Tag: Frenier

Da Doo Ron Ron

Sunday, Sunday…can’t trust that day.

I probably should have saved this title for Monday, since the original lyrics open with “met her on a Monday and my heart stood still.” But it will always be a Shaun Cassidy tune to me, even though his version was a cover and reminds me of the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries series that aired in the late 1970s. Ah, to be in my teens again–only medicated properly this time. What a difference that could have made, right?

I left the apartment yesterday morning to walk over to the Marsten House on St. Charles, and I have to say–the experience was vastly superior to the one I had on Magazine, in the Garden District’s version of Walgreens. Including walking there and back, it took a sum total of fifteen minutes, so fuck you, Walgreens on Magazine; you will now be known as the Marsten House on Magazine, and the one a block from my house will simply be Walgreens again. Still not planning on doing much business with them going forward, but the experience was entirely pleasant. Until I got home, at any rate. Remember, I felt good yesterday morning? Well, within an hour of getting home I was running a slight fever and was completely exhausted. Everything aches from fatigue this morning, despite a good night’s sleep, and my alarm kitty let me sleep later than usual, too. (He tried to get me up at the normal time, but when I didn’t? He just turned into a purring kitty cuddle puddle, which made it even harder to get up. My mind was woozy all day, too, so I didn’t get much done other than sitting in my easy chair with football games on, a couple of things around the house (dishes and a load of laundry), and read some more of The Hunting Wives. Paul was out packing up his office all day and didn’t get home until after nine (he’ll be doing the same today, too). Most of the football games were disappointing–LSU lost and played terribly; Auburn lost to A&M; and Arkansas lost to Notre Dame. Georgia-Alabama was a really good game, as was Mississippi State-Tennessee, and Tulane trounced Tulsa. But I wasn’t really vested in any of the games–the fatigue and brain fog thing again–so the LSU loss didn’t really hit as hard as it usually does. So, thanks, COVID vaccine?

And do not @me regarding the vaccine reaction. I work in public health, so let me stop you before you start: I will block you for anti-vaxxer stupidity, and fuck you, while we are at it; fuck you with a razor-blade encrusted dildo. Jenny McCarthy should burn in hell for all eternity for her ignorance and idiocy–anyone who listens to that stupid bitch for medical advice is even worse than she is– period, and fuck you. I reacted strongly to the vaccine because I am immunocompromised because of the colitis, idiots.

I will never understand the mentality that it’s preferable to have a dead child as opposed to an autistic one.

My hips and legs ache painfully. It’s horrible. But my coffee is delicious, and so was my coffee cake. I’m about to make some toast, and maybe a bowl of cereal and get another cup. I have some emails I want to answer this morning–I’ve been ignoring my inbox for quite some time–and of course, there are some finishing touches the apartment also needs to have done. I don’t know what my energy is going to be like throughout the rest of the day, but I hold out hope for a very nice, productive day.

Also? I really miss the time when I didn’t dread checking the news.

I did think a lot yesterday about the book and writing, even if I couldn’t focus enough to write. (The brain fog is absolutely terrifying, for the record. And the memory losses are even worse.) I know what the book needs in order to be finished, and it’s just a matter of energy and brain function. I also watched some videos for research for other projects (and for the book, too), and stumbled across a marvelous documentary about the Manchac Swamp and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. As you may or may not remember, the “curse” also involves the complete destruction of the isolated swamp town, Frenier, where she lived, by the Hurricane of 1915. (It also wiped out Manila Village and the Filipino settlements on the shores of Barataria Bay and Lake Borgne.) I’ve always wanted to write about the hurricane and Julia Brown–as well as the Filipino immigrant settlements, and it occurred to me after watching this documentary (which also talked about the destruction of the cypress forests in the swamp, which has also severely damaged the swamp ecosystem), and as we all know, I’ve been thinking about writing an environmental thriller set down here. Why not about the Manchac Swamp and some murders?

