Tag: newsletter

Little Paradise

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

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

It had been a hot minute, for real.

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

Thank you, medication.

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

Seriously.

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

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

So Sincere

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well–at least so far. 🙂 Today, all I have to do is swing by the Latter Library to drop off books to the book sale and stop at the Fresh Market on my way home from the library. It rained last night (I know, surprise) and I slept well,. I also slept a little later this morning because I was very tired last night because I had to get up at six to go to the office for a meeting. After that I had to run some errands (lab work, mail, groceries) before heading home to do my work and clean. I did manage to get some cleaning done–I got the bed linens and a load of laundry done, and did some picking up and organizing while season one of The Traitors played in the background. We also watched Pillion last night, and while I was appreciative of the attempt made by the film to show that kind of a relationship, it didn’t click with me and I kind of found it to be a bit dull–which is not something you want with a movie about sub/dom. I hadn’t wanted to see it, despite its subject matter (something spicy and gay–and yes, much as I hate using the word spicy to describe sex, it kind of works) because a good friend who is more knowledgeable and experienced with dom/sub relationships had hated it; which told me everything I needed to know about whether I should watch or not. They were right, too–I disliked the movie and thought it was kind of dull; I appreciated the attempt, though. Years ago it wouldn’t have been made, so there’s that. Progress? Maybe?

After I finished working yesterday I wrote a lot last night. One of my major problems with self-destructive mental patterns is that I don’t consider anything to be actually “writing” unless I’ve written some fiction. But last night as I sat in my chair, I wrote a lot in my journal, and it wasn’t just free flowing stream of consciousness stuff while my mind wandered. I actually planned out several short stories and novellas (already in progress, but I rarely do a lot of prep work for short stories, which could be the problem), which felt great–I rarely work out the stories and plots and usually just have an idea and start typing and hoping my brain keeps going. Just typing that made me see the absolute failure of logic there and maybe I just rewired my brain. I’ve filled almost an entire journal with my scribblings since I started a new one several weeks ago…which is a lot of fucking writing that I don’t count, as well as the blog and newsletter. Maybe this is why I am called prolific so much? I just scoff when people say that because I always think I can do more.

Learn to accept a compliment, Gregalicious.

I think I will probably take things a bit slow today–at least this morning, at any rate–because I do feel a bit tired. I need to take boxes of books to the library sale, stop by Fresh Market, and pick up the mail. Oh! One of my errands yesterday was also to pick up the new Lev Rosen, The Disaster Gay Detective Agency, which I’m hoping to read after I finish All of Us Murderers. I am also behind on his Andy Mills series; I still have the last two to go. I am going to spend some time reading this morning, and we’ll see how the day goes. I am a little worn down from the week, but I made it through the week without feeling tired or worn out or exhausted or fatigued. This morning feels like I’m on accessory power while my batteries recharge–and the errands aren’t going to help much, I don’t think. I also want to run by the dry cleaners and drop some things off that have been in the living room since the Festivals–it’s funny how you dump things in a chair and think oh, I’ll get to that later only to lose track of days and weeks and suddenly that stuff has been sitting there for months. I hope there’s no afterlife because Mom would be judging the fuck out of me!

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close, get more coffee, and adjourn to my easy chair where I can check out the news and read for a bit before getting cleaned up to run my errands. I hope you have a fabulous day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, bright-eyed and rested and a-rarin’ to go.

Yes, great body and all, but I think he’s got a handsome face and I love that half-smile.

You Better Run

Friday morning and I am up early yet again to head into the office for a meeting, after which I can come home before I head to have labs done at two different places (one is an actual blood draw–Labcorp–and the other is to drop off a sample at Quest…and they are both in the same building, thank you Baby Jesus) before coming home and settling in for a day of work-at-home duties as well as cleaning chores. I was a little spacy yesterday morning as it got later, but it was more about being hungry (I’m still getting used to how it feels to be hungry, as it’s not something I’ve experienced much, but that’s a tale for another time.)

I did write and send out a newsletter yesterday, about queer bookstores and how much I miss them, which you read by clicking here. I’ve also finished my entry on A Violent Masterpiece, which I set to go out on July 1, after Pride month has ended–because all I’m doing in the newsletter this month is being gay gay gay. What can I say? Isn’t it a requirement that I shove my sexuality down the throats of the poor, sad, pathetic homophobes or thirty days? I mean, it is one of my favorite times of the year, precisely for that reason. It’s so tiring though, watching the trash be homophobic with their tired whines and complaints; can’t you lazy fucks come up with something new? Christ on the cross, already. Get better writers.

