Tag: Gabino Iglesias

Winds of Change

It was weird reading Gabino Iglesias’ latest, House of Bone and Rain, for any number of reasons that had nothing to do with the quality of the book. I was reading it when that “comedian” called Puerto Rico “a floating pile of garbage” (not that it mattered); while writing my own book, also set during a hurricane; and was thinking about writing another supernatural thriller about teenagers. This book is set in Puerto Rico before, during, and after a hurricane, and the main characters are teenagers. Serendipity? Synchronicity? An interesting series of events? I’m not sure if it’s anything other than a lovely coincidence, but there it is. I also really loved Gabino’s previous novel, the award-winning and critically acclaimed The Devil Takes You Home, which was exceptional, and had my appetite whetted for a follow up.

It says a lot about an author so good they make me overlook things I generally don’t like to read about–machismo, violence–because they are able to turn those things into art.

The last day of classes, our last day as high school students, marked a new era for us. We wanted it. we feared it. We had plans for it. Then Bimbo’s mom hit the sidewalk with two bullet holes in her face, and the blood drowned out all those plans.

Bimbo called to tell us the day after it happened. His real name was Andrés, but we mostly called him Bimbo because he was brown and chubby and looked like the mascot bear of a brand of cookies. It’s normal for people to report the death of a parent. Old age. Cancer. A heart attack. Whatever. Old people die and we expect it, accept it even. It’s normal. Murder is different. Murder is a monster that chews up whatever expectations you had regarding death and spits them in your face. Murder is an attack on someone’s life, yes, but also an attack on those left behind.

When Bimbo called to tell me about the death of his mother, María, I felt attacked. “They shot my mom, man.” Five words about the recent past that were heavy enough to crush out future.

It says a lot about an author so good they make me overlook things I generally don’t like to read about–machismo, violence–because they are able to turn those things into art. I generally don’t like to read about extreme violence, with bones crunching, blood spurting, and teeth flying. Because I do actually abhor the use of violence1, it’s very hard for me to relate to characters who turn to violence for whatever reason; it’s not easy to ever make me think yes, this is the right path. Violence and rage are very dark places to go, and while I completely understand embracing your rage, I will vent it a bit so it calms down before I go there. But Iglesias is the kind of writer who can pull a squeamish reader along the path of male rage and violence, which is emotion-driven rather than logical.

The book centers a group of five young friends who have just graduated from high school, and the brotherhood they develop by uniting as a group and fighting off everyone else; it’s very Three Musketeers-like; “anyone fucks with one of us, they fuck with all of us.” Iglesias also provides enough back story to make each character an individual–not easy to do with so many characters–as well as the group dynamic and why, despite any internal squabbling, they always try to present a united front on this dark odyssey of revenge and violence. Gabe, our narrator, is kind of at loose ends at the opening of the book and not knowing what he wants to do with his life. He has a girlfriend he genuinely cares about and wants to build a life with, who wants to move to the mainland and go to nursing school–and wants him to come with…but his own ties to Puerto Rico, including his mother, make it hard for him to make the choice. What if he does and it doesn’t work out? What will he do then? He is transitioning from callow youth into manhood at far too young an age, but…that’s what life is like for people living under colonization.2

Gabe is also the conscience of the story–if there can actually be one. He goes along with his brothers to get revenge for Bimbo’s mother’s murder, which puts them afoul of a drug cartel (seriously, who sets out to kill the head of a murderous criminal cartel?), but there’s also something else going on…there’s some supernatural elements involved with the cartel as well that either could just be gossipy stories to scare people into obedience, or might just be real.

The book barrels along at an excellent pace–the length of time it took for me to get through it had nothing to do with the quality; I was trying to savor it because I was enjoying the voice and the writing so much. It’s also very vivid and real; Iglesias writes in such a way that puts you right there in the room with the characters–and always, there’s this foreboding sense that time is running out for the boys, and not all of them may make it to the end.

An excellent mash-up of horror, crime, and noir stylings, I have to say this is terrific, so check it out.

  1. Ain’t going to lie, there’s a part of my brain that does think that those who commit violence should get it back, repeatedly and far worse, than they dealt. ↩︎
  2. After the Puerto Rico garbage insult, people thought Puerto Rico should become a state; which I found amusing. No, they should be granted their independence from their final colonizers and paid reparations. Who says statehood in a racist country is desirable for them? ↩︎

Catch Us If You Can

I rolled into New Orleans around eight thirty last night; twelve hours, give or take, in the car for the second time in less than a week. It was an okay drive, although there was a lot more traffic than I would have preferred. It was also cold in Kentucky but hot when I got further south, so I didn’t dress properly for the drive and got home feeling kind of icky. But the good news is that neither drive exhausted me the way that drive used to, which is pretty awesome. This is also the first time I’ve been up there since new meds/surgery recovery. I slept well the entire time I was there and wasn’t tired for a change, too. I’ve gotten a lot closer to my dad since Mom passed away almost two years ago–they were such a unit and so devoted to each other that they were all either really needed. I didn’t foresee this, and talking to him about my childhood and what it was like for them when they were young and first dating and so on. I choked up many times while I was up there that I lost count, but I still won’t cry in front of my dad–childhood training in masculinity still deeply engrained in me.

