Thursday, and as always, my last day in the office this week. I was a bit tired yesterday after work, and so didn’t run an errand I’d planned, pushing it off till today–and I am not entirely certain I am not going to simply order things on-line and be done with it. I feel good this morning, but who knows how long that will last before I hit my Thursday wall? Last week, I wasn’t tired on Thursday when I got home; will I be lucky two weeks in a row? We’ll have to see. After I got home last night, I got into my easy chair and caught up on the news and The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, and was back watching news while I fell asleep in my easy chair. Paul had a board meeting last night, so Sparky and I were on our own, and he did NOT encourage me to get up and do things. Such a bad influence, really.
There was some interesting news here yesterday–a controversial Mardi Gras krewe’s founder was arrested. I shouldn’t mention this without knowing any of the details, but obviously as a New Orleans crime writer a bogus Mardi Gras krewe with an arrested founder could be very interesting. More on that later, as I am going to read up on the news reports about what is going on with this. I think it’s the Krewe of Mystic Kings, is/was going to roll on January 5th or 6th, and is something our city council president called a scam. Yeah, I am sure there’s a germ of a book in that story, don’t you? I have any number of Carnival crime stories I would love to write.
And where has December gone? How is it the eleventh already, with Christmas a mere two weeks from today? And New Year’s is three? 2025 hasn’t been the best of years, seriously, but I am not going to celebrate the end of a shitty year because inevitably the following year is even worse. Who knows what fresh horror awaits us in 2026? A depression and economic collapse, perhaps? Heavy heaving sigh. I suppose that also means if I don’t get my Christmas cards done this weekend they won’t get done. The suspense!
But I have some plans for the weekend, and I need to update my to-do list. I want to finish reading Postman, I need to write at least one newsletter, and I need to start some writing on Chlorine. I also need to outline it, do character studies, and build my Hollywood world of the 1950s and its gay underground. I also want to start taking boxes out of the attic and getting rid of more things. (As you can tell, I am now fully awake–thank you, coffee–and am raring to go.) It’s nice to be excited about writing again–it’s nice to be excited about life again, despite the world burning to the ground on the daily. It’s just so nice not to be tired all the time anymore, you know? Fatigue is absolutely real, and horrible to experience. I also have labs ordered for tomorrow morning, so I need to be up and at Quest at eight thirty tomorrow morning, which is fine. Right now, I have changed my mind and will make groceries on the way home tonight…but it will really depend on how I feel. I’m by myself in the clinic today and we’re pretty busy, so like yesterday, I may be drained and tired when I get off work. At least the grocery store is on the way home, you know?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a happy Thursday, Constant Reader, and remember–there are only fourteen shopping days left until Christmas!
A gray and wet Friday morning here in New Orleans, and it looks to be rainy and wet all day and through tomorrow as well. I have a meeting this morning before I have to see my doctor (maintenance, no complains), after which I have to take Paul to an appointment in Metairie, and we’re stopping at Le Costco on the way home. I slept great last night–rain and cold and a pile of blankets always works– and feel really good and rested this morning. Sparky was a sweet little cuddle-bug this morning, too. It’s nice and warm in the apartment this morning, and my coffee is delightful. I wonder how tired I will be after Costco? I’ll report back on that tomorrow morning. It’s going to cost us a fortune today, too, because we’ve not been in almost a month. But I am very delighted and happy to spend our money at Costco–especially since MAGA is boycotting them yet again, which is, as always,
I lied yesterday morning, unintentionally. I felt both sleepy and tired when I was writing my entry, and my hips did ache a bit as I walked around and climbed the stairs, etc. However, once I’d showered, had a second cup of coffee, and something to eat…that all went away. I wasn’t tired at work–had no trouble staying current on everything–and I was able to come straight home from the office, where I finished the dishes and did still another load of laundry. Go figure, right? The answer is to take a shower when I am dragging when I get up–a lesson I need to learn on the days I am at home, for sure. I also ordered groceries last night, which were delivered. I am looking forward to making chili tomorrow! I did some more collecting of notes for Chlorine–I’ve never had all my notes on it all together in one place, and I think this is absolutely one hundred percent necessary to getting this draft done. It’s kind of fun, honestly, to go back through my journals and see all the notes for books and stories I was writing at the time and other ideas and notes and even essays I’ve started writing in them. I’ll spend some more time with the journals tonight, and probably will get the notes all scanned in the morning tomorrow. I am really excited to dive into writing a book with my full focus and my brain and body functioning properly; it’s been a very hot minute.
I started watching another episode of The American Revolution, but Paul came home shortly after I’d started it, and we watched some of the Grand Prix final for figure skating. I want to finish that at some point this weekend, and I am taking The Postman Always Rings Twice with me to the appointments to read. It’s only 102 pages, so I should be able to get finished with it this evening. I still haven’t totally decided on what my other reads for Noirmas Season will be, but I definitely need to read one of Eli Cranor’s latest; I am behind on him. I know I am going to tackle that Dorothy B. Hughes novel, The Fallen Sparrow, and there’s some other classics on my iPad I may tackle, too. It also dawned on me last night that by making this month about noir, I’ve not been using hunks in Christmas attire for the blog, so I’ll need to rectify that going forward. Just because I am reading noir for Christmas doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy Christmas!
I also maliciously smiled this morning about the cold rainy weather–welcome to New Orleans, ICE shitheads! It also is amusing to me that the charges against Luigi Mangione might actually be dismissed because of improper police conduct in their rush to show oligarchs they are more valuable and important than other American citizens. Good.
Sigh. The times in which we live.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I have dishes to put away and laundry to finish before my meeting. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.
Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah! It’s supposed to rain heavily and be cold all through the weekend, which means trying not to leave the house that often. But..it should be cozy for cuddling with Sparky and blankets and reading, and I do have a lot of reading to do. Conference championship games are this Saturday, and I don’t really care about any of them. They really are kind of pointless with the play-offs and the goofy no divisions in major conferences any more, so yes–chores and reading and writing are my goal for the weekend. I think I am going to make potato leek soup, or white bean chicken chili–its the perfect time of year for that kind of sustenance. I love soup weather. Dad and I had lunch at a chili place in Kentucky, which was a very pleasant surprise. Paul doesn’t like red chili, though, but I can most definitely make some white bean chicken chili. One nice thing about this cold spell–Sparky has taken to sleeping in the bed with us all night, rather than just sleeping in my desk chair or the bed we have for him by the fireplace (he wouldn’t use it upstairs) and coming up in the mornings before my alarm goes off. He sleeps in a puddle by my feet, but when Paul’s here alone when its cold, he cuddles with Paul and sleeps beside his pillow.
I’m feeling a bit tired this morning, but I forgot to set my alarm and woke up at the right time anyway, which was nice. My hips ache a little bit, and my body could happily return to the pile of blankets and the warmth of my bed. Tomorrow I get to work at home and go to. meetings in the morning, but in the late morning/early afternoon I have doctors’ appointments so will need to use some sick time, I guess. That’s fine, too. We’re going to Costco tomorrow after all the appointments, which is terribly overdue. I think I’ll make that chili this weekend for sure. It’s also nice to support Costco, because of all the DEI and worker-friendly policies and the current lawsuit against the criminal administration and its horrific policies. I got some Christmas presents in the mail that I’d ordered as well on the way home yesterday. I was terribly tired when I got home last night, but I finished the laundry and put away the dishes. I still have a sink full of dishes to deal with when I get home tonight, but I also am hoping that I won’t just be so tired I’ll go straight to my chair and the news. We started watching a CNN documentary last night–New Orleans Soul of the City, the first episode dealing with the city’s food culture. It was interesting and informative, especially since I am in the process of starting a new Scotty, too. There are three more episodes, too.
We’re going to be a bit busy today in the clinic, and I am working by myself, which is okay. I am current on all my administrative work, and I think the appointments end in the mid-afternoon, so I have time to get caught up on today’s work before coming home. Huzzah! I so much prefer to be caught up on everything by the end of the week, so I can go in on Monday with nothing hanging over my head. I am not surprised I am worn down this morning–I mean, I drove almost twenty four hours last week–and I think it’s cool that I made it through this week without experiencing exhaustion or fatigue. Huzzah!
I also want to get caught up on the newsletter. I have reviews of both the Hiaasen and King novels to write, and I also need to dig into The Postman Always Rings Twice–it’s very short, and shouldn’t take me long to revisit it. I worked on gathering everything Chlorine-related some more last night, which entails finding all my notes in my journals over the years. Ideally, Saturday I can do chores, make the chili, read the book, and finish gathering everything so that Sunday morning I can start serious work on this first draft. I think I never got past the third chapter because subconsciously I was aware that what I started didn’t work and wouldn’t work as I wrote more, which would mean going back and redoing, and I hate that kind of thing. Better to catch it now before it involved a shit ton of unraveling, right? I also think I am going to do Christmas cards this weekend–but we’ll see how that goes, won’t we?
I also think my creativity has been in overdrive these last couple of months because I am getting ready to commit to writing another book–and now that I am focusing in on what I want to write, that all-over-the-place creativity is beginning to hone in, which is also super-cool.
And on that note, it has started raining so I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a glorious Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here bright and early before my meeting tomorrow!
An artist’s rendering of a very sexy Egyptian god Anubis, who was my favorite, along with Bastet, in the Egyptian pantheon.
I got here last night sometime between seven-thirty and eight; I don’t remember exactly what time I left Kentucky. I was also adventurous and broke tradition by coming home a different way than I have every time I’ve driven back since my parents moved up there. This actually is a big deal; I used to have a lot of anxiety when I drove–I don’t know why the thought of missing a turn or getting lost has always wound me tighter than a drum, but I guess it was the anxiety. But I was relaxed all the way up there, and I was relaxed all the way back, which was nice. I wasn’t even tired when I got there Tuesday night, either; I think the anxiety used to wear me out. I was tired when I got home last night, though; so I guess I did have a bit of it because I didn’t know where I was going. This time, I took the Cumberland Parkway across Kentucky to I-65 and came down through Nashville rather than Chattanooga. It was a very nice drive, and I don’t think I’ll have anxiety the next time I come that way.
It was also nice to unplug from the world. I only checked email to delete junk, and I think I answered one email–from my editor–on Tuesday while I was on the road. I have no idea what it going on in the country and the world, and I’m not really sure I want to get caught up, either. I do have some things I need to do today–our grocery situation is kind of dire–and some laundry and chores, and I don’t think I am going to attempt to do any kind of writing today–maybe in my journal. I listened to Laurie R. King’s superb O Jerusalem on the way up, and to Carl Hiaasen’s Fever Beach on the way back; which I have about an hour left to finish–it’s excellent and hilarious and thought-provoking, and there will definitely be more about both audiobooks in the newsletter, and relatively soon (I hope) at that. I didn’t listen to my Donna Andrews Christmas audiobook because I didn’t finish the Meg Langslow book I’d started last weekend. I will finish reading A Flock and a Hard Place this week, but am not sure when I’ll be able to get to the audiobook. I think I had decided to make December “Noirmas Season,” so I am going to try to get some noir read or revisited this next month, probably starting with The Postman Always Rings Twice, because it’s been a hot minute and what better way to kick off Noirmas Season than with the master? I also have some television to catch up on, too.
But the apartment is in pretty good shape, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting back on track this morning, huzzah! I have email inboxes to clean out (my email tab shows over 110 this morning; it’s not freaking me out the way it would have before, but still). I did watch the end of Alabama-Auburn last night when I got home, which was a much better game than I was expecting. I was driving and missed LSU-Oklahoma, which turned out to be a better game than I was expecting in the first place. Most of the teams I was rooting for over the “rivalry weekend” lost, which was disappointing, but they were mostly good games. I am really not interested in the post-season, but will watch LSU’s bowl game if they go to one, thus freeing up my Saturdays going forward. I am a bit better about not being glued to my easy chair every Saturday, too. The anxiety medication has apparently also removed my fear of missing out, which is really nice.
I’m really glad I went, to be honest. It was nice seeing all of my extended immediate family again–I have some really good-looking and smart grand-nieces and nephews (sigh)–and I enjoy spending time with Dad. I am learning a lot about the family history from him, and it’s nice hearing about what things were like for him and Mom when they first started dating and their early married life. And not being fatigued and worn out by driving twelve hours twice within a five day period the way I would have been before is also good to know. I’ve been feeling a lot better these last few weeks, in all honesty, and I think not being tired after work until Thursday night is a VAST improvement. I was getting kind of worried that the fatigue and lack of energy was my new normal, which was concerning but there was no point in even worrying about it because it was beyond my control. I do think I am going to start working on my physical condition a bit more going ahead, like going back to the gym and getting into better shape. What’s with the crazy talk, amirite?
And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. Hope you had a marvelous holiday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back either later today (stranger things have happened, you know) with another entry or a newsletter or maybe…nothing at all until tomorrow morning.
The Roman Emperor Hadrian’s lover, Antinoüs, depicted as the Egyptian god Osiris
Looks like Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around again, woo-hoo! Apparently another cold front is swooping down on us from the frozen north; temperatures dipping down into the forties (!!!!) this weekend. The meteorologists are also saying we’re done with temperatures in the 80s until spring–but I am not holding my breath on that one. New Orleans weather always has a habit of making forecasters look foolish because, well, it’s New Orleans weather. It snowed earlier this year, for example.1 But I am actually enjoying this respite from the heat and humidity, and I am sleeping like a stone every night since the weather changed, which is delightful. Even the time change wasn’t as disruptive as it usually is–although last night I fell asleep in my chair around eight-ish, which used to be nine-ish. But I don’t mind. I didn’t get much done when I got home from work yesterday, because I was feeling tired, and Sparky was feeling needy. I did run some errands on the way home, getting the mail and picking up prescriptions (two more will be ready for pick-up today, I think), but once I was home, I didn’t really do a lot of anything. I was on edge a bit about yesterday’s elections, but checked the news before going to bed and saw that the Reich Wing was getting trounced everywhere–so much for MAGA’s popularity–and was even more delighted to see this morning that those results held. Three seats in Mississippi’s state house flipped Democratic, too–in Mississippi. MISSISSIPPI. Think about that for a moment…and what it implies about the midterms. I’m feeling hopeful, at least for this morning at any rate.
Darth Cheney died, and there was a massive blue wave. Who could ask for anything more? If voters are this angry with MAGA now, imagine how the midterms could go. What a lovely way for November to start, am I right?
Today is going to be a busy one at work. Our nurse is out, and it’s just me in the clinic today. Undoubtedly I will be exhausted when I get home tonight, but I also decided last night to go back and finish reading The Hunting Wives (which was interrupted by Halloween Horror Month), since I was only a chapter into the Scott Carson. I will be rejiggering my reading schedule and what is up next over the next few days. I do need to get caught up a bit on my Donna Andrews, so I can listen to one of her Christmas mysteries on the way up to Kentucky later this month for Thanksgiving. I am not dreading that drive as much as I usually do, and I suppose this is the first major test of the recovery, isn’t it? Twelve hours in a car? But the key is to take my time and not get stressed about anything, and I may even try going a different way–through Nashville and up the Cumberland Parkway. Anything to avoid Chatta-fucking-nooga. I’ll drive home the old way, most likely, but it’s not a bad thing to shake things up a little bit, is it?
I did watch some more Appalachian lore videos last night, which are always fun and inspiring. I started thinking about the next Scotty last night–trying to land on a title and a time of the year, leaning towards Halloween Party Hijinks–which is also kind of fun. I have no idea what the plot of that would be, but I always have to have the title and the time of the year first. Does it make any sense? Not in the least, but I am extremely different from every other writer out there; not better nor worse, just different when it comes to writing and the writing process. I want to work some more on my novella tonight, too. So far, tomorrow looks like a very easy day in the clinic, despite again not having a nurse and working the schedule entirely on my own, which will wear me out for sure.
Oh, and People named Jonathan Bailey as the first openly gay Sexiest Man Alive. Yesterday was a very good day, wasn’t it? To be fair, he definitely is one of the sexiest men alive, and it’s not something that I ever pay that much attention to–the last one I remember was the joke selection of Blake Shelton (bitch, please) and that was nearly ten years ago–but this is landmark, and also a bitch-slap to the mouth-breathing haters. I’m actually surprised President Stillson hasn’t whined about never being picked for this…
And on that note, I should pay some bills before I head into the office.
Have a lovely mid-week Wednesday, and I will be back tomorrow morning for sure, for sure.
The snow days, and the novelty of snow, was fun…but not something I want to experience all the time. ↩︎
Ah, it’s Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It’s currently 54 degrees in the Crescent City (it was supposed to dip down into the 40s for the low; maybe it happened while I was sleeping), and it’s light outside. I also get to give myself my shot this morning by myself, but I’m not terribly concerned about that–no anxiety here!–because there are instructional videos on Youtube, for a worst case scenario. I can also tell it’s about time for it, as I’ve had some very small stomach issues (nothing major or disruptive) over the course of the weekend. The Saints apparently got pummeled again yesterday, too–I imagine there aren’t many people around who remember how hapless they used to be, so this recent turn of ineptitude is probably a big shock.
At least we managed to win a Super Bowl during that run, you know?
We watched Jurassic World: Rebirth1, primarily for Jonathan Bailey and dinosaurs, and Bailey didn’t disappoint, and some of the dinosaurs were really cool…but the plot was stupid and the movie was really poorly written, clearly relying on the dinosaurs (and Jonathan Bailey) to make the viewer forget how abysmal the film actually is. When it ended, Paul said, “I am so glad we didn’t pay to see that in the theater” and I couldn’t do anything other than agree. I mean, it’s usually not a good sign when you’re rooting for the dinosaurs, right? (Except for Jonathan Bailey…hmm, sensing a theme in this paragraph) Scarlett Johansson was pretty kick-ass as the leader of the “extraction” theme–they are being sent into the dinosaur area to retrieve blood for medical research from the biggest dinosaurs (land, sea, air) which also doesn’t make sense…since the way it was explained only said they needed it from a large dinosaur, so why not just get it all from the first big one you encounter? Because, silly viewer, there would be no movie after the sea dinosaur! Contrived, contrived, contrived…and none of this shit made the least bit of sense. I know, I know–but DINOSAURS!
Yeah, sorry, I still need a plot and story that make sense and don’t have holes big enough to drive an aircraft carrier through in my monster movies. And really, that’s all these movies are–monster movies with cash grab sequels. I think I’ve only seen two before this one: the original and one of the sequels with Chris Pratt, who I didn’t know yet was a garbage piece of shit person. He is the worst Chris. I doubt I’ll watch another of these movies, and I certainly would never pay to watch one, for sure.
Yesterday was a nice, relaxing day. It was a good weekend overall, really. We got Paul’s new phone set up, we drove out to the mall so he could get some new clothes for a gala event he has to go to this week, and then we went all the way to Kenner to get him some new over-the-ear headphones, because the best Christmas gift ever (the original ones I got him almost nine years ago) wouldn’t sync with the new phone (much like how my hearing aids don’t with my new phone), and we got him some nice new ones, that synced up immediately. We watched the movie at night and I mostly just did chores and some research yesterday on Youtube–primarily watching videos about Southern/Appalachian lores and legends to research for potential stories of my own (one synced up nicely for an unfinished young adult novel I want to get done in 2026), which is quite marvelous, really. I still haven’t made the to-do list that’s absolutely necessary for me to stay on track this week, which I need to do today. The good news is I feel alert, rested and mentally alert, which is always a good thing.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader–remember, Christmas looms on the horizon–and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, I promise.
I actually read the Michael Crichton original novel before it was filmed. ↩︎
And today is yet another remote day. It would be anyway, but the office is only open for the access program and the pharmacy, and I am not needed for either so I will work remotely again today. However, after I am finished with work-at-home duties today, I am going to venture out and see what is open and what is not–or how bad the roads are. I know people are out there driving, but they are also New Orleans drivers, and I don’t know if I want to be on slippery, icy roads with people who can’t drive in rain. I am getting a little tired of being inside–I’ve literally not been outside of the house other than to take out trash since last Saturday, and the morning of the blizzard to take some pictures of the street–and while this blizzard has been such a lovely distraction, such an unexpected joy, and period of rest that we kind of needed. It was Christmas then the New Year’s attack happened and it was the Sugar Bowl and Twelfth Night and Super Bowl preparation–and we got a chance to stop, slow down and rest and find some joy. Even I–who generally hates the cold and snow and will avoid it at all costs–got caught up in the wonder of it all. It was wild and wacky and fun and so insane–and so perfect to have happen when I am writing about the insane world Scotty lives in, too. (Yes, I also worked on the book last night, and it went well, even if I am a little rusty. More on that later.) It was also lovely being all snug and comfy and cozy and warm inside, while it was cold and snowing outside. The novelty of being snowed in at home in New Orleans for three days is so surreal and nonsensical to me, that it still hasn’t completely sunk in as a quite real thing that happened. I definitely am going to write about it; people all over social media here are trying to come up with a name for the event and there are several good ones, but the one I am pinching for my book title will be The Big Freezy. I don’t know anything other than it will be funny, it will be a crime/caper novel, and it will be set during the blizzard of 2025. God only knows when I’ll get to it, but that’s a promise, Constant Reader.
That’s the lovely thing about New Orleans; we always have these communal experiences together. Everyone here will remember the blizzard and what they did, and everyone will have stories to swap for decades here. Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest, the Saints, potholes, the stoplights just flashing during rush hour, the Crescent City Connection traffic backed up for miles–these are all things we’ve experienced and can relate to when someone else brings it up; part of the threads that connect us all as a community. And New Orleans will always embrace the joy.
That’s the roadmap we have for the next four years, so as long as the news out of Washington remains grim and authoritarian, as what few government norms we have left are erased and decimated all in the service of a petulant toddler’s whims and grievances, we have to find our own joy to cling to. I found joy in my home city and an unexpected once-in-a-lifetime blizzard (although who knows? It could be an annual event from now on, too) and in getting my cover for my new book and in spending this unexpected down time just resting and relaxing and not letting things get to me. We all have to do this, and we also need to talk about our joy, because that is another way to fight evil and hate–with our joy. Maybe this reign of terror is easier on me than it is for straight people, because I always thought the majority of straight white people were horrible monsters, so most of this isn’t surprising to me. I can see why this was a surprise to so many people, because they never pay much attention to anything until it affects them directly, no matter how many marginalized people they know. I am almost sorry for them, but can’t be completely, since their obliviousness and tunnel vision helped us get to where we are now–and don’t get me started on white women, the enemy of all that is decent and kind. (Don’t @ me with your “not all white women” bullshit. The majority of you voted for him. Clean up your own house and don’t come for me about actual fucking facts. And I will remind you yet again that New Orleans always delivers over eighty percent of its vote for the Democrat presidential candidate. I can get on my fucking high horse about this shit, and I will rub your fucking face in it if you bring that denial shit here. You didn’t vote for him, this doesn’t apply to you, snowflake.)
See how easy it is for a mood to turn foul when you go down the white supremacy road? It doesn’t take me long, ever.
But yes, joy. Find joy, everyone, in small things and try to see the wonder and beauty in our lives because it is there, and we can’t let anxiety over the world burning to the ground around us drive joy out and replace it with misery. I’m going to try to mention at least one thing every day on here that brings me joy, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. I’m not an optimistic person so I doubt very seriously that I’ll either remember every day or will even be able to think of something, but this morning, as the sun shines and all the snow is melting outside, I feel contented and happy and at peace. It’s a good feeling, too, and something I encourage all of us to work towards as we head into this brave new world.
I have to admit I’ve been watching a lot of World War II documentaries during this snow break, and while I’ve mostly watched them about the Pacific War the last few years, this past week I’ve focused my documentary viewing on Nazi Germany and the Holocaust. (Can’t imagine why…) It’s kind of eye-opening, and the way the Allies treated the Germans–forcing them to clean up the concentration camps, having to see what they ignored and pretended to ignore in all of its horror (to be fair, I’m sure they didn’t know the extent of what was happening because it’s almost impossible to even conceive of, let alone believe, that any modern Christian European nation would efficiently exterminate twelve million people, but who wants to be fair to Nazis?), and as a nation they learned. We learned nothing from our own civil war and the white supremacy baked into our system; and we missed the opportunity to stomp out racism and white supremacy after that war ended…and never corrected the revisionist history promoted by the Klan and their Klan-wives. That’s kind of why we are where we are now. If we’d simply held firm and never allowed Southerners to memorialize their treason with statues and monuments to serve as reminders of their treasons…but they were venerated instead of pissed on, which is less than such monuments deserve. Fuck the Lost Cause; it deserved to be nothing more than dust in the archives.
And yes, I worked on the book last night after I finished my work at home duties, and overall, it went pretty well despite the rust and creaky muscles. I am feeling so much better about writing, being able to write, and getting everything done that I need to get done to get caught up and back on schedule for this weekend. We may go to Costco later on–if they’re open–but I am going to wait to go make groceries and check the mail until tomorrow, when I can be relatively certain most places will be open. It’s amazing how much of the snow has disappeared over night; my stairs and the walk are clear now. I think once I finish this I may walk out and check my car and the street.
And on that note, Constant Reader, I am heading into the spice mines to get things done. Have a great Friday, and remember to take a moment and experience joy–no matter how small of a delight it may be!
Well, Christmas itself has passed and now we are in the slide to New Year’s and Twelfth Night…which means it’ll be Carnival season again soon. I don’t think I’m ready for Carnival this coming year, but is anyone, ever? I am back up before dawn to go into the office today; I don’t think we’re going to be very busy in the clinic today–I checked the schedule and we will definitely be busy on January 2–because we’re in that weird in-between-holidays time. I hope everyone’s Christmas was pleasant; mine was. I slept in yesterday and did nothing around the house other than some of the dishes. It also rained, and we drove out to Elmwood via Airline Highway, which was fun. Airline isn’t a highway I use very often (like the Earhardt), and it’s actually a great back way to Jefferson Parish and that part of the metropolitan area. I don’t know that part of town very well, so it’s always interesting to go out there. (Elmwood is out by the Huey P. Long bridge across the river.) We did see Babygirl (more on that later), and gorged on popcorn and soda. It was kind of nice just kicking back and not stressing about getting work done or cleaning the house (although I probably should stress myself out about the housework more often, or at least more regularly); I think from now on I am going to treat myself to a literal day off/holiday whenever one rolls around again. I’m also in that contemplative state that usually comes around between Christmas and New Year’s. What kind of year was it, did I have, and what do I want to accomplish in the coming year? That’s the thing about a year’s turning, you can’t help but get dragged into a contemplative reflective state whether you want to or not. I think it was a good year for me for the most part personally; it was mostly a recovery year for the horror that was 2023, to be honest. Ordinarily I would be thinking I am an utter failure for not accomplishing much of anything in a year–but I am being kinder to myself. The change in medications really kicked in this year (it began in December 2023), and there are still things I can get anxious about, but there’s not a physical reaction to anxiety and stress anymore and I really appreciate that more than anything else with the medication change; it was always the physical reaction (increased heart rate, nausea, sweating, trembling) which was the worst for me, which was why public speaking was always torture for me. (The reading the other night was a piece of cake, which was a lovely experience.)
I keep thinking today is Monday, which is more than a little annoying, honestly. My week is very screwed up. But it’s okay. I have to run errands after work tonight–grocery store and mail service–and I don’t have to come in tomorrow; I was going to cover for someone if they needed me to, but it turns out they don’t so I can work remotely.
I did not get to watch my two favorite Christmas movies this year (Auntie Mame and The Lion in Winter) because I would have had to pay to stream them; I do find it very interesting that films of a certain age aren’t streaming free anywhere. Why are old movies pay-to-play but many newer releases–even brand spanking new ones–are free to stream in numerous places? I guess I will never understand the economics of show business. We tried watching a gay horror movie last night (Ganymede, it’s terrible; we were an hour in and I wasn’t sure if the movie was pro-gay or anti-gay, and when you’re still not sure when there’s only a half an hour left? No need for us to watch that final half hour. The writing was bad, the acting overwrought, and I wasn’t really quite sure of the point of the film….so we gave up on it.
Babygirl was interesting, and made me quite uncomfortable more than a few times. Nicole Kidman is fantastic in it, but…this is one of those movies that I don’t think I can completely appreciate because I’m not a woman, if that makes any sense? Kidman plays an incredibly bright, driven and successful CEO of a major corporation…but is sexually dissatisfied in her marriage and her perfect appearing life. She literally has it all, but something is still missing in her life, and her desire to maintain her outward perfection while dealing with a weird sense of longing for something missing is portrayed quite compellingly. She feels drawn to an intern at the company, and he is drawn to her as well; that is never truly explored (what does he want?) but the movie is hers, and we see everything from her point of view. So, is she an untrustworthy narrator? We’re only seeing how she continues with her facade of perfection even in light of her torrid affair, that’s fulfilling some need in her–to be controlled, to be trained, and the sex and loss of control is exactly what she is needing, even though she is risking everything–career, marriage, family, wealth–here. Like I said, it was interesting; the story is the character study and evaluation of her life and her present. Is the ending happy? I’m not entirely sure, but in the final scene, and her delivery of the last line? That’s the character we’re never really shown, and that final scene is so brilliant that it changes the entire film from what you think you were watching.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Boxing Day, or day after Christmas if you’re not in a commonwealth of the Empire.
It’s very still and quiet this morning. Paul is asleep, Sparky has been fed and has curled up to sleep again somewhere, and I am finishing my first cup of coffee. It’s hitting the spot, too, I might add. My coffee addiction really is something, isn’t it? I had thought about getting out the Espresso machine and making myself cappuccinos this morning, but went to bed last night without thinking about anything and thus didn’t. The kitchen is also kind of a mess this morning. Maybe I’ll do something about it, maybe I won’t. It’s Christmas, after all. We had a lovely day yesterday; I spent the morning rereading some old Scotty books with the intent of rereading/editing that I have done on Hurricane Season Hustle, but after I ordered the pizza and drove out to Metairie to get it–it was fucking fantastic, too, I might add, with leftovers for today–I just kind of zoned out for the day. We watched La Palma, a truly terrible disaster mini-series, on Netflix (cheesily enjoyable in that over-the-top and rather dumb disaster move way), and then watched Kings of Tupelo, which was insane…but again, Jake, it’s Tupelo. I went to bed late and slept late, and feel good today, if weird that I have to go back to work again tomorrow. We’re driving out to Elmwood to see the afternoon show of Babygirl today, and that’s really about all I care about for today. Maybe we’ll stream some movies tonight, or start a new show to watch or something. It was also sunny and warm yesterday–today looks gray, maybe rain–and once I finish this, I will probably do some straightening up in here before repairing to my easy chair to read for a bit.
What do I want for Christmas? World peace would be nice–hell, single-payer health insurance would be terrific, too–but neither of those are possible as long as this country remains enthralled to billionaires and corporations. That’s been the case for most of my adult life, and as far back as the 1990’s I was noticing how the direction we were heading into as a country economically, both at home and abroad, was firmly setting us on the same paths that led to the French and Russian revolutions and the Great Depression. I wrote about this a lot in my journals from back then; I’d even thought about writing a novel based on those observations, but after the fall/collapse. Do I have any answers? No, not really. People will always vote against their own self-interests because they have been convinced by the mythology of the American Dream that they, too, will someday be rich if they work hard (or smart) enough. I was told repeatedly as a child that if I worked hard, I too could become wealthy. Stories of people who went from rags-to-riches proliferated in the fiction stacks (and movies, too, for that matter); almost every “epic saga” was the story of some impoverished immigrant who seized opportunities–sometimes lied, cheated and stealing–that would make them rich. We’re essentially groomed by our art and culture to aspire to wealth and that the richer you are the better of a person you clearly must be, because you accumulated wealth. The great irony of that, of course, is that Christmas (and Christianity, too, for that matter) teaches us to take care of the sick and the elderly and the poor, and to always be empathetic to those less fortunate. Christianity and Capitalism are antithetical to each other, and the influence of capitalism on Christianity has not been a good thing. The prosperity gospel is a heresy, and the worst kind of heresy because it goes against everything Jesus taught in the pages of the New Testament. Everyone celebrating Christmas today–and the “birth” of Jesus–by spending a lot of money and a lot of excess?
Hardly “the reason for the season.” Put Christ back into Christianity, for your own sakes.
I’ve always loved the messaging of Christmas above what it actually is in reality, to be honest. I can remember watching A Charlie Brown Christmas as a kid and seeing that I was looking past what Christmas was supposedly about and approaching it from a greed perspective. (It’s still my favorite Christmas story.) That was filmed in the 1960s, and was about how the season was being exploited by an orgy of spending and excess, which was never the point of the holiday. I am as sentimental about Christmas and what it stands for as a child; Christmas decorations and trees make me smile and feel warm inside. I even like most Christmas music, even if I am heartily sick of some of them (looking at you, Wham!). I love driving down St. Charles Avenue or Prytania Street at night to see all the houses decorated and lit up. I love seeing how much kids enjoy it all. I even watched a couple of Christmas-themed rom-coms this season. I tend to not write about Christmas, because it is so easy to fall into the cheesy Christmas-miracle and all’s right with the world clichéd trope so many stories of that type inevitably fall into. I did have fun with Royal Street Reveillon, which was simply set during Christmas season but that was all–and even then I found myself trying to take the story in that direction a few times.
Sigh.
And on that note, I’m going to get some more coffee and go sit in my easy chair and see what’s going on in the world while doing some reading. Have a merry Christmas today, everyone, even if you do not celebrate; at least enjoy your day off at any rate.
Who needs tomorrow? Well, it’s Christmas tomorrow, Mr. Seger, so I’d say we could all use a little Christmas this year, couldn’t we?
So it’s Christmas Eve in the Lost Apartment, and Sparky and I are the only things stirring. Paul is sound asleep, and I am going to let him sleep as long as he wants. I am going to order our pizza around twelve, I think, and I am going to go to the gym in a little bit first, methinks. I am going to take today and tomorrow off from anything other than light chores (unless I get a wild hair) and just read and relax and watch things on television and cuddle with Sparky. I can’t think of a better way to spend this holiday, can you? Sparky seems to have that same secret superpower of inducing sleep in us by simply cuddling up and going to sleep on or near either of us that Scooter had. I took two short naps this past weekend, and I blame that entirely on having Sparky sleeping on me–I never take naps! When I got home from work, he’d been cuddling with Paul off and on all day, and he spent the evening going back and forth between us. We finished The Day of the Jackal yesterday night, which was really fun
I was correct about yesterday being an easy day at the office. We were on a skeleton crew, most of the managers and supervisors were out, and thus I was able to focus and get a lot of my work done. It was marvelous. I was able to leave early, and when I got home I even figured out what short story to write for this queer anthology I’ve been invited to participate in, and I’m working on this other one for another anthology I’ve agreed to write for. I am going to take some characters from another project and write a short story about them…I think it’ll work, and then I can just plug the short story into the longer manuscript, which seems rather genius to me. I mean, why not make your work work for you? I’m a firm believer in that–even if I always worry about recycling plots. This morning I am going to clean the kitchen, drink my coffee, and read for a bit. I am intending to have a very relaxing two days off. Maybe I’ll do some work, maybe I won’t. I did finish my Substack essay on the blatant and horrific racism in the original edition of The Hardy Boys adventure The Mark on the Door, too.
The public theater of the Luigi Mangione trial–which is going to be reported on breathlessly by a media completely out of touch with their audience and will probably last throughout 2025, serving as a distraction for the people who cannot with the news from Washington anymore; Romans had their circuses to entertain the populace and keep them from rising; we have our modern media. What’s even odder to me is the disconnect between Luigi’s followers and the vastly smaller amount of law-and-order proponents (mostly in the media, for the record) castigating and moralizing about “condoning murder.” I have never been a fan of scolds or people who primly climb into their saddle atop their moral high horse and lecture everyone else about their moral failings. For the record, I do not respond to being lectured or scolded or condescended to very well–especially by people I do not know on the Internet. I don’t owe you space, I don’t owe you a platform, and you do not know me well enough to talk to me like you’re my mother. She’s dead, for one thing, and I didn’t even let her talk to me like that. You think you matter more to me than my mother? Arrogant much? Maybe have all the seats before coming at me as a fucking straight white woman of a certain age? I blocked two people on Facebook yesterday–one a priggish morally superior straight white woman who came onto my page determined to make the stupid faggot aware of her moral superiority; the other a gay man I’ve never met who did the same. I do my usual test of moral superiority with other strangers that I always do: hmm, what do I think you were doing during the HIV/AIDS crisis when gay men were dying by the thousands? And is you’re so law-and-order, that means you were probably being horrible about ACT UP and all the other in-your-face activism that needed to be done back then, some of which broke laws, which means you folded your arms and scolded rather than actually doing anything while people are dying.
Kind of like you are defending health insurance companies. You cannot be morally superior if you are defending the death panels. To me, that means you’d be a German who turned away during the holocaust and pretended it wasn’t happening, even though you lived in a village near a death camp and could smell it.
Also, slavery was legal in this country until 1865. So you would have supported that? Jim Crow was also the law, Ms. Black-and-White-Binary, and so were the eradication of the natives of this land and the Japanese internment camps in the 1940s and I could go on and on and on. Your lack of nuance is very telling.
And for the record, I never said I condoned or condemned the murder; all I’ve ever said is that I understood the mentality behind it because I have been there myself. I don’t share my own horror stories about health insurance–because all these people do is fold their arms and wrinkle their brows (think Susan Collins) and scold anyway. It’s also amazing to me that people will barge into one of your posts when they do not know you, do not know your situation, do not know your history, to smugly inform you how morally superior they are to you. With that fucking profile picture, bitch? Right before Christmas? Literally, go fuck yourself with barbed wire, skanky bitch, and take the morally superior gay man with you. It’s very easy to judge people (I’m doing it right now) without knowing the full story, but I also shouldn’t have to explain why I feel the way I do in order for other people to consider my opinions valid–that’s dehumanizing, and if you came running up to me at a conference or in a public space and started screaming at me (which is basically what you are doing, dear Ms. Morality), I wouldn’t stand for it, and I will not stand for it on-fucking-line. 1
For me, this case fascinates me, and what is even more fascinating is how this is being reported. There’s definitely been a slant to the coverage of the case, and there has been since it first happened. It was very shocking–a CEO being mowed down like a dog in the street on his way to an investors’ meeting–and very daring, very well-planned. It was, very much, intended as a political assassination; a protest against our incredibly broken health insurance industry. The fact that it was the CEO of United Healthcare immediately raised my eyebrows; they aren’t my insurer, but I work in a clinic for the under or uninsured and believe me, I have never heard a single person with United Healthcare who actually liked their insurance carrier. It’s always horror stories, and believe me, I’ve witnessed some myself. United Healthcare is garbage, it’s expensive, it has high deductibles, and they refuse coverage over 30% of the time.2Their clients have no recourse, either; none of us do when our health insurance companies deny coverage (a favorite of mine is the bait-and-switch; “we’ll cover all of this, no worries” only to find out later that “oh, no, you owe for this and this and this and this.” (That was my experience with my shoulder surgery last year.) I had a surgery that was, over all, about 95% completely covered by my insurance–but that 5% almost bankrupted me. So, miss me with your “sanctity of life” bullshit. Brian Thompson had no concerns about the sanctity of life of his clients, to the tune of billions of dollars of profit last year. I didn’t cry or feel bad when Reagan or Kissinger or Limbaugh died; I won’t feel bad when Anita Bryant or Maggie Gallagher or Donald Wildmon dies. The media also tried to paint Thompson as a “family man”–not that he was estranged from his wife and kids–and couldn’t find any on-line pictures of the family, which is kind of telling. Who doesn’t have at least one family picture on-line?
No one deserves to be murdered in cold blood, but our system is so corrupted and rotten to the core that most people feel helpless in the face of it–that’s the real story no one is reporting in this case, which is also very telling about the news media, how they report stories, and the narratives they try to shape–and feel like they need to step up for the good of everyone. (They were the ones who convicted the Menendez Brothers, after all.) Rather than think pieces and editorials about how “horrible it is that people are cheering for a murderer”–why isn’t anyone exploring or reporting or even considering why people are cheering for a murderer? Everyone was rooting for him before anyone knew what he looked like, and the fact that he turned out to be attractive? Made it a much harder sell for the media, so of course they ran with that–people only support him because he’s attractive, which again, is one-dimensional and offensive to the core. Ever since I walked away from legacy media last July, it’s so much easier to see the narratives and the spins they go for–both sides, really. MSNBC’s breathless reporting, along with their butt-buddy CNN, on the narrative from Fix and OANN and Trump that Biden was senile and dying ensured a Trump election, and I said it at the time and that’s why I walked away from it. The great irony that I agree with the right that it’s all “fake news” has not escaped me. They were right, but only half-right; they think Fox is honest, and they aren’t. The copaganda perp walk? How much money and how many resources did the NYPD waste on their “manhunt,” which accomplished nothing because he was caught by a tip called in? So, that was absolutely copaganda: see how seriously we are taking this, oligarchs? Keep approving our massive budgets which are a waste of money and time. Um, you didn’t fucking catch him, and it’s interesting that the NYPD will mobilize for a rich man’s murder and divert everything to catching the killer, while crimes go unsolved and uncared about on the daily in New York City.
We should be talking about about the health care insurance scandal in this country, and talking about how to fill loopholes and make insurers pay claims, rather than “you only support him because he’s hot.” I’m fucking sixty-three years old. Just because someone is hot doesn’t mean I either like them, support them, or want to fuck them (Zachary Levi? Mark Wahlberg? Nick Bosa?). So stop fucking condescending to me.
And don’t come on my social media scolding me. It won’t end well for you.
And on that note, I am going to get into the holiday spirit by going to my easy chair with Sparky and watching Auntie Mame, my favorite Christmas movie.
The difference between me and so many people is I am exactly who I am on line. It’s not a persona. I don’t reveal everything because I only choose to share certain aspects of my life and who I am, and I don’t have to, either. I am not braver on line than I am in person; if anything, I tolerate more bullshit on line than I ever would in person. ↩︎
How awful for me to empathize with all the people going bankrupt paying for health insurance coverage that doesn’t cover anything! How fucking dare me! That man’s life was sacred.↩︎
Queer and Loathing in America 