Brrrr. It’s in the forties this morning (AIEEEE!!!!) and the temperature will hold steady for the day, and won’t stop dropping until about bedtime tonight, when it will drop some more and the wind chill will start falling. I should sleep super-well tonight, and am glad I don’t have to go to work until Tuesday (if then)–and the winter storm watch has gone into effect already. I need to go make another grocery run today–there were things I forgot (of course) yesterday, and I was hoping to make it to the gym later as well. My shoulder feels odd this morning, which isn’t the great, and I am wondering about resting it for another day and potentially going tomorrow? Or am I just being incredibly lazy? That could also be the case, am I looking for yet another excuse to not go to the gym? I don’t think so. I think I’m going to finish writing this, spend some time with Bemused (which is delightful) and maybe go run that errand quickly and get it out of the way, and just go to the gym later on in the afternoon, after I’ve gotten some cleaning and writing done? Who knows? It would probably be easiest to do the gym and then go to the store and get it all done at one time (me trying to be efficient as always, but I don’t need to conserve my time anymore, either; I just have to not waste time anymore.
We watched Carry-on last night, which was fun, despite the plot being full of holes. Jason Bateman continues to be the best Bateman; he brought a very creepy intensity with his very calmness to the role, and of course Taron Edgerton is adorable and charismatic and always very fun to watch. I won’t get into whether the story would work in the real world or not–action adventure suspense movies don’t really give two shits about realism anymore–and the reason for that is I haven’t worked in an airport for nigh-on thirty years (groan) now, and things most likely are very different from when I worked there; 9/11 changed airports forever, and I was a pre-9/11 airline employee who was very glad to be out of the industry when 9/11 did happen. I mean, it was entertaining enough to hold our interest for two hours–I did keep checking the Commanders/Lions score, though, because I love Jayden Daniels (one of only two quarterbacks for LSU in the last decade to beat Alabama), and love how much Commanders fans are falling for That Kid Jayden the way LSU fans did)–but it was entertaining enough. We also watched a Swedish show called The Breakthrough yesterday–a crime story–but it wasn’t that interesting and was actually kind of dull; Paul kept dozing off and I kept turning to my iPad, so that was a waste of time. Do not recommend.
I woke up earlier than usual–around seven thirty this morning–but it’s fine; I’ve been sleeping too late and need to get back into the habit of getting up early, and now I have my entire morning to get things done around here. My coffee is going down very nicely, too, I might add, and I do need to eat something so I can take my meds this morning. It’s also sunny out with no clouds in the sky, so it’s beautiful out if cold. It was gorgeous yesterday, to be honest; I didn’t wear a jacket as I ran yesterday’s errands and it was lovely–after the morning rain, of course. The wind is supposed to start picking up soon–gusts of up to thirty miles per hour, which makes it feel ten degrees colder outside than it actually is (wind chill!) so will definitely be needing a coat when I go outside today. I do feel warm and relaxed and comfortable here in the house, which means I’ll feel super cozy when I get into my chair to read this morning. I do feel contented this morning, despite the looming deadlines and the messy house. I’m not sure why that is, this morning being the last good day this country will be having for a very long time, but there it is. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking of the joke of a shitshow this country is going to be effective tomorrow, but it does seem that Americans are finally waking up to the fact that we are not, in fact, the greatest country in the world and it’s kind of eye-opening to see that socialist countries have a much better quality of life than we do with all our so-called “freedoms.” American exceptionalism is a very heady drug and more addicting (and dangerous) than heroin–because if you think you are already living in the greatest country in history, why does it need to be improved? That mindset has already been pushed on us by the worst abusers–the wealthy class–so they can continue to rob us blind and they take everything away from us, and we should be grateful they let us even have the minimal amount of crumbs.
I didn’t write very much yesterday–I was mentally fatigued from the week–and so I decided to just let my mind relax and be free, and of course I came up with a fantastic idea for a book as well as solved the issue with “Festival of the Redeemer,” so that should make finishing that a lot easier, and am most pleased about that; the title of the new idea is Diabolical, and I love that one-word title, which seems to be the direction I am going with non-series titles. (I also got to see potential covers for Hurricane Season Hustle yesterday, and I cannot wait to share the final one with y’all, as it’s pretty cool and a new favorite cover for me. Woo-hoo! Now to write the damned thing, you know?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely last day before the fall of the country, okay? I will try to do the same.
Here we are on a cold Sunday morning and I hope everyone is doing as well as they can this morning. I went to bed early and slept well–I really do think adding another to the pile of blankets, and its additional weight, is making a difference. Today I have to do some reading and some writing, go to the gym and make groceries. I feel rested and awake this morning, so as I slurp down my coffee and wake up while Sparky wants my lap in the easy chair I have to admit I feel pretty good this morning. Maybe I shouldn’t let myself sleep so late on Saturdays? I don’t know, but the coffee is hitting the spot and I do feel more rested than I did yesterday, so your guess is as good as mine. It’s kind of gray outside this morning, and it’s forty degrees–yikes–but it’ll get warmer later once the sun is higher in the sky.
We watched LSU Gymnastics compete against three of the best teams in the country yesterday, and with half of their usual competitors out with an injury, they only came in second by three tenths of a point; and Haleigh Bryant can make that difference up all by herself, not to mention the other two powerhouses who sat this meet out–which bodes well for the rest of the season. It’s so cool knowing they are the defending national champions! We also watched some of the Australian Open last night, and I went to bed early. I also managed to get some chores done around here, and overall, it was a pretty good day. I don’t think I even went outside yesterday, to be honest–which is always a good day for me.
I spent some time yesterday morning with Ode to Billy Joe, and while Raucher is a very good writer, he doesn’t really know how to write for teenagers, I think. Just because the story is set in the early 1950s and people were more innocent (?) back then in theory, it’s almost like reading something from a past civilization, and in some ways it kind of is. Raucher tries very hard not to condescend to rural Southerners, but there is a touch of that “zoo animal” thing to the story, if that makes any sense? It doesn’t quite seem real, and Bobbie Lee, the female lead, seems so child-like it’s hard to believe she’s supposed to be fourteen, and “receiving callers”–did Southern girls still say that in the 1950’s? It’s like something from The Glass Menagerie, and I don’t know if that archaic social phrase was in use, if at all. But there’s definitely more depth to the book than there was to the movie, and I think I’m going to end up enjoying the book more than I did the movie–despite the beautiful presence of Robby Benson and his amazing blue eyes and surprisingly deep voice.
