Tag: health

Ghosts

Sunday morning. It’s yet another incredibly bright and sunny morning, and I slept late yet again this morning. Sparky let me sleep till past eight again this morning, and now I am up–a little bleary-eyed, but awake. I didn’t get a lot (anything) done yesterday, and who knows? I may not be able to today, either. There’s nothing wrong with being tired and taking a day of, as we all know, and my lack of anxiety in general is making it less necessary for me to make excuses for myself, or rationalize doing nothing. I mean, I cooked and everything, doesn’t that count? I broiled some chicken tenders to keep on hand and so I can make jambalaya at some point this week, and I also have the makings for some potato leek soup. I spent some time icing my Achilles tendons, which made them less achy and sore–they are a bit this morning, too, so will be icing them again this morning. My legs are bone-tired this morning too–they were yesterday, but this morning they don’t ache like they did yesterday. I really need to get going on building up my stamina again. As for today, I am not making plans. I have my lengthy to-do list, after all, and I do need to pick up some around here, too. If I read, I read; if I write, I write…but am not terribly worried about anything.

Better living through chemistry is so the way to go, Constant Reader.

I hear Sparky creeping around somewhere–which means he might be in attack/play mode; so I might be attacked at any moment. He really is the most adorable kitty, and it’s cute (if bloody and painful) when he goes into apex predator attack beast mode.

I was exhausted almost the entire day yesterday. I slept late, as I mentioned yesterday morning, but was physically worn down; the combination of walking so much when I am not used to it, plus the end of the week. After I posted yesterday morning, I took my coffee and a piece of king cake into the living room with me, determined to do some reading after I caught up on the latest insanities in the news. It pleased me to no end to see the Olympic crowd at the opening ceremonies cheering for our athletes as they walked into the stadium only to have the cheers turned to boos as Pseudonym and Wife appeared on the Jumbotron. Best get used to it, Vances–this is the rest of your miserable grifting fucking lives. Paul came down early to watch the figure skating with me, and we went from the Olympics to finishing His and Hers (a lot of fun, with a great surprise twist) and then this week’s The Beauty. (I was highly amused to see that Vincent D’onofrio was the “before” for Ashton Kutcher’s character; once the transformation was complete, Paul said, “why didn’t it give him an ass?”) I was very tired, and fell asleep in my chair for a couple of hours in the late afternoon/early evening, and then we watched Twinless, with Dylan O’Brien, which was really good but also very sad.

I am not as exhausted and tired as I was yesterday physically, but I might head out to the corner to watch King Arthur–which has lots of gay riders so I get a lot of stuff thrown at me–later this afternoon, depending on how I feel. I also have to walk over to Walgreens this morning to buy some bread and ice cream and chips or something to snack on; I am going to not worry about my weight until after Mardi Gras. I don’t know how cold it is outside, either–it’s very sunny, though–but I think I am going to ice my legs for awhile before I do anything.

And on that tedious note, I am heading into the living room to read while I ice my ankles. May your Sunday be a fun day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning before the sun rise.

The Nightmare

Saturday morning and there are a ridiculous amount of parades today out at the corner–Pontchartrain, Freret, Mars, and Choctaw during the day, followed by Sparta and Pygmalion, which is crazy–next Saturday there are only two. Nevertheless, I slept in this morning before an insistent cat demanded I get up and feed His Majesty just after eight, so I tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee. My legs are a bit achy this morning (more on that later), and I am also very physically tired. Mentally I am good–or what passes for it around here again–so I think this morning is going to be a “read in my chair under a blanket while resting” kind of morning. As for the parades today, well, it looks beautiful outside again this morning (yesterday was stunningly beautiful and got up into the 70s; today is supposed to be slightly cooler but yesterday was also not supposed to get that hot–we had to switch the air system from heat (it wasn’t on) to cool last evening; it was 78 degrees upstairs! I also wound up falling asleep in my easy chair, waking up just before midnight to head up to bed. I woke up feeling tired yesterday morning, and after running my chores–and dealing with Carnival traffic all over Uptown–I was done with everything. When Paul got home from the gym, I was like, we can go to Costco Tuesday night after work and he agreed.

