Tag: Missouri

I Keep Forgetting (Every Time You’re Near)

One of the things I had listed on goals for 2023 was to be better at marketing myself and my work. This also requires a complete reboot of my brain and how it functions; I have always been embarrassed to praise myself or talk about myself in non-negative ways, and this year I realized, with shock and horror and not a little bit of awe, that whenever I demeaned or belittled myself and my work publicly, I was undermining myself. What I saw as “charming humble self-deprecation” or “eccentric author doesn’t take himself seriously in a charming manner” might not be coming across the way it was intended. But shaking the habit of a lifetime of religious and family training to always be humble, never brag or boast, and to always remember to simply be satisfied with having done the best I could and let the praise come from outside, isn’t easy. I had always intended, for example, to join Canva and start producing my own graphics (because I am horrible with technology and learning new things, and I have so little time to learn things); I finally did that yesterday morning AND created my own first graphic for my Facebook home page image–the covers of both new books, my author photo, and the message Out This Month! –and it wasn’t terribly hard to do, and it was a kind of fun creative exercise that is easily manageable and another fun thing for me to do on Saturday mornings: make a new graphic for social media!

It’s a start. I also need to work on my website.

I am also doing Blatant Self-Promotional posts every day for each book–or at least I am trying. Three blog posts a day is a lot, frankly, and my brain is already so fried and overburdened with the upcoming surgery that there’s not a lot of space up there for much more than I am already doing, and it’s been a struggle trying to come up with promotional topics about each book every day. I also worry in promoting Death Drop and talking about drag that I am exposing my own ignorance on the topic on a daily basis, chasing potential readers away. Sigh. You see the trap anxiety sets for me on a regular basis? The fucking anxiety makes me second-guess myself all the time, which isn’t great, especially for someone it also gives self-esteem issues to.

Yesterday was an interesting day for college football. It was lovely watching Missouri destroy, dismantle, and all around just humiliate Tennessee. Missouri is one of those teams I don’t dislike; I sometimes forget they’re in the SEC but there’s some residual distaste for them from when we lived in Kansas–one thing KU and K-State fans can agree on is pure hatred for Missouri–but in the SEC, they’ve never bothered me much; probably because LSU plays them so infrequently. Georgia embarrassed Mississippi last night, which means the Tide is peaking at the right time and remember back when everyone was wondering if the Alabama dynasty was over? Yeah, it’s Georgia and Alabama playing for the SEC title again in Atlanta this year, same is it ever was. And of course, last night LSU took Florida apart in Tiger Stadium. Can we talk about Jayden Daniels for a moment? Even with a slightly more average defense, LSU would be in the national title conversation and without Daniels, we’d probably not have a single SEC win, other than maybe Mississippi State. He was phenomenal last night, setting all kinds of records and basically looking the best player in college football all year. His consistency has been insanely off the charts, and so have the numbers he’s been putting up, and if it weren’t for the 2019 team, this would be the greatest offense in LSU history–which makes the shitty defense all the more painful, really.

And now LSU has beaten Florida five times in a row. That’s the longest LSU winning streak in the series, and this was the last time the rivalry game will be played every year. If that doesn’t have Billy Napier’s job in trouble, remember–they still have a rivalry game left with a Florida State team that beat LSU in the opener and has only gotten better ever since. Paul and I were at the 2019 Florida game, which was a 42-28 thriller with Burrow torching the Gators the whole time. LSU wasn’t even supposed to be able to stay on the field with Florida during the next two seasons–and won both games, including the Shoe Game in 2020, which ended Florida’s play-off hopes. (They also honored the national championship baseball team during the game last night–the team that defeated Florida 2 out of 3 for the championship, which was some epic shade.) This year’s loss to Alabama was disappointing, especially since if Daniels hadn’t been hurt we might have been able to hang with them a bit more, but LSU is still further ahead in the rebuilding process than we should be, and that’s a credit to Coach Kelly and his staff–excluding the entire defensive coaching staff. The Tigers can get to 9-3, and ten wins if they win out–with Georgia State and Texas A&M the only games left, and both are winnable. The Saints play today at noon, but I am not sure I have the emotional stability to watch! (And USC lost, too–always a joy when Lincoln “too good for LSU” Riley gets his ass handed to him.)

I didn’t get as much done yesterday as I wanted to, because I did get distracted and sucked into football games, and Tug just wanted to cuddle all day, pretty much, so I spent the day in my easy chair with the games on while playing with my phone and iPad. I can have a day off every once in a while, can’t I? I think I am also going to slow down on the BSP, at least for a bit–and then I think yeah but you might disappear off-line after the surgery so you should do as much as you can before hand. This is also a valid point. I made shrimp creole last night, which turned out amazing, and it also felt nice to be cooking again, you know: It’s been a hot minute since the last time I cooked anything for real, and it was kind of a warm-up for me because I want to make mac-n-cheese tomorrow as well as a red velvet cheesecake for work. Ambitious, wouldn’t you say? I also bought cake pans yesterday while making groceries, because I don’t have a cake pan anymore, apparently; I’ve also lost my cake carrier–which I suspect was a casualty of a declutter during the pandemic, so I’ll have to buy another. Sigh.

And I just KNOW that after a buy a new one, the old one will turn up someplace where I put it where I wouldn’t forget that I put it. I outsmart myself on a fairly regular basis. But tomorrow morning are all my pre-surgery appointments, which is when I am going to find out exactly what the hell my recovery process is going to look like. And maybe this week my dentures will finally be ready; we can only hope.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again probably later–because the call of the Blatant Self-Promotion will undoubtedly prove too strong to resist.

Rock This Town

As Constant Reader is aware–because I am nothing if not repetitious–I spent ages two to nineteen in the midwest, and the last five of those in rural Kansas. I’ve blogged endlessly about it, have written several books set there, and often blame (some of) my emotional scarring on the experience. It’s one of the reasons that stupid fucking song from earlier this year (“Try That in a Small Town”) was so ridiculous and offensive; yet another tired round of ammunition from people who equate cities with evil and rural life with purity and goodness–to which I always say “Someone’s never read Peyton Place, let alone lived in a small fucking town.” Big cities certainly don’t corner the market on crime and sin and lawlessness; small rural communities can be just as vile and horrible as any metropolis.

