Tag: Jonathan Bailey

Wagon Wheel

Looks like Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around again, woo-hoo! Apparently another cold front is swooping down on us from the frozen north; temperatures dipping down into the forties (!!!!) this weekend. The meteorologists are also saying we’re done with temperatures in the 80s until spring–but I am not holding my breath on that one. New Orleans weather always has a habit of making forecasters look foolish because, well, it’s New Orleans weather. It snowed earlier this year, for example.1 But I am actually enjoying this respite from the heat and humidity, and I am sleeping like a stone every night since the weather changed, which is delightful. Even the time change wasn’t as disruptive as it usually is–although last night I fell asleep in my chair around eight-ish, which used to be nine-ish. But I don’t mind. I didn’t get much done when I got home from work yesterday, because I was feeling tired, and Sparky was feeling needy. I did run some errands on the way home, getting the mail and picking up prescriptions (two more will be ready for pick-up today, I think), but once I was home, I didn’t really do a lot of anything. I was on edge a bit about yesterday’s elections, but checked the news before going to bed and saw that the Reich Wing was getting trounced everywhere–so much for MAGA’s popularity–and was even more delighted to see this morning that those results held. Three seats in Mississippi’s state house flipped Democratic, too–in Mississippi. MISSISSIPPI. Think about that for a moment…and what it implies about the midterms. I’m feeling hopeful, at least for this morning at any rate.

Darth Cheney died, and there was a massive blue wave. Who could ask for anything more? If voters are this angry with MAGA now, imagine how the midterms could go. What a lovely way for November to start, am I right?

Today is going to be a busy one at work. Our nurse is out, and it’s just me in the clinic today. Undoubtedly I will be exhausted when I get home tonight, but I also decided last night to go back and finish reading The Hunting Wives (which was interrupted by Halloween Horror Month), since I was only a chapter into the Scott Carson. I will be rejiggering my reading schedule and what is up next over the next few days. I do need to get caught up a bit on my Donna Andrews, so I can listen to one of her Christmas mysteries on the way up to Kentucky later this month for Thanksgiving. I am not dreading that drive as much as I usually do, and I suppose this is the first major test of the recovery, isn’t it? Twelve hours in a car? But the key is to take my time and not get stressed about anything, and I may even try going a different way–through Nashville and up the Cumberland Parkway. Anything to avoid Chatta-fucking-nooga. I’ll drive home the old way, most likely, but it’s not a bad thing to shake things up a little bit, is it?

I did watch some more Appalachian lore videos last night, which are always fun and inspiring. I started thinking about the next Scotty last night–trying to land on a title and a time of the year, leaning towards Halloween Party Hijinks–which is also kind of fun. I have no idea what the plot of that would be, but I always have to have the title and the time of the year first. Does it make any sense? Not in the least, but I am extremely different from every other writer out there; not better nor worse, just different when it comes to writing and the writing process. I want to work some more on my novella tonight, too. So far, tomorrow looks like a very easy day in the clinic, despite again not having a nurse and working the schedule entirely on my own, which will wear me out for sure.

Oh, and People named Jonathan Bailey as the first openly gay Sexiest Man Alive. Yesterday was a very good day, wasn’t it? To be fair, he definitely is one of the sexiest men alive, and it’s not something that I ever pay that much attention to–the last one I remember was the joke selection of Blake Shelton (bitch, please) and that was nearly ten years ago–but this is landmark, and also a bitch-slap to the mouth-breathing haters. I’m actually surprised President Stillson hasn’t whined about never being picked for this…

And on that note, I should pay some bills before I head into the office.

Have a lovely mid-week Wednesday, and I will be back tomorrow morning for sure, for sure.