Why not, indeed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday filled with love and laughter and relaxation, and I will be back on the morrow.

Crumbling old bridge in rural Louisiana

Candy-O

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office this week. We’re have a staff development day tomorrow, so I have to go in for the full day. I’m not as bitter about this as one might think, primarily because next weekend is Labor Day so I get a three day weekend on top of working at home next Friday. Huzzah!

Working on my birthday was interesting. Nobody made a fuss1, which was so greatly appreciated, but everyone wished me a happy birthday, which was nice. I woke up feeling some fatigue in my legs (which is where it always starts), but that gradually went away during the day. I had a lovely day at the office, came straight home, and did little to nothing the rest of the night–no reading, no writing (I did work on a newsletter entry, tho), no anything–other than relax, catch up on the news, and watched some television when Paul was done with working before I went to bed. I don’t feel fatigued in any way this morning, which is nice, other than some tiredness in my legs–which I am thinking will clear up as the day progresses, the same as yesterday. I slept really well last night and feel mentally alert this morning, which is a good thing. I don’t have any errands to run tonight, either–so I get to come straight home after work, which is great; and for tomorrow, we don’t have to be at the office until nine-thirty…so I can sleep a little later tomorrow morning.

I also got a ton of birthday wishes on social media. I tried to like every post, but am not sure what degree of success I had with that. It was kind of nice. Nobody has to, after all, so getting so many is really nice. If I didn’t like your post, it was an oversight and my apologies. (I am never sure what the etiquette is with these sorts of things, either….I never know what the proper etiquette is in any situation.)

I think my favorite thing I saw yesterday while getting caught up on the news after work was watching conservatives melting down over Gavin Newsom’s tweets mocking their pathetic god-emperor2. Listening to them describing the mockery as childish, immature, and unbecoming for a GOVERNOR…while not realizing that everything they were saying applied tenfold to their POS fascist sun-downing grandpa poopy-pants lord and master. (The fact said orange-faced child rapist shit-gibbon has discovered and turned off the caps-lock and exclamation point key on his phone tells me its working on the shitgibbon. We never should have stopped calling them weird last summer.) But intellect has never been MAGA’s strong suit, has it?

And where are the Epstein files?

I also spent some time revisiting the early days of my blog, as I am writing about Katrina again. It is kind of amazing that I’ve been maintaining a blog for over twenty years. This December it will be twenty-one years. I sure didn’t think I’d be doing this for that long when I started all those years ago; I assumed I’d eventually bore of it and start missing days (also important to note that in the early days I didn’t write an entry every day, either) then weeks, and one morning I’d realize I’d not done one in years. I’m also researching hurricanes as I am writing a fictional one in the will-it-ever-be-finished Scotty book. The nice thing about writing is you can always do research when you’re not actually up for putting words on the page. Of course, it’s also incredibly easy to think “I’ll just do some research instead of writing” which happens far too frequently.

I am also sidetracked easily by things I find interesting. Oh, there’s a new three-hour documentary about the Thirty Years’ War on Youtube? Let me watch this even though I’ll probably never write about that war or that time period…and then I have to try to figure out a way to write a short story or something so I didn’t waste the time. I did watch some videos about the 1915 New Orleans hurricane, which has always interested me–still trying to figure out a way to write about Julia Brown, the “voodoo queen” of Frenier, a community completely destroyed by the storm. Frenier also interests me because it was only accessible by either train or boat; talk about a cut off, insular community! The storm also destroyed the Filipino community of St. Malo on Lake Borgne, which I also want to write about at some point. (I should read Isaac’s Storm by Erik Larson–which is about the 1900 storm that destroyed Galveston; I’ve always thought Galveston and its great storm would be a good foundation for a romantic suspense novel set in the present, a la Phyllis A. Whitney.

I also picked up some new-to-me books on Tuesday: Trespassers at the Golden Gate by Gary Krist; First Lie Wins by Ashley Elston (whom I met at the TWFest this past year and loved her); Havoc by Christopher Bollen; Mississippi Blue 42 by Eli Cranor; and Bitter Blood by Jerry Bledsoe (true crime). Yes, I know, I need to get rid of books instead of adding news ones to the TBR pile (I think I am now three books behind on Eli Cranor, and so many books behind that Christopher Bollen has published!). I also got my contributor copy of Crime Ink: Iconic, which is gorgeous and I will talk about some more at another time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning, undoubtedly whining about having to go into the office.

  1. I don’t really like making a big deal out of my birthday–cakes, balloons, cards, all that stuff associated with “my big day”–and haven’t for at least thirty years, if not longer. ↩︎
  2. I wish someone would redo the paperback cover of God Emperor of Dune changing it from ‘Dune’ to ‘MAGA’ and imposing his hideous face on the sandworm. ↩︎

Reach

Monday morning and back to the office with me. I feel rested this morning–it took me a minute to wake up–and good, like this is going to be a very good week for one Gregalicious. It’s also my birthday month, which is kind of fun; I’ll be sixty-three in a few weeks (note to self: take birthday and day before off for a four day weekend), and that’s not nearly as traumatizing as it could be, you know? I don’t mind getting older; I never really have and I also don’t care about being old. I joke about it, but it’s never serious. A gay man who was in his twenties during the 1980s and made it to sixty-three? There aren’t as many of us as there should be, and that’s not something I will ever get over, I don’t think. A quick glance at the weather lets me know that it will “feel like” 112 today; Debby is battering the Florida coast; and we won’t be getting any rain today. We didn’t have any this weekend, I don’t think. I went out into the heat yesterday to make groceries, and retreated home as quickly as I could. (The cost of groceries is insane–I cannot believe how much I spent for so little…thanks, corporate greed!)

I’ve been listening to a podcast in the car the last few days, and I am really enjoying it. I’ve never gotten into podcasts–I have never been known as an early adapter; sometimes I don’t adapt at all. I’ve never really understood podcasts, how to find them, or even how to listen to them. I did figure it out last summer (I did find some great ones about hauntings and legends of the South; i listened to one about Julia Brown and the destruction of Frenier, Louisiana, for my unfinished story “When I Die”), but again–when I am in town I am rarely in the car long enough to listen to something all the way through, which totally sucks for audiobooks; you can’t listen to a ten hour book in twenty minute segments. At least I can’t; I don’t remember things anymore so it’s hard for me to pick back up if I go a few days without getting back into the book. Memory is necessary for reading, alas, which is why I am having so much trouble reading these days. Maybe if I commit to a chapter per night? I’ve either got to start reading regularly again or I have to stop compulsively buying books. Anyway, I asked my supervisor last week what audiobook she was going to listen to on her long drive this past weekend and she replied, “I don’t listen to books because I worry I’ll go to sleep. I listen to podcasts.” I of course then expressed my geriatric usual response to the word “podcast” and she recommended one to me, which I started listening to on the way home from work Thursday. It’s hilarious. It’s called “My Dad Wrote a Porno”, features three Brits (two men, one women) and that is what it’s about. One man’s dad wrote a porn novel, and each episode is his son reading one aloud and the three reacting to it. It is amazingly hilarious because…well, because the writing of the book, Belinda Blinked, is hilariously campy and bad. (It’s also a real book, for sale on Amazon.) I’ve been listening in the car non-stop, and we’re only up to chapter three. Apparently, there are eight seasons, so this should entertain me in the car for quite some time!

I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday other than the grocery run, finishing the final season of Elite (the first three seasons remain the best), which was a bit satisfying but…they did leave some of the characters with dangling stories, so it’s entire possible they could do spin-offs, but the only spin-off I want to see is one with Carla (Ester Exposito), but that ship has sailed, alas. Tonight we’ll watch more Olympics (we did last night, too); it is unbelievable how much of a good mood the Olympics puts me into. These games also seem a bit more special this time around; the 2020 ones were kind of messed up, taking place in 2021 with no crowds, so we’ve really not had an Olympics like usual since 2016. The athletes seem to really be grateful to be there; losing gold and settling for either silver or bronze isn’t coming across as “disappointing” or “losing.” Gold medals are rare, and fluky things happen at the Olympics; which is part of the excitement. You never know who’s going to become a star during the games (if someone had told me that a nerdy pommel horse specialist from Worcester, MA would capture the hearts of the American public, I would have laughed). So many amazing stories in so many different sporting disciplines…so inspiring, and the athletes are just wonderful. Just being there is a win, let alone getting a medal. I would just be so thrilled to be there I don’t think any disappointment would stick for long. I will be sorry when it ends, but am very excited the next games will be in Los Angeles! Woo-hoo! Our time zones so we can watch live!

I really do feel bad for the people who’d rather be angry than enjoy the spirit of sport and athletic excellence from young people who’ve trained their whole lives for this moment and celebrate healthy competition, but those people tend to find no joy in life and just want to make everyone else as miserable as they are. Misery loves company indeed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, and I may be back later; one can never be certain.

My Happiness

Tuesday and feeling a bit better after the wasted weekend (I wasn’t wasted, but rather wasted the weekend; but I need to stop looking at it that way and realize both my body and my brain wanted, and needed, rest). I wrote another chapter last night and am back into the book; here’s hoping it will last and I’ll keep writing as more time passes. The work wasn’t great, but it’s done and it’s fixable. This weekend I am going to have to really dive into things for sure, and I am hoping this week I’ll be able to keep up with the kitchen and everything else so I don’t have to spend a lot of time doing that this weekend and instead can dive headfirst into writing and reading.

I stopped to pick up a few things on the way home from the grocery store last night, and then once I was home I emptied the dishwasher, bonded with Sparky a bit, and then sat down to work. Sparky wasn’t especially fond of this idea–he’s not fond of anything I do that doesn’t involve either providing a lap for him to sleep in, filling his food bowl, or playing with him. I do think we’re going to have to make a Costco run this weekend at some point–we’re running low on some things–and there are some other things I need to order for delivery this weekend, too.

But I am happy I am writing again. I’m sorry I didn’t have the time or energy to edit “Passenger to Franklin,” which I was writing for the Chessies chapter’s next anthology; but it wasn’t ready to be submitted and had I done so, it would have been rejected anyway. The nice thing is this anthology–themed around urban legends–provided two short stories for me–“When I Die” and this one; both of which need editing, and both of which I think are going to be terrific stories and perfect for my collection, too. I have found the voice for “Passenger,” which was missing in the first draft, and “When I Die” needs to be revised so I can make the main character gay; it works better that way, especially with an unrequited crush on his wealthier roommate. I like the idea of them visiting the graveyard at Frenier as kind of a fraternity prank; the rich roommate thinks it might be a fun thing to do to all the pledges, and the one they take out with them into the Manchac Swamp is a pledge who looks up to both of them, in a smarmy way the main character doesn’t necessarily like–and we see a personality change come over him as they cruise through the swamp at night. (I also need to look up boats, and sometime I have to drive out to Laplace so I can take the old highway and see what that’s like so I can write about it some more. The college and town I am writing about on the North Shore is fictional, of course; but Frenier and the swamp are real.

And both legalizing cannabis and protecting abortion are now on the ballot in Florida, which makes me absolutely giddy with joy. This is very good news for the Democratic Party and really bad news for trash like DeSantis and that ghoul Rick Scott; I would hope it means a huge turnout which always is bad news for Republicans–that’s why they are always screaming about “voter fraud” and trying to suppress people’s right to vote; free and open elections generally aren’t good for Fascists.