I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home yesterday–I ran an errand on the way home, too–and did a few chores once I got home, but once I was ensconced into my easy chair, I felt a bit worn out. I didn’t have any issues getting up this morning, and I feel rested and good; who could ask for anything more? The day will get a little hectic once I leave here and start running around town, but soon enough I’ll be home and doing my quality assurance work, which I am very behind on. I dug out my to-do notebook this morning, and there was quite a bit for me to cross off, which was lovely. I think the used up pages are due to be removed, though. I am going to try to be better this weekend about being productive and getting things done. I am itching to write some fiction–I’ve got to stop letting the pressure of the newsletter to get under my skin in my subconscious; the only person who’s disappointed when I don’t finish one and send it out is me, so…

We started watching a documentary series, Bring Me the Beauties, which is a bizarre story about a man who believed he was an alien, started a cult, and was connected to male modeling, especially a model whose professional name was Hoyt Richards. This is new to me; I’d not heard that story before, so it was interesting, and then we started watching a new show on Apple, Cape Fear, obviously based on the previous films and the book (The Executioners by John D. MacDonald), and it has both an excellent cast and is very well produced. I don’t know why we need a series to tell the story again, but streamers hedge their bets with using already existing IPs, don’t they? It’s really good, and I am looking forward to watching more–as well as getting through The Boroughs and other things we are currently watching. We also need to finish The Comeback, and some other things we’ve started. I’ll probably put on another season of The Traitors in the background while I work and clean today.

I actually am feeling good this morning, now that the coffee is kicking in. There’s something to getting up earlier, isn’t there? Well, let’s hope this holds through the entire weekend!

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

The temple of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel, at night. Gorgeous.

If You Think You Know How to Love Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Maria

Thursday morning and my last day in the office before a glorious three day weekend, which is lovely. It rained overnight–it started raining just as I got home from the office yesterday, and then off and on all night. It even rained a bit this morning while I was washing my face and doing the usual morning ablutions. I’m not even sure what the day’s weather forecast is! Although it would be lovely to have rain all weekend, wouldn’t it? I ran some errands after work on the way home yesterday and had some things delivered last night in the sprinkling, and I even did some chores when I got home before I plopped down into my easy chair with Sparky in my lap for the evening. I felt pretty good all day yesterday (I feel good this morning too–I’m getting used to getting up at six again), and probably could have done some more last night, but I am done berating myself for not getting everything done that I want to anymore. I am going to try to not be overly ambitious this weekend; if I am productive, great; if I just get rested, that’s also fine. I want to finish Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece, and dip into my reread of The Ivy Tree by Mary Stewart. I also need to get a newsletter ready to go for Saturday; my latest one went out yesterday; click here to read!1

I also have to run make groceries and get the mail uptown before I make it home for the weekend. Tomorrow morning I have to have labs drawn for my GI specialist, and have an online meeting before my quality assurance work. The apartment is a mess, but not nearly as bad as it was going into last weekend–I’ve managed to pretty much keep up with the chores this week, thank God; so tonight when I get home I have laundry to fold and a dishwasher to unload. I also have a recipe for tomato cucumber salad I want to try (it seems silly to have a recipe for salad, doesn’t it), which sounds amazing, and I also want to pick up a watermelon tonight.

After I settled into my easy chair, we finished The Boys and caught this week’s episode of Widow’s Bay, which is really wild; I am enjoying the slow burn, Gothic sensibilities of the show very much. (I’ve been feeling kind of Gothic lately, haven’t I?) I think I’m going to let my imagination and creativity run free and drive what I write for a while; I’ve been trying to force it–to no avail–these past few weeks , and so think it’s time to try something different for a while and see how that goes. As I said the other day, Paul’s going to be recovering for a while this summer which is going to hinder my productivity, but it’s also going to be the hottest, most miserable summer this year. (It’s always awful, I don’t know why I am quibbling about the degree of awful it will be.)

Our moronic governor’s trip to Greenland–where he fled after Louisiana harshly rejected and rebuked his MAGA agenda–went exactly as I thought it would. Why send someone who is resoundingly hated by the electorate that knows him best to try a charm offensive? It went as well as could be expected.