  1. The snow days, and the novelty of snow, was fun…but not something I want to experience all the time. ↩︎

Let the Mystery Be

Ah, it’s Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It’s currently 54 degrees in the Crescent City (it was supposed to dip down into the 40s for the low; maybe it happened while I was sleeping), and it’s light outside. I also get to give myself my shot this morning by myself, but I’m not terribly concerned about that–no anxiety here!–because there are instructional videos on Youtube, for a worst case scenario. I can also tell it’s about time for it, as I’ve had some very small stomach issues (nothing major or disruptive) over the course of the weekend. The Saints apparently got pummeled again yesterday, too–I imagine there aren’t many people around who remember how hapless they used to be, so this recent turn of ineptitude is probably a big shock.

At least we managed to win a Super Bowl during that run, you know?

We watched Jurassic World: Rebirth1, primarily for Jonathan Bailey and dinosaurs, and Bailey didn’t disappoint, and some of the dinosaurs were really cool…but the plot was stupid and the movie was really poorly written, clearly relying on the dinosaurs (and Jonathan Bailey) to make the viewer forget how abysmal the film actually is. When it ended, Paul said, “I am so glad we didn’t pay to see that in the theater” and I couldn’t do anything other than agree. I mean, it’s usually not a good sign when you’re rooting for the dinosaurs, right? (Except for Jonathan Bailey…hmm, sensing a theme in this paragraph) Scarlett Johansson was pretty kick-ass as the leader of the “extraction” theme–they are being sent into the dinosaur area to retrieve blood for medical research from the biggest dinosaurs (land, sea, air) which also doesn’t make sense…since the way it was explained only said they needed it from a large dinosaur, so why not just get it all from the first big one you encounter? Because, silly viewer, there would be no movie after the sea dinosaur! Contrived, contrived, contrived…and none of this shit made the least bit of sense. I know, I know–but DINOSAURS!

Yeah, sorry, I still need a plot and story that make sense and don’t have holes big enough to drive an aircraft carrier through in my monster movies. And really, that’s all these movies are–monster movies with cash grab sequels. I think I’ve only seen two before this one: the original and one of the sequels with Chris Pratt, who I didn’t know yet was a garbage piece of shit person. He is the worst Chris. I doubt I’ll watch another of these movies, and I certainly would never pay to watch one, for sure.

Yesterday was a nice, relaxing day. It was a good weekend overall, really. We got Paul’s new phone set up, we drove out to the mall so he could get some new clothes for a gala event he has to go to this week, and then we went all the way to Kenner to get him some new over-the-ear headphones, because the best Christmas gift ever (the original ones I got him almost nine years ago) wouldn’t sync with the new phone (much like how my hearing aids don’t with my new phone), and we got him some nice new ones, that synced up immediately. We watched the movie at night and I mostly just did chores and some research yesterday on Youtube–primarily watching videos about Southern/Appalachian lores and legends to research for potential stories of my own (one synced up nicely for an unfinished young adult novel I want to get done in 2026), which is quite marvelous, really. I still haven’t made the to-do list that’s absolutely necessary for me to stay on track this week, which I need to do today. The good news is I feel alert, rested and mentally alert, which is always a good thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader–remember, Christmas looms on the horizon–and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, I promise.

  1. I actually read the Michael Crichton original novel before it was filmed. ↩︎

Windows

It’s the eve of July 4th, and all through the house–not a creature is stirring (besides me and Sparky), not even a mouse! (Thank God. The lack of mice means Sparky is earning his keep. I’ve not even seen a flying roach in the house this year.)

Sigh.

I woke up feeling sinus-y this morning, with a bit of a sore throat and a runny nose. I took a Claritin a little while ago, which hopefully will clear this all up. One can hope, at any rate. I was tired last night when I got home, so was kind of useless for the evening. We finished watching Olympo, which picked up the pace significantly in its final episodes, and I’m not sure there’s going to be another season, although they did leave most everything hanging in the meantime, and there was a cliffhanger. I am also feeling a bit worn down this morning as I sip my coffee and Sparky climbs all over me and my desk. It’s going to rain this afternoon (and most of the day tomorrow, it looks like), and I have some errands to run after I get off work–so I don’t have to run any this weekend. We’re thinking about going to see Jurassic World Rebirth tomorrow (Jonathan Bailey and his slutty glasses are a big draw); and I must confess I’ve never seen anything Jurassic on the big screen. (We are also going to see Superman next weekend.)

