Well, I am heading into the office to work a full day there for the first time in weeks. I feel better, but am not 100% yet, either. The final tests finally came back, and nothing. They are sending me to a specialist next. I think I need to eat some probiotics, and I definitely dehydrate overnight. I also have to figure out all the things I am behind on, and get my shit together on that score. I was supposed to meet Dad for Cemetery Day this weekend but had to cancel out because I don’t want to relapse and the surest way to do that is to overdo things. This kind of stuff always happens around trips.
Tomorrow is my usual remote day, and I think this weekend I am going to mostly focus on getting rest, while trying to get some things done with no pressure on myself. I really crashed and burned hard, physically and mentally, and I am still trying to dig out from under the ashes. I overtaxed myself and didn’t listen to my body, which is always a mistake–and I just can’t do that at my age anymore. I’m going to try to start taking walks and exploring the neighborhood more. There are all kinds of new places to eat on St. Charles, and why not give them a try? I noticed a new pho place the other day–and I’ve been wanting pho lately. I’ve actually been craving all kinds of food lately, and I think I am going to put more effort into cooking rather than just lazily throwing something together. I mean, I love guacamole on sandwiches; is there anything better than a grilled cheese, guac, green tomato and bacon sandwich? I think not.
It’s more about energy and being tired–I am still so fucking tired it’s unreal–but the last of the tests came back, nothing, and so they are sending me to a specialist whose first available appointment is September 9th.
…drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry.
Which also doesn’t make sense; levees are neither wet nor dry, simply an earthen man-made wall to keep water in or out. I do wish I had a twenty, though, for every class where we had to dissect the meaning of “American Pie.”
I feel good today, and alert, and like I can get things done today. I wasn’t tired physically yesterday, but there was some mental fatigue so I didn’t get much writing done. It was literally like banging my head into a brick wall, but I did get almost a thousand words done. We also finished watching The White Lotus, which was good and interesting and all, but was it great? I don’t know, but the acting was on fire, which was terrific. We then spent the rest of the evening watching news clips of the world burning to the ground (my favorite are the tears of the MAGA grifters losing money now; sucks to be you, live by the MAGA die by the MAGA), and ironically, I started thinking about the book and the closed door in my brain that had been constraining and holding back everything I was trying to do with this book suddenly burst open in my head and I know exactly what to do with this book going forward. Huzzah! Now to get the words down…
As you may well also remember, I am researching the 1970s (mostly the early to mid) for my next book, and yesterday I went down the wormhole of short-shorts for men. The 1970s wasn’t maybe the best time for men’s fashions, but for the first time in a long time men’s clothes became more showy, and everything was super-tight, to show off the bodies. (Sadly, most men still neither worked out much–and those who did, often skipped leg day so they really didn’t have much of an ass to show off in their tight jeans.) Shorts were short–sometimes barely covering the full butt cheeks, and those ragged strings everyone had in their cut-offs that were barely more than a square cut today. It was a tragic decade for fashion–for most styles of everything, really. Cars were big and ugly, so was furniture, and the middle class’s tract homes all looked the same with the dark shag carpeting, the wood paneling (even on some cars!), and linoleum. And the memories these forays into research wormholes bring back! And the nice thing is those memories aren’t painful anymore? So what if I didn’t have any real friends because most everyone was afraid of fag cooties? I read a lot of books, made up a lot of stories, and was always able to entertain myself so I was never lonely. Sometimes I would just pick out a kids’ mystery to reread. I didn’t leave the house much, really, other than for school or the occasional shopping foray with my mom until we started going back to church (a tale for another time). But I didn’t get into trouble, I kept to myself, and it didn’t bother me that I was solitary because…my natural default is solitary. Whether solitude was meant to be my default, or not minding being alone developed it that way or not, is a mystery for the ages.
And now that I’ve grown up into a published author, I find that I really do prefer solitude. It’s lovely to get together with people I care about, but…much as I enjoy that (and I do), I wouldn’t miss it terribly if it went away tomorrow and I spent the rest of my life as a hermit in my apartment. Oh, probably enforced solitude would probably not be my thing either, but it’s something one can dream about, at any rate.
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely little Tuesday, and I’ll be back to check in with you again tomorrow for Pay the Bills Wednesday!
..when you check your 401k. I checked mine yesterday, which is risk-adverse and there’s not much in it, and it was still a shock. Mine had declined in value by 10%–and it’s risk averse. I can only imagine what happened to those that were higher risk/higher reward but also higher potential for loss.