Shirley Jackson didn’t set “The Lottery” in Times Square for a reason.

There’s an entire essay to be written about the moral rot of the Bible Belt and rural America–and make no mistake, rural America is every bit as corrupt, sinfully evil, and dangerous as the worst neighborhood in any big city–but this is not the time, as I am here to talk about this marvelous novel I read very quickly last night.

“Can you see me?” Cole yelled over to them. He was standing on the south shore of the reservoir, barefoot and facing the water. He looked like he was thinking, but Janet knew better. The scrunch in Cole’s expression came from trying to keep his belly in a six-pack.

“I’ve got you,” Victoria yelled back as she framed her brother. She was using his phone and struggling with the device. “How do you zoom on this thing?” she asked as she shuffled to the edge, not looking at her feet and focusing on Cole. Janet could see a pink stamp of tongue at the corner of Victoria’s mouth as she tried her best to get the shot her brother wanted.

“You’ve got to be in portrait mode when you go live.”

Janet meant it as a polite pointer, but as the words came out of her mouth, they sounded like a dig. SHe didn’t mean it to be a dig, but she couldn’t help it, either. Her tone was why people thought she was such a bitch. Her tone and that she kind of was. Whatever–it was fun to watch the sheep quiver.

I don’t remember how Adam Cesare and his y/a horror thriller Clown in a Cornfield first came to my attention; if it was a suggestion from a website or if I saw someone talking about it on social media or I don’t know where, but I am very glad it did. The book is absolutely right up my alley–young adults, horror, small town Midwestern America (you know, “the REAL America,” right, Sarah Palin?), and terrifying clowns. I’ve never been afraid of clowns–although many people are, and I can respect that. The white greasepaint, the garish hair and eye make-up, the clothes–it’s not hard to see how something intended to entertain children (remember, fairy tales in their original form are horrifying) can easily become something that is absolutely terrifying. John Wayne Gacy, notorious serial killer who preyed on children, worked as a clown for kids’ parties–which is very unsettling, and of course, who can ever forget Stephen King’s masterclass of clown horror, It? Killer clowns have become kind of a cliché…but they still work.

Clown in a Cornfield works on its basic surface level–it’s a scary story that reads quickly and raises the adrenaline and is chockfull of surprises and twists; like the novel version of a slasher movie. (Something I’ve always wanted to do, frankly.) It takes place over the course of a couple of days, and is set in the small dying town of Kettle Springs, Missouri, where main character Quinn Maybrook and her father have just moved from Philadelphia; it’s hinted early on that the tragic death of her mother is why they moved during her senior year: a fresh start in a wholesome rural small town in the REAL America…which turns out to be all too real. The town is dying because the corn syrup processing plant shut down, and the town is losing population. The above few paragraphs are from the prologue–which sets up the rest of the book. There’s a tragic death at the reservoir that day, which changes the kids and changes the town–as though they’ve finally crossed a line they were dancing very close to the edge of and there isn’t any turning back.

The willful and wild teens of the town have planned a surprise during the Founders’ Day parade which Quinn witnesses when the prank goes haywire, and she learns there’s a lot of anger directed at the town’s teenagers–the kids from above who have a Youtube channel where they film themselves playing pranks on people around town–and the idea is that the pranks have become dangerous and the kids are out of control. The next night there’s a party out in a cornfield, and that’s when the corn syrup company’s mascot, Frendo the Clown, shows up with a crossbow and the body count starts to rise.

I really enjoyed this book. It was well written and works very well on all of its multiple layers, from the basic story which is well paced and exciting, to the layers of social critique, satire, and politics that it also manages to be. I found myself caring about the main characters and rooting for them, and while I saw one major surprise coming way ahead of time, there were a lot of other shocks and surprises along the way that made up for the telegraphing.

There’s also a sequel now, and I am looking forward to the second installment. I think you’ll like it, too, Constant Reader, so give it a whirl–thank me later.

Little Jeannie

We have a new refrigerator, and it is marvelous in our eyes.

The delivery was actually two hours early and went incredibly smoothly. I did have to take the kitchen apart and rearrange a lot of things, which triggered the old your filing system is completely out of control and has been for quite time, and the duplicates, dear God, the duplicates. But having a new, working refrigerator (we really put up with the malfunctioning old one, which was never the same after whatever evacuation that was in 2008–Ike? Isaac? who knows. So, this kind of was the impetus for me to reorganize the cabinets, throw out a lot of stuff I didn’t even know I had (forcing me to recognize that I still have food hoarding issues), and do something constructive with the filing. This morning I am going to move the rest of the food over from the carriage house refrigerator, and make notes on what I need to get at the grocery store. My hope is to get that all done this morning, spend some time reading the Elizabeth Hand (which I am greatly enjoying), and then tackle the filing and get this under control once and for all.

And this is just a small step forward in a big journey I am taking–in which I need to organize and/or discard things I no longer need. I have more ideas than I will ever write about, or have the time to write; I get more ideas every fricking day. Do I really need to hold onto old file folders crammed full of ideas I don’t even remember that I have? And if I do remember it, and it turns into something–I will just create a new file rather than go look for the old. I should scan old contracts, shred tax returns, and who knows what kinds of treasures I may find in the files as they come together at long last? I’m still unsure of the system I am going to use, but I need to get all the things that are like each other together–files about Alabama, files about New Orleans and Louisiana, files about Kansas and California and Chicago and its suburbs and Houston and Florida and crime stories and all kinds of things; research versus actual fiction–book ideas v, short story ideas; fiction vs nonfiction–and so forth.