As I was scrolling through Youtube the other day I came across an old song from the 1970s I’d forgotten about–“She’s Tight” by Cheap Trick–and it was just as horribly sexist as it sounds from the title. (I only just now realized “cheap trick” is also a prostitution reference.) What would a man be singing about in a song called “She’s Tight”? Yup, you guessed correctly. There were so many of these horrible sexist songs back in the day–and the odes to jailbait are horrible; the list is far too long to even attempt making one. But the majority are about fucking some underage girl who’s sexy and irresistible to the adult male. Gross, but it was also taken as a matter of course and “how things are.” And don’t get me started on the male teen virgin and the experienced older woman–which was a subgenre of film and novels and songs for most of my life. (This will be explored at some point in the future in a newsletter.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this rainy gray day in New Orleans. Have good one and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

Lovely Jacob Elordi for Chanel Bleu
  1. I’m really enjoying the newsletter, to be honest with you. ↩︎

Half the Way

Saturday morning here in the Lost Apartment!

I am very worn down this morning, after our big day of appointments and picking up medications and Costco yesterday. I had an amazing dinner at Lilette with my friend Laura–I had sizzling shrimp and blackened onion and garlic soup; chef’s kiss, really, along with a very dry martini and a very delicious glass of white wine–and then came home, exhausted, and watched another episode of The Traitors Canada, which I’m really enjoying, before heading up to bed and sleep. It was a very good day, but I didn’t get any chores done and I never got irritated all day, despite all the driving an not taking my medications in the morning before leaving the house. Over all, it was a pretty good day, and I was most pleased with myself last night when I closed my eyes with my head on the pillow.

It’s also election day in Louisiana, and you can best bet I’ll be walking over to the International School on Camp Street and voting against everything our POS governor is trying to get passed; he and the rest of the racist trash in Baton Rouge need to be delivered a stinging rebuke from the voters–they need to know how sick we are of their fucking bullshit and their war on New Orleans. Maybe it’s time for New Orleans to withhold its tax revenues from Baton Rouge and give the criminal fucks nothing to steal for a year or two. I’d actually love for the IRS to audit every elected politician in the state, as well as being investigated by the FBI for fraud and bribery. I have faith in our newly elected mayor and city council to flip them the bird and refuse to knuckle under; history isn’t on their side. Baton Rouge has historically never been able to make New Orleans buckle under; I see no reason to infer our city leadership won’t defy the authoritarianistic racism coming from the capital. Fuckers, seriously.

I started reading Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece while waiting for Paul at his appointments, and whoa, it’s really excellent. It’s a continuation of some of the unresolved issues from Everybody Knows, which I thought was amazing. Good writing is always inspirational and aspirational for me; so I am probably going to spend some time reading it around all the chores and things I need to get done around here today. The place is a wreck, from top to bottom, and again I am very disappointed in myself for letting it get to this state over the course of the week. I need to empty the dishwasher and do the bed linens and a load of clothes today. I also need to have some groceries made and delivered. I also need to resist the temptation of Youtube wormholes today. I will watch some more of The Traitors Canada–Paul will be out of the house all afternoon, and we are thinking about starting Amadeus and House of Ashur this weekend. I also want to rewatch The Mummy Returns for a Mummy newsletter to add to my Egyptian series–and of course, I scheduled one to go out today at noon. I’ll probably spend some time working on newsletters today and a short story–that’s the plan, and to edit the first chapter of the new version/draft of Chlorine. Maybe a hair too ambitious, but I always think I can do more than I actually can. Some things never change, medication be damned.

Sigh.

Okay, I think it’s time for me to bring this to a close for this morning and get started on the cleaning and go vote and get cleaned up. I am not going to overdue it this morning, but I definitely want to get some things done. We’ll see how it goes. So have yourself a lovely little Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow, all rested and perky.

One would hope, right?

I’ve always blasphemously called this statue Drag Queen Jesus, because it looks like he’s dancing and the chorus of “It’s Raining Men” just started playing.

If I Die Young

It pleases me enormously that the “schedule post” function of the newsletter worked swimmingly and it went out yesterday at 12:30, just as I wanted it to. Sorry, you’ll have to forgive my cynicism about technology working the way it is supposed to, as I frequently find that to not be the case. But there it was, in my inbox, as planned, and yes, I felt very accomplished and smug and on top of things. It was something I started writing while in Alabama on the trip, after visiting cemeteries all day. You can read it by clicking here. (There are helpful subscribe buttons there, too, so you can make sure you never miss one.)

