Tag: Love

The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA

First day of vacation, and Sparky let me sleep late. He even slept in the bed with me, which he never does. And wow, did I sleep well. The weather turned yesterday; it started raining in the morning and continued to do so, off and on, all day. It was still sprinkling when I got home from the office, and we had torrential rains and thunderstorms last night. I was a bit tired when I got home last night–I spent the day at the office making sure I didn’t leave any loose ends that might need my input dangling before my vacation. I watched the latest episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, reunion part two, and I really was…well, mostly bored. As I watched, I kept thinking I don’t like any of these women other than Rachel and Jennifer, and the rest can be gladly retired. I also don’t care about any of their conflicts, so why was I watching? I’d skipped most of the season, only checking in as the season was drawing to a close, and honestly, I don’t feel like I missed anything. I don’t really watch any of the Housewives regularly anymore (outside of Salt Lake City), and I used to watch all of them. I also have to admit that if not for SLC, I probably wouldn’t watch any of them anymore.

Today’s forecast is for rain all day, and I am a bit nervous to check the weather along my route; but I’ll be listening to my book and snug inside the car. I just have to watch out for other drivers…and of course, I’ll be driving through the countryside of Alabama in the dark yet again. It really is creepy. I have to pick up around here and pack, get cleaned up, load the car and take Sparky to the Cat Practice. I am also going to swing uptown and pick up a prescription and the mail on the way out of town. Jazz Fest was canceled yesterday; that’s how bad the weather was here. I got stuck in Jazz Fest traffic on the way home and was more than a bit annoyed; it took over a half an hour for me to get home from work, and yes, I was worn out by the time I got home. Sparky was also very loving and needy when I got home, so hence it was to my easy chair with me to get caught up on the news (bleargh). I did watch some more history and lore and legends of Alabama and Kansas, and started thinking about writing history once again. I’ve actually created this entire universe of my fictional county in Alabama (based primarily on the county we’re from) that goes back to the early statehood days–I love the idea of my cursed county, whose history was written in blood–and maybe someday I’ll start working on that some more. There are any number of short stories, novellas, and book ideas set there that I’ve either made notes on, or started writing; I’ve also never told the story of how Blackwood Hall (from Bury Me in Shadows) burned during the war. There are legends that were talked about in that book, but nobody really knew for sure what happened to the house and the family that remained there while the menfolk were off at war.

And of course, going to Alabama today probably has a lot to do with why I’ve been thinking about it so much lately. You think?

I have to admit I was highly amused by the Royal visit to Washington this week. At first, I was annoyed that Charles and Camilla were coming, and thus legitimizing this corrupt regime. I’ve never been a fan of either (I loved Diana, and will shred and block for Diana slander), and hated how they seemed to win out in the end. I also figured if any British royals had to do it, it might as well be them. But…I have to say I was highly amused. The gift of a bellend with his name on it was simply too delicious to be borne, and the fact he was excited like a toddler on Christmas morning to get it made it even more hilarious. Too stupid to know when you’re being mocked is certainly a look–and the fact that the Brits knew he’d be thrilled about being mocked to his face? Chef’s kiss.

How sad is it that a foreign royal had to give a pro-America pro-democracy speech to our Congress to remind them of their jobs, their sacred duty, and what their role is to standing ovations, which from the Reich Right was either proof they didn’t know what he was talking about, or it was just politeness from the “fuck your feelings” crowd; who knows? But they certainly have jumped on board with gerrymandering once our illegal and illegitimate Supreme Court okayed it. They are all such despicably corrupt monsters–Alito, Roberts, Barrett, Gorsuch, and the other two scumbags–but the Right has been pushing fascism since the Reagan years, if not longer, and you can miss me with your praise for that prick, too.

I’m still angry about the VRA, and white people continue to be the absolute worst. I saw a Iowa farmer (also a Trump voter would be my guess, because he never mentioned once who he voted for–because anyone who didn’t vote for this is very upfront about it because they are angry) whining about his farming subsidies being cut–guess he’s not too happy about the austerity and billionaire tax cuts he voted for. But isn’t time he stopped being a welfare queen suckling at the teats of the US taxpayers? Are you really so mediocre at your job you need to be subsidized? Why are my tax dollars going to support his lazy ass? Pull yourself up by the bootstraps! After all, you’re white and everything breaks your way and this country–yet you still need welfare. I sure hope you’re not wasting taxpayer money on luxuries like soda or candy, bitch–those are my tax dollars you’re draining from the Treasury, and I think you should only be allowed to eat what people on SNAP are allowed–and maybe a periodic drug-and-alcohol test. I mean, isn’t that what people like him think about handouts to other people?

The United States, where mediocre white people take handouts from the taxpayers while complaining about other people getting it being lazy freeloaders. Fuck you all the way to hell, rural Trump voters. How’s that price of gas looking for all that driving y’all have to do? Me, I live in one of those “horrible Democratic run blue cities”–and only need to buy a tank of gas per month because if I leave town I don’t even drive three hundred miles PER MONTH. Why aren’t you screaming LET’S GO TYRANT?

I watched this filth tear down Joe Biden for four years. Are y’all better off than you were two years ago? I thought this was all about economic anxiety, not racism? Remember those bald-faced lies? Christ on the cross. I am so fucking glad I’m old and don’t have children.

