Tag: fiction

Smokin’

Pay the Bills Wednesday has somehow rolled around again, and yes, there are bills to pay and errands to run and all of that fun stuff for me after work this evening. It was cold again yesterday, but this time I was smarter and wore layers. I don’t think it was as cold in the office yesterday as it was Monday…but again, that could have simply been layers. It’s also not as cold this morning as it has been, and I am wondering if I should do the layer thing again today anyway; the office has been horrifically cold this week for some reason. A quick check of the weather app on ye olde phone and no, it isn’t going to be in the forties. I slept well last night, so I feel very rested and awake this morning–a pleasant surprise, actually. I came straight home from work yesterday, and of course, had to play with and cuddle with Sparky, as he won’t be denied. I got caught up on the horrible news before watching another episode of Run Away, a particularly twisty show we are enjoying, despite the annoying male main character’s toxicity, and then it was off to bed for me.

I also managed to get my latest newsletter (which you can read by clicking here if you so desire: America America), which is about my passion for US History and watching the Ken Burns documentary, The American Revolution, which I watched last month and enjoyed. I also found it timely–it reminded me and its viewers of the noble principles of freedom and liberty from oppressive government with which this country was founded–in spite of its legacy of enslavement and genocide, we’ve never really achieved the democratic utopia the founders envisioned (because of the enslavement and genocide)–and whatever this is that we’re living through is about as far from that utopian (for white men) ideal as we ever have been. The so-called “melting pot” theory of the United States has always been kind of bullshit, hasn’t it? The nation of immigrants that slams the door shut on immigration? Just horrific.

Scott Adams, the sad tragic piece of shit who blew up his successful career in comic strips by being very publicly an asshole and turning off the majority of his readers, died this week from prostate cancer. However, as a true MAGA believer he of course distrusted medicine and used quack medicine from quacks to treat it, only for it to not work and to start proper treatment too late: a suicide by stupidity, if you will. The only reason I mention this is his death triggered a post on social media by Kevin M. Kruse, noted US historian, reminding us all of Bill Amend and Foxtrot, a strip I used to absolutely love but had forgotten about, so I subscribed to get his weekly Sunday strip. Huzzah! (Adams, a bottom-feeding scavenging scum piece of shit, also converted–in theory, anyway–to Christianity to save himself from the flames of hell…which is the thing about Christianity that is so bogus to me. You can live your life as the most hateful asshole on the planet, convert on your deathbed and still go to heaven? While someone else, who spends their entire life doing for others and helping people, will go to hell because they didn’t convert? Fuck that shit.)

Which again begs the question: which Christian franchise is the real one? Sigh.

But over all, it’s been a pretty good week overall, as we head into yet another three day weekend.

Erich von Daniken also died recently, which was kind of weird; I was surprised he had only just now passed, to be honest. I have been outlining an essay around the subject of weird takes and lore, beginning with Chariots of the Gods and going on to the Bermuda Triangle and numerous other strange books about strange theories or occurrences that I read a lot about when I was growing up and how those weird books–many of which I didn’t really buy into because of the poor scholarship and lack of actual evidence. But they were interesting ideas and theories that triggered my imagination and anything that does that is worth reading.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I’ll be back tomorrow!

There Stands the Glass

Sunday, and the last day of this rather lengthy weekend I was blessed with this year. I didn’t do the things I had hoped to do yesterday morning when I was drinking coffee and being hopeful, but before I knew it, it was nearly noon and I decided to go ahead and get the new television set up, while learning to use it. I also slept in this morning, despite Sparky’s best efforts, despite planning on getting up much earlier that I actually did. No sense crying over spilt milk, though, is there? I do feel good this morning, and that’s always nice. My coffee is tasting marvelous, and yes, I have some chores to get done, especially the kitchen–don’t ask–so I will try to get that done while I work on writing.

It took me a while to get the television put together and up on the mantel, which was no small feet since it was just me and it is a 65″ television. But I didn’t want to wait for Paul, and I did get it all set up; it’s a “smart television,” which concerned me at first as I was certain I wasn’t smart enough to set it up…but I managed somehow. It was just a little time-consuming as the software needed an update, and so forth and so on, but by around two-thirty-ish it was operational and I felt comfortable using it, and its remote. And Constant Reader, it is enormous. The picture quality is so sharp, it seems like people are in the living room for me to watch. It also takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to its sheer size…but it will make science fiction shows look amazing (I watched the opening of The Force Awakens just to see, and wow!), and the Winter Olympics…yeah, I would have never thought about getting a new television, but I am very glad we did. I watched the LSU game last night on it–I see this morning they lost; I was falling asleep so went to bed after halftime–and the picture quality! Yes, I am very pleased we got a new television. I think the old one was almost ten years old? Practically archaic in technology terms, right?