I was tired when I got home from work last night, running errands on the way home, and thus made a lap bed for Sparky for a few hours until Paul got home. I did watch another episode of The Traitors Canada, which I am enjoying watching so am doling them out one episode at a time. I am a bit tired this morning–great night’s sleep last night, just saying–but that’s to be expected after a busy day at the office yesterday and it is Thursday, after all; I’m always a bit tired as my days in the office for the week come to an end. I’m going to be driving all over the place tomorrow for doctors’ appointments, but am hoping to get some good rest this weekend and even maybe do some writing. Stop that crazy talk, right? But the apartment definitely needs to be cleaned and organized and made better for the aftermath of Paul’s knee replacement, which is coming up in two weeks. I have no idea what all that will entail–his recovery, that is–but I know he’ll be doing rehab for a while after. He’s going to have the other done later this summer, too. So, I will have quite a bit on my plate for a good while this summer, and having to be Paul’s nurse around everything else going on. Heavy heaving sigh.

The two Black women activists who launched the recall of Governor Janky have also launched a recall effort on our hideously evil Attorney General, Liz Murrill. GOOD, and as always, it’s the Black women who step up. Liz is currently threatening the Mayor and the city council with being “removed from office” because they are trying to appoint someone to the Clerk of Criminal Court position that the state removed after a wrongfully convicted Black man who served time for something he did NOT do and became a jailhouse attorney was elected. Well, the bigots in Baton Rouge weren’t about to have that voter-directed rebuke of the horrible system here in Louisiana or let it stand, so the fucks (all of whom hate New Orleans, a vital piece of the state economy) eliminated the position.

But yes, they are the true Patriots who looooove the Constitution. (Sarcasm implied.)

And the Christian hell isn’t horrible enough for these uneducated ass-wipes to spend eternity in. People here are pissed as fuck; I don’t think I’ve ever seen the electorate this enraged and activated here before. The recalls may not work–the racism runs deep with the mediocre here–but I am enjoying watching all of this unfold. I have signed both petitions, and you can bet your ass I am going to vote this Saturday, and I will cast each vote against whatever Janky Jeff wants–so you can kiss those constitutional amendments goodbye, shit-for-brains. He’s literally making Bobby Jindal look better–which I didn’t think was possible…actually, what I hoped was impossible. But we live in interesting times, don’t we?

Rex Reed died earlier this week, and is another one of those celebrities who frequently came to the Williams Festival. He never remembered who I was (we must have been introduced a dozen or more times), but he was always friendly and polite when we would inevitably be introduced again. He was a great panelist, and his stories about filming Myra Breckenridge were hilarious, once he got going. He loved nothing more than an audience, and always played it to the hilt. I read his collection of celebrity profiles Do You Sleep in the Nude? when I was a teenager, and everything else aside, he was a brilliant writer. His subjects often loathed the pieces he wrote on them, and him as well–but he had a reputation for showing them as humans, warts and all, not as gods from Olympus–and he could be quite bitchy. Despite not really understanding what it meant, I tagged him as a child as different–the same way I did Gore Vidal and Paul Lynde and Charles Nelson Reilly and Jim Nabors and Rock Hudson and Tony Randall and Joel Grey, which has always made me think like recognizes like as the real explanation of “gaydar” (and it doesn’t always work)–and I always enjoyed his bitchiness, even if sometimes it seemed like more of an effect than anything; this is what people expect from me so I have to give them what they want. He also had a great story about meeting Bette Davis in Baton Rouge as a teenager, too. He actually spent a lot of time in Louisiana growing up, and graduated from LSU. He aged really well, too. I felt a bit of a pang when I heard the news. I’d kind of like to read more of his work…I wonder if any of it is still in print or ebooks?

I am having dinner with a friend tonight, which I am also looking forward to very much…and that’s the note I shall close this entry on before heading into the spice mines. I will of course be back in the morning, so have a great day and I will talk at you then.

I used to buy candles here, a few blocks from my old office. I don’t know if it’s still there or not, but I loved this store. It always had such an interesting herbal smell.

