Tag: newsletter

Physical Attraction

Sunday morning and Sparky let me sleep later this morning than he did yesterday, but I think I might have been better off going back to bed yesterday morning instead of staying up. I felt worn out and exhausted all day, with little to no motivation to do much of anything. I didn’t write any fiction yesterday, but I did get my latest newsletter, about the Rick Brant science mysteries and loving Egypt, out, so that’s an accomplishment, right? I also read some–read several chapters of Love in the Afternoon and Evening, and a couple of chapters of The Last House on Needless Street, which is a pleasure to read–and watched some news and some World War II short documentaries on Youtube (I got sucked into one on Midway, and then I was down the wormhole: Stalingrad, Battle of the Bulge, Normandy, and so forth). I needed a down day, methinks, because I feel really good this morning. Listen to your body, Gregalicious, which you most definitely did NOT do yesterday morning. I also didn’t do much organizing or cleaning or anything, either. Like I said, I was just low energy most of the day.

Which I guess I needed to be.

We also started The Vampire Lestat, and my God, is it wonderful. I already enjoyed Sam Reid as Lestat from Louis’ point of view in Interview with the Vampire, but my God, does he ever embody Anne Rice’s Brat Prince to perfection in this. Visually and stylistically it’s impressive and over the top and everything Mrs. Rice could have ever wanted for her characters. The story is compelling, driven so strongly by Sam Reid’s Lestat that I didn’t have the same reaction I initially did when reading the books–switching to Lestat’s point of view was jarring; my mentality was “the entire first book was about how much of an asshole he is, and now you’re making him the hero of the series?” But I kept reading the series–I never read any of the new books after she returned to the characters after a few years of a break, and maybe someday I will, like when I have a lengthy vacation where I can just read–like Acapulco. But we’re loving this season, and I am delighted that next season will be The Queen of the Damned, which was what turned her into an international best seller. I joined the series when there were just the three, and I read them all on a trip to Honolulu before the fourth came out–which was one of my favorites of the series. (I have to say, though, that my favorite Rice novel, The Witching Hour, was extremely disappointing as a series.)

We were going to go see Spider-Man today, but when I checked the theaters, there weren’t many seats left, and I told Paul last night that I didn’t think I’d be up to being around a lot of strangers today–the lobby will be packed as well as the cinema itself–and we decided to wait until next weekend, or my birthday, which is two weeks from Thursday, I think, when I turn sixty-five. That was quite the run-on sentence, wasn’t it? We are going to have to go out today–theory is that it’s supposed to be cooler today after the rain passes, and it looks like it has…at least for now, anyway. I think I may even go read for a bit once I post this, and should read until the rain is completely past, which, per the local news, will be around noon–there was just now a bit of thunder in the distance, so that’s probably on its way here now. I honestly don’t know what kind of day I am going to have, so I am not going to hope for any outcomes and see how the cards fall for the day. (We need to go pick up Paul’s new glasses at Costco, which is really where I should get my new ones…hmmm.)

And on that note, I am going to get something to eat and will head into the living room for a bit to do some reading. So, have a great day, my friends, and I’ll be back in the morning.

How old is this picture? I wouldn’t have thought anything about it until I noticed his computer looks like an iMac from around the turn of the century. Maybe he is into antiques?

My Sins Are My Savior

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well thus far. I am having a very nice weekend, and I do hope you are having one as well, Constant Reader. I’m hoping for another good day today. I’m not sure what Paul’s plans are for the day, but mine will include finding something new to watch, since we finished Cross yesterday. I am tempted, of course, to start The Vampire Lestat but I’d rather wait to watch it until it’s all finished airing. (I’ve always been a bit of an Anne Rice fan-boy, and her connection to New Orleans was one of the things that originally made me think about living here, after reading The Witching Hour, which I should also revisit sometime.) I quite enjoyed Interview with the Vampire, and I might need to revisit those two seasons as well. I just saw yesterday there will be s fourth season, aptly titled The Queen of the Damned, so maybe the entire series will be filmed for television, which would be kind of cool; I did enjoy some of the later books, too. I also like this cast a lot. Anyway, how could I have forgotten Ride or Die? Clearly that would be the best option for our next watch. Octavia Butler and Hannah Wasddingham? Sign me the fuck up.There’s also another film streaming now that I want to see.

I had some groceries delivered, and made baked potatoes for dinner–so delicious with Kerrygold butter, cheddar cheese, fresh ground black pepper, and Maldon salt, with bacon bits and some chives. We’re both trying to eat not only healthier food but smaller portions as well to take off some weight. I bought a new pair of jeans at Costco on Friday (yes, that’s me, the gay fashion plate), and I’d like to get back down to two hundred pounds again, which I think is do-able. Paul worked out with his trainer and then went to the gym to ride the bike for a few hours. Sparky was cuddly and wanted my lap, and I really wanted to finish reading my book…so I put on the 2022 Alabama-LSU game on Youtube while I read and did some things. I finished the laundry and put away the dishes, ordered some groceries to be delivered, and had a very good day overall, despite the late start. When that game finished I put on 2019 LSU-Florida (which we were actually in the stadium for; it was one of my favorite games I’ve attended–the weather was perfect, the game was lit, and the crowd was on fire).

I actually came up with a working title for the new Scotty as well as the opening to the prologue, and the opening of Chapter One as well–and since I also have the disparate threads of plots decided upon, just not how to really tie them all together as of yet; I thought that was some excellent work on a day where I felt like I was being lazy, to be honest. I’ve been writing in my easy chair on the MacBook Air, and I’m getting more and more used to writing on it, so I have less excuses for not writing, which is a good thing.

I also wrote and sent out a new newsletter, which you can read by clicking here! This time out I talk about Lev AC Rosen’s Rough Pages, which I finished yesterday and absolutely loved. I think I am going to reread Larry Kramer’s Faggots next, along with getting back to my reread of The Ivy Tree and I think my next new read will be either Wanda Morris’ latest, or maybe something neither gay nor crime, but will pick out a few today to choose from; I do have so many marvelous books I have yet to read. I ordered copies of Emily Wilson’s translations of The Odyssey and The Iliad, and may get around to the Aeneid, too; it’s been a long ass time and my perspective has shiufted since then. There’s also Celebrity, which a friend reminded me of lately, and I had been thinking about writing about because one of the three main characters is a deeply closted gay man who is also a major movie star–and what I remember about how his sexuality was depicted is, well, pitiful. the life he was living wasn’t enviable, and was actually horrifically sad. I’d like to reread it, not only to reexamine Mack’s depiction but how the book was structured, which I have always felt was intricately built so would like to deconstruct it some.

We also watched Masters of the Universe last night. Nicholas Galitzine looks pretty (despite the lack of fur bikini) and Dolph Lundgren (whio played him in the last live action movie) had a cameo close to the beginning. Despite being visually beautiful and cinematic, as well as clever and funny at times, but the story’s not great; it’s a cartoon story that doesn’t really translate well into a live action big budget film. Masters of the Universe was always an infomercial for toys rather than an actual show, and not much creative thought went into it–He-Man? Skeletor? Evilynn? Sorceress? I remember the Saturday morning cartoon was popular while I worked at Toys R Us. I fucking hated working that aisle, and how stupid I thought the kids who were into it had to be to not recognize how basic and simple everything was. They need so little creativity for their entertainments? I saw the original film in the theater, with Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella, with a very young Courtney Cox (fresh off that Bruce Springsteen video) and her love interest was the guy who’d played Charlie Brent on All My Children (with Lauren Holly as his love interest, no less–Pine Valley had some very good young talent pass through for teen drama storylines). The movie was fun, but Dolph’s cloak concealed his fur bikini too much for my taste. It was fun and silly and not anything I ever needed to watch again…and I feel the same way about this version. Just empty calories, but there’s nothing wrong with that either. There’s also a strong 1980 Flash Gordon aesthetic I appreciate to the movie–there was even a point where Paul started singing “FLASH! Ah ah, savior of the universe!” and I had been literally thinking the same thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will do the same here in New Orleans. See you tomorrow morning!

The ruins of Fort Livingston on Grand Terre Island; another evocative writing-prompt image!

Bring Your Love

Here we are on Wednesday morning with a tropical storm heading this way, and no one seems to know what kind of impact it will have on the city. I know we are in a heat advisory with “feels like” temperatures up to 1171 (!!!) at some point this afternoon. We’re definitely going to have some intense wind, some rain (potentially 2 to 4 inches) with the possibility of street flooding, but should be all over by tomorrow, I think. It changes almost hourly, which is part and parcel of living along the Gulf Coast. AH, well, I guess we’ll see how it goes. There’s also no need for me to check on work stuff; since the impact, if any, isn’t due until this afternoon there’s no chance the office is closing for the day; at best, we’ll go in for the morning and be sent home in the afternoon. I’d rather that not be the case; I’d rather have a normal day as my body is getting used to my regular routine again. I slept pretty well and actually feel pretty good this morning, which is also pretty cool. I was pretty tired when I got home last night–but I’ve also noticed the days at work go by a lot faster than they used to; I was doing some of my work yesterday afternoon only to be startled to look up and see that it was almost four! The car was also insanely hot inside when I got off work, which didn’t encourage me to stop on the way home to make groceries. (I did not do this errand, because the heat drained everything out of me, and I couldn’t face carrying in the groceries in the heat.)

I did work on an essay yesterday for the newsletter, but I want to edit it again before posting it. It’s an important subject, and I want to be certain that my argument is cohesive and logical, and that it doesn’t bounce around all over the place, as I tend to be with my writing of personal non-fiction. I’ve not sent out a newsletter in well over several weeks or so (not that anyone is pounding down my door, desperate to get the next one in their inbox), and I should send one out for the sake of consistency, at any rate. Heavy sigh.

Sigh. Maybe there’s another one in drafts I can complete easily and get sent out, and I can save the other for this weekend when I can work on it leisurely and not feel rushed. I’ll add that to today’s to-do list.

I’ve been actually enjoying all the on-line discourse on The Odyssey (while obviously avoiding anything right-wing oriented, because they’ll hate it without even seeing it), and as I said yesterday, I definitely am thinking about getting the Emily Wilson translations of the three epic poems that are Troy related; can it hurt to revisit them again as an adult? When I originally read them (and other Greek mythology) I didn’t know what rape was; I thought it meant abduction2—they kidnapped the women. Later on, when I learned the true definition of rape, I realized just how rapey Greek myth was, and I didn’t want to revisit them , plus the conflict between the classical definition of hero versus the modern-day one (like the definition of romance in literature has also dramatically changed) was jarring. Now, at my advanced age, the rape stuff will still bug me, but I also understand what their mythology was really about much more so now than I did at that age.

Storm update: Bertha is now projected to pass to the south of New Orleans, but we’re going to get some rain this afternoon/early evening. Whew.

And on that relief note, I am going to head into the spice mines and head to work. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow. Stay safe, and stay vigilant!

The Taleon Imperial Hotel, St. Petersburg, Russia
  1. I told Paul to work at home today, because there’s no need for him to go out into this heat we’re going to experience. ↩ī¸Ž
  2. I think this came from seeing a painting called The Rape of the Sabine Women, depicting the Trojan exiles carrying off the women, in the copy of Virgil that I read. ↩ī¸Ž

One Love

Tuesday and we somehow managed to survive Monday, did we not? It was weird for me, because I now have to go into the office later now that I am the only person working in the clinic (don’t ask), because I have to stay until five now; my other person would have taken the last client so I could get out earlier. I now have to rearrange my life to comply with the ability to stay later, but it’s not the end of the world and there are always worse things; there are always worse things possible.

I finally sent out my newsletter on Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece, which you can read by clicking the title there. It’s a most excellent book, written brilliantly and the story etches itself into your brain with acid as you read…it’s about terrible people doing terrible things and the people who help them get away with it. You know, like Hollywood itself and well, the rest of the world, too…which is a nice segue into the next paragraph.

I saw a news report Sunday about a missing eighteen-year-old Black community college football player named Nolan Wells. He’d gone on a boat trip with friends from Ocean Springs to Horn Island, one of the Alabama-Mississippi barrier islands along the coast. The picture that was shown of young Nolan showed him with three white kids about his age…and as soon as I saw that picture, my right eyebrow arched upward, my eyes narrowed and my head tilted. My initial reaction was to be very skeptical of the story being told by “his friends”–they couldn’t find him, thought he’d left with someone else (but didn’t take his cell phone…sure, Klan) and it wasn’t until later that his parents began worrying about him when he didn’t come home. I hoped I was wrong, that he had gotten off the island with someone else and forgot his phone, which happens, and he’d turn up.

Well, they found Nolan Wells’ body yesterday out there on Horn Island, which opens up a whole lot of questions and his so-called friends are looking mighty suspicious, if you ask me. Horn Island is, at best, a barrier island and at worst, a sandbar slightly above sea level with few trees, no houses or anything, really, besides sea oats, grass and white sand. I will be following this story–just as I still am following the Noah Presgrove case over in Oklahoma. Both stories involve mysterious deaths of athletic young men, and a group of people that weren’t their friends. Of course, there’s a racial component as well in Nolan’s case–and his “friends” have all lawyered up. I’ve not checked the story again yet this morning, but it saddens me that a bright young life has been silenced, and because it’s Ocean Springs, Mississippi, nothing will be done about his death. Apparently, one of his “friends” has a mom who is a local judge and another is connected to local law enforcement, so there’s no telling what these young sociopaths have already gotten away with.

And no, I am not giving spoiled young white boys the benefit of the doubt. They are very dangerous in groups.

And the World Cup dream has died for the USMNT, in what was an apparently horribly embarrassing loss to Belgium last night. I knew that once the Baron Harkonnen smeared himself all over it, they were going to lose; everything the Harkonnens touch dies. I do think it’s hilarious that evangelicals–who would be reading the augurs against Biden or Harris or Obama had they the same track record of destroying everything–aren’t seeing God’s hand in any of this–especially the horror that was Saturday on the national mall.

Sigh. But good for Belgium, and now I can pull for Norway and Erling Haalang completely guilt-free, at least. I love the big Viking!

We finished watching Sugar last night, highly recommend, and we’re going to start season 2 tonight. We also watched an episode of a documentary series The American Experiment, which again is about the lead up to the Revolutionary War and the war itself. I did do some work on the book yesterday, but I also worked on a newsletter to send out later this week, if I’ve not already overdone it with the newsletters over the holiday weekend. Three was probably a bit excessive…although I am writing a counterpoint to that disgusting homophobic op-ed from a self-loathing Christian queen; bitch, you don’t speak for any of us, quisling, and how very fucking dare you? I think that’s a theme I can work with in my Julia Sugarbaker mode.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back on mid-week Wednesday morning. Till then!

The image displays the magnificent Grand Staircase of the Palais Garnier (OpÊra Garnier) in Paris, France. Designed by architect Charles Garnier, this opulent 19th-century Beaux-Arts masterpiece features a sweeping marble double staircase, gilded balconies, and grand chandeliers.

Big Life

Sunday and the morning after the holiday; all is well and peaceful this morning in the Lost Apartment. I had stuff delivered yesterday, so I didn’t have to leave the house (I am getting a bit spoiled by all this delivery service, but it’s wonderful and I am not going to stop using it). I ordered everything in the morning and it was here by twelve! Ah, modern convenience. Something good that came out of the pandemic that future generations will thank us for. Who knew that horrible time had a positive impact in some ways? It made for a lovely start to the day, really. Sparky wanted me up early yesterday and rather than resisting his entreaties, I got up and started my day, which was cool. I did some filing and organizing, and I also finished and published a holiday newsletter yesterday, about the 4th of July and remembering back to the bicentennial in 1976, which was very different from what we saw yesterday and what we saw in the time leading up to yesterday. Everything he touches dies, doesn’t it?

Going outside to get the deliveries or take out trash/recycling wasn’t terrible. I may be acclimating to this summer, which might not be a terrible thing. Oh, I’ll still bitch and moan and whine and sweat and feel the humidity sucking my soul out of my body like always, but…you do get used to it. You’re aware of it, of course, there’s no escaping any of that unless you’re inside the blessed cool, but your subconscious is aware that it’s not going to kill you even if it feels as though it might.

I wasn’t able to read any yesterday morning, alas. By the time I got everything ordered and delivered, and had done some of my chores it was past noon. Paul was up and watching Wimbledon, so I broke out the laptop and did some writing on it in the living room, which was nice. There was some good energy in the apartment yesterday. I felt really good and content. I also have some things to order for delivery today, too, which I also hope to take care of this morning. I polished a newsletter that has been sitting in my drafts since late May and will probably get it sent out tomorrow morning (I’ve done two in two days already this weekend, and I am aware it could quite easily be overkill). I also started two more, about more serious subjects, that I hope to get done this month. I need to finish Lev’s book so I can write about that, too. There’s literally no end, is there? There’s also the Half Man one I need to write…where’s my to-do notebook?

I also wrote about a thousand or so words of fiction yesterday, which felt good and was absolutely marvelous. We finished The Big Conn and hey, at least he felt remorse and bad for the victims, which is more than SSA did. WE started watching Sugar which we are loving Colin Farrell yum, love the stylizations and the occasional dips into classic Hollywood, and really like the character, too. Colin Farrell is perfect for this Ross Macdonald/Raymond Chander-style detective show; why has someone not tried filming a Lew Archer with him in it? You know what else I’d like to see? Alexander Skarsgaard playing Travis McGee. We also watched some of Wimbledon yesterday, and probably will watch some more of it this afternoon.

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


The Golden Band from Tigerland prepares to perform “Pregame” on the field. It’s the one with THE four notes that bring every fan to their feet.

Sex as a Weapon

And so the nation turns 250 years old today.

Yes, it’s today: the 250th anniversary of the first signatures on the Declaration of Independence after the states’ delegates ratified it–the birth of our freedom from the British Empire’s Parliament and its King–and while the country as United States was not born until the ratification of the Constitution in 1787 and the first elected officials taking office in 1789, we consider this the birthdate of our nation. We don’t even recognize Constitution Day, which is the true national founding document. As an inquisitive minded child, I wondered about this a lot when I was a child…but it’s Independence Day, not Founders’ Day, I guess. It’s kind of sad how this, an actual landmark anniversary, has turned into such a national embarrassment, but that’s what you get when you hire someone whose only success is hosting a rigged reality show. I mean, he bankrupted a casino. Multiple times. Ah, well.

Yesterday was kind of lovely. I was up early, and got started on chores. Paul had appointments today, so Sparky and I kind of hung out and watched some news (hence the hilarity of the failed State Fair, Fox News’ pretense that everything was going just fine with massive crowds of people, but the failure of the fair has stopped all the algae talk at any rate). Paul went to Please U to get us shrimp po-boys for lunch (I’ve not had one in almost ten years, I think), and they were marvelous. I had some things delivered, and we binged a Kaley Cuoco thriller series, Vanished, which was kind of fun1. Her post Big Bang Theory career has been interesting, hasn’t it? We also started watching The Big Conn, about a criminal conspiracy to defraud Social Security (to the tune of over half a billion dollars), and the people that SSA chose to punish were the recipients2, not the people who actually actively pursued the fraud–the doctor, lawyer and judge who were in cahoots with each other–which is about par for the course in this country: punish the poor instead of the real criminals. And of course, there were two women in the system flagging it all, documenting everything and trying to get someone to pay attention to them–and they wound up punished more than the actual criminals (but the last episode must be about the trial of the one who didn’t take a plea). I’m trying to decide if I need to have anything delivered today, too. I didn’t read, but I brainstormed a short story that’s been sitting in my head for a couple of years and think it might be a good story, if and when I finish it.

I’m up early this morning–Sparky was hungry and wasn’t about to let me sleep late, the sweet little boy. I feel good this morning, too, like yesterday as a day of rest was a very smart decision. I regret not reading yesterday, but I can remedy that this morning, too. I can also get some chores and picking up done, if I stay focused and on top of everything. I did do all the bed linen yesterday, so the bedding felt comfortable and clean and warm last night when I slid beneath the pile of blankets. Sigh. I do love that feeling, you know. I also want to send out a holiday newsletter (more of a newsletter about the holiday) today, which would mean probably writing it this morning, too. I also need to do some filing and organizing, too–like always. But all I need to do is put my head down and stay focused and everything will fall into place. I’m glad I’m up early this morning so I can get a leg up on things–but the temptation to simply collapse into my easy chair is very strong this morning.

I can always justify doing nothing by rationalizing everyone else gets the holiday off, don’t they?

Well, yes, of course, they do–but they also don’t have a writing career on top of their day jobs, do they?

Sigh. I can always spot the flaw in every rationalization I make.

Ah, there’s the caffeine, kicking in at long last. Huzzah!

As I have mentioned before, one of my favorite things lately has been World Cup tourists discovering the abundance we take for granted and enjoying our freedom of choice–as well as the natural beauty and splendor of the continent. We do take our country for granted, don’t we? Sometimes we need an outside opinion of how the US appears to outsiders to remember and appreciate what we have here. That doesn’t mean we don’t have serious problems as a country and culture and society that need to be worked on and overcome so we can finally achieve the ideals the nation was founded upon–but we definitely need to stop looking back and thinking the past was better than the present. It’s also funny how conservatives–the original xenophobes–use those posts from visitors to demean and diminish the Left when we weren’t the ones shouting to the world that America isn’t great anymore.

And on that cheery note, I am going to get some breakfast before I go read for a bit. Have a lovely holiday Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Friendly reminder: it’s against the Flag Code to wear the American flag as clothing. There’s no rule against it being used as a prop.
  1. The big twist at the end was absolutely perfect. ↩ī¸Ž
  2. For all the whining about Medicaid and Medicare fraud, the truth is the ones committing said fraud are doctors, hospitals, and pharmacies, not the patient. But we only talk about the patient. Isn’t that right, Senator Rick Scott of Florida? ↩ī¸Ž

Fight It Out

Friday morning and the office is closed for the holiday today, so no work-at-home chores for me today. Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning and I definitely didn’t want to get up this morning, either. I feel a bit worn down today, and a bit foggy, but I’ll be fine once I shower. I was able to leave work early yesterday and run a few errands on the way home (my medication arrived in the mail; had to get another prescription; and pick up my dry cleaning) but I did feel a bit wrung out when I got home. I did some chores (laundry, dishes) and we started watching Margo’s Got Money Problems but didn’t really care much for it, and thus gave up on it. I want to read a bit this morning and do some cleaning around here, and hopefully get some writing done as well. I want to work on newsletters today, too–I have my entry about A Violent Masterpiece to share, and I also want to write about the weirdness of this holiday weekend. They haven’t issued a heat advisory for us yet, but it’s still possible. It currently “feels like” 104 and it’s not even nine yet. There’s a possibility of thunderstorms this afternoon, too. I may have some things delivered today, to get it out of the way so I don’t have to go outside other than to take out trash. That sounds like a lovely plan to me.

It’s hard for me to believe and wrap my mind around the idea that the Bicentennial was fifty years ago; the summer I turned fifteen and was about to start my junior year of high school, starting over again in Kansas, where I stuck out like a sore thumb the moment I crossed the threshold. This is the summer I turn sixty-five, and the country is in a very different mood this time around. Apparently, Ba’al is planning to give an epically long speech tomorrow at the Great American State Embarrassment, and is threatening to go as long as he possibly can to prove that he did. No incumbent president has ever died on July 4th, but at the very least his make-up is going to run–and no telling what will happen to his rat’s nest. However, President Zachary Taylor went to a lengthy celebration of the 4th on a very hot humid day, ate some cold milk and cucumbers to cool down, and got sick and died a few days later.

Dare I dream?

Essence is also this weekend here in New Orleans, and I hope that it’s back to its best form; there were a lot of complaints and some scandals in recent years. Louisiana racists hate Essence Festival (just as they hate Bayou Classic weekend, another Black event), and were pretty gleeful about its possible demise the last couple of years (there are also Quarter businesses that close both weekends, but they’re not racist, wink wink),so here’s hoping its back to form this year and rebuilds back bigger and better than ever before.

The battle between New Orleans and Louisiana rages on, with a grand jury here indicting our criminalistic conservative skank Attorney General for, among other things, abuse of power. Our lovely governor has promised to “pardon her instantly” for any convictions she may get in New Orleans…(that MAGA love and respect for the law and the Constitution on full display here, may they both burn in their own hells for all eternity)…yet conservatives called Huey Long a dictator…when Huey never pulled any of this kind of shit on his own, and he and his candidates always won in landslides. At least the day to day people loved Huey because he fought the 1% to benefit the people–which our modern day demagoguery can’t be bothered with.

I’ve been listening to some old favorites lately in the car as I drive to and from work and around town–albums by Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks, and Pat Benatar from my youth and most of them still hold up today and could be hits. Some of Stevie’s 1980s albums are very much of their time, vastly over-produced like the most excessive Bonnie Tyler hits of the period, unfortunately; I’d love to hear them remade with a more timeless production style.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines for the day. I need to do some chores, and I need to get the kitchen and my workspace back under control. I hope you have a lovely Holiday Eve, Constant Reader, and I hope to see you again here tomorrow morning on the nation’s birthday. Until then, Constant Reader!

Tell It To Her

Monday morning and it’s back to the office with me today. It was a lovely weekend, and I had a nice day yesterday. I wrote–working on a short story, a newsletter, and most importantly THE BOOK–and did some things around the house but mostly took it easy. I also dipped into the book I am reading and was charmed instantly, as I knew I would be. We also started watching the new season of Citadel, but I barely remember the first one. It’s very action-packed and moves very quickly, and also has a very top-notch cast. I slept well last night and am feeling good this morning, honestly. The kitchen and apartment are a bit messy, but that’s okay. I am pleased with how this holiday weekend went, and looking forward to seeing Dad this weekend. I’ve still not picked out what I want to listen to in the car, and I didn’t get a newsletter sent out over the weekend, either.

Looks like we’re done with rain, at least for now. No rain for the entire week in the forecast, and I imagine Alabama is going to be miserably hot this weekend–and I must remember to wear a hat when I am outside. (And yes, they are having dangerous heat levels in Alabama, too; we’re currently in a heat advisory and I suspect this is going to be a long and miserable summer, and not just in New Orleans.) I have to try to get things in order since I am going away for a couple of days–nothing major or long, just driving up Thursday and back Saturday–but I hate coming home to a messy, disorganized house. I’ll try to touch up on things Thursday morning before I leave (planning on getting on the road around noon), and I doubt I’ll do much, if any, writing while I am gone. I probably won’t post here until Sunday morning, so prepare for a brief holiday from yours truly’s mad typing on here. I think I am going to listen to Margot Douaihy’s Blessed Water in the car going and coming. I blurbed it and read it in galley form several years ago, but all I remember (that illness memory issue again) is that I loved it–Margot is an exceptionally skilled artist–and I want to read the next Sister Holiday, so I am going to revisit it in the car so I can write about it as a Pride selection–and books like the ones Margot writes make me very proud to be a queer crime writer. (It’s been a while since I read the first one–which blew me completely away.)

And I am writing a noir, so it might be helpful to read one of the most literary noir writers of all time. It certainly can’t hurt.

I’m not sure about what I wrote on the book yesterday, if I am going to try to be completely honest. I feel like maybe I started down a possibly wrong path yesterday; but I could be wrong. It might be something that needs to go when it’s time for brutal edits, but I also think it’s important that my character actually have a kind of “safe space”–wouldn’t it make sense for a closeted gay actor in 1950s Hollywood to create a place where he can get away from all the lies and bullshit and Hollywood nonsense? I just worry it may soften him? Or…maybe this part can make how he is in the other parts of the book even more powerful? Living a constant lie is horrible and warps people (look at Lindsey Graham, for one prominent example), not to mention the constant worry about blackmail or another queer selling you out to save themselves–the closet makes people do horrible, horrible things, and that might be the underlying theme I am playing with here: the closet warps and twists people; fear can make you do some crazy-ass things.

And I kind of like that these kinds of thoughts are coming into my head. The loss of anxiety has helped enormously with that; I think I also used to write fast partly so my imposter syndrome wouldn’t have time to kick into gear and make me doubt myself. I like that now, when I question myself about my writing, it’s about choices and character and theme, rather than you’ve got a nerve thinking you can write something like this, which is what it used to be and was quite horrible. I’ve also recognized that I can’t really force it as much as I used to; I’m not sure what that means for my mental state and my tendency to self-deprecate, which was always so goddamned self-defeating (the thought process was if I am humble and play down what I do I can’t be offended by criticism because I am harder on myself than anyone else); that was always one of the biggest problems I had with coming up with coping mechanisms to protect myself from anxiety; it’s hard to explain how freeing it is to not have that making me tense and tightly wound all of the time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back on the morrow.

An “allÊe,” aka a road bounded by trees or bushes. Spooky looking with the ground fog.

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. ↩ī¸Ž

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.