Sigh.

But this trip will be a nice break from reality. I won’t be seeing much news while I am gone, and won’t be posting here probably again until I get back on Wednesday. It’ll be nice spending time with Dad and my aunt, and there’s just something about the county–and being in Alabama–that feels comforting.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely weekend and first half of the week; I doubt I’ll be here again before I get home next week, so until then–hang in there, because always remember, this too will pass.

Sexy Richard DuBois poses for a physique magazine cover in the 1950s…but we know who the real target audience actually was.

Galveston

Thursday and last day of work before my trip. I didn’t sleep that great last night–lots of tossing and turning and waking up, and for some ungodly reason Sparky decided I should get up at four–and then hassled and harassed me until I finally got up before six. I don’t feel tired–that may change, of course– and actually kind of good this morning. I didn’t have anything to bring for lunch, so I guess I will be ordering for delivery again. It’ll be a nice treat for myself, and of course tonight I’ll have to spoil Sparky before I take him to board at the Cat Practice. I hate boarding him; I always worry he thinks he’s being abandoned again. Hang in there, little guy! We’ll pick you up Wednesday afternoon.

Well, this Supreme Court continues to prove themselves disgusting pigs and traitors who make Roger P. Taney look like a fucking amateur. All I will say is: you know who you are, you know what you did MORE THAN ONCE, and I will forgive MAGA before I forgive you. I hope you’re proud of yourselves. Hope your moral superiority is worth it.

You have no idea, Constant Reader, how glad I am that I am old.

I was kind of tired when I got home from work yesterday, but I forced myself to do some chores around trying to get my Youtube algorithm un-fucked-up with; yet another reason algorithms should be done away with because they are of Satan. As I have mentioned, I’ve been watching the insane bread-and-circus of this idiotic political movement eating itself alive. I’ve started calling this whole mess The Real Housewives of MAGA. Kristi and Pam have been fired from the cast, but not soon enough; may the rest of their lives be as ignominious and hateful as they deserve. Yet Laura Loomer, Candace, and Erika rage on. I despise all three of them, but watching them meltdown and come for each other can be highly entertaining. I generally watch updates on RHOMAGA from more leftist influencers, but sometimes I won’t be paying full attention, and before I can stop it Youtube autoplays the next video…and sometimes it’s an actual video from one of these three little pigs. This fucks up my algorithms, and as a result Youtube was offering me right-wing content more so than ever before. It could also be that someone there rejiggered said algorithms to push right-wing content. It’s so much fun living in a world where you cannot discern fact from fiction on the news. Sigh. Again, I am very glad I am old.

I’m proud of myself for getting the dishes done and the dishwasher run last night around watching documentaries on Youtube. I saw an absolutely fascinating one on the White Hurricane on the great lakes, which sounded like it was horrible. The video primarily focused on the lakes and the conditions; many ships were out there before they knew how big the storm was getting or how fast it was going. I am assuming that Michigan and other surrounding areas also got hit pretty hard. I’m planning on looking up more information on it. More than 250 people were killed on the lakes by the storm, and yes, apparently the surrounding areas were battered, too. Imagine a massive blizzard with hurricane force winds. Sounds pretty fucking terrifying to me, frankly.

I need to make a packing list for the trip tomorrow; I let Paul take the good suitcase so I am going to have to find something to take with me. I’d rather not take the big suitcase, but I may just go ahead and do so there will be room for everything instead of shoving things into overstuffed gym bags. I also have to run an errand on the way home tonight; I should go uptown and get the mail. I’ve been avoiding doing this after work because driving uptown on Claiborne is such a damned nightmare; but I have a prescription I need to get and so I may as well stop by the mail too; I also need to pick up my copy of Jordan Harper’s new book. I’ve got Alafair’s latest queued up on Audible to listen to in the car on the way up tomorrow. But it’s also supposed to rain this afternoon, and bearing that in mind, I may wait to go uptown until tomorrow and after I drop Sparky off. That actually makes the most sense; load up the car, take Sparky to the vet, and go uptown and then head down Claiborne to I-10.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow before I head out. Till then!

I highly recommend the Bloody Mary’s at Commanders Palace.

Talking in Your Sleep

I am hoping that this morning won’t be like yesterday. It was quite odd. I felt nauseous and warm when I got up after a fitful night’s sleep in which I could never seem to get quite comfortable. I kept feeling warmer and warmer until I was sweating and overheated and quite sick. I laid down for a while, watching more videos about 1970s horror movies (television and film) which was quite fun. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday; I suspect my sinuses had a lot to do with yesterday’s bout of yuck. I need to stop and get Claritin-D on my way home from work tonight…to an empty house, as Paul is departing this morning for his trip up north. So, yes, I am very well aware Sparky is going to be very needy tonight and the rest of the week until I take him to the vet’s Friday on MY way out of town. Sigh. But I did sleep well last night and I feel pretty good so far this morning. I think I’ll be fine.

I tend to get paranoid about my health now whenever I am not feeling 100% after last year–and at this time one year ago I was horribly sick. I missed Paul’s birthday last year because I was sick, and of course, it’s today and he’s leaving. We seem to never have much luck these last few years for his birthday. I think we’ll celebrate after we both get home next week.