I am hoping to get some rest this holiday weekend. I think my lethargy this week was a kind of hangover from the trip last weekend, despite having Sunday as a recovery day. I keep forgetting that I am older than I was and my body has already been through a massive trauma this year already that I am still recovering from as well. It was probably too close to the illness for me to do all that driving and exertion; but I’ve also never been that ill before so am not sure how long the recovery will take–or if this is the new normal. That’s the lovely thing about getting old without a user manual; you always wonder if something is a result of getting older and this is how it’s going to be for the rest of your life. I am hoping, at any rate, to do some writing tonight and over the weekend, finish reading the three books I am currently in process of enjoying, and pick out three new ones. I got the new Megan Abbott, El Dorado Drive, this week and it may hop to the top of the pile. My reading goal for the year is to reread a bunch of Gothics, read/reread some young adult novels, and get through the books in the stack on the end table in the living room before moving on to the top shelf of the left bookcase (who am I kidding, once I clear off the end table I’ll make a new stack on the end table). I also have a lot of other books from the past year or so that I’d like to get caught up on, but I don’t seem to read as fast as I used to, and I am not going on another road trip until October when I can listen to another book.

I hate not having the energy that I used to have.

And I have another infusion a week from Monday. Hopefully I am getting used to them, and the second won’t make me as tired and lethargic as the first one did. We shall see. I still need to go get lab work done before my next appointment with my primary care physician in August, and I need to figure out which of these bills I need to pay and which ones I don’t–I hit my deductible but am getting bills still, which is kind of confusing? One of the things on my to-do list is to get this all figured out. I just don’t want to pay anything I don’t have to, you know? It’s so fucking exhausting, you know? Heavy heaving sigh. But at least work today is going to be fairly easy; we have a light schedule so I can get a lot of my Admin work done and get things caught up for the end of the fiscal year. I do have to run some errands on the way home tonight–mail and a relatively minor grocery run–but after that, I am hoping to get the chores done and the house in some better semblance of order.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely July 4th Eve, and I will most likely be back in the morning.

Nuno Gallego, formerly of Elite and now starring in OLYMPO

Dance with Me (One Last Time)

Paul will be home tonight, hopefully before I go to bed, and it’s about time. Much as I love Sparky and have appreciated the attention, I’d prefer having Paul at home. I just realized last night that this weekend is Championship Saturday for college football and I. Don’t. Care. This play-off thing is definitely odd; when it was limited to four teams and everyone else went to bowls, the bowls absolutely lost something. I didn’t find myself watching as many as I used to, and sometimes didn’t even watch the four team play-off. I’d usually watch the title game, but if LSU wasn’t in it I ‘d usually go to bed before it was over and not know who won until the following morning; that year Georgia finally pulled off the come-from behind to beat Alabama in the title game was one of those years where I thought, damn should have watched that to the end but…watching highlights was also fine. If LSU goes to a bowl, I’ll watch that for sure, but anything else? Kind of doubtful. Too many games and too much to keep track of, thank you very much. Maybe it’ll be exciting and I’ll get caught up in it.

Or maybe not. We’ll see.