Another World

Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day…

And so today it is back to the office with me, lickety split. I slept well and had a nice, relaxing weekend, which was great. Yay! We shall see how my week goes, though, won’t we? I feel like I’ve not been in the office in months, while it was really only a week and I went in for a half-day on Friday, which wasn’t so bad. I also now kind of/sort of have a plan for the next five years–subject to change at any moment, natch–which is a good thing. I haven’t made a plan since Katrina blew my last one to smithereens, for obvious reasons, but if your plan is flexible and adaptable to change, there’s no reason not to have one, you know? Five years isn’t such a long time, either.

Imagine my joy and delight when making groceries the other day to discover they had Creole tomatoes back in stock, so they must be coming back into season and to that I say, huzzah! I love them! They are the best tomatoes, and…you know, I’ve been wanting to make fried green tomatoes for a really long time now, and why not make them with green Creole tomatoes? How delicious would that be? I ate one yesterday with some mozzarella cheese balls and Italian salad dressing and it was heavenly.

I was also very pleased to finish and send out another newsletter on Saturday, writing about Alafair Burke’s marvelous The Note, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I also got the next week done and scheduled it to go out on noon, Wednesday, giving me five days to think about, write, and edit the next one. I kind of like this “getting ahead” of things; it makes more sense and relieves any pressure on me about blowing the weekly deadlines I’ve set for myself. Despite being easier on myself now, I still berate myself for missing deadlines.

Like I said, yesterday was chill. I had some groceries delivered via Instacart from Fresh Market (including my favorite jelly beans, which I need to stop eating), and I did some cleaning up and organizing around the house. I got caught up some more on the news (which was as horrible as I figured it would be; don’t even get me started on Janky Jeff’s KKKLan redistricting plan, bootlicker that he is), worked on a newsletter a bit, and we watched some more of our shows; we had another two episodes of Hacks before moving on to Widow’s Bay, which we are getting more into. It’s a bit of a slow burn, but the more we get into it the more curious we become.

While all this was going on I was paging through my copy of In Cold Blood, which remains one of my favorite books. Capote was so talented, I always think about how he wasted his abilities focusing on being a social climber and the gay pet to his swans, whenever I pick up the book and look through it again. I remember watching the film on television while we still lived in Chicago; I don’t remember much of it other than Robert Blake. I picked up a used copy at a second hand bookstore in the late 1970s while I was living in Kansas–it hit a little close to home, as you can imagine. I got another trade paperback copy after we moved to New Orleans, but I currently have a second edition signed hardcover that I bought off ebay for a ridiculously low price (maybe only the first editions have value, but a second edition–printed before the official release date–might be worth a bit. It doesn’t matter because I’ll never part with it). Capote’s description of the lonesomeness of the Kansas prairie and its sparsely populated counties that is probably the best I’ve read so far. It seems weird to consider a true crime novel about the brutal murders of a farm family a comfort read, but there you have it.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

This is one of my favorite buildings in the Quarter, on the corner of Royal and Orleans.

Take Me Home, Country Roads

Sparky let me sleep a little later than usual–not for lack of trying, though–but it also rained overnight, which helped me sleep more deeply than I had during the trip. It’s still raining this morning, dark and a little bit gloomy. I’d planned to run some errands today, but maybe I won’t after all. It seems and feels like a stay-inside-and-be-cozy day; once I finish some things this morning I’ll probably head to the easy chair to do some reading. The key is to not turn on the television; that never ends well. Last night we watched an episode of both Hacks and Euphoria, but we are still behind on both–and some other shows we are watching as each episode drops, too. I want to get some reading and writing and cleaning done today around the house; I have to empty the dishwasher, etc. Paul’s planning on going to the gym when he wakes up and bringing lunch home from the Please U cafe on St. Charles–they have marvelous fried shrimp po’boys and onion rings–so it should be a relatively low-key day around the Lost Apartment.

I went into the office yesterday for a half-day, which was nice. I was behind on things from being gone, and was thus able to get caught up by going in. So long as I don’t have to be there before eight, you know? It was very low-key, too–no one expects to see me in the office on Fridays–and was able to take my time and leisurely get things done. I still have things to do there, but it’s now a very much shorter–and easier–day ahead of me on Monday.

