Tag: Joe Biden

Lonesome Loser

Thursday and I have the day off blog because I am having dinner at 5 with a friend and after that I am hosting Noir at the Bar: Morally Grey. Tomorrow is a work-at-home day around my doctor’s appointment, and I was thinking about going to the Crooked Lane party Friday night but…not so sure about that. I was terribly tired when I got home from work yesterday evening, and just collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky joined me post-haste, and I basically watched the USOpen with Paul all night before I fell asleep in my chair before nine (the match we’d been watching concluded, and I couldn’t even tell you who played? Naomi Osaka?) but I slept deeply and well last night. I got up at my usual time to feed Sparky and went back to bed and slept for another two hours…but Sparky came up and cuddled with me when he was finished eating AND he was purring. Coincidence I feel refreshed and rested this morning?

I think not.

Today I want to get some things taken care of around the house before I head to the Quarter to have dinner, including some writing and reading, and I also have to get prepared for tonight as well. I have to work tomorrow so I am not going to be doing anything after the reading besides coming home and going to bed. Pretty nice, if I do say so myself. I actually feel good this morning, which is a lovely feeling. (Never underestimate how well the soothing relaxation from the purr of a cuddling cat works.) I also have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning after my department and team meetings. The Crooked Lane party is tomorrow night, and I may head down for that; never hurts to stay in the good graces of a publisher, am I right?

Yesterday, our shitstain of a governor applauded the mention of the military being sent to New Orleans (and other Louisiana cities) to clean up the “crime” problem by the demented president. That presence here won’t affect our already struggling tourist economy at ALL, will it? And how will such a thing fly in Moses Mike Johnson’s district of Shreveport/Bossier City? Yeah, no government overreach here at all. Imagine had Biden sent the military in to Dallas or Kansas City or Nashville to help with crime? I will say this–a city known for its hospitality and welcoming attitude will make those soldiers sorry they were ever deployed. Don’t fuck with New Orleans. And seriously, fuck our failure of a governor, who is doing nothing about the wetlands (other than making everything worse), and he also ran on cleaning up crime…so he’s admitting, straight up, he’s an utter failure and so is his administration. We already knew that, of course; our state government makes Florida’s look like California’s.

If the federal government really wanted to clean up crime in Louisiana, they’d start at the Governor’s Mansion in Baton Rouge before making their way to the capitol. Louisiana has more oil than Kuwait, but we’re in the bottom five of everything. This is your Republican governance example as to why you should never vote for one of them; DeSantis is another great example of shit stain governance. You’d have thought we learned our lesson from Bobby Jindal’s corrupt incompetence, and how a Democratic governor basically cleaned up that mess…all so Landry could drive Louisiana into the sewer with little chance of getting out.

I know I’ll do my best to make the troops uncomfortable here. Landry also announced that ICE prisoners will have their own special section in the inhumane hell of Angola. (Reminder that immigrants have always rebuilt Louisiana after disastrous hurricanes. New Orleans would have been in ruins for years without them.)

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, and I hope to see you tonight at the Crescent City Brewhouse for Noir at the Bar: Morally Grey.

Ramses II statues with drifting sand at the Abu Simbel temple

Shoo Be Doo

Thursday morning, and I am awake with my mind alert for a change–but my body is still fatigued. Hopefully getting to sleep a little later tomorrow will make a difference in the degree of fatigue I’ve been experiencing this week. This is actually the worst it’s been after an infusion, so hallelujah that this was the last one! I’ve not been able to get much of anything done around here after work–I fell asleep just after eight again in my chair, only to go up to bed around nine thirty. I did sleep well, but probably needed to stay in bed a few more hours, methinks.

We were also busy in the clinic yesterday, which didn’t help the fatigue, but I made it through the day unscathed. I did get a lot done there, too. I think we’re busy again today, but the morning is pretty slow and easy, so I can get caught up on my paperwork. I think tonight after work I’ll come straight home. I skipped the grocery store last night, but picked up the mail and my prescriptions, so that was a plus. I’ll probably have some groceries delivered over the weekend, as I am out of some things. I also don’t think I am imagining how much prices have gone up lately. Wasn’t that yet another broken campaign promise? I mean, I thought inflation was all Biden’s fault, wasn’t it? Here’s hoping we’ll have a robust mid-term election next year…although I suspect we’re never going to have another one. I would be delighted to be proven wrong, for the record, but nothing the Fascists do anymore surprises me. What surprises me is when they do something decent without an ulterior motive…and I am still waiting to be surprised.

Despite the mental fatigue I was experiencing when I got home last night, I did manage to park myself in my chair and catch on the news. Christ on the cross, what the fuck is wrong with this country (rhetorical)? I heartily enjoyed reports on Gavin Newsom’s tweets yesterday, and the utter insanity of Laura Loomer’s deposition in her defamation suit against Bill Maher. Future generations will (hopefully) look back at this time and ask, in all seriousness, what the fuck was wrong with everyone? Which leads me around to an essay I am writing about Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, and how that history has always been distorted to blacken Anne’s reputation as well as who she was; imagine if the only reports for future historians about you were your absolute worst enemies…even those who admired her were too afraid to say anything positive about her after her fall. I also saw somewhere on-line recently a comparison between Henry VIII and our own unspeakably vile president.

This is why studying history is, in my opinion, so vitally important–but it’s equally important to keep an open mind as well. Context also matters.

I probably should have been a historian. The problem, though, was all of it interests me; I don’t know that I would have been able to decide on a particular period to focus on. The smart thing for me to have done would have been to double major in history and creative writing, with a minor in either French or German. Although I probably would have focused on the sixteenth century, which has always fascinated me…French would have been the wiser course because it was the diplomatic language of that period, so a lot of the source material would have been in French.

Is it just me, or has there been a lot of flooding all over the country this year? I haven’t paid as much attention to it all as perhaps I should have, but at least I’ve made note of it. The Guadalupe River floods in Texas were kind of hard to escape, as everyone seemed to be covering that story. But it seems like every day, or at least every other day, whenever I log into my browser I see pictures of devastating flooding somewhere in the US. Flooding is so awful and it’s never fun to lose your car and/or your home and most of your belongings.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning.

The Temple of Abu Simbel, statues of Ramses II

I Was Made For Dancin’

Tuesday morning and am easing back into the week somehow. I was a bit tired yesterday, and felt a little low energy, like the prelude to an onset of something. By the time I got home from work I truly felt lousy, so relaxed for a while, took some Dayquil, and let my mind wander while watching the news, this week’s John Oliver episode, and decided to peek in on the most recent episode of The White Lotus, to see what everyone was talking about on social media all day yesterday. Okay, got it. We’ll probably watch the entire season once it’s all available; it definitely piqued my interest and I will have forgotten all or most of this by the time we watch anyway–one of the benefits of this truly shitty memory thing I have going on anymore. I did work on the book a bit, and knew what to do, but was just too fatigued to do it. I hate when that happens. But this morning I feel better than I did yesterday morning, so here’s to a productive day. I really hate feeling under the weather. Tired is an entirely different thing I don’t mind so much, but being sick can fuck all the way off.

The world, and country, continue to burn to the ground as the MAGA government by billionaire further establishes and consolidates power to the executive branch. (Thanks again, Sycophant Schumer. Your interview in the New York Times only served to further underscore how out of touch with your constituents and your base you are. You’re as big a disgrace as Roger P. Taney and James Buchanan. You fucking own this, you and the other nine who knifed the base in the back. Oh, and thanks again for shivving Biden last summer, you fucking piece of shit, and handing the White House back to the Right. Remember, we sent the Rosenbergs to the chair. We are where we are because of Democratic cowardice. I will never forget.) It’s hard not to get worried, stressed or be anxious. My job is federally funded, after all, and they are coming for queers and queer books, too. Woo-hoo, nothing like having both of your careers hanging over the precipice, is there? My Social Security and Medicare apparently are also on the line, so after a lifetime of working hard and paying into both systems, I’ll never be able to retire…voluntarily, at any rate.

Thank God I have anxiety medications. Thanks again, Senator Schumer and the Asinine Nine.

Heavy heaving sigh.

I am pleased with how the book is coming along, even if I was too brain-dead last night to do much more work on it. It’s going to be pretty good, I think, nice and spooky and Gothic and creepy. Years ago I read a John D. MacDonald novel called Murder in the Wind, which takes place during a hurricane, when a bunch of motorists take shelter in an abandoned house–all strangers, but one car contained a psychopathic criminal–and that’s kind of the tone I want to merge with the usual Scotty tone to pull the whole story off. I know MacDonald was a sexist writer whose work was very much of its time and some of it hasn’t aged well, but the man could write and tell a story and create some memorable characters, plots and situations; I’m sure a revisit of his canon would also turn up some racism and homophobia, too. I do think, were he to be alive and writing now, he’d be more woke than conservative; almost all of his later Florida novels had to do with environmentalism and how greed and corruption were destroying the state (Condominium, anyone?), and I have often longed for someone to write those kind of Louisiana books…I also think Carl Hiassen style novels about Louisiana would also be kind of awesome. Don’t look at me, I’m not a strong enough plotter to write anything like Haissen, just as I am not familiar enough with the environmental disasters conservative greed and corruption create to write about them…and doing the research would probably make me anxious again. I know I’ve always wanted to write about cancer alley and the poor Black communities poisoned by it, but how do you tell that story when there’s no justice in the end for anyone? Not to mention the disappearing wetlands. Who knows how long Louisiana can still call itself “sportsmen’s paradise” once everything is ruined down here?

Louisiana, and New Orleans, never cease to be sources of inspiration, you know?

And who knows? Stranger things have happened.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. One never can be entirely sure.

The bare curve of a male ass–do we think it will trigger Meta’s puritans?

Double Vision

Well, 2024 was a shit show of a year, wasn’t it? Then again, haven’t they all been pretty bad since 2015 and the golden escalator? It was, however, also a year with a lot of clarity for one Gregalicious; when I woke up to certain realities about life in general and started centering my own self in my life. So, for personal growth I’d say it was a good year; as for everything else in the world, maybe not so much. I didn’t publish anything in 2024; one of the few years since I started writing professionally where I actually had nothing–not even a short story–on my publications list. I did no volunteer work anywhere for anyone, and I just focused on my own recovery, my own self-discovery, and my own investigation into who I am and why I am who I am. It was a year in which I continued looking back, something that began in 2023 when Mom died, and came to a lot of realizations about myself and my history–and made peace with a lot of things that used to make me angry to remember and think about. I can reflect on some of those things now and not get angry. This was also my first full year on my anti-anxiety medication and the loss of anxiety from my life (and everything that branched out from the anxiety) has made such an amazing difference. It’s nice not having my anxiety controlling everything I do, and it’s also very interesting to see how many automatic coping mechanisms I had put into place to manage the anxiety, or at least keep it sort of controlled–especially when it comes to driving.

This was the year I turned against the legacy media, and frankly, I’ve not missed it in the least. I was worried about the election, not going to lie about that, but I also thought it was incredibly shitty they all decided to go with the “Biden is too old” narrative Trump and Fox were pushing on everyone, reporting it breathlessly like it was actually news while completely ignoring the fact that his opponent was a sun-downing narcissistic piece of shit. There have been two different sets of reporting on politics since the 1990s: the lies and demagoguery of Fox News, followed by the legacy media’s reporting on the lies Fox told like they were absolute facts. The positive glee with which the New York Times, Washington Post, CNN, and MSNBC reported, rubbing their hands with excitement as they basically committed election interference for the Right yet again, shivving President Biden in the process; has anyone done a wellness check on that shit stain George Clooney yet? He’s managed to keep a low profile since he did Trump’s bidding for him. I do not miss legacy media, and hope they all circle the drain and fail. Maybe then, and only then, will we get the kind of media we deserve in this country and not the failing legacy media. The way they are slanting the Luigi Mangione story is also out-of-touch and offensive; why hasn’t the New York Times sent a reporter to a rust belt diner to see how those MAGA voters feel about Mangione? Oh, no, we don’t care about those viewpoints anymore. No, the legacy media thought they’d help MAGA return to power and then lead the resistance, like they thought they did in the first term. Newsflash: you didn’t.

Has there ever been a pundit class that believed the smoke they blew up their own asses like our current batch? Well, I am not watching them anymore. I follow some pundits on Youtube that I enjoy, but to be honest…I don’t feel like I’m missing anything, to tell you the truth, Constant Reader. I’ve always loved and cared about my country, even as I looked at it very clearly as more and more myths fell the older I got, but I also don’t feel like I need to follow the news everyday or participate in all of the partisan, pro-corporate, pro-rich let’s turn politics into a reality show bullshit. We deserve better.

As someone who witnessed Watergate and everything that followed, I bought into the mythology of journalistic integrity and the importance of truth; wasn’t that why his creators made Superman’s secret identity a journalist? I had planned on being a journalist myself when I went to college, and my intro class was all about integrity and honesty, which I also took as gospel for years, like a fool. Why did I ever think modern journalism had left the days of yellow journalism, of Hearst and Pulitzer, behind? My naive outlook, no doubt, and belief in American mythology. Journalistic integrity–which was beaten into our heads by every sitcom that decided to have one of the characters become a reporter for the school paper–was always for sale and never could be depended upon. So I happily bid adieu to thumb-on-the-scales journalism, and Constant Reader, I am never going back.

As for other things from 2024, let’s see. I fought with my health insurance company over a medication I need for seven months, thank you for that, bottom-feeding scum-sucking health insurance companies. This affected the rest of my care, and forced me to go even further into debt in the new year for medical treatments and so forth, and I am not entirely sure when exactly I will be able to recover from this financial distress. Yay for health insurance, and the entire health care industry. But at least it was straightened out, and the medication was approved through 2030. I also got some people at the insurance company in trouble. Too bad, so sad. Womp fucking womp, trash.

There was a lot of stress for me this past year, which was made even more interesting by the change in medications. My brain didn’t experience either stress or anxiety or even depression this year; my moods stayed fairly level all through the mess, but it definitely weighed on me subconsciously, just like delaying dealing with the holidays for a year didn’t really work the way I wanted other than pushing it back a year. Well done, dumb-shit. Ah, well.

What a strange, strange year it’s been.

And on that note, we’ll be hurtling into the abyss of 2025 at midnight. So, until tomorrow morning, I’m heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely lovely eve of the New Year, Constant Reader.

I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am

Yeah, I’ve been big on the Tudors for most of my life–first the Virgin Queen, and then her father, Henry VIII and his many wives1, and eventually the entire family (Henry VIII’s sister Margaret was a pistol–and it is her descendants who sit on the throne today, not Henry’s). As I got older, I became more interested in the century as a whole, and eventually I moved on from the Tudors to the Stuarts, who I find much more interesting. I still love the Tudors, and will watch documentaries and films, but won’t read any more books about them, especially because I’ve not really scratched more than the surface with the Stuarts, and I want to read more about the Tudors’ French contemporaries, the House of Valois. (Yes, I loved The Tudors, because it was more of a Renaissance version of Dynasty; I don’t watch historical films and expect accuracy2, and if you are, wake the fuck up. Book adaptations are never the same as the book, either. It’s entertainment, not a fucking documentary.)

Speaking of entertainment, I finally gave up on Jon Stewart with his defense of the indefensible. His joining in on the media’s decision to badger and hound Joe Biden–one of the most successful presidents of all fucking time–out of the race? None of that, not one bit of that, was actual concern; they all were giving (and continued, until recently) Shady Marmalade a pass on his obvious mental decline…and Jon’s decision to defend the indefensible “because comedian”? Fuck off and die, you arrogant rich white cisgender piece of shit. I’ll never watch him again, so congrats on that year contract extension, Comedy Central. You thought calling Puerto Rico a floating pile of garbage was funny? You thought comparing Travis Kelce to OJ, implying he’ll murder Taylor Swift, was funny? And on and on and on. Straight white male comedians will always circle the wagons for another comedian with a penis, but when a woman comedian (see: Kathy Griffin) is being attacked, not a fucking word? So he’s a misogynist, too. I’m not telling you what to do, Constant Reader, but Jon Stewart is dead to me, now and forever. And don’t even get me started on the 49ers and Nick the Traitor Bosa. Talk about pussy. Someone got slapped down by management when he hit the locker room and before he talked to the press, and like a good little beta soyboy, he caved and sulked like the pathetic emotionally-and-intellectually stunted bitch he is. He’s not being punished because when asked he shut his fucking mouth, which is the other primary difference between him and a true hero, Colin Kaepernick (besides the obvious “white man gets away with shit a Black man never could” racism).

And really, 49ers managers and coaching staff? Your team represents San Francisco, the most tolerant city in the country. Trade him to Dallas, where he belongs.

Thank God I am on anxiety medications. If not, I probably wouldn’t have slept at all since June. But the medications and my personal ban on legacy media companies who are garbage and untrustworthy has helped a lot with my election anxiety, and refusing to engage with the trash on-line (block, block, block) I’ve managed to take good care of my own mental health this time around. I refuse to worry about what will happen if he wins, or if he loses and they try another violent coup; I do, every once in a while, think you always wondered what it was like to be a Berliner in 1933…and I didn’t really need to get an answer to that question, you know?

I feel good this morning yet again; I’ve been sleeping well every night this week and it’s been really nice. I did my errands last night, got home and got started on the dishes and did some other clean-up around here. Paul didn’t get home until late, so I mostly went down Youtube idle curiosity research holes. I also managed to get the Scotty Bible’s first draft finished; it’s just raw information for now that I have to reorganize and pull together. I am also realizing, as I mentioned yesterday, that I should do a concordance of everything I’ve written by place; Kansas, California, New Orleans, Louisiana, Florida, and Alabama. That’s the problem of having characters cross over from stand-alones to the series and back again, you know? I was realizing that the lawyer the boys hire in Royal Street Reveillon doesn’t have as much information in the Scotty series about him as I would have thought…only to remember that Loren McKeithen has a much larger role in the Chanse series than the Scotty. Oops!

I also realized last night, as I watched news clips and documentaries about the Civil War, that with my anxiety gone I no longer feel the need to belittle and dismiss things I’ve accomplished in this wild and crazy career of mine. I’ve written a shit ton of books, short stories, and blog posts–and when I think about all the queer papers and magazines that I’ve written for over the years, yes, my output has been a bit prodigious. It wasn’t false humility (though I am often horrified at how easy it is to slip into egomania, and always over-correct once I catch myself); I honestly still thought I wasn’t very good at what I do. I always compare myself to other writers and come up wanting; but it’s really not a competition of any kind; I appreciate great writers who produce great work, and my work is different from theirs. I always strive to be better, to get better, and not stagnate–the problem that creates is it extrapolates to I could have done that better and dismissing it. Those are the kind of brain landmines I need to watch for, and avoid whenever possible. I’m proud of all my work, for the record. Sure, going through the old Scotty books was always difficult (I always edit it another time as I’m reading it) but doing it for the Bible, where I’m just looking for information, was different. Sure, there were some clunky things I could have said better, but overall, I was actually a little surprised to see how good–and clever–the books actually are. It also reminded me of how I used to write the first ones, what I have always tried to do in my work–whether anyone notices or not. (Someone once emailed me after reading one of my books and said, “Did you deliberately do this?” and delighted, I wrote back “Absolutely!” That was a big thrill for me.)

And I am proud of my work. I overcame so many obstacles to build this career, and I am pleased with myself, too. My books are pretty good–yes, there will always be a few where I think, God I wish I could give that one more pass, but even those are pretty good. There are some I am more pleased with than others; yes, I have favorite children. But that doesn’t mean that I am not pleased with all of them. How many people told me along the way that this would never happen for me, that I didn’t have what it takes, or that I have no ability at all? Maybe, maybe not–but if that’s what you think, how many books have you published? How many awards have you been nominated for, or won?

I really wish I’d known it was anxiety much sooner.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again, perhaps later!

  1. I love that historians count all of the women he married as his wives; although technically the first two were actually annulled, so the marriages were never, at least legally, valid. ↩︎
  2. I totally understand why films and television shows based on history have to make changes; the actual stories don’t play out perfectly for different media and thus must be adapted. I do ↩︎