Remember how the Republicans have always wanted to make social security investment accounts, just like they changed pensions to investment accounts under Reagan? How’s that working out for y’all? They have never had the best interests of the American people at heart, ever.
Gah.
We’re supposed to have thunderstorms all day today, which will be a nice way of dealing with the humidity we’ve been “enjoying” over the last few weeks. It’s also supposed to be in the fifties at night this week, which means better sleep. I slept pretty well this weekend, Sparky getting me up early for food but I’ve also been going to bed early every night; really getting tired around nine these last few nights and dozing off in the bed. We finished watching The Residence last night, which I highly recommend. It’s a witty, well done, and deeply clever murder mystery set in the White House, and it’s very Agatha Christie. WE then started watching season three of The White Lotus, which everyone has been talking about; we’d started season one but gave up after the first episode. Parker Posey is perfectly cast, as is everyone else; and God, Patrick Schwarzenegger’s character is such a douche bro; I despise him so far, about three or four episodes in? LSU also won their regional final yesterday was yet another score over 198.00; this is their sixth straight competition with a score of that or higher–and they left points on the board yesterday. GEAUX TIGERS!
I just looked out the windows and the sidewalk is wet, and it hasn’t rained…which means the humidity must be getting unbearable outside. I am looking forward to the thunderstorms arriving, because that’s when I am going to curl up under my blankets and read some more. I wanted to go to yesterday’s protests, but correctly assessed in the morning that I was fatigued, and other than some chores, I wasn’t going to get much of anything done. I’d planned to run an errand, but stayed inside and rested, hence the television bingeing. I hate that I wasn’t able to go; but I feel rested and good this morning (so far) so maybe it will last and I can get things done. There was insane turnout yesterday all across the country (and even across Louisiana!), and of course, it was largely ignored by State Media (Fox) and State Media-lite (everyone else). The utter failure of the legacy media to meet this moment in US History will be studied for centuries, provided the coming collapse of the United States doesn’t result in the world being plunged into a reoccurrence of the Dark Ages.
I hate that I am now so old that I can’t even go to protests anymore. But the massive turnout nation-wide yesterday gives me some hope–even as cishet white people don’t seem to quite understand what protests are, and they can be dangerous? Especially under this administration? Everyone who actually was able to attend yesterday was basically putting their bodies, lives and freedom on the line to take a stand; for those of you who still don’t get it try googling Kent State, or any of the protest marches in Alabama in the 1960s. The insanity I saw yesterday on social media–I still can’t believe the “bouncy house” thread was serious–just is another indication of why most marginalized communities don’t trust the cishet whites. One of the reasons I don’t feel sympathy for any MAGA voter with regrets or pulling the “I didn’t vote for this” Pilate handwashing of their crimes–is because you did vote for this. He didn’t lie to you about any of this. He told you he was going to do all of this, but he did lie about everyone getting rich; but…he was talking about rich people and corporations, not the voters who worship him. Sorry not sorry I don’t believe your claims that you aren’t transphobic or racist or homophobic now and were just misled; any rational adult could see you were being given Flavor-Ade to drink and were lapping it all up and asking for more. I feel so owned, you have no idea.
And on that cheery note, I am going to head into the spice mines while I wait for the thunderstorms to arrive (although the sun has just come out again). I have cleaning to do and taxes to organize, and I had hoped to make it to the gym today…but my shoulder is feeling sore again, so probably best to stay home and rest it, I guess. I hate being frail. I doubt I’ll be back before the morrow, so have a lovely Sunday fun day and I will see you in the morning.
Saturday morning and I have a couple of errands to do this morning. I need to go by the bank (I haven’t made a deposit in person in eons) and I have to swing by the grocery store. Sigh. I really didn’t want to leave the house today, but here we are. It’s also a struggle these days to get through as we go through and experience the collapse of the American experiment in self-rule. I think another significant part of our history that isn’t taught the way it should be is we aren’t taught about how many Tories there were in the colonies during the lead up to and aftermath of the Revolution. We aren’t taught New England threatened to secede during the War of 1812, or that there were people on both sides of the Civil War1 that sympathized with the other side; North and South weren’t monoliths the way we are taught. We aren’t taught about how many Americans were Nazi sympathizers and isolationists before Pearl Harbor, using the slogan “America First”–so you see why I have always raised a cynical eyebrow whenever anyone uses that slogan; it was tied to Nazi sympathizers to me.