Thinking of Ode to Billy Joe being a historical now made me realize that my own 70s book is kind of an artifact of another time, too. Researching and remembering things from that time of my life is always a bit of a surprise; things that had been locked away in a corner of my brain coming back to the front of the memory banks. Television shows and commercials, the looming Bicentennial (which was, at the time, shockingly commercialized; although the Tricentennial–which I won’t make it to, but hopefully the country will–will be even worse), the gas shortages and economic fears, the ever-present threat of nuclear war and annihilation, the never-ending conflicts in the Middle East, and the massive clean-up of the country’s air, water and litter. Top Forty radio was a weird mishmash of all kinds of music, from the bubblegum of the Osmonds to the Rolling Stones, Queen, and the Who to horrible novelty songs that were incredibly popular and were overplayed to death to the point I never want to hear any of them ever again, and everyone watched American Bandstand on Saturdays to hear music and see the latest dance moves. I am really looking forward to writing it. I also have two short stories to complete sooner rather than later, and of course as always I have too much to do in too little time–but I can make it work.
I’ve also, since the election, been thinking about how to resist the new regime and the inherent hatreds, cruelties, and horrors that are coming with them. Our only hope as a country depends on the Republican-controlled Senate (well, Republicans plus the bootlicking traitor John Fetterman) actually standing up for the Constitution, and looking for a spine on the Right is as fruitless as a snipe hunt. I am not getting involved with the Democratic Party, because it feels like I’ve been throwing my time, money and energy on them while they just roll over and play dead since the 1990s; and nowadays seems to be no different. Here’s the thing about our system; the only difference between the two parties since World War II has primarily been on domestic and interior policy; the foreign policy has always been the same, and a lot of bad things have been done by our government in the name of “national security” and our endless thirst for oil. This changed a bit under the MAGA monarchy the last time around–turning our backs on traditional allies while cozying up to Russia, North Korea, and China (Ivanka needs her trademarks!). I also love how the MAGAts are so quick to whine and complain against the forever wars they fully supported, and does anyone else remember their toxic patriotism on the eves of the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq? How questioning the invasion decisions was basically treason and not supporting the military and pissing on the graves of the 9/11 dead? Because I sure the fuck do, and I also remember how the Right created cancel culture for the Dixie Chicks, as country music began to swing from being about the working class and resisting the rich? It’s also amusing to me that they complain about “forever wars” without remembering that the same people they are supporting today are the exact same people who lied to them and whipped them up into a disgusting “patriotic” frenzy?
I spent some time this weekend thinking about writing as activism, and that it used to be just that; my very existence and my career are made political by evangelicals and others of their ilk, and I had no say in that at all. Would I prefer to be left alone to live my life and make my own decisions without government interference? Absolutely. Is that ever going to happen? Not as long as trash and liars and false prophets continue to abuse the faith and the faithful for money, power, and control. How can anyone actually be a Christian and believe that the Prosperity Gospel of wolves in sheep’s clothing like Joel Osteen and other con artists of his ilk? Sinclair Lewis exposed all of this horror with Elmer Gantry, which is still as current as it was when first published in the early 20th century. Maybe Elmer Gantry, along with All the King’s Men, should be required reading in high school–but high schoolers won’t care anymore now than they did when I was one. (Also, back to the 1970s–there wasn’t an expectation that everyone would go to college, either. Only five kids from my graduating class went to college, I think, I could be off by one or two, out of forty-eight.) I’ve not thought of my writing as a way to make political statements–or at least I haven’t in a long time, at any rate, but someone pointed out to me several years ago (or longer, who knows anymore?) that my work was a lot more important than I’ve ever thought or believed; I did document what gay life was like in New Orleans before Hurricane Katrina changed everything. I also documented life in New Orleans in general, before , during and after a hurricane. I’ve written about gay con artists and corrupt hateful politicians and the far right and evangelicals and race and homophobia and misogyny. I often explore something that I find interesting in my books so I can learn more about the topic I am writing about as well as process my own complicated feelings about sensitive subjects. I even wrote a throuple into the Scotty series long before that ever became a subject for conversation in the community. It’s weird to think that my first two novels were released before Lawrence overturned sodomy laws nationally. My sex-life was against the law until I was forty-two. Forty fucking two.
I was filling out the pre-production form for Hurricane Season Hustle Friday, and I went to Amazon to look at the page for Mississippi River Mischief to see if information I needed was there–it wasn’t–but I also noticed I have forty-seven reviews and an average ranking of four and a half stars, which was kind of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. That meant that overall there had to be more five star reviews than any other kind, else the average wouldn’t be over four, you know? This was a very pleasant surprise, in all honesty; I never look at Amazon pages for my books and especially never at the reviews; likewise, I will never go wading in the fetid swamp that is Goodreads. Who needs that aggravation? But as I said, it was a pleasant surprise, one that almost tempted me to look at the others, but I resisted the urge. I am more emotionally stable now than I’ve ever been in my life before, but why borrow trouble? And sure, it could be another ego boost but it could also be a blow.
And the last thing I need right now is something to rock my already shaky foundations.
California continues to burn, and people continue to expose how dark and twisted their souls and psyches are. It’s beginning to sound like most of these fires were started as arson–which would definitely count as a terrorist attack on Los Angeles, in my opinion; if Luigi shooting that fucking piece of shit counts as terrorism, burning down billions of dollars of property and destroying people’s lives as well as killing some of them definitely is an act if terror. Please don’t be a dick about the fires on-line, people. I’ve lived through a different kind of “act of God” that basically destroyed my city and generational wealth with it. Angelenos are still in shock and are going to be for a long time. This is a serious trauma, and believe me when I say a lot of Angelenos are going to be medicated for years to come. I’m still not entirely sure I’ve gotten over Katrina, in all honesty. So, for God’s sake, show some empathy and compassion for their suffering. Playing the blame game or bringing politics into this is fucking bullshit, so can you not do that? There’s no place in this country that is safe from an unexpected natural disaster.