I also have decided, in the wake of last Tuesday, that my primary focus going forward is myself (and Paul and Sparky, of course) and not wasting any energy on things I cannot control. I have finally achieved some kind of mental stability and settled into my life and who I am and what I want out of my life, so I am going to enjoy myself and focus on my work and Paul for as long as I can until I either have to step up because of my conscience, or…I get classified as a dissident for my sexuality and my work, with whatever horrors that is going to bring. I accepted a long time ago that most straight white people are homophobic garbage, and even those who think they are allies don’t care about us when they are voting. These people wanted us all dead in the 1980s, and I guess that’s what we’re going back to. I also decided to unsubscribe from a bunch of newsletters, and did so this morning. I will never go back to CNN or MSNBC; and I am definitely for sure done with the New York Times, Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times. Fuck you people forever. Have fun being controlled by the state, assholes. This is what you wanted, and no sympathy from me. I also am going to severely limit my time on social media. I’ve wasted too much of my life on there as it is, and I have better things to do.

I guess not enough people have seen Cabaret, or missed its message.

I did finish Gabino Iglesias’ latest (more on that later) and started Tananarive Due’s The Reformatory, which is extraordinary; I also read Scott Carson’s The Chill, which I also loved (more on that later). I also had some ideas while I was up there for stuff that I am working on, and am looking forward to getting all that worked on in the upcoming week. I have a manuscript to edit, a manuscript to write, and all kinds of other things to work on and complete and get back to the gym so I can get myself back into better shape again and be healthier. It will help me have more energy–which now that I sleep better has also improved (well, and finally recovering completely from my surgery), and while I do know it’s unrealistic to expect to ever get back the energy I used to have, regular exercise will help decrease muscle loss with age and bone density, which is something I have to be concerned about genetically. I also find that regular exercise triggers my creativity, which is pretty fucking awesome.

I have a lot of things to do today–errands and such–and of course there are great football games on today, capped off by Alabama-LSU in Baton Rouge tonight. I also have some other posts to do–book reviews of what I read while I was gone–and I also have some thoughts about essays I want to get working on. So have a lovely Saturday, hang in there, and by all means, protect your mental health. You’re probably going to need it.

Baby the Rain Must Fall

Up far earlier than usual on a Sunday morning1, because of course, later on today I am driving to Kentucky. Twelve hours in the car, but I’ve figured out what to listen to on the drive, which is cool. I don’t know what traffic is going to be like, but that’s cool; I am also going to go a different way than I usually do–going thru Nashville instead of the nightmare that is always Chattanooga–so that will be interesting.

I was very tired yesterday morning, the way I always am on Saturday, but I got errands done and then came home to work on the house and get ready for today. We mostly watched football all day before going to bed; starting with Vanderbilt-Auburn (Auburn lost) and Mississippi-Arkansas, then Georgia-Florida, capping the night off with South Carolina’s big win over Texas A&M. The SEC is indeed crazy this season; it almost seems like no one wants to win it all this year. Now, all the one-loss and two-loss teams are going to continue knocking each other off the rest of the season, which is wild. LSU still has a chance, but they have to win out…and that won’t be easy (Alabama, Florida, Oklahoma, and Vanderbilt remain on the schedule). Interesting season, this first year of super-conferences and paying players and a play-off, hasn’t it been? All in all, a very nice, relaxing day was had by everyone in the Lost Apartment, including demon kitty Sparky–who turned himself into a love bug for the entire day. I’ve not yet packed or loaded up the car–I got up early this morning to do that specifically, as well as to add to the “I’m really tired so will sleep well tonight” feeling when I get there tonight. I’ll also be on the road for the Saints game today, so GEAUX SAINTS and I hope they do well.

It’ll be nice spending some time with Dad, resting and relaxing and reading. I don’t know if he’ll want to go do things–like sight-see historical sites in the area (I am not going to the Ark, rest assured of that)–or if we’ll end up just sitting around chatting and watching television. The weather will be similar up there to what we’re having down here, which is great as I don’t want to take a coat with me, either. I decided to finish listening to Gabino’s book in the car on the way up, move on to The Reformatory, finish reading it over the week, and then listen to Shadowlands in the car on the way home, so I can finish reading it when I get home Friday. I have a lovely weekend when I get home before I have to go back to work, and then of course it’s only a few more weeks to Thanksgiving. Paul is probably going to visit his mom for the holiday, which will give me a long weekend alone at home with Sparky, which could be a lot of fun.

And of course, once I get home from this trip I need to really get back to work on the book and everything else around here that I want to get finished by the end of the year. I need to do some research on actual hurricanes (as well as the ones that have hit New Orleans over the centuries, including from before when they got names), and I hope to spend some time brainstorming on the book’s plot. I know I want it to shift direction several times, but I am still not sure of how everything comes together and why, which is part of the fun ohf writing these types of novels, isn’t it?

