Tag: Heated Rivalry

Just Like a Woman

Thursday, and my last day in the office for the week. I am feeling so much better than I did over the weekend and the first few days of this work week and also am feeling a bit more centered than I have since that morning last Monday when there was no water pressure and we were in a boil water advisory. I wound up spending all of last week off-balance, got sick over the weekend (I was coming down with it on Friday evening, and it peaked on Sunday and Monday, with some left over on Tuesday when I went back to the office), and now I finally feel more like myself. Thank God, right? It was so lovely waking up this morning without a head full of snot and a sore throat and post-nasal drip *shudder*. Tomorrow morning I have a meeting in the morning and then have doctors’ appointments in the afternoon, and we do need to go to Costco. I’m not sure how this weekend will turn out–productive or restful, or some combination of the two. I’ve not done any chores these past couple of days, and I really should take care of them tonight so I don’t have to come down to a messy kitchen/office space again, and there’s some laundry I should also get done. It’s always so tempting to sit in my chair and catch up on the news before watching more of The Traitors (yes I am obsessed with that show, and I am revisiting things that spark joy in me–anything Alysa Liu or Amber Glenn related, anything Heated Rivalry, anything Ilia Malinin and US women’s hockey, too) with Sparky not helping matters any by sleeping in my lap.

Obviously, it doesn’t take much to kick me off-track, does it? It was lovely to finally feel good again yesterday, and I feel like I should point out that my Achilles tendons are doing much better. The left is fine, but the right is still a bit tender and tight, so will ice it again thoroughly tonight and periodically over the weekend. I want to start stretching again too. The Achilles tendon issue has delayed my return to working out and exercise, but there’s no reason I can’t start stretching again before I feel up to returning to the gym.

I remembered something over the weekend that I’d completely forgotten about, and once I did, I stewed about it for a few days before deciding what I wanted to do. If you will recall, my close friend Victoria died about a year ago, and she left me a gift in her will, which was an absolute shock. I signed the letter from the probate attorney and forgot about it. His office contacted me on Friday that the estate has been probated and I would be getting the gift in a short amount of time, which was a lovely surprise. But this weekend when I was moving things around I came across copies of a book I wrote that I completely forgot about, which is wild to me. In 2009 or 2010, Victoria decided she wanted to start a small press for diverse children’s and young adult fiction. I wasn’t sure it was a great idea–2009 and 2010 weren’t a good time in publishing; this was during the indy/trad author wars, when ebooks were really changing the entire industry–but she knew I had written a couple of young adult manuscript in the earl 1990s and they were collecting dust in a drawer (we’d talked about this when I met the y/a editor from a major press who was familiar with my work and wanted me to submit a manuscript–but Katrina happened and I let that opportunity slip through my grasp), and she wanted to publish one of them (the other two were Sleeping Angel and Sara, which I sold to Bold Strokes). They weren’t doing anything and I wasn’t doing anything with any of them, so I thought, knowing the odds of me making any money off it were slim to none, but…she was my friend and I wanted to help her out, so I let her publish Sorceress. Like I said, though, it wasn’t a good time to be launching a traditional publishing company (she hated ebooks), and I didn’t worry about it. I promoted the book the best I could, but have no idea how well it sold, if it sold at all, because I never got a sales statement or a royalty check–but I want to be very clear about this: I loved Victoria and I didn’t care. She had wanted me to write a sequel, which I did a first draft of, but never revised or anything. I never brought it up, she never brought it up, and I had no desire to make her feel bad or guilty about it, so why bring it up? People I know who did read it liked it–it was my first real stab at writing Gothic suspense/horror–but like I said, I gave it to her freely with the full expectation of never seeing a cent.

But now that she’s no longer with us (at least once a day I miss her still) I kind of would like to have the rights to it back, and maybe revise it and put it up as an indy book. (I know, I have to get Jackson Square Jazz up and going, too.) And since she left me a gift, why not use that gift to get these two books–and my next short story collection–up independently? But what about the sequel? It’s not necessarily tied to the first book–different characters, for one–but the same California mountain town (same as Sleeping Angel, too). Anyway, it’s something to ponder.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Thursday, and I’ll be back in the morning yet again!

