Tag: Macbook Air

Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You?

I really hate working on my MacBook Air. I mean, I guess it’s okay but it’s really difficult for me to get used to, you know? I really love the bigger screen of my desktop computer–but then, maybe that will change when my new glasses come in–if they ever come in; they were due to come in this week, in fact. Heavy heaving sigh. I’ll end up having to go out to Metairie to pick them up next Saturday, most likely. Yay. It’s always such a joy for me to head to Metairie for any reason.

Heavy heaving sigh.

Well, it’s Friday and I’m in Florida (not as lyrically magical as “Friday I’m in Love,” but this is why I am not a songwriter). I did my reading at Noir at the Bar last night, and yes, I did read from Chlorine, and it went over very well, I think. People seemed to be appreciative of it, or at least very kind, at any rate. The other readers were all fantastic–JD Allen, Tracy Clark, John Copenhaver, Jeffrey Deaver (!!!!), Tori Eldridge, and Alan Orloff. I was quite intimidated when. I got up there as everyone was killing it, but I surprisingly didn’t have my usual stage fright and nerves beforehand, and much to my surprise as I was reading, my hands weren’t shaking and I couldn’t hear my voice shaking either. I did have the big adrenaline crash afterwards, of course–that will never change, methinks–but it was kind of lovely not having my usual stage fright jitters before hand; I think that may have been because I was sitting and chatting with friends before hand? Anyway, it turned out to be a much more pleasant experience than usual, and I can check “Noir at the Bar” off my bucket list.

I have a panel later on today, which should be fun, about point of view; and then I have two back to back tomorrow afternoon. I slept okay last night–more restful physically than actual deep rest, which was odd, given how long I had been up but then again, strange bed and a lot of stimulation during the day. It happens, I suppose. I just figured I would zonk out after getting up so damned early yesterday and flying and everything. Ah, well. Maybe tonight? One can hope.

So I am going to just take it easy this morning, methinks. I will have to go foraging for coffee at some point–they have some in the room, but…yeah, not the greatest and only one cup so a-foraging I will go. I know they had free coffee in the bookshop this morning but I missed that by lounging in bed much too long and now writing this, but I want to be able to be chill and witty on my panel later this afternoon. It’s really nice to come to these kinds of things; it’s always lovely being around people who love books as well as people who also write; we all have that struggle in common–that weird love/hate thing, not to mention the total insanity of publishing and how the business works which we are all trying to figure out somehow even though there really is no way to figure it all out. It’s also nice being inside a conference bubble for a weekend, where I can pretend that nothing is going on in the world outside and everything else is great and hunky dory and I can put off dealing with reality until I go home Sunday.

Ugh, reality. Not my favorite.

Okay, Constant Reader, it’s time for me to go forage for coffee. I’ll probably come back up here and write for a while before it’s time for my panel. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader–I’ll be back to annoy you again tomorrow.

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

Sunday morning, and I slept well for the first time in a few days, so I am not tired and bitchy this morning (yet). I retrieved my computer from the Apple Store yesterday morning at the ungodly hour of six a.m., brought it home, and started to setting up process, which is still not completed; as I was setting it up it asked me if I wanted to transfer my information from another computer, and I only had three options: from a PC, from a back-up, or from a laptop or a former Mac computer. I was hesitant to do this, because I suspected that the iCloud would make it take forever–I have a lot stored in the Cloud–and sure enough, this morning it is still “transferring my information.” Had I only had a lightning cable to connect them together it would have gone much faster, per information I looked up at Apple Support–but I am not going to drive back out to the Apple Store in Metairie yet again to buy one to speed up the process. I know when I fixed the issues with my MacBook Air it took DAYS for the Cloud to sync with it; at the rate this is going I will have my desktop functional by the time I return from Kentucky on Monday.

Heavy sigh. But I am really looking to eventually having a functional desktop computer again, which hopefully will be the end result of this entire process. I have been tempted several times to stop the file transfer, but I distinctly remember not having that choice to manually set it up (I have always done it manually before, so would have chosen that option were it given me) so cancelling will just result in starting the process all over again, and since it’s already been nearly twenty-four hours–and they did tell me there was nothing wrong with my computer–I guess I am simply going to have to grin and bear it…even though my laptop and my desktop have now been tied up with this process for nearly an entire day. Fortunately, I have my work laptop and my phone and my iPad…which I prefer not to use for things like answering emails and so forth, but I really don’t have much of a choice at the moment and am really glad that I have those options, even if they aren’t my preference.

I was also exhausted yesterday; I don’t know why I was so much more tired yesterday than usual, other than two consecutive days of no sleep. I am out of the medication I generally take to sleep (I took the last one last night) and although I called my doctor the other day to get it refilled again, he either chose not to or hasn’t yet; I’ll have to call again tomorrow which is really annoying to get a definitive answer. I suspect–since he’s a new doctor I haven’t seen yet (I’ve been through so many doctors at the practice I go to for primary care over the last few years it is completely insane)–that he isn’t willing to call in another refill until such time as he has actually seen me–and that appointment is in JULY. So, I guess I can look forward to almost a month and a half of no sleep? But I suppose going cold turkey on alprazolam for six weeks might not be a bad idea–although what that means for my mood swings and my temper is a frightening thought.

But I did manage to get some things done; I dropped off two boxes of books and a box of DVD’s at the library sale; dumped three bags of throws off for ARC of New Orleans; picked up the mail and made groceries. I didn’t get as much done at home as I would have liked (see: exhaustion) but I did manage to hang the other laundry room door by myself, do a load of dishes and laundry (not together, but certainly at the same time). I tried to read but was too tired to focus, so I spent most of my time scribbling in my journal and reorganizing my desk and the kitchen since putting the desktop back required a complete reshuffling of everything in the workspace.

We finished watching Halston last night. I greatly enjoyed it, even if the ending was a little flat–but as I also realized, the thing about biographical based entertainment is that life never winds up being tied up in a nice little bow nor does it follow a compelling narrative arc. It was, I thought, very well done, and Ewan MacGregor was terrific in the lead role. I also welcomed that the show didn’t shy away from Halston’s sexuality, drug abuse, and the seamier side of his life; ten years ago they either wouldn’t have made the show or all the gay stuff would have been neatly excised from the story. Despite my many and frequent problems with Ryan Murphy as a storyteller/show runner, he has been at the forefront of putting queer stories, characters, and narratives into the mainstream–going back to Glee, and he has consistently provided work for out actors in his productions, and this content never feels forced or exploitative. I am going to have to sit down and binge Pose at some point; I’ve avoided it simply because, well, reminders of those days in the HIV epidemic was too painful for me to watch. But since I’ve now watched It’s a Sin, and if I could survive that–emotionally bruising and triggering as it was–I can survive Pose, and I’ve always been fascinated by the ballroom culture of New York in that period.

So this morning I am going to fold some laundry, put the dishes away, and work on straightening things up around here a bit more. I am going to head to the gym this afternoon, and maybe–just maybe–I’ll be able to get some writing done this afternoon. I did manage to get the first five chapters of Chlorine outlined this past week, so maybe I can revise the first chapter I’ve already written (last year, or the year before; time flies and has no meaning for me anymore) and do some more brainstorming in my journal. I am feeling a bit more excited about writing than I have in a while; Friday was one of those horrible I should just throw in the towel and be done with it days, but I am going to blame that on the lack of alprazolam and mood swings and being tired. I am going to start packing for my trip today–I leave early on Thursday morning, and since I have to go to work early the next three mornings packing will be a bit of an ordeal in the evenings; I am having dinner with a friend on Tuesday night, so I will have to go to the gym on Wednesday night and that won’t exactly put me in the mood to pack that night, plus I have to get some food for Paul while I’m gone at some point–although the air fryer has made me less worried on THAT score; he can use that and the microwave, and there’s plenty of things already in the freezer he can air fry for himself (which he is already doing, so I don’t have to cook for him anymore and THANK YOU air fryer, thank you).

And on that note, tis back to the spice mines with me. May you have a wonderful Sunday, Constant Reader.

Truth

Friday! I am up ridiculously early on what would ordinarily be a work-at-home day, but I actually have taken a personal day today because I have to take my desktop to the Apple Store in Metairie at nine this morning. Yes, I finally broke down and decided to see if there’s anything that can be done with it. Last week, I had to take Paul out there to buy a cord for his phone (and a remote for the Apple TV, since somehow ours disappeared) and I asked them about loading an operating system into it; the guy said they’d do it for free, so I made the appointment. I don’t entirely trust Apple, though, so I am expecting that it either will cost me money, or they’ll tell me the computer is irreparable or something. Heavy sigh, it’s always something, isn’t it?

I couldn’t sleep last night–par for the course, really, anymore–and so at six this morning I just gave up and got up. I am going to try to swill down enough coffee to make me lucid before having to drive out there. I’m going to also see if I can buy replacement watchbands–I have two watches with broken bands–while I am at the mall, even though the rest of the mall doesn’t open until eleven. I am taking a book with me, and of course will have my phone, as I plan to simply wait there at the mall until my computer is ready. If it’s going to take more than a few hours, I *may* drive home and then go back out there again; I don’t know. I guess I will see what they say when I check the computer in…I know when Wendy and I went to the Apple Store in Tampa during Bouchercon several years ago to get her phone repaired, they said it wouldn’t take more than an hour but we were there for hours, waiting–so these things generally, inevitably, always take longer than they say.

I have other errands I am going to do today; I had two other appointments–doctor and eye doctor–but in an odd weird coincidence, both were cancelled yesterday afternoon…a pain in the ass, to be sure, but what can I do? I was trying to be efficient and do everything I need to do in Metairie on the same day, but it was, alas, not to be.

We got caught up on Mare of Easttown last night, and started watching a documentary about the opioid epidemic on HBO MAX, The Crime of the Century, which was very well done and really horrifying to watch–it’s just another example of how fucked up this country is, and what an enormously flawed system capitalism actually is; when there is no legal accountability for a pharmaceutical company for addicting millions of Americans deliberately, and elected officials and doctors are complicit, what hope does anyone have for justice? Addiction has always terrified me–I have had mental addictions before, but thank God no physical cravings for anything–and it’s one of the many reasons I try to be careful with my alprazolam prescription; I am out and cannot have it refilled again until July–so hold on to your hats as my moods are going to start swinging and my anxiety is going to get out of control again, yippee! But it’s probably best that I go cold turkey on it for a couple of months…anyway, back to the opioids. I never really quite understood the connection between oxycontin and heroin before; why people who became addicted to an opioid would then go to heroin; I knew it happened, but never completely made the connection that, for all intents and purposes, oxycontin was simply a legal, pure form of stronger heroin. I myself have been prescribed oxycontin before–for pain–but I also have always had a high tolerance for pain and so never needed to use every pill prescribed; being able to take a couple to get through the intense pain and then handling it on my own after that without taking anything. I can certainly see how one can become addicted to it–it’s lovely to not have pain, after all, and you also never realize how many aches and pains you deal with on a daily basis (and think nothing of) until you take something that makes all of that go away. For people who have chronic pain, this is the choice they are given: live in pain or become a drug addict, and possibly die from an overdose.

Addiction is yet another big subject I’ve never tackled in my own fiction; I was always very careful to make certain I didn’t give in to the incredibly easy trope of the alcoholic (or hard drinking) private eye–there are very few who manage to do it well, make it fresh, have something new to say about it. J. M. Redmann’s Micky Knight series is one where it works; Micky’s fondness for whiskey (particularly fine Scotch) never really crosses the line into an alcoholism trope; I have written about drinking too much and having a hangover and having to deal with reality while suffering from the after-effects of binge drinking; that is something I am familiar enough with to write about, although I always fear I have gone to that well far too often. I often question myself too much, I think, about my work, and in addition to my frequent imposter syndrome, I always am worried that I am repeating myself in my work; something that becomes all too easy the older I get and the more I have written and the more my memory declines.

As my body continues to break down and decay as it ages, that’s part of the reason I am hopeful my desktop computer can be easily be repaired and made usable again; I need the big screen to view and work on. I have tried, for the longest time, to get used to using the small screen of my laptop and be able to work on it–I really have no choice, but it has made me feel incredibly disconnected from my work and like I am not working the way I should be, and my lack of productivity over the past few years has been directly connected to having to work on this MacBook Air. I have already decided if the computer is irreparable, I am going to probably go ahead and use my tax refund to buy a new desktop; it is a tax deduction, inevitably, even if I don’t want to spend the money, it is a necessary work tool. I don’t fool myself into thinking it will actually solve my productivity issues, by any means, but it will help–and once I’ve spent the money, I think I can make myself do the work if for no other reason than for the fact that I spent all that money.

Sigh. It also just occurred to me that the computer may not even get worked on today; they might just be checking it in and at some point it’ll be ready over the weekend or next week….

On that cheery thought, I need to get in the shower and ready to head for Metairie. May your Friday be lovely and marvelous, Constant Reader.

60 Miles an Hour

So yesterday I was a guest at Chicks on the Case blog, which was a lot of fun. I was invited to guest post by the delightful Ellen Byron, an accomplished mystery writer who writes a wonderful Louisiana Cajun country-based series beginning with Plantation Shudders, and also writes as Maria DiRico, who writes the catering hall mystery series. (you can read more about her, and order her books by clicking here!) I’ve not done the guest blog thing in a while, and it was quite fun. I tackled one of the weirder parts of my writing process–how I have to always start with a title, whether it is the final title or not–and was pleased to find out, based on the comments, that it’s not as strange as I had originally been led to believe! Yay, me!

Go Greg, go Greg, go Greg!

I am desperately trying to get my short story done; it’s due tomorrow, and writing it has been a real chore recently. I think my creativity feels like a worn out, dried out old husk right now–probably the push to finish the book, which I am still not sure is completely finished–and so have been forcing myself to have to write it. It’s not a bad story, by any means, it’s just been so damned hard to finish it I don’t know what to do with myself. But while today is a Greg-maintenance day–doctors appointments and so forth-I am hoping to get it finished today so I can polish it tomorrow and get it turned in and out of the way. I am daunted by how much work I also must get done this weekend–truly daunted and terrified–but there’s nothing to do but put my nose to the grindstone and start plugging away. The Lost Apartment is also a disaster area–I’ve somehow managed to keep the kitchen under control for once this week, so it’s mostly the living room that is the tragic mess–so I’d like to get the living room under control this weekend as well. I am going to try to repair my old desktop computer–the things they had me do to the laptop to try to make it functional should also work on the desktop, so keep your fingers crossed for me; it would be lovely to have an actual functional desktop computer here rather than having to keep fucking around with this piece of shit MacBook Air–but I am also not going to waste a lot of time on it. Either it works or it doesn’t, and if this fix doesn’t work I’ll have to figure out a way to dispose of it and get it out of the living room once and for all. There’s just so damned much clutter in the living room–and believe me, the more annoyed I become with the clutter, the less attached I remain to the stacks and piles of books. (If it weren’t for the damned coronavirus, I would have been able to get rid of many of these already; I don’t simply want to throw them away. I have a library book to pick up today as well, so when I call them to have them finish the check-out process and put the book outside on the gallery, I will ask them about how to donate books to them…because this shall not stand)

I also need to get back to reading rather then spending my evening streaming either CNN or MSNBC. The events of the past week have been historical, watching history unfold, and I felt an obligation–still do–as an American citizen to watch and stay informed of what is going on in the country. There’s an inevitable feeling to all of this, really–I always suspected in my heart of hearts (while hoping desperately to be wrong) that it would come to something like this, and as a long time citizen who actually believes, has always believed, and will continue to believe, that the ideals behind the founding of this country are something to always strive for, even if we have all too frequently, as flawed humans, failed to get there and always fallen short. Nowhere and at no time since the Civil War has the union and the Constitution been so threatened; and we remain very lucky we didn’t watch the wholesale slaughter of Congressional Democrats and the vice-president in real time.

And so many of this vile mob of seditious treasonous traitorous insurrectionists only have regrets because they are being arrested and losing their jobs. White supremacy is a potent and addictive a drug as heroin or meth, clearly.

But as I have said before, the world doesn’t stop because of events. The planet keeps turning and going around the sun at the same pace as ever; it halts for no man. As difficult as it is to tear one’s self away–the all-too-real fear of missing something horribly important–I must. Today I will get my routine maintenance done, pick up my library book, get the mail, clean and write my story. Tomorrow I will work at home making condom packs and trying to get back on top of all of my responsibilities, my emails, my writing, my career–and I also want to watch some more cynical 70’s movies while I make my condom packs. (Probably Saturday Night Fever and maybe Play Misty for Me) I also am hoping Paul and I can settle in for some more Bridgerton–we’re only two episodes in–and I also want to get some reading done; I want to tear through the first Mary Russell novel by Laurie R. King, and I have some e-galleys from two terrific authors (Hilary Davidson and Alison Gaylin) I can’t wait to dive into, as well as getting back to the Short Story Project, and also to get back into the swing of going to the gym again.

And with that, I need to start getting ready for my first appointment. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader! I certainly intend to.

You Are In Love

Wednesday, and technically the last day of my vacation; even though tomorrow I am working from home before a three day weekend–so at least tomorrow I won’t have to leave the house, other than getting my first COVID-19 vaccination, with another to come 28 days later. That’s a good reason to leave the house, frankly–I can’t think of a better one, to be honest. I’m incredibly lucky to have not gotten it already, frankly–still not entirely convinced I didn’t have it back when I was sick last spring, but the test was negative. I will continue to wear a mask whenever I am out in public–don’t want to set a bad example–and besides, as I have noted before, I haven’t even caught a cold this winter thus far; and that’s a rarity and clearly a benefit of the mask. I may wear one during cold-and-flu season from now on.

Yesterday was an utter waste of time, thanks again to Apple Support. I wanted to print out the latest chapters I’d finished and reread them before I moved on to yesterday’s writing–but when I tried to open one of the files from the Cloud my piece of shit MacBook Air told me that Word was “damaged” and thus couldn’t be opened. I had to delete it from my computer and then re-download it…and guess what? NOT ENOUGH FUCKING STORAGE AGAIN. Um, it was JUST on my computer, but now there’s no room for it? So yes, I spent the entire afternoon fucking with Apple support; eventually having to take my computer back to factory settings and start it over like it was brand new. Hurray! I could download Word again! But the Cloud? Ha ha ha ha! Oh, how cute you are to think that this would help my computer to function. Just like when I bought it, I could not access the Cloud through my Finder window–I mean, I could, but the Finder window kept telling me THERE WAS NOTHING STORED THERE. I even manually went to the iCloud website to sign in–yep, there it all was. So back to working with Apple support. After forty-five minutes of waiting for “Iselda” or whatever the fuck her name was to figure out how to fix it….to no avail, and often telling me to try things I already had done, etc–she had the nerve to say, “Well, maybe it’s still syncing and everything will show up later.” Yeah, thanks for nothing, you incompetent bitch. So, looks like I’ll be taking the piece of shit to the Apple Store in Metairie.

I really do NOT understand why this has to be so hard, you know?

Yeah, I’m bitter. You would be, too. Now I have to try to play catch up.

But I did stop by the library yesterday to pick up Unveiling the Muse: The Lost History of Gay Carnival in New Orleans by Howard Philips Smith, and wow! It must weigh five to ten pounds; it’s enormous. I may have to eventually get my own copy, simply because as a resource it is simply too good to not always have on hand. It has all the histories of the gay krewes and balls, pictures going back decades–and details about gay clubs and not-gay-clubs that gays hung out in; and so many pictures! It was also fun seeing people I know (or knew) pictured within its pages. I really wish I had kept a better diary/journal back in the days when we first moved here; so many friends and acquaintances have come and gone since then. Looking through the book was quite a lovely trip down Memory Lane for me–remembering people I’ve not seen or thought about in years, some of whom I simply knew from the bars and who knew? Some of them were major players in the queer rights movement here in New Orleans. This book is definitely going to come in handy for me with writing fiction about the gay New Orleans past.

It looks like it’s going to be another beautiful day here in New Orleans. I am going to be going to the gym later this morning, and then I am taking Paul to work–we’re stopping at Office Depot to get supplies for his office, and I need paper and an ink cartridge for my printer–and he has a book for me at his office, and then it’s back home to desperately try to get caught up on the book. Gah, yesterday was so damned frustrating.

I was also thinking back over the year (not as effective as one might think, as my memory has really declined over the last few years), trying to remember things that gave me pleasure in 2020. There was an awful lot of good television programs we watched, and of course I have enjoyed the Cynical 70’s Film Festival, which will be rolling over into the new year. I know I read some wonderful books over the course of the year–and I also reread some that I greatly enjoyed and seemed new to me. I also recall reading a lot of pandemic literature in the early days of the shutdown; histories of the Black Death and the Spanish flu, short stories and novels about epidemics…I finally got around to reading Poe’s “Masque of the Red Death”, along with a reread of Katherine Anne Porter’s “Pale Horse Pale Rider,” but I don’t think I got around to Richard Matheson’s classic I Am Legend…but really should have. I also didn’t reread Stephen King’s The Stand, but once I get my own writing needs under control around here, maybe I’ll give the abridged, originally published version a go.

I know I also started writing a pandemic story that I never managed to finish: “The Flagellants,” and finishing it is at the top of my list of things to get done once this book is finished. I kind of also have to go directly into the next book, without much of a break between, but once it is finished on March 1 and turned in, I’ll have some breathing space for a moment or two before I need to get going on Chlorine. I’d really like to have a good working first draft of Chlorine finished by May 1. My main characters is starting to come to me in bits and pieces–he served in the Navy, he escaped Kansas into the Navy when he was eighteen; he comes to Hollywood after he musters out to become a movie star, which is when he meets his “starmaker” agent, and while he is very good-looking and charismatic…he’s not especially talented as an actor, and so gets some supporting roles in A-list movies and leads in B-list movies, but his”star” never really takes off. His agent is of course inspired by Henry Willson; and the plot of the book revolves around blackmail, murder, and survival.

And on that note, I should get back into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader.

Blank Space

Well, hello, Wednesday, good morning and how are you? October 21st, can you believe it? Only ten days left before Halloween, and then it’s November and Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s and oh my oh my oh my.

I’m frankly terrified about what fresh horrors 2021 might have in wait for us. I keep remembering how happy everyone was to say goodbye to 2019…and how that turned out. *shudders in terror*

For someone who actually prides himself on being highly organized and efficient, I have to say I am constantly disappointed in myself as I explore my iCloud drive. You see, the MacBook Air doesn’t have any USB ports (fuck off, Apple) and until I get my adapter, I cannot use my backup hard drive, which is where I usually keep everything–and it’s slightly better organized than the iCloud, which is where I used to just throw things as a scattered back-up in case something went wrong with the back-up hard drive. I also wasn’t able to back up the back-up hard drive to the Cloud for a while because of course, my desktop computer wasn’t functioning properly and it would have taken forever (not to mention all the Finder crashes that would have ensued). The good news is I finally ordered the damned adapter, so hopefully will be able to access it again soon. ANYWAY, I have been having to use iCloud and am literally almost always finding every folder to be a disorganized mess, and sometimes with any number of duplicates of the same digital file, which can be a little annoying…so I am trying to get it all straightened out so it’s usable (if the back-up hard drive, for some reason, is unable to be read by the Macbook Air, which will quite literally make me homicidal, but that’s been my luck lately with electronics), and I just opened another folder last night in order to store some files and sighed….because it was yet again another folder with no fucking organization or rhyme or reason to it.

Heavy heaving sigh.

But I’m also getting more and more resigned to the idea that every time I open a folder in the drive, it’s going to be a mess that will–either then, or at some point–need attention. And if I go ahead and take care of it at the time I notice it…well, the closer I get to having it all done.

Last night I continued to play around with the opening of French Quarter Flambeaux. It’s more of an intellectual exercise at this point, and it’s some kind of writing, though my absolute reluctance to work on any of the things I need to be working on has been duly noted. These prologues to the Scotty books–which really began as an homage to Sue Grafton’s “letters from Kinsey” which she used to both introduce and wrap up her novels–and then developed into something a little more fun (parodying the opening of a famous book) are my way of telling the backstory so the story can begin on page one of Chapter One. I do get a bit tired of explaining the entire family backstory, and how he came to be named Milton Bradley–how many clever and original ways can you tell you that story, after all–and as I was thinking about it last night, as well as writing it–I thought, you know, you should check and see how you did it on your last one and rather than getting up to go get a copy of the book, I simply looked it up on the Evil Empire and then “looked inside this book”. Bearing in mind the fact that I never look myself up on amazon nor do I click on the reviews nor do I even glance at the “star” ratings…I was surprised and delighted to notice that the star average was 4.8, which rounds up to 5, and that there were fifteen reviews. This was enormously lovely, and a very pleasant surprise–I think my books generally average at somewhere between 3 and 4 stars–but on the other hand, I was really pleased with how that book turned out, and I worked very hard on it.

It didn’t, however, inspire me to want to go look at the ratings of any of the others, though. I’m not completely insane, after all, and I learned long ago that Amazon and Goodreads were not places for authors to go check on their books. That is, without doubt, one of the fastest trips to the mental hospital one can imagine.

I do need to get back into the writing groove, and I also need to figure out a schedule of sorts. We’re going to be joining a gym this weekend–I think it’s called Franco’s, over on Magazine Street and a slightly longer walk than St Charles Athletic Club, which was just around the corner–so I am going to need to figure out when and how I am going to go do my workouts. It is absolutely going to feel marvelous working out again, without a doubt–I want to stretch regularly, work my muscles with weights, maybe even do some cardio classes–and one of my goals for 2021 is going to be to try to slim down some before I turned sixty. Not like I’m terribly overweight right now or anything; but ten pounds or so, or getting down to about 200, is a great goal to begin with at any rate. I need to rethink my diet anyway–bad cholesterol is too high, and I don’t have the best genetic inheritance from my parents (thanks guys!)–but it will feel really good to get back to lifting weights and working out again. My doctor also recommended that I go on the Mediterranean diet…which I am going to start trying. I bought a cookbook for it, and since I love cooking, well, it’s time to give it a try.

We think we are going to rewatch The Mandalorian as well before the new season drops on Halloween.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines for my third clinic day of the week. Y’all have a lovely day, okay?

Soon You’ll Get Better

It’s been so long since there’s been a good day, seriously, I’d forgotten how satisfying one could be. And it really takes so little for a day to be a good one, it’s almost sad.

Forget it, Jake–it’s 2020.

But yes, yesterday was a lovely day. Thursday night I discovered that I was actually incorrect; Scooter’s follow-up appointment was yesterday rather than this morning, so I took a personal day yesterday and we took care of everything yesterday rather than today. Scooter is doing very well–if he progresses at the rate he has been, in two weeks (they want to see him again) he may be able to come off the insulin, which is wonderful–although the shots don’t even phase me now–and after that we went to Costco for Paul to order glasses. I have to say, I was incredibly impressed with the service at Costco, as was Paul. I highly recommend getting your optical needs handled there–that’s where I’m going to get my next pair of glasses. Paul wound up getting two pairs for less than what he paid for his last pair–and the new frames look much better and are much more flattering than his last ones, too. I did a little bit of shopping there–taking care of our bacon, hamburger, shrimp and dark chocolate sea salt caramel candy needs–and then it was back home to the Lost Apartment. Since the day was going so well (and part of it was Paul and I actually spending time together–which we really haven’t done very much of lately; we really always manage to have fun no matter what we are doing, and I’ve really missed that) I decided not to engage with social media or the Internet, and spent the day organizing and cleaning and doing laundry and dishes and all sorts of things like that around the house–trying to eliminate clutter and so forth–and then last night we binged a wonderful Spanish mini-series, Someone Has to Die before retiring to bed for the evening.

Overall, it was an absolutely lovely, relaxing day, and one we were both desperately in need of–it almost felt like the before times, you know?

It’s only sixty-five degrees outside right now, and the low for today is 58 with a high of 75–and yes, I’ve turned into one of those old people who talk about the weather and check it all the time.

This past week was stressful; one of my parents had a health issue for most of the week. It still isn’t completely resolved–a procedure is necessary, but it’s also one Mom has had before, so it’s not quite as stressful as it was at the beginning of the week, when she was admitted to the hospital and we were told the worst case scenarios–that was one of those times when I was glad I have a day job; dealing with my clients forced me to stop worrying and focus on something else–but it has been weighing heavy on my mind this week. My parents aren’t much older than I am really; I am fifty nine and they both turned seventy-eight last weekend, so while I am sure reminders of parental mortality aren’t good for anyone, such reminders also serve to remind me that I’m not exactly young myself anymore.

Today there’s no LSU game, and while I was thinking I’d probably skip college football entirely today, Georgia and Alabama are also playing tonight, and since they are the only two undefeated teams left in the conference, I’ll probably have the game on while I sit in my easy chair and reread Bury Me in Shadows. Since it’s a night game, that also gives me the entire day today to run the errands I need to run (mail and making groceries) and then I can spend some time working this afternoon before settling in to watch the game.

I still have to proof a story, revise another, and I just got the second round of edits on my essay (along with an apologetic note from the editor for being so brutal), so those things have to also be addressed at some point this weekend; I think I am going to proof the one story, than go through a print out of the one that needs revision and deal with that today; then read the manuscript so I can get back into it, and then tomorrow I’ll face the essay and possibly a chapter or two of revisions on Bury Me in Shadows.

I also have a lot of volunteer work that I need to get caught up on–heavy heaving sigh; there’s always more work to be done. There’s also still some organizing I need to do, and of course, the laundry room shelves are always in need of some kind of straightening/thinning. I’m slowly but surely purging books again–the clutter around here is very alarming–and of course now that the kitchen is in order, it just makes everything else look that much worse and problematic. But I am starting to feel more centered these days and also like I am going to be able to get a handle on everything. I’ve joked most of the year that I’ve felt like someone spinning plates on sticks on The Ed Sullivan Show to the tune of “The Flight of the Bumblebee”; I don’t necessarily feel like that anymore. It’s easy to get stressed when you’re already behind on things and more things start to pile-up on you; and the stress is self-defeating in that it causes paralysis and the mentality there’s no way I can keep up let alone get ahead let alone get all of this done so why bother trying?

Fear is, indeed, the mindkiller.

Oh! I also ordered the converter USB plug I need for the Air so I can use and access my back-up hard drive and flash drives again. I also discovered that I did go ahead and get the Apple Care for the Air, so I can take it into the store and get some assistance with this “disk is almost full” nonsense I have to constantly deal with, as well as the “no room so I can’t update programs” idiocy. I’d really love to be able to fix the desktop, frankly–I really miss having the massive screen to look at–but it’s also a memory issue, there’s no Apple Care for it, and I’m not so certain it’s worth spending the money on. Decisions, decisions….but taking the Air in to have them look at it and make it more functional is undoubtedly the smart thing to do.

So, my outlook this morning is good and positive, and I feel rested and relaxed and ready to take on the challenges of getting the things done and taken care of that I need to get done and taken care of.

And on that note, Constant Reader, I am back into the fray, at least for the morning, working my way through emails before running the errands and getting into the work I need to get done today. Hope you have a lovely Saturday, and things go well for you.

I Almost Do

The days storms come ashore elsewhere–but still close by– are always weird.

There’s the guilt and shame at the relief that it’s not coming to where you live–which means you are relieved that others will suffer instead of you–and there’s still a lot of tension. While New Orleans will have nowhere near the damage or destruction western Louisiana, and particularly Lake Charles, will suffer yet again a mere six weeks or so after the last time they were hit hard, you never know. We are–or were–supposed to experience only the effects equivalent to a tropical storm, and those aren’t exactly nothing. Will trees come down, will power be lost, will streets flood? Will the high winds cause destructive tornadoes? And while suffering isn’t a contest, even typing those words riddled me with guilt yet again.

The sky has been mostly gray all day, with only occasional glimpses of the sun and blue during all-too-brief breaks in the cloud cover. The wind picks up and drops off–and some of the gusts are extreme. I went into the office for a few hours to help out with the syringe exchange, and both coming and going there were a couple of times when I could feel the wind battering my car, trying to move it–never strong enough to make me nervous, but just enough to be unsettling.

Scooter is currently sleeping on my backpack, next to my desk, and Paul is still upstairs working. I have laundered the bed linens today–it’s Friday, after all–and I currently am in the process of cleaning up my iCloud drive (and finding new frustrations with the MacBook Air, but it’s not as bad as it could be, and really, once I get the dongle adapter thingamabob to connect the back-up hard drive to to it, it should be fine. And at some point I will take it into the store in Metairie….unless I can still get help on-line for free), which is taking some time, but it has been a mess for quite some time, and therefore I have no one to blame but myself.

We finished watching Utopia this week, which we greatly enjoyed, odd as it was, and last night we started watching The Good Lord Bird on Showtime, which is also odd, weirdly entertaining, and kind of interesting. It’s about John Brown, the abolitionist hero of the 1850’s, and I am never entirely certain whether Ethan Hawke, who’s playing Brown, is giving an incredible performance deserving all the Emmys, or if he is overacting in a manner worthy of Nicolas Cage at his worst. It’s told from the point of view of a young Black slave, freed by Brown in the opening minutes of the first episode, who Brown for some reason becomes convinced is a girl and for another reason (you’d have to watch) starts calling by the name Onion. I’m sure we’ll keep watching–I was always raised to believe that John Brown was a monster, and while he was certainly not the sanest individual, his hatred of slavery was not wrong–and the show is set during the days of bleeding Kansas, which I’ve been thinking a lot about lately (the town in the Kansas book is called Liberty Center, and it’s called that because it was founded as a free town during those days–it’s also a call-out to Philip Roth, because it’s the town where When She Was Good was set), and wanting to write about at some point.

We’ve been holding off on watching The Boys’ second season until all the episodes were loaded (yes, binge-watching has spoiled us; we hate to have to wait) and I do want to go back at some point and finish Penny Dreadful: City of Angels, and I also want to watch The Haunting of Bly House, which just dropped on Netflix (Paul never got into The Haunting of Hill House for some reason), and there’s some other movies and so forth that are streaming now that we want to see (I keep meaning to watch Boys State on Apple Plus–I actually went to Boys State when I was in high school in Kansas, and why I have never written about that I honestly do not know).

But since it’s October and I had forgotten, I decided to start watching some horror this month while making condom packs. I watched Carrie yesterday (still wonderful) and today I watched one from the 1980’s called April Fools’ Day, which I think I watched on HBO or Showtime back in the day. It stars Deborah Coleman from Valley Girl and My Chauffeur (why she never became a bigger star is beyond me), Deborah Goodrich (probably best known for playing the imposter Silver Kane on All My Children), the guy best known for playing Biff in the Back to the Future movies, Tatum O’Neal’s brother Griffin, and a big crush of mine from back then whom I’d forgotten, Ken Olandt (he was also in Summer School, where he played a stripper so of course he caught my eye). It takes the ‘stranded on a desert island’ conceit of And Then There Were None (also similar to the one season favorite Harper’s Island) and plays the trope of the slasher film against it/–but it’s not very gory (back then I had no interest in the genre of slasher films because I didn’t like gore and buckets of blood everywhere, although I made an exception for the Nightmare on Elm Street movies; Paul was the person who got me to watch Halloween and Friday the 13th for the first time). It’s a fun little movie, scary and suspenseful enough, and entertaining enough, but a trifle that didn’t really leave much of an impact on the horror genre or on film in general. I added some more horror movies to my lists on various streaming services–I can give the Cynical 70’s Film Festival a break for a while, I think–and it’s actually amazing to me how many horror classics I either don’t remember, or haven’t seen–Fright Night, for example, and The Fog, for another–and so with so much streaming content, there’s no reason not to finally view these movies, right?

Right.

I’m also going to rewatch Christine, and some other King adaptations I’ve not seen (primarily because I heard they weren’t good).

And on that note, I am going to head into the living room with some wine and maybe watch some highlights of last year’s LSU season until Paul is ready to join me.

Have a lovely and quiet Friday evening, Constant Reader.

La Bamba

So, I’m experimenting with a new look for me: scruffy facial hair. I used to occasionally grow a porn-stache, more out of laziness than anything else, really, but I’ve never done the scruffy look. Primarily this week I was getting up too early on most mornings to take the time to shave–that extra five minutes in bed too alluring–but my co-workers have been complimentary about it, so I decided to see how it goes.

Of course, they could be punking me so I’ll allow myself to look ridiculous than usual, but that’s the risk I am taking.

The interesting thing is that my facial hair is coming in white. The mustache itself is still mostly dark with the occasional stray white hair, but my cheeks and chin are mostly white haired, which is also kind of interesting. I don’t have a problem with having white hair, really; I just don’t like gray and was worried it would come in gray more than anything else. But white scruff is kind of cool, particularly with my dark eyes and olive skin, so we’ll see how it continues to go. I’m sure I’ll get bored with it soon enough and shave it all off anyway.

LSU won yesterday, 66-38, which is an insane score for an LSU game. This new offense, built around our quarterback, Joe Burrow (or Jeaux Breaux, as they call him down here with great affection) is astonishing at how fast and efficient it is. I can’t believe I’m watching LSU sometimes–even with the purple and gold and white uniforms–particularly when they score in one play and in zero seconds (Vanderbilt opened the second halg attempting an onside kick; it was squibbed and picked up by an LSU player who took it down to the one yard line. The ball was snapped and a quick toss to a receiver in the end zone and BAM. Touchdown for LSU, with 14:54 left in the third quarter. Insane.). I am concerned that LSU has given up 38 points, respectively, to both Texas and Vanderbilt–you can’t play that can’t of defense and win consistently in the SEC, and you’re certainly not going to beat Alabama by trying to outscore them, even if that’s worked so far with quality opponents. I enjoyed watching Auburn take down Texas A&M afterwards, and then the evening was capped off with Georgia knocking off Notre Dame. All in all, a pretty good day for football watching, and a lovely and much needed day off from everything. I did nothing–no writing, no emails, no worrying, no nothing–and I have to say the down time was precisely what the doctor ordered. I went to bed after the Georgia game last night, slept well, and was actually awake and out of bed before seven this morning. The goal for today is to finish the laundry, clean the kitchen, and write a short story. I have to get this story finished today, so I can spend the next week or so revising and cleaning it up before it’s due on October 1, but I am certain I can get it done.

I started reading Lisa Lutz’ new novel The Swallows during the LSU game, and while I didn’t get very far into it, it’s quite good and amazing so far, and I love her main character. I am going to take some time this morning to read it as well–probably after I finish the laundry and clean the kitchen, and after I take a shower and get cleaned up.

I’ve also gotten more volunteer work to take care of, none of which I can be public about–ah, the veil of secrecy and subterfuge, how fun is that?–which at some point today I am going to have to work on, if my desktop computer ever decides to be functional (I’m writing this on my Macbook Air, as the spinning wheel of death continues on my desktop. I’ve restarted that fucking piece of shit at least five times this morning–thank you, Mojave update; I may never buy another Apple product again because you love to upgrade systems so that they kill your products and make them completely useless–and it’s better now, but still won’t load my blog webpage). I have, while waiting for the stupid thing to become functional again, spent the morning getting deeply involved in The Swallows. It’s truly a phenomenal book.

I’m also guessing I’ll have to work on the short story on here. If the desktop won’t fucking load a webpage, I can only imagine the reaction it will have if I try to open Word.

Heavy sigh. All right, need to try to get this all figured out.

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Love is Alive

And so am I!

It’s Wednesday morning and it’s also pay day; which means I get to spend a goodly portion of my morning paying bills and watching my paycheck disappear. Huzzah! My desktop computer is currently updating its software–which, ever since the Great Data Disaster of 2018, always gives me a little pause. I do always hold out hope that every time this happens since then that perhaps, just perhaps, this update will fix the problems that I’ve been having with the Mohave operating system since it launched; which is enormously frustrating. It does, however, work beautifully in my Macbook Air, which makes me tend to think the issue is some software conflict within my system–which probably means I need to take the thing back into the store and have it looked at/worked on/possibly repaired…none of which things bode well, I have time or patience for, and could prove to be enormously frustrating in the meantime. But I do have the Air and this HP Stream, so I do have back-up computers just in case.  The Stream is good, but neither as fast, intuitive, or user-friendly as the Air; but it’s a good computer and I would recommend it to anyone looking for an inexpensive laptop.

I told a friend yesterday, and this is how I’ve been feeling, that I finally feel like my life is actually my life again; I’ve been feeling unsettled and not quite right ever since the Great Data Disaster–but the off-kilter actually began before that; the Great Data Disaster simply brought everything to the forefront. I am, as I get older, someone who draws comfort from routine; last October our long-time office on Frenchmen Street closed. I’d been working out of that office since 2005, and before that I volunteered there. The room that housed my actual office had been my office since 2010. We moved in October to our new building on Elysian Fields on the lakeside of Claiborne Avenue, which meant a whole new routine of getting to work and getting home from work. That was, I think, the first step out-of-place in my usual routine; I had to change everything and my weekly schedule of when I pick up the mail, etc. I was just getting adjusted to the changes when I left for Kentucky; then I came back to have to start over adjusting, and then the Great Data Disaster happened right around the holidays…and then came Carnival and the Weekend o’Festivals and the death of my old Air and yeah–it’s no wonder that I’ve felt off for months now.

This week is the first week I feel like me again, and it’s actually quite lovely.

But despite feeling like me again–and feeling like I can get everything done that I want to get done; that I can handle anything and yeah motherfuckers bring it the fuck on, I am a little scattered still this week. I think, actually, that paying the bills this morning might actually help in that regard. For one thing, it’s a short work week as I had Monday off to recover from the weekend and to try to put the house back together after TERMITE ARMAGEDDON; and that has me rather confused every day as to what day of the week it actually is. But I am going to persevere. I am going to make a to-do list and start getting through that. I am going to get back to work on the WIP so I can have a clean, strong first draft in hand by the end of April. I am going to get to all those emails in my inbox that have been reproaching me in silent judgment for weeks now. (Okay some of them have been there for months.) Paul’s home at night now (rather than coming in at midnight or later) and so we can get caught up on the shows we’re watching.

Oh, and the books I thought I’d lost? I found them. They were in a different pocket of my backpack. Seriously. I feel like an idiot–but at least the books were found before  I bought new copies–which would have sucked, utterly.

So, I feel like Gregalicious again, and it’s a terrific feeling.

With that in mind, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a happy Hump Day, Constant Reader!

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