And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely, lovely day, Constant Reader, and I don’t know how much I’ll be here posting this week, so hang in there without me, okay? MAKE SURE YOU VOTE.

  1. But not as early as it usually feels, thank you for the extra hour this morning, Daylight Savings Time. ↩︎

Baby I’m Yours

Remote Friday, in which I get to work at home! Woo-hoo! I kind of slept later this morning than usual, but I was also very tired yesterday. I went to my appointments, and by the time I got home from that running around I was worn down. I got a new prescription for my glasses, ordered a new pair which should arrive next week, and also saw the dermatologist. I have two more appointments to go over the next week before those are all out of the way (I’ll also have to fast and do labs before I leave for Kentucky.) I have on-line trainings to do for working at home today–I’ll start on those once I finish this and a second cup of coffee, and maybe eat some breakfast, and I also have a lot of cleaning up to do around here after I finish working. I also am planning on walking to city hall this afternoon to vote, because I understand the assignment. I also read more of Gabino’s book, which I am enjoying and savoring, and hope to get that finished this weekend. I also found my paperback of Shadowland, so I can go ahead and listen to it on my way north week after next. That is exciting, even if it will be after Halloween and Halloween Horror Month will technically be complete…but I also didn’t get to read as much this month as I would have liked, so I don’t have a problem with my horror reading spilling over into November. I think after that I am going to make an effort to read for at least an hour every night when I get home from work; I really need to get back into my love of reading, which has always sustained me for most of my life.

I also like my dermatologist, and we’re going to explore more treatment options for my psoriasis. He also shot up my elbows with some steroids to try to clear up those nasty patches of it that never go away. He did say I had minor psoriasis–which was another shot at my egocentrism; the four or five small patches on my body are nothing, really; most people have even more than that, and it’s not really considered a major problem if it’s less than fifty percent of your skin? I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids, so I’m not entirely certain I heard everything correctly. I also have to go back in a month to see how the steroid shots (some were nothing, some hurt like a motherfucker) worked, and possibly get more of them. Now that I’m older and somewhat smarter, I am using my health insurance instead of “saving” it for some ungodly reason. I was thinking about this very thing last night–how little of my adult life I’ve actually had health insurance, and how little I’ve used it once I secured it–and needing to get all of these things checked out. I am seeing a podiatrist this coming week to see if there’s anything that can be done about my feet’s pronation and the collapsed arches and so forth. I don’t want ankle replacements–knees or hips, either–but this is to see also whether I have arthritis in my big toes, too. (I have ignored my feet for far too long as an adult as well, but that’s more of a story for an essay about insurance and its importance and how it really needs more regulation than it currently has, along with insurance horror stories.)

Better late than never, right?

Paul was also late getting home last night, so I spent some quality time as a kitty bed last night in my chair for Sparky, who is getting more and more cuddly as he gets older. I spent most of the evening alternating between college football coverage and news clips; I am so much happier now that I’ve blocked the legacy media from my socials and deleted Twitter from my life. I don’t spend as much time on social media as I used to, and that maybe is the best thing that has come from the murder of Twitter; my social media addiction is far less urgent and far less important and much easier to think meh why bother? It’s really not a bad thing, and blocking everyone who is ignorant or trolling on the social media I have left is a godsend. I don’t need to know what the right is saying or doing; there’s no cellar for them to reach in their race to the bottom. Do I need to know Tucker Carlson’s creepy child spanking fantasies? No. I don’t need to know what he or his team are saying or doing to know that he’s a threat to the country and to the Republic, and the cognitive dissonance from the ‘patriots’ who also seem to hate their country–how can you be a patriot and have such flagrant contempt for your government and country? They want to elect a dictator, but they’re the real Americans. That kind of stupidity should hurt, you know?

And yes, part of the reason I want to walk to City Hall to vote today is because the Swifties have taken over New Orleans for the Eras Tour, which has three (!) shows this weekend at the Superdome. Friendship bracelets are draped over the Dome, which is totally amazing, and the Swifties have such good energy, can you blame me for wanting to be in the midst of this, and see how the CBD has done itself up for the weekend to welcome them? There were a lot of them posting about their trips down here for the shows on social media and how excited they were to not only see her but to do it during Halloween season in New Orleans? Chef’s kiss, no notes. The walk will undoubtedly wear me out, but that’s fine and I definitely could use the exercise as I try to will myself back into better physical condition. Tomorrow I’ll make groceries and clean and read and watch football games. I did get most of the dishes done last night, and need to clean out the refrigerator today at some point. I’m kind of looking forward to this last weekend of peace and quiet and writing and reading and college football–and getting caught up on our shows tonight. Huzzah!

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

There really is nothing sexier than black underwear.

I’m Telling You Now

Wednesday morning of Pay-the-Bills day, which is always a pleasant day, much as I loathe paying the bills I am just grateful that I can pay the bills; I’ll never not be grateful for that. I remember all too well the days when paying the bills was a nightmare, there wasn’t enough to cover everything and buy groceries…and there were late fees and so on and ugh, you never could ever just breathe easy and catch up. Once you get behind financially, it becomes exponentially harder to ever get caught up. One of the reasons I never address financial concerns in my work is because it’s too hauntingly familiar for me, and I don’t really like remembering those days very much. That’s not good–and not really true entirely; I have written about working class/the working poor in short stories, which is about as long as I can handle it. Of course, now that I’ve said that, I’m thinking I do need to write about someone poor or working class in a book sometime, so I can process the shame of my poverty-stricken past. I’ve also been thinking about this because I am writing an essay about my first job (McDonald’s; can’t imagine why I’ve been thinking about that lately, can you?), and that has also brought back the memories of being one of the working poor for so long, and all the money worries, and everything else that went along with it1. I’ve had some pretty awful jobs…but the only thing worse than having an awful job was looking for another awful job I would grow to hate.

Ugh, those low wage job years were the worst. It’s no wonder I had so little self-esteem. Scrounging in the couch for change to get a burger at McDonald’s. Going through the car looking for change. Nothing in the cupboards to eat, no money in my wallet and no money in the bank, but super hungry. Lots of eating macaroni and cheese in the blue box, any flavor of ramen, and buying store brand deodorants and shampoos and shaving cream. Not being able to afford an oil change for the car, or a new tire should one go flat. To this day, I have food anxiety, where I’m scared there won’t be anything in the house for us to eat and nothing in the cupboards and no money. This led to a small scale hoarding situation with me and food; in which I am always stocking up on dried stuff so there’s always something I can make to eat. I have canned baked beans and boxes and boxes of Lipton’s Double Noodle Soup and all sorts of things that I hoard…but I’ve managed to stop buying more of these things, and have cut back on buying more than we need. There’s still more than needs to be done in the kitchen cabinets and in the grocery stores, and I am still working on the food anxiety. There are also any number of Asian vinegars and wines and sauces for cooking in there that had probably gone bad over the years.

Sigh.

I slept well again last night, which feels great this morning. I have tomorrow off because I have appointments during the day, which is going to be weird–especially since Friday is my work-at-home day; my weekend is going to be all messed up and potentially my week next week, too. I have some errands to run tonight after work, too. I didn’t do much of anything once I was home last night–big plans often come to naught in the Lost Apartment on weekday nights–but today I am planning, again, to get some things done. I need to finish working on the Scotty Bible, which is the plan for this weekend. I also need to get started revising the first seven chapters and fixing them for the continuation of the book next week before I leave for Kentucky. Funny how I always have big plans for the evening in the morning that so rarely come to fruition, isn’t it? But by the time I negotiate traffic on the way home, I am usually a bit tired when I get home to begin with–and then when Sparky keeps insisting on needing a lap (like Scooter used to) I’ll sit down for a moment and then am down for the evening because he’s so deeply asleep and so cute–he sometimes purrs in his sleep–that I don’t want to disturb him. Last night he was back to normal completely and over his sulks; he pounced on me several times and wanted to play with some Big Kitten Energy after he was done napping. I have a busy morning at the office today, but it’s not that terrible, and of course I have to make two stops on the way home today, which isn’t a big deal but also might be an issue about being tired when I finally park and go inside.

I also decided that I am going to Kentucky the first week of November, so I don’t have to listen to horror on the way there or back. I think I will listen to Shadowland on the way home from up there, because it’s thirteen or so hours long and I have the ebook on my iPad so I can finish it when I get back to New Orleans. (I thought I had a paperback copy, but can’t seem to find it.) But since October and Halloween will be over by then, I am not bound by my “only horror reading in October” rule. I want to finish reading Gabino’s book this weekend, too. I think there are some good games on this weekend; LSU is playing Texas A&M at night to see who will be alone on top of the conference standings. The day games are not the greatest, but there’s Missouri at Alabama and Texas at Vanderbilt (!!!) and Oklahoma at Mississippi, so not anything terribly involving unless they turn out to be great games…and there have been a lot of those this season. I didn’t know what to expect from this season of new everything and big changes, but so far it’s been a lot of fun.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Pay-the-Bills Day, and I might be back later, one never can be sure!