Jane

Tuesday and feeling somewhat better this morning. I just hate the whole head congestion thing, along with the scratchy throat and phlegmy cough. Not a fan–but are there people who like being sick? I suppose there are; anything you think is too outrageous for people to be into is more about your own naivete, really. It was smart to not go into the office yesterday–I don’t remember if I mentioned it yesterday or not, but I got up early and was sick, so I called out for the day. Sniffling, sneezing and coughing while working in a clinic? Not wise. I do feel much better this morning, and hope to make it through the day. I feel rested, which is always best, and a good night’s sleep definitely helped. I watched more of Season 1 of the UK Traitors (the OG, if you will)–it’s fun; every day people and it is the first season ever, so you can see how they learned to make the show better as they went. This first group didn’t have a clue about the game going in–everyone in every season later had a season to watch to get a grasp of how it works, so for this group, everything catches them by surprise–the challenges remain similar, with slight alterations per season. Sparky slept in my lap most of the day, which was also lovely, so overall, outside of feeling awful–I hate when my joints ache and my eyes water–it wasn’t too terrible.

I also tried for a bit to catch up on the news, but it was all so depressing I couldn’t bear it for terribly long. To heal my brain and soul from that horror, I spent some time looking at fan videos about the Heated Rivalry boys. For whatever reason, they–and their friendship–just please me endlessly. It’s always lovely when new stars explode into the night sky, isn’t it? I don’t know if we are conditioned to love rags-to-riches stories or if it’s organic within our psyches, but it’s so lovely to see two talented young men who were waiting tables a year ago become two of the most beloved actors on the planet, isn’t it? I remember seeing that video, where they were going to crash the viewing party at a gay bar in West Hollywood, and were worried no one would recognize them…of course, everyone did and loved and welcomed them, which was so nice. They genuinely seem like level-headed young men who are just as shocked as anyone they’ve blown up the way they did, and also seem to be very appreciative of it all. I do remember how it felt to publish my first book, to be considered a peer by other authors, and my first interactions with people who’d read my book. Mine wasn’t even remotely close to what they are experiencing, and it just brings me joy to see them (along with some of the Olympic athletes) enjoying the unexpected ride. I don’t think they’ve had much time to process anything–it literally blew up overnight–but I hope they never lose that sense of “is this really happening to me” that is so much fun to watch.

The primary war between Senator Bill Cassidy and “liberal” (as if) Julia Letlow continues to be entertaining, if tedious. Letlow’s finally dug her heels in and started throwing mud back at Cassidy–mainly, his vote to impeach their foul lord and master–and while it is fun watching MAGA Republicans turning on each other, you can only see those ads so many times before they become boring and old and tired. I do find it interesting that Letlow’s voice-over actor is a man, while Cassidy’s is a woman. It’s interesting to me that they use a differently gendered voice to smear their opponent, and what does that mean? Since Letlow is a woman, they need to have a man attack Cassidy, and vice versa? Is there some sexism/misogyny at play here? Is it because its “ungentlemanly” for Cassidy to attack a woman, so they hired a woman voice over actor? Likewise, does using a male voice for Letlow’s ad mean to convey strength–“I may be a woman, but here’s a man to make my case for me”? It also sent me down a wormhole of wondering who these voice actors are, and if there’s a playbook for political voice actors–“stress this word, draw out that one, lower your voice here” and so on. I wonder if there are more of these style voice actors (“running a racist campaign? Have we got the woman voice actor for YOU”) or if it’s just this man and woman doing them for everyone…and it does make you wonder a bit about the voice actors, doesn’t it?

I think me getting sick–Paul was sick last week, and undoubtedly passed it on to me as he recovered–was kind of a good thing, in a weird way. I don’t really recall having anything else wrong with me the last few years other than the big things–which kind of took up all of my head space–but I honestly don’t remember the last time I dosed myself with DayQuil before this past weekend, which is kind of a good thing? I have to remember, always, that my immune system is compromised, thanks to the ulcerative colitis, and the medication I take for it also makes me more prone to infection, and so I need to be a lot more careful about being exposed to things when I am out and about. So, getting this first cold or whatever it may be was an excellent reminder to be careful–although there’s not much I can do when Paul brings something home to me, is there?

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

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Kick It

Well, I intended to get up early today and get a job on it, but I stayed up later than I intended and I was very comfortable–I even got up to feed Sparky and went right back to bed like a lag-a-bed–and so I figured what the hell and stayed in bed relaxing and napping until finally I got up. I stayed up too late watching Connor Storrie on Saturday Night Live–intending to see the monologue and then either watch the whole show or clips this morning. Yet I stayed up, watching, and next thing we knew it was midnight and we’d watched the entire show for the first time in decades. This will always be a Heated Rivalry and everything related to it fan account; it’s a show that brings me joy, and the endless enthusiasm worldwide for the show and everything connected to it also brings me joy. I’ll talk more about last night’s episode, and everything that goes along with that a bit later on.