When I think about the changes in technology I’ve seen during my lifetime…it really makes me feel old. I’ve seen too much! I was thinking about this last night–triggered, no doubt, by my delight in the new “smart” television–and how limited we used to be with entertainment options. If you didn’t see a movie when it came out, you had to catch it when it went to television (remember network television premieres?) and hope it wasn’t butchered by television censors (see Cabaret as a prime example) too badly. Even the advent of cable didn’t change things that much; we were still tied to when things aired. It was the same with books. It never occurred to me, ever, that if they didn’t have a book I wanted in the store I could just order it. (It wasn’t terrible; I inevitably spent over a hundred dollars every time I went into a bookstore.)

I didn’t read anything yesterday; I don’t know why, but after setting up the television and taking all the packaging (so much packaging!) out to the trash, I was revisited by the malaise. I watched a lot of videos on Youtube (fall of Rome; the Ptolemaic dynasty in Egypt, etc.) while not really doing much of anything other than free form writing in my journal. I was also trying to remember things I enjoyed in 2025 in order to do a year-end summary; the memory isn’t what it used to be…but the biggest thing was finally finding out what’s been wrong with me for so long and finally getting it treated. It’s been a journey, hasn’t it? And one I didn’t even know I was on until this past spring when I got so sick and had to be hospitalized. The six days in the hospital was a hard reset that enabled me to catch my breath and think some more about everything, remembering that only I can make changes to my life that I need to make and the only way to do so is decide what changes to make and how to go about making those changes. It was also a kind of wake-up call, a reminder that I don’t have as much time left on this planet as perhaps I might want. So…maybe the year end round up might be more philosophical? We shall see.

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

Old Town Road

So this is Christmas! Hope everyone has the kind of day they desire; as for me, I am staying inside all day and being a lazy slug, which is exactly what I did yesterday, and it was absolutely marvelous. I didn’t even read anything; I wanted my brain turned off completely and didn’t even want to think about anything or everything. It was nice. I feel really rested and relaxed this morning…Sparky started demanding I get up about six, but he’s actually sweet about it. He’ll try for a bit, and when I don’t get up he’ll cuddle for a bit, but every time I move, he’ll try again for a little while before going back to being cuddly. I don’t have the heart to tell him that his being cuddly makes me want to stay in bed all the more…

Cats are marvelous pets, really.

We got very heavily into our binge of Down Cemetery Road, which we are really enjoying. I’m going to have to read the book it was based on, written by Mick Herron–someone I’ve not read yet but is really recommended by almost everyone I know who has read his work. Emma Thompson is terrific, and I hope this gets another season; there are four books in total about Zoë Boehm. She’s going to be a favorite at the Emmys, deservedly so. I also started watching the 1995 Canadian Hardy Boys series, but turned it off after five minutes because it was terrible; the Hardy Boys/juvenile series groups I belong to despise the show, but I wanted to give it a shot, as they tend to not like anything that is even slightly different from the books…but in this instance, they were absolutely correct. I then started a German/South African adaptation of another juvenile series I enjoyed, The Three Investigators and the Secret of Terror Castle, which has a very young Cameron Monaghan playing Bob Andrews, but I didn’t finish it, either–despite a very strong start, I was too fidgety yet to commit to watching anything other than Youtube videos until Paul got home from having his hair colored.

A most exciting Christmas Eve, was it not?

I also did some chores–laundry, dishes, the kitchen–but for the most part, it was exactly the kind of day I wanted and needed, and here’s hoping that today will be the same. I won’t start making the turkey in the slow cooker until noonish, so we can have it for dinner tonight as we finish watching Down Cemetery Road. I’ll probably start making notes for my end of 2025 recap soon, too.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close. Have a wonderful day, no matter how you spend it or what you do with it, Constant Reader, and as always, thank you for stopping by!

At a glance this guy reminds me of Pete Buttigieg.

He’ll Have to Go

A gray Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, with a lot of things to do this morning. I have some errands to run, some food to prepare, and proofing to do today before I rest my sleepy little head in my bed this evening. Sparky wasn’t having my “let me sleep” mentality this morning, but he didn’t get aggressively insistent until about seven, so it was fine. I feel pretty well rested this morning, too, which is very nice. Yesterday was a nice day. I didn’t get nearly as much done as I should have, but I don’t care nor do I mind. I did have the games on for most of the day, but not really watching. Texas Tech throttled BYU, and then Georgia embarrassed Alabama, which I did watch. I didn’t watch either of the evening games, but was delighted for Indiana and Duke. I don’t think anyone see either of them winning ahead of those games, and what lovely chaos yesterday’s results unleashed on the college football playoffs, and there will be lots of anger and arguments once the teams who made it are announced this Tuesday. Since LSU is out of it, I’d love to see either Indiana or Vanderbilt win it all…but Vanderbilt probably isn’t getting in. I don’t know how much attention I am going to pay to the playoffs to begin with–I didn’t watch hardly any of it last year.

We also got caught up on Heated Rivalry–I hadn’t known it wasn’t all available yet until last night–and I am reserving my commentary until we’ve finished watching the entire thing. I’m enjoying the ride thus far, and that’s saying something–Paul is loving it. I’m not a hockey fan, so that aspect of the show isn’t resonating with me. (My first major crush in high school was a hockey player; I should write about that someday, although I have numerous times in fiction.) The show is stirring up shit on social media, though–some of the criticisms the show is getting is wild. My personal favorite is “hockey players don’t look that hot”–yes, their faces were be beaten up a bit more and they’d be missing some teeth, for sure–but seriously, why is it so hard for people to grasp the concept that it’s a romance? Romances, film or television or book or short story, aren’t accurate depictions of anyone’s reality. I don’t know why it is so hard for people to grasp that (although, in fairness, I am guilty of it myself from time to time) important, salient fact–and that ignorance is often masked in condescension; which is highly ironic. Condescending to (and about) a genre that you don’t understand is hardly a sign of your intellectual superiority. All genres deserve respect from writers outside of that genre, period. You’re not writing The Great Gatsby1 yourself, asshole.

I also finished going through my journals looking for notes on Chlorine during the Alabama-Georgia game, which was a lot of fun. It also made me realize there’s really no need for me to keep my papers and try to donate them to an archive (Tulane’s library was interested for one of their special collections almost two decades ago, but I never bothered getting around to it because I really didn’t care that much); all they really need or would want would be my back-up hard drive and my journals. It was kind of fun going through them, and I should more often because there’s a lot of good stuff in there about plotting and character and editing ideas and so forth. There’s also a lot of good ideas and fragments in there, too. I started keeping a journal in the mid-90s, and kind of got away from that at some point after moving to New Orleans. I started up again on New Year’s, I think in 2016. Paul and I had our annual lunch at Commander’s Palace with Jean and Gillian, and on the way back to the car afterward we stopped at Garden District Bookshop specifically for me to buy a journal so I could start keeping one again. I have been pretty consistent ever since then, and they are a fun record to revisit periodically. (I have my old ones around here somewhere, but I can never remember where they are.) It also gave me the answer to a question that has puzzled and confused other authors almost as long as I have been publishing: how do you write so fast? I don’t write fast, I type fast. Books and stories have existed in the corners of my mind for years in some cases before I actually write them, and have made notes and developed characters and titles and plots over many years before I organize them all and sit down to actually write the book. I don’t execute a novel from idea to characters to plot to write the whole thing in three months or so; I spend three months organizing it all while typing it all out–and in some cases, I’ve even started one before getting stuck and putting it to the side. In most cases, I am finishing a book in three months. (I have several novels on hand that are in some stage of completion, and I don’t even want to know how many novellas, short stories, and essays there are in the files.) They were started and thought out a long time before I actually write them.

Today’s goals are to get my bills caught up on paid for, running my errands, and proofing the typeset pages of the new book. I am making chicken white bean chili today (which should be delicious), and want to get some filing and organizing done. I am also going to gather all the Chlorine notes scanned in to the computer so I can start organizing them and working on the book. I also realized yesterday, as I selected and picked out the “noir” I’m going to try to read this month (through Twelfth Night, for the record) and realized that what I have considered to be noir all these years…well, I was incorrect; I was conflating hard-boiled with noir, and while they are very close to being the same and have things in common, there are more than enough differences to be entirely separate sub-genres. A book doesn’t even have to be a crime novel to be noir. Maybe it’s something I should write about for the newsletter, you know?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines on this gray, chilly day. It did rain for most of the day yesterday, which made for a very cozy day in my easy chair with Sparky in my lap and a blanket. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

As you can see, I have unlocked my Christmas hunk folder for the year.
  1. I used this book–which I loathe–as an example, because it’s often considered one of the great American novels. ↩︎

All You Ever Do Is Put Me Down

Tuesday morning and I didn’t spring out of bed joyously this morning, but I feel pretty okay this morning. I slept well, just wanted to sleep longer. It rained heavily last night, which was nice–you know I love me some rain when I am safely inside and warm and comfortable. The rain was supposed to bring cold weather with it, but it’s only 51 this morning, which isn’t that terrible. My whole attitude towards cold weather is changing, isn’t it? I didn’t mind the cold in Kentucky–it was bitterly cold on Thanksgiving; my windshield froze over while I was at my sister’s–so what on earth is happening to me? #madness, indeed. Granted, it wasn’t at zero or even close to it; that, methinks, would be an entirely different story.

I did find my copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice last night, and that opening line–“They threw me off the hay truck about noon”–is such a great opening. I think the other noirs I am going to read this month will include The Falling Sparrow by Dorothy B. Hughes1, another Jim Thompson novel (I have several on-hand), a Silvia Moreno-Garcia modern neo-noir, and maybe some short stories, and/or a Cornell Woolrich novel. The well (or TBR pile, you choose) is very deep in the Lost Apartment. I also have to write my reviews of O Jerusalem and Fever Beach for the newsletter, too. Sigh. So much to write, so little time in which to do it all, y’know? But that just means I need to go back to my OCD organization and to-do lists so I can get things done.

I also managed to go over the edits and copy edits of Hurricane Season Hustle, so it is finished for me other than the page proofs. I also got a short story I sent to an anthology a few months ago back with its edits, which is also kind of cool. I always love to sell a short story, you know? I am more confident with my novels than I ever can be with my short stories, and I was thinking last night as I sat in my chair watching The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City that I may try something different when it comes to writing short stories, but I’ll inevitably always fall back on my usual way of doing things. I think we’re going to be busy in the clinic this morning, which will keep me hopping all day. I have to stop again at the store to make some groceries on my way home tonight, and the kitchen is a mess, and I have another load of dishes to unload so I can wash the ones in the sink and run the dishwasher again and the household chores never end, do they? I have measured my life by washing dishes, or something like that.

I was able to leave work early yesterday (Friday was a paid holiday for eight hours; I usually put in about four on a normal work-at-home Friday, so had to shave some time off yesterday. No, I never over-explain, do I?), and so ran by the Fresh Market on the way home and also ordered groceries for delivery. I got home and finished the laundry, put the dishes away and ran another load through the dishwasher. I got caught up on the news and have reached the point where I just shake my head in bewilderment, sadness, and disgust. Heavy heaving sigh. Is there now a light at the the end of the tunnel of horrors? One can only hope, but this dismantling of our institutions and eroding of trust in them has been –and continues to be–nothing more than a disgrace.

Our new LSU football coach, Lane Kiffin, arrived in Baton Rouge yesterday to a cheering crowd at the airport and people lined up along the drive from there to the campus. Controversy about the move continues to swirl, driven by the so-called “talking heads” who know absolutely nothing but somehow think they’re relevant? Dad and I talked about how useless and stupid so many of them are nowadays–“professional bull-shitters,” is what Dad calls them, and accurately–but they have to talk and weave and bullshit in order to earn their ridiculous salaries. I don’t care what you think about this, just as I don’t really care about anything you think, really. And all the unctuous moralizing by trash like Stephen A. Smith and Colin Cowshit and all the rest of the idiots? Spare me. All you are doing is enhancing the victim complex LSU fans and Louisiana residents already have, and they’ll just circle the wagons and it just endears Kiffin to the fans and residents here all the more. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s buddies with Coach O, either. They are billboards and signs all over the state welcoming him.

I do not remember any of that happening for Brian Kelly, mind you.

So, we’ll see how this new era of LSU football will work out for us. Everyone here is excited, as I said, and I am optimistically hopeful but cautious.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this fine Tuesday morning. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday tomorrow morning.

Pharaoh Thutmose III, successor to the female pharaoh Hatshepsut
  1. Also a book with a fantastic first line. ↩︎

Maybe It Was Memphis

Maybe it wasn’t?

Sunday here in the Lost Apartment, and all is well. LSU won, 13-10, not a particularly impressive showing. (Tulane also won, GO WAVE!) The games yesterday weren’t exciting or interesting, so after Paul got up we alternated between games and other things (more on that later). It was a very nice relaxing day, over all. I did run some errands in the morning, but after I got home that was it; no more outside for me this weekend. It was actually in the 80s yesterday, too. I didn’t do much cleaning around here yesterday, either, and the kitchen is a total mess (because I made Shrimp Creole last night for dinner) which I will need to clean up at some point this morning. I also didn’t read much yesterday, either; something I need to rectify this morning. I mean, it is a real messy mess. Yikes.

I dropped off four boxes of books to the library sale yesterday morning, and yes, this pruning of the books had helped de-clutter the living room, and I also came across some books I’d forgotten that I had–juvenile mysteries, amongst other things–which was also kind of cool. I’m planning to do another round of pruning once I get back from the trip (but probably not next weekend; I’m going to spend Sunday recovering from the drive); progress! I also want to start working on the storage attic. I know, the non-stop rollercoaster thrill ride of my life is almost too much to read about, isn’t it?