We finished watching The Beast in Me the day I got home from the drive, and I highly recommend it. Both Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys are fantastic, as is Brittany Snow; it’s a definite twisty edge of your seat thriller, with fleshed out, rounded out characters who may not be the best people in the first place, and the dynamic of the nonfiction writer living next door to the wealthy real estate mogul from New York who may have murdered his first wife is kind of chilling–it was an interesting twist of the Bobby Durst/Susan Berman situation there (immortalized in the documentary series The Jinx)–which I spotted almost immediately. Berman wasn’t writing about Durst1 (that we know about, anyway), and operated as more of a friend/PR person for him after his first wife vanished2, but the foundation of this story is very similar to that dynamic.

I also watched the final, concluding episode of the reunion for The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, which, like the first two parts, was a snoozefest. I skipped out on most of the season–Garcelle was one of the only reasons I was still watching–and came back in for the last three episodes before the reunion, and couldn’t make myself care about any of them, frankly. The show has always been this weird mix of darkness and manufactured goofiness (the segments on Kyle’s family were always so hyper-produced, to the point I called these segments “Kyle and Her Wacky Family”–supposedly making them relatable, but actually making The Brady Bunch look realistic, groundbreaking, and Peabody worthy) that has always been a bit hard to take. I’ve never cared for Kyle–a recapper I used to love before she stopped doing them always called her Vyle, which is very appropriate–in the first place, and her alliance of bitches known as the Fox Force Five that she activated to get rid of Lisa Vanderpump was incredibly tedious. They’ve also made some horrendous mistakes in casting over the years, too. I don’t know, I think I may be tiring at long last of the Real Housewives franchises, with Salt Lake City the only one I actually look forward to watching.

Maybe it’s because I love The Traitors so much? Very possible.

I also got the marvelous news that the audiobook of A Streetcar Named Murder is on sale for a mere ten dollars, and you can get the deal by clicking right here! Snap it up, everyone! Please?

The Anthony Award nominations were released yesterday, and as always, I have a load of friends nominated in every category! Best of luck, and congratulations to everyone, seriously. I am glad I am not going so I don’t have to choose which friend to vote for, hallelujah. I am very pleased to announce that Crime Ink–Iconic is nominated for Best Anthology, and two of the stories were nominated for best short story! I wrote about my impressions about both stories on my newsletter (if you are interested in my thoughts, they can be found by clicking on this link here for Cheryl Head’s “Finding Jimmy Baldwin” or here for Christa Faust’s “Hollywood Prometheus“), and also have to add that Cheryl has another story nominated as well–well done, Cheryl! It’s also truly an honor to be in the same table of contents with both women, honestly.

And stupid, stupid me–I discovered something that will be enormously helpful going forward with my newsletter–scheduling them in advance. That means I can write, for example, Pride entries for June whenever I am inspired to write about being a queer American, and then set them to post and be sent out to my subscribers in June. Du-uh. Likewise, I can also save my horror entries for October. I am very oblivious, and very aware of the fact; it really sometimes feels like those old commercials, “Oh, I could have had a V8!” I start them all the time and publish them as soon as they are finished, so frequently I won’t finish one because I don’t want to publish it yet….which means there are tons started and unfinished (92 was this morning’s total of “unpublished” entries), which is daunting and overwhelming sometimes, particularly because there are so many and I have so many other ideas for entries, too. Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am getting another cup of coffee, probably going to heat up a breakast sandwich, and head into the living room with the iPad to continue reading this marvelous Carol Goodman novel, and just see how the day goes. Hope you have a lovely Saturday, and I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning! Till then!

Live oak in Audubon Park with lots of Spanish moss
  1. Interesting twist: I am one degree or so of separation from the Durst case; my mentor was a friend of Berman’s and she was terrified of Durst. Can’t say that I blame her, but I knew the case long before it got into the popular imagination. ↩︎
  2. Interesting side note: Judge Box o’Wine Jeannine Perro was the district attorney who couldn’t even file charges on Durst. Given that she now can’t even get a grand jury to indict anyone, you have to wonder if there was serious collusion and corruption involved there, since we now know she’ll try to indict someone for assault with a Subway sandwich. It’s not like she’s either a good attorney or a good person, and she’s clearly corrupt. ↩︎

Ring of Fire

Monday and I am staying home from the office this morning. I didn’t sleep as deeply as I would have liked, and woke up several times before the alarm (and Sparky) got me up. It was after getting up and pottering around the way I always do that I started feeling hot and started sweating and my stomach git a little bit on the roiling side, so that along with a bit of being tired…and yeah, it was a no-brainer. I think my sinuses kicked in overnight somehow, and yes, blech. I really dislike being sick, but it’s one of those things you can’t control. Paul is departing tomorrow, and I don’t leave until Friday, so I am going to be home alone with Sparky–who will need lots of affection and reassurance and cuddling. I don’t mind that, of course; I just am hopeful I’ll be able to do things in the evening as well. I should be able to just read, too, if Sparky’s need for my lap is overwhelming.