And trust me, when it happens to you–you will hate those people. I’ve never forgiven any of them, including Chicago Bears fans. I had hoped that disgusting child rapist Dennis Hastert would die in prison, but he remains proof that only the good die young. Henry Kissinger and Anita Bryant is more evidence of that as well.
So, think before you post or comment. I hate Florida and Texas and their politics, but I also worry about them and try to do what I can whenever a hurricane devastates them.
And if you’re feeling smug and judgy–I’m looking at you in particular, Louisiana MAGA racists, remember that when a hurricane comes crashing through your home town.
And on that note, I am going to my chair to read my book for a bit before I get to work. I worked on the book yesterday and it went very well; I am feeling good about writing again and think I am going to be able to hit my stride again sometime soon. Huzzah! Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll talk to you again later at some point.
Sunday morning and the last day of my little staycation. It began with stomach distress, and is ending on a morning where I feel pretty good and rested. I didn’t do much of anything this entire time, other than chores and some cleaning and filing and organizing, but while not pushing myself to an insane level, I hope to get some things done today. I am punishing myself by not allowing myself to watch today’s Saints game; I am also going to try not to turn on the television itself until after five sometime this evening. Yesterday I ran my errands in the morning and did some more cleaning around the house while listening to music, and then turned on the television for football games. I watched some of Tennessee-Vanderbilt (was really pulling for Vanderbilt), some of the Iron Bowl and some of Arkansas-Missouri, and then watched LSU-Oklahoma for the grand finale of the day. The Tigers won (yay!) 37-17, and there were some upsets–Ohio State lost to Michigan again; Syracuse upset Miami; South Carolina surprised Clemson–so it has, indeed, been a wacky season. I also finished reading The Rival Queens, which was a lot of fun, and started reading my new fiction read (Winter Counts by David Heska Wanbli Weiden, which I’ve been wanting to read for several years now; lovely man, too) and my new non-fiction read, Erik Larson’s The Demon of Unrest, about the lead up to the fall of Fort Sumter after Lincoln was elected president. It’s very good–I love Larson’s work–and it’s kind of timely, particularly in reference to the division in today’s country, and it’s been a while since I’ve read a Civil War narrative (the last was Gore Vidal’s Lincoln), so it’s kind of interesting to dive into it.
I am going to try to do some writing today. I want to reread Hurricane Season Hustle again, and pull everything together on it, as well as to start perhaps revising some of my short stories and to finish an essay for the substack; I have several percolating, but the one I am leaning towards working on is “Recovering Christian,” which is about my relationship to religion and to God, really, and how being groomed to be religious as a child can be very detrimental to that child’s well-being. Ooooh, look at me taking on organized Christianity. ’bout time, as some would say. I remember when, growing up, the rules for polite society and conversation were that you never talked about money, religion, or politics. It certainly hasn’t helped anything that these things have all so much in the zeitgeist, ever since the unholy marriage of evangelical Christianity and the Reagan Republicans. I always took freedom of religion and the separation of church and state very seriously; reading so much History, particularly of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when the soil of Europe was soaked with blood over faith (The Rival Queens details that struggle in France after 1559) had a lot to do with it, just as that recent history drove the founders to put up explicit blocks to keep government and religion from being poisoned by each other–which is where we are now. Modern day Christians are driving believers away even as they grasp for more power.
I also figured out yesterday that the reason I was so lethargic on Friday was because it was too cold in the apartment. I was shivering yesterday morning–it was colder yesterday morning than it was Friday–when I remember, d’oh, the heat works properly now so I switched the upstairs and downstair thermostats to heat and within an hour, the apartment was toasty and warm and bearable. It is lovely again this morning (thank you, heater!), but I can also tell it’s cold again this morning–the windows around my desk always let me know how cold it is outside! (When I think about how much we used to freeze around here until the old system died…) In fact, Sparky is a kitty puddle in my easy chair right now, curled up inside the folds of the blanket resting in the chair–he’s always needier and cuddlier when it’s cold. He wouldn’t leave my chair yesterday, even when I’d get up for something to eat or drink–he stayed inside the blankets and waited for me to come back, which he never does. He usually runs ahead of me into the kitchen every time I get up to beg for food or treats or both. He also started trying to get me up around five this morning.
I am not berating myself for using this time off to rest and recalibrate and to get ready to sprint to the end of the year. I’ve got some chores to do this morning, but I am going to read for a bit with my morning coffee first, get cleaned up, and then try to seriously tackle this downstairs, which has been out of control due to my own laziness for quite some time. I need to take these rugs out and shake them, then replaced and vacuumed to within an inch of their life, and I also should do the stairs. Paul will be home Tuesday night (thank God), and then we have a few weeks before the disruptions of Christmas and New Year’s. A new year of horrors is coming; hard to get excited about that, you know? But my role in the resistance this time is to call out bullshit and lies and bigotry whenever I see it or experience it. If it makes me a target, it makes me a target; as a gay author, I am already on a list somewhere, you can be sure of that–my money’s on the Family Research Council, anything that has to do with that fetid Dobson family, and Tony Perkins. So, if they are going to come for me anyway, may as well go down swinging.
And on that rather somber note, I am heading into the spice mines for the rest of the day. I may be back later–I’m debating doing a post on The Rival Queens–but will most definitely be back tomorrow morning before I start my new work week. Have a lovely Sunday, and I’ll talk to you later, Constant Reader.
Thursday and I am off for doctors’ appointments today. I got to sleep a little later this morning (other than getting up to give Sparky breakfast, after which I went back to bed happily for a little more time), and I can leisurely take my time going from appointment to appointment. The first is in Metairie–eyes and new glasses–and then I get to go to a dermatologist for the first time in about fifteen or so years. I’ve been using the same stuff to try to control my eczema (or psoriasis, I’m not sure which is the one I have because I’ve been told both at different times)1, and I want to primarily see if there’s another way to treat/control it. After I am done with those things, I’ll run my errands and then come home to read, write, and clean. I work at home again tomorrow morning, and have some on-line trainings to get through before I am free for the weekend again. Huzzah!
I was tired when I got home last night, but I did work on a short story for a bit before becoming a Sparky bed. There’s plenty of stuff to keep me occupied around here this morning–including a sink full of dishes–and I have things that I want to do once the appointments are over. Tomorrow is my remote day (which I’ve always called “work-at-home” day, but this is the terminology my employer uses, so I should use it as well), which is nice and I have a lot of on-line trainings to get done before the end of the month…can’t really believe it’s almost November already, can you? I also need to get back to work on the book. I signed the contract for Hurricane Season Hustle last night, so the book is absolutely going to happen. The release date will be in the fall, but I’m not sure of the exact date at the moment.
We finished watching season 3 of American Horror Stories last night, and while the final episodes weren’t really my favorites (although I did like the final one of the season), I’ve had to revise my theory that the show’s not good overall. There was surprisingly little gay content (there was a gay episode that was delightfully twisty and creepy from whence it began), which was disappointing–and less gratuitous sexy male bodies than I would ordinarily expect from a Ryan Murphy show for sure. The show itself is nothing terribly new, just a modern reboot of The Twilight Zone or Tales from the Crypt–both being shows I loved, I must point out–so some episodes are better than others, but the lesser ones are entertaining enough, and the twisty endings are surprising in many cases. I do love a good plot twist–Ira Levin was such a master of these, as was Daphne du Maurier; which is partly why I love them both so much. I really do need to find my copy of Rosemary’s Baby…
It’s weird to be almost finished with October, isn’t it? Of course, the beginning of the year now seems like it was a million years ago, and I don’t really remember much of Carnival this year. I didn’t have to go out of town during it this year, and probably won’t next year, either. I kind of want to enjoy parade season this year, in all honesty. We haven’t really been able to enjoy ourselves for several years during Carnival now, and it would be nice to get back into the spirit of the entire thing again, rather than simply thinking of it as a nuisance. I mean, I always thought it was a nuisance before the first parades started rolling, but I always got back into it the further into the parades we got. These last three or four years? Not so much, so I hope this year will be different.
We can but hope. I don’t think I will be as exhausted as I was the last few years, either.
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and have some breakfast. Not much exciting to write about this morning, was there? My apologies. I hope to be more entertaining at some point in the future. Until then, adieu!
Next week I get to see the podiatrist to see if I have arthritis in my toes. ↩︎
Work at home Friday! I have a meeting at ten and then I get to do work-at-home duties for a few hours before I can end my work day and dive back into working on the book. I am having to be a bit more careful this time, as my memory isn’t as good as it used to be and I have been making this up as I go so far, so there are no notes for me to look at and think ah yes, the nurse’s name was this or Aunt Del’s second husband’s last name was NOT Alencon, so last night I reread the first four chapters of this masterpiece in progress and wasn’t disgusted, appalled and/or embarrassed at the terrible writing. (It is excruciatingly awful.) But I was writing down the names of the characters and who they are so I can start constructing back stories as well as who they are, and that will lead to more story and more characters. I also have to synopsize and outline those chapters as well…which also made me realize I have to look up the names of Scotty’s parents and grandparents, which means going through the books, which means…I should just start rereading them and pulling together the Scotty Bible at long last. That is my plan for this weekend; to work on pulling together information that is necessary out of the previous volumes and revising the current chapters. I am also really proud of myself for recognizing this work is necessary to make writing the rest easier and fix the mistakes in these early chapters.
I am also up way earlier than I need to be, but I woke up at six. Sparky actually was sleeping with me this morning when I woke up, which is progress on the cuddling front. I woke up at six, and was awake so figured might as well stay up if I am already, you know? My coffee is good and I am a little groggy, but taking a shower once I finish writing this will help with that, and I can get started on my work-at-home duties and be free earlier, which is really nice,..and I can use this afternoon to catch up on chores and get started on the Scotty Bible, which is cool and exciting. Should I be this excited to be writing another Scotty? I don’t know if it’s the writing Scotty that has me so high or if it’s just writing in general? I also don’t have a contract yet, so they may not even want it. But that’s not anything to worry about right now, either. I am just going to stay laser-focused on writing. The apartment isn’t that bad this morning, really. Tomorrow I have an eye appointment to get a new prescription so I can order new glasses, but other than that and college football, there’s really not much going on for us around here. I do want to watch The Deliverance this weekend. So many possibilities!
Our wretched governor this week asked LSU to start bringing Mike the Tiger back into the stadium for football games this season. I do love that tiger (I even made him the focal point of one of my Scotty books), he is stunningly beautiful, and I remember the year they decided to stop bringing Mike into the stadium. (This was the previous Mike.) The rule always was they wouldn’t sedate him and if he refused to get in the trailer, they wouldn’t try to make him. Previous Mike that entire year refused, and so…no Mike. It was disappointing to me the few games I went to that year–Mike’s entrance into the stadium was always one of my favorite parts of the game. The next year, they decided not to try, and I also think the veterinary school also realized that bringing him into the stadium is probably not the best thing for a tiger. There’s a lot of people, a lot of noise, and if he gets upset or irritated or anxious during a game, there’s no getting him out of the stadium again until half-time or the game ends–and what if the fans rush the field? He’s secure in his trailer, of course, but why upset a big animal who was rescued from a bad situation who’s finally getting used to being taken care of and spoiled? I myself began to realize, the longer more time passed and there was no tiger in the stadium, I rethought the whole thing. Whether there should be a wild animal habitat on campus or not is an entirely different argument, and one I am undecided about the right answer, and know that my reluctance to say its not good has a lot to do with my affection for that tiger.
I’ve also begun to really understand two things about college football (and life for that matter) is that when someone talks about tradition, they’re just saying “we’ve always done it this way” and change is scary; and a lot of the time tradition is what keeps problems festering for decades.
I also think the Governor making demands of our flagship university is not good for the school or the state. If you want to interfere with LSU, Governor Landry, why don’t you pump some more money into the school? Cut tuition? Repair or replace some of the crumbling buildings on campus? No, his only interest in LSU is the athletic teams and showing how powerful he is. He clearly doesn’t give a shit about education in Louisiana, especially if he actually believes having the Ten Commandments displayed in every classroom in the state will improve somehow our educational system…when what it actually is another form of the right’s “thoughts and prayers” bullshit they trot out whenever they try to force us to believe their corrupted faith and think that holy bandage they stick on the problem will make things better somehow.
Leaving things to God’s will is an abdication of morality and responsibility; the proverbial “Pilate washing his hands”. And is that what we need leading the state?
I am beginning to remember that the reason I try not to follow state politics more closely than I do is because it leads to fucking despair.
Right-wing media (which is apparently bought and paid for by the Kremlin) have been trying to hide their overt racism lately by using code, what is more commonly known as “dog whistles.” The latest is this “the Vice-President is a phony because she talks differently to different people”, which basically means “straight white people don’t do this so there must be some nefariously horrible reason for this.” No, douchebags, it’s more of a protective coloring, like chameleons, that marginalized people all develop because straight white people can be so fucking awful. One example of this is my parents had very pronounced rural Alabama accents, which began to fade over the years after they left, but it’s still there. Paul used to always love when I talked to my parents on the phone because my own accent comes out, and it would usually take about an hour or so for me to get back to the way I normally talk. I learned how to speak with an accent, which I also quickly learned to disguise in elementary school because it was very clear to me that the way I spoke made people assume I was stupid. It’s not just my family, either, that triggers my accent; whenever I speak to anyone who has one mine comes back out–my brain is coded that other people with Southern accents are safe. Likewise, hard as it is to believe but I also tone myself down when I’m around a majority of straight people I don’t know. This is why gay bars were so important for so long–after a week of coding myself as either “less gay” or “blend in don’t bring attention to yourself”, going to a gay bar where I could completely be myself without worry of losing either my job or being attacked was an enormous release, and I know I’m not the only gay man who saw the bars as a conduit to community and safety. That’s why it kind of bothers me that straight people come to gay bars and hang out because the vibe is so different than straight bars; their presence makes the safe space not as safe, and sometimes it makes them uncomfortable to be a minority and they act out. I suppose it’s kinder to say “straight people need to be more respectful of queer safe spaces.” That’s always been a problem, and really–bachelorette bridal parties need to stay out of gay bars because drunk straight white girls can be the absolute fucking worst.
And don’t come to our bars for entertainment if you don’t support our equality.
Yes, ladies, you’re super-cool for making asses out of yourself in queer bars, and oh so tolerant for gifting us and our spaces with your presence. I know that things have changed since I was younger, and the younger queer generations aren’t so rigid about separating their lives because they don’t have to, and I am all for that. Straight kids and queer kids absolutely should be friends, should hang out, and the sexuality thing shouldn’t make a difference, which is what we’ve always said. Younger generations don’t need that safe space as much, at least in the cities, the way we used to need it. I haven’t set foot in a gay bar in years, so maybe the entire culture has changed, and again, this is how things used to be is not a compelling argument against change. Maybe I’m just that old man who’s out of step with the young ones these days, and I do catch myself all the time questioning things I’ve always thought and believed and are reflexive; I’ve spent a lot of time the last few years sorting things out in my head, and seeing things with the clarity distance provides.
I was wrong about so many things. I blame public education, for teaching me American Mythology instead of US History.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later. Thanks for checking in!
Work at home Friday, and the eve of the three day Labor Day weekend. It’s Bouchercon in Nashville and Southern Decadence in New Orleans, and I am not leaving my house today. It’s going to rain all day, for one, and I am a little worn down from the week. That’s normal, thank God, and maybe I am getting the point where my routine is becoming, well, routine. I’ve commented endlessly here how weird it is that I’d start the week tired, and get more rested and energetic the deeper into the week I’d get; so it bears commenting that this week was kind of normal, getting more tired rather than energetic as the week wore on. I managed to get home from work yesterday between storms, and alas, it looks as those it’s going to rain all weekend, which sucks if you came to New Orleans to hang out in the streets of the Fruit Loop to have a good time. But we gays are nothing if not a problem-solving make-the-best-of-everything people, and I know folks will have a great time while they are here. I was too tired to write anything last night, which I figured would happen, and it was fine. Paul and I mostly watched the US Open, then I watched the CNN interview with the Democratic nominees before going to bed relatively early; I did some things around the kitchen last night before going to bed. I definitely need to clean it/straighten it up today before doing my work-at-home duties.
I was tired.
I am glad that I am about to have a three day weekend; I’m even more delighted that it’s going to rain all day–with thunderstorms, which are my absolute favorite. I do love the rain here, and I probably write about about rain far too much in my books, but rain is definitely one of the things that you can’t ignore if you’re writing about New Orleans. This entire book I am writing now is around a tropical storm that I’ve invented (Clothilde) and I am torn between making it a tropical storm or a Category 1. I also want to try something different with this book, making it more of a challenge to write, but we’ll see how that goes. It’s so nice to feel excited about writing again, Constant Reader! Huzzah indeed! Now if I can get my brain rejiggered to start reading again, all will be well in my world. Paul also is going to be out of the house all day–meetings and so forth–so it’ll just be me and the Demon Cat Sparky. I can live with that, I think. Paul’s also going to bring pizza from Midway on Freret, which is amazing. Huzzah! No worries about making dinner tonight!
As you can tell, I woke up in a pretty good mood this morning, which is always a lovely thing. I feel rested and awake this morning, my coffee tastes amazing, and Sparky is galloping around playing with a bottle cap (no need to buy His Majesty any toys when he’s fine with either an empty box or a bottle cap). I have a meeting at ten to start my work day, and I am just going to take it easy, answer some emails, and pick up around here before that rolls around. I am hoping to finish Chapter Three of the book today–I’m at a transition, and I did start moving on from where I’d left off on Wednesday, but only a paragraph before I petered out. I want to finish Three and possibly start 4 today, and then tomorrow before I write I’ll go ahead and review what is already done and add some things and probably take some out. I also need to start rereading the backlist, and this weekend might be a good time to tackle that Scotty Bible I’ve been wanting to, and maybe make some progress on the copy edit of Jackson Square Jazz so I can get that back into availability. Next year Scotty turns 22, Jackson Square Jazz turns 21, and maybe I can celebrate the longevity of the series around its original publication date. I have the time now to promote myself more, and that’s kind of what I need to be doing. I’m also having to get used to having free time that’s not just blowing things off for a day or two, and that means getting used to not feeling guilty for taking a day off from my writing career to let my brain rest.