But I came across copies from a juvenile series, Ken Holt, that I really loved when I was a kid (still one of my favorites; it’s a toss-up between this series and The Three Investigators) and while paging through one of the copies (The Secret of Hangman’s Inn) I remembered how incredibly homoerotic the series was, particularly the relationship between Ken and his best friend, Sandy Allen–they are often around each other in varying stages of undress, including nude, for one example–and often share rooms and beds. There’s definitely an essay for the newsletter about this series, its homoeroticism, and how well the books are actually written. They all have a hard-boiled, noir-ish aesthetic that I loved. They were shot at with real ammunition, had to outwit and out think criminals, and since they were journalists (despite being so young) Ken’s write-ups of their cases and Sandy’s photos often went into syndication. Not bad for a pair of eighteen-year-olds! I also think this series is why I kind of wanted to be a journalist when I first went to college–but that is also a story for another time.

I didn’t write anything on the computer yesterday, but I did spend a lot of time writing in my journal. I also went back and reread my current one from the start, picking up on notes and ideas and thoughts about several things I am working on. I came across some excellent notes for Chlorine, for example, and as I reread my notes (just from this journal) I recognized something–part of the problem I am having with writing further into the book is base premise that starts the book doesn’t really work or make sense; the stakes aren’t high enough for my main character to get involved to begin with, and so I have to amp them up, kill my darlings, and maybe start over. I get very stubborn about throwing stuff out that I’ve already written, but those chapters are salvageable, kind of; I may be able to use the bits and pieces, but I am going to dive into it, headfirst, in December with the goal of getting a first draft finished by the end of the year. Stubbornness about your work is not a good quality for an author to have.

I also got my contributor copy of Celluloid Crimes, which ironically has the short story I adapted from Chlorine’s first chapter, “The Last To See Him Alive,” which is still a good story and I do love that title an awful lot. It’s always nice to see your work in actual print in a book, you know?

Around the games we watched some of the skating from Cup of Finland, this week’s season finale of The Morning Show, and a lot of the news shows. I am still processing the Friday news; the bromance in the Oval with FOTUS basically rolling over on his back and showing Zohran Mamdani his belly, and it may take me a while longer to wrap my head around the devolution of the MAGA movement into fascism and Nazism with the embrace of Nick Fuentes, the gay Latino Nazi, which makes no sense to me but I’ve never understood people who lick the boots on their own throats.

I am also really enjoying Ken Burns’ The American Revolution, which at least is honest and doesn’t really get into any of the weird national mythology we’ve built up around our history–basically to erase any wrong-doing and eradicate any questioning of the endless justifications for stealing an entire continent from its inhabitants. The Americas weren’t discovered and colonized; they were actually conquered, in a mass genocide that lasted centuries. US History and the American Revolution were actually my gateways into my lifelong obsession and interest in history; watching this series is reminding me of how I went from US History to English history to European history, with some dabbling in the ancients (Egypt, Greece, Rome); I really should have majored in History, the primary problem being picking a particular period to specialize in. As I said the other day, I should have majored in History with a minor in creative writing, and I could have become a historian like Barbara Tuchman; her A Distant Mirror remains one of my favorite histories and served as an inspiration for my idea to write a popular history of the sixteenth by focusing on women holding power…that century remains an outlier in Europe when it comes to powerful women and queens. I am probably going to write an essay about my interest in US History, and one about my interest in ancient Egypt.

And on that note, I am going to take my coffee into the living room to see if any more news has broken since I went to bed last night, after which I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

The temple at Edfu, Egypt

Long Violent History

Work at home Friday, with all kinds of stuff to get done today before I head out this afternoon for some medical appointments; maintenance checks, more than anything else and nothing serious. I was very tired at the end of my work day yesterday, but had to run an errand on my way home. By the time I got home my brain was fried and my hip joints were aching–they are again this morning as I swill my coffee and wait for my meeting this morning while doing data entry. I did not do a single chore last night when I got home, more’s the pity, so I am going to need to do those today and get this place straightened up and cleaned up. Heavy sigh. I didn’t do a whole hell of a lot last night other than watch the news and watch some research videos on Youtube. The coffee is kicking in now, and Sparky let me sleep a little while longer this morning, which was also kind of nice. I don’t think I’m going to leave the house today; I need to drop books off at the library sale tomorrow, so I might as well go get the mail and make groceries for the weekend then, right?

As the world continues to burn thanks to our grifting, greedy and soulless leadership in Washington, I must say the administration and the rest of the Epstein class (someone defined the super-rich this way on-line; I wish I could remember who it was to give proper credit, my apologies) are certainly doing their best to bring on the angry, violent mobs who’ll drag them to a guillotine on the mall after sacking the Capital and the White House. Remember, it’s not the left side of the equation in this country who resorts to violence; it’s his own base, whom he keeps pissing on every day, almost daring them to turn on him. I don’t know how so many people were conned, especially when he told them, throughout the campaign, that he didn’t care about them, he just needed their votes–and their arrogant smugness has certainly come back around and kicked them in the balls, hasn’t it? Thoughts and prayers, trash. I have as much sympathy for you, as you had for immigrants in 2024. I wouldn’t let any of you suck my dick if you were suffocating and there was oxygen in my balls.

I am also highly amused to see their precious Second Amendment and stand-your-ground and open carry laws blowing up in ICE’s fucking faces in North Carolina. The Right, always so arrogant in their firm belief that they are the real patriots and vox populi and that God is on their side, have convinced themselves over decades that the left, wanting common-sense gun laws, hate guns and don’t own any and don’t shoot. Let me introduce you stupid fucks to the deep South, where everyone is armed, pretty much has a room full of guns in their homes, and there are open-carry and stand your ground laws. Those also apply to the government, and if you think you’re going on private property to arrest immigrants you’re going to be run off with guns. After all, hasn’t their entire argument for unfettered and unlimited gun access always been that we need guns in order to defend ourselves against the encroachment of the federal government? And they are surprised that people are using their Second Amendment rights to prevent the feds from overreaching and attacking their neighbors?

And remember, there was a massive influx of Latino/Hispanic immigrants to New Orleans in the wake of Katrina to rebuild the city. Without them, who knows how long it would have taken for New Orleans to be a viable city again? New Orleans doesn’t consider itself to be part of Louisiana, you think we consider the Feds our overlords? Again, let me remind you that 83% of the New Orleans vote went to Harris/Walz, and the same went for Biden, and Hillary before them. Trump’s only friends in New Orleans are the super rich and the Archdiocese (which has also been covering up child rape for decades), and they aren’t going out there to stop protests and anti-ICE activity. Of course, our mayor is a lame duck and has been a grifting useless piece of shit for quite some time now (what is it about being elected mayor here?), and our governor is a such a sad and pathetic “pick me fascist” that he’ll be on his knees before his disgusting god-emperor with his mouth open with a snap of the fingers…I do worry about the safety of our people here, especially our immigrant population (and historically New Orleans has always been multi-cultural and we have large and interesting ethnic populations here; Isleños, Greeks, Irish, Jews, Filipinos, Italians, and of course, the trafficked Africans), but New Orleanians do not put up with shit from outsiders, so it’s going to be interesting.

New Orleans has a very long, and very violent, history–no matter what the metro area white flight racists claim, there was never a time in the city’s history when there wasn’t violence and crime here. They left when the schools were integrated because they are racist garbage–but they sure will tell people they are from New Orleans though, because no one anywhere knows or gives a shit about Metairie, Kenner, Mandeville, and so forth. How many destination weddings take place in Kenner or Metairie? Just asking.

Oh! I watched the first episode of The American Revolution last night, and it gave me a lot of thoughts. I may watch more of it tonight.

And on that note, best to get back to my data entry. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Chiseled in Stone

And it’s Sunday morning again, and Sparky was rather insistent on being fed this morning, so I am up earlier than I have been the rest of the weekend. Which is fine, I feel rested and good this morning. I didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I would have liked, of course; but I did do some chores and read for a little bit, which was nice. It was a mellow day, really, and I ran my errand in the morning, cooked out for the afternoon, and so have some writing and reading and cleaning to do today. I hate when LSU plays a noon game, because the rest of the day afterwards seems so long…LSU did win, beating 2-8 Arkansas by one (!) point in Baton Rouge. The game seemed kind of dull to me, but I wasn’t ensconced in my chair during the game with my blood pressure elevating. I might rewatch it at some point this morning, or have it on while I read. Alabama lost a shocker to Oklahoma at home yesterday, and Georgia humiliated Texas last night–Mississippi depending on a lot of luck to beat Florida. It’s been a hot minute, too, since a team beat Alabama in back-to-back years. I imagine their coach is under fire this morning.

I downloaded another audiobook for the drive to Kentucky next week; I got the third Mary Russell novel by MWA Grand Master Laurie R. King, A Letter of Mary, and I am very excited to listen to it. Her Mary Russell/Sherlock Holmes series is magnificent, and an excellent replacement for one of my favorite series of all time, Elizabeth Peters’ Amelia Peabody1 series. Mary’s voice and character remind me of my beloved Peabody, it’s almost like getting another book by the late Ms. Peters. I’ve loved everything I’ve read that Laurie writes; again, just like Peters. I also have a shit ton of audiobooks on my phone I’ve not listened to (why do I hoard books in every form in which they appear? Why am I like this?); but I like the idea of listening to King on the way up and Donna Andrews (whose Meg also reminds me of Peabody2) on the way back. That sounds like an absolutely delightful plan to me, at any rate. I also need to get braced for the cold.

We also watched the rhythm dance competition for Skate America; we’ll probably watch the free dance and the men’s final this afternoon. I also would love to get back to Lazarus, and am thinking about watching this new Frankenstein. But I also need to get some reading and writing, and get caught up on the news. It’s interesting watching Fox and the White House and their allies turning on each other, isn’t it? Explaining why fifteen isn’t as bad as five or eight for child rape? So much evil and nastiness being exposed to the disinfecting power of sunlight at long last. Can we at least stop ceding the moral high ground to the child rapist party? When this menace and disaster are finally over, there needs to be some serious accountability…or the cycle will begin all over again. There should have been tribunals after the Civil War, and there should have been again after civil rights and integration. It does not speak well of our country that we never want to deal with accountability…and seriously, there should have been hearings after we dropped two atomic bombs on Japan.3

I really get angry when I think about how the public school system of the 1960s indoctrinated me into American exceptionalism, and how it’s taken up so much of my time as an adult unlearning that bullshit. But at least I recognized that I needed to rethink much of everything I was taught to believe growing up; which so many never, ever do.

And that’s another newsletter essay, isn’t it? Heavy sigh.

Sorry this is so brief, but there really isn’t much to report this morning. So I am going to go to my chair with my coffee and read for a bit while catching up on the news, and then I am going to clean and write. Have a lovely Sunday, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Pharaoh Akhenaten, the heretic
  1. I really need to do a newsletter about Elizabeth Peters/Barbara Michaels. ↩︎
  2. I really should also do a newsletter about those three women. ↩︎
  3. To this day, we remain the only nation to use weapons of mass destruction on another. We really cannot climb onto the moral high horse with anyone, can we? ↩︎

I Hold On

Well, here we are on an extremely cold Tuesday morning and it is very chilly here in the work station here in the kitchen; I don’t even want to think about how cold the floor would be against bare feet (which is why I have a very comfortable pair of house shoes). It is bitterly cold outside this morning; about thirty-one degrees, per the local weather. It ends tonight, by the way, and we’ll recede back into fall from winter tomorrow (highs in the high 60s, low 70s) with a chance at winter coming back relatively soon. I just laughed at myself for talking about the weather; I kind of do that every day, don’t I?

Then again, I am sixty-four, and the right age to sit outside a country store in a rocking chair wearing a railroad cap and overalls and chewing tobacco. There, but for choices…but I don’t think old men hang around outside the country store/gas station in rural areas anymore; that’s part and parcel of my childhood and that world doesn’t really exist anymore, much as I’d like to think that it does. It often crops up when I am writing about Alabama–because that’s how I remember it, and that Alabama is so far gone in the rear view mirror it cannot even be seen.

Despite Chuckie and the Quislings, yesterday was also a lovely day because that horrible witch Kim Davis’ appeal of the six figure settlement awarded to a couple that sued her skank cosplay christian ass for refusing to issue a marriage license for them? Yeah, for once the Supreme Court did the right thing and refused to hear her case. Womp fucking womp, bitch. Have fun in bankruptcy hell. Maybe your buddies in the Huckabee family will help you pay off that oh-so-deserved debt liability, you miserable bitch. Now you can slink back to the bog you slithered out of, and you will forever be known as a hateful bitch deserted by the people who used her to try to overturn Obergefell1, which SCOTUS is just itching to do (her case wasn’t good enough for even those partisan hacks to overturn their previous decision; they’re waiting for the right one, you know. They have lifetime appointments and aren’t going anywhere soon). Just like the murdering thugs George Zimmerman and that pasty Mama’s soft boy whose name I can’t even remember at the moment, they abandoned her as soon as she ceased to be of use to them. What a shame.

I was tired last night when I got home from the errands in the cold. Well, tired isn’t the right word; more like I felt drained and listless. The apartment wasn’t cold, but I didn’t really feel 100% most of the day, either. I feel better this morning–not much of a reach there–so maybe I’ll be able to get some things done tonight when I get home from work, whether it’s writing or reading my Donna Andrews mystery. (I have to say, when I was moving stuff around on the end table–reordering the TBR Next Pile; Wanda Morris is up next–and I opened the book to just take a look at the opening…and she talks about the mass suicide at Igbo Landing, which I’ve been reading about!!! I cannot wait to read this book now! I should also see how far behind I am on Wanda’s work….and it’s only this one I’ve not gotten to yet. Huzzah! Note to self: email her.) I also have dishes to put away and dishes to put in the dishwasher. Sigh. There are worse things, after all.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again on Midweek Wednesday morning.

  1. She also needs to keep Jesus out of her skank mouth. Jesus never once preached arrogance in the faith or cruelty. You, madam, are arrogant in your faith AND cruel. Enjoy doing the breaststroke in the lake of eternal fire, blasphemer. ↩︎

Ridin’ My Thumb to Mexico

Tuesday! We survived Monday, Constant Reader, and lived to tell the tale. Huzzah for us! I also gave myself my first Skyrizi1 injection on my own, and it was pretty easy and simple. Before anxiety medications, I would have undoubtedly worked myself up into quite the tizzy about the injection, but as I said, it was pretty easy and before I knew it all the medicine was in my system and I could toss the device into the SHARPS container in my testing room. I didn’t even bleed, or feel the needle at all. Also, the first time I did it, with the pharmaceutical company’s nurse watching and helping, I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids so couldn’t hear it running. Not a problem with the hearing aids in, though! It actually sounded rather loud, frankly, so if there was any doubt about whether they help me hear better, there’s the answer.

I also spent some time yesterday filing my claim with the Anthropic settlement. They had eighteen of my titles (!!!), which was time consuming to enter each book into the claim database, but it could have been worse; they didn’t have all of my titles, praise Jesus. I doubt I’ll ever see a cent from this, but hey, I certainly wouldn’t had I not filed a claim, right? But it was sobering to see how much they stole from me–thought they had a right to steal from me–but we are again living in the time of the Long Con, aren’t we?

Speaking of long cons, I woke up to the news that Dick Cheney has died2. We used to call Darth Cheney back in those pre-Tea Party pre-MAGA pre-Obama days, because he was a horrible, evil man whose primary concerns were getting us into endless wars so the company he used to work for, Halliburton (remember them, anyone?), could make billions in profit. The Republicans of that era used 9/11 and its aftermath to consolidate power, pass the egregiously unconstitutional PATRIOT Act (the foundation for the bullshit we’re seeing today), and the creation of Homeland Security. Remember how quickly the “fiscally conservative” Republicans spent through the surplus Clinton left behind, and pissed all over the budget and the deficit? But hey, so long as Halliburton was profiting from the wars, right? They lied to the American public to get us into Iraq, and no one was ever held accountable, which is part of the reason we’re in the mess we’re in now; we don’t hold politicians accountable for lying to the citizenry.

And don’t even get me started on the homophobia of the Bush-Cheney years. He participated in a campaign that targeted queer people and homophobia despite having a queer child of his own, if that tells you anything about who, and what, Dick Cheney was. He eventually publicly changed his mind about queer people and marriage equality, but he never acknowledged or apologized for his war crimes, or his crimes against the American people. Y’all can mourn him all you like; but his family has always been just as bad as he was–and his daughter’s anti-Trump turn didn’t make up for all the bad shit she has said and done over the years, either–and the widow is just as vile as her husband, if not more so.

I also made groceries on the way home from work last night. I wasn’t tired, which was odd; it was a slow day at the clinic and so I was able to get some other administrative work done, which was very cool. Paul was working on a grant, so I spent the evening watching videos for research on Youtube and taking notes. I worked on a novella for a little while (A Holler Full of Kudzu, for those who take note of these sorts of things), which was fun–I do like creating without any deadline pressures on me–and I love that I am sliding back into writing mode again. I do love writing.

I also finished my final Halloween Horror Month newsletter for 2025, about my recent reread of The Haunting of Hill House, and why I love the book (and its author) so much. It may be the best essay I’ve done for the newsletter so far; which probably has everything to do with how much I love the book, and writing about it. I am always so nervous to do those kinds of essays; one of the reasons I am so insecure about them, especially when exploring the art of others, is that I don’t have the kind of educational background I feel might be necessary. I’ve not read scholarship or articles or essays about literature or film or television; my insights therefore might not be so fresh or original as I think they might be; is anything really original anymore? But…my opinions are just as valid as anyone else’s, and why do I need to read the opinions of others to form my own? Confidence is always the name of the game, and working through and ignoring the lack of it in my brain can only help me grow as a person and as a writer, right?

Easier said than done.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I will check back in again tomorrow morning.

Um, SIR YES SIR!!!
  1. This is the medication for the ulcerative colitis I have to inject every eight weeks. ↩︎
  2. He was 84, only a few years older than the current head of his party. ↩︎