I also worked on the laundry room some, and also managed to watch a lot of football games–Alabama against Arkansas, Tennessee-Texas A&M, and finally Auburn-LSU. I still don’t know what to think about the conference race this year, other than both divisions go through Georgia and Alabama again this year, and I don’t see anyone beating Georgia during the regular season. Texas A&M’s loss at Tennessee is their second in conference and third overall; no division title or shot at the play-offs for them; yet they are a good team and can still play spoiler. Tennessee still has Alabama and Georgia and Kentucky. The West is pretty much still up for grabs, with Alabama in the catbird seat; still tied for first even if they somehow lose to LSU. I don’t know what happened to Auburn after the Georgia game–which they had a shot at winning–because that team didn’t show up in Tiger Stadium last night. LSU’s defense, which finally started playing at a higher level in the second half of last week’s Missouri game, looked really good…or was Auburn’s offense really that bad? I thought their defense was for real–but how good were they really, because they didn’t look like an elite SEC West defense last night. LSU does have an incredible offense, no mistake or question, but are they really forty-eight points on Auburn good? After Georgia escaped them with a 27-20 win on the plains? That’s why you play the games, people–anyone can win on any given Saturday.

I slept very well last night, which was awesome. I feel quite well rested this morning, and so today’s chores do not sound either ominous or terrible. The filing is indeed going to be a chore, as is moving the food back over and making two grocery runs, but better to get it all over with today, wouldn’t you think, so I can go home straight from work tomorrow? We’re having a “professional development day” that starts at City Park at ten in the morning, after which we go to Dillard for a presentation and then back to Ralph’s on the Park for another. Lunch and dinner are being provided, which means I am not going to be able to eat anything, most likely, which will be very unpleasant for me, I think, but I’ll deal with it. Tug is also settling in more–it’s very obvious that he knows he is home, and this is where he belongs. So bold, so curious, so playful, so adorable. He sleeps completely relaxed and sprawled out on whichever laps he chooses, and he’s started doing to Scooter thing where he’ll go back and forth between us for naps, which is adorable.

And he does love chasing the red dot.

He’s having particularly big kitten energy this morning, too.

And on that note, I am going to go start moving the food back over and making the grocery list. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; if not, then tomorrow.

Cars

This morning I get to go pick up my temporary teeth before heading into the office. It’s no longer a clinic day; I’d be covering Mondays for a colleague who’d had major surgery and he’s back now. I am also a little tired this morning. I slept really well last night but could have slept much longer, the physical and mental hangover from having driven so much this weekend. I left for Panama City Beach during half-time of the LSU-Missouri game; and given how LSU had been playing, you can imagine my delight when I checked the score when I stopped for gas to see that the Tigers had rallied to beat the other Tigers 49-39. The Saints destroyed the Patriots 34-0 while I was driving back yesterday; again, imagine my delight when I checked the score when I stopped for gas past Mobile (I try not to ever spend money in Mississippi, for any number of reasons. The same with Tennessee). So my teams apparently do better when I’m not able to watch, which is something I’ve suspected for quite some time.

This is a week of medical stuff–the teeth this morning, a heart sonogram on Wednesday morning, and something else entirely on Friday that I can’t think of. The MRI of my shoulder, I think? There are so many appointments and things going on while I am getting ready for this surgery that I am not even entirely sure I can keep track of them all–the anxiety roiling up from the depths again–but I am pretty sure I put everything on my calendar and I am resisting the urge to give into the anxiety and better check compulsively numerous times to be sure stage. I know I wrote everything down on my calendar; I will double-check that tonight when I get home from work, and that will be the end of it as far as that kind of anxiety and stress and pressure are concerned. I think I am doing a great job of controlling the anxiety by recognizing it and refusing to allow it to take control, but some days are definitely harder than others. I only got irritated several times on the drives this weekend–and I would say that those situations would have irritated any driver, even those without anxiety as a mental disorder.

I did get to listen to The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones, which I greatly enjoyed (more on that later) and Saturday before I left I read some more of Final Girls, which is starting to get rolling now–although it occurred to me in the car that I should have listened to the rest of Final Girls in the car and thus been able to move on to something else to read this week, but ah well, sometimes that’s how life goes. I was very tired when I got back to New Orleans last night–the drive was very smooth, with a few exceptions of stupidity along the way (I’m looking at you, Mobile tunnel) but I didn’t sleep great Saturday night after that drive, and so that’s why I’m dragging and a little the worse for lack of sleep. I also have a bit of a sore spot in my neck from sleeping wrong at some point over the last two nights, my guess being it was last night’s, combined with poor posture while driving. Tug also missed me; he spent most of last evening sleeping in my lap, but once he woke up he turned back into the terror Paul had described when I got home–knocking everything off every surface he climbed up onto; attacking my feet; chasing pens around the room–definitely some big kitten energy going on. Yeah, it’s a bit annoying, but at the same time it means he’s acclimated and knows he’s at home enough to feel safe to play and have fun and be a kitten, which is great. Maybe not when he’s walking all over my keyboard confidently like there’s nothing there, or when he’s trying to get whatever I am eating, but it’s great that he’s so comfortable in the house that he can be himself, and that’s always a good thing.

And now I get to spend the day trying to acclimate back to my every day existence, which isn’t always easy. Going away always is unsettling for me, and then I have to figure out how where I am at and what all else I have to get done and do and plan and so forth; which is another reason why having a to-do list is so vitally important; it helps me to re-acclimate to my reality after a break /interruption. I also can’t remember where I am with things at the office, either. Yay? But I need to get to the office and get some things done today–and as my coffee is kicking in and clearing the cobwebs out of my dusty brain, I am starting to feel more motivated than I was before I left; I think maybe knowing that the weekend was causing me some anxiety subconsciously which undermined (self-sabotaged) my attempts last week to get things handled and done and under control.