I slept well again last night, but was a bit on the tired side when I got home. I worked for a little while before my brain started going a bit on the haywire side, so I called it an evening and repaired to my chair with Sparky and The Demon of Unrest. It’s so weird; it’s like my brain can only handle one creative task at a time. Now it’s in reading mode, so it seems like all it can really do is handle that, rather than editing or writing. It’s interesting to read about a time in our collective history where everything hung in the balance and no one knew what was going to happen next, or what the next day would bring as the tensions over Fort Sumter began rising. That’s the thing about history. I have a basic overview of a lot of history, particularly US or European, but there’s still a lot of things I don’t know the entire story of, like Fort Sumter. I knew the shelling of Fort Sumter was the start of the Civil War, but the histories I’ve usually read simply used that as the starting point of the war: Lincoln was elected, the slave states had a problem with that, and the secession crisis began1. It’s also wild to imagine that so much time passed between the election, the certification of the Electoral College vote, and the inauguration. It is so eerily reminiscent of the 2020 election insanity, and oh-so-much stupidity I’ve seen in this country for I don’t know how fucking long, so I’ll just say “since Fox News became the press agency for the far-right.” I think that, plus how good of a writer Erik Larson is, makes this book kind of unputdownable for me.

But Paul will be home tonight and all will be right in (my) world again. This apartment, which always seems so small to me most of the time, always seems so enormous and empty while he’s gone. Sigh. I think I’ll order a pizza for us tonight for dinner. He won’t get home until later in the evening, but if he’s hungry it’ll be there for him and if he’s not, well, there’s tomorrow’s lunch. It just makes the most sense to me. My weight has also seemed to stabilize at the usual 203 (I dropped down to 197 while in Kentucky but it’s gone back to the usual since then), which is fine. If I ever start making it back to the gym, then I’ll be checking my weight more often. I was going to start back up while Paul was gone, but I just kind of slid into that lethargic lonely state that kind of just took over last week. My creativity has seemed to find an outlet in writing those essays for ye olde Substack lately, which I’ve kind of run with, but I need to take control of my creativity again and harness it, whip it into working shape, and shift into a higher gear. (How many metaphors did I mix in that last sentence?) I’m also thinking that it’s probably not a bad idea to move all the drafts for longer entries here over there, since that’s where they’ll wind up if I ever finish writing them. That will also helped that nagging annoyance about all the unfinished drafts I have in my folder here. I mean, I still haven’t written about Agatha All Along, which I absolutely loved. I also want to write about Joe Locke, whose success I am enjoying, and adorable Jonathan Bailey, who is everywhere right now because of Wicked. It’s so nice seeing how many working, openly queer actors there are in show business right now. This is a really good thing; and progress I hope we can maintain in the face of this most recent, horrible election. (But at least the popular vote margin keeps narrowing–not that it will matter to any Republican. They are claiming a sweeping mandate, which they also did in 2004, and look how that turned out–so badly the country elected a biracial man to two consecutive terms.)

And no, I am saving my sympathies for the people who didn’t vote for this upcoming administration. You voted for him, shut the fuck up and deal with the consequences, I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you ever again. I know no one likes to remember any further back than last week, but the first term of the felon was such an enormous success…(sarcasm) I can see why he was reelected–to the everlasting disgrace of this country.

And yes, I will continue to maintain that straight white people are the worst thing that ever happened to this continent–and they keep doubling down on their sheer awfulness.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again either tomorrow or later today; one can never be too sure about anything, can they?

  1. One of my favorite things since 2016 is seeing people making the ahistorical claim that “the country has never been divided like it is now,” to which I always reply, “several hundred thousand American dead in the Civil War would like a word.” ↩︎

The Tijuana Jail

Ah, Tijuana. I went there several times when I lived in California, and it was always…well, a sloppy messy good time. It’s also where I got my soft wool blankets, the most comfortable bed linens I’ve ever owned. The first one finally fell apart about six years ago, and the second one is starting to fray and unravel. The first was purchased in 1987 and lasted over thirty years; the second was bought in 1997 and is going on twenty-seven. I’ve looked for something similar on-line but so far it’s been to no avail. Sigh. I dread the day when the newer one finally starts to completely unravel.