Dan Simmons, a writer I used to admire, died recently. I had read some of his works in the late 1980s and early 1990s (Carrion Comfort, Summer of Night, Children of the Night) and I really enjoyed the books. I had also read both Song of Kali and Fires of Eden, which I enjoyed but made me very uncomfortable–they reminded me of early twentieth century books about “exoticized” locations and peoples; Song of Kali even seemed like a “means well but still offensive” juvenile series book for kids written pre-1970–and having been to Hawaii, Fires of Eden was an interesting take, I thought at the time, on the old Hawaiian gods; now being more aware than I was when I was a clueless dolt, it’s probably deeply offensive to indigenous Hawaiians. I stopped reading Simmons when I moved away from reading horror to reading exclusively crime and/or queer lit; I’d even forgotten about him entirely until I was judging an award one year and his novel Flashback was entered. “Oh, Dan Simmons! I love his work and had forgotten about it” only to read and see that all it was just a lengthy diatribe that’s message was nearly as conservative and ignorant as anything written by Ayn Rand. The main character is a former college liberal arts professor in a dystopian world ruined by things like free health care and everyone granted a guaranteed income, which naturally led to the collapse of everything good and decent and meaningful in the world–and there was a lot of talk how electing a Black president in 2008 was the beginning of the end. I gave it a zero rating on my judging form, threw it in the garbage, and vowed to never read, or reread, anything he wrote ever again. I don’t give my money to homophobes. I did like the television mini-series of his novel The Terror, despite its blatant homophobia (of course the gay sailor is the villain, because of course), but I was also amused that the second season was a slap in Simmons’ face, focused on the internment of Japanese Americans during the second world war–I’m sure he was a fan of those camps, given his politics. I did feel a bit of a pang when I heard he’d died (one of those too bad he wasted his talent by becoming a fascist), but he really was a good writer, and yes, a shame that happened to him.

Oh, well. It’s a nice day outside today, too!

Yesterday was a pretty good day, overall. I got some much-needed rest, did some chores around here, ran some errands, and was a kitty bed for Sparky for a good while. I have some more chores to do this morning, of course, and I am not really going to plan to do anything today. Plans don’t always seem to happen the way I want them to on the weekends, and making plans and announcing them publicly isn’t really the smart way to go here, because then I have to come here and make excuses for myself, or admit to not operating as efficiently as I like to think of myself being. Which, now that I think about it, is definitely a me thing, a holdover from the anxiety and my youthful training to not be lazy–as though taking it easy and resting and relaxing is somehow a bad thing. I keep finding all these habits and mental things that are all coping mechanisms I built up over the years to handle the anxiety, or try to manage it, at any rate.

We also watched Reality Check, about Tyra Banks and America’s Next Top Model, which we used to watch back in the day, and really, none of what they depicted in the documentary came as a surprise. I saw how they treated the bigger girls, I saw how they slut-shamed Shandi, and so forth. We didn’t watch the show as it aired, but would watch the marathons cable channels would run on the weekends, so it was comfort watching while recovering from going out the night before–lying on the couch, ordering a pizza, no energy, etc.–and everyone excused everything by saying “yes, well, this is the industry”–instead of “we should be fighting to change this.” The world and culture is very different now than it was when the show first started airing, but I’m not precisely sure when we stopped watching; probably when the weekend marathons were discontinued. Even with all the new attention the show has gotten this decade (people found it during lockdown), Tyra still seems to think she didn’t do anything bad or anything wrong, there’s no real accountability other than “I wouldn’t do that now.” (She also wasn’t the first Black supermodel, so I don’t know why she is fine with erasing Naomi Sims? I don’t know modeling that well (it’s not something I’ve ever cared enough about, frankly, to pay much attention to), so maybe there were others before Tyra that I don’t know or remember, but I am pretty damned sure Naomi Sims was before Tyra. I could be wrong.