One of the lovely things about driving long trips like this weekend is that my mind wanders and I think about things; the ability to keep up with an audiobook while my mind sifts through problems and unties the Gordian knots of confusion and self-delusion in my mind has been truly wonderful. While in the car this weekend I was thinking back to what all I had gotten done and accomplished since the start of the pandemic disruption (and yes, I know I am not unique and it has happened to everyone), the general sense of “I am not getting anything done” and “when I am writing I’m not enjoying it” which has been unsettling me and keeping me off-balance since March 2020 (hard to believe it’s been almost four years, isn’t it?), but on the other hand, professionally the pandemic was actually very good to me. I got a substantial raise and promotion at my day job; I got nominated for a shit ton of awards over the last couple of years, and sure, I think there was a significant gap in publishing–from Royal Street Reveillon in the fall of 2018 until Bury Me in Shadows was about a three year gap now, wasn’t it? That in and of itself is the longest gap in my publishing career, but then I came on like gangbusters in 2022 with #shedeservedit, A Streetcar Named Murder, and Land of 10000 Thrills (Bouchercon anthology), and of course have two back-to-back releases this fall with Mississippi River Mischief and Death Drop. I was also publishing short stories during the 2018-2021 interregnum, and I was working on a multitude of other writing projects during that time in addition to the books that wound up being released in fits and spurts since 2021; I still find it hard to believe I went that long between books–maybe I’m forgetting something? But I don’t think I actually am; I am terrible about remembering everything I’ve written and published, and always forget things. But at first I was disappointed in myself to think I’d gone that long between books before silencing that negativity, and then I nipped that in the bud. There’s no disgrace in admitting that the pandemic knocked me for a loop and off-balance; I’m not the only person this happened to, and it takes a massive life disruption to slow down my writing–which is pretty impressive.

It’s hard to stay positive as it goes against my brain’s wiring, but I am getting better.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Monday be just as lovely as you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

Funky Town

Up early to head over to the West Bank to get my oil changed before heading to the panhandle this afternoon. My life is really a non-stop thrill ride, isn’t it?

I was grumpy yesterday, partly because I knew I wouldn’t be able to be productive over the course of this weekend which is of course silly on its face; why be irritated about something you have no control over? It is what it is, and I promised to do this and I want to see my dad, so I don’t know why I was feeling grumpy about the whole thing. I’m trying not to let things I cannot control hold sway over my emotions, my mood and my life anymore; as you can see, it’s not going 100% better–but I have to say overall I feel better about everything on a daily basis a lot more. I’ve not really been writing–using the excuse of this weekend’s trip to justify not doing so, but …there were two options. Try to write, knowing I’d have to take a break this weekend and get something done; or just blow it off and let my brain rest. Since the writing was not coming easily and felt like pulling teeth, it probably was just as well I wasn’t feeling motivated because that feeling turns into disgust and depression if the writing doesn’t go well, so I have to be careful with that sort of thing. But I was able to read some more of the Riley Sager, which I am enjoying, and of course I’ll get to listen to Stephen Graham Jones in the car on the way over there and back. My mind also wanders when I drive, even as I am listening, and I come up with ideas and things while i am behind the wheel of the car. I-10 east isn’t a fun drive, but at least I don’t have to go all the way to Lake City in eastern Florida in order to catch a highway south, thank you baby Jesus.

Clearly, the best day and time of the week to get my car serviced is Saturday mornings at seven. I left the house just before seven this morning, drove over there, got the car serviced and paid for it, then made a quick grocery making run on Manhattan Boulevard and walked back into the house with the grocery bags at about eight thirty this morning. There was little to no traffic, and since I can’t eat anything solid yet, there was no reason to stop at either Sonic or Five Guys on the way home (not that they were open yet, and if they were, they’d be serving breakfast, shudder). That went so smoothly–and yes, believe you me, I was feeling some anxiety as I walked out to the car this morning–that I am now beginning to wonder if letting myself sleep in on the weekends rather than setting the alarm for six to get up like I do every day of the week….I mean, I am awake and feeling functional right now, which is more than I can usually say at this time when I’ve allowed myself to sleep in a bit. (Tug also is used to being fed when I get up at six, so needless to say, he was having some Big Kitten Energy this morning as I kept hitting snooze.) It was also a lovely morning out–it was only sixty-nine degrees outside, which felt amazing; we’re obviously having a cold snap–and I also took a different exit since there was so little traffic; I stayed on 90 and got off at Camp Street instead of Tchoupitoulas, which brought me up Magazine–which I’ve not really drive up in a very long time–at least not since the office moved in 2018. It’s also very different down there, so I am going to need to walk around and explore that part of the neighborhood at some point.

LSU is playing at Missouri today; Missouri is undefeated but not ranked very highly, but there’s no telling how the game will turn out. It depends on which LSU teams shows up, I reckon. I think I’m going to be leaving around noon, so I can catch the beginning of the game and have an idea of how it’s going to go before Dad texts me and I depart on my four and a half hour journey into the heart of the panhandle; the belly of the beast, as it were. I read some more of the Sager novel in the waiting room of the dealership this morning; I’m enjoying it, for sure, but it has a bit of a slow start because of the necessary exposition and back story; I’ve gotten to the place where the present-day narrative is really starting to take off, so I imagine it will read like a brush fire now. Alabama is also at Texas A&M; I think Alabama has found its groove now and is most likely going to win out the season. Plus, I really hate Jimbo Fisher–I’ve hated him since he was at Florida State, and let’s not forget what he did to that program before getting his big payday at A&M (which he has yet to earn).

We finished off this season of Only Murders in the Building, which wrapped up the case of the Broadway show murder and ended with yet another murder in the building which is the set-up for the next season. I doubt Meryl Streep will return for another season, but hey, you never know. We also watched this week’s Ahsoka, but my mind was drifting a lot. I’m not sure if that was the season finale; I thought last week’s could have served as the finale, to be honest. But Our Flag Means Death is back, so we can watch that tomorrow when I get back (yay!) and something else has also dropped a new season for us to watch, but I’m not sure what it is at the moment.

And on that note, I am going to pack and start doing the last minute things I need to get done before I depart. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader–I may not be back here until Monday, so try to go on without me.

