Tag: rain

Read My Lips

Thursday, and my last day in the office this week; huzzah! I am kind of looking forward to a work-at-home Friday; I’ve not had one in quite a while. I went to Alabama one Friday, followed by the 4th, followed by a mandatory in person staff meeting, and of course last week was Staff Development Day. I don’t have to get up to the alarm tomorrow, nor do I have to rush around getting ready for the day. Instead I can have my coffee and breakfast, catch up on news, and post a new entry here before checking in for the day. I have a lot of quality assurance to get done for our site visit next week, but I pretty much have my day job under control now; I’ve finally come up with an efficient system that will always have me caught up on some part of the job, which is lovely. I honestly don’t know why I didn’t come up with this system before, frankly.

The weather wasn’t much of anything yesterday, really. The heat advisory was called off in the morning around eleven, and sure, there was some wind of mild concern (but not consequence) and the rain was more of a misty thing once that started in the afternoon; not the kind of insane flooding downpours we usually get; there was no thunder or lightning, which was very strange; we rarely get that kind of a rain. I was a bit on the tired side when I gor home, but I did some chores before being Sparky’s cuddle cushion for a few hours. We watched another episode of Cross, which is definitely holding our interest, but I am really looking forward to the Hannah Waddingham/Octavia Butler action/adventure show that just dropped. And we still haven’t watched the latest seasons of Bridgerton or Stranger Things.

And yet we’re always trying to find something to watch. Sigh. For All Mankind looks interesting, too.

Apparently, George Zimmermann is homeless and has all kinds of mental issues–including PTSD. All these years later, and he still wants to play victim. Aw, maybe you shouldn’t have murdered a teenager that you also stalked first, you racist piece of shit. You got your MAGA fifteen minutes, and now they have abandoned you, like they always do. Kyle Rittenhouse, this is your future, and I love that for you. (The fact that every single one of them thinks they’ll be the exception whose life won’t be destroyed in the end really needs to be studied.)

Our anniversary was Monday and we both forgot! I blame the world’s madness and all the national media terror reporting on tropical storm Bertha (if you want good and not “the world is ending!” hurricane news, your best bet are the local news in New Orleans, Mobile, and Pensacola; Houston also does an excellent job). I told Paul last night and we had a good chuckle. I remembered because I realized yesterday that I’ll be turning sixty-five in less than a month, followed by fuck, our anniversary is a month before my birthday and WE BOTH FORGOT. But as I have said about birthdays and Christmas numerous times before, neither one of us care very much about things like that–and now that both our mothers are dead, both of those holidays mean even less than they did when they were alive, so it’s no surprise that once we reached the thirty-first anniversary we’d not care and completely forget about it. I mean, every day with Paul is marvelous, and I appreciate what we have every day, so we don’t really need to commemorate when it started. I know people think it’s weird, but we are both so alike when it comes to most things that it’s hard for me to ever argue against the whole soul mate relationship theories.

I did feel a bit drained when I got home from work yesterday, probably the subconscious reacting to all the doom watching yesterday. I feel good this morning, but will probably feel tired this afternoon. I am going to run uptown after work to get the mail and do a minor grocery stop (or have it delivered, hmmm) so I can just stay home all weekend. I am hoping to get back on my writing horse tonight and this weekend, too, so we’ll see how it all goes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning. Till then!

Wide Awake in Dreamland

Sunday and wide awake, perhaps not in Dreamland per se, but definitely the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was a lovely day, really. I got up around seven and checked the news, put away the dishes, and pottered around in the morning over my coffee. As it turned out, Paul had plans for nearly the entire day from before noon until the mid evening, leaving me to my own devices for the day. I read some, puttered around a bit, wrote some, put some things on while I rearranged and reorganized during the day while he was gone, and kind of enjoyed the peace and quiet of a little alone time. It’s nice periodically to have a day that is entirely mine to do with as I pleased, you know? It would get old very quickly, I suspect, but as I said, it’s nice every once in a while. The thunderstorm also arrived just before one, too–at least that’s when the sky started darkening and I heard thunder in the distance. It was the proverbial New Orleans gully-washer with flash flooding alerts and so forth. Paul wasn’t home, so Sparky wanted to sleep in my lap all afternoon and I was frankly happy to allow him to; it was very cozy with the chilly damp in the air and the sound of rain pouring out of the sky and rushing along the walk to the lower level of the street. I watched the last two episodes of House of the Dragon, which were quite enthralling. It did pick up in episode two, after all, and these episodes I watched yesterday were very gripping and moved very quickly.