It’s weird not having all that outside pressure on me anymore. I mean, I’m still grieving, of course, but it’s nothing I can’t handle anymore, and of course I’m still not entirely recovered physically from the surgery yet (my own fault, for not pushing myself to do my rehab exercises the way I should have–see? There’s always something I can beat myself up over). But it’s also incredibly freeing, and of course last year was one of those awful years that happen in my life from time to time. Yet I’m always reminded that I’m still overall pretty lucky. How can anyone complain when their dreams have all come true?
I also concluded yesterday (Katrina anniversary–which may have accounted for being tired yesterday; there’s still residual PTSD around that date) that I am going to start paying more attention to Louisiana’s horrific policies and our monstrous governor and his rubber-stamp legislature, and perhaps addressing them? I’ve never written much on here about how horrible living in the Project 2025 testing ground can be–but at least I live in the big blue dot of New Orleans, so I am spared the worst of it. There has yet to be a stare-down between the city and the state but I do know our city council is very defiant and anti-Landry’s fascistic tendencies, which makes me love this city all the more.
And no one has yet explained to me how having the Ten Commandments displayed in public school classrooms will fix the roads and the levees while reducing poverty and illiteracy in Louisiana. I suspect I’ll be waiting a really long time…interestingly enough, of all things, LSU is defying the governor, who issued a ridiculous executive order demanding college and university sports teams cancel scholarships for athletes who are not present during the playing of the national anthem before the game. LSU’s football team would all lose their scholarships because of this; the tradition in Tiger Stadium is the band goes out and plays the Pregame, then the National Anthem, and then the band makes a tunnel for the team to run out on the field while the band plays another one of LSU’s fight songs (there are quite a few, and several were written by Huey Long). Decades of tradition and pregame hype vs. expelling the entire team?
Yeah, Landry’s not going to mess with the football team–or any of the LSU teams, really.
And on that note, here comes today’s first storm, and I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later!
My apologies in advance, for I am feeling a bit smug this morning.
Suffice it to say, deciding to flex and exercise my writing muscles again with a new Scotty was an incredibly smart decision. I started with a very slow, hesitant 1300 words on Sunday that took about four hours to do…and then when I got home from work last night, blasted out a quick 2000 more (about an hour or so) that not only advanced the story (which I was making up as I went) and now I am starting to get there. I’ve also not created a Scotty completely from scratch in a very long time, starting with nothing more than a situation and a title and making it up as I go along. And you know what?
It fucking felt fantastic. Highly recommended, would definitely do again.
I’m kind of excited about getting home tonight (after making groceries) and writing even more!
I also channeled that momentum into finishing the dishes and cleaning out the sink once I’d printed out the pages from yesterday. All the dishes are clean, and Paul finished the laundry for me while I was at the office, bless his heart. After finishing the chores, we watched a few episodes of Solar Opposites, which is fantastic, and then I caught up on the news and so forth before heading to bed. A rather exciting Gregalicious evening, no? I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to let whatever it is take over and bang out those 2k words last night–and they aren’t bad, either. Huzzah for me! I also ordered pizza for dinner last night, which was also really good and hit the spot. It was quite a lovely Monday from start to finish, frankly, and I never really felt tired all day, either. This morning I am awake, firing on most cylinders and have no desire or need to go back to bed, and that’s terrific, too.
And my, this coffee is tasty this morning.
Not a bad way at all of starting the day, and not at all a bad way to feel on Tuesday morning, either. It’s lovely when you have a couple of really good days when you feel like yourself again. The missing piece in my life has been the writing, honestly, and now that I am starting (no guarantees it will last, after all, or that I’ll feel that way every morning going forward) to get back into the groove of writing again, I remember feeling this good before and I want to keep feeling this good, you know? It’s so easy to have a down day and then turn that into a malaise that lasts far too long for my comfort. I’m still feeling my way through this recovery-from-everything period, and it’s really kind of nice. It really does feel like there was a dark cloud in my brain for years, keeping me from relaxing or even being able to enjoy the thrills and good parts of authoring. I’ve often mused about my not being able to ever be able to actually enjoy the highs of my career and being me because there’s always something clouding my neurons and synapses. It was very cool being nominated for three Anthony Awards last year (and I lost all three), and an Agatha and a Lefty. That’s five award nominations in a year, with no wins, but I don’t really mind not winning, much as I joke about being such a unrelenting awards loser–but a lot of writers are never nominated for even one writing award, and I certainly never saw myself as ever being nominated for any mainstream awards, so each one is truly a wonderful blessing.
And it’s a lot of fun pretending to be bitter about always losing awards.
Everyone is beginning to start their Bouchercon travels, which is popping up all over my social media feeds, and is giving me serious FOMO. But it’s simply not in the cards for me to head up to Bouchercon this year, and I think taking a full year away from conferences and so forth while readjusting and settling into my life again is probably a good idea. It’s also kind of a good thing that I had/have so much free and down time over the last year or so; not only to mentally and physically recover but to reassess and rethink a lot of things. It’s not so much that I have a new attitude (although I do) about my career and life, but I need to take more time to be appreciative of how lucky I’ve been, and how much my hard work has paid off over the years.
It’s very easy to confuse wanting greater success with feeling like a failure because you aren’t there, and that is something I definitely need to remember.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I probably won’t be back later; but hey–stranger things have happened.
Monday morning after a lovely weekend, and we have Labor Day coming up this weekend. Huzzah! I am a little bleary for being up so early this morning, but I don’t feel tired, just not completely awake yet. The good news is I wrote thirteen hundred words of the new Scotty yesterday, and feel very smug and pleased about it. At first I was concerned when the tap was turned off, 1300 words is nothing compared to my old output, but I realized those muscles are tight and haven’t really been used as thoroughly or regularly as I should, so they are going to need to be retrained, just like I need to be retrained with regular going to the gym. I have to slowly build back up so I don’t strain or pull one of those muscles. The weekend was nice–low humidity, and the so the temperatures didn’t feel as brutal, especially since we’ve gotten used to it “feeling like” over 110 for almost two solid months. Yeesh. I think the humidity is coming back today; I know we may have rain this afternoon. But overall, this morning I feel pretty good–at least so far–and am ready to get some stuff done.