She’s Just An Old Love Turned Memory

It literally just dawned on me that I will have two books out this fall, releasing in consecutive months. The cover for the one I’ve not talked about much is being revamped, so I had to delay sharing the post where I talk about the book (want to share with the actual cover rather than a simulation, of course), but yeah: I have a book out in October and then Mississippi River Mischief drops in November (pushed back from September because, well, life happened), how cool is that? Last night as I was driving home in the hellish heat (the few days of highs in the 90’s, that tragic temperature serving as a respite for the rest of the summer) I realized, you know, if you don’t feel like doing anything when you get home, you don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to work on a book, I don’t have to do anything unless I actually want to–which is hardly motivational. It also was warmer in the apartment when I got home, so I turned on the fans again and the portable coolers and that was that.

I spent most of the evening watching football highlights–August is when I prep for college football every year–and wondering about how LSU is going to fare this season. There’s a lot of hype for them–something we’ve not seen since 2019, frankly, and even then they over-performed by a long shot, and that has me a bit concerned. I have no doubt LSU will be better this year than they were last year, but all this hype-talk makes me a bit nervous. Their schedule is incredibly tough (although Auburn and Florida come to Baton Rouge this fall, and LSU’s last three national titles came in seasons where that happened), but this is also the last season of SEC football as we’ve come to know it since the last expansion, when Missouri and Texas A&M joined. Next year Texas and Oklahoma join, the conference realignments settle in, and college football will never be the same again. I don’t know how i feel about this stuff, to be completely honest. The college football I grew up watching hasn’t existed in a very long time–I remember when ABC exclusively held the TV rights for all NCAA football, so there would be one big game that aired every Saturday and then a local game of some importance–and that was it. When you look at the plethora of games to pick and choose from to watch on Saturdays in the fall now, and can remember pre-1980’s college football, it’s kind of wild.

I booked an appointment with the specialist yesterday. I didn’t get into this very much the other day, because I was frustrated and angry, but basically when I injured my left arm last January? I tore the biceps muscle. I saw my primary care doctor three days later for my biannual check-up, and he didn’t think it was anything. Flash forward to July’s biannual check-up, and now “oh yes, that’s torn, you need to see an orthopedic surgeon.” Well, it turns out that they do require surgery to repair–but it needs to be done, at most, within six weeks of the injury–you know, like when I saw my primary care physician three days after it happened? As such, the specialist he referred me to–whom I liked very much–didn’t feel comfortable performing the surgery because so much time had passed, and he referred me to a specialist at the Tulane Institute of Sports Medicine. I made the appointment yesterday, and here’s hoping we can get the surgery scheduled for sometime this fall. (The chances of full recovery, by the way, also are significantly reduced the more time that passes, so thanks again, primary care physician, whom I will never be seeing again.) So, yes, I have a big fall planned. I am getting my eyes examined on my way to the airport this coming Wednesday; I am getting fitted for hearing aids this Sunday, and I am getting my teeth fixed when I return from Bouchercon. Woo-hoo! Seriously, the excitement around here never stops. I also realized that I only have to go into the office twice this coming week before I leave for San Diego…so I probably should spend some time this weekend preparing.

I know what books I am taking with me to read on the flights there and back. I also figured out that I’ll probably get home in time to catch the final quarter of LSU’s season opener, so I will of course be checking the score regularly as I fly back to New Orleans. I am sharing the Dallas-San Diego legs with Carsen Taite, which will be a lot of fun. (I am getting Whataburger at Dallas Love and at some point whilst in California, I better get to go to In ‘n’ Out Burger.) I have a lot to do this weekend to prep. I am moderating a panel–asked to fill in at the last moment) so I need to reach out to my panelists and apologize for being so tardy to reach out, and start pulling the panel itself together. I need to write this weekend, or at least I should, but there’s a lot of other stuff I have to get done this weekend, too. I really should take the car in for an oil change tomorrow before I leave town, for one thing, and it won’t kill me, either. I can also make groceries while on the West Bank. I think I may just take the weekend as it comes and not put any pressure on myself. I need to make an updated to-do list, for sure, but I am really pleased that I conquered my anxiety to get all those appointments made.

I also had anxiety about moderating this panel, but the nice thing now is I can shrug off the panic as “oh, that’s just your anxiety trying to make you miserable” and you know what? That actually works! Oh, how I wish I had known this wasn’t normal years ago and had seen it for what it really is, because now I can come up with true coping mechanisms and work-arounds to keep it at bay. It was so freeing saying that to myself last night; the moment I said it, the power of the anxiety was defeated and I am no longer worried about how the panel will go. Like how I get anxious and put off making medical/dental appointments. It’s just anxiety, and making the calls isn’t horrible. None of this stuff is truly terrible, but my mind makes it that way.

We also started watching Swamp Kings last night, about the Urban Meyer years at Florida (he was 3-3 against LSU), which was interesting. We’ll keep watching; the first episode takes them through the 2005 season and up to the Auburn loss in 2006. (Spoiler: that would be their only loss and they’d beat Ohio State for the national championship.) I told you, I’m trying to get warmed up for football season!

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may check in with you again later.

The Itchy Glowbo Blow

Wednesday and we’ve made it halfway through the week, Constant Reader. Didn’t think it was quite possible, did you, when Monday dawned so early and ugly? We expecting thunderstorms today in New Orleans–it feels cooler and damp this morning, but I don’t know when we are supposed to have said storms; probably this afternoon. I slept really well again last night–it’s been lovely getting good sleep lately. I felt a bit tired yesterday when I got home from work, and so took it a little easier on myself when I got home. I managed to get caught up on my emails (such a weird feeling) and did some writing last night. I think I’m still a bit in the post-book malaise phase of things, so writing anything isn’t easy (not that it ever is) but Paul got home late so was left to my own devices once I finished writing for the evening. I did watch some documentaries on Youtube about the Hapsburgs last night (I also discovered an English-language biography about her–Margaret of Austria–which I added to the my list of books to buy…which is almost as out of control as my TBR stack, which is now essentially the entire living room), and I read a short story in Hitchcock’s My Favorites in Suspense anthology; a dark little Charlotte Armstrong story called “The Enemy.” Armstrong was a writer I discovered as a tween, when Mom let me join the Mystery Guild Book Club; I got an omnibus by her (The Witch’s House, Mischief, The Dream Walker) which I greatly enjoyed. I rediscovered Armstrong thanks to the work of both Sarah Weinman and Jeffrey Marks, which enabled me to continue reading in her canon.