I apparently missed the news about Lindsey Graham’s sudden death yesterday, adnd have not read any of the reporting, just seeing some social media posts about it this morning. Awful as he was, there was a little part of my brain that felt sorry for him. I always felt that the mocking of his questionable sexuality bordered on the homophobic and made me uncomfortable, even as I succumbed to the temptation of the low-hanging fruit on occasion. I guess seeing him triggered my empathy because I would always think, whenever I saw him, how easily his “path” (we don’t know anything for certain, everything is speculation and cruel gossip rooted in the homophobic ideation that you can always tell. Um, tell Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter’s fans back in the day, or Rob Halford. Hell, they didn’t think Freddie Mercury of QUEEN was, so yeah, no you can’t) could have been mine. I often wonder how I, born gay into a rural Southern family steeped in that dominant Southern culture, may have turned out had we not left Alabama when I was two, which is where my place of empathy for Graham comes from–and now that he’s dead and cannot cause any harm to non-white non-straights anymore, I can shake my head with sadness about his wasted life. Even if everyone is reading him wrong and he was just not “masculine” enough1, that’s actually even sadder. He was a horrible person and his congressional voting record and public white supremacy mean the sympathy is more along the lines of a wasted life who could have spent his entire career doing things for his constituents rather than being a MAGA mouthpiece.

He certainly was a Harkonnen beta, and that is unforgivable.

With McConnell also dead (despite the pretense and this whole Weekend at Bernie’s bullshit they’ve been pulling with his brain-dead corpse–if he didn’t die before they took him out of his home, they sure were not in a hurry for someone found unresponsive in their home. These things come in threes–dare we to hope? As someone I admire greatly once wrote–dare we have the audacity of hope? This could be the best American summer in quite a while. Although in this shitty timeline, Anne Widdecombe probably counted as the other vile politician death in this glorious triumvirate.

Seriously, live your life so the world isn’t better off when you’ve died.

I slept late this morning and feel good and rested this morning, if a bit hungry. I do have to order some things for delivery and I’ll have to stop on my way home from the office tomorrow to pick up a few things. Today I am hoping to read and write and do some picking up around here. Paul slept on the couch last night (he said it’s easier sometimes for his knee when it hurts) so I can’t catch up on the news, so I will have no choice other than to read and write this morning. We watched a documentary last night on Netflix, Breakdown: 1975, which was a pivotal year culturally–this focused on politics and films, and that in wake of government distrust that permeated the country after all the scandals, how films became more cynical rather than optimistic and good didn’t always win in the end–and the good guy himself was not entirely a good guy either, unless he was an innocent pulled into something beyond both his knowledge and control, like Marathon Man. My Cynical 70s Film Festival that I did during the shutdown really emphasized how gritty and realistic the decade’s “serious” films by the auteur directors that rose in the 1970s were…and how Spielberg and Lucas changed the industry into the summer blockbuster mess it’s been ever since.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. My book is calling to me, and I need to read some other things for research purposes before I dig back into my own book and short stories and essays. Hope you have a lovely Sunday however you choose to spend it, Constant Reader, and I will see you again bright and early at six am again tomorrow!

Sure, whatever you say, there’s absolutely nothing homoerotic about professional wrestling. Uh huh. Nice ass, anyway.
  1. This would make a marvelous introduction to one of my essays about masculinity, wouldn’t it? ↩︎

All Fired Up

Well, it may be Thursday morning, but this is not my last day in the office for the week. We have an in-person department meeting on Friday, so I have to get up and come in. That’s fine, really, I don’t mind putting my time in at the office tomorrow. I won’t have to stay past two, and then I can run some errands on the way home from work and hopefully, get everything I may need so I don’t have to leave again over the weekend and can just stay inside. In the cool. Out of the heat. One of the nice things about doing chores every night and in the morning before I leave for work is that all the cleaning I used to let accumulate in the sink, laundry room and on the counters no longer has to be done first thing on Saturday morning….so I can maybe do some other cleaning that I never get to–like the floors and the stairs. The laundry room shelves need organizing and straightening, too–and I should also go through all the kitchen cabinets and throw away everything that has expired without being used.

And I can also spend some more time writing and reading on the weekends, too.