It really is lovely to have the weekends free from everything, you know? I didn’t get nearly as much work done on the house as I would have liked, but at the same I worry the lack of pressure or any anxiety driving me is making me a bit more lackadaisical when it comes to things…despite intellectually knowing that my brain has been rewired so I have to rewire everything else to get things done. It’s a learning process, and I had thought I had my routines and so forth down to a science. And hopefully, this time around I will not teach myself the bad habits I allowed to develop over the years. We shall see, won’t we? I did also rethink some of this stuff over the weekend, too. I’ve been so rigid in my writing and how I construct a novel and rarely, if ever, varied that pattern. It was what worked for me then, and I never really had the free time to sit down and figure all of this stuff out. I’m kind of doing that now, and I also think writing two books at the same time (when I was still writing books and hadn’t yet encountered the nightmare that was 2023 kind of broke my writer brain a little bit. It happens, you know? But the rigid way I always used to write my books wasn’t working for Never Kiss a Stranger, and because it’s not my usual kind of crime novel, the unstructured writing of it made it much harder to write. If I am going to finish that book–and I intend to at some point–it needs a plot summary and an outline. Maybe that’s something I can work on while I work on this new Scotty? Stranger things have happened, after all.
Maybe, just maybe, I should do the same with Scotty, rather than making it up as I go? Again, I did that with the first and second, didn’t I? Something indeed to ponder as the three day weekend draws nearer and nearer by the day. I am excited to be writing another Scotty book, because it’s in my comfort zone, and isn’t that where I need to be to get into the swing of persevering with the daily writing, in my comfort zone? I think it’s probably smarter to write another Scotty, and then step out of my comfort zone and go back to Never Kiss a Stranger...although I did remember yesterday why I focused on finishing it in the first place. It developed from me going from finishing the novellas into a collection, realizing this one could be a really good novel, and then moving on to writing it…when what I should have been doing, if I wasn’t doing another Scotty, was finishing either Muscles or Chlorine, and I am going to write one of those next, PERIOD.
But it’s also nice to be putting thought into these things.
On the way home, I am going to stop and make groceries. Once I am there I am going to finish the dishes and laundry, possibly make dinner (or possibly not), and get the rugs back in place in the kitchen. Paul will be home, so I should make something for dinner but I’m not really sure what…and I definitely don’t like deciding while at the store itself what to make for dinner. Pizza would probably be the easiest thing, really; just got one of those premade crusts and slather pizza sauce and cheese over it. I do need to work on my cabinets, but that might be a project for the three-day weekend. I also need to revise and update the to-do list. I feel pretty good this morning, and the nice thing is that my “bad” days now are just more low-energy than depressions as deep as the Grand Canyon, like it was before. I also need to start listening to my body again. I need to stretch regularly, and I need to get back to rehabbing my arm/shoulder at the gym or I will never get back to (as close to) normal (as I can get after the injury and surgery) again. But I’m starting to fall into a routine, I’m not sleepy and groggy until well after ten every morning anymore, and getting up is more about leaving the warmth and comfort of the bed more than anything else.
I hate when I’m comfortable and have to stop.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader. I might be back later–I’m trying to write an essay about toxic masculinity for the Substack, and trying to stick to the “one essay per week” thing there. Or…I may come back over here and try to talk about something, you never know.
Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and yesterday was a rather lovely day, in all honesty. I didn’t put any pressure on myself, but did make some progress on the apartment itself. I cleared out two boxes off the top of the cabinets, and know now what the others are–and know they can simply go into the attic once it is cleared out. This means…I am getting to the point where I can start working on the attic. This pleases me enormously, and there’s some other stuff that needs to be done here in the workspace this morning before I make a minor grocery run. We watched this week’s Bad Monkey, which I am loving, and then some more Solar Opposites. I also managed to get a week’s worth of dishes taken care of–I was really lazy and taking advantage of the entire “birthday week” excuse this week, I am a bit red-faced to admit–and reminded myself to never let it get that bad again…which will last probably about a week.
I also watched the Georgia Tech-Florida State game. I simply flipped over to it while looking for a movie to watch (to no avail; nothing sounded good) to see the score, and saw the end of the second half with the score tied 14-14. That intrigued me enough to continue watching, and it turned out to be a rather good game, as Georgia Tech kicked a field goal on the last play of the game to upset #10 Florida State, 24-21. It was a great game–I do sometimes watch college football when I don’t care about either team–made even greater by the upset win for Georgia Tech (I am not a FSU fan), and that kind of got me into the mood for football season. LSU’s first game is this weekend; Sunday evening in Las Vegas, of all places. I have no idea how good LSU is going to be this year–I am not one of those people who reads analysts and so forth and practice reports; they are meaningless really until it’s actually a game and they’re keeping score. I prefer to be surprised, and college football is always full of surprises. I don’t even pay attention to the NFL preseason, either.
I wasn’t a complete sloth yesterday. I did do some things around the house, and looking around this morning, there’s more that needs to be done. I’m not used to having all this free time, which is the primary adjustment I am having to make in the present day…and it’s kind of nice, you know? I still need to figure out how to be more productive, and how to utilize the time, but I worked so hard for so very long and never had a minute’s peace for so long that it’s just kind of nice to not be worried about things anymore. I plan to spend some time this morning straightening up the kitchen again, and picking things up and filing, and I also want to do the floors. I didn’t leave the house yesterday so I have to make that grocery run today (to make dinner tonight I have to go), but that’s not a big deal, really. It’s nice, though, to not be stressed and anxious about not working in my free time.
I even thought about writing projects yesterday. I am really leaning towards shelving Never Kiss a Stranger for now; I realized yesterday it was one of those stupid “stubbornly obsessive” things that I get into my head every once in a while. I remembered yesterday that originally I had intended to finish my novella collection this summer, which meant working on that, and then I realized it was more of a book than a novella, and decided to write that for the summer. And even though I was having trouble with it on almost every level of turning what I already had into a novel, I was stubbornly refusing to shelve it and move on, which was counter-productive. No one cares if I finish that book now or at some other time, or if I never write it at all. So, I am going to put it aside for now and forget about it for a while. It only makes sense to get back into regular writing with a Scotty book, and a Scotty book will be somewhat easier for me to write…and easier for me to get back into the swing of writing again after so much time away from it.
I also realized that the MAGA meltdown over Gus Walz was an excellent way to open my essay “Are You Man Enough?”, and so I did scribble some notes on that yesterday as well. I am actually kind of looking forward to this work week, believe it or not, and I do think getting to work on another Scotty–Hurricane Season Hustle–will be a lot more fun for me going forward.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.
Sunday morning has rolled around again, and I am feeling pretty good. I slept well again before Sparky decided it was time for me to get up, and he let me sleep later (after he started) without much of a quibble. (I like to pretend he cuddles with me in the mornings before I get up because it’s nice; I know it’s because he wants to know the minute I get up so he can start meowing at me to come downstairs with him.) The closing ceremonies for the Olympics are today, which is a shame, as I always love the Olympics. There really is nothing more patriotic-feeling like rooting for young athletic Americans on the wolrd stage, is there? The fact that this was going on while the tides of our election have seemingly all turned to the positive has really been something. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what patriotism is and what it means to be patriotic–and not in the least little bit because the Right has made patriotism so distasteful and embarrassing. I am seeing the crowds at the Vice-President’s rallies moving to take patriotism back from the Christian Nationalists (the flag, the USA chant, etc.) because what they call patriotism is actually anything but. But the Democratic National Convention is going to be pretty thrilling this year, methinks, reminiscent of another dark period coming to an end–the 2008 election ending the nightmare of the eight years of right-wing control and endless wars and lies. I know I am actually excited about the election now, and while the fear and dread are still there, there’s a lot of joy and optimism.
And what an amazing Olympiad this has been, the haters and agents of darkness aside1! so many great stories, so many redemptions, and so much fun to watch and enjoy as always. It also felt different; maybe the fucked up 2020 Tokyo Olympics caused a reset; it didn’t feel like an Olympics and now, all I did was (besides root for our athletes) be happy for the all the competitors and medalists–I finally developed the proper Olympic spirit that doesn’t villainize great athletes from other countries. I never liked that whole xenophobic need for the US to win the most medals to prove our superiority as a nation; I do not want to be anything like the Nat C’s. Probably twenty years ago I might have hated, for example, Rebeca Andrade as Simone’s biggest competition–but this time around I simply enjoyed her skills and abilities and applauded for her just as I did for our gymnasts. I think I have finally unpacked and emptied the last of my conditioning as an American.2
I had a lovely relaxing day yesterday. Paul and I watched Challengers, which was interesting, and then caught up on House of the Dragon, The Serpent Queen, and started watching the second season of the show with Rob Lowe and his son on Netflix, which is cute and funny. I can’t think of the name of the show, but the first season was pretty pleasant and fun, so I hope the second season isn’t a disappointment. Watching these shows about royals struggling over the throne and power put me to thinking, again, about actual history, and of course the Catherine de Medici story, which I’ve always enjoyed. The banker’s daughter who became queen of France and mother herself of three kings and two queens. The show jumped from actual history to nonsense toward the end of the first season, and this second season is diverging dramatically from what actually happened; Queen Elizabeth never visited the French court, nor did Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (who actually abdicated and died before Catherine’s husband, Henri II) and likewise, his son Philip II did actually marry Elisabeth de Valois, but it was at her wedding celebration that Henri was killed. And they are starting to set up her daughter Margot’s story, which is also endlessly interesting to me. I’m still reading Rival Queens, the story of the mother-daughter relationship during one of the most treacherous periods of French history. I was also thinking about how people always say George R. R. Martin based A Song of Fire and Ice on the Wars of the Roses; but there’s another series of French histories called The Accursed Kings by Maurice Druon, focusing on the years 1310-1337, about the end of the main branch of the Capetian dynasty and the rise of the Valois branch–and the Hundred Years’ War. This aspect of French history–the lead up to that epic war–isn’t as well known, and I tore through that series when I discovered it at the Emporia Library as a teenager. It’s a great series, a fascinating time in French history (there are many fascinating periods in French history), and you can probably see why I love French history (and France) so much.
I’ve also been thinking, not only about the book I’m writing now but the next Scotty, too. I’ve renamed it Hurricane Season Hustle (saying party instead of season seems like asking for it, frankly), and started coming up with ideas for the plot. I have also been thinking about my short stories in progress, and I think I’ve come up with any number of ways to fix the ones I want to get fixed. My goal is to finish the short story collection this month and get it out of the way while working on the new book. Football season will be here before you know it, which will start taking up my weekends, so I need to be starting to get back to the grind of everything. I did do some cleaning yesterday around the house, too, and plan to do some more this morning before I go make groceries at Rouse’s. I can’t decide if I want to make steak fajitas for dinner, or pepper steak.
I did read a short story yesterday, “The Amateur of Crime,” by Stephen Vincent Benet. It’s an old story, Benet is a famous writer not known for his crime stories, and it was interesting, if a bit…I don’t know, unrealistic? I have found that non-crime writers who write crime short stories for whatever reason always seem to go for the “huh?” solution to crimes. In this case, the amateur detective on the spot is helped by any number of coincidences that also happen to give him the knowledge to solve the crime (there was a Faulkner crime short story that’s solution had to do with cigarette smoke trapped beneath a radiator…again, not realistic), which seemed contrived to me. But it was an interesting story, and again, reading it gave me some ideas how to fix some of my own in-progress drafts, or the ones that are finished but need revision.
There’s always so much writing to do.
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for the day. I do need to make a grocery list before running over to Rouse’s today; nothing major, a little run to get stuff for lunch and to make dinner a few nights this week. But for now, I am going to get cleaned up and do some filing and so forth, so I bid you adieu for now, Constant Reader, and I hope you have a marvelous Sunday.
Hilariously, a while back when I did one of my Pride posts about how white women have always been the worst homophobes, a friend asked me why I didn’t mention the Chatelaine of Castle TERF, and I replied “she gets her own.’ But she is so evil and awful and horrible so regularly that before I can finish writing about her, she’ll do something even worse. Her behavior during these Olympics, along with the haters she’s embraced, was especially egregious and awful. ↩︎
I sometime want to write about this, and the American mythology I was raised to believe that wasn’t the truth but something taught to justify white supremacy. ↩︎
Queer and Loathing in America 