Tag: Costco

Keep It Together

Saturday!

His Majesty let me sleep late this morning–I did wake up at six and went back to sleep after a glance at the clock–and I feel rested and good. Yesterday was a surprisingly good day, all things considered. I got my work done, got the chores done, we went to Costco, and last night we watched the newest episodes of The Shards and Reacher. I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked; the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and the counters are a mess, too. I have to order some things for delivery this morning, and then I’ll be all set for the weekend. My current plan is to not leave the apartment except to either take out trash (there is quite a bit of it), or to cook out. Next weekend LSU has its first game and it’s Labor Day weekend and it’s Southern Decadence, but this delicate magnolia flower actually can’t really handle standing around in oppressive heat anymore. I didn’t do any reading or writing yesterday, so hope to get to some of that today while I clean up around here and get the house under control. Ambitiously, I want to finish this chapter and a short story draft I’ve been working on, but we’ll see how everything goes. I also want to get out another newsletter this weekend, so I need to decide which draft I am going to finish.

But I do feel pretty good this morning, which is a very lovely sign that the day might be a good one.

Honestly, I’ve been in a bit of a funk this week. I thought it was because of the one-two punch of Dolly Parton and Tim Curry dying, which definitely played a part in it, but it’s also the weekend of the Katrina anniversary, which has always been an subconscious downer and mood-suppressor for me. It’s why I was so low-energy this week and unfocused. (I did enjoy seeing Carrie Underwood getting dragged for the filth she is on Threads and her post about Dolly. She really thought we’d forget her bending the knee for the tangelo toddler; she thought fucking wrong. I also laughed at loud at some stupid show business “journalism” website posting that Kristen Chenowith play Dolly in a bio-pic–the nicest response I saw was “do you want people to actually watch it?”)

This has been rather an interesting week, has it not, for stupidity and bigotries? Good Good now is claiming Callaway set them up to take a hit while buying their stock back at a much lower price because it dropped dramatically in trading price because of the abuser ad, and threatening to sue the. Oh, cute little stupid white boys–welcome to unregulated capitalism, and for being so fucking stupid you trusted a bigger company as a “partner.” You were of use to them until you weren’t. (I suspected this whole thing was manufactured to drop the stock price; you were the idiotic sexist jerks who gift-wrapped it for them.) But I also think it can easily be proven that people were demanding that Callaway abandon the partnership, too. I also love how the “boys” at Good Good (they aren’t men) feel betrayed and cheated and made the patsy–well, the number one rule of the business world is never trust anyone completely; always keep an eye open because they will screw you at the first possible moment, but it all sounds like Good Good trying to cope and shift blame….typical for white people, especially white men who are used to being catered to on everything. Maybe this lesson can make up for that high school diploma and college education you passed up, Garrett Clark, because you are now toxic and so is your brand…and it was all very public.

Good luck to you getting that stain out. But I’m sure you were smart with your big income and didn’t blow it and safely saved some and made some conservative investments with a low but solid and steady return.

Yeah, right!

Milo Yiannopoulos was arrested by ICE yesterday when he flew into New Orleans for his employer’s concert here last night. Mr. “we need millions and millions deported” is now going to be deported because he turned on his original foul lord and master. This is an excellent example of leopards feasting on his face or FAFO. I hope he enjoyed his stay in whatever detention center ICE has set up here, and Louisiana doesn’t concern itself too much for the health and safety of anyone incarcerated…so either they’re using one of the local places (I’ve crossed my finger for Orleans Parish Prison myself, but I’d prefer to see him picking cotton at Angola.) No, I am not celebrating ICE; I still consider them no better than the Gestapo or the STASI. I am, however, enjoying another far-right piece of shit getting exactly what he wanted for other people. I hope he’s banned from the country. Fuck that ex-gay pedo enabler/excuser, now and forever. His mugshot was terrible, and I love the petty bitchery of Homeland Security releasing it. They’re finally detaining the worst of the worst, and the schadenfreude is as delicious as a face is to a leopard.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will see you again tomorrow morning.

I love this view of the quarter and the river from the window of the Tennessee Williams Suite at the Monteleone Hotel

Spanish Eyes

Work at home Friday! I feel most excellent this morning as I sit here at my desk inside the windows, my windows covered with condensation and it being actually very chilly inside this morning. It’s in the high seventies outside right now. I ran errands on my way home yesterday and felt pretty worn down when I got inside and fed the Sparkster. Sparky wanted to sleep in my lap, so I gave in and provided him with a lap while I saw in my easy chair and did my usual catch up on the news thing while my min mostly wandered. I didn’t do any of the chores I wanted to get done last night, and this morning I do regret pushing that off until this morning. I have my biweekly team meeting at ten, and lots of paperwork to get caught up on today so I’ll be off-line for a good portion of the day, and we’re going to Costco this afternoon when Paul gets home from work. Today is the big laundry day, as it ever is, and between that and Costco–I may get some reading done; we’ll see. I may rewatch a Dolly Parton movie while doing my paperwork; I’ve been meaning to revisit The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas; why not this weekend?