After I got my word count for the day, Paul and I settled in and started watching Apples Never Fall, which we are really enjoying. It’s based on a book by Liane Moriarty (also the author of Big Little Lies and a few others; I’ve enjoyed everything of hers that I’ve read thus far) and I like how this is playing out so far. It’s so nice having Paul home in the evenings again–I’d forgotten how much I just enjoy our down time together in the evenings.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back again later; one never knows.

Put It In A Magazine

Wednesday morning in the Lost Apartment, where it is a staggering 39 degrees outside. Brrr! But I slept pretty well (even if I didn’t want to get up), and my mind is slowly but surely coming back to life. Yesterday wasn’t a bad day at all, but I was out of sorts and off-track for pretty much the entire day, because my routine was disrupted when I got to work and so…yeah. I did run my errands on the way home from work last night and got home to a needy Sparky, so I had to spend some time playing with him and then transformed my lap into a cat bed for a little while. Tomorrow morning I have to get up super-early for PT–which I am not looking forward to, and of course there’s a department meeting on Friday morning, that I think I’ll go into the office for despite it being my at-home day and having the ability to call in for it. I have some on-line events Saturday for the January Bold Strokes bookathon, which I should post more about, and then the rest of the weekend is mine.

I did some more research into a story I am writing last night, and yes, I actually started writing the story. I’m writing about Julia Brown, the “witch” of Manchac Swamp who worked as the healer in a small town inside the swamp and along the lake shore, which was only accessible by railroad. Frenier was a small community, and it was completely destroyed by the 1915 hurricane; all that is left of it is the cemetery and it’s only accessible by boat now. I’ve always wanted to write about the 1915 hurricane since I first learned of it–it came up when I was down a rabbit-hole about the Filipino settlements on Lake Borgne, which were also destroyed in the 1915 hurricane, which led me to reading about Frenier, and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. (I do wish I’d known about all this before I wrote a Sherlock story set in 1916; no mention of the previous year’s destruction in that story is odd but maybe unnecessary; it didn’t impact the plot of the story at all, but…if I set another Sherlock story in that same time period I need to address that elephant in the room.)

I also went down another research wormhole last night, too–inspired by Mary & George–about George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham and his close relationship not only with James I but with his son, Charles I…although the relationship between Villiers and Charles I wasn’t quite the same kind of erotic friendship as Villiers enjoyed with the senior Stuart. Buckingham was also one of the real historical figures that appeared in Dumas’ The Three Musketeers, which I still want to retell one day from the point of view of Milady deWinter. It’s such a fascinating period, really, and the clothes! Mon Dieu, the clothes! I’ve always been fascinated by Cardinal Richelieu, and really need to get over my fear of writing about a historical period and just buckle down and write that damned book, don’t I? Sigh. I also need to get back to both Chlorine and Muscles, too.

Heavy heaving sigh.

But I am also starting to feel like I am settling back into my normal, every day life, and I feel better than I have in years. That cloudy feeling in my brain seems to be gone, and I am adapting to getting back up early in the morning without much hassle; I suspect the sleeping pills are working their magic and sending me into a deep healthy sleep every night, which pays off in being both awake and lucid in the morning. I’ve also got some blog entries to finish writing–my thoughts on Saltburn, because I know everyone is just waiting to hear what I have to say about it, and some analysis of the most recent chapter of the graphic novel Heartstopper, both of which are destined to be queer cultural artifacts.

And I hope to finish reading Tara Laskowski’s The Weekend Retreat before the weekend, too. I should have spent some time with it last night, but it was after six when I got home and by the time I was finished with putting stuff away and quality Sparky time and writing, it was later and so I just went down the Villiers wormhole. I also watched the final episode of season 2 of War of the Worlds, and am officially tapping out now. Not only was the shark jumped, the story became preposterous. I thought it might be a bit more interesting and intriguing once I realized the direction they were going in, but no. I also forgot part one of the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City was airing last night, so I’ll be catching up on that tonight after reading. I get to go straight home from the office tonight, so fingers crossed that I’ll get some good reading time in before I shut my mind off and dig into some reality television.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and who knows? I may be back later.