Monday morning and I have an ophthalmologist appointment before I head into work. I slept super-great again last night, but didn’t really want to get up this morning. The appointment is pretty far out for me in Kenner (near Clearview), and I have no idea what time I will get to work. This is to check me for Stargardt disease, which my sister has and is genetic. I also have errands to run after work tonight–post office, make some groceries–before I come home to an apartment and all my chores. I was very tired yesterday–drained from the trip and all the driving over three days or so–and was able to only get some filing and organizing done, as well as ordered groceries for delivery and put them all away. The sink has dishes in it, there are dishes in the dishwasher that need to be put away, and the floors are always the worst. If I can stand it, I can do a bit every night before really focusing on it Friday, which is a holiday I don’t feel much like celebrating or acknowledging this year, given the dismantling of everything since January. I also have to get the bills figured out–I am terribly confused about these medical bills I am getting–and have a shit load of writing to do.
We started watching Olympo, a Spanish series about an athletic training school, and it’s quite fun. Not as fun as Elité, but we’re also only three episodes in. The big mystery of season one seems to be the use of performing enhancing drugs, with a swimmer collapsing and another swimmer determined to find out what’s going on. There’s also queer content; both gay and sapphic, which is very fun. Naturally, the cast is all gorgeous young Spaniards, which makes it very pleasant to watch. I’ll let you know how it goes.
I need to finish reading my current three reads (Summerhouse, Sing Me a Death Song, The Crying Child) before moving on to my next three. I also need to get back writing again; it seems like months since I’ve worked on anything, which is silly–I worked on writing last week, but the trip makes everything seem like it all happened an eternity ago, which is one of those weird time things I’m becoming more and more aware of the longer I live. I also need to clean out my email inbox, pay some bills, and pull my life back together–I’ve not been on top of things since I got sick after Saints and Sinners, really. Definitely need to. make a to-do list and a grocery list before heading out this morning, and maybe do some things around here before leaving for the appointment.
I did go down a research rabbit hole on Youtube again yesterday, though–more 1970s research, and I was also remembering the Bicentennial and how it really started overpowering the zeitgeist after President Nixon resigned and was pardoned. Next year is the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence; I am a little surprised that it’s not as big of a deal, or even a deal at all, so far. But we were a different country in 1976 than we are now, aren’t we? I was still in high school, we’d just moved to Kansas, and the Olympics were coming up, too–Montreal and Nadia Comaneci–so that was a busy summer for me, and one of major changes for one Gregalicious. (If you think it wasn’t a major change to go from a suburban Chicago high school to a rural one in Kansas, think again.) I also have Alabama stories bouncing through my head since I drove home on Saturday.
But now I have to get back to the spice mines and make that to-do list before cleaning up for the appointment and a short day in the office. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow as the month changes and the summer ratchets everything up even hotter than it was in June.
In order to honor the Olympics1, I’ve decided that my “hot man” daily image will be Olympic athletes, mostly present day but also including gorgeous men from past Olympics as well, through the course of these Games. I always loved the Olympics, even as a kid who wasn’t all that interested in team sports–I was always interested in individual sports (probably the introversion caused by the anxiety and ADD) more and the Olympics are nothing if not about the individual sport more so than the team efforts–and naturally, I gravitated to the ones where the athletes either wore very little, or something incredibly skintight. We did get to watch some of the Olympics yesterday, with the swimming relays and so forth, which was terrific and fun.2
It rained most of the day yesterday and as such I didn’t run my errands yesterday. (I’m going to Fresh Market this morning to get some things and will hit the grocery store again on the way home from work on Monday.) I didn’t write yesterday, either. The rain made me lazy, as it always does, but at least I got some of the chores done. We also finished watching the first season of Those About to Die, which was fun if not fully engaging, and certainly entertaining enough on its own. The final season of Elité also dropped, and there are several other things out now that I want to watch (Lady in the Lake being one) but this morning I need to get things picked up around the office space, finish some chores that got started, and then I’ll probably settle in for some Olympic enjoyment. Yay! I do love the Olympics. The first ones I remember are 1972, in Munich–Olga Korbut and Mark Spitz and the murders of the Israeli athletes. (They actually allowed us to watch the coverage of the hostage situation at my junior high because “it’s history.”) Paul and I were laughing about the Christian Nationalist response to them last night, and trying to remember opening ceremonies of the past. Athens and Beijing were the two that stood out the most to me (ironically, Fox News didn’t turn Athens’ celebration of Greece’s pagan past into a boycott, go figure, and the fact they were outraged this year because they were too stupid to understand what they were seeing is all anyone really needs to know about them: they get mad about things they don’t understand–and the French are now laughing at their ignorance). I do need to write today, and after I get this done and the kitchen organized, I am going to settle in to doing just that very thing.
I feel much more awake and alive this morning than I did yesterday, which is a lovely thing. It’s also very bright and sunny outside this morning, as opposed to yesterday’s gloom. I don’t really have to get much at the store today, just something for tonight’s dinner and a few other things, too, so going to the store shouldn’t be a tiring thing for me today. I am also going to make a to-do list this morning, and hopefully, that will keep me on track this week, and getting things done and accomplished. I want to get back into the old routine where I was a determined writer who got a lot done every week. I do have a ridiculous amount of down time now, and it’s taking some getting used to–I still feel guilty when choosing a down day or an evening off, but the book is really the only thing I’m getting behind on, which is also fine, you know? My emails never take long to get caught up on, and it’s so nice to not be buried in emails every fucking hour on the hour. I’ve been on social media a little too much lately–it’s hard to believe that it was only last Sunday afternoon that President Biden dropped out of the race. It seems like it’s been weeks, so much has rapidly changed over the course of this past week, that’s it hard to believe it’s been a mere seven days. It’s also lovely not seeing anything on social media from the pro-fascist mainstream media anymore. I do not miss the New York Times, Washington Post, CNN, or MSNBC3, and will continue to live without them until I am in the grave.
My coffee is hitting perfectly this morning too, and I am so hungry! I didn’t eat a lot yesterday, like a fool, and so of course this morning I am starving. I didn’t really have much to make for dinner, so I had a turkey sandwich and Paul got a frozen pizza for us for dinner, but obviously, that wasn’t filling–as I am finding out this morning.
I spent a lot of time yesterday cleaning up files (partly because my brain was too fogged yesterday so I knew I wouldn’t write) and oh my God, the essay file. SO many essays, so many drafts of them, so many with different names, so many different essays that are thematically the same as so many others. I had to file some new essay drafts yesterday, and that led me to realize how hard those folders were to navigate because of the lack of organization. It’s better now, but still needs some more work–and I also realized yesterday that I can post my old essays on writing and other things on Substack to keep the content going on a weekly basis so I don’t ever have to really worry about coming up with content; there are so fucking many, really. I wrote so many articles and columns, and they are just sitting in my files. There are also so many that I started and never finished, too. I doubt that the fitness ones would ever come in handy for anyone or anything, but the ones about self-esteem and work ethic and mind/body/spirit could work still. I could also rewrite them, because I am sure now I would read them over and cringe.
And maybe take some boxes down from on top of the cabinets. I think one is just filled with other packaging debris, and I kept it in case I wanted to send the vaccum (which I’ve hardly used) back.
And on that note, I need to get something to eat before I shrivel up. Have a great Sunday, and I may be back later. If not, till the morrow, Constant Reader.
Nathan Adrian, past Olympian in swimming
Plus, this title is another shot at trashbag Just Douchey Vance, which will never get old. ↩︎
I would also like to point out that the Olympics are supposed to rise above everything else to celebrate sport and athleticism. I was a little bummed to see an American athlete being mocked yesterday and his bad day celebrated by people on my political side. Sure, I am not a fan of MAGA and love mocking them every chance I get, but we should rise above that nonsense for the Olympics. I’ve always reviled the politicization of the Games, and always will. All that matters is they are repping our country, for better or for worse. ↩︎
MSNBC’s “excitement” over the new ticket–which they think they are responsible for–doesn’t negate the fact that the Democratic resurgence was not what they were trying to do. They were hoping for a repeat of 1968 (also a Chicago convention) which would leave the party in disarray and the door wide open for a MAGA takeover, for their ratings. Fuck them, now and forever. ↩︎
Saturday morning and we’ve at long last made it to the weekend! Huzzah! I have a lot to do this weekend, and I even have to leave the house both nights. This afternoon I am attending a co-worker’s wedding; tomorrow I am having dinner at San Lorenzo with my friend Ellen. Woo-hoo! Yesterday was a good day. I did my work-at-home chores, along with chores, and then ran some errands so I wouldn’t have to do them today–a decision I am very grateful for this morning, believe you me. I then read Angel Luis Colón’s Infested for a while, finished my reread of Death Drop, and watched an episode of Moonlighting. I also rewatched the last two episodes of Our Flag Means Death again–glad I did; I slept through most of them and they were most witty and clever and funny. When Paul got home we started the new season of Elité, but it’s more a habit and completionism to continue watching it at this point. It’s glory days are long past, I barely remember who any of the characters are, and I don’t really remember much of last season, to be honest.
Sigh. But those first three seasons are still epic television. This is kind of what I mean when I talk about shows that keep going because they’re successful when they should have stopped when they were ahead; the season three finale was an excellent stopping place–but at the same time I would have been terribly bummed had the show ended there, too. Be careful what you wish for, right?
The sun was bright and high this morning, just as it was yesterday morning, which leads me to believe the time change should have been this weekend instead of two or three weeks from now. It used to always be in October; and I don’t know why or when it was changed to November, but if we’re going to have to do this every year, can’t we at least have it happen when it always used to happen? I slept really well last night–I’ve been sleeping well all week, actually. I think the change in the weather has helped with that dramatically. I still feel a bit groggy this morning, but that’s okay. I am going to write this and read some more of Infested once it’s posted, and then I have some things to do around here. The wedding window period is from 4-9, with the actual ceremony around five. I am going to try really hard not to be that person who always arrives ahead of the scheduled time and has to sit around waiting for everyone else to show up–the story of my life–and I am quite determined not to even summon a Lyft until four o’clock.
I’m really enjoyed Infested, but I knew I would. I’ve been a long-time admirer of Angel’s work for quite some time now, and his narrative voice is absolutely perfect in this book. I’m not sure if it’s considered middle-grade or y/a–that line is always so blurry–but it’s quite engaging and I really like the main character. I’m also not entirely sure I’ve read a book before that’s set entirely in the Bronx? (And why is it “the Bronx”? It’s not “the Queens” or “the Brooklyn” or “the Manhattan”, but just saying “Bronx” without the article is weird…although I suspect that’s entirely from years of hearing it said with the article.) I am really enjoying it.
I’ve thought about writing for middle grade (I’ve literally thought about writing everything other than fantasy –I even have some science fiction, incredibly bad, in the files) but am not sure if I can do it, which is precisely the reason I should try writing it. I’ve always wanted to do my own kind of Nancy Drew-style series for kids, have wanted to ever since I was a kid reading those books, and I’d really like to at least give it a try at some point before I finally exit the planet or am unable to write anything anymore. Although can I really write for middle-graders when I don’t know any kids that age? Writing is writing, I suppose, and the best thing to do is try it and write the very best book I can with the very best characters I can; I do think two of my strengths as a writer are likable characters and a good narrative style that draws the reader in. Can that translate to middle grade mysteries? I guess I will never know unless I try–and maybe, just maybe, I could write one set in New Orleans?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines with my book to read. Have a lovely Saturday; I may be back later; you never know!
So, we brought this little fella home yesterday from the SPCA.
His name, already given to him when we picked him, is Rum-Tum-Tugger (I announced it incorrectly on social media yesterday with a typo calling him Tigger by mistake) and that will probably change as we get to know him better; he doesn’t know the name at all. He’s almost five months old, and is completely fearless. I wanted to take all the cats home (and the dogs, too; it’s always so sad to me to see their hopeful faces and their wagging tails, thinking you might be their rescuer. All the cats we met were sweet, some a little shy (Sing out Louise!) which made me sad because they seemed to put some effort into making friends, but are apparently used to not being picked they gave up trying to win us over once we walked away from them. Tug was having none of that, and let us know he was the only cat for us. He has the cutest little meow, and there was no shyness at all once we got him home; he fearlessly explored the entire apartment, made cuddle time as well as let us both know, with head butts and purrs and exposed belly and making biscuits, that he was happy to have his Forever Home. I woke up this morning to him purring and curled up next to me on my pillow, and last night he followed Paul up to bed–and then came back down looking for me the way Scooter used to–hey, it’s bed time! He’s a kitten so he’s very playful–he made toys out of wrappers and dust and whatever he could find on the floor–he chased my highlighter around on the floor for a good half an hour or so.
Obviously, he needs some toys. Scooter didn’t care about toys, but clearly our very playful house tiger kitten needs things to play with.
I slept really well last night, despite going to bed so late–we finished off Sex Education last night. I don’t know if that was the finale for the show or just for the season, but it seemed like the perfect way to end the show if that was the intent. The season was a bit uneven, but they all learned important lessons and fractured families and friendships began healing. I also was incredibly satisfied with how the Otis/Maeve relationship was wrapped up. It seems to me that another season would undo this season, if that makes sense, and another one would feel kind of forced. The actors are getting too old for their roles, if that makes sense (much the same as the original cast of Elité), and I liked the note the season ended on.
This morning I am trying cacao instead of coffee, and just brewed my first ever cup of it. Here’s hoping it tastes as good as it smells? It’s unsweetened chocolate, really; and by itself, it’s kind of bland. But adding vanilla and sweet-n-low makes it taste more like hot chocolate. I’m trying this out as a coffee alternative; it’s supposed to give you a coffee-like energy but without caffeine, and without the caffeine there’s no crash later. I kind of like it. I don’t know that it’ll replace coffee in my daily routine, but it’s good and we’ll see how the effects play out with me. I am going to drop beads off today for the disabled kids, and books to the library sale but don’t really feel like I need to make a grocery run. I think we have everything we need, so it can wait until one night after work on my way home. I also need to get gas and air up my car tires, now that the weather has gotten milder. I’ll be taking it in for an oil change and a tire rotation this coming Friday.
LSU plays at Mississippi tonight; it’s the Magnolia Bowl rivalry game so they always, like Arkansas, play like world-beaters when they play LSU. They can make their season by beating LSU, and after last week I am not so confident the Tigers will make it out of Oxford with a win–they also got beat by Alabama last week for the seventh or eighth year in a row, so they also need the win to stay relevant in the division and the conference; it would take a miracle for them to win the West with two losses. (I refuse to call the University of Mississippi by its commonly used nickname for any number of reasons, not the least of which is that it’s a callback to plantation days. That school has been problematic for decades, but at least they no longer wave Confederate treason flags at games; how must seeing that have felt to visiting Black players? Obviously, their fans didn’t give a shit, like how Alabama’s student section was chanting homophobic and racist slurs at the Texas players several weeks ago–nothing says welcome to the SEC like homophobia and racism.) I’m not sure what other games are on today, but I think for me today I am going to clean up around the house some and finish reading Shawn’s book so I can move on to Halloween Horror Month. I feel like I slept well but have low energy this morning, and I am just going to roll with the low energy and rest and relax for the majority of the day so I can get some writing done tomorrow. Next weekend I’ll be in Panama City Beach for the night visiting Dad and my aunts and uncles, so no writing will get done that weekend. I think I will try to work on Jackson Square Jazz during the games today, too.
So, on that note i am going to head into the spice mines. The kitchen is a disaster area, as always, and I should have spent some time on it last night, but that’s what Saturday morning is for; catching up on things. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back at some point.
I really didn’t want to get out of the cocoon of my bed this morning. The heavy blankets felt marvelous on top of me, and my body was completely relaxed into the mattress…and it was raining. Is there anything more lovely than being warm and snug and comfortable in a bed while it rains outside? I think not. I wasn’t even aware it was raining until I got up and came downstairs, where I could hear it clearly, and then ah, that’s why you stayed in bed longer this morning. Yesterday was a lovely day off from everything. I did pick up the mail and made some groceries at the Fresh Market. But when I went to the gas station to air up my tires–the light had come on–I noticed there was a small rip in the tire through which air was escaping. I came back home, got my Gorilla tape, and covered the rip before running the errands. When I got back home the tire seemed fine still…but every tire place was already closed for the day, which was terribly annoying. I had intended to make another stop on my errands yesterday but wasn’t able to from worry about the tire; I had been debating putting more air in it this morning and running the errand…knowing I have to get up super-early tomorrow to head to the dealer and buy a new tire and have it put on, making me late to work. At some point today I will be checking the appointment schedule for tomorrow morning to make sure it’s not an enormous hardship for me to be late coming in, but it has to be done. I can’t count on Gorilla tape to keep my tire from deflating, let alone having a blow out or something…so yeah, probably no errands today. My biggest fear is that the tire will be flat tomorrow morning, necessitating a tow truck or something.
Ah, well, at least I can afford the tire.
But obviously that was worrisome and frustrating, so I wound up not getting a lot of things I’d intended to do yesterday done. I had planned on not writing all day anyway, just having a nice relaxing day off from everything and everyone, but I never got around to reading my book, which was annoying. I did do a lot of filing and cleaning up my “sorting” folder (it’s where I put things temporarily to get them out of the way until I have the time to put them where they go), and I did some things around the house, but essentially almost the entirety of the day was wasted. Which is fine; I wanted to have a day where I didn’t do much of anything nor taxed my brain. We started watching an odd show last night, Muted, which stars two of the Elité cast (including my crush, the stunningly beautiful Manu Rios), but I couldn’t tell you much about the show because I kept falling asleep. I actually went to bed around ten last night–ten! On a Saturday night!–and slept super well, which was lovely. Friday night we watched Scream VI, which was fun, and Teen Wolf the Movie, which was pointless and stupid and completely made for fan service (and missing the Carver twins and the breakout star of the show, Dylan O’Brien), which was a shame. In some ways it seemed like a pilot for a reboot of the series with a new, younger leading man; which we would probably give a shot. (We really enjoyed the series for the first seasons; it eventually got so sloppy and confusing we did stop watching, but it was fun for a very long time, and definitely was one of the most homoerotic television series in history; I could write an entire essay about that aspect of the show alone–which would, of course, lead to the entire question of “queerbaiting,” which is a subject that often makes me tired. Then again, a lot of things make me tired.
The recent incident(s) at CrimeFest and the organization’s incredibly tepid response to the controversy (a moderator was inappropriate to a debut author before their panel; the toastmaster was a racist transphobic homophobic prick “but it was comedy” piece of shit) was deeply offensive. I don’t know what the ‘free speech’ laws are over in the United Kingdom, but I know what ours are, and I would like to think if someone got on stage as host at the banquets for either the Edgars, Anthonys, Agathas, or Leftys and started with “my pronouns are grammatically correct” yes, there would probably be some laughter, but there would also be boos and protests…and I’d like to think they would be pulled from the stage. But nothing surprises me anymore, really, when it comes to these sort of things. I saw yesterday a gay man expressing concern about the lack of action and the tepid public apology, only to have the usual response some a cisgender straight white woman saying you weren’t there and you don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes–you know, the usual condescending pats on the head from a stupid straight bitch who thinks she’s a fucking ally while actually being a homophobic piece of shit herself. Let me put it to you this way: if you wouldn’t condescend or speak to a cisgender straight man the same way, guess what? You’re homophobicand need to do better.
I think that’s one of the worst parts of being gay, you know? The cisgender straight people who think they are allies and proudly state so, all of the time; but give them the opening and they will immediately treat you like someone lesser. Because Anita Bryant, Maggie Gallagher, and the Libs of TikTok skank aren’t all cisgender straight white women, or Ann Coulter, Laura Ingraham, Marsha Blackburn–I could be here all day. It wasn’t gay men or queer people who put Donald Trump in the White House–it was straight white women. I can’t speak for anyone else in my community, but it’s extremely difficult for me to ever completely trust a cisgender straight white person, because they’re the ones who do all the damage and they’re the ones who choose to make us their villains. It’s incredibly easy to just sit around and say nothing homophobic, keeping all of your bigotries to yourself. But people are proud to be bigots; that’s the part I don’t get; there are people who can watch Mississippi Burning and think the FBI are the bad guys.
And then the public ignorance and cowardice of the Los Angeles Dodgers, caving into the demands of Marco Rubio (of all people) and the Catholic League, deciding to not give the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence an award recognizing all of their hard advocacy work going back decades and excluding them from the event of their Pride Night…only to be stunned, shocked and surprised when the other organizations being awarded at their so-called “Pride” Night pulled out and issued statements condemning them for their cowardice. I posted a rather lengthy (for me) thread about this on Twitter yesterday, explaining to the Dodgers and everyone else why this is so incredibly insulting and offensive to the entire queer community. For one thing, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were originally formed in 1979, got their habits from a group of progressive nuns (nuns can be surprisingly progressive; certainly far more so than their male counterparts) for all the charity work they were doing; flamboyance and silliness in the face of a hard world helping those no one else would. They were front and center during the HIV/AIDS crisis, helping people abandoned by society and left to die alone in shame. (The great irony that an organization of men in dresses, who have covered up and enabled the sexual abuse of thousands and thousands of children, complained about another organization of men in dresses who minister to the sick and poor–supposedly the mission of the first group–while accusing them of blasphemy, grooming, and pedophilia, should not escape anyone.)
Catholic Church, heal thyself.
And as I said on Twitter, the Dodgers essentially pissed on the graves of everyone we lost to HIV/AIDS, all the people currently living with the infection, and everyone who has done advocacy work. All to please MARCO FUCKING RUBIO and the Catholic League.
For years, critics of our pride events have complained about the commercialization of pride, going from a community event to one with corporate sponsors–corporate sponsors who also fund anti-queer politicians. The critics have stated that these corporations don’t see and support us because they think we deserve equality, but rather as a demographic with more disposable income than our straight counterparts (which I am never really sure is true, certainly for some upper middle class white cisgender gay men, it’s true, but I don’t know that it’s overall true for the entire community), and Pride is merely a cynical attempt for them to cash in on gay dollars. We’ve already seen Anheuser-Busch cower before our enemies, and now the fucking Dodgers.
So, yes, it appears that the critics were correct. Corporate Pride is merely a cynical attempt to build brand loyalty in what is seen as a key demographic, not actual support. We must never make the mistake of believing otherwise ever again. Corporations will abandon us in the snap of the fingers if challenged to actually put their money where their lying mouths are. It’s depressing that the critics were right all along.
I hate to break it to y’all, but the queer community has a much longer memory than the straight when it comes to this kind of thing, and it’s very hard for any company to come back from such a betrayal. I remember the Coors boycott, when it turned out both the company and the Coors family had funded the politicians that turned Colorado into what we called “the hate state”; and even though the family and company have since come around–good luck ordering a Coors in a gay bar. When your business betrays us we never forget. It just becomes a thing. Every time I see someone drinking a Coors to this day I think homophobe.
It’s astonishing to me how straight people, to this day, still think they can divide and split up our community and we’ll all go along with it. “Oh, we love the gays and want to have a Pride Night, but this part of your community isn’t welcome” always blows up in their faces, and yet…they never fucking learn. I was on the board of directors for the National Stonewall Democrats back in the mid-to-late aughts when our founder, Barney Frank, finally cobbled together enough votes in the House to pass the Employment Non-discrimination Act…but he only had the votes if protections for transpeople was removed from it. Barney was very excited about this…but the NSD saw it as a betrayal. “All or nothing” was our stance then, and we lobbied and called and sent emails–I believe we called the bill SPLENDA, because it was a substitute for the real thing–and killed it. That was in either 2007 or 2008. If we sacrificed a gain for gays, lesbians and bisexuals because of trans exclusion fifteen years ago, I can assure you nothing has changed; if anything, our inclusion insistence has gotten more deeply engrained into our consciousness.
So, we aren’t here for “conditional” acceptance. It really is all or nothing for us. I understand that principles and ethics most cisgender straight white people have a problem with, since they, as a general rule, have neither–but surprisingly enough, my community, always under attack from so-called Christians, actually do believe “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt.25:37–40.)
Seriously, Christians, read the Sermon on the Mount again and get right with your Lord. It’s not that hard.
I am going to dive back into writing the Scotty book today, so I am going to sign off now and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back, as always, at some point.
Getting back to reality was very strange yesterday.
Obviously, I had work to do–I’d been out of the office for over a week and yes, my data entry and uploading and everything was way behind; but fortunately it was also Carnival time so we weren’t all that busy in the clinic during my absence. But it felt very strange being in the office again, like I hadn’t been there in years, which is of course patently absurd on its face. It only seems that way, and let’s face it, I’ve not been good with days and dates for quite some time now, if we’re going to be completely honest, which is something I am trying much harder at these days. Although honesty isn’t always the best policy (“oh what an adorable baby!” is always better than recoiling and saying “yikes!”, even if the second option is probably the most correct one), the truth is so much easier to keep track of–but then again, do you remember the truth? Our memories are colored by our perceptions and biases, and we often rewrite our memories to make ourselves look better than maybe we actually were at the time. I don’t quite trust my memories as absolute truths anymore.
I came home and did a few things, finished reading Abby Collette’s charming Body and Soul Food (more on that later), and then I basically sat in my chair thinking for the rest of the evening, until Paul took a break and we watched the final episode of the first season of Class. It’s so interesting, as the story-lines and characters are essentially the same as season one of Elité, but with enough tweaks and changes, some of them cultural, to make it very interesting. I also wound up going to bed early, which was kind of nice. I didn’t sleep great last night–I kept waking up, and often had trouble falling back asleep–and I know we’re going to be busy in the clinic today, too, which is going to be a challenge–so we’ll see how it goes. My fuse for the dryer is supposed to arrive today as well, so if it does and I am not too tired when I get home from the office, I may go ahead and attempt to see if I can get the dryer to work again. If it doesn’t, well, we’re going to have go get a new dryer to go along with the new refrigerator we’ll be getting once the festivals are over.
I just plan on trying to make it through today, really. Paul probably won’t be home until very late again tonight, and so I will inevitably end up in my chair to make a bed for Scooter, so I can use my cat-bed time to read and ice my toe and keep it elevated. It’s not nearly as swollen or painful as it was, and I did leave a message for my doctor yesterday to see if I should get it checked out; I thought about making an appointment but then decided to opt for the message route–mainly because the appointment times were really inconvenient, not soon, and so I figured meh, send a message through the app and see what happens. I hate being so indecisive, but what’s the point of seeing the doctor if I can’t get in to see him until next week? Worst case scenario is I haven’t heard back from him by tomorrow, at which point I’ll go ahead and take one of those appointments. I don’t feel like an emergency room is the best option–I could be there for hours, which I can’t afford to do right now–nor is an Urgent Care because they might need X-rays, and I don’t think you can get that done at an Urgent Care. And while it’s unpleasant, it’s certainly not still as unpleasant as it was when it first happened or while I was in Alabama, so at least it’s getting better? I don’t know, I am beginning to think maybe I am not handling this the right way. I don’t know. Adulting is hard.
Heavy heaving sigh.
I also am pretty confident that if I can get myself to start writing again, my world will settle back down and I’ll be able to get a better grasp on everything.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader.
My God, my email inbox is completely out of control.
At one point in mid-January and before February I had it almost emptied; there was blank space at the bottom of the inbox for more emails to be viewed but there weren’t any. It was a glorious feeling, frankly, for the few weeks it lasted before everything went off the rails. I suspect now that I can get through it all even faster than I did back in mid-January, but it’s sooooooo daunting.
Yesterday I swung by Home Depot to buy the fuse I need for the dryer, which they don’t keep in stock. The helpful man in the Appliance Accessories aisle told me of one place I may be able to find it in stock, and so I called them (and Lowe’s) from the parking lot and found that neither do, so I went ahead and ordered it on-line and it should be here Tuesday. The suspense, right? Will we need a new dryer, or will Greg somehow be able to repair the one they already have? There will undoubtedly be an update on this fascinating case on Wednesday; in which we either have a working dryer or have gone ahead and ordered a new one. Sigh. I also swung by the mail and the Fresh Market; I am going to have to actually venture into the grocery store at some point this weekend (Sunday morning most likely) because I also woke up to an email that my grocery order was canceled due to the system at the store being down this morning; it was originally postponed from yesterday to today, so I think the system has been having problems for a hot moment already; although I do suppose I could order them from the store on the West Bank, which means I could stop at Sonic on the way home and…it really takes so little to make me happy.
I finally booked my flights for San Diego Bouchercon! So my two trips for the year–Malice Domestic and Bouchercon–are all booked and ready for me to travel. I also need to do some more organizing and filing this morning, too–I also have to put the dishes away and do another load of laundry, and I really should work on cleaning up around here. My toe was worse yesterday than it’s been in a while, but this morning the swelling seems to have gone back down and while it’s still painful, it’s not throbbing the way it was last night, which was very painful. Adding message doctor tomorrow on medical app to the to-do list. We also watched two more episodes of Class last night, which differs from Elité enough to make it something new, but it’s funny how the personalities of the actors affect the characters. While many of the storylines are the same, the season of this Indian version is a few episodes shorter, so some of the emphasis on secondary storylines isn’t there as much as in the Spanish. But I want to finish it because Outer Banks’ third season dropped last night, and it looks completely insane and over-the-top, which is wild because the entire run of the show has been insane and over-the-top; I’m really glad it hasn’t been one of those Netflix shows that get orphaned after an amazing first season (so many I couldn’t even begin to name them all). So, today I think I am going to spend some time in my easy chair with my toe elevated and an icepack on it. I want to finish reading Body and Soul Food so I can move on to another book in the TBR pile–there are so damned many, Jesus Lord God–and I do want to keep my reading habit satisfied. I’m been struggling not to buy more books–it’s so damned tempting, especially when you have books out there by favorite authors just begging to be bought–and I also need to start writing thank you cards to everyone for their kindnesses these last few weeks.
And of course, there’s that horrible inbox. But if I start answering and saving my answers as drafts this weekend, I can maybe have the entire thing cleaned and cleared out by Monday afternoon? Perchance to dream….
And then of course I am very behind on writing everything I should be writing, but have had little to no desire to even look at anything these last few weeks. I’ve always felt writer’s block had more to do with depression than anything else; an endlessly revolving cycle in which you get depressed about not writing and then can’t and that renews the depression. I do think I need to start writing something for myself about Mom–if for no other reason than to keep the memories fresh–and I do think that could break the logjam in my brain and get me writing again.
And on that note, I am going to make some more coffee and repair to the chair with the icepack and the book. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again later.
Ash Wednesday and the party is over for another year. It feels a bit weird to have not gone to a single parade and have missed out on all the festivities, but I will always remember 2023 as the Carnival when Mom died.
I allowed myself to sleep in this morning. I’m still out of the office on leave, which is nice. I am getting better but am still a bit shaky, if truth be told, and so these extra days to kind of get my act together before going back to work are going to be a bit nice. I did manage to get some things done yesterday. I had a Facebook page takeover promo thing to do, which turned out to be a lot of fun–it was a very nice group, and I have to say, the cozy audience (writers and readers both) are amazing. They are welcoming and friendly and inclusive and supportive and I have to say, this entire experience has been really marvelous. While I was doing that I was cleaning out my inbox and working on filing and organizing. This morning the kitchen/office looks much better than it has since this whole business with Mom started; today I plan to do some more. I also need to make a minor grocery run (probably will go to Fresh Market today) and will order for pick-up on Friday to do the bigger stuff (mainly because they’ll have restocked after the Carnival madness by then). I also need to start working on the books again, and I still have that short story to write, and there’s of course all those emails in my inbox (yesterday I was just basically deleting the junk). I was still exhausted for the most part yesterday still, so focusing wasn’t easy, so I spent most of the day watching documentaries about history on Youtube and making Scooter happy by giving him a lap to sleep in. We also started watching Class last night on Netflix, which is basically an Indian remake of Elité, which makes it kind of fun. The actors are all young, pretty and talented; the show seems a bit less glossy and a lot grittier in this version–can an American version be far behind? (I suppose Gossip Girl would qualify, but it’s not in the same league and the reboot is terrible to the point of being embarrassing.) Class also moves faster than Elité; we discover the identity of the first season’s murder victim at the end of episode 2, whereas in Elité we didn’t know it was Marina until halfway through the season–I also think this version’s seasons are shorter. But it’s fun to watch, even though we know what’s going to happen, just seeing how they did the adaptation and how they had to change things because it’s now set in Delhi, India rather than Spain.
My toe is less swollen, less red, and less painful this morning as well. I am beginning to suspect it’s psoriatic arthritis, but I am going to send a message to my doctor about it through the phone app. I also need to buy more wrap for it; I don’t know where the wrap I bought before the trip disappeared to; I may have left it in the hotel room (note to self: never buy black tape again) since I can’t seem to put my hands on it around here. I can swing by CVS on the way to get the mail to buy more, but it’s not cheap and it’s very irritating to have lost the rest of the roll. Now, the toe is just annoying and irritating, but I need to get to the bottom of what happened to it in the first place.
It does feel weird and somewhat disrespectful to pick up the reins of my life again and start moving forward. What is an appropriate period for mourning in modern times? I don’t think I’ll ever stop mourning, to be honest; it’s just something else you have to learn to live with and never get over completely. I remind myself regularly that this isn’t unique to me–I am hardly the first person to lose their mother, nor am I the last–and that really, I was pretty lucky that I had my mom for sixty-two years and I still have my father. I am still processing this, and probably will for a while. It’s very weird that it takes something like this to give you clarity on a lot of things, or insights that should have been fairly obvious all along but never crossed my mind because there wasn’t a reason to even think about it; they just were, you know, and why question these things or think about them? It also forced me to look back at my life (which I don’t like to do, but have been doing more and more since I turned sixty and the realization that the sands in my hourglass are almost finished running through), and realize that sometimes it’s not necessarily a bad thing to look back. The interest in the past that I’ve always had but never extended to my own has now been triggered, and I suspect more and more of my future work is going to be somehow tied to the past–either being set there or things in the past are affecting things in the present. I also need to assess where I am with regards to my plans for the year; I didn’t really have plans–more of an amorphous this is what I’d like to write for this year thing than anything else–especially since I never really make writing plans because they inevitably are changed or have to change and I am very resistant to change (not sure why that is, my entire life has always been about changing), but I do have a vague idea of how I want the rest of the year to play out writing-wise. I also have to start being more restrictive of my traveling because I am going to start needing to go to Kentucky more often every year (yay for audiobooks!) or at least meeting my dad in Alabama to visit Mom (Alabama is much easier than Kentucky for me, obviously).
So, today is catch-up day; finishing laundry and dishes and chores, running errands, organizing and filing, maybe doing some reading (I am really enjoying One Night Gone by Tara Laskowski), and I also need to start trying to figure out how to fix the dryer, or if I even can. Paul was kind of adamant about not buying a new one at first, but as this has gone on for weeks (I’ve been gone the last three weekends) he is getting more and more resigning to buying a new one. So on the to-do list I am going to update after I post this will go figure out if I can fix the dryer myself. I don’t have to work in the office on Friday, but I do need to swing by there to pick up some more work, and there’s a Lowe’s out by the office I can swing by the see if they have the fuse I may need (I may just need to unplug it and vacuum out the lint thing; it’s the simplest solution and definitely worth a try). I also need to order a Bluetooth keyboard for the laptop; the one I am using now is battery operated and of course, the batteries are always dead when I need to use it, so I need to get one that is rechargeable.
But I feel good and rested and at peace this morning, so I am going to focus on that and get moving. Have a lovely rest of your day, Constant Reader, and I will check in which you again later.
And here we are, on the final day of the year 2022. Happy New Year, I guess? It doesn’t feel like the year is turning, but everything has felt so totally out of whack since the 2020 Shutdown that it’s not a surprise, really. As I sit here bleary-eyed with my coffee trying to wake up for another thrilling day of writing and cleaning, it seems very weird to look back to a year ago at this time. I was on deadline then, too–and was way behind on that book, too (A Streetcar Named Murder, for the record), but other than that I don’t remember what my mood was like or what I was thinking about going into the new year. We were still in the midst of the pandemic (that hasn’t changed–what’s changed is it isn’t news anymore and everyone seems to be pretending it’s all over), and I know I wasn’t exactly going into 2022 thinking oh this is the year I’ll get the coronavirus! That did happen, and my ten-day experience with COVID-19 was bearable for the most part. I just had intense and severe exhaustion as well as the brain fog, which hasn’t entirely lifted. I still have no short term memory, and am struggling to remember things every day–which has made writing this book more difficult because I can’t remember small details and things that are kind of important. I also think being so scattered isn’t much help in that regard; I’ve never been able to handle getting a grip on things and have felt like I’ve been behind the eight-ball for the last three years, floundering and struggling to keep my head above water, and never confident that I had a handle on everything. It’s been unpleasant, really; I prefer to be better organized and to have things under some sort of manageable control, and this constant feeling that I am behind and will never catch up on everything has been overwhelming, depressing, and damaging.
I read a lot of great books this year–I was going to try to make a “favorite reads of the year” list, but as I went back through the blog for the last year looking at all the books I talked about on here, there’s no real way for me to quantify what were my avorite reads of the year. I managed to read both of Wanda M. Morris’ marvelous novels, All Her Little Secrets and Anywhere You Run; Marco Carocari’s marvelous Blackout; John Copenhaver’s The Savage Kind; Carol Goodman’s The Night Villa, The Lake of Dead Languages, and The Disinvited Guest; Ruth Ware’s The Death of Mrs. Westaway and The Woman in Cabin Ten; Raquel V. Reyes’ Mango, Mambo and Murder; Ellen Byron’s Bayou Book Thief; Rob Osler’s debut Devil’s Chew Toy; Mia P. Manansala’s Arsenic and Adobo; Kellye Garrett’s Like a Sister; Alex Segura Jr’s Secret Identity; Laurie R. King’s Back to the Garden; Tara Laskowski’s marvelous The Mother Next Door; James Kestrel’s Five Decembers (which would be a contender for favorite read of the year, if I did such things); and of course several Donna Andrews novels as well. I am forgetting some great reads I truly enjoyed this past year, I am sure–I will kick myself later for not remembering I Play One on TV by Alan Orloff, for one example–but it was a year of great reads for me. I know 2023 will also be a great year for reading.
I also watched a lot of great television this past year as well, and again, I won’t be remembering everything and will kick myself later. If nothing else, it was a year of some amazing queer representation on television; this was, after all, the year Netflix not only gave us the wonderful, amazing, adorable Heartstopper but the equally charming and adorable Smiley (which you should watch, absolutely). It was also the year where Elité continued, but the shine is starting to go off the show a bit. I was very vested in their Patrick/Ivan romance, which they ended in this last season with Manu Rios, who plays Patrick, leaving the show at the end of the season along with his two sisters (spoiler, sorry), which was dissatisfying. I am looking forward to seeing what else Manu Rios gets up to in the future…we also enjoyed 1899, Andor, Ted Lasso, Sex Lives of College Girls, Peacemaker, The Sandman, House of the Dragon, Ozark, and so many other shows I can’t possibly begin to remember them all this morning. But I have no problem saying that without question my favorite show of the year was Heartstopper. Even just looking at clips on Youtube, or those “Ten Cutest Moments on Heartstopper” videos, always makes me feel warm and fuzzy when I view them. The soundtrack for the show was also terrific, with some songs so firmly engrained in my head with scenes from the show (one in particular, Shura’s “What’s It Gonna Be” always makes me think of that scene where Charlie comes running after Nick in the rain to give him another kiss, which is what was playing in the background). Wednesday was another highlight, a surprising delight when I was prepared to have my hopes dashed, and The Serpent Queen was also a lot of fun. We also enjoyed The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself, but it was cancelled after its first season, which was disappointing.
Professionally, it was a pretty good year in which I had three book releases: #shedeservedit in January and A Streetcar Named Murder in December, with the anthology Land of 10000 Thrills, thrown in for good measure in the fall. I sold some short stories that haven’t come out yet, as well as some that did this last year: “The Rosary of Broken Promises,” “A Whisper from the Graveyard,””The Snow Globe,” and “This Thing of Darkness” all came out in anthologies this year, with “Solace in a Dying Hour” sold and probably coming out sometime in the spring. I also sold another story to another anthology that will probably come out in the new year as well, and I still have one out on submission. In what was probably the biggest surprise of the year, last year’s Bury Me in Shadows was nominated for not one, but TWO Anthony Awards (Best Paperback Original and Best Children’s/Young Adult) which was one of the biggest shocks of maybe not just the year, but definitely one of the highlights of my career thus far. I lost both to friends and enormously talented writers Jess Lourey and Alan Orloff respectively, which was kind of lovely. I had been nominated for Anthonys before (winning Best Anthology for Blood on the Bayou and “Cold Beer No Flies” was nominated for Best Short Story), but being nominated for one of my queer novels was such a thrill–and to have it nominated in two different categories was fucking lit, as the kids would say. The response to A Streetcar Named Murder was an incredibly pleasant surprise; people seemed to genuinely love the book, which was very exciting and cool.
I traveled quite a bit this year as well–going to Murder in the Magic City/Murder on the Menu, Left Coast Crime, the Edgars, Sleuthfest, and Bouchercon. I went to Kentucky twice to see my family, which further fueled my love of audiobooks for long drives–on both trips I listened to Ruth Ware on the way up and Carol Goodman on the way back–and also did some wonderful podcasts and panels on-line, which was nice. We didn’t go to any games this season in Baton Rouge, but in all honesty I don’t know if I can hang with a game day anymore–the drive there and back, the walk to and from the stadium, the game itself–I would probably need a week’s vacation afterwards!
College football was interesting this season, too. This season saw the reemergence of Tennessee, USC, and UCLA to some kind of relevance again; the slides of the programs at Texas A&M, Florida, Oklahoma, Auburn, and Texas continued; and LSU turned out to be the biggest surprise (for me) of the year. Going into the season I had hopes, as one always does, but after two years of consistent mediocrity (with some surprise wins both years) they weren’t very high. The opening loss to Florida State was a surprise and disappointment, but at least the Tigers came back and almost made it all the way to a win. The blowout loss to Tennessee at home was unpleasant, certainly, as was the loss at Texas A&M. But LSU beat Alabama this season! We also beat Mississippi, so LSU was 2-2 against Top Ten teams this season–and I would have thought it would be 0-4. And 9-4 is not a bad record for a transitional year, with a new coach rebuilding the program. And LSU beat Alabama. The Alabama game will undoubtedly go down as one of the greatest Saturday night games in Tiger Stadium. It was incredibly exciting, and I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it or how it happened. It certainly shouldn’t have; LSU was simply not an elite-level team this past season, but what a job Brian Kelly did coaching in his first season in Baton Rouge. Did I mention that LSU beat Alabama this year? (And one really has to feel for Alabama, in a way; they lost two games by a total of four points on the last play of each game. Four. Points. That would probably be what I would call this season for Alabama: Four Points from Greatness. The LSU-Alabama game this year is definitely one of those that gets a nickname from the fan base, I am just not sure what it would be. The Double Earthquake Game? (The cheers when LSU scored in overtime and then made the two point conversion registered on the campus Richter scale) The Conversion Game? I don’t know what it will be named for all eternity, but it was an amazing game. I do think it also bodes well for the future for LSU. Will both LSU and Tennessee (which also beat Alabama for the first time in like fifteen years) be able to consistently compete with Alabama now? Has Georgia taken over as the SEC behemoth? Has the Alabama run ended? I don’t think so–they have an off year where they lose two or three games periodically (2010, 2019, 2022)–and they could bounce right back. next year and win it all again. You can never count them out, even in their off years.
As for the Saints, they swept Atlanta again this year, and that is enough for me.
I did write a lot this year, even though it didn’t seem like I actually did while the year was passing. I also worked on Chlorine and another project I am working on throughout the year, as well as the novellas, and of course, I was writing short stories and essays for much of the year. I also read a lot more New Orleans and Louisiana history, and I had tons of ideas for things to write all year long. I did make it to the gym on a fairly regular basis at the beginning of the year, but then it became more and more sporadic and after my COVID-19 experience, never again. I also injured my arm a few weeks ago–when I flex the bicep it feels like I have a Charley horse, so not good, but it doesn’t impact my day to day activities. I also had my colonoscopy at last this past year–the prep was horrific, and I am really dreading doing it again at sixty-five, should I make it that far.
Yesterday was a nice day. I was exhausted, and after my work-at-home duties were completed I did some chores–laundry, dishes–and I also spent some time both reading (A Walk on the Wild Side) and writing. I also watched the Clemson-Tennessee Orange Bowl last night before Paul got home from his dinner engagement and we watched a few more episodes of Sex Lives of College Girls. Today I am going to read a bit this morning with my coffee before getting cleaned up and diving headfirst back into the book. Paul has his trainer today and usually either goes to the gym to ride the bike or to his office to work for the rest of the afternoon, so I should be able to have some uninterrupted writing time, which will be lovely. And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a happy and safe New Year’s Eve, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you later.
Monday morning and all is well in the Lost Apartment as I swill coffee and brace myself for the day (and week) ahead.
I returned from Kentucky on Friday. Both the voyage up and back–despite their great length and the brittle stiffness of my aging body–didn’t seem quite so bad or to take as long as they usually do. I did make great time in both directions, while listening to two audiobooks (Ruth Ware’s The Woman in Cabin 10 on the way up, Carol Goodman’s The Disinvited Guest on the way back; both are superb and highly recommended) but of course once I got home on Friday night I was quite exhausted. I spent Saturday trying to get caught up on the apartment itself while football games played in the background (more on that later). I did a lot of laundry, a lot of dishes, ran errands and made groceries, before finally settling in to watch the LSU/Texas A&M game, which was disappointing (more on that later). Yesterday I got up early (I’ve been getting up early a lot lately) and chose to stay off-line for the most part. I did clean out the junk out of my inbox, wrote up the books I read while on my trip for blog entries, and wrote another blatant self-promotion post for A Streetcar Named Murder while also trying to get a handle on everything I need to get done for this coming week. I felt very well-rested yesterday at long last. I didn’t have as much trouble sleeping while I was away as I usually do, which was cool–I found another sleep-aid that seems to be working very nicely–but Friday night I didn’t sleep as well as I thought I would, given how worn out I was from the drive. Saturday night’s sleep, however, was quite marvelous.
Ah, the Insomnia Chronicles. How I long for the day when my sleep isn’t of concern (or at least as not as much interest) to me.
The weather was also kind of terrible when I got back–raining and humid, but cool; the kind where you aren’t sure if you need to turn on the heat or the air, and yesterday there were tornadoes and high winds in the river and bayou parishes outside of New Orleans. Yesterday however was beautiful; sunny with blue skies with the low in the mid-sixties and the high in the mid-seventies. Not bad for Christmas season, is it? It’s also hard to wrap my mind around the idea that it’s Christmas already, to be honest. I got a great Kindle deal on a collection of Christmas crime short stories, which I am really looking forward to digging into–perhaps a story a day for the season? The Christmas Murder Mystery project? (You know I love me some projects to work on.) It’s also weird that it’s the holiday season again, which means Carnival is also right around the block. YIKES. This also means I need to start planning around the parade schedule and when I need to leave work and so forth. Ugh, much as I love Carnival, it’s always stressful and exhausting, if fun and delightful.
It was an interesting weekend of college football. The Mississippi-Mississippi State game on Thanksgiving was a lot of fun, right up to its crazy end; South Carolina somehow managed to beat Clemson; and of course, Michigan blew out Ohio State in Columbus. This kind of set the stage for the LSU game on Saturday night–I had a very queasy feeling about the game, partly because it seemed as though everyone was looking ahead to next week’s SEC title game with Georgia and the possibility of a play-off berth for the Tigers; but Texas A&M always plays LSU hard, no matter how bad their record is, and for some reason they’ve decided LSU is their big rivalry in the conference. The game looked awful; LSU was playing very sloppy on both sides of the ball and my heart and spirit continued to flag with each missed tackle and each missed opportunity. It was disappointing, to be sure, but on the other hand, I am thrilled to death with how the season went. No one gave LSU a shot at having a winning record, let alone beating Alabama and winning the West division, so I am choosing to be grateful for a wonderful winning season after two seasons of mediocrity and looking forward to an even better, more glittering future for the Tigers. I have faith in Coach Kelly, I have faith in what he is building there, and who knows? In a year or two we may win it all again. GEAUX TIGERS!
In other blatant self-promotional news, I also appeared recently on Alexia Gordon’s The Cozy Corner, which was a lot of fun, and I also appeared on Dru’s Book Musing, and how lovely that she gave me such a wonderful view. Thanks to both Dru and Alexia, both being lovely people who have gone out of their way to be kind to me and A Streetcar Named Murder, for which I will always be eternally grateful. It’s hard to believe the book is going to be published soon! And don’t worry, there will be plenty more blatant self-promotion to come.
PLENTY.
I also spent some good time with the book yesterday and it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it might be, as I feared it would be. Yes, the first half needs some work, but not nearly as much as I had thought and I also went through and made a character list as well as outlined the first half. Tomorrow I am going to work on the edits and finishing the outline for the rest of the book; and I am also going to write in and ask for more time. I never finish on time, do I? But the book is good, there’s lots of material for the second half, and I am kind of excited about getting this one completely under control at long last. Huzzah!
We also binged 1899 yesterday; it’s from the same people who did the superlative German series Dark, and had the added bonus of having one of our favorite actors from Elité, Miguel Bernardeau, in the cast as well. It’s delightfully creepy and strange, and you never have a very good sense of what is going on (like Dark), so of course we were glued to the set the entire time. It’s quite good, actually; I’m not sure how I feel yet about the final episode other than curiosity about how that is going to lead into a second season–because the finale raised more questions than it answered (like a good finale), but I’ll be happy to continue watching.
I feel rested this morning, though, which is lovely. I am sure by the middle of the week I’ll be tired and short of temper again, but for now, for this morning, I am going to just enjoy myself feeling rested and relaxed in the meantime. I have, as always, an insane amount of work to get done this week, but right now I am going to enjoy the peace and quiet of this morning before I have to start getting ready to leave for work; I even got up earlier than I usually do on Mondays.
And on that note, I am heading headfirst into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday morning, Constant Reader, and I’ll chat at you again tomorrow morning.
Queer and Loathing in America 