Because I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, I didn’t accomplish a whole lot other than watching the television with Sparky purring in a cuddle puddle in my lap. I did read another chapter of The Egyptian Cat Mystery and Listen for the Whisperer, and I scribbled a lot into my journal. I’ve done a lot of scribbling in my journal lately; I realized as I finished my red journal last night that I had only started the red journal after the first of the year….and wasn’t even halfway finished with it a mere month ago–so that’s a lot of scribbling these past few weeks. What I’ve been doing lately is trying to write after work on weekdays, and letting my mind and body have the weekend off….so I just give my creative ADHD free rein on the weekends and scribble in the journal. And the way my brain has been going these past few weekends has been pretty amazing. So many notes, so many solutions, and so much rewriting and writing to be done. But…nothing will ever get done unless you start, right?

One by one, step by step, and you will gradually get there. Patience is always the key and the one thing I always seem to have in short supply.

And while I did spend almost the entire day in my chair under a blanket with a remote in my hand, I did scribble. I also watched some fun Youtube videos; I also watched some on Louisiana, Kansas and Alabama lores and legends, some news (Lord), and I also watched (rewatched? I don’t remember) All Make: The International Male Catalogue, which was interesting. It also ties into my study of masculinity and gender, because it was influential in changing the ways men dress. I used to get it, of course, but I don’t remember if it was the 1980s or the 1990s when I did. I bought a swimsuit and a pirate blouse from them once; the swimsuit was iffy quality (I also realized that the swimsuits and underwear didn’t make the models look the way they did, but rather showed off their impressive bodies; they were selling the illusion that clothes made the man rather than the reverse) but the pirate blouse was for a Halloween costume, and it lasted forever until I have it away to someone else to use as a costume.

One thing you get used to living in New Orleans is the recyclability of costumes.

I was very disappointed to hear that Don Lemon interviewed Keith Edwards1 on his show last night, and it needs to be said and addressed and no longer swept under the rug: we have a severe racism problem in the queer community. Edwards will never beat the racism allegations; I’ve seen and heard what he has to say to Black women, and his condescending superiority for such mediocrity on full display. Why was he so vested in the Texas primary? He doesn’t live there and never will. Why were so many white gays determined to bash and demean and undermine Jasmine Crockett? Bowen Yang and his trashbag friend Matt Rogers already showed how much work gay men have to do to get their heads right, but not having full white male privilege, they do like to hold on to what their skin and their genitals provides free of charge to them in this country. There have been times when Lemon has mis-stepped before; what “journalistic” need did platforming Edwards fill? Nothing, just two privileged gay men chatting? I can hear that at work anytime I need to–and at least, I know at work the conversation won’t be steeped in male privilege and racism. I don’t know. I don’t like criticizing Black gay men, but how can you ignore all the Black women screaming at you about the misogynoir Edwards is very happy to display on social media and his videos? And not even ask the question?

I’m not sure I entirely trust Talarico–he’s got charm and charisma for sure, but I also don’t trust Graham Platner in Maine, either. They say they won’t be another Sinema or Manchin, but Fetterman ran as a progressive only to show his unwashed MAGA ass once he was elected, also like Sinema, who I hope to have the chance to slap across her grifting face some time. I know I won’t live long enough to piss on her grave, but I am very hopeful I’ll be able to do that to Fetterman’s.

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

The Chicago River at night as it flows through downtown on it’s way from the lake–or did they finally allow it to flow into the lake again?

  1. Who apparently got his start working for Andy Cohen at Bravo? Yet another crime to lay at his misogynist door. ↩︎

I Don’t Know Why You Don’t Want Me

Thunder woke me up from a lovely deep sleep around five this morning, and we had a marvelous thunderstorm (and downpour) that last for about three hours…and yes, it was snug and comfy in the bed, especially after Sparky joined me in the bed for a cuddle-nap of his own. It now looks as though the storm has passed–and yes, I know Jazz Fest is this weekend, and yes, it sucks for the attendees and acts when it rains, but I still selfishly want more storms. I have to make groceries and get gas today, and would rather not do it in the rain…but it would be lovely if it kept storming this morning. According to the weather, we may have more later today and the drizzle we’re experiencing right now will last another couple of hours. I can also scratch “wash car” off the to-do list. Thanks, rain!

I slept well and feel good this morning. Paul is leaving on Tuesday for a week, and I am heading north next Friday for Alabama and then a few days in the panhandle visiting my recently widowed aunt. Sparky will be boarded (and get those razor blades trimmed), and he of course will be glued to me like velcro the entire time Paul is actually gone. Yesterday was a good day; I ran a couple of errands after work and came home to try to do some cleaning and picking up around here–as well as thinking about the work in progress, whose name may change…it occurred to me yesterday that there was a better title than the one I’m using–but I do love one-word titles and rarely get to use them.

We ordered pizza for dinner last night and finished watching Unchosen, which was, indeed, a wild ride. I am not certain they stuck the landing, but whoever came up with the idea to use the trope “a stranger comes to town” only having the “town” be a religious cult was a genius. It was very well done, though, and it was a fun ride. I do recommend it–Fra Fee is gorgeous to look at, and the acting is incredible–and since “cult”…you really don’t know what’s going to happen, and the surprising twists are all earned; there’s nothing there that wasn’t set up if you were paying attention. And as I said to Paul as we watched, “cults are really about the subjugation of women as lesser” and yup, that even holds true for the national cult we’ve been dealing with since the 1980s–the marriage of evangelicalism to the Republican Party. I’m sure there’s been some political history written about that horrible shift if the 1980 presidential election, and in retrospect, I’d say not electing Carter to a second term was one of the biggest mistakes this country has made. I don’t know whether or not Carter was a good president or not–but he was also trying to clean up the economic mess he inherited from his Republican predecessors and took all the blame for it; and you know, the Camp David accords did end decades of war between Egypt and Israel–and has lasted; the longest lasting peace in the Middle East since 1948. I’m not deregulating the airlines was the right decision–sometimes, regulation is necessary and needed; and what has happened to the airline industry since deregulation is certainly an interesting political and economic example someone should do an in-depth heavily researched history of how it impacted the nation’s economy, whether good or bad. It would be an interesting read.

When I finish this, I am going to repair to my easy chair and do some more reading. I want to read another chapter of Listen for the Whisperer and a short story I started reading this week so I could write about it, and I want to do some writing today, too. As I said earlier, I need to run to the grocery store and get some things, and I should get gas while I am out and about. I think I am also going to watch a documentary so I can write about it–I’ve been meaning to for a very long time, and I think I may have even watched the documentary once already; or maybe I just intended to and never got around to it. My sense of time is very skewed now; it’s very hard to believe the summer of the shutdown was six years ago; at this time six years ago I was already working in the garage, getting to eat donated meals from places grateful we were doing COVID testing (the meals from Waffle House were definitely my favorites; the hash browns were to die for) but it does seem like a million years ago now, doesn’t it? Likewise, things that have happened in the interim since? I have no idea when it happened. Then again, it freaks me out to know that I had those impacted teeth pulled sixteen years ago. Crazy, right? My concept of time, always not the best, has definitely been impacted.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get another cup of coffee so I can get going on my day. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow. Till then, ta ta!

Rhinestone Cowboy

Tuesday morning and all is well this morning in the Lost Apartment. I slept well and feel pretty good this morning–thus far, at any rate. Yesterday was Injection Day, and the distress I’d been experiencing for the last week gastronomically is now over, which is terrific; you always wonder if the medication will stop working at some point. I even wrote a little bit of fiction yesterday–not much, but every little bit gets me further from the starting place and closer to being finished. Every little bit definitely helps, you know?

We finished watching the FLDS documentary, Trust Me: The False Prophet, which was actually chilling. These documentaries inevitably focus on the crimes of the cult leader, but what I loved about this one was it actually focused more on the victims, and how the documentary filmmakers just really happened to be in the right place at the right time to earn his trust and his endorsement of filming everything. It was absolutely fascinating, and it was interesting to see that one of the victims realized what was going on was wrong (“the path to hell”) and became an informant for the FBI. How fucking brave was she, and then the other women, having to wake up from what was going on and wonder how they were so easily fooled–but the lesson here is how easy it is to convince true believers in false doctrine, which is a very singularly important lesson for these times, right?

Likewise, these social media posts from people choosing The Filth over their lifelong Catholicism just make me shake my head1. There are none so blind as those who will not see. The MAGA regrets we are seeing everywhere aren’t deep or meaningful–no, they just think The Filth lied to them and deceived them, not that the evil policies being enacted and enforced are wrong; they’ll vote red happily and proudly over and over again, even as it is clear to anyone not wearing blinders that the policies they voted for are what they hate–but it’s easier to blame someone else for our failings rather than take accountability, true repentance, and behavior change. No, they aren’t sorry about ICE’s abuses and the racism and the misogyny or any of their horrible positions; they’re mad because the price of gas is going up, and nothing else. “He lied to me” is much easier than “wow, what I believed and voted for are actually wrong and pretty fucking awful in practice” and it has the added bonus of absolving the person of any responsibility for their conduct.

Frankly, their vote is one thing. Being MAGA is entirely different. I also love that they are also trying to police how we receive their regrets…which makes me question their actual regrets as they try to again paint themselves as helpless victims who “didn’t know any better.” It would be one thing had they been polite about differing views from the get-go, but they were all pretty fucking awful. MAGA parents whose children have gone no-contact also love to paint themselves as victims, too–“but we’re family!” falls on deaf ears when you haven’t been acting like family. MAGA is usually the last straw, to be honest–and if it’s not, then you must have been pretty fucking awful to your kids about politics. Were you being racist, homophobic, misogynistic, or transphobic? IMAGINE how awful the things you said must have been…and then to come on-line to engage for sympathy? “How could my kids DO this?” Well, if that’s the question you’re asking, they are going to keep doing it for a very long time, and I hope not seeing your grandchildren was worth being MAGA.2

When someone goes no-contact with me, I figure I must have done something to trigger that response, or that person has simply decided I’m too “extra”–that’s happened a lot during my life; maybe not that word, but basically that’s what it was–and sure, it bothers me and makes me wonder a bit–but I also respect their wishes and don’t try to fix it.

I was actually thinking last night that I’m feeling much better than I have in a long time. The corrective shoes have eliminated leg fatigue and aching joints. I’m sleeping well and feeling rested. Getting up in the morning to the alarm, which I would still prefer not to do, hasn’t been an issue, and Sparky isn’t as pushy about me getting up in the mornings as he has been–now he’s more purring and cuddling and mewing softly rather than attacking my feet and smacking me in the face. I may relapse again back into aches and pains and fatigue–one never knows–but right now I feel pretty good, and we’re going to leave it at being happy and feeling good on a day-to-day basis. Baby steps, y’all!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Tuesday, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday (again???).

How come I never come across a gorgeous man in his underwear hanging out nonchalantly around columns?
  1. It also tells me how deep and real their faith was. You’re giving up your religion because the Pope criticized your mad God-Emperor? I’ll leave that to God, no need for me to comment. ↩︎
  2. As for me, I side-eye these folks. If people want to let bygones be bygones, so be it–but not me. I will go to my grave resenting and hating these people. I’ll never trust them. ↩︎

Smoky Mountain Rain

Yes, this is yet another song that inspired me to write a short story–“No Security Provided,” thus far an unfinished first draft, about a woman driving north on I-75 hurriedly but has to make a rest stop and finds herself in a bad situation–which I really should finish someday. It has the potential to be a very good story, you know? Or it could be a worthless piece of crap no one will want. Your mileage might vary. I’m sure it often does.

For the first time in three weeks I have a work-at-home Friday, and it feels nice to be getting back into my normal routine. Yesterday was fine; I made it through the day unscathed, not tired, and pretty cheerful for the most part. I got home in time to see the final rotation of the Gymnastics national semifinals, in which LSU clinched a spot in the finals with three incredible floor routines back to back to wrap up their night. That made me even cheerier, and watching the news didn’t upset me too terribly. (I think I’ve just snapped about the country, to be honest; I’m numb to it all, with one notable exception–more on that later) I have some quality assurance to get done this morning, and some chores I’d like to take care of. I’ll need to also figure out what to get from the grocery store and what to have delivered, and when. I do need to run uptown to the post office, and maybe can drop off a load of books to the library sale. I can do that tomorrow, and swing by–oh, you don’t need to know the rundown of my plans for the weekend. I’m not sure I do, to be honest, other than as a reminder. I’ve been watching Jeopardy! clips on Youtube, trying to sharpen my mind, as well as playing a computer game that requires focus and concentration. I don’t know if that will work or not, but it seems to be? Anyway, I am feeling content this morning. The good night’s sleep undoubtedly helped with me feeling good and rested this morning, and that is so awesome, you know? I didn’t even sleep in that late, either. Sparky was a cuddlebug again this morning, but not as patient as he was last weekend waiting for me to get up and feed him, so I was up shortly after seven without issue. I am on my second cup of coffee this morning, and I already had my morning coffee cake, but my stomach still feels a bit on the empty side, so I’ll be making some toast or something in a moment.

It occurred to me yesterday, as the news of the CNN story on the so-called on-line “rape academy,” that I will never run out of material for my newsletter series on masculinity, will I? Certainly not as long as mediocre straight men can’t get laid due to their looks or lack of personality….scratch a straight man, and the odds are in your favor when it comes to finding one who’s a rapist, or one who has thought about it. Intrusive thoughts are still your thoughts. And the way men will always circle the wagons without question or thought when a man is credibly accused of sexual assault has always been rather telling, I’ve always believed. Not all men, of course, one can never truly generalize any demographic group as there are always plenty of exceptions to the generalization, but…it’s always a man.

I remember as a kid, when reading about history or mythology, I’d encounter the word rape and not know what it meant; I assumed it meant abducting them and nothing more than that–the rape of the Sabine women comes to mind–and it wasn’t until much later that I realized what the gods and soldiers were actually doing, and how casually the concept was introduced to me, and by extension, to all kids in that time period as not a big deal that it’s no wonder than men are socialized to think their cavemannish belief they are entitled to a woman’s body whenever and wherever they want. (This is why I love Sarah Weinman’s work so much–Without Consent is probably one of the most important non-fiction works on women’s bodily autonomy in years–or at least since her last book. I really need to read it again so I can write about it. It’s just too important of a book for me to dash off some thoughts without being thoughtful, you know?)

It also looks to be another stunning April day outside, so maybe sitting outside with a book this afternoon might be a good call. Or a little walk down to the park and back, or over to Walgreens; I do need to get some Claritin. So, I think I’m going to bring this to a close and head over into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, y’all, and I’ll be back yet again in the morning.

He Thinks He’ll Keep Her

How is it Thursday already? This is what happens when your schedule disrupts. Yesterday I kept thinking it was Tuesday, and Tuesday was the same. Argle-bargle, but at least this weekend I will reset. Yesterday wasn’t a bad day at all; I never really was tired while at work and I got a lot done; likewise after I got home. I did some laundry and the dishes, read a short story, and picked up some around here–it really doesn’t take much to maintain order during the week, and if I don’t have to do all of that over the weekend, I can do other cleaning that needs doing; like the stairs haven’t been swept in I don’t know how long. In fact, after work-at-home Friday I should be all current with everything from work. Tonight is the national semi-finals for college gymnastics; LSU is in the second bracket which fortunately airs after I get home from work. GEAUX TIGERS!

We finished watching Stick last night, which is an absolutely charming little comedy about relationships and grief and healing, just like Ted Lasso–and if you loved Lasso, you will love Stick, which also has a most excellent cast. It’s a delightful comfort show, much as Tad Lasso and Schitt’s Creek, and it just makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Owen Wilson is an absolute delight in the lead, and there is excellent chemistry between the cast, too. I’m sorry it’s over, but at least with the gymnastics tonight we don’t have to figure out what to watch next, which is really nice.

I also realized last night that I missed my newsletter schedule for the week again. Heavy sigh. As I said, I did read a short story last night; Cheryl Head’s marvelous “Finding Jimmy Baldwin” from Crime Ink: Iconic, which was recently chosen for the Best Mystery and Suspense anthology by editors Megan Abbott and Steph Cha–I’m telling you, this anthology is fire–and it delivered, as I knew it would. More on that later, of course. Maybe that will be my next newsletter? Cheryl is an absolute gem, both as a person and as an author, and so fiercely intelligent and competent and kind! I am grateful she came to Saints and Sinners all those years ago with her first Charlie Mack mystery, and I’ve been a fan/reader ever since. (S&S is why I know a lot of really amazing people.) I’m also glad I decided to go back and read short stories since I can’t seem to concentrate enough to read an entire novel (I do think there’s something to the not being able to read a novel and the I need to read for research combination.)

I have been feeling a bit at sea lately, and I am sure it has everything to do with not having a normal weekend around here for a few weeks. I just can’t seem to focus or concentrate as much as I need to, but for now, at any rate, I am just letting my mind wander freely and keep up its ADHD creativity of thoughts and ideas and so forth…because it’s been a long time since my mind and body and spirit were rested and in sync and really been creative. Hurricane Season Hustle was a lot harder to write than most books I’ve written because my brain wasn’t free enough to create on its own and I had to force it. I think that’s part of why I look at the book slightly askance; it’s not just that I got so damned sick while working on it but because I had to put effort into thinking and writing it, which usually isn’t as hard as it was…but in fairness, this has been a very rough decade, and not just for me, either; others have had it much worse than I have, but it’s not a competition, and I don’t have to feel bad about recognizing how rough it’s been without having the tones of toxic masculinity whispering in my inner ear–“tough it out” or “get over yourself wimp” and other hateful things of that type.

This is why toxic masculinity is so damned damaging; it take root deep in your brain and goes off at inopportune moments like a blue light special. I wish I’d started unpacking all of this a lot sooner, frankly. Ah, well.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. May your Thursday be bright and lovely and filled with love and success, Constant Reader, and no worries. I’ll be back on the morrow.

Flooding in Venice.

All the Gold in California

…is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills, in somebody else’s name….

I always loved that song, and when I was planning on submitting a story to the Sacramento Bouchercon anthology, I was using that as the title. I don’t think I got any further than the title, the main character, and that was a “friend of” the Real Housewives. Maybe someday I’ll get around to working on it again. This, by the way, is what I am like all of the time. Yesterday was rough on me; we were busy in the clinic and I had a lot of work to catch up on. Today will be more of the same, I’m afraid, but am hoping it won’t be too bad. I did make groceries on the way home (only two insane drivers I managed to evade successfully; I swear sometimes it’s like people don’t care if they’re in an accident or not), and the traffic wasn’t too terrible. It really hasn’t been bad in quite a while, actually, even going in on the highway. Or maybe my timing has just been good lately, I don’t know for sure. But I was tired when I got home. Paul and I almost finished Stick, which I am really enjoying a lot and highly recommend, and then I had to do the dishes before going to bed. I did sleep well, and I feel more awake than I did yesterday.

I was so tired last night, y’all, it wasn’t even funny.

I have some things I need to get done today and I think we’re busy in the clinic again too. It’s a busy scheduled week, methinks, which is okay and fine. My supervisor is about to go to London for two weeks, which will make the next weeks interesting around the office. Sigh. But it’s always something, isn’t it? I have to go to Alabama for Decoration Day, and then down to Panama City Beach to visit with my aunt and Dad, at the end of the month. It’s also Paul’s birthday later this month, and I should get him something nice.

The country’s madness continues to rage, and will until it entirely burns itself out. Humanity never learns anything, does it? I don’t know what will be left when that finally does occur, and what will rise from the ashes as a phoenix. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it really does seem sometimes like civilization will never advance or progress because there’s always some completely horrible people in power somewhere. (I do think some people are beginning to understand why Iran has hated the USA for decades, which is something, one supposes.) As I was watching some of those Iranian LEGO videos the other day–they’re actually kind of entertaining, and very well done–because someone claimed we were “losing the propaganda war.” (I’d heard about them but hadn’t paid a lot of attention), which made me think about my childhood again, and how I–all of us–were essentially brainwashed by pro-American propaganda, especially when it came to history, while at the same time we studied propaganda as an evil on society. They showed us both Soviet and Nazi German propaganda, taught us that all propaganda was bad…while teaching us an idealized iteration of this country and its history, centering colonizers as heroes. (Which, I think, is yet another reason I never much cared for Westerns growing up; I could tell it was “natives bad!” propaganda, and not reflective of the west as it truly was. (Robert Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller1, which was derided by Western purists, pretty much showed the actual reality that the west was “won” by whores, grifters and drifters.)

Likewise, Columbus was a genocidal monster who didn’t really discover the Americas; it can only be said that he opened the era of American colonization and indigenous genocide.

Not a hero, really.2

I am starting to feel awake, and I don’t feel very achy or groggy this morning. Maybe I’m adapting to getting up at six again; I really shouldn’t let myself sleep in so late on weekends because adjusting back is such a fucking bitch. But this past weekend was messed up; I’ve not had a normal weekend in several weeks, and I would really like for that to go back to normal…which it will, in time for me to take another trip out of state. Woo-hoo. I don’t mind, though, it’s always nice to spend time with Dad and my newly widowed aunt. I really need to stop drifting through my life and starting to get it back under control again; I don’t necessarily have the anxiety of not knowing what I need to be doing or what is coming up and forgetting things anymore; but it still bothers me on some levels. I know I have doctors’ appointments and an injection and labs and things that need to be done, and I need to mark up my day-to-day calendar. I do feel better this morning than I did yesterday, when I just felt a bit overwhelmed about everything. I know I can get everything done that I need to get done; I just need to consult my on-going to-do list to center myself, and come out of that coasting through life feeling.

And on that cheery note, I am going to have a bit of breakfast before I head into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

  1. Note to self: watch again. ↩︎
  2. He really was a horrible person. Most Americans never learn much about him other than the standard “discovered America, funded by Ferdinand and Isabella, his three ships were the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. But he was absolutely a monster; if you don’t believe me, look it up. ↩︎

I Wouldn’t Have Missed It (For the World)

Tuesday!

It feels a little off to be heading for the office for the first time this week today, and I will most likely think it’s Monday all day. Ah, well, there are worse things, right? (Gestures wildly at the world around me.) I was busy thinking about other things yesterday that I kind of lost track of the news. I think we’re blockading the Strait of Hormuz even though the idea was to open it? This 3-D chess is just too much for my obviously simple mind. And a congressmen from each party resigned due to credible sexual assault/harassment charges, but the adjudicated rapist is still in office? Did I miss anything besides PPP (Pedo President Pestilence) striking out at infamous fifth-place finisher Riley Gaines because she played the blasphemy card on His Imperial Flatulence? (I do wish he’d added, “she’s a loser. She finished fifth.”) The worst part of our current situation is not knowing what news is actually true or not. I literally hate this timeline. I’ve been checking out both the BBC (not entirely trustworthy) or Al-Jazeera (same) but…I trust them more than I do our American outlets.

I also think I have actually figured out why I am having difficulty reading anymore; it’s because I have to read for my works-in-progress and since I am not reading those, my mind isn’t letting me read for pleasure. It’s more of that evangelical Christian work-for-reward mentality that was drilled into me as a child (more of the miseducation I and so many others received); if you’re not reading for your work you cannot read for your pleasure. So, so puritanical, and so typical of the American Dream mindset, whose very first corollary is you must work your life must be about work and should revolve around work and then you die.

I personally think that kind of live to work mentality is a huge problem, but…what can I say? My preference is always to be relaxing. Sue me for not fitting into the American norm (AGAIN). I also think this is the smarter way to live, but others are certainly free to disagree. Maybe the difference is because my true calling isn’t a 9-to-5? My writing has always been, to me, my true job, which gives me a healthy distance from my day job; I don’t depend on it for my self-worth or self-esteem. I perform my job efficiently, my clients like me, and I believe in the work I do while I’m there, which puts me ahead of so many Americans. I never wanted to chase dollars; contentment was always more appealing to me and feeling well-rounded. I haven’t even let my actual career my life, either. It’s satisfying. I enjoy writing, even the drudgery parts I have to endure to finish telling the story I want to tell. Some discipline is necessary, of course; probably more than I certainly have allowed lately, that’s for sure. I want to get back to writing some fiction this week; anything, really, be it a short story or a book.

We started watching a new show on Apple TV this past weekend, Stick with Owen Wilson. It sounded like it could have been like Ted Lasso, but at the same time it’s another tired sports cliche show so I wasn’t wild about starting it. Well, it is like Ted Lasso, and it’s heartwarming and sweet and hits all the right notes for people who’ve been looking for their next great watch. I’m looking forward to watching more.

And huzzah for Hungary! The masses are rejecting authoritarianism (Trumpism?) worldwide, and it is wondrous in our eyes. It also gave me hope for the midterms. MAGA is burning to the ground, but they still have Fox and all the rest of the lamestream media carrying their water for them–and even the ones who are leaving MAGA aren’t becoming progressives; they’ll just hibernate until their next demagogue comes along. We’re always so relieved the threat is over that we kind of want to just get back to normal without any punishment, or atonement…just like after the Civil War. Are we finally going to deal with all of this shit from the past, or are we going to leave it to fester and rot and poison the country from within yet again? My guess is the latter; it’s what we always do.

Hungary

I don’t feel tired this morning, either. I didn’t want to get up at my usual time, but did and I am not as tired as I worried I’d feel. I am going to make groceries on my way home from work tonight, and I have some things I need to get done. I did spend some time after work yesterday cleaning up the kitchen and even doing the floors, and it was nice coming downstairs to an orderly kitchen this morning. I shaved my head yesterday, too, so am feeling a bit better about how I am presenting to the world today–I hate how gray what little hair I have left is–and I have a sink full of dishes I need to wash tonight after work. But the coffee is kicking in and I am feeling good, so I am going to go head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Given my lifelong affinity for ancient Egypt, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that I became a cat lover.

Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses

Here we are on my first ever (and hopefully last ever) work-at-home Monday. I did used to do work-at-home Mondays, but I didn’t like them very much. I didn’t get up as early as I would have liked to, but …the bed was comfy, the blankets were heavy and warm, and Sparky was being a cuddle-bug. Since I didn’t have to get up early to shower before work, I allowed myself more time in the bed this morning. What can I say? I don’t know why Sparky has become a morning cuddlebug, either–he rarely sleeps in the bed with us; Skittle and Scooter loved the bed and slept there without us all the time, but not Sparky. I do have a lot of work-at-home stuff to get done today, which means fighting with Sparky over my chair (something I also had to do with both of his predecessors)…but there are very worse things.

A lot of worse things, actually. I shudder to check the news this morning. Hmm, I see someone sent out an AI image of himself as Jesus. Remember those ten commandments that the Right wants to post in every classroom and outside of public buildings? I believe the very first one is Thou shalt have no other God before Me. Maybe they want to put them up because they need a constant reminder?

I think I may be on to something here. Sheesh. And yes, I screen shot the blasphemy to keep to share whenever some fucking smug Christian pulls that faith bullshit with me on line.

Yesterday was kind of nice. I slept late, felt relaxed and good, and did get some things done around the apartment. I was also creative for a lot of the day, thinking and taking notes and trying to wrap my mind around a few things. My mind is flooding with creativity again, and was kind of all over the map the last few days so much that I didn’t even remotely try to contain it and just let it roam wherever it wanted to go without restraint. I also realized part of my motivational issue with writing right now is because I have so much to work on I feel overwhelmed and paralyzed at the daunting chore ahead of me. But…that isn’t helpful and only increases the feeling of being overwhelmed, so I need to start putting one foot in front of the other and getting things done. So…list and prioritize, get organized and stop just floating from day to day with no plan. I was going to get the mail and maybe some groceries today after my work at home duties, but I can also do that on my way home from the office tomorrow. It was a gorgeous day yesterday, and it looks like another one today–this truly is the best part of the year in New Orleans, when everything is blooming and the air smells lush and sweet and redolent with sweet olive, jasmine, magnolia and honeysuckle. I’ve yet to see a stinging caterpillar, and the return of the termites is just around the corner.

I’ve also kind of reached that same point about the world and the country as I have with the writing; all I do now is just laugh at the insanity and think about how apropos that we’re dancing so close to the abyss because everything is fucking stupid. Yes, I think I may have snapped. I mean, we have the First Lady throwing her husband under the Epstein bus and bringing it back to the forefront again, the disaster of the war and the explosion of inflation because of it–I don’t even want to think about gas prices; another reason I don’t want to leave the house today–but at least there was a bright spot in Hungary as the people there voted out right-wing extremism in a landslide; another slap in the face to MAGA as the world recognizes the scourge of fascism and rejects it yet again. Hey Americans–you have an opportunity to do the same and purge these anti-American traitors this fall. Maybe we can even get the world to start forgiving us for our arrogance and stupidity.

I started a reread of Listen for the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney yesterday on my iPad, and the Gothic-tropes were just radiating off the pages as I made it through the first chapter. I originally read this shortly after Victoria Holt’s The Secret Woman and Mary Stewart’s The Ivy Tree, which put me all in on romantic suspense for the next two decades. Gothics/domestic suspense were about women’s fears; and what could be more hardboiled than thinking the man you love might be trying to kill you? This was my first Whitney novel for adults after reading many of her juvenile mysteries; it had everything I could possibly want: a fading movie star, a decades-old unsolved murder mystery, and some histrionic family melodrama. Leigh Hollins is a professional young woman with emotional issues, so she wasn’t an heiress; her father was a best selling novelist so she had some privilege; she’s in her early twenties. And then it’s off to Norway; more on this later obviously once the reread is complete.

The next Scotty is going to be a sort of Mardi Gras mystery, even though I’ve already done one, and am still working out how to include and interweave all the things I want to include and its going to include some callbacks to the series history, methinks, which will make it more fun for me to write.

I also completed my rewatch of The Traitors fourth American season, and am digesting my thoughts to write about my latest obsession.

And on that note, tis another cup of coffee for me and into the spice mines for the day. Have a great Monday, everyone, and I will be back tomorrow morning bright and early.

Beautiful physique model Dick DuBois from the 1950s and the “fitness” magazines—which would also be an interesting setting for a queer noir.