Watching the collapse of our country is challenging and more than a little bit depressing. It is terrible that just as I approach the age of retirement and the final chapter of my life…well, the retirement may turn out to be involuntary, as my clinic’s funding is definitely on the chopping block, Social Security is about to be looted and destroyed, and I don’t want to even look at the paltry 401k, which has also probably evaporated. No job and no retirement funds is going to be awesome when I turn 64. Paul got the notice from the NEH to not bother applying for grant funding, as it’s all been cut, so his job may not survive this, either–no more festivals in the spring. So, miss me with “we need to be nice to MAGA voters now finding out”–fuck them now and forever. I will never forgive them, and their suffering lightens mine. You want to embrace them, be my guess. Me? I will never stop laughing and pointing, let alone mocking them and enjoying their tears. My patience has worn out for ignorant haters, sorry not sorry– and as they so eloquently put it, “fuck your feelings.”
Yesterday was a nice day, overall. I got up, had a virtual meeting at work, and then did my Admin work before running some errands. I got that done, and then Paul and I made a Costco run and spent an insane amount of money. After getting home, lugging everything into the house and putting it all away, I was tired. I collapsed into my chair for a while as Paul went upstairs to work on the NEH grant–but got the email so didn’t have to bother for the rest of the evening and we dove further into The Residence, which I am greatly enjoying. Uzo Adoba is fantastic as Cordelia Copp, the world’s greatest detective, and it’s very well cast, high production values, and the writing is quite crisp. The chief usher at the White House (the divine Giancarlo Esposito) is murdered during a state dinner, and Cordelia is brought in to solve the murder. I think what’s most interesting is the divide between the White House domestic staff v. the White House political staff; the domestics work for the House, the political staff comes and goes. I’d never really thought much about the staff of the residence, so it’s an interesting look at how that all works, and it’s very cleverly structured. Highly recommend.
I do have some errands to do today, and a lot of straightening up to do as well. I want to get some reading and writing in this morning, so I can go to the gym tomorrow (I know, right?) and get some more done. I’ve been letting things slide a lot lately, which probably means I am depressed, which isn’t surprising, given the state of the world and everything else going on in my life. I think there’s an element of why bother with this book, to be honest, which is counter-productive and quite self-destructive, but it’s hard to be productive when your default is almost always pessimism. I always knew Republicans were working very hard to destroy everything decent about this country (unfettered capitalism is sociopathic in nature), but I never dreamed they might actually succeed. To paraphrase Game of Thrones: “Whenever I wonder why the Republicans would do something so counter-productive to democracy, I like to play a little game: what is the worst reason they would want to do this?”
Littlefinger was right, even if he did end up with his throat slit for his treachery.
Yesterday I also realized that one of the great American traditions, going back to colonial days, of evading paying duties and tariffs was smuggling. I used to love to read about Colonial smugglers (John Hancock was one), and some great fiction was built up around smuggling. I’ve always thought the years of Prohibition (and alcohol smuggling) in New Orleans would be an interesting time to write about. That decade saw the rise of Huey Long to power in Louisiana, and there are some fantastic stories about that post-Storyville time here. Jean Lafitte was a pirate, too–but he was also a very successful smuggler. But again, one of the great problems of New Orleans/Louisiana research is going down wormholes and sidebars–my ADHD does not matters at all in this regard; I do remember wanting to write about “Mrs. Officer,” the first woman cop in New Orleans, who was hired because they needed a woman to search and interrogate criminal women, which was a problem during Storyville days. I mean, what a great decade to research and write about! Imagine what “Mrs. Officer”2 endured in terms of misogyny as the only woman cop in an era where women couldn’t vote.
There’s also a protest today scheduled in New Orleans, as well as around the country. I’m hoping to make it, it just depends on how tired I am after getting things done this morning. I feel pretty good right now, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t flag later, either.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you most likely tomorrow morning.
This is a classic example of why I say we don’t teach history properly (which will end up being a longer-form essay for my newsletter at some point). There were plenty of Tories during the American Revolution. There were Southern sympathizers in the North and Unionists in the South–I knew about the North, but whenever I’d come across that about the South I figured it was after-the-fact apologia, excusing Southern whites for their inhumanity. But over the least few years as I’ve done more deep dives into Alabama history, and hearing more old family stories, I’ve come to realize it was actually true. Erik Larson discusses this in more detail in his The Demons of Unrest, which I do recommend. ↩︎
SHe was always referred to as “Mrs. Officer,” which also makes a great title. ↩︎
I’ve always been a fool, but my brain has always worked to convince me that is not the truth. (Spoiler: it is. I am constantly amazed at how foolish I am, or have been, which is one of the many reasons I second-guess myself all the damned time.) I often deceive myself that I handle things better than I do, and it seems I often don’t have the necessary distance from things to evaluate them properly.
I finally wrote about my friendship with Dorothy Allison yesterday on my newsletter; if you are so inclined you can click there and read it (you can also subscribe while you’re there, or not, it’s up to you). She died right after the election, and I never like to share my grief publicly (still fighting that “never bleed in public” training from childhood), because it’s personal to me. Doing the reading on Sunday, I realized I was finally in a place where I could mourn her publicly. Likewise, I didn’t want to do the last-minute reading in honor of Felice Picano because it was too soon. I’ll write about Felice one day, probably this summer, when someone or something will remind me of him and I’ll know it’s time. I hate being at the point in life when you start losing friends with greater regularity. That’s the thing they never tell you about getting old–being older means getting used to loss, and really, that’s about it.
Yesterday was a decent day. It was slow at clinic so I got a lot of my admin work caught up, but I wasn’t all there, if that makes any sense. I wasn’t tired, but just felt…drained. Not sure what that was about, so I came home and did chores, watched LSU win the regional semifinal by breaking 198.00 again (GEAUX TIGERS!), so they’ll be competing in the final tomorrow, and we started watching The Residence, which got off to an interesting start before I went to bed early. I feel pretty good this morning, have some work to do here, and then later will run errands. I mean, I feel as good as I can giving the fact that retirement is beginning to look like it won’t be an option for me ever–and what is most likely is involuntary retirement because of funding cuts. Thanks again, MAGA voters, for giving me another reason to despise you with every fiber of my being–and other people might forgive you at some point, but I never fucking will, and I’ll go to my grave hating and despising you fucking racist and homophobic pieces of shit. The only thing that is getting me through this stress is the grim satisfaction of knowing they’re suffering even worse and they know it’s their own fault. I will never stop belittling and mocking them as long as I have breath in my body. Staying positive in the age of negativity is definitely a challenge…especially now that Wall Street has cratered and we are on the brink of a world-wide depression that is no one’s fault but our own.
I also realized that today’s title really works, because I still cling to the belief that somehow we’ll survive this illegitimate regime and it won’t get that terribly bad. I’ve been bankrupt before, I can live through it again, I suppose. But this is what the Republicans have been pushing for since the Reagan misadministration, which I’ve been saying for fucking decades, only to be dismissed as lightly as Cassandra on the walls of Troy (I really would love to write from her perspective; I can imagine no curse greater than being able to see the future only to have no one believe you. No wonder she went mad)? There have been few, if any, good Republicans since the party was overhauled when everyone who’d really experienced the Great Depression1 was dead and couldn’t remind everyone of the policies that led to that disaster. And here we are, almost to the hundred year anniversary of the stock market crash and the depression that followed.
Americans never learn from their history and always repeat it. We are not a nation of smart people.
And on that truly sad note, I’ll head into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I will definitely check in on you either later or tomorrow.
Worth mentioning that the collapse of our economy led to the same thing, only worse, around the world, which led to the rise of fascism. In true American narcissism, the Great Depression is always taught as an American issue, rather than a global one–another way history is taught incorrectly. ↩︎
Monday morning and I am exhausted. I slept very late this morning–my legs and lower back are still a little achy–but it was needed. I was on fumes by the end of dinner last night, so much so that I literally waited eighteen minutes for a streetcar because my phone had died (again) so I couldn’t summon a Lyft, and there was no way I was going to make it home again on foot. It was also achingly, annoyingly humid all weekend, and so my socks were always damp with sweat, which makes me uncomfortable because I feel gross. Lesson from the weekend: you need to go back to the gym and take walks more, so you can be in better condition for weekends such as this. I can’t remember the last time I felt so dried out and exhausted and as just a husk of a human like I do this morning. But…probably it was last year’s Festivals. Maybe next year I should just stay down there and not commute because it’s so exhausting. Who knows?
I woke up late to a marvelous thunderstorm and downpour, one of those lovely New Orleans storms where you start to imagine what it was like when the rains for Noah’s flood started, and since I took the day off (wisely, as it turned out) I could burrow back down into the blankets and stay there, warm and snug and comfortable. (I did spare a “sorry” thought for all those flying out from New Orleans, as flights were probably delayed, before drifting off again.) I stayed there until Sparky’s desire for breakfast became so overwhelming that I felt bad for how hungry he must be so got up. I did some laundry and walked to Walgreens to get a few things, before deciding “meh, I can make groceries tomorrow on the way home from work and I can get the mail then too” and went back to the easy chair with Sparky to rest for a while. I watched the gold medal performances for the US Figure Skating team at Worlds (the US for the first time in a long time–if not ever–won three golds; ice dance, men’s, and women’s), which was fun and exciting, and then Paul came home and we talked and caught up for a while, so now he’s upstairs making sure there are no smoldering embers that need snuffing out from the weekend. I remembered I hadn’t finished this, so decided to walk away from catching up on the news–it’s so disheartening to come out of a lovely bubble of writing and publishing and friends and talking about books and writing with likeminded others to the harsh reality of this unpleasant time-line we’re in, seriously–and came back into the kitchen as the last load of laundry from the weekend tumbles dry.
Damn, I am tired.
It was a lovely weekend, though, despite being tired and sort of mentally foggy from overstimulation, I think, from Friday night on. I laughed a lot and talked a lot and gossiped a lot, drank more than I usually do (which is none at all), and ate out more than I ever do. (I had fried green tomatoes with shrimp remoulade twice, and am determined to learn how to make this at home; I’d never had the tomatoes in a regular frying batter before; it was always corn meal, like with fried okra; regardless, this reminded me that I really like fried green tomatoes.) It was kind of nice, and the weather was more humid than I would have preferred all weekend, but things were good. My panels went well, I think, as did my reading in the Dorothy Allison Tribute and my congratulatory message to the finalists of the short story anthology–and that reading was lit, as was the poetry reading at the closing reception. I’ll probably talk about the whole weekend more as the week goes on, but it was marvelous spending time with people whom I have a great affection for, as well as meeting some new people who were equally marvelous. I did do a lot of walking, so it’s no surprise my tired old out of shape ass is so wrecked from the weekend. I did remember this same thing happening last year–but I didn’t take Monday off last year, so kudos to past Greg; plus I hate having to call it an early night on Sunday because I have to work the next morning.
I probably will still be a little punchy still for a few more days, but I can deal.
I’ll dig myself out of the bubble tomorrow.
It also seems like a lot happened over the weekend that I wasn’t able to acknowledge properly (like the humiliating rebuke to our fascist governor received from Louisiana’s voters Saturday, mwa-ha-ha) that I do want to talk about some more. I also had some lovely ideas over the weekend, and I also heard some things that made me think that I want to explore further, so yes, there was some serious creative stimulation as well. These two festivals are my safe spaces, where I can relax completely and don’t have to worry about experiencing any kind of bigotry. I was on a panel that I’d really rather explore, too, because it made me think about some things about the past and the present that I’d like to explore a bit more.
And on that note, I am going to bring to a close and rest a bit more. Have a lovely Monday, and I’ll talk with you again tomorrow.
I am off work on this glorious Friday, as I prepare to slip into the Festival weekend. I do have things to do–writing–so I am fortunate that I have my mornings free all weekend, so I can get that writing done. I did have a good writing day yesterday–three thousand words and a whole new chapter, which isn’t bad for a Festival widow. I don’t have any assigned duties today, but I am going to head down for the opening party and there’s a panel at 4 I’d also like to attend. I need to do some writing and some chores here before I head out–as well as some errands to run–but I have some time today and it’s going to be a lovely one, methinks. It’s kind of gray outside this morning, but I think it’s going to be a nice day–even though the weather this weekend may not be the greatest.
I got some work done on the book last night, and I feel good about that, and as always, I am quite convinced it’s terrible work. Someday it would be nice to write something I feel satisfied with immediately after, but maybe that will happen for me at some point in the future. But I feel pretty good this morning, well rested and relaxed and my coffee is just simply superb. I’ve started laundering the bed linens already, Sparky seems content to hang out here by my desk and watch Cat TV out the window, and yes, I know he’s just waiting for me to vacate my desk chair–but at least he’s not being obnoxious about it…yet. There’s still plenty of time, especially since I need to unload the dishwasher and reload it and yes, I have a lot of domestic god things to get done this morning before setting out for the day.
There are worse ways to spend a day, you know?
After finishing my word count for the day yesterday (2700 total), I was pretty worn out and drained. It was a relatively easy day for the clinic, so I was able to get a lot of things caught up so I won’t be as behind when I go back in on Tuesday (I took Monday off also this year; I didn’t the last couple of years and totally regretted it); I’ll just have to catch up on Monday’s paperwork and so forth. So, yes, I am feeling good this morning, and I guess last night’s excellent sleep was due to getting the word count in for once and it was the sleep of the righteous. Ugh, just looking around the apartment this morning…yeah, I need to do some cleaning this morning around the writing.
I am also pleased to report that Crime Writers for Trans Rights met our auction goal on only the second day! We still have several days left for the auction, so get in there and bid bid bid! There’s all kinds of great stuff with very low bids on them, and some items that are awesome haven’t got any yet! I cannot even begin to tell you, Constant Reader, how the response to this auction has sort of (not completely, of course) made me feel a little better about this community I belong to. After the intense disappointments and homophobia I’ve experienced, including from people I thought were friends, my opinion of the crime fiction community was pretty fucking low, and as I said, after the betrayal of the election last November, I’d had it. Let me put it to you in a way that’s more understandable, okay, because I know some people have trouble letting go of their own privilege: when you not only will not call out a friend for saying something homophobic, and actually play along with it, what you are telling your queer friends is we can’t count on you if and when things get bad for us…and that election result was a promise that things were, indeed, going to get bad for us. If you won’t say to your buddy, “dude, that’s not cool and homophobic,” how can I expect you to do a fucking thing in the face of a coordinated government effort to strip me of my rights, my humanity and my citizenship? And joining in tells me you not only won’t do a fucking thing when push comes to shove, but you may actually become an informer.
And how I am supposed to feel safe around you, ever again? For the record, that’s what I mean when I say I don’t feel safe–I don’t trust the people I’m around to have my back in the face of homophobia, which isn’t a good feeling.
But at least my fears of negative responses from people to the auction have proven untrue, and my worries about not meeting our goal were clearly unfounded. It’s nice to be reminded that not everyone in this community is a bigot. Doesn’t mean I’m going to start attending crime fiction community events any time soon; I don’t feel safe there, despite the good people, and no, I will never forget having someone who has claimed to be “one of the good guys” saying faggy to my face at Bouchercon in Toronto, or being told I was “nobody” by Bouchercon programmers (speaking of fucking nobodies and hangers on).
I want to preserve my peace, and why the fuck would I spend that kind of money to go get treated like shit and have no one in the organization care? Which, again, is “you’re nobody.”
But thank you to everyone who donated and to everyone who is bidding for restoring some faith in the community for me.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Friday be everything you want it to be, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.
Tuesday morning and am easing back into the week somehow. I was a bit tired yesterday, and felt a little low energy, like the prelude to an onset of something. By the time I got home from work I truly felt lousy, so relaxed for a while, took some Dayquil, and let my mind wander while watching the news, this week’s John Oliver episode, and decided to peek in on the most recent episode of The White Lotus, to see what everyone was talking about on social media all day yesterday. Okay, got it. We’ll probably watch the entire season once it’s all available; it definitely piqued my interest and I will have forgotten all or most of this by the time we watch anyway–one of the benefits of this truly shitty memory thing I have going on anymore. I did work on the book a bit, and knew what to do, but was just too fatigued to do it. I hate when that happens. But this morning I feel better than I did yesterday morning, so here’s to a productive day. I really hate feeling under the weather. Tired is an entirely different thing I don’t mind so much, but being sick can fuck all the way off.
The world, and country, continue to burn to the ground as the MAGA government by billionaire further establishes and consolidates power to the executive branch. (Thanks again, Sycophant Schumer. Your interview in the New York Times only served to further underscore how out of touch with your constituents and your base you are. You’re as big a disgrace as Roger P. Taney and James Buchanan. You fucking own this, you and the other nine who knifed the base in the back. Oh, and thanks again for shivving Biden last summer, you fucking piece of shit, and handing the White House back to the Right. Remember, we sent the Rosenbergs to the chair. We are where we are because of Democratic cowardice. I will never forget.) It’s hard not to get worried, stressed or be anxious. My job is federally funded, after all, and they are coming for queers and queer books, too. Woo-hoo, nothing like having both of your careers hanging over the precipice, is there? My Social Security and Medicare apparently are also on the line, so after a lifetime of working hard and paying into both systems, I’ll never be able to retire…voluntarily, at any rate.
Thank God I have anxiety medications. Thanks again, Senator Schumer and the Asinine Nine.
Heavy heaving sigh.
I am pleased with how the book is coming along, even if I was too brain-dead last night to do much more work on it. It’s going to be pretty good, I think, nice and spooky and Gothic and creepy. Years ago I read a John D. MacDonald novel called Murder in the Wind, which takes place during a hurricane, when a bunch of motorists take shelter in an abandoned house–all strangers, but one car contained a psychopathic criminal–and that’s kind of the tone I want to merge with the usual Scotty tone to pull the whole story off. I know MacDonald was a sexist writer whose work was very much of its time and some of it hasn’t aged well, but the man could write and tell a story and create some memorable characters, plots and situations; I’m sure a revisit of his canon would also turn up some racism and homophobia, too. I do think, were he to be alive and writing now, he’d be more woke than conservative; almost all of his later Florida novels had to do with environmentalism and how greed and corruption were destroying the state (Condominium, anyone?), and I have often longed for someone to write those kind of Louisiana books…I also think Carl Hiassen style novels about Louisiana would also be kind of awesome. Don’t look at me, I’m not a strong enough plotter to write anything like Haissen, just as I am not familiar enough with the environmental disasters conservative greed and corruption create to write about them…and doing the research would probably make me anxious again. I know I’ve always wanted to write about cancer alley and the poor Black communities poisoned by it, but how do you tell that story when there’s no justice in the end for anyone? Not to mention the disappearing wetlands. Who knows how long Louisiana can still call itself “sportsmen’s paradise” once everything is ruined down here?
Louisiana, and New Orleans, never cease to be sources of inspiration, you know?
And who knows? Stranger things have happened.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. One never can be entirely sure.
The bare curve of a male ass–do we think it will trigger Meta’s puritans?
Saturday morning and I slept late; Sparky didn’t seem to mind and let me stay in bed until hunger overtook him and he became insistent that I get up and feed him. I slept deeply and well, and today of course we are going to have really bad weather from about noon till six pm, with potential tornados, and we are also going to have high winds all day. I need to run get some things I forgot at the grocery store yesterday–so I will clearly need to get that done before noon, methinks. Yesterday was pleasant, I did my remote work, ran some errands, and did some chores around the house. I started reading Moonraker again (hesitant to call it a reread since I remember absolutely nothing about the book), and have some thoughts already about it (definitely written and published in the mid-1950s originally). We caught up on our shows, watched LSU Gymnastics, and watched the new Kate Hudson show on Netflix, Running Point, which we are really enjoying. It’s very well-cast and a lot more interesting than I expected it to be; I’m not interested in basketball, but I found myself enjoying it and even laughing out loud. I got my chores done yesterday, too. Woo-hoo!
I also spent most of yesterday in a rage about the latest Democratic betrayal of their voting base, led by Chuck Schumer (who needs to step aside for someone younger and more in touch) and nine other Democratic quislings who ended their careers yesterday by agreeing to let DOGE gut everything to keep the government open to “not cause pain”–although the fucking bill they signed off will most definitely cause pain to people who are never in a million years going to vote for this iteration of the Democratic Party. I actually went on-line after Schumer and The Asinine Nine pissed in all of our faces to change my voter registration from Democratic to independent. Not another dime to the Party, any of its election committees for the House or the Senate, or to anything other than an individual candidate1. I am sick to death of these “norms and institutional preservationists” who are not only not meeting the moment but actively working to make things so much worse for everyone and hoping we’ll forget this abject betrayal. And with all due respect, I would have never thought there would be a Senate leader of the party who’d make Harry Reid look like a fighter. Well done, Chuck Schumer, and fuck you from now to eternity. I will donate to your primary opponent, just as I will for the other nine Judases who betrayed their base but want our money and loyalty.
You can die in a fucking fire, Democratic Party, and congratulations about making this deeply unpopular bill your fucking mess. You bought it, you own it, fucking trash, and as long as I live I will never let you forget it.
And we’re here because the Chicks had more courage than you in 2003 to begin with.
But I also was thinking that maybe I shouldn’t talk about politics and our continued slide into full-bore authoritarianism (thanks again, Chuck! You’re as shitty as your wretched cousin Amy) because why contribute to the growing sense of dread and fear as the world burns? I have this bad habit of thinking I have nothing to add to any kind of discourse, and this is a holdover from my horrific college experiences–everything witty and wise has already been said before, and what do I know? I know enough to know I don’t know enough, but why does that make my opinions any less valid than someone else’s? Sure, I’ve not read all of the academic papers on crime fiction, politics, history, or queer literature. I also worry that my conclusions or discoveries about things I’m interested in aren’t terribly original and have already been stated many times before (and better) with someone more grounded in art and science and history. But that doesn’t mean what I think and feel and conclude isn’t valid. I’m always going to think I am under-read on any given subject, you know? And I also don’t read as quickly as I used to, either. But again, I need to stop NOT taking myself so lightly. And if I post something and someone has a different opinion, that doesn’t make mine invalid, either–and this is a growth experience, something I can use to expand my knowledge.
I also managed to finally make it past a particular level in my Duolingo German lessons. That particular challenge took me a week to finally complete, and I still got some things wrong. It was mostly typos and article gender agreement2 which was frustrating, but I finally defeated that level yesterday and conquered the next this morning, so maybe my German will get back on track.
And on that note, I am going to run to the store and pick up the things I need before the storms begin. Have a great Saturday and I will check back with you again later, okay?
But those individuals I’ve donated to–Fetterman, Synema, etc–turned around nd stabbed us all in the back as well. So maybe no more donations, period. ↩︎
Every noun in German is gendered, and there’s a version of “the” for every noun’s gender; male, female, it. ↩︎
Wednesday pay-the-bills day has rolled around again (huzzah?). But we’re also halfway through the week and I am not exhausted yet, so that’s a plus? I slept very well last night, and the bed felt very comfortable this morning when Sparky and my alarm started trying to get me out from under my heavy blankets. Yesterday was a fairly good day. I finished the short story and sent it in, and now tonight hopefully I will be able to get back into writing the book again. St. Patrick’s Day is also this weekend, so I’ll be trapped at home because of the Irish Channel parade–traffic will be horrible, so I need to check the time and what day and the route and all that and plan my weekend around it.
There’s nothing more New Orleanian than planning around a parade, is there? Ah, the Crescent City life, right?
Paul got home late again last night, so after I worked on my story and did a few chores, I settled into my easy chair with Sparky for some bonding and to watch the news…which becomes more and more dystopian and insane every goddamned day. Now the government is illegally detaining and disappearing legal residents under the guise of “preventing anti-Semitism.” This is terrifying. This is one of the biggest violations of the First Amendment I’ve seen. If we have to listen to bigotry and prejudice and hatred all under the umbrella of ‘free speech,’ then everyone has to suck it up and hear speech they don’t like. It isn’t “free speech for me, but never for thee.” Everyone in this country, whether they are here legally or not, is entitled to the protections of our Constitution–which include due process. It always amazes me that people miss that part. (It’s the same kind of elitist “us v. them” that Christianity teaches them.)
And now we have someone using the highest office in the land to make car commercials in front of the White House. Talk about cheapening the dignity of the office! But the office was cheapened when he returned to it, wasn’t it? I will give him credit, as he’s accomplished several things no one thought possible in uniting Canada and Europe against us. What a lovely way to repay our allies, right? We’re going back to that horrible period between the world wars, where our economy crashes and the United States are isolated from the rest of the world….and how did that turn out for the world? SPOILER: Not well.
Sigh. I suppose we should be glad it wasn’t a McDonalds or KFC commercial.
I am so tired of living in this, the dumbest timeline of all. It’s been really amazing seeing how fragile our systems and institutions are, and how much people love to cosplay “patriotism” without understanding even the barest minimum of how to be a good citizen in this country. I’m tired of people complaining about paying their taxes but also bitching about how shitty the government is. Why are we so uneducated? Because the Right has always hated free public education and has been doing their damnedest to undermine and underfund it since its inception. The reason why societies always fail under conservatives/libertarians. Libertarians are all about the theory, but subscribing to a theory that is a fallacy will always end up with terrible outcomes. The fact that so many people don’t know how fucking tariffs work (and neither do the current administration) is a stinging indictment of public education–not to mention no longer requiring either a civics or government course. (My US Government course has proven so valuable to me over the years…like 2000, when I was one of the few people aware of what the Electoral College was and its role in elections.) But…an educated populace who knows how the government works and is capable of critical thinking would never vote conservative, so here we are. No Christian should ever vote conservative and show their face in church the following Sunday, but…
Sigh. A lot of people in our society love to cosplay at things they don’t understand.
I still haven’t started reading my next book, and I may try to dive into Moonraker tonight after I get home from my errands (Sparky needs treats!). We shall see.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later!
Yeah, Tom Cruise was most definitely NOT the embodiment of Reacher
Queer and Loathing in America 