What a week this was! I’m still a little frazzled from the one-two punch of Dolly and Tim Curry’s deaths–and the whole Callaway Golf/Good Good controversy (among others that broke this week, too) was completely insane. What was even more insane was watching the same men who got pissed that women will always choose the bear over a man, gaslighting women that the ad we all saw with our very own eyes, wasn’t “bad” or “just a joke.” (Hilarious how these asshole men kept doing this despite the apologies from both companies, the ad being pulled, and admitting they made a huge misogynistic error–but the “undescended testicles” brigade are still at this morning. Shock. The way some men will always circle the wagons to protect other men is why women choose the bear.) SO, I did do a bit of a deep dive on Garrett Clark, who issued the nine-minute non-apology yesterday. DId you know he was homeschooled, went to a private “Christian” school aka a segregation academy aka a Christian Nationalist school. Is it any wonder he thought shoving a woman to the ground and then getting in her face threatening her was funny? Apparently, his father told him to drop out of school because he was making so much as a content creator (it’s not like he was getting an education anyway), and you know, he was clearly raised and groomed to be a piece of shit pig man.

I also don’t think he learned anything from this, either–he’s just sorry his business is going down the toilet. Sporting goods stores and Costco pulled the merchandise, their reality show was canceled unaired, and both Callaway and the PGA severed ties with Clark’s stupid-stupid company. I guess he can put that excellent education to use now.

But in all honesty, the golf bro community will give him a chance to redeem himself–watch and see! There will be all these interviews about how hard it was to go through this, but he wasn’t that person and had to prove that to everyone (not anything about the lessons learned, if any are actually learned) to redeem himself, patting himself on the back all the time for how wonderful he is. And then he’ll say, with a very well rehearsed look on his face and a tear in his eyes, about how he is actually glad he fucked up, because learning made him a better person. The golf bros will all burst into tears and welcome him back with open arms and shoot loads in their pants while bashing “overly sensitive” women.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

But…women hold grudges, a quality I have always appreciated and try to emulate as much as possible. The North remembers, so does Pepperidge Farm, and so do women…and so do I.

Sigh.

But I am hoping for a lovely, peaceful weekend. Obviously, I have no control over the news or what’s going to potentially happen in the world, but hope springs eternal. I want to finish reading that book, get some writing work done (as always) and I need to send out another newsletter this weekend. The house is a mess, and today is, as I have already mentioned, a big laundry day, too. LSU’s football season begins a week from tomorrow, and I am starting to get a bit excited. I do love me some college football, after all, even when LSU isn’t doing well. Expectations are very high for a quick turnaround this season, but I am cautious and temper my hopes and prefer to wait and see how everything plays out. Last year, after LSU won the opener at Clemson, they were ranked in the Top 5, which was utter bullshit–as the rest of the season showed. (Polls–whether they are political or sports-related, are generally bullshit, which anyone who’s paid attention in the last ten years plus could tell you…which is why I am hopeful for the midterms, but not going to be surprised if it doesn’t go well. I’ve ceased giving my fellow citizens the benefit of the doubt anymore, and tend to expect either the worst, or the barest minimum, from them these days. Sigh.

And on that note, I am going to go get started on my chores before my meeting, and get going on the day job work, too. Have a lovely Friday, and I will be back tomorrow morning. Until then, ta-ta!

A nice looking young man, but why do so many underwear/swimsuit models all use the same size prosthetic bulge?

Deeper and Deeper

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel terrific this morning. Sparky let me sleep late again, and the bed was very warm and comfortable. I ran an errand and made groceries–hardly anything for nearly a hundred dollars–and then settled into my chair. I read some more of the book I’m reading, which is haunting and interesting but not terribly engaging, worked on some newsletters, worked on the book for a little while, and even started writing a short story, inspired by, of all things, an actual Real Housewife. I also did some chores, so overall it was a good, if lazy, day. Today I need to have some things delivered, and we may make a Costco run. I have some writing to do and definitely have some chores that need doing that I’ve kept putting off since I’ve been home this long birthday weekend.

While I was reading Youtube was on autoplay, and a documentary about the movie version of Valley of the Dolls–one of my favorite camp classics of all time (“I’M NEELY O’HARA!!!”) and eminently quotable–which got me to thinking about Valley of the Dolls, which remains one of my favorite novels of all time, and when they mentioned the casting of Barbara Parkins–who was hot at the time from the television version of Peyton Place, which also put me in mind of Peyton Place (also one of my favorite books) and how interesting it was that I always thought of the two books (and their films) as connected. Both were hugely successful, both were dismissed as “dirty sex books” and “trash” , and both made their authors celebrities–and both books appealed greatly to women (and of course gay men), as did the films. I have long thought about writing about those great trashy novels of my youth; big trashy novels by Sidney Sheldon and Shirley Conran and Harold Robbins and Jackie Collins (oh! Hollywood Wives!) and Judith Krantz; I used to love long books–especially ones with revenge as the driving plot element (sighs, remembering The Other Side of Midnight)–and these were especially fun. I still remember many of them fondly, and it would also make for another interesting essay series about how these books actually influenced and impacted me as a reader and as a writer wannabe, and how they didn’t deserve the drubbing dismissal of the literary academy. So, I got down my copies of Peyton Place and Valley of the Dolls and looked through them, opening up to various places in the books and just reading.

Today I need to do some things I meant to do yesterday but never got around to doing–I need to reread and outline the first four chapters of the book, so I can remember character and place names, continuity, and tie up any loose ends I may have pulled out but left dangling.

I think we’re probably in another heat advisory today, and there’s no telling how hot it’s actually going to get out there. It wasn’t terrible when I ran my errands yesterday–or I’m getting used to the horror, one or the other–but it’s pretty bright and sunny out there this morning. This the best I’ve felt in the morning since my mini-vacation started, which is nice. I also think I am due to get a new pair of shoes, because my hip joints are getting achy again and that’s usually a sign. At least it’s just the hips, you know? I also need to order some things to be delivered, too–which I will try to get taken care of this morning so we’re free to leave for Costco at any time, if we so choose to go there today. We do kind of need to go–but in a worst case scenario I can also have that delivered as well.

And on that note, I am going to get going so I can organize and plan my day once I get these duties taken care of. Have a great day, wherever you are and whatever you do, Constant Reader, and I shall return in the morning tomorrow. Until then, hang loose.

The fountain at Audubon Park on a misty morning, by photographer David Freeman.

Love Song

Saturday morning and I have really lost the plot on what day it is. I kept thinking it was Saturday all day yesterday, which was annoying. And as much as I was wanting to have another day off yesterday (planning on working more today and tomorrow), I actually started writing my next chapter of the WIP, and even worked some on my newsletter drafts, which is becoming more and more fun the more I do of them. Obviously, we didn’t go see the movie because I was writing and had gotten settled into that “in my sweats and I’m in my chair working on my laptop” mode, and so I thought it was better to go ahead and do what work I could while doing my chores. I wound up writing about 1500 words on the new chapter, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Whether they are any good or not is another story, but I am taking the win. I also stayed up later than usual, doing the laundry, and Sparky tried to get me up early again but settled in for cuddles when I didn’t get up.

I watched some more documentaries about the Pacific War again yesterday, which is technically research for the book–since my main character served in the South Pacific during the war. It also occurred to me yesterday that I should watch South Pacific again–I watched it when I was a kid, and never revisited, but thought it might be interesting from a sociological and research point of view; how did they depict sailors with no access to women? It’s been so long I don’t remember much of the movie, or the book either for that matter (Tales of the South Pacific was my entry point for James A. Michener’s work) so one of these weekend mornings when I don’t have much else to do along the lines of reading or chores I could put it on. I liked musicals a lot when I was a kid–I remember seeing The Sound of Music and Camelot on the big screen–but kind of got away from them as a teenager and the post-teen years…the fact that not many were made might have had a lot to do with it. Anyway, it couldn’t hurt, right? And if I can consider something as a kind of sideways research, it doesn’t feel like I’m just wasting my time…see, what you saw right there is an anxiety coping mechanism: I’d feel guilty and anxious for not being productive, so I needed a rationale for it that made sense to my brain.

And while we didn’t go see the movie yesterday after all–and probably won’t this weekend either–we are going to Costco tomorrow.

I watched more of The Burbs yesterday, and when Paul came down from his work-at-home duties, we caught up on both The Shards and Reacher. This most recent episode of The Shards was probably one of the best ones so far, but it’s still Ryan Murphy so there’s kind of a glitzy veneer over it all and character motivations don’t seem to be important (they never are to Murphy)…and almost all of the characters are unlikable, because I at least never feel any sympathy for any of them–and kind of enjoy their failures…I am not sure that’s the primary intent here, but that’s my reaction to it. It’s addicting, though, like so many things are that are nothing more than empty calories, like cotton candy or soda.

I was actually kind of glad we didn’t go to the movie yesterday because around the time we would have left, some amazing thunderstorms rolled into the metro area. The band of bad weather lasted for about six or seven hours, too–with street flooding uptown and there was also HAIL uptown, big chunks of ice hurtling down from the sky. We didn’t have any here at the Lost Apartment, thank the Lord, and it sure would have sucked to bring Costco home during a thunderstorm. Yikes.

Some rather interesting news broke yesterday regarding the Karmelo Anthony case, and a better picture of what happened that day is starting to emerge. When I first heard the news, my first thought was “self-defense” and my second was “they are going to roast and railroad this kid” and I was right about that, too. (Just like when Nolan Wells went missing and my reaction was “he’s dead and those white kids did something, they may not have killed him but they certainly didn’t act like innocent people who didn’t know anything” and as more facts come out…)

Because inevitably it will always turn out to be some kind of bullshit white shenanigans. And that kid Karmelo Anthony killed sounds to me like he was already well on his way to becoming a full-fledged sociopath. We need to stop treating white kids with kid gloves. Hell, we need to stop centering white people, period.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning, okay? Til then!

I’ve never understood the “must shave body and be smooth at all times” mentality. Body hair can be sexy, too—and very masculine.

Till Death Do Us Part

Friday and my days are all fucked up! I kept thinking it was Friday all day yesterday, and even this morning feels like it should be Saturday. Sparky flatly refused to let me sleep late this morning, and was having none of my demurrals. I did sleep well last night, so there is that, and I feel pretty good this morning. I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday. I ran an errand, did a chore or two, but mostly just sat in my chair with Sparky in my lap watching documentaries about World War II battles in the Pacific, which have never felt got the proper attention, even during the war; our basic history classes focused mostly on Hitler and the Nazis and the war in Europe. (I’ve always thought an espionage novel set in Egypt during the second World War would be fun and interesting–Africa also gets short shrift in basic histories.) We got pizza from That’s Amore for dinner last night, and watched a new episode of The Shards, which is interesting but very strange. We also watched an episode of Reacher, and yes, the scene where they have to explain onlyfans to him was absolutely hilarious. Alan Ritchson is just so perfect as Reacher it’s almost scary.

And every time I watch an episode I think, when and if this show ends he could lost some bulk and play Travis McGee. I do think those books might be too sexist and dated to be adapted now, but you never know. I do remember them fondly.

SO my birthday was lovely. I got tons of messages and wishes all over social media, and didn’t try to keep up with them all after a certain point. I’ll take some time today to go through everything and say thanks to everyone. But I was aware of all of them, so give me some time to get caught up. Thanks for making a bitter old queen feel so beloved! We are going to see Spider-Man this afternoon in Harahan, and we’re stopping at Costco on the way back home. (I need to make a list.) Today is mostly going to be about seeing the movie and Costco, so most of the rest of the day will be for chores and reading. OH! I also sent out a newsletter yesterday; you can read it by clicking here. So, I did do some things yesterday, but for the most part I took it easy, as I will today, too.

The Penn State cocaine ring has been interesting while sort of amusing at the same time. When I first saw the headline, I thought my money’s on Delta Upsilon and Sigma Chi–with Kappa Sigma and Deke coming in as strong possibilities. So, when I turned out to be right about which fraternities it was, it amused me. It also answered a question I’d been pondering for awhile: are the current Greek systems still mired in cocaine use like they were in the 1980s? I wrote a noir story about college sorority girls in “This Town,” which explored hedonism and fallout from partying at fraternity houses, wrapped up in a lovely Mardi Gras/Fat Tuesday package. I’d been wanting to write a novella about Chanse investigating his old fraternity at LSU for a suspicious death; the cocaine ring would be a nice addition to that story (it’s called “Once a Tiger”)…which means following the story (as I’ve been following the suspicious deaths stories of Noah Presgrove and Nolan Wells) and taking notes.

And on that note, I’m going to head into the spice mines and get some of these chores handled. Have a lovely Friday, everyone, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

The Sipsey River as it winds through the Bankhead Forest in Alabama.

Express Yourself

Wednesday, Wednesday, my last day of work this week! And yes, it’s my Birthday Eve. The last day of being sixty-four. Am I having heavy thoughts about being old and officially a senior citizen? Fuck no. I’m happy I made it this far–the odds were not in my favor. I turned twenty-one the year the New York Slimes first reported the appearance of a strange illness that only seemed to affect gay men (later, Haitians and injection drug users were added to the list), and when I came all the way out eight years later, I just figured I was going to eventually get infected and die. It never happened–I really have lived a charmed life–and there were any other number of close calls with death throughout my life; so many, in fact, that sometimes I forget them all.

That’s a rather somber start, isn’t it?

