Work-at-home Friday! Huzzah! I was a bit on the tired side yesterday, which was to be expected. I had to go to work in person every day last week, and I always am a little tired come Thursdays. It was surprisingly pleasant outside when I went to work yesterday morning–in the low eighties–and everything was glistening and wet from the previous night’s rains. The city was also low-key and kind of mellow, too. It was a slow day at the office, and I decided not to head uptown after work to run my few errands, I was a bit tired and I forgot my list, too. I want to get a lot of cleaning and organizing done this weekend, and I also have a lot of quality assurance to get caught up on today. We’re going to go to Costco later , which is also going to be incredibly expensive, especially since it’s been so long since we’ve gone. Over a month, I’d say–or at least since Paul’s surgery, and that was definitely a while back. (I have ordered some things to be delivered from them–not much of anything, really–but supplies are low.) But…the tired wasn’t too bad, I did some chores when I got home, we watched an episode of Cross, and I caught up on the news, which was either not horribly depressing or I’m becoming deadened and desensitized; I’m not sure which. And I came down to a picked-up apartment, and a clean kitchen, so am already off to a good start this morning. The first load of blankets are in the washer, and I need to unload the dishwasher.
I also have chores to do today around the work and the errands, and I would also like to get some writing time in, too. It will, of course, entirely depend on how long everything takes and how tired I het doing everything. It was cool when I left the office yesterday–for this time of year, mind you–and there was a lovely breeze. The car was an oven, though. I did sleep in a bit this morning before Sparky became insistent on being fed. I feel pretty good so far this morning and my coffee is excellent, so no complaints here.
I am missing the World Cup, honestly; what a delightful few weeks that was. I’m very glad that Spain beat Argentina; what a pathetic group of sore losers and dirty players. That great player of theirs (I won’t mention his poor sport ass name) is also a piece of shit, apparently; decades of being ‘the greatest’ etc, only to throw it all away as a poor sport. Always remember the Nazi to Argentina pipeline, and I will always wonder why they made a musical glorifying that fascist grifter Eva Peron. I’ve never gotten a good answer to the question. Some gays don’t like having their theater standards questioned, but why not do one on Imelda Marcos? She actually fancied herself a singer, at least. I am missing the world cup, though. There’s any number of monstrous fascist women in history; did Eva stand out because she started out as a prostitute and actress?
Oh, well, college football will be here before we know it, and then my weekends will be built around college football and the Saints–errands on Fridays and Sundays only, etc. I’m cautiously optimistic about both LSU and the Saints this year, but LSU’s schedule is brutal. Auburn, Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, Texas A&M, Florida and Tennessee, and the opener is Clemson. That’s eight games they could lose, right there. Oh, well. Fingers crossed! Hope always springs eternal down here on the bayou.
I am also hoping that having a “normal” weekend will set me back to normality. I feel good and rested already this morning, which is delightful, and of course my coffee is starting to hit me with its best shot…I should get out the espresso machine this weekend and make myself some cappuccinos, because it’s been a hot hot minute. We’re apparently in a heat advisory all weekend, too, and into next week again. And yes, it would be nice to stay inside all weekend, but I will run those other errands tomorrow, because I don’t think we’ll be out of this heat any time soon.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and wherever you are, stay hydrated! I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow morning, so until then, be safe!
Heracles battling the Hydra. It’s always bugged me that people use his Roman name when talking about Greek mythology; in Greek, his name was HERACLES. In other words, if you’re talking about Zeus and Hera, his nam is Heracles. If you say Hercules, you need to use Jupiter and Juno. (I blame Disney for a lot of this, but it happened before their movie, too.) I’ve also kind of always wanted to write about him, too.
Thursday, and my last day in the office this week; huzzah! I am kind of looking forward to a work-at-home Friday; I’ve not had one in quite a while. I went to Alabama one Friday, followed by the 4th, followed by a mandatory in person staff meeting, and of course last week was Staff Development Day. I don’t have to get up to the alarm tomorrow, nor do I have to rush around getting ready for the day. Instead I can have my coffee and breakfast, catch up on news, and post a new entry here before checking in for the day. I have a lot of quality assurance to get done for our site visit next week, but I pretty much have my day job under control now; I’ve finally come up with an efficient system that will always have me caught up on some part of the job, which is lovely. I honestly don’t know why I didn’t come up with this system before, frankly.
The weather wasn’t much of anything yesterday, really. The heat advisory was called off in the morning around eleven, and sure, there was some wind of mild concern (but not consequence) and the rain was more of a misty thing once that started in the afternoon; not the kind of insane flooding downpours we usually get; there was no thunder or lightning, which was very strange; we rarely get that kind of a rain. I was a bit on the tired side when I gor home, but I did some chores before being Sparky’s cuddle cushion for a few hours. We watched another episode of Cross, which is definitely holding our interest, but I am really looking forward to the Hannah Waddingham/Octavia Butler action/adventure show that just dropped. And we still haven’t watched the latest seasons of Bridgerton or Stranger Things.
And yet we’re always trying to find something to watch. Sigh. For All Mankind looks interesting, too.
Apparently, George Zimmermann is homeless and has all kinds of mental issues–including PTSD. All these years later, and he still wants to play victim. Aw, maybe you shouldn’t have murdered a teenager that you also stalked first, you racist piece of shit. You got your MAGA fifteen minutes, and now they have abandoned you, like they always do. Kyle Rittenhouse, this is your future, and I love that for you. (The fact that every single one of them thinks they’ll be the exception whose life won’t be destroyed in the end really needs to be studied.)
Our anniversary was Monday and we both forgot! I blame the world’s madness and all the national media terror reporting on tropical storm Bertha (if you want good and not “the world is ending!” hurricane news, your best bet are the local news in New Orleans, Mobile, and Pensacola; Houston also does an excellent job). I told Paul last night and we had a good chuckle. I remembered because I realized yesterday that I’ll be turning sixty-five in less than a month, followed by fuck, our anniversary is a month before my birthday and WE BOTH FORGOT. But as I have said about birthdays and Christmas numerous times before, neither one of us care very much about things like that–and now that both our mothers are dead, both of those holidays mean even less than they did when they were alive, so it’s no surprise that once we reached the thirty-first anniversary we’d not care and completely forget about it. I mean, every day with Paul is marvelous, and I appreciate what we have every day, so we don’t really need to commemorate when it started. I know people think it’s weird, but we are both so alike when it comes to most things that it’s hard for me to ever argue against the whole soul mate relationship theories.
I did feel a bit drained when I got home from work yesterday, probably the subconscious reacting to all the doom watching yesterday. I feel good this morning, but will probably feel tired this afternoon. I am going to run uptown after work to get the mail and do a minor grocery stop (or have it delivered, hmmm) so I can just stay home all weekend. I am hoping to get back on my writing horse tonight and this weekend, too, so we’ll see how it all goes.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning. Till then!
Tuesday morning here at Spice Mines Estates and it is raining.–but supposed to clear up shortly. I slept well again, too, which was also nice. I woke up an hour before my alarm, and stayed under the blankets because it was so comfortable.
Yesterday was a bit dreary; it rained off-and-on all day (no flood watches or warnings, thank God). It was overcast and chilly with damp when I came home (a mere 78 degrees outside). I stopped off and made groceries on the way home, and was bitterly disappointed that again, I found no creole tomatoes. So annoying, and it’s really hard to eat regular tomatoes once you’ve had a creole. The rest just taste like water now. I was a bit off during the day, or rather, it took me longer to snap to it than it usually does, but I think that’s because I had to get up and go to work in the rain, when I would have much rather have stayed in bed under my comfy and warm pile of blankets. The day at work wasn’t bad, either. It was busy enough to pass the time but slow enough for me to figure out what needs to get done this week. I’m actually adapting, finally, at long last. Getting up in the morning is no longer an ordeal, and I generally am fully awake by the time I get to the office. Going in later so I don’t have to rush has been an unexpected boon, and I like not having to rush in the morning, which always, inevitably means forgetting something.
I also got to work on the book for a while when I got home. As I mentioned the other day, I was struggling a bit with Chapter Two, so moved on to Chapter Three, which I got through yesterday and even got started a bit on the next chapter. I was able to repurpose the scene with Big Dick Nick and thus keep it, and also was able to make “I’ve never been interested in dames” work in this new version, which I am enjoying working on. I love his voice, and am very glad I finally found it. I am hoping to get this new chapter finished this week, and then i have to figure out where the story is going once that one is finished. I may have to work on short stories or something else while my brain comes up with the next three or four chapters. So exciting, really. It’s fun to be excited about writing again. It’s amazing what an overall life improvement all this free time I have now is!
We also watched this week’s House of the Dragon; does anyone know if this is the last season? It seems, to me, like they are building to the finale–two seasons of plotting and very little happening, and now they cram everything into a final season? But it’s a George R. R. Martin show; I am sure they can drag this out for another season. I am very much enjoying this season, but it’s also difficult because there really is no one to root for in this. I suppose Rhaenyra is the heroine–she’s the one consistently fucked over by everyone else’s greed, envy and desire for power–and the actor playing her is fantastic. We also started the new season of Cross, which is pretty fun thus far. I think, since HOD has redeemed itself, perhaps we can give A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms a go.
I was saddened to learn of the recent passing of Jameson Currier, a very kind and talented man I had the pleasure of knowing. Jim was actually an enormous help to me early in my career, and I’ve always been grateful to him–plus, he was so much fun to gossip with. I’ll probably write about him some more, if I can figure out how to do it without making it all about me–which is what I usually do; my narcissism and self-absorption know no boundaries. I didn’t know him as well as I knew Felice or Dorothy or Victoria–the others who befriended me and took an interest in me and my career, but he helped open some doors for me that led me to being where I am today, and that is something I will be eternally grateful for–and if you can get a copy of his novel Where the Rainbow Ends, I highly recommend it; it’s one of the few AIDS novels that ends with some hope, making it pretty remarkable. I cried when I finished it because it was beautiful.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and may it always be filled with as many tacos of your preference as you can handle. I will be back on the morrow–somehow it’s pay day again, how? But, until then, adieu.
I mean, aren’t they a cute couple? Cue gay sports romance in pro wrestling world.
Sunday morning and I hope it finds you doing well, Constant Reader. It’s kind of gray outside my windows this morning, and it’s raining, off and on; not a gully-washer like the occasional tropical downpours we get on occasion, but enough so that everything outside is wet and glistening. It’s supposed to be lovely today, but the temperature is dropping overnight and it’s going to be in the bitterly cold thirties the rest of the week. Yay, but this too shall pass. Tomorrow is Twelfth Night and the official beginning of Carnival; so on my way home tomorrow night I’ll stop and get our first King cake of the 2025 season. Yay, king cake! We are both fans. Paul picked up this year’s copy of Arthur Hardy’s Mardi Gras Guide, a staple of the season. We’ve bought a copy every year we’ve lived here, and while the “parade watcher” app makes parade-going much easier, it’s also nice to have around.
What are we going to do when we lose Arthur Hardy? I don’t even want to think about it.
I have a lot to get done today. I did work some yesterday but not much; I was kind of tired after going to the gym (yay!) and making groceries, so I just kind of collapsed into my easy chair after putting the groceries away and just relaxed. I did finish reading Winter Counts (more on that later) which I enjoyed, and started reading my next read, Ode to Billy Joe by Herman Raucher. Last spring–and I don’t know why–I remembered Summer of ’42, the novel by Herman Raucher that was made into a film in the early 1970’s. I enjoyed both book and movie; it’s very poignant and sweet, and I later made the connection when I was writing my post about Robby Benson and my crush on him when I was a young gay…and then remembered he’d been in the film version of Ode to Billy Joe, which sent me down a rabbit hole–the song, the book, the movie–which is an interesting journey. I wound up ordering a copy of the novel from a second-hand book website, and so I started reading it finally. It’s weird; it was originally a haunting story song hit for Bobbie Gentry, and they decided to make a movie of it. They hired Raucher to adapt the song into a screenplay, and he went one better–not only writing the screenplay but writing a novel as well. So, is it a novelization of a movie, or a novelization of a song that became a movie? It’s actually very well written; the movie was dated and I didn’t enjoy my rewatch a few years ago, but the book still holds up. I also decided yesterday that I am going to alternate crime fiction with another genre or style of fiction, to broaden my scope and better inform my own writing.
I slept well last night, even if it took me longer to fall asleep than usual, which was odd. I wasn’t nearly as tired as I usually am when I went to bed, but I did drag my ass out of bed this morning. Sparky didn’t let me sleep late this morning–later than my usual, but far earlier than the last two mornings–so hopefully I’ll feel tired tonight. I made it to the gym yesterday, and so am a bit tight and sore this morning, but at the same time I am very pleased I did go. I tried to talk myself into waiting till today, but finally around one I snapped out of it and went. The one thing I’ve noticed besides the muscle fatigue is that mu shoulder is a lot looser and freer now–it’s been tight for a while, and sometimes it felt like it needed to, I don’t know, pop? Like a knuckle that won’t crack? But since I started working out again (granted, only twice but that’s also two more times than if I hadn’t, so there), it feels a lot better and more usable than before. Yay! Should have never stopped going last spring, but if wishes were horses and all that nonsense. Even the tightness of the other muscle groups feels kind of good. Now, if I can just remember to find time to stretch every day…
The weekend hasn’t been a waste for writing, either. I reread some works in progress, worked a bit on the synopsis of The Summer of Lost Boys, and reread Chapter 2 of new Scotty preparatory to revising it this morning. I have some short stories to work on and more to read–Saints and Sinners short story contest judging work–so I may not have as much time today to read for fun as I might want, but I think I can get through Ode to Billy Joe this week before moving on to my next read, which will be a crime novel from a marginalized author.
We finished watching Cross yesterday, and I have to admit we enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the show turned out to be a lot better than I was expecting. Shows produced by streaming services can often be hit-or-miss, and other than The Boys I generally don’t go into Prime shows with a lot of expectations. I think Cross could have been six episodes instead of eight, but they did an excellent job of juggling different crime storylines against each other as well as making the viewer wonder if it was two different cases or the same one. That’s not easy to do, and is even harder for a television series to pull off than a book. We then watched a really fun crime show called Killer Heat, which was a modern take on film noir/hard boiled private eye stories. Starring Joseph Gordon Leavitt (whom I will watch in anything), Richard Madden, and Shailene Woodley, it’s done very well and is quite fun to watch until they don’t quite nail the landing, but hey–it was an excellent attempt, and they got everything right–including excellent performances from the two main leads (Richard Madden was kind of wasted in the role of identical twin billionaires, one of whom’s murder opens the movie; the part wasn’t well written and any hot actor with a good body could have done the job)–and we definitely enjoyed it.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, and I may be back later. One can never be entirely certain, can one?
I had something go a little viral (in a very small way) on Threads; New Year’s morning when I saw, after what happened here, that garbage “humans” were blaming “the border”1 for it (um, well actually it was an American military vet, bitch) and posted MTG needs to keep New Orleans out of her hellmouth and at last count, I was at well over a thousand likes and an equally insane amount of reposts–and no “libt@rd” replies for me to block, either. Now, imagine had I put that on Twitter (fuck you now and forever, Elmo, I will always deadname your shitty app). Would I have escaped being swarmed by right wing trolls? Probably not, which was one of the many reasons that helped me break the addiction to Twitter and delete my account. Sometimes I miss interacting with people there (Jericho Brown, for one, and other friends, too), but I do not miss the toxicity and the really bad takes from trashy trolls and bots.
The energy around town yesterday was very off. Of course we all talked about the incident all day at work–the clients, too–and the vibe that’s always there, even when you’re not paying attention, just didn’t feel right. I saw a lot of social media posts yesterday that were love notes to New Orleans, and the love notes far far outnumbered the disgusting bottom-feeding ones (see MTG reference above). And reading those, I started remembering back over the years. Not just the years I’ve been so blessed to live here, but the ones going back to the day when Bienville came up Bayou St. John from Lake Pontchartrain to the island surrounded by swamp alongside the Mississippi River. New Orleans has had this kind of horror before; the biggest mass death event for gay men until Pulse was the Upstairs Lounge Fire in the early 1970s. Hundreds and thousands died during fever season. There was bubonic plague during the Wilson administration, and a massive hurricane a few years later that wiped out entire communities. New Orleans has always understood that death is a part of life, and no one knows when Death will come for you–so live every day like it’s your last; squeeze every bit of joy and pleasure and happiness out of life you can because it can all go away tomorrow, chér. And I remembered back to that time I came here for my birthday in 1994, and an entire new world and life opened up in front of my eyes as I got out of the cab at the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann–and I’ve said before, the city whispered in my ear come live here and I will make your dreams come true.
I love my city, and it will do what it does best. It will mourn its dead and raise money for survivors and celebrate the lives of those lost in this horrific act, the way we always do. New Orleans will not stop being what it is or who we are. We held Carnival after Hurricane Katrina and it was marvelous, absolutely fucking marvelous, and exactly what we needed when we needed it the most. New Orleans will always celebrate being alive, and that’s really part of the charm of this city; not only do we welcome everyone we encourage and celebrate difference, and find joy in finding community all together. What will Carnival be like after this? Joyous but cautious, I would imagine; but as always, Carnival puts everyone into a great mood and we celebrate that we’re still here.
I was tired yesterday–didn’t rest enough I guess after returning to the gym, which I am hoping to do again later on today–so I didn’t get as much writing as I would have liked to get done; I did take Chapter One to over five thousand words from slightly more than three thousand; not bad for a working week. I am hoping to get through the rest of the original chapters this weekend (no college football, nor do I have as much to do as I usually do on a weekend, either, which is absolutely 1000% awesome. The drive home was an exercise in Security Theater; cops and police cars everywhere, and they’d closed off the CBD around the Superdome completely, which was a nightmare as the CBD is the area closest to the interstate–how many people get home from work–so maneuvering around stupid drivers and closed streets and blocked lanes was quite the adventure in irritation and frustration.
Sigh.
Also: I am sick and tired of white racists saying “it’s not safe!!!!” about New Orleans when what you really mean is “too many Blacks live there.” This usually goes along with some pious weeping about how much they used to love New Orleans back when it was safer…newsflash, K-K-Karen: New Orleans is as safe as it ever has been. When you were a child, your parents never talked to you about crime, but when precisely was New Orleans this paragon of safety? New Orleans was always a major port–and major ports aren’t exactly known for decorous behavior and peace and quiet. Was it safer when the Mafia ran the Quarter? When the Upstairs Lounge burned with over thirty people inside? When prostitution was legal in Storyville, or when New Orleans was the liquor capital of North America during Prohibition? Crime has always been rampant here, and this vile racist pretense that before desegregation New Orleans set the standard for law-abiding American cities? Hardly. Just admit your parents or grandparents didn’t want the kids in your family to go to school with Black kids and be done with it, okay?
I feel pretty confident that twink-in-barely-more-than-a-thong will trigger the puritans.
I wonder how long before this post gets flagged by social media puritans as “adult content?” Yesterday’s post was flagged as porn by the cosplaying Puritans at Threads–a man in his underwear is pornography; bare female breasts or some woman with an enormous ass in only a thong proliferate everywhere. Seriously–fuck all of the way off, censors–and think about the message you are actually sending women with your selective application of “oops, this is porn! Shame on you!” to shots of men in swimsuits or underwear, but okaying degrading and demeaning pictures of women every fucking day.
But…Facebook began as a way to rank and score girls who wouldn’t fuck Zuckerberg by a hotness scale, so here we are.
It’s a work at home Friday for me today, and we’re going to Costco later, after I finish my work at home duties. The house is in better shape than usual (thank you, day off on Wednesday and cleaning), so there isn’t as much housework to get done this weekend. My muscles are tight this morning, so I am going to have to do some stretching, and then head back to the gym tomorrow. I also learned something else about myself yesterday–I always rush through my workouts and get extremely frustrated if I have to wait on a machine. When I went the other day, I took my time. I moved through the exercises relatively quickly, but I did them all slowly, didn’t allow myself to get frustrated, and didn’t try to rush through it. And again, I realized I was so focused for so long on using my time effectively and efficiently and trying to do everything as quickly as I can that…it was much easier to get annoyed and frustrated and cut the workout short or something like that. This time, taking my time and actually feeling the muscles work instead of going through so fast that I don’t notice any burn until I am finished isn’t the best way to exercise. I also don’t have the anxiety anymore, so I also don’t feel like I need to get through everything as fast as I can because I don’t have as much to do as I used to. But the good news is my shoulder and arm do not feel any more sore or fatigued than anywhere else; in fact, it actually feels better than it has in a while.
Louder, for those in the back: clearly I should have continued exercising after I was done with Physical Therapy. But…I wasn’t in a good place for the most part last year, so it is what it is and I can’t change that now so move forward and remember. And also remember how good it felt to go to the gym and exercise in the first place.
I also started writing a synopsis of The Summer of Lost Boys last night, too–which felt good and was kind of fun to do. I also need to work on some short stories this weekend, run a few errands, and do some picking up around here. I want to write some today after work, and I think I’m pretty much done with the college football play-offs. There’s no one left that I care about watching; in fact, not a fan of any of the final four, to be honest. LSU already played their bowl game2 and so…who cares? It’s Gymnastics season now, and LSU is the defending national champions, so that’s very cool.
We’re watching Cross, which we’re enjoying; we also finished Hysteria! earlier this week, and it was a lot of fun.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a terrific Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later today; one can never be certain.
They still are blaming illegal immigrants despite the fact the killer was born and raised here and was a veteran of our military! They are quite literally the fucking worst humans ever born. The next four years are just going to be a shit show. ↩︎
They did win, by the way, beating Baylor 44-31. ↩︎
Queer and Loathing in America 