But I never spent any time in the Tijuana jail, thank the Lord. That’s probably one of my biggest anxieties about foreign travel–winding up in jail through some unintentional mistake. Probably PTSD from watching Midnight Express in the theater at twenty and going in blind with no clue as to what it was about other than I thought the lead actor was kind of attractive. There were a lot of those “out of their element Americans in danger somewhere” movies in the 1970s, when I think back, like how disaster movies also proliferated in that decade.

Last night we had some major weather–bad thunderstorms with eighty mile-per-hour winds. It was in the middle of the downpour and thunder that I went to bed, and as always when it’s storming, I went into a very deep and restful sleep almost immediately. I do feel very good this morning, which is very nice. I feel very rested this morning, too, and am looking forward to getting to work today. I also have errands to run later on today, hopefully around the storms forecast for today. It’s supposed to be worse in the evening that the first blast this afternoon, so we shall see. It’s also nice to wake up on Friday morning and have most of the chores finished already. I don’t have to clean the kitchen, for example, or do any dishes or catch up on laundry or anything like that, which is great. I’d like to do some writing later, definitely some filing, and some reading, too. I’d love to finish the Scott Carson and move on to my next read this weekend…which of course would mean having to pick one out of the pile and there’s too many good choices, frankly–a delightful problem to have. Something newly released, or something that’s been waiting to be chosen for some time now?

We also started watching the new season of Bridgerton last night, and it’s really quite a nice show. Nothing terribly serious, some terrific acting and chemistry, light and frothy entertainment done with incredible style and costuming and set design; it’s absolutely lovely to look at, and appealing enough it its tales of love and romance in the British upper class during the Regency. (It’s interesting that the only royal we ever see is Queen Charlotte, but the Prince Regent was a disgusting pig of a man and that wouldn’t work in this tale of pretty rich people at the top of the food chain.) Jonathan Bailey is such a convincing straight man, too–so much for the ‘gays can only play gays’ tropes–and I do hope he has a lovely career befitting his talents.

I was also delighted to wake up to the news that the City Council booted the Klan of Nyx (the racist homophobic suburban hags who’ve been polluting the parade route and giving, for one example, Confederate flag beads to Black children; the people cancelled Nyx several years ago for their horrific behavior and “All Lives Matter” bullshit in a majority Black city?) from parading the final two weeks of Mardi Gras–and the likelihood of getting permission to ride before the last two weeks is highly unlikely. I am going to do another Mardi Gras book, and it’s going to be “ripped” from these headlines.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely and safe Friday, Constant Reader, wherever you may be. And you never know; I may be back later.

Reindeer Boogie

Up ungodly early on a Saturday because I have to cross the river to the West Bank to get my oil changed. One of the most interesting things about this surgery recovery is it seems to have wiped my memory banks or something–kind of like an Apple OS update. Yesterday on my way to PT I checked the car’s systems and was stunned to see that I was due for an oil change. It seemed like I’d just had it done, but now that I think about it, it may have been as far back as June, when I went to Alabama and Kentucky and back. I’ve done a lot of driving since then, including a weekend drive over to Panama City Beach in October, and so it’s not really surprising that it’s due again–and thank God I checked, right?

But I continue to sleep well, and I am really looking forward to sleeping late tomorrow and just lazing around until I feel like getting up. Monday morning I have PT early, and then have to head into the office for my paperwork day. It’ll be a great and interesting week of trying to get everything caught up so I can take my four day Christmas break with a clear conscience–at least as far as work is concerned. My PT visits continue to go well, and I like both therapists I’ve worked with so far. (If you’re local to New Orleans and need physical therapy, I highly recommend Physiofit in Uptown on Magazine Street.) I am hoping I won’t need the brace after I see my surgeon again next Friday, and what a lovely Christmas gift that would be, wouldn’t it? It’s just cumbersome and awkward now, and the greater dexterity I get with my hand the more annoying it is to have to type around having it on. I also have noticed how easily I tire now, too–but I also know my body had a major trauma that it hasn’t completely recovered from just yet, and three weeks of being sedentary wasn’t a huge help; I have to build my stamina back up.