  1. The only luxury item I never did without was books. I would always spend money on books because that was something just for me, and for me alone. I also really resented having jobs where I had to consider books as luxury items I technically should have done without. ↩︎

I Know a Place

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well. I slept incredibly last night. I woke up at seven and stayed in bed relaxing in a half-sleep for another hour or so, and finally got up when Sparky woke up and decided he was hungry. He was delayed this morning–and was very calm and cuddly and sleepy yesterday–because of the vaccines he got yesterday, as well as the shock to his system of leaving the apartment. He likes his carrier–he’ll go in there on his own, and Paul often tells him to go get in the crate when he’s having Big Kitten Energy, which he does–but he finally started meowing yesterday when we took him outside in the crate. He’s never meowed before, only chirped, which worried me a bit…but now he’s done it so I guess he only meows when he’s unhappy. His nails were trimmed (which he also didn’t like this time), but we brought him home to be a sleepy, cuddly sweet kitty for the rest of the night. We also went to Costco yesterday, which was nice and a little tiring. We watched Skate America last night (ladies and pairs short programs) and of course, today is a football all day kind of day. LSU plays at Arkansas tonight, and of course Alabama-Tennessee is this afternoon’s game. I am going to take books to the library sale this morning and go to the grocery store today before I come home to watch games for the rest of the day. There’s also some cleaning I can do around here this morning, too. Yippee!

I’m also going to read some more of Gabino’s book this morning; I read some while Sparky and Paul were with the vet yesterday and I just love the way he writes, in this interesting combination of Jim Thompson crossed with some John D. MacDonald but heavily flavored and filtered through his own remarkable talent in a unique voice that is entirely his own. It’s very rare to come across a writer with a voice and style so strikingly original, and the pacing is ethereal but also fast at the same time. I loved his last book, and I am absolutely loving this own. Next weekend I’ll be heading up to Kentucky to see Dad for about a week, so I can listen to another horror novel in the car (maybe Shadowland by Peter Straub, which I’ve not read before. I can take the paperback with me if the audio book is too long for a twelve hour drive; I actually just went to Audible and got Nick Cutter’s The Troop, and saw that I had a Riley Sager already downloaded, so that’s the trip up and back sorted. I also got the Straub), and I can take some horror with me to read. I’ll make shrimp tempura for dinner tonight, and am kind of torn about making chili or not tomorrow, but will probably go ahead and do so; I may even make it over night so tomorrow morning I can just get up and put it in the refrigerator. That’ll sort my lunches for the week, methinks.

I also managed to get the majority of the dishes done yesterday, no small feat I might add. That’ll teach me to be lazy when I get home from work every day, won’t it? It seemed endless, and I was also doing the bed linens at the same time as well as unpacking Costco and putting everything away; the living room is, even now, filled with empty boxes that need to go out this morning. I need to revise that short story and start working on another one for the Bouchercon anthology open call; I picked out the story just have to finish it now, which is also no easy chore. But today is an official day off from everything other than relaxation, reading and some cleaning around the house. I’ll try to reread the story I’ve selected; I just need to remember to channel my rage at developments in the neighborhood and on my street–this is one of the reasons I love being a writer, petty revenge on people who’ll never even know they inspired me to kill them in fiction–and retrieve that voice from deep inside my head. I think one of the problems I’ve had with some of the stories I’ve been writing lately is I’ve been too lazy to write about people the way they really are, instead of an idealized character who is logical and rational and then simply snaps. It’s that breakdown of going from law-abiding to murderous that I live to explore–it worked really well in “Neighborhood Alert”–but in some of the noirish stories I’ve been trying to write and sell since the pandemic they come across as too cheerful; bitterness and rage is what drives my stories, and the tone and voice need to reflect that.

Tone and voice are key to whether your story works or not.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later. GEAUX TIGERS!

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Is It Wrong (For Loving You)

Well, that was a fun, if tiring, weekend..

I got to the hotel after dark Friday and felt very tired. Dad had gone to his alma mater’s football game with two of his teammates (I started to say old in the generic sense and then realized Dad IS old and so are they so best not to, or at least write a caveat so here we are). It was a peaceful, lovely drive and I was listening to my audiobook (Paul Tremblay’s Survivor Song and I HAVE THOUGHTS), and there wasn’t much traffic, if any. It was a beautiful drive, and I never cease marveling at how beautiful Mississippi and Alabama are. I had planned on stopping to eat at the Whataburger in Tuscaloosa, but for some reason the map app did not take me that way this time; it seems like I never come up here or leave the same way twice in a row. It always takes the same amount of time, though it’s been interesting seeing parts of both states I am not familiar with. I almost stopped at a Jack’s in some small town I passed through after leaving 20/591; but I thought there would be somewhere else before getting here.

NARRATOR VOICE: There was, in fact, nowhere else.

I always forget how little there is between Meridian and Tuscaloosa, or between Birmingham and Chattanooga. It’s best to eat when you get hungry, and get gas before you get down to a quarter tank else you could be fucked. I know I’ve been ravenous sometimes when I’ve had to wait till past Chattanooga to eat, and same for going up from Mobile to Montgomery. It’s weird to feel so anchored to Alabama, isn’t it? I don’t remember living here; I was two when we moved north. We came down to visit a lot, and I know for Mom and Dad (and my grandmother who also lived in Chicago) they always referred to these trips as “going home” and so I, too, have always thought of Alabama as home in a corner of my mind. I never felt like I belonged almost everywhere I lived once I became more aware of just how different I was from everyone else. I felt displaced, like my life was supposed to have happened in Alabama but it didn’t, so in addition to feeling different I felt almost like a transient everywhere. New Orleans is home now, was always meant to be my home, and I have never felt more like I belonged than I do there. I think my life would have been very different had I grown up here, maybe even harder or more difficult; I don’t know. New Orleans and Alabama are, oddly enough, the only places where I don’t feel like a tourist.

I’ve always written about Alabama, and I do sometimes think that somehow my Alabama stories are my best work, as far as the writing is concerned. The story I’m revising right now was the first work I turned into a college writing class (after the first course I took was such a horrific, unmitigated disaster that basically pulled the rug out from under me and derailed my life for years) that not only the professor was incredibly enthusiastic about, but the entire class was as well. This was the story that made me start believing in myself a bit more after the asshole professor derailed my life2 when I was seventeen. Anyway, I digress. Driving through the countryside after getting off the interstate up there always is weird to me in many ways, because it’s so different than I remember. When I was a kid, most houses in the county were old and made of wood, and there were still tin roofs around, although mostly on barns and out buildings on the farms. Now the houses are mostly brick, there are a lot of McMansions, but there are still a lot of blighted buildings rotting and falling to pieces where they stand. There are abandoned country stores and dead gas stations, the store built from cinder blocks and the rusting pumps still out on a crumbling concrete island. It’s also funny because I wrote Bury Me in Shadows from memory, having not been up there in over twenty years, and seeing the differences now…I guess I never had to worry overmuch about basing that book in a county based on where we’re from, and the differences are so striking no one would recognize it as the same.

Saturday I went with Dad to his high school reunion lunch, which was at a nice restaurant where we always eat every time I’m up there (they have the most amazing chicken fajitas), and that was nice. We headed back to the hotel after and spent the rest of the day watching college football games. The LSU game was amazing, but they sent me into despair a lot during the night. They won the game without ever having the lead! A bitterly disappointing loss for Mississippi (how many times have their dreams died in Tiger Stadium? It’s really no wonder why they hate us so much), but a very exciting game. The Tigers are now ranked in the top ten–which is great, but a big win does not a season make, if you know what I mean–and the rest of the schedule isn’t easy, either. Two road games in a row, then Alabama before one more road game at Florida before finishing out the season with two home games in a row. There has been a lot of great football games this season already, which has made it a lot more fun to watch than it has been in years. Saturday alone, there was the LSU game; Alabama-South Carolina (Alabama eked out a two point win); Tennessee beating Florida in overtime; Penn State-USC went to overtime; Oregon beat Ohio State by one point; and Vanderbilt kept up its winning ways by beating Kentucky. I ain’t going to lie, I am rooting for Vanderbilt to have a great season.

Yesterday I drove home, finished listening to Survivor Song, and then listened to the “My Dad Wrote a Porno”. I was very tired when I got home, very tired, so I spent the day in my chair getting caught up on the news from the weekend before we started getting caught up on our shows. I went to bed early and slept well–I was tired all weekend, but had slept well both nights, but not long enough. I did sleep a little later this morning (I took the day off) than I was expecting (but I also woke up at 5:30 the first time), and feel good. There’s still some residual trip hangover today, but I don’t mind that in the least. The apartment is a mess–I left it one when I left Friday afternoon, and so that needs to be handled today and I am also going to have to run some errands and get reoriented back into normality before heading back into the office tomorrow morning bright and early. I also have some things that I need to get done today–probably will be able to get all that done this afternoon–and then probably will settle into a relaxing evening. We started watching season four of Outer Banks last night, so we’ll watch some of that I am sure.

I didn’t have time to do much reading or writing this weekend, either, but I feel like today I can get to some of that. I do want to finish Gabino’s book this week, so I can move on to another as well.

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

  1. The two highways run together from Meridian to almost Georgia–somewhere in northeast Alabama at any rate; it really is always mostly a blur. ↩︎
  2. I also realized this weekend that horrible professor fucked up my life for a very long time, and I’ve never given him enough credit for unmooring me and setting me adrift. I’ve always hated him, but now I hate him even more, and what an abuse of power and control! He shouldn’t have been allowed near students under any circumstance. ↩︎

Love is Like a Butterfly

Tuesday morning and I feel good again. I was very tired when I got home from work yesterday (my supervisor being in Europe is just as stressful as I suspected it would be), and just kind of chilled out last night. I did start outlining what I’ve already written on the Scotty, and I did start looking at stories for this anthology I am going to try to submit something for–I think I can finally change and edit a certain story that’s been in my files for decades. We started watching the new Menendez Brothers documentary on Netflix last night, and will probably finish it tonight. And despite the stress of yesterday morning, I did manage to get all my work done at the office, so I am pretty caught up.

I am going to Alabama this weekend; I heard from Dad and so I am going to drive up there after work on Friday, and come back home on Sunday; a short visit with Dad and then back home. I am going to go up to Kentucky later this month; I need to reschedule some things, but that’s all do-able.

I just looked at the Hurricane Milton updates and am very worried about all my friends who live in Florida. I lived in Tampa for five years in the nineties, when I worked for Continental Airlines; yes, the Tampa airport is the airport where I worked, with the white shirt with epaulets and the navy blue pants and the name tag. (The opening scene of The Orion Mask is set at Tampa Airport; my main character was an airline employee.) We never had anything really major happen there of a tropical nature when I lived there, so it was never anything I worried about before moving to New Orleans. I think about the barrier islands in Tampa Bay, and how narrow the peninsula that St. Petersburg sits on actually is; it’s not impossible that this monster storm could wipe a lot of that area clean. I remain hopeful that somehow this won’t be the coming disaster it appears to be; I can’t even imagine how bad the best case scenario could be. There was significant wind damage to New Orleans with Katrina, which people tend to forget about because of the catastrophic flood that ensued when the levees failed. Roofs will come off, trees will be uprooted and flung about with great force; if it’s as strong as they are saying it could be when it comes ashore, the wind could move cars. I hope everyone gets out that is able. It turns my stomach to think about what could happen there. I hope none of it comes to pass–but I am also realistic. I hope everyone I care about who lives in Florida was able to get out and is okay, and worst case scenarios do not come to pass.

I think I’m going to take Gabino with me to Alabama, and I was looking for a horror novel to listen to in the car, and I am leaning towards listening to Paul Tremblay’s Survivor Song or The Pallbearer’s Club. I do love his writing, though, so it’s fun to read Tremblay; but I do love his work and he’s probably one of my favorite horror writers of this current epoch of horror fiction. I’ll have to pick out some more later for the trip up to Kentucky.1 It seems a bit surreal to be thinking about trips and such things–the minutiae of life–while destruction looms for Florida, doesn’t it? (And what does this mean for the Florida football team? They are on the road at Tennessee this weekend, but supposed to be playing at home the following weekend; I suspect that game will be moved to Lexington.) It’ll be hot without power, but at least October is cooler than August or September. Small favors, indeed.

And on that sad note, I am heading into the spice mines. Keep everyone in the path of the storm in your thoughts, and send some positivity their way–and hope they won’t need it.

  1. It also just occurred to me that I am being counter-intuitive with the trip up there; there’s certainly no reason for me to go from weekend to weekend; I can also go during the week and come back the following week. I hate being so obtuse as to think that ‘trip for a week’ means Sunday to Sunday. ↩︎

She Called Me Baby

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, with a trip to Metairie looming for an eye appointment. Yesterday was a bit more hectic than I would have liked, beginning with having to go in to the office on what is usually my remote day (meetings, mostly, and some catch up on work I didn’t get to on Thursday), and then I had errands to run all afternoon. It was a gloomy, off and on raining kind of day, so when I got home I was very happy to be safely back into the Lost Apartment so I could do my chores and do some work. I was very tired last night when I was finished with everything, so just kind of zonked out in my chair. We spent the last few nights getting caught up on our shows (we’re now watching Agatha All Along, Bad Monkey, Only Murders in the Building, Grotesquerie, English Teacher, and American Sports Story), and I am hoping to get to watch the new ‘salem’s Lot movie aat some point this weekend, and I’d like to watch Fall Guy, too.

And I need to write this weekend, big time.

Thursday night, when I was working on the Scotty Bible and was marking pages in Mississippi River Mischief, I realized the murder victim in the book was a corrupt politician who goes by JD; prescience, perhaps? It also reminded me of something from a book I had read a very long time ago–Sarah Schulman’s Stagestruck. The thesis of the book was about the similarities between a very popular Broadway musical (Rent) and her nove, People in Trouble. Sarah had actually attended and reviewed Rent, and while it seemed familiar to her, she just dismissed it as being inspired by the struggling artist scene in lower Manhattan in the 1980s and thought it played very false, given her own experience; it wasn’t until later when a friend told her “you must be so mad about Rent”–and she went back and reread her book. (In all honesty, I went on to read People in Trouble and also watched the film of Rent and I also saw the similarities; she wasn’t inventing anything.) But the point of this particular story is that at the time, as an unpublished aspiring novelist, I found it a bit of a reach that she didn’t remember her own book…but doing the Scotty Bible–and talking with other authors–I realized that not remembering your own book isn’t that much of a stretch, and it does get harder the more book you have; the exponential possibility that you won’t remember your own books grows with each new book you write. that the piece of art basically ripped off her piece of art–and she couldn’t remember much I have been routinely shocked about how much of the Scotty series had slipped from my memory banks as I enter the information from each book into the master document; the huge plot points that are the most memorable things about them…but gone completely. I’d forgotten my villainous politician JD, and I only wrote that book last year. I’d forgotten a lot of the stuff in most of the books. I thought the one I’d really be able to temember was Bourbon Street Blues, and nope. I’d forgotten about the entire sequence in the swamp, the fire, and who the first victim was…and I also was able to remember, while going through it, what I was trying to do with him as a character as more time passed and he gained more experience with criminality and human behavior.

And given all those experiences, it was very important to me to ensure he remained a positive person who prefers to expect the best of people, not the worst, and never become cynical. Cynicism was one of the most powerful traits I wrote into Chanse, and I didn’t want to do that over again.

It was also rainy and dreary all day yesterday, and much as I love rain, it can damper your spirits a little especially when you’re already a bit fatigued. But I am feeling good today (I slept really late this morning) and like I can get a lot accomplished. I am going to make groceries on the way home from my eye appointment. I am going to run an errand in my neighborhood on foot when I get back from that, and I am going to try to get the house cleaned up and do some writing this afternoon while football games play in the living room. I also want to read some more of Gabino’s book and get more into it. Tomorrow morning I will run another errand that I don’t want to do much today–Fresh Market is close so it’s an easy thing to do…maybe I can run it later today and get it over with, but I suspect after getting home from the errands today I won’t want to leave the house so much.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up so I can get moving on the errands and the other things to get done around the house. Have a lovely Saturday, best of luck to your favorite team, and I am heading into the spice mines. I might be back later; I am itching to finish my review of Monsters, and the Menendez Brothers in general.

Another Lonely Song

Friday morning and have to go into the office for a number of meetings and things today, but hope to get out of there around 2ish to run errands and head home. Huzzah! I slept well last night (and all the way through; didn’t get up once) and feel pretty terrific this morning. Maybe it was the bellinis I had with dinner last night? Perhaps.

Yesterday was lovely. I had a nice day at work, then came home and wrote before my dinner plans. I managed to finish Chapter 7, which was enormously pleasing, and then went to meet my friend for dinner. Look at me, out on a school night and having two drinks with dinner! But it was very nice. Lilette, the restaurant on Magazine where we had dinner, is marvelous; I always have a good time whenever I have a meal there. The conversation was also quite fabulous; and it was a very contented Gregalicious who got home from dinner around eight thirty. Paul and I watched another episode of American Sports Story; it’s an interesting exploration of toxic masculinity in sport, and how damaging that was for someone like Aaron Hernandez, deeply closeted and so terrified anyone might ever find out. (I did wonder what Tim Tebow would have said to him if Aaron had told him the truth–I think we know, and what a shame there wasn’t a single person in his life he could be honest with.) It’s very well done (although some of the reproductions of Florida football games were clearly reproductions and not actual game footage; it may have even been CGI but it didn’t look real), and the acting is, as always and ever in a Ryan Murphy show, superb. The young man playing Hernandez is quite good. It’s also quite excellent at showing what a monster Urban Meyer is as a coach, and how little he actually cared about his players (every time I think that Urban Meyer had Joe Burrow on the bench, wasting his talent for two years, I smile); I have never liked nor trusted that man. He’s clearly a good coach–he won three national titles at two different schools–but he’s not the kind of coach whose players speak well of him–and his teams at Florida were clearly out of control. (He also had Cam Newton on the bench at Florida; that’s two Heisman Trophy winning quarterbacks who rode the bench for him.)

I do have some errands to run after work; I have to get the mail and pick up prescriptions and maybe do a bit of a grocery run. I also have laundry to do once I get home, and then I think I’ll be in for the day. I have another writer friend in town this weekend that I am hoping to get to see, so I think I’ll try to do that tomorrow. I also want to work on the book some more this weekend, and start playing around with the next one I want to write. I want to finish reading Gabino’s new book–I started it last weekend, and it’s off to a really powerful start. It grabs you by the throat and won’t let you look away, no matter how badly you might want to!

I also have some cleaning up to do around here as well. It never really ends, does it? At least my filing it pretty much caught up, and I certainly can’t let the inbox stack up the way it has in the past. Staying on top of things is usually the smart thing to do…but I sometimes get lazy, particularly if I’m tired; that’s when I really don’t want to do anything when I get home except catch up on the news. I am so much happier now that I’ve blocked every news source that started the “get rid of Biden” nonsense in July; the age and mental acuity of a presidential candidate ceased to be an issue in this election once the President dropped out, despite the patentedly obvious decline of the Republican candidate, not to mention his planned vengeance tour if he wins. After doing everything they could to ensure Hillary lost in 2016, they have the nerve to continue to both-sides everything while pretending this is a normal horse race election because they are a national and historical disgrace, the New York Times editorial board endorsed the Vice-President while continuing their horrendous, clearly partisan reporting.

Your words are hollow when you are sane-washing an incredibly dangerous narcissist. It’s not what you say, but what you actually do, and I will never forgive nor forget their collaborationist quisling bullshit as long as I live.

So, after work today I am going to go run those errands and then come home to be productive. I have my to-do list ready to have things checked off, and there’s some writing that definitely needs to be done this weekend. Next weekend I may be meeting Dad in Alabama, and will probably head up to Kentucky for a week around Halloween; not sure when that would be, but it’s on the schedule.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines on this rainy Friday morning. Have a great day, and I may be back later; I’m tricky that way.