I did watch some of the Olympic figure skating yesterday (the crowd booing the Vances at the opening ceremonies needs to be done as a reel so it can be replayed over and over again–it’s not just Americans that hate them, and it’s always lovely for them to be reminded they are pariahs all over the world), which was lovely. The men’s team short program is today, as is the ice dance final. I do love the Olympics, and I am glad that the fans in attendance–at least thus far–are showing respect and love to our athletes while despising our leadership. If only most Americans were capable of that sort of discernment…

I walked to dinner with a friend last night, which is why my legs are achy this morning–they aren’t used to that much exercise and are complaining about it to me today. I got my marvelous ice machine down from the attic yesterday and used it on the Achilles tendons, which helped tremendously. I also changed the inserts in my shoes, so the walking wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be. We met at Pesche, in the CBD on the corner of Julia and Magazine–and walked back up Magazine to Terpsichore before cutting over to Coliseum Square and then home. I had not been to Pesche before–I’ve driven past any number of times–and highly recommend. I had the hushpuppies, an interesting dirty martini with both vodka AND gin in it, with a sprig of dill; called a “Mother of Pearl,” and ground shrimp with noodles, which was insanely delicious–imagine flat noodles covered in a red sauce with shrimp ground up like hamburger in it. I need to figure out how to make that at home, frankly, because it was fucking amazing. I was pretty tired physically by the time I was slipping my key into the gate while a marching band passed at the corner–one of those Carnival season things that always makes me smile. It is inconvenient but I do love parade season and living inside the box. Despite the aggravation of all the traffic and stupidity that went along with it as I drove around, I did kind of get a kick out of seeing people driving around with their Carnival colored ladders in back, or watching people set up their viewing spaces along the Avenue and along Napoleon, too. There really is no resisting Carnival, no matter how much you try, unless you literally leave town for it all.

And this is just the warm-up. Everything kicks into gear this coming Wednesday night.

And on that brief note, I am getting another cup of coffee, a slice of King cake, and heading for my easy chair and the ice machine. Have a marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

If I Were You

Wednesday! We have almost made it to the weekend…and parade season. I don’t know why I bother thinking I can get anything done during the parade days. We’re going to try to make a Costco run on Friday and get back home before the streets close; I also have dinner plans and will have to walk there. I slept really well last night, as I was very tired when I got off from work and after running errands on my way home from the office. It’s raining–supposed to clear by nine, with no more rain for the rest of the day, and we’re back to normal February weather after the rain ends–fifties and sixties for the first parade weekend. I think the rain had something to do with the good, deep sleep, because rain always makes me sleep deeply. But I am awake, feel rested, and that’s good. I dragged some yesterday, hitting a wall in the afternoon so had to fight the urge to not run the errands after work, but I somehow managed. But it was a pretty good day at work, I stayed current on everything and caught up on a few things. I even forced myself to finish the laundry and get to work on the dishes, but forgot to run the dishwasher before i went up to bed, so will turn it on when I head out to the office.

It’s weird to feel so awake and rested in the middle of the week, but we’ll see if I can make it through the day without hitting a wall, won’t we?

But I picked up an insane amount of prescriptions yesterday, and we had a lot of mail, too. My injectable medication arrived, so I got it home and refrigerated. We watched His and Hers, and a lot of the news, to get a grasp on what is going on. the country and it seems almost completely insane–but it has for many, many years. It is interesting watching white people wake up to the hell they’ve wrought upon us all. I particularly enjoyed watching one Chad Watts of Kyle, Texas, getting his ass kicked by kids he attacked yesterday–he naturally went nowhere near the boys, the BIG MAN got out of his truck, pushed a girl down and started swinging on another. The girls were handling themselves well by beating the snot out of him, but their fellow protesters were NOT TODAY SATAN NOT TODAY and turned Mr. Big Man–who clearly only attacks those he perceives as weaker–into a fucking example. Generation Z and Alpha are not having it, and I am with them. These are the kids who’ve grown up since babyhood aware that the rest of the country was perfectly fine with them being slaughtered at school, so are we really surprised they learned run, hide, fight in kindergarten? An adult comes for a group of kids, they are ALL going to come for you because that’s what our gun culture required them to be taught as soon as they could walk. So, seeing a pro-gun MAGA getting his ass kicked by a group of high school kids around the age of fourteen? Chef’s kiss, no notes. These kids have spent their entire lives being wary of being shot in class and you think they’re going to be right wing? Their future has also been throttled, we’re busy polluting the world they have to live in (not to mention all the climate change stuff), and they are aware they may never own a house, have a career, or a family because of the world the previous generation has left for them.

Funny how “but the children”” not only doesn’t apply to making sure they have clean water, healthy food, or clean air to breathe, but their futures. But then the “but the children” people don’t think pedophilia is a un-crossable line, either–despite their trying to blame all queer people for it, right, Chaya, you fucking syphilitic skank? How DO you feel about being played for a fool these last ten years, or let me guess–you’re ploughing ahead with full steam despite the truth slapping you repeatedly in your hideously evil face. I really do need to kill her off in a book soon, don’t I?

Hmmm.

I did actually finish and send out a newsletter yesterday (you can read it here, if you like), about putting together the Scotty Bible to help with continuity issues with the series. I want to do two more, with the second going out on release day (February 10, for the record) and the other maybe between now and then. I did work on my short story a bit yesterday, too, so I am getting back in the saddle of slow going again. Anything, however, is better than nothing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope your Wednesday is marvelous as you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here again tomorrow morning.

New Orleans really spoils us when it comes to parades. Every other parade now seems dull and pointless.

Rock a Little

Monday morning and it’s back to the spice mines with me this morning. There are worse things I could do, one supposes. The cold has arrived; it’s only 29 outside and I can absolutely tell as I swill coffee and shiver a bit here at my home workspace. Sparky has been glued to me since I got up–although why he isn’t cuddled up with Paul in the bed is indeed a mystery to me; that’s where I’d be if the alarm hadn’t gone off and I could have slept another few hours, comfy and cozy and warm under my pile of blankets. But I am awake, it’s not terribly cold inside (it could be worse) and we didn’t lose power, which is a big plus. That was my primary concern–the loss of power and no heat, like that year we didn’t have heat and it froze on Mardi Gras day. Shiver. That was beyond miserable, and not an experience I would like to relive at any point in my life.

This is my first full week of work this year so far–I think; there may have been one earlier that I’ve forgotten about, but it’s been a hot minute since I’ve had to go into the office four days in a row. I don’t think I have to work in the clinic this morning, but have been wrong before. Either way, it’ll be fine. I do hope Dad and the rest of my family in Kentucky have power and are safe and warm and staying inside. They are–I just checked the power outage map up there. Whew. It’s really not feeling too terribly cold this morning; despite the low temperature, but my hips, ankles and Achilles tendons are aching this morning. The most fun thing about being old when it gets cold is these aches I never used to have.

I found myself in a bit of malaise yesterday; more of an emotional exhaustion than anything else. The state of the country and the world just got to be a bit overwhelming for me this weekend–the existential horror of everything was a bit too much and it kind of got to me. What can I say? How are you coping with the daily burning of the Constitution by the fascist administration? I couldn’t focus to write–I did take some notes, but when thinking about anything that I am currently writing, it just seemed kind of pointless and frivolous. I know we need art and literature to help people get through these horrifying times, and feeling and expressing and creating joy in dark times can be a beacon of hope for people trying to cope…but sometimes, I just need to accept that it’s overwhelming and sometimes it causes paralysis. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday other than do some dishes and just mindlessly watch political commentary or old sports highlights or history videos while paging through a non-fiction history (The Fall of the Dynasties, to be exact). I did watch the I Want My MTV documentary–the cultural impact of MTV in the 1980s cannot ever be overestimated–which was kind of fun and had me remembering the early days of it and how we were all addicted to it back then.

One of the few bright spots of this year so far has been the enormous reception to Heated Rivalry, and how its two young stars–Connor Storie and Hudson Williams–have become global superstars in a matter of weeks. I was happy to see they got to carry the Olympic torch in Italy, which was incredibly cool for them. I wish them nothing but the best, and I have to say that I am absolutely delighted for them both, for the show, and the representation. Can we also drop the “but it was written by a woman!” nonsense? Regardless of the politics of who writes who and what is or isn’t cultural appropriation and so forth–which is far too nuanced to be discussed in 120 characters or whatever the fuck the limit is on those Twitter-style social media apps–can’t we just enjoy the fact that a show about two men falling in love is the hottest thing on the planet right now? Can we stop being concerned about straight people watching and their opinions, and whether or not they’re pandering for views or clicks?

I would like to take a moment to remind everyone that the biggest selling gay novel of the modern post-Stonewall era was The Front Runner by Patricia Nell Warren? I knew Patricia very well, and I can assure you that she was definitely not a man.

Heavy sigh.

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me for the day. Wish me luck on the day–who knows what it will bring in its wake. I’ll be back tomorrow, though. No worries!

Imperial Hotel

Sunday morning! It’s seventy degrees outside this morning, with the cold front not quite here yet; it’s going to start raining soon (per the forecast) which is part of the front’s arrival, along with shockingly low temperatures later on today. It looks very gray outside, the ground is wet, and I am incredibly happy I don’t have to leave the apartment today other than to take the recycling out, which I should do right now before the rain gets here. Hang on, I’ll be right back.

Okay, I’m back. My legs are strangely tired and a bit sore this morning–the Achilles tendons in particular again–so I think when I finish this I might do some stretching, which I should start doing regularly again. I never really had to when I was younger–being naturally freakishly flexible meant I didn’t need to, but it was bad to never develop a regular stretching routine. I wonder, if now that my anxiety is under control, maybe the gym won’t be such an anxious experience for me. I’d conquered gym fear back in 1995, but after so long away from it I always had that anxiety whenever I would go back and try to get done as quickly as possible. I am going to return after Carnival and hopefully stick to it; I definitely need more stamina, and I’d like to shave off some extra weight (but without the assistance of the damned ulcerative colitis, of course). I know I’ll feel better the stronger and healthier I get, too.

Yesterday was definitely a day of odd energy. I got up a little later than I should have, and wasn’t as motivated as I had hoped. I would be. I think it was partly the oncoming storm on the horizon that was unsettling? I did run some errands (seven boxes of books to the library sale) and had some things delivered. I also braved the grocery store the day before a horrible winter storm descends upon us here in southeastern Louisiana. It was pretty hectic and crowded, and the check out lines were lengthy. But they were checking people out with a high degree of efficiency (for once), so it didn’t take nearly as long as I had feared it might. It was a very gray day, too–it was just gray and windy and chilly. I got home and unloaded the car and put everything away and relaxed for a bit. Sparky curled up in my lap and I spent some time catching up on the latest horrors from the current administration of fascists and liars and murderers. I also spent some time rereading one of my favorite books of history–Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror. We also watched the first three episodes of Ryan Murphy’s latest pretty production of a disjointed narrative, The Beauty.

In all honesty, I am not sure what to think. of The Beauty. It could easily have just been another season of American Horror Story rather than a stand-alone series. I also could do without child sexual abuse supporter and a friend of Diddy who regularly attended the “freak-offs” on my television screen. I’ll watch, but we’re not giving Ashton Kutcher a redemption arc, thank you very much. I’ve also not seen his ex-wife’s The Substance, but there seem to be an awful lot of similarities between the two. There’s a lot of things that could be said about our American obsession with youth and beauty, but I seriously doubt we’re going to get it from a Ryan Murphy show. It’s also my thought that the show will go off the rails and stop making sense, the way so many of the Ryan Murphy seasons do, before long. One day I may be able to break my hate-watching need for Ryan Murphy’s deeply flawed productions, but we aren’t there yet. After we caught up on it, we switched to the Australian Open and watched that until it was time for bed. I also made dinner last night, so the kitchen is a bit messy this morning. I do think, though, that once I finish and post this I may go read for a bit before getting cleaned up and getting the house under control yet again.

And yes, we’ve had another murder of an American citizen–a male nurse, at that–in Minneapolis by the tax-payer funded Noem thugs. She, and the rest of them, all lied about it, of course; which she should be civilly liable for; I do think the victims’ families should be able to file wrongful death suits against Noem, Homeland Security, and this administration. So glad y’all couldn’t bring yourself to vote for the highly qualified Black woman because you didn’t believe she worked at McDonalds and had a stranger laugh you didn’t like. Fuck you all, now and forever. There can be no forgiveness without atonement and genuine remorse. I’ll probably carry that grudge to the grave. Have fun in church today, Pharisees.

It’s funny, because one thing I’ve been researching for a future book is the 1970s and its pop culture, which is fun and interesting–although the clothes and hairstyles can be safely left to the past and memory. But one of the biggest things I can remember in the 1970s was the Bicentennial; many now aren’t old enough to remember that. I’ll probably write an essay for the newsletter about the Bicentennial at some point. Remembering what a huge fuss was made for the Bicentennial makes it kind of surprising that no one seems to give a shit that the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence is this July 4th. Kind of ironic that it was written as a result of years of authoritarian British colonial rule and justice…while on a major anniversary of the signing we have elected our own authoritarians and tyrant to abuse our freedoms and liberties. The way they can bald-faced lie despite the overwhelming video evidence that proves they lie about everything and anything.

The lengths they will go to in order to distract from the Epstein files is pretty telling, isn’t it? It’s worse for them for the epstein files to come out than shooting American citizens dead in the streets.

That’s a pretty big fucking tell, isn’t it?

Well, the rain has arrived and it’s very dark now, so I am going to repair to my easy chair and my coffee and read some more Ken Holt and Eli Cranor. Stay safe and warm wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. Thanks for stopping by!