We watched the final episode of Fellow Travelers last night and while it was terribly sad, there was a kind of release at the end as well. It’s an incredible show, and both Matt Bohmer and Jonathan Bailey deserve to be nominated for Emmys next time around. I doubt that it will get a lot of Emmy nods–It’s a Sin, which was also brilliantly done and brilliantly acted, was completely snubbed by the Emmys. Twenty years ago it would have not only gotten a lot of nominations, it would have probably run a clean sweep on award night, but sadly, the history of AIDS and gay suffering simply doesn’t have the cachet it did when everyone wore red ribbons to awards shows and red carpets. I do recommend the show, and I want to move the book up in my TBR pile. (I am taking Raquel’s Calypso, Corpses and Cooking with me this morning and I am hoping I’ll be able to finish it while I wait to get the car back.)

We also started watching the second season of Reacher, which is very fun. Alan Ritchson, who was already huge in the first season, used the time between filming to bulk up even more. He certainly embodies the character physically far better than Tom Cruise could ever hope to, with no offense to Cruise; he’s just not the right physical type, and since one of the best known facts about the character is his enormous size, well…he was never going to please fans of the books. I stopped reading the series about ten or so years ago–I have no grasp of the passage of time, so you’ll have to give me some grace on that, nor do I recall why I stopped reading it. Obviously, Lee Child isn’t missing my money, but I was a big fan of the series and still remember it fondly; there were some terrific books in that series, and The Killing Floor may be one of the best series-launch novels of all time.

I have to work today when I get home from the oil change and other errands this morning; I really need to spend some time with the book today and I also need to work on the house a lot more. The apartment has really slid, and allowing Sparky free range to do as he pleases has resulted in a lot of debris on the floor–and all of my good pens are missing. Paul’s cigarette lighters, highlighters, scissors, spoons, plastic wrap, plastic bags, dryer sheets, and a lot of other miscellaneous stuff is scattered all over the floors both up and downstairs…and he’s also wreaked havoc in the laundry room and the bathroom. The kitchen floor has never really been completely cleaned up since the ceiling collapse, either. I have decided, though, that this year’s Christmas present to myself is going to be a new microwave. My current one is well over ten years old, and it works fine…but I never read the manual and so am never sure how to use for anything than reheating something. Paul uses it more than I do, and he also never cleans it, so it’s always a filthy mess. Since I never really use it, I tend to not pay attention and then I always notice it when I don’t have time to clean it, and then forget. They had a great one on-line at Costco, so I think next weekend I’ll go pick it up, and then donate the old one (after a thorough cleaning) to work so we have one in our department.

And that’s how I know I am officially old: appliances are my preferred gift.

Baby, Come to Me

Today’s hunk is probably going to get flagged for “sensitive content” on the various prudish social media sites, but so be it.

The roofers came in yesterday and worked on the kitchen ceiling, and of course day one, I was able to close Sparky up in the bathroom until they left. Yesterday, he figured out how to open the bathroom door, which meant I had to crate him and he did NOT like that at all. But apparently, our cat is an evil genius and super smart–not a bad thing, it just means our only option when the apartment is being worked on is to crate him, and I really don’t like doing that…but he’s so curious about everything I fear if he got out we’d never catch him and he’d be so excited by all the new things to explore and investigate…sigh. Hopefully they won’t be here long; they just have to do some caulking and rehang the fixture. We will see.

I survived my first physical therapy session–which wasn’t bad at all. They gave me some exercises to do, which don’t take long, and I go back again tomorrow morning for round two. I will be able to schedule it around my work schedule, so that’s also a plus, and I really like my therapist. I have to say, having not had a lot of experience with medical stuff other than when Paul was having some procedure and my primary care visits (and having heard horror stories from other people about hospitals, treatments, insurance, etc.) this was extremely easy and simple. I have really gotten amazing care on every level, despite the misdiagnosis from my former primary care physician, and the insurance (knock wood) has been easy every step of the way; if there were any issues with it, it was handled by the medical staff and I didn’t have to deal with any of it.