I slept very well last night, which was marvelous, even if I didn’t want to get up and feel a bit groggy this morning. Yesterday was a nice day at work–not terribly busy and thus was able to keep up on things. I was able to come straight home from work–tonight I have to go pick up the mail and do a very minor grocery run–and spent some nice time with Sparky sleeping in my lap. Paul went out to dinner with a friend, so I was home alone with the kitty for most of the evening. I watched another episode of The Burbs, which I am loving, and did some chores before going to bed relatively early.

College football is a mere couple of weeks away now; LSU opens with Clemson in Baton Rouge over Labor Day weekend, and my Saturdays will officially become dedicated to college football again. Thge preseason polls are out; LSU is ranked 11th in one and 13th in the other. Coming off a tragic 7-6 season that finished off Brian Kelly1‘s time in Baton Rouge (I don’t mind the season since it rid of us of him), that’s kind of surprising. I know everyone is expecting magic this first season with Lane Kiffin as coach, but we should really temper our excitement some. The schedule is brutal, and includes games at two places that want Coach Kiffin burned in effigy if not reality; Tennessee and Mississippi. These polls are not quite as bad as last year, though, which had LSU in the top five after beating Clemson in the opener, which was insane. No one knew whether either team was any good at the time, and Clemson has definitely not been on brand for quite some time now. Polls mean nothing, in football as in politics, and all that matters is what happens on the field on Saturdays. Obviously, I’d love to see LSU make a run for the natty, but it’s also not the end of the world if we’re not there yet.

Is it wrong to be looking forward to the long weekend so much? I don’t know that I’ll do a whole lot on my birthday tomorrow; I usually take the day off from anything approximating actual work–I’ll do chores and read for a bit, of course–but for the most part, I plan on being bored as fuck tomorrow. I think we’re going to Costco this weekend, and we’re planning on seeing Spider-Man. Not a lot of plans for a four day weekend, right? I do think tomorrow I will stay off-line most of the day. I have a newsletter to get out and a blog entry to write, and once that’s taken care of, I am walking away from the computer. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I’ll see you here again tomorrow morning. See you then!

The Sipsey River bottoms on my uncle’s farm. The river was high that spring.
  1. Hey, I was at least willing to give him a chance. He wound up ending worse than he started. ↩︎

Like a Prayer

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I am up early. I actually was awake and out of bed before Sparky came looking for breakfast. I feel great this morning, which is awesome. I don’t know how the day is going to play out, but let’s see how it all develops, shall we? Yesterday was lovely. I had some groceries delivered and spent most of the day cleaning and organizing and yes, thinking. Sparky wanted to sleep in my lap while Paul was off doing things, so I did that for about an hour or so, or at least until he decided taking up the entire couch was more suited to his nap needs. I did finally send out that newsletter I’d been working on forever; if you’d like to read my measured response to that horror of an op-ed in the New York Times, you can click right here, if you’d like. No pressure!

The Saints lost their preseason game (we didn’t watch; the games don’t matter so I don’t really get into games that are basically practice skirmishes), but these games don’t matter. I had the LSU-Florida game from 2007 on Youtube while I was doing things–prepping for the season–and then Paul came home. I grilled burgers for dinner, and we watched another episode of Furious, which is incredibly well written and acted; Emmy Rossum is fantastic (and always underrated) and it’s walking an interesting line about abuse that I won’t spoil by talking about. Is anyone else watching?

In other sad news, beloved longtime LSU baseball coach Skip Bertman died; Coach Bertman won five College World Series at LSU and built the baseball juggernaut that is the LSU program. I wouldn’t be such a fan of the baseball team were it not for Coach Bertman, and I remember so many great games and finishes while he was guiding the ship. My heart goes out to his friends and family, and I imagine he’s getting a statue on campus at some point. He also kept going to the games after retiring, too–they’d always show him in the stands during the games. It’s going to be weird not having him there anymore.

My birthday looms this week, too; I have taken Thursday and Friday off for a nice long weekend for it. I don’t remember turning sixty, probably because we were still in the throes of the pandemic, and I was buried in work and responsibilities and didn’t notice or make much of it. It’s astonishing to me that I made it this far, frankly; it’s not like the cards weren’t stacked against me. I’m also not one of those “how did the time go by so fast” people, either. It did not go by fast. High school seems like it was in another era completely–and it was very definitely in a different century, wasn’t it? I also like saying things like “well, you know I was born sixteen years after the war ended” or “Kennedy was president when I was born, and I remember Johnson being president, and when Eisenhower died” and seeing the looks on people’s faces. (You also have to remember that I’m at minimum twenty years older at least than everyone at work, besides one person.) Yikes, indeed. I am going to write a newsletter for my birthday–I’m already working on it–that will reflect on me making it to sixty-five somehow (stubbornness, most likely) and so on. We’re going to get a pizza from That’s Amore in Metairie, and we’re going to see the Spider-Man movie, and potentially a Costco run. That sounds good, doesn’t it?

Today I am going to read, and there’s a very short essay I have to get written today as well. I am making Swedish meatballs for dinner tonight (with egg noodles), and hope to get to the floors today, too.

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

Underground wrestler Cason of Thunders Arena. He looks like a lot of fun, doesn’t he?

I Know It

And here we are again on another midweek Wednesday. The weekend is nigh!

Yesterday was a rather nice day. I didn’t want to get up in the morning, of course–the bed was comfortable and Sparky was curled up with me, not turning into the HUNGRY MONSTER for a little while. But I got up, made my lunch for the rest of the week, and had a pretty nice morning before I left for the office. Work was mellow, I was able to get some paperwork and other things done around my appointments. Paul was doing some things in the Quarter, so he got a Lyft to my office and we went to Costco to pick up his glasses, which was relatively easy, given the nearness of the I-10 West on ramp by my office. Tonight I am having dinner with one of my favorite people in the world, and tomorrow I am going to have to run errands on the way home. I don’t think there’s a single night this week I went straight home from work? That’s not the norm, believe you me. I don’t think there’s a single night this week I went straight home from work? That’s not the norm, believe you me. But…I can also remember being so tired when I’d get off work that I couldn’t face stopping for gas on my way home. I wasn’t worn out, crabby or exhausted when I finally got home last night, and wasn’t horribly overheated, either. Having Paul in the car also makes it a better experience always, and we don’t get to ride in the car together that often anymore. I do rather miss the olden days when we worked about the same schedule and I would pick him up on the way home from the Marigny. I miss working in the Marigny, honestly, but I sure don’t miss coming home through the French Quarter, which apparently is a massive driving hazard because of all the Sewage and Water Board construction down there., and had a pretty nice morning before I left for the office.

I did have trouble sleeping last night, which is weird and hasn’t happened in a long time (unless I’m in a hotel somewhere), but I do feel okay this morning; Ill probably be tired this afternoon, but that’s okay. We’re not terribly busy today, either, which will be kind of nice–it won’t wear me out, and I do have things to do, but clients are what make the day go by faster, not paperwork or stocking or filing or quality assurance, which hardly makes the day fly by, ha ha. But it’s work that does need to be done, and yes some of it I put off as long as I can, and always swear at myself when I have to play catch up.

And now I think I may be over-caffeinated, which is definitely possible. I am trying not to eat as much today as I am having dinner tonight (and I usually am not hungry for dinner), so it’s a pattern change (and we all know how my body loves changes in routine); I’ll survive, of course. Just felt like whining for some reason.

So apparently Perez Hilton had a psychotic break on-line last night? Honestly, I’m kind of ambivalent about him. I don’t like not feeling sympathy for people in these situations–I am no stranger to brain chemistry issues–but he’s really a bottom-feeder with serious self-esteem issues. When I first became aware of the entity known as Perez Hilton, I was, predictably, horrified. I guess he felt we needed a crueler, more vicious on-line National Enquirer? We didn’t, but I never clicked on anything, read anything, or visited anything that would lead me to any site hosting him. I thought about killing him off in a book, so I could try to figure out who he is and what made him turn out the way he did. I know this is mean to say, but I kind of got the impression he was lonely and bitter, didn’t have many real friends, and that he’s always been that way. I’m sure he was bullied and picked on for being gay, like so many of us were, and that is something I can empathize with…but the vast majority of us also didn’t become hateful, vicious tabloid celebrity on-line gossip queens; Britney Spears alone was bad enough, but it wasn’t just her, either. It was literally anyone–and the younger and more successful the better. Why would you bully people when you’ve been bullied yourself? There’s something broken in him, which is sad, and for me, I can’t imagine waking up every morning and seeing myself in the mirror and thinking, who am I going to try to destroy today for clicks and money?

I read a lengthy interview with him a very long time ago, that I thought was interesting. He had lost weight (I’d never really known he was heavy; as I said, I avoided him as much as possible) and he really came across as desperate and sad; like he’s always blamed his loneliness on not being in “gay shape.” It doesn’t matter how pretty the packaging is, son, when the inside is soulless and empty. Maybe the problem isn’t external?1 The irony is sometime in the late aughts or early teens I found out what his real name was…and it sounded familiar. Sure enough, I plugged his name into my email browser and found a chain of emails from some year–I don’t remember which–but he used to apparently work for a gay glossy (I want to say Genre, but could be wrong) that I wrote fitness columns for (until they stopped paying me) and he, of all people, was my contact. As I looked through the emails, they were longer than correspondence between a contracted writer and an associate editor–mainly because he was so down on himself about how no one looked at him, and so forth, with me replying to him as though he were a training client of mine. We stopped when they stopped paying me–they still owe me for the last two columns I wrote for them–and I forgot all about him. I had no idea he became Perez Hilton.

And on that note, I’ll head into the spice mines. Have a lovely midweek, Constant Reader, and I will check back in again tomorrow.

Memorial for Sam Wilson, located in Lawnswood Cemetery, Leeds, UK. Sculpted by Edward Caldwell Spruce, it features bronze figures representing Faith, Hope, and Benevolence. The centerpiece is a winged figure holding a torch, with detailed scenes including a skull at its base
  1. I always default to “oh, it’s me.” I never cease to be amazed at how many people are incapable of taking honest looks at themselves…and yes, I know I can be delusional. “I’m perfect so it can’t be me” is a thought that has never run through my brain; I’m wired differently, I guess. ↩︎

Holiday

Here it is Tuesday morning, and yesterday wasn’t terrible, frankly; it definitely could have been worse. I felt a little spacy in the morning, and got a little bit tired in the afternoon, but nothing terrible. The day at work was productive and quiet. I slept well Sunday night, and was reluctant to get up yesterday morning. But neither Sparky nor my alarm would be denied, so I tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of ambition. LOL, as if. More like fumbled down the stairs and turned on the Keurig to make a cup of coffee while Sparky spoke vehemently to me because I wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking–nothing new, when he wants something he wants it NOW. I slept well last night, and yet again didn’t want to get up again this morning, but I survived and got up. I ran a lot of errands on the way home last night–mail, pharmacy, made groceries–and was worn out, hot, and crabby by the time I got home. I did do the dishes and ran the dishwasher overnight, too. I’m trying to keep up better this week, so this weekend I’m not facing another mess–since I have car stuff to deal with this weekend, which means getting up early both Friday and Saturday. Yay! But at least next weekend is my birthday (already) and a lovely four day weekend, with Labor Day weekend not that far behind, either.

We watched House of the Dragon last night, with only one more episode left to go in this season as the show rushes to its final denouement. I”m enjoying the show a lot more, especially since I am realizing almost everyone in the cast will be dead by the series finale–and since so many of them are so completely unlikable, that will be fun. At this point, no one deserves to sit on the Iron Throne, frankly. This, to me, is more like the Wars of the Roses, which was theoretically the basis for Game of Thrones; when that conflict ended there were hardly any Plantagenets left alive as the family pruned the branches of its family tree. (I read in a history once that “the primary English crisis of the fifteenth century was Plantagenet fertility, while the sixteenth’s was , ironically, Tudor sterility.”) The entire thing is Viserys’ fault for not making Daemon his heir when he had no sons; no one would have argued with him then picking his own son over Daemon, as inheritance was to be expected to pass that way, in male primogeniture. Ah, folly in reality makes for great drama in fantasy.

I’m surprised dystopian fiction isn’t rising in popularity, actually.

I did work on the book a bit last night, which was absolutely lovely. Chapter Four is drawing closer and closer to its (first draft) finish, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Given all the life irritations and aggravations I’ve been dealing with lately, I am pleased to be back in the writing saddle again. I do enjoy creating, and even when it’s a struggle (which it is sometimes), there’s always a sense of, I don’t know, rightness whenever I’ve finished writing for the day. I was, to be honest, more than a little concerned that getting my anxiety disorder under control might take the drive to write away from me, and I have fallen off the old production schedule that I used to have, but it’s nice to rediscover my joy and to know the medication taking the edge off isn’t affecting my writing, now that I am in a place where I am writing again. I also have noticed the insecurity/Imposter Syndrome has also dried up almost completely (it still rears its ugly head every now and then), which is absolutely a godsend.

Alas, I’ve not cracked any of the three books I am currently reading since the weekend. Paul is coming by the office at the end of the workday so I can take him to get his new glasses at Costco. We’ll be heading against traffic–it’s a very easy drive to Costco from my office, thanks to I-10–so it won’t be too terrible. I am also choosing to see this weekend’s car stuff as a positive. I’ll have a/c again when it’s all over and done with, and I can read while I am waiting for the car when I’m at the dealership (not waiting at the body shop for it), and I will already be on the West Bank, so maybe I can run by Sam’s while I’m there and stop at Sonic for lunch. I can also get a lot done while I’m home waiting for the body shop to finish working on the car. So, over all, a positive, and I can sleep in on Sunday morning if need be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and may you have plenty of tacos! See you tomorrow morning!

Are we really supposed to believe he has a beard and NO body hair? LOL.

My Sins Are My Savior

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well thus far. I am having a very nice weekend, and I do hope you are having one as well, Constant Reader. I’m hoping for another good day today. I’m not sure what Paul’s plans are for the day, but mine will include finding something new to watch, since we finished Cross yesterday. I am tempted, of course, to start The Vampire Lestat but I’d rather wait to watch it until it’s all finished airing. (I’ve always been a bit of an Anne Rice fan-boy, and her connection to New Orleans was one of the things that originally made me think about living here, after reading The Witching Hour, which I should also revisit sometime.) I quite enjoyed Interview with the Vampire, and I might need to revisit those two seasons as well. I just saw yesterday there will be s fourth season, aptly titled The Queen of the Damned, so maybe the entire series will be filmed for television, which would be kind of cool; I did enjoy some of the later books, too. I also like this cast a lot. Anyway, how could I have forgotten Ride or Die? Clearly that would be the best option for our next watch. Octavia Butler and Hannah Wasddingham? Sign me the fuck up.There’s also another film streaming now that I want to see.

I had some groceries delivered, and made baked potatoes for dinner–so delicious with Kerrygold butter, cheddar cheese, fresh ground black pepper, and Maldon salt, with bacon bits and some chives. We’re both trying to eat not only healthier food but smaller portions as well to take off some weight. I bought a new pair of jeans at Costco on Friday (yes, that’s me, the gay fashion plate), and I’d like to get back down to two hundred pounds again, which I think is do-able. Paul worked out with his trainer and then went to the gym to ride the bike for a few hours. Sparky was cuddly and wanted my lap, and I really wanted to finish reading my book…so I put on the 2022 Alabama-LSU game on Youtube while I read and did some things. I finished the laundry and put away the dishes, ordered some groceries to be delivered, and had a very good day overall, despite the late start. When that game finished I put on 2019 LSU-Florida (which we were actually in the stadium for; it was one of my favorite games I’ve attended–the weather was perfect, the game was lit, and the crowd was on fire).

I actually came up with a working title for the new Scotty as well as the opening to the prologue, and the opening of Chapter One as well–and since I also have the disparate threads of plots decided upon, just not how to really tie them all together as of yet; I thought that was some excellent work on a day where I felt like I was being lazy, to be honest. I’ve been writing in my easy chair on the MacBook Air, and I’m getting more and more used to writing on it, so I have less excuses for not writing, which is a good thing.

I also wrote and sent out a new newsletter, which you can read by clicking here! This time out I talk about Lev AC Rosen’s Rough Pages, which I finished yesterday and absolutely loved. I think I am going to reread Larry Kramer’s Faggots next, along with getting back to my reread of The Ivy Tree and I think my next new read will be either Wanda Morris’ latest, or maybe something neither gay nor crime, but will pick out a few today to choose from; I do have so many marvelous books I have yet to read. I ordered copies of Emily Wilson’s translations of The Odyssey and The Iliad, and may get around to the Aeneid, too; it’s been a long ass time and my perspective has shiufted since then. There’s also Celebrity, which a friend reminded me of lately, and I had been thinking about writing about because one of the three main characters is a deeply closted gay man who is also a major movie star–and what I remember about how his sexuality was depicted is, well, pitiful. the life he was living wasn’t enviable, and was actually horrifically sad. I’d like to reread it, not only to reexamine Mack’s depiction but how the book was structured, which I have always felt was intricately built so would like to deconstruct it some.

We also watched Masters of the Universe last night. Nicholas Galitzine looks pretty (despite the lack of fur bikini) and Dolph Lundgren (whio played him in the last live action movie) had a cameo close to the beginning. Despite being visually beautiful and cinematic, as well as clever and funny at times, but the story’s not great; it’s a cartoon story that doesn’t really translate well into a live action big budget film. Masters of the Universe was always an infomercial for toys rather than an actual show, and not much creative thought went into it–He-Man? Skeletor? Evilynn? Sorceress? I remember the Saturday morning cartoon was popular while I worked at Toys R Us. I fucking hated working that aisle, and how stupid I thought the kids who were into it had to be to not recognize how basic and simple everything was. They need so little creativity for their entertainments? I saw the original film in the theater, with Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella, with a very young Courtney Cox (fresh off that Bruce Springsteen video) and her love interest was the guy who’d played Charlie Brent on All My Children (with Lauren Holly as his love interest, no less–Pine Valley had some very good young talent pass through for teen drama storylines). The movie was fun, but Dolph’s cloak concealed his fur bikini too much for my taste. It was fun and silly and not anything I ever needed to watch again…and I feel the same way about this version. Just empty calories, but there’s nothing wrong with that either. There’s also a strong 1980 Flash Gordon aesthetic I appreciate to the movie–there was even a point where Paul started singing “FLASH! Ah ah, savior of the universe!” and I had been literally thinking the same thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will do the same here in New Orleans. See you tomorrow morning!

The ruins of Fort Livingston on Grand Terre Island; another evocative writing-prompt image!