Gate and Garden

Wednesday morning that doesn’t feel like a Wednesday, following close behind a Tuesday that didn’t feel like a Tuesday. Sigh. I have today off to attend a memorial service for a close friend, and so tomorrow is also going to feel a bit off, too–another day in the office before work-at-home Friday and the weekend. Yesterday was weird, you know? I was a bit stiff and sore from Monday’s fender-bender, and my energy just felt off all day. It was very weird, honestly, and probably a hangover from the adrenaline spike on Monday afternoon. That accident could have been so much worse than it was, too. Thank goodness for staying calm in the moment, right? It was a bit cold yesterday morning, too, but it felt okay when I left for the office. I had an errand to run on the way home, and I was back in my chair with a purring kitty before it got terribly dark, which was a very nice outcome. I was very tired when I got home, too, so didn’t really do much of anything last night…and I slept for almost twelve hours! I’m not sure what that was about, but I feel rested and good this morning, the coffee is going down easily, and Sparky is perched on my desk watching the windows.

There was an arson attack in the Bywater the other night–some friends’ home burned, along with eight parked cars and I think maybe one more house? Arson is terrifying in a city with a long history of burning–I don’t even know how many great New Orleans fires there have been, but I do know big swathes of the Quarter burned down several times in the eighteenth century. I also know that under the right conditions the entire city could easily go up in flames again. When we lived on Camp Street in the mid-to-late nineties, there was an arsonist setting fires in the lower Garden District; theoretically, he burned down a house on Coliseum Street as well as the old Coliseum Theater–which I am still not convinced wasn’t an insurance fire–how convenient for the property owner not to have to deal with a historic building and the insane process to tear it down. There’s a big building full of condos there now…and I know at one point I had wanted to write a Chanse book about an arsonist here, but somehow never got around to it…and of course, this recent arson has me thinking about a New Orleans arsonist again; I also wrote two Scotty books about fires–Bourbon Street Blues has a house fire, and Jackson Square Jazz came out of the Cabildo fire…and of course, I also wrote about the fire at the Upstairs Lounge in a Chanse, too. So I have written about fires in New Orleans…funny how you forget things you actually wrote yourself, isn’t it?

I think when I get home from the service (and the errands we are going to run afterwards) I am going to get some chores done around here so I don’t have to do them this weekend. I won’t be as tired as I usually am on Thursday, either, so I should be able to get things done tomorrow night after work, too. I think I am in the clinic alone again, but that’s fine. It’ll be a busy day for me, too–lots of things will need to get caught up for the week, now that I am missing a full day–but it’ll be fine. I can also get some reading done, too–it really is wild how hard it is for me to sit down with a book these days, you know? I was remembering yesterday about how much I used to read–and when I was growing up books were also a lot longer. I spent the summer before my junior year reading Michener–I read Hawaii, Centennial, Tales of the South Pacific, and Chesapeake that summer; I really wish he would have done Louisiana–and the summer before my senior year reading Herman Wouk (Marjorie Morningstar, Youngblood Hawke, The Winds of War, and War and Remembrance) while also reading thick volumes by Taylor Caldwell, Irving Wallace, and many others.

And now it takes me two weeks to reread The Postman Always Rings Twice. How things change.

And on that note I am going to head into the spice mines as the world and country burn to the ground around me. Have a lovely midweek Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning before work! See you then!

Foreplay/Long Time

Work at home Friday has rolled around again, and this time it precedes yet another three day weekend. I was tired yesterday, not being used to getting up at six for four days in a row again. I made some groceries on the way home from work, did some chores when I got home, and then slid into my easy chair with Sparky for some cuddles and catching up on the news. I also had no idea how tired I actually was until I got home; Sparky curled up in my lap, purring, and by seven thirty I was sound asleep in my easy chair! I woke up groggy after eight and said fuck it and went to bed. I slept like the dead, and didn’t get up until about eight this morning. I still am achy in places–the hips and Achilles tendons, of all things–and not feeling particularly energetic this morning, either, and Sparky is being no help this morning at all. I have a meeting this morning, and I have lots of laundry to do, in addition to some work-at-home duties I need to get caught up on. We weren’t terribly busy yesterday–not as busy as we were scheduled to be, and I had to train someone, too–but we were busy enough. I did get a lot of stuff at the office caught up, which might very well be why I was so tired and sleepy last night (fatigue is different, in that it doesn’t involve feeling sleepy; I used to get so tired and exhausted I couldn’t do anything but was wide awake, which was torturous). Today I also have errands to run, but the temperature is going to be in the low seventies again (with a cold front striking over the weekend–slight chance of snow again Sunday morning), which will make it ever so much better to do.

And it’s a three day weekend, which is even more marvelous.

I do have a lot I need to get working on this glorious weekend. I want to do some more work on the apartment done, clean out some books to take to the library sale this weekend, and of course, I need to read and write this weekend. I also would like to do some seriously deep cleaning with the files and so forth–getting rid of things I no longer need. I don’t need to hoard ideas any more. I am never going to write every story, novel or essay idea I have, and I have more and more ideas all the time. I went ahead and ordered some groceries for delivery–it is absolutely eerie how expensive things are now, and how easily you get to over $100 in no time–while knowing you used to get three times that amount of things for that amount. $100 used to fill the hatch of my car. Now I can get it into the house with one trip with the wagon. So glad everyone voted for lower prices. Funny how they stopped complaining about prices once 1/20 rolled around while everything gets more expensive by the week. (It was always about the competent Black woman, let’s make no mistake there.)

I also love all the MAGAts posting their support of the occupation of Minneapolis and the Gestapo, and have to wonder, how would they feel if this was happening in their home town? If one of their neighboring moms got shot in the face three times by a murderous thug who shouldn’t be allowed to own a gun, let alone use one. Nothing ever matters to them unless it affects them personally, and their inability to even consider a different point of view (because they are incapable of logical thinking) is yet another reason why this country is now an autocracy with some remnants of the old system hanging on for dear life while bending the knee to the dictator. Democratic leadership is sadly too milquetoast to effectively clean house with the corporatists and centrists who are basically MAGA-lite and only beholden to their donors and not their constituents. When they gave party leadership back to Schumer and Jeffries after the last election I knew we were doomed, because neither is competent or intelligent enough to stand up for their base and apparently think it is still 1975. If Schumer and Jeffries led the party in the 1970s, Nixon would have finished his second term. I am sick to death of wimps who are afraid Fox News is going to look at them cross-eyed. The nation is crying out for them to do something other than being masters of the strongly worded letter.

We don’t need Karens asking for the manager. Where is our JFK, FDR, or even Ted Kennedy? Instead we’ve got Chuck Schumer and Hakeem Jeffries, two incompetent losers who will be judged very harshly by the base. I hope to God someone primaries Schumer so we can be finally rid of that loser who couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag that is already torn. Minneapolis and everything that happens there is also on the Democratic Party leadership. I lived in Minneapolis (for eight months)in 1996 before I moved to New Orleans, and it’s very upsetting to see what’s happening there. I have friends there I worry about on the daily.

And yet we still have elected Democrats backing ICE.

Quislings, every last one of them. Every one of them who voted to confirm Kristi Noem should be asked every day how they intend to make up for that to their base, because that is disqualifying for office. So, by all means, ask me for more money. You won’t get it, but I appreciate the laugh every time I get a fundraising email to back them in their “fight” and treating us all like marks at a pro wrestling match. Like we can’t see how little they are doing and how ineffectual what little they do is?

Sigh.

And I am going to head into the spice mines now after this grim post. Have a lovely weekend, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Something About You

‘Tis Tuesday morning and all is well; at least so far, at any rate. It was very cold at the office yesterday, which didn’t make a lot of sense. The temperature did drop overnight Saturday, as I may have mentioned yesterday, but man, it was so cold in the office yesterday it made me sleepy and my knee joints ache–which is a new ache, I might add. I was also experiencing some pain from my left Achilles tendon yesterday, that I noticed particularly as I pushed the cart around the grocery store last night. I did make good on my plan to stop and make a little groceries last night on the way home, but was very tired from the cold and once I was home, collapsed into my chair with Sparky. The apartment was very warm and comfortable when I got home, but I also realized yesterday that I didn’t dress appropriately for the cold, either. It’s 39 right now outside, so yes–layers and a jacket for the day (and a sweater and a T-shirt). Did I mention that it was insanely cold in the office yesterday? Feel free to mock me, people from the frozen tundra up north, as y’all are wont to do. I don’t care.

I also decided yesterday that one thing I definitely need to do this year is get the ebook of Jackson Square Jazz put up at long last. I just need to revise and copy edit it, and I may even do a bit more polishing on it than was originally done. I don’t know why I was so determined that the ebook be exactly like the (long) out of print hard copies, but there you have it, you know? My insistence that it be exactly the same and not changed or revisited at all was came from the obsessive part of my brain and now that I’m medicated, that’s no longer a thing. There’s no point in setting a personal deadline, because I always blow those in any case (kind of like the publisher ones), but I can add it to the long list of things to do (I still need to update my to-do list, don’t I?) and can at least try to get it done by spring. I do have a three-day weekend coming up this weekend, too….and no Costco trip, either, so that won’t wear me out. Huzzah? I guess the national championship in football game is this week, too? That should tell you something–that I don’t even know when the game is being played. Anyway, I need to reread the book first at any rate, and since my mind seems unable to focus enough to read something, anything, else…maybe this will kick-start my brain back into reading some more.

You know what straight women who consume queer content but try to exclude queer people from said content are? Homophobes. I saw over the weekend a horrible post in which a gay man in Utah went to an advertised watch-party for Heated Rivalry, and long story short, the straight women kicked him out because “he made them uncomfortable.” Seriously? I’ve seen a lot of this sort of “gatekeeping” on this show, but also on gay romance. Almost twenty years ago, I was attacked and lied on and smeared and slandered because I dared to say that there was clearly homophobia in the “m/m community”–which there was, always has been, and there still is obviously1; and I certainly do not need any cisgender straight woman to tell me what is and isn’t homophobic, thank you very much. If you’re MAGA and read/write gay romance, you probably shouldn’t be–because you aren’t allies, you don’t care about us or our rights, and how fucking dare you appropriate our lives and stories (and spaces) to make money? I have always said anyone can write anything they want whenever they want; I am not in the habit of telling any artist how to express themselves creatively. It isn’t a matter of can you, but more a should you. No one has a right to be published–and no one has a right to book sales and an audience, either. I don’t want anyone telling me what I can and can’t write; and I am not going to tell anyone else what they should write or read or watch or anything like that.

And as the watch-party story spread across social media, one of the terrific things I’ve seen is actual straight women allies calling that behavior out as exclusionary and homophobic, which is a lovely change from the way they all used to pile on anyone with the mildest question or concern about said writings and writers, particularly those who thought making jokes about queer identity when not being actually queer wasn’t homophobic.2

And for the record, I know any number of straight women who write excellent fiction about gay men.

It really is amazing how Heated Rivalry is driving so much discourse, isn’t it? I’ve also taken to occasionally watching reaction videos of straight guys watching and loving the show; my favorite are the Empty Netters, who’ve gone kind of viral. It is really, really nice seeing straight guys getting vested in the show–they tuned in for the hockey but got caught up in the story. I tend to think those men probably weren’t actively homophobic, or really were, deep down; I’m sure they’ve made gay jokes and used gay slurs to be funny with other straight men. But being open to watching a gay romance show, getting vested in it, and spreading the word about the show to get more viewers? That’s awesome, and the sort of thing we need more of in the future, despite the country burning to the ground.

And on that grim note, I am heading into the spice mines.

I’m very pleased with how this picture, from the Iris parade a few years back, turned out.
  1. The attacks on me were incredibly homophobic–and I will never forgive nor forget those bitches. ↩︎
  2. I also loved how some of them were horrified at how queer fiction is marginalized in the industry. I mean, duh. ↩︎

Jackson

Tis Saturday here in the Lost Apartment, and all through the house, only Greg is stirring now that Sparky’s been fed. I stayed up late doing the laundry, so am off to a late start this morning but that’s okay. I feel good this morning–I was kind of low energy yesterday, so after work and the Costco adventure I was pretty done in. I wound up watching the Oregon-Indiana game (more on that later), and then we watched the figure skating. Some incredible performances by the ladies! I fell asleep in my chair but also wound up not going to bed until after midnight, which I also did Thursday night and needs to stop. I’ll set my alarm for tomorrow morning; this needs to stop so I can be productive!

It barely sprinkled yesterday, in spite of the constant weather alert warnings I was getting in my inbox all day Thursday and yesterday morning. FLOOD WATCH! TORNADOES! And then it was sunny and over seventy all day. It did just start raining, though. I have a couple of errands to do this morning, but I might wait a bit until the rain passes….and read in my chair under my blanket. That would be cozy and lovely, wouldn’t it? It certainly sounds good, at any rate. I’ve already gotten cleaned up because I was groggy and needed to wake up, so I am already ahead of the game. I love rain so much. If it was raining when I woke up, I’d probably still be in bed with Sparky and listening to its patter on the roof… and seeing the stream the walk always turns into outside my windows this morning is soothing.

This has been a no-good horrible week, hasn’t it? This is part of the reason why I wasn’t willing to get super excited about the fresh start a new year brings with it. None of that “goodbye to a horrible year yay for a new one” bullshit for me, thank you very much, having been burned before too many times to think a calendar reset means anything to thugs, fascists, Nazis, and traitors. It’s been a hell of a year so far, hasn’t it? And now that the Gestapo reboot has permission and cover from the administration, Fox, Newsmax, and all the rest to kill Americans pretty much minding their own business. The lies and the spin has been unreal–but those who listen to, accept, and regurgitate those talking points are not the majority. Currently, Kristi Noem is harboring a fugitive from justice; funny how all those states’ rights Republicans only think red states can defy the government.

Are we great again yet? Tired of all this winning?

And then there was the “pick me gay” debacle that blew up yesterday with Bowen Yang and Matt Rogers. I sort of liked Bowen Yang (I do not watch SNL) and was on the fence with Matt Rogers. I wasn’t sure what to make of him, in all honesty. I mean, he was cute enough and was built well, but I didn’t have an opinion on him one way or the other until this week. But…this podcast telling people not to donate to Jasmine Crockett because of…well, reasons that sound pretty fucking racist and misogynistic to me? That was not it. At the very best, they sounded deeply out of touch, uneducated on the subject, and probably should have kept their mouths shut rather than coming for Ms. Crockett. I’m not saying they don’t have a right to their opinions, but they also have a right to consequences, and it’s not really smart to go after a politician whose base is the exact same base as your audience. I will never understand the mentality of leaning into what privilege you do have when you’re underprivileged. Yes, yes, you are white (or white-adjacent) men, so by all means go after a Black woman who is doing good in the world because you’re tragically uninformed. Were they honestly so ignorant to think Black women would agree with them? Has their minor celebrity really given them such unearned arrogance? I don’t know what will happen with them–will they learn from this and reflect and do better, or are they going to double down? Sadly, so far it seems that they’ve decided to go the double-down path, at least so far.

I will say I am very happy, though, to see them being critiqued in a non-homophobic way1 (although I am sure there is some of that out there I’ve not seen), so in a way this is sort of progress? I do think there is a tendency (just observational, not trying to be reductive) amongst gay men to think our marginalization is a shield that somehow allows us to be problematic? I also think marginalized people tend to only think about their demographic’s oppression, not understanding that we’re all just branches on the same tree coming from a common root–the patriarchy. They win because they divide us, and because some of us are so desperate for acknowledgment and recognition from the societal mainstream that we accept, and will turn on others, for crumbs.

It’s so disappointing. It’s so much harder to find success in entertainment as a marginalized person, only to use it to be a shit.

And that “mainstream acceptance”? Never permanent. They’ll just take a longer time getting around to you, but they will eventually. WAKE UP PEOPLE.

Then again, if you’re here and reading this, you’re already pretty awake.

Ah, the rain has stopped, so it’s time for me to get moving on the day. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

The gay fantasy of how gym showers work…
  1. I did see one Black woman activist dragging them for filth (the entire thing was epic) and she closed with perhaps the most classic read of two gay men I’ve ever heard; one that was worthy of the Read Hall of Fame, and one that showed she knew exactly who those two were. ↩︎

Flowers on the Wall

Good morning!

I’m running a bit behind this morning–hence the tardiness of my daily blog–but I keep reminding myself you have no time constraints today; because I don’t. The post office closes at 2, but other than that, I can be anywhere at any time today. This is very nice, and the same is true for tomorrow. I do have some things to get done today, but again, there’s nothing pressing.

I had originally thought I was going to try to get a lot of writing and reading done this weekend; but yesterday, after I finished my work at home duties, I decided to clean up the apartment as well as get better organized with all the things I currently have in progress. I’ve been ill for so long (I no longer refer to the fatigue and brain fog as anything other than a part of the ulcerative colitis; henceforth I will think of the first half of this decade as anything other than “when I was ill”) that I didn’t have the strength, energy, or will power to do much of anything except try to keep current on the housework…and thus things slid. I think part of the reason I’ve not been able to write as much is partly because everything has been so cluttered and scattered and disorganized, and as I cleaned haphazardly yesterday afternoon, my mind started wandering and thinking about writing projects, which felt absolutely amazing.

I had dinner with a friend last night, which was quite lovely. It was a beautiful night for a walk–there’s nothing better than New Orleans on a warm winter night–and we ate in the restaurant courtyard. I remembered to wear my hearing aids so I could actually hear, and it was marvelous to catch up. I even decided to try having more than one cocktail, to see how it would play out, and it was fine. No gastronomical distress! And walking a total of about ten blocks or so was perfectly fine. My hips didn’t ache a bit, and I am not exhausted this morning, either. I got a little winded walking, but that’s from being out of condition–and a big reminder of how far I have to go to get back into decent shape…or what I call decent shape, at any rate. It’s just so marvelous to feel good again, you know? It makes me very happy. I also spent some time with the massage gun, working on the tightness in my left shoulder and the shoulder blade; it gets tight and sore since the surgery but feels great this morning. (Note to self: remember the use the massage gun every week.) I also want to start stretching a bit every day and maybe even taking a walk…once I figure out how to make the headphones work with my new phone.

So far, so good, 2026.

And on that note, I think I am going to get cleaned up and make a grocery list–I have to make groceries at some point–and get back to work on cleaning and organizing. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning!

I just love when stained glass is lit up, don‘t you?