The worst part of this entire thing–once I was able to disconnect all the things I was attached to for 72 hours after the procedure–was the antibiotics, which made me nauseous; they had also giving me an anti-nausea medication so I could handle those. But I absolutely hated them. The anti-nausea medication kept me from vomiting it all back up, but I could also tell when the nausea was occurring. I never had to throw up, but I could tell my body was fighting it with the help of the other pill, and while not as unpleasant as actually throwing up would be, it was unpleasant.

And you know, if that’s the worst thing to experience after this kind of major surgery, that’s pretty impressive. I got amazing care.

So, yesterday from shortly after I got home from PT until about six last night I was exiled from my workspace, and so I simply sat in my easy chair and read this year’s Christmas murder mystery from Donna Andrews, Let It Crow! Let It Crow! Let It Crow! and am enjoying it–Meg participating as a last minute replacement in a television reality competition blacksmithing show (which is actually a brilliant idea) was an excellent way to shut down listening to Sparky howl from upstairs while they worked on the ceiling. I didn’t get as far into it as I should have, or would have under ordinary circumstances, but I was often going upstairs to try to calm him down and there was a lot of sawing, drilling, and hammering noises. I got about a hundred pages in, which wasn’t bad at all, really, given all the distractions, and the book flows so smoothly…that’s one of the things that I love about Donna’s books–they are so smooth, everything flows nearly and cleanly into the next scene, chapter, clue, strange occurence, and that feeling carries back and forth between books. I counted the books listed at the front of this volume, and by my count, this is book thirty-three in the series; how many other series have exceeded that number? Ellery Queen? Nero Wolfe? Perry Mason? And all at the same publisher, too. That’s really a skill that should be respected.

We watched some more of Fellow Travelers last night and the show is very good; high production values, excellent writing, superb acting (Jonathan Bailey deserves at the very least an Emmy nomination, but I doubt he’ll get it; gay men playing gay parts seldom get recognized) and it’s an important story–showing how horrific it was to be gay back during the days of Eisenhower and McCarthy, and working in Washington; I’m glad Thomas Mallon wrote the book and even gladder Showtime made it and clearly spared no expense. But…it’s hard to watch sometimes. I won’t say it’s triggering, because that’s not the right word, but as i told Paul last night, this isn’t going to end well. The story flashes back and forth between the 1950’s and the 1980’s, in AIDS-devastated San Francisco in 1985, so…yeah, not exactly going to end on a high note, is it? As I was watching last night, I couldn’t help but think of Felice Picano’s Like People in History, which similarly flashed back to the past from the present–AIDs-ravaged New York in the early 1990s–through the entire progress of queer rights and the arrival of HIV/AIDS. That would also make a terrific mini-series, and these stories, hard as they are to read and watch and relive, are important because the memories of living through that time, and what it was like, are fading…and as those of us who survived the plague years get older and die from causes other than HIV/AIDS, I worry those stories won’t be told, or remembered, anymore. It’s bad enough that it’ll be thought of as distant history and not as horrific as it was, something that happened to other people a long time ago.

I remember when I first started writing, and in that time period for queer people there was always the question–do I write about HIV/AIDS? Does everything–all of our art–have to center HIV/AIDS? Even now, I wonder about whether I should or not in a book; do I have a responsibility to my readers and my community to talk about HIV, PrEP, undetectable viral loads and so forth? Or is that something people don’t want to read about, would find intrusive to the narrative? I’ve never wanted to write anything that even remotely hinted at that heavy-handed “a very special episode” way so many television shows handled social issues in the 1980s.

Heavy thoughts for a Wednesday morning before heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back probably later, depending on the workers.