Armstrong won an Edgar for Best Novel for A Dram of Poison, a charming if dark little story of suspense; maybe the rare Edgar winner where there’s no dead body but the plot has to do with preventing an accidental death? It’s very clever, and incredibly charming, but beneath that clever charming surface it says something dark and awful about human nature and character–people who are unhappy spreading their misery to others. Armstrong was also made a Grand Master by Mystery Writers of America. Her work may seem a bit dated in the modern day–technology and society have moved on from the times she lived and wrote in–but I think it’s well worth the read. “The Enemy” is that same style of writing as Dram, a serious subject presented charmingly, and the death of a child’s dog the catalyst for an exposé of something darker and nastier…and yes, the plot also hinges on the darkness a human being is capable of creating. It’s a really clever, if slightly dated, story–and you can’t help but smile or laugh at the last line of the story. I am really enjoying these time capsules into the past, to tell you the truth. I bought a few more of these anthologies on eBay yesterday, too. It’s nice to have short story collections around for those times when my brain can’t really focus on reading an entire novel.

I have been listening to Carol Goodman’s The Drowning Tree on Audible, but I may have to break down and finish actually reading a physical copy because I can’t keep listening every day and with my memory a literal thing of the past these days, I’m not sure I remember enough of the story to pick it up again this weekend. I also picked up copies of her new novel, The Bones of the Story, along with Paul Tremblay’s new short story collection, The Beast You Are. I do like Tremblay’s writing–A Head Full of Ghosts was one of the best horror novels of the last decade, and I’ve liked everything else of his that I’ve read–and I think this may even be his second collection. I am also hoping to pull together another collection myself this year–This Town and Other Macabre Stories–but I am not sure if I will have the time. I also got the copy edits for a short story I contributed to an anthology in my inbox last night, so that has to go onto the to-do list, and I still have page proofs to get through. But for the most part, it seems as though I have a guilt-free free weekend, which one can never truly go wrong with, either. I’ll have some errands to run, of course–I always have errands to run–but there’s no stress or pressure on me either, which is kind of nice. I think maybe that’s the reason I’ve been sleeping so well this week? No pressure and my schedule has kind of normalized, gotten back to normal, settled back into the routine my body is used to, perhaps?

Yes, that makes total sense to me.

I also have ideas and thoughts pinging around in my head. I’m itching to get back to the works I have in progress; I want to get a strong first draft of two different novels finished before I leave for Bouchercon next (!!!) month. I actually, finally, made a to-do list yesterday; I am hoping that I can get my life back on track the way it was before the pandemic and the madness of the last few years. That doesn’t mean that my blood pressure won’t continue to go up predicated on the constant assaults on everyone who’s not a cisgender straight man from the demons on the right–which is part of the reason my interest in the Civil War and the 1850’s, that terrible lead-up to the split, has been heightened these last few months. I do see a lot of similarities in the split between conservative v. progressive today, which was predicated along the lines of abolitionist/pro-human trafficking back then. One of the books my father gave me to read was called Southerners in Blue, which was a novelization of the true story (albeit poorly written) of a Union sympathizer and others like him in Winston County, Alabama. (If you’re not familiar with Winston County, the easiest way to explain it is this county did not vote for secession and essentially stated that if Alabama had the right to secede from the Union, the county had the right to secede from Alabama. They did not secede from Alabama, just said they had the right to predicated on the secession arguments being presented, but have gone down in Alabama history and lore as having actually seceded even though they most certainly did not) Basically, in some of the northern counties of Alabama there was basically a second civil war, between the “secesh” and the “Unionist” supporters, and the mountains of north Alabama were filled with deserters from the Confederate Army, This was also novelized into a book called Tories of the Hills by Wesley Sylvester Thompson, which is incredibly rare (my uncle has a copy, which my aunt won’t let be removed from her house–wise, as I would totally steal it). I had read another book also while I was up there, about the Kansas-Missouri border war–which had a decided “secesh” slant to it, of course, while complaining that all previous histories were “unsympathetic to the Missouri slave-owner point of view”. I’m sure he had a point, but simply because there are two sides to every story doesn’t mean each side deserves to be heard, or that each side’s opinion has equal weight. It did spark my interest, though, and I really think there’s a book in this little-known history of north Alabama. Again, it would be difficult to write–lots of potential landmines there–but it’s also, as I said, not very well known and with today’s tribalism mentality–not to mention how loud the Lost Cause fanatics are–it’s hard to wrap one’s mind around the notion that the South wasn’t monolithic in its thinking.

Because no group of people are, really, which is why I don’t like being asked for a gay perspective on anything; I can only speak for myself.

But while I continue to research this aspect of history and try to figure out a way to get a novel out of it, I am going to map out two others. One is already in progress, and the other is a New Orleans ghost story I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time now. The trick is to make it different from every other ghost story I’ve already written. Good luck with that, Mr. Repetitive!

Heavy heaving sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

Grail Overfloweth

Work-at-home Friday morning, and I have some errands to do in a moment before I do my work-at-home duties. Or maybe I’ll do it later…wait, it’s summer again, so earlier is better but not by much in New Orleans. I was very tired when I got home last night from work–not sure why; I think the heat and humidity sapped my energy on my way into the house from the car (seriously, that’s all it takes) but I did get some of the laundry going. I slept really well last night, which was marvelous, despite waking up before seven yet again. I stayed in bed for a while though, just relaxing and luxuriating in the comfort until I decided that coffee was sounding good and it was time for me to get up. But now I am awake, sipping said coffee, and really looking forward to my three-day weekend. I have to revise a manuscript (as always) but that’s it; and I don’t think this is going to be as hard as the last one. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but whatever works. I’m not dreading it at all, which is a significant change from the past.

We watched The Other Two–this season’s not quite as good as previous–and another episode of The Crowded Room. I think I’ve already figured out what’s going on, two episodes in, but it’s a slow burn show; and it’s not easy to figure out what is going on. It’s extremely well cast, and everything about the show is top notch, but the story itself is being played out a little too slowly? Maybe the pacing will pick up as the show goes, but I worry–as we have noted with other series; the need to fill out eight or ten episodes often leads to a lot of filler and sidetracked episodes that don’t advance the story. That’s a story-telling problem fairly unique to the streaming services–sometimes shorter is better. Not everything needs to be eight or ten episodes long. Tom Holland is really good in this–I think he’s a much better actor than given credit for; but playing a Marvel super-hero stacks the odds against him (although I think he does a good job playing Peter Parker) when it comes to praise for acting and awards. (I thought he was brilliant in Cherry, but no nominations for anything.)

My desk area is a mess and so is this kitchen, so I’m probably going to spend a little time cleaning up around here after finishing this. I am my mother’s son, after all, and now that I have gotten some of the authorial pressure off me, maybe I can spend some more time cleaning up this place and reading and relaxing and so on. I really want to finish the book I’m reading, and I have some absolutely amazing ones on deck to get to–with even more coming out the rest of the summer. I will never get caught up on my reading, will I? Ah, well. I can listen to Carol Goodman on my drive up north in a couple of weeks, and on the way home, too. I’ve not taken an entire week off in a very long time, so that, too, is going to be weird. I am going up to meet Dad in Alabama for their anniversary, and then we’ll convoy back up to Kentucky. I should be able to finish a Carol Goodman on the way up as well as one on the way back.

God, and football season is looming again. What kind of season with the Saints and LSU have? There seems to be a lot of excitement around our new quarterback, Derek Carr (a fellow alum of Fresno State), so there’s no telling. There’s also a lot of expectation for LSU this season, after their remarkable turnaround last year under first year coach Brian Kelly; I’m going to not over-anticipate so as not to be horribly disappointed. Can LSU beat Alabama two years in a row? That’s a feat that only two coaches have accomplished in consecutive seasons–Les Miles at LSU (2010-2011) and Hugh Freeze at Mississippi (2014-2015). Freeze is now the Auburn head coach, and in 2024 Texas and Oklahoma join the SEC (LSU plays host to Oklahoma that year, I think; while Alabama goes to Norman and also gets to host Georgia). College football has changed so dramatically from when I was a kid…I of course remember when the SEC was merely ten teams, before Arkansas and South Carolina were added to make twelve, and Texas A&M and Missouri were added to make fourteen in 2011. It’ll be an entertaining season, to say the least. (In 2024, LSU also goes to play USC in Los Angeles, and UCLA comes to Baton Rouge. LSU doesn’t have an easy schedule that season…)

Okay, time to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday before the holiday weekend, Constant Reader, and I’ll most likely be back again at some point soon.

Street Fighting Man

Saturday and all is calm within the Lost Apartment, at least so far this morning–who know what will happen later? One can never really be certain.

Heavy sigh. My dryer stopped heating yesterday–a tragedy was averted when I remembered that there was a working dryer in the carriage house so I could dry everything over there, which beats taking it to a laundromat–but rather than let that get me down or upset me at all, I figured out a solution (see sentence between dashes above) and went on with my day. I got my work-at-home duties done around doing some organizing and cleaning in the kitchen/office (I discovered more MWA stuff that can be archived and filed away) and did the dishes, making the kitchen sort of bearable to look at. I got some writing done, which was marvelous, and figured out why my printer kept jamming and fixed it (clearly, it was a solution-driven day for one Gregalicious around the Lost Apartment), so I no longer need to continue looking for a new printer/scanner/copier, which was really super great. (Especially since we now appear to be in the market for a new dryer, damn it all to hell. I think I can probably fix it–its probably a fuse, but the laundry room is really too small and inconvenient to get behind the dryer and try to remove or fix anything; I may give it a try later today to see what can be done. There’s a Lowe’s near the office I can run to after work on Monday if it’s indeed something I myself can handle–and wouldn’t it be easier and cheaper to replace a fuse rather than having to order a new one and have it delivered, making arrangements for me to be on hand for it to arrive and everything? Augh. I kept hoping it would fix itself miraculously to no avail. Heavy heaving sigh.

I slept very well again last night and even slept in a little bit this morning. I’m not sure exactly what changed with the sleep situation around here, but it’s nice. Scooter got me up at seven whining for food, but I went back to bed and fell right back asleep for another hour and a half. I feel rested and relaxed and centered this morning, which is nice. I do have to go pick up groceries I ordered today but other than that I don’t really have to leave the house. It’s gray out there this morning and it feels chilly inside–I turned the heat off yesterday because it was a bit stuffy in the house, but I don’t mind a bit of a chill, seriously. My coffee tastes marvelous this morning, and I do need to get a lot of writing done today–I got some done yesterday but not nearly enough–and of course I think my Saturday morning ritual of doing some reading before starting to write is probably a good idea. I think I am going to finish reading Other Horrors this morning and perhaps tomorrow, and then maybe start in on The Last King of California or one of the myriad of cozies I have on hand. I know I want to read the Edgar finalists I have on hand that I’ve not yet read, too.

After watching the LSU gymnastics meet against Missouri (Tigers win! Geaux Tigers!) and this week’s Servant over on Apple TV (which is really interesting), we decided to give That 90’s Show a whirl on Netflix for a bit of nostalgia. (We watched early seasons of That 70’s Show before finally giving up as it got stale) and actually kind of enjoyed it. The kids are appealing, and who knew Red and Kitty were the anchors of the original show so much so that they could anchor the reboot, too? All they need is goofy hormonal teenagers to play off and you have a show. We only have three episodes left to watch, and while it wasn’t high art by any means, it was enjoyable and entertaining enough–who needs more than that on a Friday night after a long week of reentry into reality? I kind of want to watch The Pale Blue Eye at some point over this weekend.

I’m also trying very hard not to get too giddy over how easy it is for me to deal with my emails now. I’m still not used to it, nor am I used to taking a break from doing anything and not feeling guilty about the massive to-do I’ve yet to master/conquer. (Note to self: you need to make a new one to work on) But while I was working at home yesterday and working around the dryer issue, I also managed to get the kitchen–notably my desk area–back under control, which was a very good thing. I still have more organizing and filing to do, but it’s not the enormous task now that it was yesterday morning, and I am looking forward to having it completely under control today. I was also looking through all the drafts here of my blog and am thinking a good goal for this spring would be to get them all finished and posted. I need to do some more blatant self-promotion for A Streetcar Named Murder too; I am curious, though, as to what else I can do to do New Orleans promotional posts that tie into the book somehow. Hmmmm. Maybe I need to look through the book again? Might be something to do later on after I get my writing for the day finished.

And on that note, I heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Of Thee I Sing

This is a weird 4th of July for me.

It’s always been a strange holiday for me, having grown up as an outsider drenched in Americana and taught American mythology rather than US history. (The more I use the word American to describe things that really only involve the US the less comfortable I am with it, particularly as I grow older. It’s simply a shorthand, obviously, for the much more awkward “US citizens,” but its use erases the fact that Canadians, Mexicans, and those from Central and South America are also Americans, and others them to US citizens. USAmericans also is an awkward construction. And can people of non-indigenous descent have a right to call themselves Americans in the first place? Once you start parsing, it’s a bottomless well.) It isn’t really our nation’s birthday, either–it’s Independence Day; the anniversary of the day the Declaration of Independence was ratified. Our actual national birthday is the date the Constitution was ratified and we actually became the United States from the thirteen colonies–and after the British defeat at Yorktown and the Peace of Paris, we actually were thirteen independent states in a loose alliance with each other for self-protection, and it was entirely possible those states might not have ever unified into a single nation. That was the real miracle of our nation’s founding–that, and the fact that thirteen disunited colonies who agreed on very little somehow took on the largest and most powerful global empire the world have ever seen and managed to defeat them–without checking I cannot be entirely sure, but it might be the only war the British Empire lost before it’s post-World War II collapse.

So, this year’s celebration is a bit muted. We are losing our freedoms and our rights–losing them to a bizarre political coalition that claims they are the real Americans, what they believe is the only way to believe and/or think about politics and the country, who scream and whine and protest about their freedoms and their liberties as cover for the fact they want to steal the freedoms and liberties–and citizenship–of people who do not agree with them. We have a “supreme court” that uses the Constitution, and almost 250 years of precedent and decided law, to wipe their asses with because it doesn’t really fit their vision of a theocratic nation ruled by a minority that forces the majority to put up with their bullshit because they have gerrymandered, legislated, and ruled in such a way as to entrench their power. This has happened before, of course–it always has happened before (which is why our lack of interest and education about our short national history is so deliberately encouraged; so we won’t learn from the mistakes of the past)–and I feel like we are living in a situation very similar to that in which the country was in between 1850 and 1861: an extremely loud and belligerent minority had been controlling and running the country since almost the beginning, in defense of a completely indefensible belief that it was okay for white Americans to either own people with differently hued skin, or to kill them with impunity. The slavery supporters had packed the Supreme Court with their supporters, and the compromises over the admissions of MIssouri and Kansas to the union were fraught because the slave states saw they were in danger of being outnumbered and thus losing their hold on the government.

And now this illegitimate body currently sitting on our highest court–deciding law for a majority even though most of them were appointed by presidents who didn’t win the popular vote–has started legislating from the bench under the guiding conservative principle that “it’s for each state to decide”–abortion rights, same sex marriage, racial equality, etc.

Because that worked so well with slavery?

The entire point of a federal, centralized government is to have the final say on law and rights; the Constitution also makes it very clear that the laws of one state should be honored by the others. But the framers of the Constitution also knew that there would be times when one state’s laws would come into conflict with another’s, and the federal government would have to decide which law was Constitutional–as they both might or might not be; but the idea was the law that restricted or prohibited rights more would be the one thrown out. This balancing act, naturally, was already in trouble because of slavery; a free state could not be forced to recognize the property rights laws of a slave state, and a slave state would never recognize the laws of a free state that outlawed slavery outright. The conflict and battle between states’ rights and the Federal government was baked into the document from the beginning, because the Southern states refused to give up their right to own people in a nation that was predicated on freedom and equality of all men.

The notion that a state like Texas could criminalize abortion (or anything) to the extent they have, and that they expect pro-choice states to not only comply with their laws but turn over documents and accused violators of said law is just the Fugitive Slave Act all over again: conservative states are all about federalism when it comes to enforcing their own laws…but will scream “States’ rights!” to protect their own.

The cognitive dissonance it must require to be a conservative astounds me sometimes.

I’ve spent most of my life with my sex life making me a criminal in almost every state in which I lived. Lawrence v. Texas guaranteed that the government had no right to tell me who I could sleep with and what I could do in my bedroom with that consenting adult. I remember the day that decision came down; it was something I never thought I would see in my own lifetime. One of the things I was trying to recapture (am trying to recapture, really) in “Never Kiss a Stranger” is that sense of criminality; of how it felt to be a sexual outlaw; how every time you went into a gay bar you knew there was a chance the place would be raided by the police–or that every time you left a gay bar you were in danger from the police until you made it safely home. It wasn’t something conscious you’d think about back in those days, but it was always there in the back of your mind. Gay bars inevitably (with the exception of the French Quarter in New Orleans, the Castro on San Francisco, West Hollywood, and the village, among others) were in a sketchy part of town, and often they were own by the Mob for money-laundering purposes. The marriage between the gay bars and the Mob was an uneasy one, of course–a marriage of convenience. The Mob needed to launder their money, bars are an excellent way to do so, and the Mob could also pay off the cops to prevent raids–a corruption-go-round, if you will. (Gay bar raids inevitably wound up being extortion for corrupt cops to get more bribe money from the mob…this weird marriage between criminals–gay men and the Mob–is something I want to explore in fiction more. And the police, for the record, have never been friends or allies to my community; quite the obverse, in fact.)

I should make a note to reread this next year on the 4th of July. Will things be better or worse? My money’s on worse.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines.