Tag: Kafka

A Teenager in Love

Monday morning and back to the office blog. I did write some yesterday–not nearly enough–and I did get some things done this weekend. I bought blinds for the breakfast nook, but I think they are too small; I may have to exchange them for another, larger set. Which is okay; I can do it after work one night as the Lowe’s is just up Elysian Fields. Tonight after work I have to go to the gym to do PT, and then I’m coming home to do some more writing and cleaning. Paul’s moving into the Monteleone on Wednesday, which means I’ll be here alone with the Sparkster, and also means Sparky will be very needy. He loves the cat treats I got him this weekend, no surprise there, and so I will continue to dole them out for good behavior. I feel rested this morning, which is different from most usual Monday mornings, but I think that has to do with making myself get up early Sunday morning and not sleeping late again the way I did Saturday morning.

Still, that felt amazing.

I feel pretty good this morning, too. The temperature dropped again over night, so there is a bit of a chill in the air this morning. I need to actually look at the program for S&S this weekend so I can put the stuff I am doing on my calendar and can start planning for the weekend. It’ll be weird being home alone for the long weekend (Wednesday thru Monday), but I’ve been a Festival widow since January anyway, so it probably won’t even be noticeable. I’ve also taken Monday off, as it’s always brutal getting up at six in the morning after the Festivals have concluded. It was a little odd this morning, though; Sparky usually comes and starts smacking me in the face with his paw just before the alarm goes off, and continues to do so while purring and cuddling until I get up. He didn’t come out from under the bed until I actually got out of bed, and just followed me downstairs instead of insisting on food immediately. His bowl was completely empty this morning, too.

I did write about a thousand new words on the short story yesterday, but my mind kept wandering and I got up to do something and just never went back. I also edited the 2000 words or so I had already done, so I think it was probably more new words than merely a thousand. It still feels a little rusty for me when I’m writing, but the best way to get past that is to keep writing until it starts to feel natural again and my mind stops wandering when I am writing. That’s the weirdest part. Usually when I write I shut out everything and am laser-focused, that’s not the case anymore and that’s fine.

My mind is still bouncing all over the place, too. It’s trying to spike my anxiety, too, but I just take some deep breaths and calm down, which is a lot easier to do with the new medications.

I did finish reading The Cook by Harry Kressing, which was an interesting and short read. It was a black comedy of sorts, more of a Kafka-esque fable than anything else, but in all honesty I enjoyed the movie version (Something for Everyone) a lot more than I did the book; in the book Conrad seduces everyone with his incredible food and force of will; in the movie, he’s played by a stunningly beautiful young Michael York who actually sexually seduces his prey until he gets what he wants. I will do a more in-depth review of the book at some point, but it does play into my thoughts that Saltburn owes more to that movie than it does The Talented Mr. Ripley or Brideshead Revisited.

We also finished watching season two of The Tourist, which was twisty and clever and fun and we really enjoyed it and are really looking forward to the third season–the second ended with a terrific cliffhanger twist that definitely will make for a fascinating and exciting third season. Plus, Jamie Dornan and Danielle Macdonald have some amazing chemistry together.

I also watched some documentaries last night about Jayne Mansfield, who I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I’m not entirely sure what triggered me to thinking about her again. I first read about her in Earl Wilson’s The Show Business Nobody Knows when I was a teenager, and from there went on to read May Mann’s biography of her, Jayne Mansfield. She was very interesting to me, and was thrilled when her daughter began her career as an actress. I remember thinking Mariska Hargitay? She must be Jayne Mansfield’s daughter because what are the odds of there being two Mariska Hargitays? and watched her for years on Law and Order: SVU. Oh, now I do remember. I bought a copy of the Wilson off ebay because I thought it might be helpful with Chlorine, to give me an idea of what it was like to be in show business in the 1950’s, and of course, he devoted a chapter to her. I bought another bio of her off eBay recently, and she is very interesting, as she always has been to me. I’ve only seen one film of hers, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter, which I thought was hilarious and she was fantastic in it. Benjamin Dreyer brought her up on one of the social media channels this weekend, and so I thought I’d find what I could of her on Youtube. Her story was actually perfect for someone like Jackie Collins or Jacqueline Susann to have written a huge trashy novel about, I’ve always thought. I also loved that she was actually–despite her image as a sexy dumb blonde–incredibly smart, almost genius level. And she only worked in show business for about ten years–while having four children, too, and keeping that incredible figure.

It’s funny; I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, Constant Reader, but I generally use song titles for my blog posts. About twelve years ago it was getting harder and harder to think up song titles organically, so I started using themes–Stevie Nicks songs, Pet Shop Boys songs, top 100 hits of 1977, that sort of thing. I can’t remember now which years I’ve used so I recently went back to the top 100 of 1959, I think; it’s interesting how many titles and songs have to do with teenagers; clearly, modern songwriters don’t have to write about teenage heartbreak anymore to appeal to young listeners. I also started watching Eras: The Taylor Swift Concert Movie, and I have to say I am very impressed. I can’t dedicate three and a half hours to watching it, but putting it on and listening while doing chores is terrific. Her show is amazing–I still have over an hour to watch (and am bummed she didn’t do “Red”) and I am actually looking forward to it. I also love how much right-wingers hate her.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day Constant Reader, and I may be back later, you never can be sure. I’m tricky that way!

Sexy Eyes

Well, we survived a Friday the 13th in October–terrifying!

It was actually a rather beautiful day in New Orleans, in all honesty. I had a bit of a morning–there’s been some anxiety building inside my head since I got home from work on Wednesday to discover a jury duty summons in the mail. (For the record, I am not one of the majority of Americans who hate doing this little part of their responsibilities as a citizen; I always think, these are probably the same people who bitch constantly about our flawed criminal justice system–which is not incorrect–but you don’t get to complain about juries and the system when you resent serving on juries or try to get out of doing it. The system is only as good as the jurors selected, after all. Anyway, I digress. I got the summons on Wednesday afternoon, and I was supposed to report this morning. Obviously, it was delayed or went out late or something, but the last thing I need to do is deal with jury duty between now and my surgery; all those tests and appointments and so forth that i have to do before the surgery, etc. etc. I decided to fill out the form on-line and ask for a deferment; alas, it wasn’t until I finished registering that I found out if I wanted to be excused, I needed to go to the courthouse and ask in person as well as provide a note from my doctor. Wow, I thought, kind of like being back in high school. I had an MRI scheduled Friday morning, so I figured I’d ask them then. Well, my surgeon wasn’t in the office and no one else wanted to do it, suggesting I check with my primary care. As my primary care office is near the courthouse and I had to pick up a prescription there anyway, I went by. Primary care wans’t in, and was advised to try my surgeon. Jesus fucking Christ, apparently I woke up in a Kafka novel. So, I decided to go to the courthouse and see what happened….and they literally told me to have my doctor email it to the court clerk, gave me a card with her name and email address, and sent me home.

Who knew the Orleans Parish Courthouse would be the easiest, “no big deal” part of this? Certainly not one Gregalicious, that’s for sure.

I came home and did my work-at-home chores, as well as my laundry chores, and then Tug settled in for a nap in my lap while I finished reading the Riley Sager (which I enjoyed; more on that later) and started Elizabeth Hand’s A Haunting on the Hill and am quite liking it as well. Paul and I watched a horror film from 2007 called Trick r Treat, which was kind of clever yet neither of us had heard of it before. That was in honor of both Friday the 13th and it being spooky season and all. I do love fall in New Orleans. It was lovely running around this morning doing all that stuff with lovely sunny but cool weather; the kind where you can wear sleeves and jeans outside comfortably.

The refrigerator is being delivered today, so I have to make room for the delivery guys and hope that they come earlier rather than later. I have no control over this whatsoever, so I am just going to roll with it and see where things wind up. While I wait for the refrigerator I am going to try to get this done as well as some other things; trying not to get anxious or worry about things that cannot be controlled. They have my cell phone number, after all, and if I keep it with me…it’s really irrational to get anxious about things like this, isn’t it? Just like it was irrational to get so worked up and tense over the jury duty thing this morning. It’s just wasted energy and it just leaves me tired, and I really don’t need anything else in my life to make me tired; I can do that quite well and need no further assistance with that, thank you very much. UPDATE: it is out for delivery and expected between 3:30 and 7:30, which means most likely groceries will have to wait until tomorrow and I can actually spend the morning cleaning up down here and making it not quite the disaster area it currently appears to be. A quick glance at Twitter shows that Tulane won at Memphis last night, and apparently Colorado blew a big lead and lost to Stanford.

I slept really well last night–and woke up at five, like always. I fell back asleep until Tug (Paul has started calling him Sparky because he gets the zoomies–but the next time he does I’m getting the laser light out–nothing like the red dot to wear your kitten out of his BIg Kitten Energy.) wanted his breakfast at six–can’t blame him, and I’m kind of awake already anyway. I stayed in bed until about seven before rising, thinking that was a lot m rore rational than trying to stay in bed–especially since I knew the delivery window was between eight and eight; hope springs eternal that it was going to be a morning delivery. DENIED. Tug now is completely at home and curious about everything; there are bottle caps everywhere from him chasing them around, and of course I always have to be careful with what I leave on surfaces. It’s also election day here in Louisiana, and I must go vote so I can vote against our evil attorney general’s bid for governor, which would be a disaster so great people would start remembering Bobby Jindal’s disgraceful tenure in Baton Rouge with nostalgia.

The salt intrusion has been slowed significantly–the last I heard the salt water wouldn’t be here until around Thanksgiving–a month later than projected, and there was a chance it would dissipate before then, too. I should probably pay more attention, but I have a flat of water and a two-gallon jug (which I will save for hurricane season in the attic, if the salt doesn’t get up here after all, and I should always be prepared for hurricane season anyway), but probably won’t have to buy any more of that.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. There’s a lot I can get done this morning, and I intend to do it before curling up with my book with whatever game is on at eleven in the background. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader; I’ll probably be back later.

Lust to Love

It’s literally amazing how much stuff fell by the wayside over the last couple of weeks, really. I realized yesterday that it was already the 26th and thought how can that be? Mom just died on Valentine’s Day–twlve days ago? But I went to the office the rest of that week and drove over for the funeral last weekend, and then I was on bereavement leave and worked at home–the Fat Tuesday holiday fell in the midst of my leave–and today I am going back into the office, which feels like a step in the right direction towards normalcy, of a sort. Life does goes on, and as I’ve moped around this last week, it also kind of feels like I’ve been in a fog of sorts for quite some time. I should be used to this sort of thing, as it always happens with a paradigm shift–like how the weekend before Katrina we’d gone to Hammond to celebrate my birthday and had a great time…and while we were evacuated, that seemed like was a different life, a different world, and even happened to different people. Murder in the Magic City/Murder on the Menu seems like it was months ago. And hadn’t I just turned in the manuscript that week before I left, with plans to get back on it as soon as I recovered from that trip? Then Mom had her stroke and everything went up into the air, and now I’m trying to find all the balls I dropped somewhere that I had been somehow managing to keep up in the air.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day; it was eighty degrees when I made groceries and gassed up the car. I kept the toe elevated and iced for most of the rest of the day while I read more of Abby Collette’s marvelous Body and Soul Food–which I am really enjoying–and then around five gave up on everything for the rest of the day. I printed out a short story I need to read to see if I can revise it into something that I can turn in for this anthology I’ve committed a story to, and of course I have to dive back into the manuscripts. I have to write something for Paul for Saints and Sinners; and I think I may have agreed to write something else? I need to do thank you cards and I need to mail the books to the winners of the Facebook page takeover giveaway that I did. I need to check in on my dad and sister, and of course at some point this week the fuse for the dryer is going to arrive so I can see if I can get that working again (prayers are appreciated and welcomed; not having a dryer has really sucked). I also ordered some other things I need. I just feel like I don’t have a grasp yet on my own life, and I don’t really like the way it feels. It’s almost like I am swimming through a fog, and things I used to easily remember and keep track of now just go right out of my mind like they were never there in my head in the first place. I don’t like this feeling; I don’t like not being able to trust my memory anymore–but even now as I write this I am wondering hasn’t this been the case for a while? Isn’t that why you started making lists in the first place–because if you didn’t write it down you’d forget?

I can’t even trust my memory about my memory. There’s a Kafka novel in there somewhere.

I’m also more aware of how quickly I tire now, too. I know that’s been going on for a while–since last summer’s horrific bout with Long COVID–but I am hoping that once I get back into the gym I will start building up my endurance again, and I also have to accept that it won’t be quick and my body won’t change at the speed that it used to. For one example, I was overweight when I moved back to New Orleans in August of 2001; I’d lost twenty pounds and tightened up everything by Halloween so I could wear a slutty costume. I’m not going to be able to return to the gym and be able to dress slutty again within eight weeks. (Not that I would dress slutty now–I’m in my sixties, for God’s sake, and I don’t care whether people think I look good or not anymore. It was never the priority of the gym for me in the first place. Yes, I liked looking good and yes, I liked getting flirted with and hit on, but for me that was a nice side effect to having the endurance to dance for hours, or feeling good physically.

God, I used to be so vain! I don’t really miss vanity, though.

One of the things I was working on before Mom had the final stroke was building a website–just something to play around with when I have time (ha ha ha ha ha, sure, Greg, that’s going to happen) and of course, that was the same fucking day I got the text from my sister, so I’ve not done a whole hell of a lot there, you know? I did get the domain registered, and I loaded a picture as well as info on A Streetcar Named Murder, but it’s going to take me some more time to learn how to do all the things I want it to do.

Because I am just swimming in free time.

I’m a bit groggy this morning, mainly because I am out of the habit of waking up to the alarm now–it actually jolted me awake, as opposed to me already being awake when it goes off, which means a retraining of myself yet again as this does not feel natural to me. It feels weird having to go back to the office this morning, as well. My toe’s not quite as painful this morning, either–it still hurts, mind you, but I can walk without limping and it’s not as bad as it has been, which is progress. I am still going to message my doctor today, though. We’ll see how it feels at the end of the day, won’t we? I suppose I can always ice it again once I am home tonight.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have the best Monday you can, Constant Reader.