She’s a Lady

Saturday morning and I have errands to run today and chores to do; writing to get done and emails to write. I also want to spend some time today reading as well. I was a lolly-gag this morning, leisurely remaining in bed far longer than is my norm. It felt lovely, frankly, and I think it was exactly what I needed to get my body and my mind back in the order it needs to be in for me to function properly.

In other words, I think I have finally recovered from my trip to Left Coast Crime, which is marvelous.

Last evening I finished reading Catriona McPherson’s A Gingerbread House (more on that later), I actually wrote for a bit (more on that later) and then once Paul got home we binged through the rest of season 2 of Bridgerton, which I think I enjoyed much more than the first (despite the absence of gorgeous charismatic Regé-Jean Page, whom I stopped missing once the story really began going). I think I actually preferred the plot of season two more than the one for season one, and it was absolutely lovely seeing an openly gay actor (Jonathan Bailey) so brilliant and convincing in a traditional male romantic leading role. Is that homophobic of me, or a commentary on show business’ homophobia and fear of casting openly gay male actors in those types of roles? I am not sure.

So last evening was quite an accomplished one, and I was most pleased to see that going into work on Friday was actually helpful. I did manage to get a lot done in the office yesterday as well, which was lovely, and that carried over into my evening here at the Lost Apartment. Today, as I mentioned, I have errands to run (prescriptions, mail, groceries) and chores to do (dishes, floors, organizing) and I would love nothing more than to get some writing and reading done today as well. One can dream, can’t one? I want to get through the first draft of my story this afternoon, and I’d like to work some more on something else I started working on yesterday; nothing of import, really, simply a novel idea I’ve had for a very long time that, for some reason yesterday I couldn’t get out of my head, so I just went ahead, found the existing files, and started writing my way through the first chapter. It actually flowed pretty well, and before I knew it–and it was time to call it quits for the evening–I’d written well over a thousand words, which was marvelous, and had also done no less than a thousand or so on my story. This was pleasing, as Constant Reader is no doubt aware of how I always worry that the ability to write is a skill that I might lose at some point in my life, and it always, always, terrifies me.

I am absolutely delighted to let you know that my story “The Silky Veils of Ardor”, originally published in The Beat of Black Wings, edited by the incomparable Josh Pachter, has been selected as this week’s “Barb Goffman Presents” by Wildside Press in this week’s Black Cat Weekly. I am not the most secure short story writer in the world (many thanks to both Josh and Barb for their keen editorial eye that helped improve the story dramatically from the terrible first draft I wrote years ago), so these little victories help a lot with my Imposter Syndrome issues–which inevitably raise their ugly Cerberus-like heads all the time but especially when I am in the malaise period after finishing a novel manuscript, and especially if I am trying to work on something else and it simply isn’t coming. I am confident now that I will not only finish an initial draft of my story this weekend but perhaps even finish that first chapter I started writing last night and maybe even an outline/synopsis of said book project, which has been languishing in my head for at least a dozen years now, if not more. I mean, it’s not Chlorine, obviously; but that book is becoming even more complicated for me the more I research it–not a bad thing, but indicative of how much work the book is going to be. I was paging through William J. Mann’s Behind the Screen the other night, and I once again was amazed at how tunnel-like my vision was in my initial conception of the book and who the characters needed to be; but I also think the more research I do and the more fears I have of writing it making it all the more necessary for me to actually go ahead and do so.

I really need to work on my focus. I don’t know what it’s actually like to be able to simply write a book and block everything else out of my life in order to solely focus on the writing; my ADHD certainly makes it more difficult and I am inevitably always juggling a million things at once. What must it be like to be able to laser focus all of my attention and energy on a book? It will be interesting to see how retirement, should I ever reach that place, will change and/or make a difference in my writing, won’t it?

I imagine I won’t know what to do with all the extra time. I’ve gotten so used to being scattered in my approach to everything I write that I don’t know what being singularly focused that way would be like, or if it’s even possible for me.

On that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader!