Tag: MAGA

Little Paradise

Tuesday morning and so far, so good. I had no problem getting up and going to work yesterday morning, and I made some groceries on the way home last night. Today I am leaving early from the office to go record Susan Larson’s show for local NPR (YAY! Love Susan!) and later on I am seeing my gastroenterologist for the yearly follow up on the ulcerative colitis, which is why I had so many labs to get drawn over the last few weeks. I don’t think I’ll have to see him again for six months or so; who knows? I guess we’ll see how it goes.

Yesterday wasn’t bad, by any means. I am mostly caught up on my work–always a lovely feeling at the day job–and I got some emails answered; emails always beget emails, alas. I correspond regularly with two friends and my dad, so it’s not like I have a lot to answer anymore these days. (I remember waking up to over 300 new emails in my inbox; something I do not miss the remotest bit.) Now I think back to how busy I used to be and think, I didn’t need to ever be that busy, and it’s true. I didn’t. No regrets though, I worked very hard but I also had a lot of fun. I couldn’t possibly ever be that busy again; maybe, I don’t know, but I also don’t want to find out, either. I like getting up and going to work, not dreading checking my emails, I like writing my blog and my newsletter (it’s right here, if you’re so inclined; it’s about the International Male Catalogue), I like running my errands, and I like having time to rest and recharge whenever I need to. It’s kind of nice, actually. And the primary issue I’ve had with the day job this decade is being tired in the mornings and being exhausted by the end of the day…which doesn’t really seem to be a problem anymore. Physically and mentally I feel better than I have in years; it’s almost like I’d forgotten how that felt.

It had been a hot minute, for real.

After getting home last night, Paul and I watched some more of The Boroughs, after which we watched videos of President Harkonnen1 getting royally booed in New York at the Knicks game–good. The Boroughs is interesting; something different I’ve not seen in horror media before. I like that the cast is all mostly older, and it’s focused on a retirement community–the one from HELL. We’ll finish that tonight after I get home from everything and all the running around I have to do today. Heavy sigh. I need to have some things delivered tonight, too. I really need to get more organized, always a struggle under the best of times and the best of situations. I have a sink full of dishes I need to get into the dishwasher tonight, and of course, the floors always need attention. So does the refrigerator, frankly. I definitely need to just do chores when I get home from my appointment today before I do anything else; definitely something that I need to get done. I also looked over some of the writing I got done over the weekend and simply couldn’t be more pleased, frankly. I really like the work I am doing now, and I don’t know that I’ve ever said or felt that way before?

Thank you, medication.

Apparently, the Mormons are learning what I could have told them all along–Republicans and evangelicals are not your friends no matter how much money you give them or how many times you vote for them. The Catholics are next, of course–although the fact MAGA demands they put their faith in Lord Harkonnen rather than the Pope should have tipped them off. I always knew they were cosplay Christians, but even I didn’t expect them to embrace apostasy and blasphemy so publicly. Where’s the Inquisition when you need it?

Seriously.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a fabulous Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you tomorrow.

It just ain’t the rural south unless there’s a car from the 1950‘s rusting in a field. I actually wrote a short story about one a million years ago; I wonder where that is? They make great story prompts.
  1. A Dune reference, for those who didn’t catch it. Baron Harkonnen is the revolting villain of Dune. ↩︎

Never Wanna Leave You

Thursday morning coming in strong, how are you doing? Yesterday was kind of drab and overcast and rainy, which was terrific–you know I love me some rain–and a huge relief after how thick and awful the humidity was when I left for the office yesterday morning. That also explains the sinus attack I had when I got up–I had to take a Claritin-D, it was so bad–but I could tell by the time I got to the office it was going to rain. I didn’t get any “flood watch” texts or emails, so it wasn’t too bad. We’re supposed to get a lot more rain today and tomorrow, with it clearing up a bit on the weekend. It’s rained a lot here this late spring, and I can’t remember the last time we had such a wet May and June. I love it, of course–I really do want it to rain all day Friday so after I finish my work-at-home chores I can read under a blanket while it storms outside. I did some chores last night when I got home from work, and felt pretty good. Paul and I watched some television–we started Sweetpea, which is delightfully wicked and twisted in a deliciously macabre kind of way–and then it was time for bed.

I feel good this morning, and I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home yesterday, which was most definitely a good thing. I think not only am I getting close to being back to what would be considered normal, health-wise, again for the first time in years but maybe I’m finally getting used to getting up at six in the morning every day, which would be lovely. It’s lovely not to feel tired when I am working with a client, it’s lovely to think oh, I have the energy to get some things done tonight on the way home from work, but i also have to get used to the idea that just because Paul is on the couch watching television doesn’t mean I have to join him, but it’s lovely to have time together just watching our shows or finding new ones. I hate when I am a Festival widow, because there’s nothing I enjoy more than just hanging out with Paul and Sparky while relaxing. (If it’s raining outside? Chef’s kiss! We are getting a lot of rain lately; I’m starting to see social media posts about locals being tired of the rain, so…)

I did write a newsletter that is scheduled to go out today for Pride Month; about the missing queer bookstores and how much I used to love them, and how good they were to me as an author. This was actually inspired by seeing a post on Tampa Bay LGBT History’s Facebook page about Tomes and Treasures, mentioning the guy who owned it, whom I actually met at the store (it was the first gay bookstore I ever entered) and how that store opened up my life to the vastness that was gay fiction and non-fiction, as well as all the other colors of the rainbow). As I am someone who has always learned best by reading (which is why I always sucked at math), books helped me get a better understanding of our history, how much of that is hidden in plain sight (I mean, I knew when reading history books that while they didn’t come right out and say is “oh, this king preferred men”–I knew what the truth of Edward II, Henri III, Frederick the Great, Philippe d’Orleans, and others really was), it was pretty safe to assume any king or emperor or great lord who had male favorites (Henri III’s were called “the mignons”) was actually a queen.

After Tuesday’s elections, I saw one of those “leftist influencers,” (whom I’ve never trusted; for one, he’s a nepo-baby and comes from money) who always gave me a homophobic vibe, dropped the mask entirely, claiming California voters gave into the “homo-fascist agenda” and several other unspeakably vile things–demeaning and degrading an already vilified minority group really isn’t the way to go for a straight white cisgender nepo-baby. It doesn’t take long for their masks to drop, does it? How is this any different from gay men like Keith Edwards who are racists and carrying water for white supremacy and misogyny? (You’re GAY, Keith, they will turn on you once you’ve sold everyone else out.) Well, you can miss me with all of your stans’ excuses and homophobia, Mr. Nepo-Baby. Fuck you. I’m waiting for the girls you date-raped while in your fraternity to come forward–and you know they are there because he’s clearly a pig with a massive ego.

Oh, and Mr. Nepo Baby? You’re not that hot, babe. Bet you’ve got some super-sexy back hair, too.

This is also why I get so angry when I see anyone on the left ready and willing to throw trans people under the bus; because it wasn’t that long ago that the left was willing to throw us ALL under the bus–gay, lesbian, bi, trans etc.

The fact that no one calls it out, ever, is even more sickening and disgusting.

And Nepo-Baby bottom-feeder said this shit during PRIDE MONTH.

Miss me with your excuses and explanations. There is no way that saying “homo-fascist” under ANY circumstance isn’t homophobic.

And I believe people when they show me who they are. Hence my lack of empathy, pity or sympathy for anyone MAGA, or voted MAGA while claiming not to be. You pissed all over my rights to own the libs. Fuck you now, and fuck you forever.

Homophobia will always be unforgivable. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire in front of me; I’d look for things to stoke the fire.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Thursday be awesome and your month homophobia free. I’ll be back tomorrow, see you then!

I would love to go to Carnival in Venice and wear one of these amazing costumes.

If You Think You Know How to Love Me

Somehow, it’s Wednesday again already; a holiday will do that to a week. Yesterday was kind of a nice reintroduction to my work week. It was an easy day at the office, and despite feeling groggy in the morning, I woke up and got things done at the office around my clients. On the way home, I picked up the mail, mailed some books, dropped off another and then made groceries. I wrote for a bit on that story I was rewriting in my journal and I am quite pleased with what I have done thus far. It’s fun again to write, to wrestle with words and images and characters and sentences. It’s nice to remember that I write because I enjoy it; it’s deadlines that turn it into an odious, stressful chore.

Although I do wonder if I need to turn things into odious, stressful chores in order to get them done. Hmmm.

I also managed to send out a new newsletter yesterday, and if you want to read the new newsletter click here. I also wasn’t terribly tired when I got home from work yesterday (hence the productivity); I feel pretty good this morning as well–not even groggy Greggy today. I have a semi-busy day at the office today, but I get to go straight home from work tonight and that will be nice. I need to do a load of laundry and a load of dishes tonight, too. We still don’t know what time Paul’s surgery will be on Friday–they’ll tell him on Thursday–and I don’t know how that day is going to go once I get him home. I worry about his pain management–thank God I have that ice machine!1 It’s kind of ironic that I am again hitting the ground running with writing again, only to have another situation that will need a work-around. Heavy heaving sigh. Here’s hoping the writing continues, regardless of what is going on in my life. But it is nice that I am feeling better and productive again. Even the Achilles tendons have finally stopped again and I can walk normally again, which is also very lovely.

We watched an episode of House of Ashur and Widow’s Bay, both of which are growing on me (I prefer Widow’s Bay; it’s supernatural horror, which is a favorite of mine). I think there’s another episode of Widow’s Bay for tonight, and we may have to begin watching something else tomorrow night, or finish House of Ashur, which is a pale imitation of its predecessors–but there’s so much male skin and full frontal and queer activity and violence the plot is kind of hard to follow. The dialogue seems very stilted, too; I don’t remember it being quite so jarring in the earlier seasons. Maybe at some point I will rewatch the earlier seasons; I do remember Lucy Lawless stealing the show out from under all the sexy barely dressed musclemen. I do love Lucy Lawless.

I’ve also decided to stop blogging about politics. My commentary is not necessary for the discourse; anything I could say has been said better by minds more knowledgeable than mine, and besides, thinking about it is upsetting. I am tired of every day being ruined by the sleaze in Washington and Baton Rouge, and so I am detaching myself to watch from an unemotional distance. Besides, I think I have always been very clear on where I stand politically. I’ve always considered myself an independent progressive, with no ties to any political party unless they are pro-queer equality. Period. And I will never make nice or forgive or welcome blatant homophobes unless they thoroughly recant and work their asses off for queer equality for a minimum of two years. Sane with racists and misogynists, so, no, I won’t be embracing MAGAfugees until I see actual atonement and change.

I feel pretty safe in saying that means I’ll never forgive any of them. Ever.

So don’t ask, unless you want to pull back a nub.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope your day is easy or whatever you want it to be, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning again.

Muscular man leaning against a pole.
Those legs!!!! Although I can’t help but wonder why he was playing basketball barefoot in what looks like abandoned public housing.
  1. As a public service, I’ve decided to share the company’s website. They aren’t inexpensive (insurance paid for mine, they won’t for Paul), but they are so worth it: click here. ↩︎

We Live for Love

Tuesday and it’s back to the office with me today. It was a marvelously relaxing holiday weekend, and I was pleased to read some more, and have ideas and work on writing, even if it was mostly scribbling in my journal. I don’t have a problem with any of it, and yes, I know I should be a little bit more concerned that I didn’t apply fingers to keyboard more than I did this weekend, but fuck it. I get to have free time and get to have down time, don’t I? And if i don’t, that’s not a life I want to live, thank you very much. It rained all day again yesterday, along with a lovely early afternoon thunderstorm. I put on season three of The Traitors for background noise and started reading and thinking and writing again, like I had done on Sunday afternoon. At some point I’ll need to funnel that energy and thought into writing on the keyboard. I also spent some time in the morning diving into the morass that is the news, which was cheery on the Ukraine front but not so much anywhere else. Ah, well.

And so it goes, I guess. The reality is the country has been on the decline for decades, but MAGA certainly accelerated the rush to the inevitable collapse. Who knows what will rise from the ashes? Will it be better or worse? I probably won’t be here to see it, and yes, I am very concerned about the midterms. I won’t alarm anyone with my usual pessimistic forecasts, because sadly I am proven right more often than not. It’s also no fun being Cassandra and not being listened to, either. I always thought she was the most tragic character in the entire story of the Trojan War, and have always wanted to write from her perspective. It would be an interesting exercise—a woman who can see the future but isn’t believed which drives her deeper and deeper into madness which makes each prophecy harder to believe? That is a particular kind of hell, isn’t it?

I wish Madeline Miller would make that her next novel.

It also dawned on me over the course of the weekend that May is almost finished, which means it will be JUNE soon…which is PRIDE MONTH. Should I be that old queen and be gauche, cliché and stereotypical and turn my newsletter into queer stuff all month? Of course, you already know the answer to that, don’t you? And yes, the answer is always yes. I think it’s important, and if queer content bothers the subscribers they wouldn’t be there in the first place. No one is making anyone read it, either. So, bearing Pride rolling up so quickly, I took that into consideration for my next reads, tabling what I had already had on deck, and switching it up a bit. My new-to-me read will be All of Us Murderers, which ticks off several boxes for me in addition to its being a queer read: it’s also a historical Gothic romance; it’s written by a cisgender-identified woman; and it’s also a crime novel. These are all things I want to talk about more in my newsletter, so I can touch on them during the newsletter about this book. I’ve also set aside The Ivy Tree as my next reread for A Queer Kind of Death by George Baxt, which I read decades ago and have an eye to see how it holds up. It’s also historic and was originally published in the 1960s, with a Black gay main character written by a gay white man…which should also prove interesting to revisit and talk about.

I feel good this morning, rested and relaxed and in a decent mood. I did do some writing–by hand–yesterday–in my journal, in which I reworked and rewrote the opening to an in-progress short story. Of course it isn’t one that fits any submissions call I have found recently, which is par for the course, but now that I am in such a period of low productivity I’ve pretty much decided that whatever pops into my head is what I should work on, rather than trying to force something that doesn’t want to be forced, which makes the most sense to me at the moment. My Achilles tendons don’t feel tight anymore, either, which is the biggest win to me of the weekend.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

The famous bust of Queen Nefertiti, whose name meant “the beautiful one has come.” And yes, it’s in a Berlin museum, and yes, the Germans need to return it because it’s loot.

Country Sunshine

You say you love me, and it’s inviting…to go where life is more exciting…but I was raised on country sunshine!

I wasn’t, of course, but those summer vacations to Alabama definitely shaped a lot of who I am, I think. I tend to think about it far more than I think about Chicago or our suburb or Kansas or California, or anywhere else I’ve lived besides New Orleans. It is where we are from, I suppose, and having grown up listening to stories–family stories, mostly–I am not sure what is actually true and what I invented in my imagination. Sometimes I think, if I outlive Dad and Paul, that I might move back there to live out my days; but who knows? I have five years to worry about where I may be in five years. But my plan is, for now, to retire when I hit seventy. I am not going to count down the days (weeks, months, years) until then, because that seems to make the time pass even faster than it actually does–which at this point is pretty fucking fast, no lie. But I slept deeply and well last night, which is good. I was still a bit drained yesterday, which I didn’t realize until I posted and got up from my chair to start doing things…which ended up not going well. As soon as I sat down in my easy chair yesterday morning, Sparky curled up in my lap and went to sleep, purring. I thought, oh I’ll just watch another episode of Season 2 and then I could do some things. Sparky didn’t budge and I got sucked into the show, finally getting up to go to bed at almost ten! There really is no worse influence than a purring sleeping cat, is there?

Oh, well. Like I said, I felt drained all day yesterday, physically and mentally, so letting everything just rest with another day of not doing much worked, because I feel pretty good this morning. I feel like this week I’ll get back on track–a normal four days in the office and a work-at-home Friday again–and start getting used to getting up and going to work every day and doing things when I get home at night. I don’t feel like I’ll be terribly tired (one never knows) so I have to push through in the evenings after I am home and feed/acknowledge/pet Sparky.

So, no, despite big plans, I didn’t get much done this weekend. I didn’t even run errands! I just stayed at home quietly and pretty much rested, other than doing laundry all day Saturday. The apartment is still a disaster area, which I need to do something about this weekend; Paul’s knee replacement is a week from Friday, so I need to clear out some stuff and get the place as organized and easy to navigate as possible. I do worry a bit about the kitchen rugs and how Sparky likes to pull them up, creating rug speed bumps, which won’t be fun with a walker.

Our evil, corrupt bitch of an attorney general is planning some “big announcement” for New Orleans today; there’s a reason she is being recalled (fingers crossed!). My personal favorite of the rejected amendments was the rejection of the creation of a new school district for St. George, the wealthy sundown town suburb of Baton Rouge that seceded from Baton Rouge–and also wanted to pull its tax money out of East Baton Rouge–you know, so they wouldn’t have to pay to educate Black children (fuck the St. George racists from now till the end of time). That amendment was soundly trounced by the voters. Sucks to be a St. George racist. Thoughts and prayers, upper middle class pigs living in tacky McMansions.

God, I am sick to death of our current national politics. I was thinking this morning, as I shaved, how this nightmare is really never going to end. Even with MAGA dying, it’s like the hydra; it’ll just grow another head, like how Sarah Palin and her racist Tea Party shenanigans (don’t forget that bitch Ginny Thomas was a big part of it, either–future historians of this time will not be kind to either of them) morphed into this bullshit to begin with; an astro-turf movement fueled and encouraged by the propagandists at Fox and Newsmax. (You know, the vast right-wing conspiracy Hillary warned about in the early 1990s only to be mocked and derided….she was right then, too, just like she’s always been right.) The Trumpers who are turning on him now aren’t becoming progressive; they’ll line up behind the next grifter who tells them what they want to hear; there’s a direct line from Palin’s grift to Trump’s.

But we never want to talk about how the 2016 election was a replay of the 2000–the results of which got us Roberts and Alito. May Susan Sarandon burn in hell for all eternity, thanks again, “liberal” media.

It’s really no wonder I don’t want to write, because I don’t want the poison of these times to leak into my writing, which is one of my joys in life. But…I am going to give it a try again this week. I think being out of my rhythm the last two weeks has also had a lot to do with it.

Sigh.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and it’ll be tomorrow morning before you know it!

Wichita Lineman

I am a lineman for the county…

This song, today’s title, came up on social media (which is neither) recently–I’m not sure when–but it reminded me not only of the song, which I love, and Jimmy Webb wrote for Glen Campbell, but was covered by any number of other artists. Go figure, right? My parents took us to see Campbell in concert in Chicago when we were kids–Mom and Dad did a lot of fun stuff with us–and while I don’t remember much of it, I know we enjoyed it.

I’m on my second cup of coffee this morning and I still feel a bit tired this morning. It’s fine; I did manage to get some chores done yesterday around being in my easy chair and resting–I did the laundry including the bed linens–so yesterday wasn’t a total write-off. We started watching House of Ashur (Paul: “it’s soft core gay porn with violence and blood”) and Amadeus (not sure why it needed a retelling in a mini-series, but visually it’s stunning) and I also did a lot of The Traitors Canada, moving from Season One on to Season Two. I love that in Season 2 they clearly watched–and are completely unafraid to mention–the previous season as they make references to what happened. Karine Vanesse has long been a favorite of mine, too. Her looks are often bold choices that don’t always land, but if it was me hosting, I would go so over the top it would be insane. One day I would be a musketeer, another I would be Louis XIV, then a pirate and…you get the idea.

I woke up to the glorious news that all five constitutional amendments proposed by the governor and his lickspittle legislature tried to shove down our throats for whatever nefarious purposes; the only one that was remotely close was the one about teacher pay. Bill Cassidy was thoroughly rebuked by Louisiana Republicans, which makes it look as though Trump has a lot of power and pull still in Louisiana…although more Republicans voted for someone else other than Trump’s anointed. Julia Letlow did win the primary, but didn’t get a majority. So, we don’t really know if this result was because of the impeachment vote–or for being an actual doctor and voting to confirm RFK Jr, or some combination of both. MAGA can’t be counting on their votes coalescing behind Letlow, either, in the general. This is very good news, and cause for hope. The rejection of the amendments is a strong rebuke to an unpopular governor and an unpopular legislature, too–they made the huge mistake of coming for New Orleans on top of their sheer incompetence and corruption. So, the general election and the progress of the recall petitions are unknowns, which hasn’t been an issue here since–well, since a Black man became president and everyone got their Klan robes dry cleaned. I’m not in the least bit sorry to see the useless wind chime Cassidy gone.

This morning I’m feeling a little bit tired still from yesterday. When I finish this I am probably going to go read for a bit. My mind was tired yesterday, too, so I didn’t read or write at all yesterday, but you know, I did a lot on Friday and exerted myself a great deal. My newsletter, about Carol Goodman’s marvelous The Sonnet Lover, also went out as scheduled (you can read it here), which also pleased me to no end. I do have to get the next ones for the week ready. I really am enjoying these longer-form entries, but I sometimes worry that it’s overkill on top of the blog here, which I still try to do every day. It won’t stop me, of course–I always do as I please, which is kind of a nice way to live. I probably should have gotten medicated for anxiety much earlier–a few years of it has certainly turned my life and attitude towards it around. My garden of fucks grows more barren and fallow every day, and while the old “pick me pick me” desperation still comes out every once in a great while, I shrug it off with a “why do I care” thought. Because I don’t. I don’t care if people like me or not. I also don’t feel any disgrace for any behavior before that was anxiety-driven. My brain was wired wrong, and there’s no need to feel embarrassment or shame about it, either.

I’m still not used to being easy on myself, but I like it much better than the way things used to be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely one, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning. Till then!

Personal trainer and fitness influencer Dave Rich. Handsome face and flawless body, but the eyes make him stand out in a world of perfect bodies.

Passionate Kisses

Friday morning in the Lost Apartment after a very good night’s sleep,, and Sparky let me sleep another hour, which was delightful and felt fabulous. My dinner date is tonight–not last, as I had thought–so I have that to look forward to after a day of driving Paul from appointment to appointment and running some errands for him out in Metairie. (My reward is we’re stopping at Costco on the way back into New Orleans…I make it sound like we were are crossing the ocean deep, don’t I, rather than the fifteen or so minutes it takes for me to get there….it’s a New Orleans thing.) Tomorrow I need to go vote, and find out where the recall petition signing is for low-life scavenging scum skank Liz Murrill. (I have already signed the recall for the governor’s stupid ass.) I also need to drop books at the library sale, too, and swing by Fresh Market, so might as well do all of that tomorrow. I also am voting in the state election tomorrow, and planning to vote no on everything that is Janky Jeff’s agenda. I am actually feeling inspired by how many people are rallying here against the bastards in Baton Rouge. Maybe with some massive voter turnout for a change down here we can make the state better.

It wouldn’t take much.

The other day, when I was talking about New Orleans sinking, I did what so many people do–focused on what is going to happen to New Orleans only–when the entire state is sinking. The coastline keeps rapidly moving further and further inland, the barrier islands are mostly gone, and it affects the entire state. The loss of New Orleans tax revenue will certainly bankrupt Louisiana, but what will be left of the rest of the state as the Gulf continues to eat away at the coast and move north. This is a state crisis, not just a city one, but no one in Baton Rouge or Washington seems to give two shits. It really is astonishing how quickly this entire country has gone downhill, and everything eroded so rapidly. Again, I am glad I am closer to the end of my life than to the beginning, because there’s no telling what the fuck is going to happen in the next four years.

I was tired last night after work, and when I got home, I just sat in my chair and got caught up on the news before watching another episode of The Traitors Canada–which I am enjoying–and after Paul got home we watched the latest episode of The Boys, and I would imagine if they hadn’t already lost all their MAGA viewers, this week’s would do the trick. I am not really sure how an action adventure super-hero show that satirizes and critiques the current state of the country so blisteringly is airing on Amazon, the same production company that gave us the biggest bomb in documentary history, Melania. Obviously, no one has told Bezos or his lizard-wife about it.

I am hoping to have a good weekend. I am taking Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece with me this morning to read while Paul is being seen at his various appointments, and I am going to try to finish reading it this weekend. My next newsletter is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning, and so I also need to work on the next one, too. Then there’s all the cleaning and organizing I need to get done, too. Heavy heaving sigh. Just looking around this morning from my desk, the Lost Apartment looks like the wreck of the Hesperus. I do hate when I let things slide like this during the week, and I really need to just do the chores when I get home from work before relaxing a bit–I end up stuck in the chair with Sparky in my lap and nothing gets done. And I do need to be a lot more productive in the evenings, and resist the need to relax for a bit.

And on that note, this place ain’t gonna clean itself, is it? So I’d best head into the spice mines, and get this weekend started. I shall be back tomorrow morning, Constant Reader–see you then!

Very few pro wrestlers were built like this when I was growing up, or I would have watched a LOT more.

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.

You’re the Reason God Made Oklahoma

Wednesday! Yesterday wasn’t bad; I felt pretty good yesterday morning when I got up, and that feeling did last throughout the work day. Yay! Monday was odd, but it had to have been a combination of sinuses and possibly some low blood sugar. I spent Monday kind of low-key resting and eating, and it paid off by feeling good on Tuesday. I just need to keep an eye on said blood sugar while I am out of town this weekend and next week. Sigh. But I am definitely looking forward to listening to Alafair and Laurie King on the driving. Woo-hoo! Reading is reading, even when it’s just listening.

I’m hoping to get a newsletter out today, talking about Barb Goffman’s wonderful short story “Baby Love.” Fingers crossed! It was a bit sad coming home and knowing Paul wouldn’t be coming home from the office (usually my mind just defaults to he’s working late) ; but it was much worse getting up this morning because he definitely wasn’t home. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy down time for just me, but…we’ve been living together for over thirty years now and I’m used to having him around. The apartment also seems so enormous and roomy when he isn’t home; who knew such a small guy takes up so much space? He does, however, have a big personality.

So does Sparky, for that matter. And me. Probably why the place always seems so small to me.

I wasn’t tired when I got home from work, and so did some things. Sparky needed some attention, so I did that (walked around with him on my shoulders, sleep in my lap) while watching and getting caught up on the news, such as it is. Lord. It’s so disheartening. This ballroom nonsense, and the way they all just fall in line to give their god-emperor everything he wants–after the desecration of a national landmark, no less–is just sick-inducing. They claimed we were like this with Obama–but Obama didn’t slap his name on the Kennedy Center, and had he torn down the East Wing of the White House without congressional approval to spend money we don’t have, MAGA would have stormed the White House. (Of course, they already showed their utter contempt for our government buildings when they defiled and desecrated the Capital in one of the most horrifying and shocking and unpatriotic assaults on the country in history. Future generations will be most unkind about this period of US history. MAGA doesn’t care, of course; they’ve always only been concerned with the present and never look ahead.

Don’t get me started on how they glorify a non-glorious past.

I feel pretty good this morning. I slept very well last night, and Sparky was all cuddly this morning trying to get me up to feed him instead of in attack mode. And one nice thing about Paul being gone is I can turn on lights upstairs while I’m getting ready instead of doing it mostly in the dark. It’s the little things? I slept so well last night I must have been more tired than I originally had thought when I got home from work. It was shameful I didn’t do more chores last night, but Sparky needed attention and since I am boarding him at the Cat Practice Friday–yeah, I don’t have a problem with spoiling him before he gets put in the crate.

Oh! I never posted this! Sorry to be so late, have a great day, and see you tomorrow!

Handsome Agustin Della Corte, who played Roque the gay rugby player on Olympo. I loved Roque! And what a great character name!

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. ↩︎