d think it never rained here the way drivers here lose their minds driving in it.)

So, Janky Jeff is letting the Space Nazi build a “space port” here in Louisiana; on the Gulf Coast in Vermilion Parish…you know, on the wetlands1 that are at or below sea level–what we call a . What could possibly go wrong? A Category 3 storm surge will wipe it clean, if it doesn’t sink in the marsh first (concrete is heavy; which is why we can’t keep the roads up in New Orleans). But I am sure Janky Jeff and the Space Nazi did environmental impact studies in an endangered wetlands and…ha ha ha ha! NO they didn’t. I’d be surprised if they even did a feasibility study. This is going to help Louisiana continue to erode into the ocean and is going to destroy or wreak havoc on the ecosystem. I wonder how much Janky Jeff pocketed for this deal? Senate candidate Julia Letlow certainly has pocketed some.

Pecan Island Spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.

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

This picture captures the essence of how I viewed New Orleans when we first moved here–a decaying yet still beautiful place with wild overgrowth. I think this may be the house they used for the exteriors for Mayfair Witches, as opposed to the actual house at First and Chestnut which is the actual house from the books.
  1. Pecan Island, the site, is what we call a chênière, a sandy ridge with live oaks. ↩︎

erotica

erotic…erotic…put your hands all over my body..

Madonna really recorded some bangers, didn’t she? (She still is; really enjoyed her latest record.)

So here we are on Wednesday Pay the Bills Day again, and wow, this month has certainly flown past like nobody’s business, hasn’t it? September looms, and there are even college games this weekend (nothing I’m interested in watching; but if an SEC team was playing I’d watch.

Dolly died yesterday, or at least, her passing was reported by her family on her social media channels. I’m a little taken aback, honestly, because there was something eternal about Dolly and she would always be here to help where she can and spread love and joy wherever she went. RIP, sweet princess! At least you’re with Carl again. Usually when a celebrity dies, I think oh that’s a shame if they were someone whose work I admired and pity when it’s someone I loathe (don’t try to school-marm shame me over that, either. I’ve watched too many good people die young to waste my time and energy and sympathy on a piece of shit that’s finally been flushed; not very Dolly of me, I know, but it’s who I am). Prince saddened me, but this was like a 2 x 4 to the forehead. Dolly was hardly perfect, but she was the best example of a real Christian, trying to do good to make up for whatever harm she may have caused. She distilled Christianity down to its core elements: kindness, charity, and empathy. There’s a reason she often got type cast as an angel, you know. What an incredible loss to the world.

And I will never get over the fact she wrote “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You” on the same afternoon. I mean…wow.

Yesterday wasn’t bad, outside of losing Dolly. I wasn’t quite as groggy when I got up yesterday morning and felt pretty good all day. Sparky was incredibly needy when I got home, so he demanded a lap and some cuddles to feel safe and secure again. He’s very neurotic, much more so than any other cat we’ve had; when we boarded him the last time I went to Alabama he was very traumatized and terrified; his abandonment as a kitten must have been very traumatizing for him…to the point I don’t think we can ever board him again. (It’s hard enough thinking that the cat thinks you’re dumping him again…) Paul was late getting home, and when he did we watched an Outer Banks, in which John B and Sarah ran off to New Orleans to find her mother, who has the scytale, which…it’s one of those insane treasure hunt plots that sounds even more insane when you try explaining it, so I won’t. (Every time someone said “the Big Easy” Paul and I said, in unison, don’t call it that. LOL. And we’re not entirely sure it was actually filmed here…somehow they got to a body of water here without going over a levee, and it couldn’t be the river because there was no current.) Every time I start to wonder if I am still a New Orleanian… I see something that makes me think oh, yes, you still are a snobby New Orleanian.

If I’ve learned anything from watching Game of Thrones, it’s you can never go wrong wondering what the worst reason for someone to do something like this–and you’ll only go wrong due to a failure of your imagination to realize just how corrupt, vile, and disgusting some human beings can be. When I saw the horrible golf club commercial, my jaw literally dropped. As I was reading some of the social media postings about it, I assumed it was probably bad…but I had no idea how bad. I still can’t believe a company in this year of our Lord 2026 was okay with this commercial. The fact that the man shoving and threatening the woman is a co-founder of Good Good, who made the ad, tells me one thing–they’re all misogynist pigs who think violence against women is absolutely legitimate and okay and funny. (After all, same co-creator posted a selfie with the creature from the spray-tan lagoon, so yeah, I’m sure he respects women) Anyway, Callaway, the golf accessory company they made the video for? Their stock tanked and they’re buying it back! Sounds like some market manipulation to me, and yes, evil. “Yes, this will make everyone mad and people will start dumping their stock and the pigs we really market to will appreciate it, think it’s funny, and maybe will even use their drivers on their wives! And we won’t lose sales and we get a lot of stock back! Win! Win!”

Maybe I’m cynical, but this is the world we live in. I do think this was a ploy to manipulate their stock. But I don’t think the outrage is going to go away. Ask Target how that went for them. And yes, that is the worst reason I could think of for posting that ad; but the reality is probably even worse to the point I can’t imagine it…and I don’t mind that failure of imagination.

Heavy sigh.

I also managed some work on the book yesterday–not any actual writing-writing, but background work and realizing I need to do some of the work I should have done before I started writing the book, but I also wanted to get started to get me going on it. I need to focus, though…but I do think I’m getting better about things like that. Baby steps.

Oh! I sent out another newsletter yesterday! You can read it here, if you like.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I will check in with you again tomorrow for my last day in the office for the week!

Former collegiate wrestler turned onlyfans model Wrestle Chris.

Lift ‘Em on Up

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I did stay in bed later this morning on purpose because it imply fet so marvelous. I had a small replacement fan delivered yesterday afternoon, and it ran all night and I didn’t wake up once, instead going into an incredibly deep and restful sleep for nearly ten hours! Yesterday was kind of a nice, low energy day around here. Paul is back to working with his trainer and going to the gym again, and so he was gone most of the afternoon. I slept later yesterday, and had a bit of a sleep hangover; I was back to feeling rested and not tired, but my batteries were a bit low. I ordered some things to have delivered, and picked up and organized whenever Sparky wasn’t insistent on my lap for hugs and cuddles and naps, which was also nice. Relaxing is always important for both physical and mental health, and my stamina is getting better. I did get a fan delivered yesterday, to make sure I had both the breeze and noise while sleeping last night. I didn’t read any of my book, but I read some of my work in progress, which counts, doesn’t it? I think this morning I’ll read some of the book I’m reading, which I am enjoying. It’s nice to wake up feeling rested and good.

I’m also late with the newsletters, which I am blaming on being “off” all week. I did do some writing this past week, but not much, and I am definitely behind on everything I am working on. It’s a shame that the response I am writing to that little gatekeeping shit who wrote that op-ed for the New York Slimes recently, trying to restrict the community to those he feels “truly belong” as opposed to, how did he say it? Straight kids trying to be cool? I was very angry when I started writing it, but am glad I waited and let it sit, so I can be very cold and factual as I dismantle his bigoted (and hardly Christian) argument.

Honestly, I had no interest in seeing The Odyssey , and it had nothing to do with it being “woke.” (Which didn’t seem to hurt its opening weekend ticket sales). It’s more along the lines that I’ve always thought Odysseus was kind of a dick; Greek “heroes” aren’t really heroic in the modern sense (the Hero’s Journey is the protagonist’s journey, just like romance originally meant something different than it does now, as did mystery); which always confused me when I was fascinated by the Trojan War (I’ve always wanted to write about Troy) and Greek mythology. Heracles was most certainly not a hero in the sense that the modern American definition thinks of as heroic–and while some of his monstrous behavior could be excused away as acts of the gods, not all of them were because of Hera or some other Olympian with a grudge. (I’ve also wanted to write about Heracles since I was a kid.)

Since I was on low-energy mode yesterday, we did watch Sugar, and a couple of episodes of Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, which really needs to ditch the soapy time travel melodrama of the cast of characters and more on the monsters, which is why we are watching. Godzilla finally has shown up–it’s funny how these same monsters traumatized me as a child, watching Creature Features on the television, giving me bad dreams for weeks after seeing one, and now I love them–which was vastly overdue. The problem with the focus on the melodrama always makes me zone out a bit, which means I miss key things about the monsters by the same team who are also studying the monsters and predicting patterns of behavior and movement–and also where they come from, hence the time travel melodrama. Sugar? No notes. Colin Farrell is fantastic, and the show is well done and well written and extremely clever.

I have to order some things for delivery today or tomorrow; I haven’t decided. I ordered things yesterday so I didn’t have to leave the house, since we were in a d (“feels like 110!”) so I decided going to the gate to get things or out to the trash to dump garbage and the recycling was enough; the sun glaring off my windshield was blinding and I don’t want to think about how hot the car is on the inside. We’re in another heat advisory today, with the ‘feels like’ at about 112, hence ordering for delivery yet again.

The times in which we live, where Taco Bell has replaced the CDC and Waffle House the National Weather Service. Had someone told me this would be my senior years when I was even middle-aged I would have laughed so hard. An anti-vaxxer in charge of public health and food safety? Let’s remember, the agencies that would have worked on these things were gutted by DOGE, Elon, and his ketamine fueled college-age boys? Where are those little shits now? I know they aren’t behind bars where they belong.

There are two tropical messes trying to form in the upper Gulf, just off the coast, and it will of course affect us with some rain and possible flooding from Tuesday through the next weekend. Heavy sigh–but I am looking forward to the thunderstorm.

Pity about the Tates being arrested for raping and trafficking children. Hope they enjoy dying in prison.

And on that cheerful note–I approve of predators being arrested–I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the living room to read for a bit before getting cleaned up and heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be here again tomorrow morning. Till then!

This artwork is “The Tree of Forgiveness” (1881–1882) by English Pre-Raphaelite painter Sir Edward Burne-Jones. The painting depicts a scene from classical mythology, specifically the legend of Phyllis and Demophoön.
It illustrates the moment Phyllis, transformed into an almond tree, emerges from the bark to embrace her lover, Demophoön, who has returned filled with remorse. (If you ask me, he looks terrified and like he’s trying to escape. Maybe that’s the myth?)

Suffer the Little Children

Monday morning and it’s raining–there was a flash of lightning as I got up. I’m not sure how long it’s been raining already, but I suspect the deep sleep had something to do with it, as well as how comfortable the bed felt this morning. It looks like it’s going to rain most of the day, too, and more all week. Huzzah! I love rain, even if it makes me sleepy and want to curl up under blankets all the time. But we’re not in a flood warning or watch (the city did flood the other day, in all the usual places), so getting to and from work shouldn’t be an issue. I need to stop on the way home to pick up a couple of things, too. But I feel good and rested this morning, which is a very good thing. I did some more picking up and so forth yesterday while Paul watched the Wimbledon final, so the place looks decent this morning–always a nice way to start the week.

I read more of Rough Pages yesterday, and it’s really quite excellent. Lev’s work is very important, and this book focuses on gay literature and books at a time when they were considered obscene and unpublishable, educating while entertaining. It’s easy to forget that when I first came out, my sex life was a crime–punishable with a prison sentence if convicted. Homophobic cops, as Lev depicts in his work, loved raiding gay bars and breaking heads and ruining lives (bars in New Orleans continued to be raided for “public indecency” even after Lawrence v. Texas ended sodomy laws nation-wide). It’s also true that often times gay bars were owned by the mob and used to launder money, as well as pay off the cops. Cops, there to protect and serve ostensibly, requiring bribes to leave the queers alone. It’s not like this is a secret–I guess people just always assume cops are there to do good, and that’s the default we’re all trained to fall back on, when the truth is you have no idea how sideways an interaction with a cop can go at any time…and it’s worse, far far worse, for Black people.

It was another peaceful day around here yesterday. Sparky adapted to us both being home and went back to being his occasionally aloof self–not needing constant attention, but needing some every once in a great while–but that will definitely change while I am gone today. Paul continues to improve even more with every passing day; he really should be the poster child for rapid recovery.

Not only did Lindsey Graham pass from this mortal coil Saturday (give Satan a big hug for me once you’re all processed and assigned to a fire pit, Lindsey!) but rapist Conor McGregor got his ass beat that same night and blew out his knee, praise be. The world seems to be healing. One of those bigoted Giant pitchers got sent down to the minors, too. Aw, gee, bigot, maybe your God also thinks you’re a piece of shit and need to learn some humility…after all, it’s not your place to judge, is it? You’re not god, and you even suck at your job. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, bitch. May you never play another major league game–and never forget you achieved your dream before you threw it away happily with both hands. Pray harder, pig.

I also worked on the book. I’ve been stuck a bit with Chapter Two, so moved on to three and that went very well, and am quite pleased. We also finished watching The American Experiment, which did such a marvelous job of depicting what we are in the process of throwing away that I can’t help but recommend it; it was also very honest in reminding everyone that these liberiies and ideals were meant for white men only at the time.

Sigh. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I haven’t driven in rain in a while, so this drive to the office this morning should be interesting. Hope you have a lovely Monday wherever you may be, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning. See you then!

The thing about walking around your neighborhood that’s so great in New Orleans is you will always be shown poetic and inspirational images. This, for me, is a great story prompt.

Out a Touch

Tuesday morning, after a busy and overcast Monday. I had to do my bimonthly injection yesterday morning, which went without a hitch, and this time I wouldn’t have even remembered it was coming up if I hadn’t seen my specialist last week. (This is good news, because this was the first time since starting doing this last August that I couldn’t tell about two weeks ahead of time that it was coming due. Huzzah!) It’s nice to know that I can manage the chronic illness I have to live with until I die. I slept decently; very relaxing and restful, but I kept waking up every now and then. I also wasn’t terribly hungry yesterday after the injection, either, but don’t know if those two things are related. We were busy yesterday in the clinic, too, and will be again today before two light days and a slide into a long weekend, which will be lovely.

I forgot to mention that we also watched that documentary, Maternal Instinct, over the weekend and can I just say, what a horrible bunch of people on every level! Everyone involved was essentially a piece of shit. (All I could think about while watching was how conservatives always paint small town/farm country life as “real America“–as opposed to, you know, the urban dwellers who actually drive the engine of the economy? Remember Joe Sixpack and Joe the Plumber and other “real Americans” Sarah Palin and her ilk pushed on us relentlessly? Fuck off now and forever. You just know who everyone in that documentary voted for–you can smell it through the television.) The young woman was a narcissistic psychopath with an unhinged grip on reality. Everyone who enabled her cons–the greedy boyfriend who saw dollar signs, his friends, his mother–are all at least partly responsible for the murder of that poor young woman and her baby. They went along with everything, even past when they knew better, because they thought there would eventually be a pay off, even as that possibility became more and more remote. Horrible, really. (Small towns and rural areas are a lot more like Peyton Place than anyone ever wants to admit. Grace Metalious was right, and she’s still right.)

I was also enormously disappointed to see the San Francisco Giants, of all the MLB teams, welcomed homophobia into the dugout for Pride Night. Speaking of right-wing bullshit, am I right? Oooh, those poor big men who get paid a shit ton of money to play a children’s game had their little delicate masculine he-man fee-fees hurt, and anyone who believes that had anything to do with Christianity is literally too stupid to engage with. It’s pretty sad that we look up to athletes as role models in the first place when so many of them clearly aren’t (Carter Hart, anyone?), but it’s hilarious to me how many men’s masculinity is so fragile and weak that it turns toxic, like those four needle-dicks who’ve never brought a woman to orgasm and never will and moreover, wouldn’t care. We learned a lot about the Giants organization and their players on Pride Night, and as far as I am concerned I hope they never win a pennant ever again. The team condoned it, so everyone from the owners to the batboys are complicit in homophobia. Nice look for a team that represents SAN FUCKING FRANCISCO.1

Remind me why Pride isn’t necessary anymore?

I was also highly amused to see that Hollywood is doing what it always does: missing the point while trying to squeeze every last penny possible out of a trend. The enormous success of Heated Rivalry was a huge surprise to them all–and it wouldn’t have been what it was had an American network been involved…they’re so afraid of gay sexuality and sensuality they would have turned Shane into a side piece and Ilya would end up with a woman…and his relationship with women would gotten a lot more air time. So what lesson did Hollywood learn from the gay hockey show? People want more hockey romance! Hockey is the key! So, instead of more gay romances, we’re getting a shit ton of straight ones about hockey. And if the new straight hockey romances (which won’t have any of the sexual assaults and misogyny straight hockey players are known for–I’ve not forgotten the US Olympic Men’s Team’s shenanigans, have you?) fail? They’ll consider Heated Rivalry an outlier.

Juneteenth is this weekend, and it’s more than just another federal holiday. I guarantee every white racist bitching and whining about it plans to not take the day off with pay and is going to work all day, right? If you take the day off with pay you’ve surrendered your right to complain about it. See how that works? You’re free to not participate. Do some heavy labor, that’ll teach the wokesters!

Honestly, the decline and fall of the American empire is so deserved.

I did do some writing yesterday, so hurray for that, and I hope to get some done this evening as well. I need to do some chores, though, before I can chill out for the evening.

And on that note, tis off to the spice mines for me. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and here’s hoping it includes tacos! See you tomorrow!

  1. The funniest thing to me is straight white male homophobes, always so scared a gay man might actually, hit on them or something, are inevitably the ugliest unfuckable things you’ll ever see–and you know they don’t wash their ass. Dream on, bitches. ↩︎

Rhinestone Cowboy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Wouldn’t Have Missed It (For the World)

Tuesday!

It feels a little off to be heading for the office for the first time this week today, and I will most likely think it’s Monday all day. Ah, well, there are worse things, right? (Gestures wildly at the world around me.) I was busy thinking about other things yesterday that I kind of lost track of the news. I think we’re blockading the Strait of Hormuz even though the idea was to open it? This 3-D chess is just too much for my obviously simple mind. And a congressmen from each party resigned due to credible sexual assault/harassment charges, but the adjudicated rapist is still in office? Did I miss anything besides PPP (Pedo President Pestilence) striking out at infamous fifth-place finisher Riley Gaines because she played the blasphemy card on His Imperial Flatulence? (I do wish he’d added, “she’s a loser. She finished fifth.”) The worst part of our current situation is not knowing what news is actually true or not. I literally hate this timeline. I’ve been checking out both the BBC (not entirely trustworthy) or Al-Jazeera (same) but…I trust them more than I do our American outlets.

I also think I have actually figured out why I am having difficulty reading anymore; it’s because I have to read for my works-in-progress and since I am not reading those, my mind isn’t letting me read for pleasure. It’s more of that evangelical Christian work-for-reward mentality that was drilled into me as a child (more of the miseducation I and so many others received); if you’re not reading for your work you cannot read for your pleasure. So, so puritanical, and so typical of the American Dream mindset, whose very first corollary is you must work your life must be about work and should revolve around work and then you die.

I personally think that kind of live to work mentality is a huge problem, but…what can I say? My preference is always to be relaxing. Sue me for not fitting into the American norm (AGAIN). I also think this is the smarter way to live, but others are certainly free to disagree. Maybe the difference is because my true calling isn’t a 9-to-5? My writing has always been, to me, my true job, which gives me a healthy distance from my day job; I don’t depend on it for my self-worth or self-esteem. I perform my job efficiently, my clients like me, and I believe in the work I do while I’m there, which puts me ahead of so many Americans. I never wanted to chase dollars; contentment was always more appealing to me and feeling well-rounded. I haven’t even let my actual career my life, either. It’s satisfying. I enjoy writing, even the drudgery parts I have to endure to finish telling the story I want to tell. Some discipline is necessary, of course; probably more than I certainly have allowed lately, that’s for sure. I want to get back to writing some fiction this week; anything, really, be it a short story or a book.

We started watching a new show on Apple TV this past weekend, Stick with Owen Wilson. It sounded like it could have been like Ted Lasso, but at the same time it’s another tired sports cliche show so I wasn’t wild about starting it. Well, it is like Ted Lasso, and it’s heartwarming and sweet and hits all the right notes for people who’ve been looking for their next great watch. I’m looking forward to watching more.

And huzzah for Hungary! The masses are rejecting authoritarianism (Trumpism?) worldwide, and it is wondrous in our eyes. It also gave me hope for the midterms. MAGA is burning to the ground, but they still have Fox and all the rest of the lamestream media carrying their water for them–and even the ones who are leaving MAGA aren’t becoming progressives; they’ll just hibernate until their next demagogue comes along. We’re always so relieved the threat is over that we kind of want to just get back to normal without any punishment, or atonement…just like after the Civil War. Are we finally going to deal with all of this shit from the past, or are we going to leave it to fester and rot and poison the country from within yet again? My guess is the latter; it’s what we always do.

Hungary

I don’t feel tired this morning, either. I didn’t want to get up at my usual time, but did and I am not as tired as I worried I’d feel. I am going to make groceries on my way home from work tonight, and I have some things I need to get done. I did spend some time after work yesterday cleaning up the kitchen and even doing the floors, and it was nice coming downstairs to an orderly kitchen this morning. I shaved my head yesterday, too, so am feeling a bit better about how I am presenting to the world today–I hate how gray what little hair I have left is–and I have a sink full of dishes I need to wash tonight after work. But the coffee is kicking in and I am feeling good, so I am going to go head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Given my lifelong affinity for ancient Egypt, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that I became a cat lover.

Southern Cross

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starshine

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well. I was very tired last night when I climbed the stairs and went to bed, Sparky in tow, and the little menace let me sleep in a bit this morning. I had planned to do errands this morning or in the early afternoon, but am not so sure now. Maybe after some more coffee? Maybe. Yesterday was nice and chill; I finished watching Traitors New Zealand, which was fun, but now I am out of Traitors to watch. Hmmm. I am planning on watching that manosphere documentary today at some point–I may have to take breaks from it because it might get on my nerves (if everyone’s an alpha, no one’s an alpha, and following one automatically makes you a beta, so I’ve never really been able to wrap my mind around the concept), and I should head over to Rouse’s for a few things today. I want to do some reading today, as well.

I did take a Lyft down to the opening reception for Saints & Sinners last night, but it was in the evening and so I was already getting tired. I also learned that it’s not good for me to stand for a while, either. My legs were exhausted, my Achilles tendons screaming, and my hips hurt by the time I climbed into my Lyft home. I think I was there about an hour? I did see Rob Byrnes, Jean and Gillian and Trebor Healey and Steven Reigns and Eric Andrews-Katz and Fay Jacobs and Carol Rosenfeld and numerous others. I also saw Dan Boyle for the first time in decades, and finally met the marvelous Jonathan Harper, which was delightful. But I was tired and there was a lot of people and I got very overwhelmed, which was also exhausting, so I was happy to come home and watch some news and rewatched Alysa Liu’s gold medal Olympic performance, which is one of my favorites of all time.

Remember the other day when I was talking about Barbara Tuchman’s book The March of Folly, in which she examined several instances of nations acting stupidly and not in their own best interest? She use the Trojan Horse, the Renaissance Popes sparking the Reformation, the loss of Britain’s thirteen American Atlantic seaboard colonies, and of course, Vietnam. As I was watching some of those “MAGA regret” videos last night, or reading comments on them, I was struck again by how the greatest American folly wasn’t, in fact, Vietnam, but MAGA. It doesn’t matter that there are more anti-MAGA folks than MAGA, but Vietnam was never a popular war here, either–and yet our government continued it. This current WAR with Iran is also incredibly unpopular and expensive–spending money the right claims we don’t have for health care and food for children or infrastructure or anything that would better the state of the country and the lives of its people…but our government will always open the checkbook for a war which gives us literally nothing and makes us less safe. Why do so many people vote against their best interests so consistently?

Choices, as Tatianna would say.

The funniest thing to me is so many right-wing “thinkers” subscribe to Ayn Rand’s philosophy of what she called “enlightened self-interest,” which sounds much better than “selfish narcissism.” The irony that these fools fail to see their goddess would think them dullards and fools has always amused me. That philosophy is a very flawed theory. I have always wanted to write about its high-minded sounding justification for being a malign tumor on humanity, but that would also require me to revisit Rand’s works, and I’d rather wash down ground glass with bleach, thank you. (A friend once said of Rand, “her writing was the least of her crimes,” which makes me laugh to this day because accurate.)

Rand hated religion, by the way; she considered it a crime against humanity, and you know–stopped clock. So, you cannot follow Rand’s philosophy while being a Christian. Sit with that a while, right-wingers. (She hated it more than Karl Marx did.)

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

80’s male model Rick Edwards

Blue Denim

It’s Thursday but it feels like Tuesday. Heavy heaving sigh. But at least tonight there’s a new episode of my current obsession, Traitors, and tomorrow I don’t have to come in to the office, so there’s that. I really shouldn’t complain about the office this week, should I, since I am only in for two days? Next week is going to be a trial, methinks, and next thing you know it’s March. AIEEE!!!

Meh, there are worse things. And when am I not disoriented and confused anymore these days? Seriously.

Yesterday was actually a relatively easy day at work, which made the return to reality much easier. It was quiet, for one, and there was NO traffic on my way into the office. I managed not only to hit all the lights, but no traffic on I-10 meant I was parking the car a little more than five minutes after I drove off from the curb at home. I wasn’t very far behind on my work and was able to get caught up pretty easily. The city was in ruins as I drove in, too–St. Charles was mostly clean (the slalom course was still up) but the side streets were trashed. The good news was a lot of people were out cleaning it up, so that was nice. Back in the olden days they didn’t even get around to cleaning the Avenue at first so it was always nasty out there on Ash Wednesday. I did start to get tired in the afternoon, which is normal for my usual workdays. I ran uptown and did some errands on the way home. There wasn’t any traffic after work either–I got all the way uptown from work in less than fifteen minutes, at rush hour. I made a few groceries and got the mail and came home to a needy kitty who hadn’t been left completely alone at home since I got home Thursday afternoon, so he demanded my lap for cuddles and sleep–and cat parents know that once they’re curled up and sound asleep in a purring ball in your lap, you ain’t going anywhere. Tonight it’s going to be straight home for me after work so I can get some things done around here.

And that’s why I didn’t do anything after getting home last night–I needed to comfort Sparky, and the longer I sat there with him sleeping and purring in my lap, the more relaxed and less likely to do anything I became. I caught up on the news (ugh) and melted into my chair to the point that I went to bed before Paul got home from the office! I also slept really well, didn’t want to get up this morning, and am looking forward to no alarm tomorrow. That’s the thing with mini-vacations when you’re older–they make retirement look so appealing! But retirement isn’t probably going to happen for me for a few more years, at any rate. I felt kind of guilty last night when I climbed the stairs and headed for bed for not getting more things done around here, and I most likely won’t do anything tonight when I get home…but then, I won’t be tired the way I usually am on Thursday nights, either. I ran errands last night so I can come straight home from work this evening.

Tonight, I think I’ll try to do some reading and writing when I get home, and do some chores if I have the energy and mindset. I’ll need to ice my ankles tonight–I didn’t do it yesterday, but the left seems to be okay now, but the right still complains. It’s not nearly as bad as it was originally–and resting Achilles tendons means being stationary for a long time, and I’ve never been able to sit still for very long. But I think we’re already past the hump on those bastards, and hopefully some more icing will patch up the right as well.

I woke up this morning to the news the British police have arrested Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor for his participation with Epstein1, and good for the British and especially good for the royal family for not shielding him from justice with royal privilege. This is how you do it, Americans. The funny thing about European nations investigating all of this is inevitably, they are going to have to issue arrests warrants for the American president, or statements on his involvement. The cult will never turn, of course, those hard core loyalists for whom raping, torturing and killing children isn’t a dealbreaker. He’ll say it’s a hoax like he does with everything despite all the evidence to the contrary, and they’ll soak it up like a biscuit with gravy. They honestly believe he’s in shape and virile and handsome and intelligent–not just intelligent, but smarter than everyone on the planet2. It’s mind boggling to me, and something I may never be able to entirely wrap my brain around–but I do kind of love that he’s exposed the Right for what they are–unAmerican, authoritarian, party before country, demagogues and liars and grifters. The veneer and facade and pretense they are anything else is long gone; the mask has come off completely and they’ve embraced the horror of who they really are…

And of course, go to church regularly and learn nothing. Which just goes to show…church is for those who need moral guidance and clarity, but they never learn from what they hear or read in their holy book. One of the reasons I like James Talarico so much is because he calls out the Christian Nationalism, which will be known to history as the American Heresy.

AH, my coffee is kicking in and it’s almost time to head into the spice mines. Here’s hoping we all have a lovely day, get everything done we need to get done, and get the rest we need. The times are interesting, but we can’t allow the bastards to win. See you in the morning!

Gorgeous Taylor Zahkar Perez, whom I first noticed as the first centerfold in Minx.
  1. Here’s hoping he rats everyone out for a lesser sentence. ↩︎
  2. There’s a significant difference between intelligence and cunning. He isn’t intelligent, but he is very cunning. I’m willing to grant cunning, but never intelligent. ↩︎