Sigh.

I did send out a new newsletter yesterday, about my set of World Book Encyclopedias that my parents bought the summer I turned nine; they may have been birthday gifts? But they were treasured possessions I still miss sometimes; I miss being able to pull down a volume and just open it randomly and start reading. But as I said in the newsletter, I don’t have space for them in my house and they are, despite holding so many wonderful memories for me, they are in the end just things. I was proud of myself for getting it done and sent out on the weekend; I still missed the midweek one, though. We can but do better.

We started watching The Beast In Me last night, and I am really disappointed that none of you convinced me to watch sooner. It’s exceptionally well done, and the performances of Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys are exceptional. It appears to have been based on the story of Bobby Durst and Susan Berman–after the disappearance of his first wife; that jumped out at me right away. WE watched three episodes last night, and while I don’t know what Paul’s schedule is like today, maybe we’ll be able to finish it tonight.

This weekend was lovely, in all honesty. I did get some chores done, and I did some reading: a short story I want to write about, and another chapter of Listen to the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney, which I am enjoying a lot. I had never really read her works before in an analytic kind of critical mind way, and so things are striking me this time around. Her plots usually involved a young woman with some sort of traumatic past, trying to find resolution in the present day, and very often involved her getting to know a family she’d never known before. In Listen, the heroine is heading to Norway to meet, for the first time, her birth mother, an Oscar winning actress whose career was ended by a scandalous murder on the set of her last film. She uses a more formal style, like the older Gothic writers, but she updates and modernizes it. I’m looking forward to writing about her and the book in a rather in-depth newsletter.

Obviously, given the newsletter post of the weekend while revisiting a novel I originally read when I was ten or eleven, I’ve been thinking about, and trying to remember, more about my childhood and the influences on me and my work. If I had never credited the encyclopedia as a major influence and having a great impact on me, I certainly never credited the made for TV movies of the 1970s! I used to love watching the “Movie of the Week,’ which if you didn’t watch when it originally aired, you might miss completely unless it was rerun during the summer. (Hard to believe we used to plan our lives around television so completely when now everything is available on demand.) I have a book about those movies, particularly ABC’s–and over the weekend I found videos on Youtube from horror fans remembering how amazing some of those films were, despite low budgets and bad sets. SOme of them were terrifying–Crowhaven Farm, The House That Wouldn’t Die, Scream Pretty Peggy, The Night Stalker and Do Not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate. They often starred either fading movie stars or television stars, or a combination of the two. The 1970s were also an interesting time for horror movies and novels. This is when Stephen King got started, after all, and I was a fan from the moment I started reading the paperback of Carrie when I was a freshman in high school.1

But probably my favorite Stephen King book was Danse Macabre, which doesn’t get nearly the love it should. Reading it broadened my mind to think critically about genre, and it also introduced me to any number of writers I grew to like and admire, like Harlan Ellison. I should revisit that…it was the first easily accessible academic tome I’d read at that point, and I loved how he got into literary theory through applying it to horror. It’s still not that much different these days, but literary writers always give genre writers grief —oh you’re in it for the money–and it was much worse back then when very few genre writers were considered literary writers, too. Stephen King wasn’t taken seriously until he was well into his career–despite his genius, his originality, memorable characters, an uncanny eye for human behavior, and his ability to make unbelievable situations feel absolutely real. I had already read some horror before Carrie–I Am Legend by Richard Matheson, The Other by Thomas Tryon, The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty, and Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin jump to mind–but King got me truly interested in horror as a genre and to consider writing it (I spent most of the 1980s trying to write horror to no avail).

And on that note, I think I am going to go lay down for a bit. I feel a bit queasy still, and you never know how my stomach is going to be these days. Have a happy Monday, Constant Reader, however you choose to spend your day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

  1. King was also another revelatory author for me, but that’s for another time. ↩︎