I really enjoyed watching Saturday Night Live, and while some of the skits didn’t hit, he certainly did. He was terrific on live television! I also loved that they used his old skit from clown school–stripper hit by a car on the way to a bachelorette party–and he was terrific at the physical comedy it required (plus, we got to see him in a bikini, but it wasn’t gratuitous or sexy, which was a lovely flip and a metaphor about always have to deliver for fans), and his monologue was terrific. Like everyone, I was a little bothered by CAA and NBC (hockey AND the Olympics) using his luster and star power to rehabilitate the boys’ team’s image–horribly unfair, especially given how new his star is and not even considering the damage it could cause his image–but the quiet, polite applause when the NFL’s “chosen sacrificial lambs came on stage, and their awkward faces was perfect. They looked like two little boys who wanted to be anywhere else rather than where they were, sorry they got caught and sorry they had to be there, but if they didn’t want to lose Internet privileges they had to do this. They also didn’t look ashamed or sorry, either. But the looks on their faces when Hilary Knight and Megan Keller got long, sustained applause and cheers–something they didn’t get, and never will now outside of a hockey arena–their little bubble finally pierced and they realized oh man we really did fuck up those cheers would have been for US had we not fucked up and I think I watched Toothless Jack die a bit inside. Once again, the women have to clean up after the men, after the men not only laughed at their accomplishments with a rapist pedo and turned the entire conversation about the women’s gold medal into “about what the men did”–you not only buried the national pride in your own medal but built up at the women at your own expense. I also loved how Tkachuk was cornered into admitting his god-king used and embarrassed him on the global stage–I also love how clips of him getting absolutely drilled on the ice are going viral every time it happens. Close the Northern border indeed.

Schadenfreude and her sister karma are bitches indeed.

It was also exciting that Hudson Williams showed up, too!

And yes, I know what’s going on in the Middle East, but don’t have words to express how apoplectic my anger and rage is. Give me time.

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

Sister Honey

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, and my last free weekend before parades. It’s so weird to think that parades are starting next weekend. Holy shit, right? But a week from tomorrow is the first night of parades, with Alla and Cleopatra, with six on Saturday and three on Sunday before all the true madness really begins the following week. I hope the weather is nice for the parades this year, since this is the first time in years I’m actually feeling like I can enjoy them this season. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand at the corner, but I always seem to forget being old and tired when I am out there and the throws are a-flyin’. I also forget about it being damp and cold, too. Paul and I stood out in the rain one night for Orpheus and had the best time. I slept really well and actually woke up around five, to nap on and off until Sparky became determined to get me up for a feeding. Since I did go to the bathroom when I woke up at five, I saw that he was curled up at my feet in the bed–and when I came back, he cuddled up to my calves. Such a sweet, adorable baby…until he started nipping my fingers so I would get up to feed him.

After I ran my errands in the bitter cold on my way home from work, I came home and just collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky curled up in my lap (after being fed, of course) while I caught up on the day’s horrors–er, news–before turning to the final episode of the finale for Real Housewives of Salt Lake City’s reunion. I’m not really sure there’s any point to these reunions/rehashings of the season–it just gives them all a chance to yell at each other all over again, with a noncommittal resolution that’s seems required by that smug expired twinkie Andy Cohen (at some point I will do a newsletter about the Housewives shows).

The amount of virality that continues with Heated Rivalry and its stars continues to astound and amaze me. It does also please me; I’ve become rather entranced with them myself and feel almost paternally protective of them. I watch reels and videos about them and their journey to international stardom. They all have such adorable personalities, and are all so humble about all this sudden success and fame…and it’s just kind of fun to see, you know?1 And who doesn’t love a rags to riches story? It also amazes me how different Connor Storrie is from the character he played–and I don’t just mean the acting. He looks different. Similar, but different. As Ilya, he doesn’t really use his very expressive face the way he does as himself; so much so that he doesn’t seem like the same person. I feel like physical actors don’t get as much credit as they deserve; I always think of that scene in Superman where Christopher Reeve changes from Clark Kent into Superman but only in posture and physically, and it was extraordinary; he never got the credit he deserved for his acting talent.

Yesterday was an odd one, energy-wise. I wasn’t tired, and I ran my errands on the way home, coming straight home tonight with no stops, might have things delivered if I need anything over the weekend. We had a lot of no-shows yesterday–I think I wound up only seeing two or three people total–so I found myself catching up on a lot of other work that doesn’t involve seeing clients. We’re scheduled heavier than yesterday and I am alone in the clinic yet again…and I have some other things I need to get done today around clients. I feel pretty good this morning, though, and like I’ll be able to get everything under control today. Tonight when I get home I have some chores to do once His Majesty has been fed and gotten enough attention, and then I think I’ll probably catch up on the news before watching this week’s The Beauty. We’re also a bit behind on The Night Manager, too. And of course the Australian Open is on, and the Olympics are also coming up…during parade season!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

  1. I’m still bitter about Boots being canceled. ↩︎

I Sing for Things

Wednesday Pay the Bills Day again, and yet another cold morning here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was bitterly cold again, and our “break” from the cold is today, getting up into the fifties before we slide back down into the freezing water level and even….SINGLE DIGITS this weekend. It’s in the low thirties outside, and my workspace is really chilly. I forgot to set my alarm last night, but woke up when I was supposed to, which was nice–and I did it without Sparky’s help. Usually he’s trying to get me up before the alarm goes off, but not this morning. He was curled up somewhere warm downstairs, obviously, because he was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs this morning when I came down. Sigh. I have to run errands tonight after work–prescription, some groceries, gas–so am hoping it won’t be too terrible outside when my work shift is over. If not, oh, well. The one thing I don’t like about the cold weather is how my legs get so tired and achy so much faster–and leg exhaustion pretty much sets the tone for your entire body, doesn’t it?

But I did some chores last night–started some laundry, ran the dishwasher before putting the dishes away, cleaned the counters–and it was very nice coming down to a clean kitchen this morning. Note to self: the reason for doing chores during the week is to stay on top of it so I don’t have to spend time on the weekends getting it all caught up. I plan on doing another book purge this week, too, and to do some organizing of the bookcases again. It looks so much nicer and neater in the living room with all those books gone…and absolutely must remember to continue purging when I get to the point where I feel like it’s okay to buy books again.

I spent a lot of time last night watching news clips, interviews, and influencer podcasts about the fallout from the fascism we’ve all witnessed in Minneapolis. (It doesn’t escape my cynical notice that everyone went completely nuts about this–right and left–once they’d murdered a straight white man on camera…so, not to worry, racialized people, queers and women: we still care more about straight white men than any other demographic in this country.) The blame game, the quick shift by Kristi Noem to “just following orders,” and the possible fall of the vile Stephen Miller and his pick-me skank of a wife (IMAGINE seeing that naked and letting him inside of you…I may never stop internally screaming) was just too delicious of a train wreck to look away from. It almost feels like they are in the “find out” part of FAFO, but they are literally like the walking dead. Firing Bovino, Noem, Lewandowski (her adulterous LOVER), and Miller is just a start, for the record. Nothing less than prosecution will suffice.

That, and never being able to show their disgusting faces in public again without heckling.

When I’ve talked recently about wishing everyone could just let us enjoy Heated Rivalry and its success without being jackasses, I was referring to the Cyd Ziegler/Empty Netters podcast that’s been going on since late last week and early into this one. At first, the piece in Outsports was terribly disappointed, as it seemed to indicate that the guys on the podcast were actually homophobic trash who pretended to like the show for views and clicks, by exposing text messages the one supposedly sent to a friend. Obviously, he knew who he sent the texts to–as they are still in his phone–and he did a video defending himself, claiming, as always, they were taken out of context and the timeline of how things happened and played out were muddled to make him look worse. Some of his defensive language was problematic, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing…but then I got some more context on Cyd Ziegler, the Outsports journalist who exposed the story.

Cyd is a registered Republican gay man in Florida who supports Ron DeSantis, so anything he says is bound to be suspect, and his claim of years of gay advocacy and activism is rather suspect, given his politics. If you are a gay man, claiming advocacy and activism–how the fuck can you be a Republican and support Don’t Say Gay DeSantis? The backlash was so strong he backtracked, but…you can never believe or trust anything a Republican says, because they lie like it’s mother’s milk to them.

And yes, I will stand in solidarity with straight allies who might not have the best education on queer rights or issues over a self-loathing gay Republican every fucking day of the week. We may both be gay, but we have significantly different values and morals. Queer MAGA, to me, is even more despicable than straight MAGA…”fuck those fags, I’m not like those pansies” is an attitude and mentality I will never align with or support or stand with in solidarity. There’s an essay in this, methinks, for the newsletter.

I also started the new version of Chlorine, and it’s slow going so far; maybe eight hundred words or so? But the voice feels right, and I am looking forward to getting back into it again today.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning for my weekly “last day in the office” blog. STAY WARM!!!

When gorgeous, muscular men are involved, wrestling can create living sculpture as art. Meta will, naturally, hide this as “adult content”

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!

If Anyone Falls

And the holiday has arrived. I slept well last night, and didn’t want to get out from under the covers, which were so incredibly comfortable this morning. I can tell that it’s cold outside my windows as I sit swilling my coffee and chowing down on my coffee cake. I wore tights under my sweat pants all day yesterday and that was very cozy yesterday, too. I should probably run an errand this morning, but I am also thinking it can wait maybe until tomorrow? I don’t know if the groceries are open today–grocery employees should get holidays, too, you know–but it will not hurt me in the least to give it the old college try. Yesterday was a very nice day. I wasn’t tired or achy at all–I usually am good by Sundays of my weekend–and I did manage to get some things done. I worked on the books and made progress, filling up two boxes of donations to take to the library sale this coming Saturday, and there’s at least enough pulled out to fill another box today, too. I did some picking up and cleaning yesterday, and also worked on organizing computer files. I watched some documentaries on French history, caught up a bit on the news (always dreadful) and read for a while, which was a lovely start to getting back into reading again–and I am going to carve out some time this morning for reading, too. Huzzah!

The other day on social media–I don’t recall if it was Bluesky or Threads–but Saeed Jones had discovered the wonders of Maldon brand sea salt and was sharing that information–before moving on to fancy gourmet style butter. I had already discovered the magic of Kerrygold butter (someone talked about regarding tariffs earlier last year, so I got some and was completely sold on this bougie butter), but there were some other brands mentioned that I’d not heard of, so I’d been trying to locate Maldon salt here locally (Rouse’s claimed to have it, but I didn’t find it in either of the two stores I frequent) and some of those bougie butter brands; I was planning on making baked potatoes last night, so I thought why not make them completely bougie? I didn’t find any of the butter brands, but got some more Kerrygold (including a stick of garlic and herb butter!). And yes, the Maldon salt is amazing. I am completely sold on the bougie salt! Now I am thinking of getting some of that pink sea salt they have at Costco…who knew there was fancier salt and butter all this time? Regular salt and butter are, of course, perfectly fine; but yeah, the bougie stuff is pretty damned good. Thanks, Saeed! And they say no good can come from social media! I laugh in their face HA HA HA HA HA!

I also decided to rewatch my favorite episode of Heated Rivalry yesterday–Episode 3, “Hunter,” which is the almost self-contained romance of Scott Hunter and Kip the smoothie barista. This was the episode when I became truly vested in the show, and committed to it emotionally. It was so well written and acted, and their chemistry together was incredible, sweet and intense, and I was in tears by the end of the episode, just as I was when I originally watched it. It’s such an excellent episode, and it definitely left me wanting more when I finished. It was even better on the rewatch, and I caught things I didn’t the first time. (I had seen that people were rewatching the show, and while I certainly can’t commit to the time required to watch the whole thing again, I thought “hey, I can watch this episode again!”) SPOILER: I was absolutely delighted they wound up together after all, with Scott publicly kicking open the closet door. I do hope we see more of Kip and Scott in future seasons! I’ve loved Francois Arnaud in everything I’ve seen him in (The Borgias….sigh. He was so good as Cesare), and this new young actor playing Kip is gorgeous, charismatic, and may even have the best body on the show, which is saying alot.

I also spent a lot of time scribbling free form in my journal yesterday, something I’ve not done in quite a long time. It was nice to let my mind wander and let my hand scribble. I’ll have to look at it again today to see what was running through my mind yesterday while I idly watched my French history documentaries (mostly about Cardinal Richelieu, Louis XIII, and the Thirty Years’ War–I also watched a good one about James I and the Duke of Buckingham). Once we’d had dinner, we finished Seven Dials, which seems to have a different ending, among other things, than what I remembered–but I could very easily be wrong. I’ve always loved the character of Lady Eileen Brent, and maybe that’s why I remember the novel so fondly, but I know for sure I loved The Secret of Chimneys and have reread it numerous times during my Christie era. We then started season two of The Night Manager, which is a lot of fun, and Tom Hiddleston is certainly not a problem for one’s eyesight.

As I mentioned, I did spend some time with The Secret of Hangman’s Inn and the new Eli Cranor, Mississippi Blue 42. The Ken Holt series is one of the highest bars in juvenile mystery series, and probably the hardest boiled of them all. I can’t wait to write about Ken Holt again! Mississippi Blue 42 is set in the wild world of college football, with a pair of FBI agents investigating criminality (paying players). Eli is a terrific writer, his debut Don’t Know Tough was set in the world of high-pressure high school football, and I am way behind on his canon…and spending some time with this book is reminding me of how much I love his work.

And on that note, I should probably get going with my day. I am going to try to be productive, but at the same time I am not going to kill myself getting things done, either. So, have a great day while I head into the spice mines.

Screenshot

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. ↩︎

Old Hippie

Good morning!

Well, here it is New Year’s Eve yet again, with 2025 taking its last breath tonight at 11:59:50 p.m. I’m not going to celebrate the end of an awful year (it was pretty awful for everyone, I think) because who know what fresh horrors 2026 will bring in its dreadful wake?

I mean, the year wasn’t all bad, was it?

Let’s start with the bad, shall we, and get it out of the way first?

I lost four dear friends this past year, people who’d been part of my life since before I was published, and had always been active cheerleaders of mine, both personally and professionally. Their loss is still felt; I think at least every day I have a moment of oh I should email Victoria to see what she thinks and then have the jolt of remembering that I’ll never have another lengthy conversation via email with her (we stopped talking on the phone because we’d talk for hours and lose track of time; I can’t tell you how many times one of us was late for something because we were on the phone) again. We lost Dorothy Allison after the election in 2024, but I am counting that as part of 2025’s losses, because it was so close to the end of the year. And of course, Felice Picano and Patricia Brady. I don’t think I will ever not miss any of them.

Few things can make you feel your age like losing your loved ones.

I suppose the biggest thing that happened to me this past year was being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis and spending six days in the hospital. I know, I am certain you’re sick of hearing about me being sick; but it was something significant that happened to me this year and since this is a year-end round-up…you can, of course, also skip ahead if you’re sick of me being sick; God knows I was sick of being sick. We now think (we= me and my doctor) that the situation probably developed as long ago as 2019/2020; and I had bouts since then that I didn’t know was the ulcerative colitis and thought it was something else. Since it always cleared up, I didn’t worry about it. I blamed the brain fog, memory loss, and fatigue on having COVID in the summer of 2021. But those were also symptoms that something was wrong with me, just not identified as such, and of course, my criminally negligent previous doctor (who should lose his license to practice, frankly) couldn’t have cared less. But this last bout was bad and it was probably the worst five weeks of my life thus far, health-wise–and it did require hospitalization. I am now feeling the best I have in years, even farther back than the pandemic, and now I just need to rebuild my stamina and get back into better physical condition. Ultimately, that bad round of colitis turned out to be a good thing…

I think it’s pretty safe to say that it was a shitty year to be a US citizen on every political level. We have a jackass governor, an evil psycho for president, and the gang of idiots that are the cabinet, and don’t get me started on MAGA. There are signs, though, that it’s all going to collapse…just not soon enough. I just wonder how much of the country is going to get dragged down with them.

I read some excellent books this year, just not nearly enough of them. Some personal favorites are Murder Takes a Vacation by Laura Lippman, We Are Watching by Alison Gaylin, El Dorado Drive by Megan Abbott, Fever Beach by Carl Hiassen, O Jerusalem by Laurie R. King, The Hunting Wives by May Cobb; Holokua Road by Elizabeth Hand, The Get Off by Christa Faust, and Hall of Mirrors by John Copenhaver, amongst many others. I also reread some books that I always enjoy. I didn’t read many short stories, or essays, and that’s something I need to correct in the new year.

My favorite movie of the year was Superman. Period, no question, no arguments. There was also a lot of good television this past year, with lots of excellent queer representation across the board. Boots and Heated Rivalry showed that queers can be leads, and people will watch. (The enthusiastic reactions of some straight men to Heated Rivalry shocked me to the core.) While this fascist-adjacent administration tries to strip queer people of our rights, our dignity, and our citizenship, queer acceptance by the people is rising. Sure, there are still homophobic chodes out there, wrapping their bigotry (and ignorance) in the cloak of religious belief, but that will never change. The way MAGA took over evangelical Christianity, only to have regular church attendance fall sharply, is just *chef’s kiss* to me. Have fun in hell, apostates!

I wrote one book this past year, and it took me forever to do so, but… it will be out in February at long last. I also published three short stories in anthologies: “The Last To See Him Alive” in Celluloid Crimes; “The Spirit Tree” in Double Crossing Van Dine; and “The Rhinestone”, which was in Crime Ink: Iconic, edited by John Copenhaver and Salem West; a queer crime anthology I was very proud to be in. So, the year wasn’t a total wash; I just got seriously derailed last spring.

But again, I have to reiterate that getting derailed last spring was a good thing for me, because having enforced rest where I really couldn’t do much of anything–using my laptop was exhausting (I didn’t have a good place in my room to use it), I didn’t have any books with me (although I could have read on the Kindle app on my phone), and so my mind was wandering almost the entire time I was there (when it wasn’t focused on how horrible I felt). Lying in a hospital bed with literally no idea what is wrong with you (and none of the doctors or nurses know, either) is a major wake-up call; one that makes you have to sit back and take stock of your life and career and behavior, while recognizing/remembering how I used to put a lot of thought into my writing and my career and somehow, I just lost the thread of everything at some point in the 2010’s. I also got a hard dose of the reality that procrastination has always been my enemy, and I’d come out of the aughts kind of damaged; and rather than dealing with my ambitions or making plans to achieve my career goals.

My blog turned 21 yesterday, too; which is wild to me. My, how things have changed since I started blogging! It seems weird to have been blogging this long. I started while we were under the incompetent rule of George W. Bush, and before Hurricane Katrina, if that tells you anything. I don’t think there’s ever been a year where I posted every day, but still, even assuming I only did 300 entries per year, that’s 6300 entries, and averaging them out to 500 words each…that’s over three million words here alone.

Um, yikes?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow with goals for 2026.

How beautiful New Orleans is at night always awes me.

The End of the World

Don’t they know, it’s the end of the world…it ended when you said, goodbye…..

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and a lovely day, indeed. I slept really late this morning, after a big day of getting things done and running around town. I got up in the morning and did some chores (still need to unload the dishwasher), so have a bit of touching up to do today to make it look nice again. I ran some errands in the morning, picking up the mail and getting my present to myself (new LSU house shoes), caught up on the news, and then we went to Costco, where we got our new television…it’s ENORMOUS, and today I am going to spend a little time getting it all hooked up, trying to remember passwords, and hopefully it’ll be operational for the LSU bowl game this evening. We didn’t do a BIG Costco run, but we picked up a few things. Paul is leaving Tuesday and coming back on Sunday, so there wasn’t any point to doing a big shop there. I ordered pizza from That’s Amore in Metairie to be delivered, and we settled in for a nice evening watching the season finale of Heated Rivalry (more on that later), before Paul went up to work on the upstairs while I watched research videos on Youtube.

As I said, Sparky let me sleep in until after nine this morning, which was wild, but doing all that yesterday wore me out, I guess. I wasn’t tired at all yesterday, but clearly went to bed and slept for over ten hours. So, 2026 is clearly going to be, and needs to be, about getting myself into better physical condition, which isn’t going to be easy at sixty-four going on sixty-five. But I look forward to this new challenge! One of my primary goals for 2026 is definitely going to be getting myself into better physical condition. I don’t care about losing weight or how I look; I just want to be able to do things and not exhaust myself. Now that the over-arching fatigue has finally come to an end, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore, but I need stamina more than anything else. The stamina is getting better–I didn’t have to collapse into my easy chair last night when we got home, for an example–but clearly, I depleted energy reserves that needed to be recharged over night. There are some things I need to do that I could do today, but I don’t know that I’ll get to them or have the motivation to do them. I mean, the television itself is going to be an enormous, if necessary, pain in the ass–just remembering the passwords for streaming services and other apps is going to be nightmarish and will undoubtedly wind up with me having to reset any number of passwords. Heavy heaving sigh. I do want to get some reading and writing done today, too. I think I’ll finish this, put the dishes away, and read for a while before getting cleaned up and setting up the television.

So, Heated Rivalry. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this final episode (until 2027), but what we got was a very sweet episode that ended with the boys ultimately coming out to Shane’s parents. This is a perfect set up for the next season–they are a couple now, with a plan to keep things quiet publicly, coming up with a charity they can start together as well as Ilya changing teams to Ottawa, so they will live only a few hours apart–which I was wondering about. I know the book series focuses on a different couple with each new story, so I was wondering how that would work–would they do a Bridgerton, or will they continue to focus on Shane and Ilya? I enjoyed this show a lot more than I expected to, honestly; I would also recommend it highly. I’m not going to go into more detail because I am going to do a newsletter about it, trying to ground it within the realm of queer media representation…and how glad I was that it wasn’t an American show, which never seems to really (with a few exceptions) get things right.

And I still have another day off! Whee!

And on that note, I am going to let Sparky have my desk chair and head into the spice mines to read for a moment. Have a great day, and I’ll be here tomorrow–probably earlier.

I love misty nights in New Orleans…