I slept well last night again, but this morning I hit snooze one more time than usual (to Sparky’s chagrin), but it was more about being comfortable than wanting more sleep. I have the most comfortable bed, and of course my incredibly soft and heavy pile of blankets. It’s supposed to rain again today–it did at the office during the day, but today’s rain is forecast for this late afternoon/earaly evening, which means coming home during a torrential rain (potentially; New Orleans weather forecasts in the summer are completely unreliable), but that’s fine. I don’t even mind having to go into the office tomorrow, either.

Paul didn’t get home until it was too late to watch anything (board meeting), so I did some chores when I got home yesterday before providing a very needy Sparky with a lap/bed for him so he could feel safe and secure again. I did work on the book again yesterday, writing a thousand words and getting a very strong first draft of the first chapter done, which needs a further polish but for now I am content to let it stand as is and move on to finishing a strong draft of chapter two. I’m not writing at my old break-neck pace; I can’t remember the last time I did three thousand words or more in a single day. But that’s also okay; I’m not on any deadline outside of my personal goal of solid first draft by Labor Day, and being able to take my time instead of rushing through a draft is eminently more satisfying, too, and I do think I like this way of writing better. I have more free time than I have had in almost sixteen years, and my body seems to be, if not completely recovered from everything, at least I feel better physically than I have in years. I also like this going into the office a little later every morning thing I’ve been doing this week. I feel more awake and alive and motivated getting there at eight rather than seven thirty, and in the afternoons I don’t feel exhausted…and the days seem to pass much faster than they used to.

The Macavity Award nominations have been released, and was delighted to see three of the short story nominees I have a connection to; Cheryl Head and Christa Faust for their marvelous stories in Crime Ink: Iconic, and from Double Crossing Van Dine, Vaseem Khan’s excellent story “The Devil Himself.” This is the second time one of our contributors from that anthology has been nominated for an award; Barb Goffman earned an Agatha nomination for her story. I am always in good company when I am in an anthology, which is always thrilling for me. Rob Osler also landed a nomination for Best Historical, which is awesome! My friend group is always well represented on awards lists, you know? #ilovemylife.

It’s a good life, isn’t it? 🙂 I also got my copy of the latest in Rob’s series in the mail. Oh, so many excellent books in my TBR pile! I really need to get back to reading seriously. Maybe an hour after work every night? I can read while Sparky dozes, after all. I think maybe unconsciously my mind has closed off answering emails and reading so I can focus entirely on writing fiction? Stranger things have happened in my fevered, chemically imbalanced brain.

And on that note, y’all, I am ending this entry and heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Thursday, Constant Reader, and no worries–I’ll be here again tomorrow morning. Till then!

Much as I love New Orleans, I love Venetian carnival costumes the most.

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

Take It Any Way You Want It

And here it is Saturday in the Lost Apartment and as far as I can tell, all is well–at least for now. WE did get some rain last night–leftovers from Arthur, best I can tell–but the sun is shining and bright this morning, but everything outside is glistening and wet. I overslept big time this morning, which isn’t a big deal–I must have needed the rest, and Sparky was a cuddlebug, too, which made getting up even harder. I don’t think I am going to leave the house the rest of the weekend, unless I make a quick run to the Rouses in the CBD. I do feel rested and good this morning, which is a very good thing. I am going to try to do some reading and writing today around picking up and organizing; I got the dishes and laundry taken care of yesterday. The kitchen looks good, and really, picking up and doing the floors is all I have to do, other than organize, for housework.

I wasn’t fatigued yesterday so much as I was low-energy, so I did a lot of relaxing around the chores. I watched a lot of videos ofWorld Cup tourists enjoying the US for the first time, while hating the fact that MAGA is making compilation videos of how “great” America is after the Europeans have been “lied to by their leftist media” about America. Question for the closeted MAGA influencers making this “gotcha” videos: what do you think Europeans thought of the videos from January 6th? And actually, isn’t this proof that America is already great? But then again, logical thought processes aren’t exactly MAGA’s forté, are they? We also watched most of America’s Sweethearts, with one left to go, and I don’t think I enjoyed this season as much. This is the first of their three seasons that filmed after the earlier seasons truly started airing and becoming globally popular–and that they are all too aware of how they are coming across to the audience and the cameras. Judy and Kelly aren’t the same as they once were, and seem to be a lot more concerned about coming across as mothering and nurturing and supportive, instead of the relentless bitches who know what they want when they see it and aren’t settling for anything less. Loving but tough isn’t, sadly, as fun to watch; they were kind of endearing in their relentless drive to preserve and expand their brand; the Netflix show was a smart move for them, but I think they weren’t expecting a significantly larger audience than they used to get on TNN. There’s also something to be said about the Madonna/whore dichotomy on display here, too, but I will leave that to the feminist scholars to deconstruct and examine. Today, we’ll finish the cheerleaders’ show, get caught up with Cape Fear and Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, and probably start the new Harlan show on Netflix.

I was pleased to see the US men’s team defeated Australia in Seattle yesterday, and yes I am actually thoroughly enjoying all the fans from other countries living their best lives. I love the Norwegian rowing chant, and watching the international fans all dance and sing and cheer and do their traditional chants has been absolutely delightful. I don’t remember the World Cup from 1994, the last time it was here, but that was also pre-Internet and social media. (I also love watching Europeans talk about why so many of us don’t have passports–“Because you never have to leave to experience a different culture, landscape, weather!” I love that the diversity of each state from one another fascinates them. I also watched a group of English guys driving from Dallas to Nashville; one mentioned it was a longer drive from the top of Scotland to the bottom of England) I’ve also enjoyed the hell out of Freddya78’s voyage through the US and reactions to everything he sees. I do have to confess, though, my favorite of all the fan reactions is the cute Italian guy thrilled to death by free refills on soda, or his shock at the size of a Whataburger medium cup. The tourists were originally joking about the “FIFA 15,” like the “freshmen 15” in college, only they’ve now upgraded it to the “Fifa 50.” I also love how the American culture they are enjoying so much is the stuff we take for granted and don’t give a second thought to–I only eat fast food, as a general rule, when I am on the road or as a “I don’t feel like making lunch” thing. I never go to a Chili’s or the Cheesecake Factory or any place like that; I live in New Orleans and I like to actually cook, but it does my heart no amount of good seeing them loving their stay here so much.

Also, loved the joy in New York when the Knicks won. These things always remind me of the year the Saints won the Super Bowl, and what an amazing time in New Orleans that was. We need more joy in this country, seriously.

And on that note, tis time for me to head into the spice mines. I am going to take my coffee and read for a bit before I take a shower, and hopefully will spend some time on my work space and the kitchen today as well. May you have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

O Mighty Isis! Relief at Karnak

Never Wanna Leave You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Treat Me Right

So here we are on Tuesday, the second day of Pride. I didn’t see many of the haters yesterday anywhere on-line, but I suspect that was algorithms working in my favor for a change, and who am I to question a mostly positive experience on social media for the first day of Pride Month? I even got all caught up on the complete meltdown over the so-called “state fair” and enjoyed a few cruel laughs at the oh-so-deserved (but not nearly enough) humiliation.

Not even close to enough.

There may not be enough possible.

It was a nice day easing back into the work week after a recuperative weekend. Paul’s physical therapy went well and they are very pleased with his progress, which I knew they would be. I was able to leave work early, and ran some errands (mail, groceries) on the way home. It was muggy as hell yesterday morning when I left the house (I finally left my work hoodie at the office yesterday) but we had some rain during the day so it was cooler and nicer out as I went about my business leaving the office. I am now scheduled to tape Susan Larson’s “My Reading Life” show for local NPR; I have my labs scheduled for Friday; and I think I got entirely caught up on my emails yesterday. I was a bit sluggish yesterday, too, but I think that was to be expected. All in all, it was a nice day, and Paul and I settled in once the groceries were put away for an evening of television–the news, the finale of Euphoria (I didn’t much care for this season, honestly, as I did previous ones, although Zendaya was fantastic as always) and started The Four Seasons’ second season, which was…off to a slow but not terrible start.

I also cleaned off my desk, which is a pretty big deal around here lately. It still needs some work, of course–the workspace is not really functional for much other than typing at this point–and I have some newsletters to work on, too. I sent one out yesterday, which you can click here to read. It’s my first pride post of the month, and there will be some more, undoubtedly. Half Man is still resonating in my mind, but fortunately it addresses masculinity and sexuality so I can write about that this month. I also want to write my essay about A Violent Masterpiece, but I may just schedule that to drop on July 1. (I am so delighted I learned how to schedule newsletters, Constant Reader, you have no idea!) Now that the stress and release from Paul’s surgery has passed, I need to recenter and refocus. Maybe today between clients I can go through the to-do notebook and figure things out.

Our weather forecast–rarely, if ever, correct–shows thunderstorms for later this afternoon, probably during the time I’ll be driving home from work. There are worse things, but that will make me just want to curl up in my chair with Sparky. I also need to get back to reading. Friday I have to get some more lab work done and I have to go into the office for an in-person meeting. Blech. But that’s okay; it’ll get me up and out and about, and once I do the labs, I can come home to the peace and quiet of the Lost Apartment and chill….which, let’s face it, is my favorite thing to do.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

I do think bibs can be sexy, and they’re so comfortable! Probably my years in Kansas and summers in Alabama.

I Need A Lover

Ugh. Paul’s currently under the knife, and I’ve been up since four (!!!). We had to be here at 5:45, but the good news is we will probably be home before noon. Obviously, I am tired—no one should ever have to get up at four in the morning, seriously—and I have no idea what the rest of my day is going to look like. I know I’ll have to go get his prescriptions once I get him home—which is fine, I can run some errands at the same time—and then hopefully be settled in for the weekend. I do have lots of laundry and picking up to get done, too.

It was supposed to rain all day yesterday, but after the morning it was all over. I don’t know why I bother checking the weather; New Orleans’ weather forecasts literally change completely if you wait a few hours, and I need to remember that the forecast between May and October is always hot, humid, chance of rain. Every day, all day, week in, week out. I look forward to the rain, though—which is probably not the way most people feel.

I brought All of Us Murderers with me to read this morning, and I realized—despite being sleepy and tired—that there’s nothing wrong with the book at all; it’s just not what I was expecting, which I will delve into more when I finish reading it and write about it, which is a relief; that’s an entirely different kettle of fish, and by reframing how I’m reading it and reacting to it through a more accurate lens will change my reaction to it. I think this happens a lot with readers—they go into something expecting something else and then don’t like the book because they’re disappointed, rather than reframing their expectations; that’s why I simply say “it wasn’t for me” when I don’t enjoy something. One should always respect the amount of work and dedication that went into the book, which is something people should be reminded of more regularly.

Yesterday was a good day, even if my evening was a little truncated by having to go to bed earlier than usual—or at least I tried. I know I wanted to go to bed around nine, but I think it was closer to ten when I climbed the steps and slid beneath the pile of blankets. I was a bit tired by the end of the day, but nothing remotely close to how I used to feel on Thursdays. Even now, I don’t feel physically tired, and one of the best benefits of the three day weekend last week was my Achilles tendons finally got enough rest to stop hurting, so I can actually walk normally again—and it also means I can walk more quickly, and the stairs are no longer a trial. Huzzah! I also have lost about seven pounds or so in the last two weeks—I limit myself to weighing every two weeks because i refuse to obsess about my weight ever again—which was also kind of nice. I’m not eating as much as I used to because I get full a lot faster than I ever did before. I think that’s another age thing? Hopefully, I can start taking walks and getting in to better condition. AT LAST!

Okay, the surgeon came in to let me know everything went well and he’s in the recovery room for about half an hour before being returned here to this patient room. Probably be here for another couple of hours or so—he has to wait for his leg to wake up and do some physical therapy before we can head home. Yay! I’m sure he’ll go to sleep once we do get home, Sparky will curl up on him, and all will be well. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines—well, go back to reading—and will be back bright and early in the morning! Until then!

My Clone Sleeps Alone

Thursday and the last day in the office for me. I’m off tomorrow because of Paul’s surgery (obviously), and we still don’t know what time we have to be at the surgery center. Thanks for all the well wishes, everyone. They are appreciated. It’s supposed to rain most of the day today–95% chance–although it was also supposed to rain all day yesterday and it really didn’t. Mississippi is being inundated, though, with flash flooding and all that good stuff. I think we’re slow in the clinic today, so I should be able to get my admin work done today.

Once we find out what time we have to be at the surgery center on Friday, I’ll be able to formulate any plans for the day and for the weekend. Which is fine; I just don’t do well with ambiguity and have never been a “play it by ear” kind of person–the medications have not changed that at all, so that clearly wasn’t a stressor–but I do have my to-do list/notebook to consult. I do have to pay some bills that are due next week before pay day that I’ve been kind of slagging off on–it’s not like they’re overdue or anything, they are simply due next week and on the last Pay-the-Bills Day I just didn’t feel like keeping up with it. (Every time I pay a bill, I think, now watch the world incinerate tomorrow. It used to be a joke…in the before times.)

Remember that planned Entergy outage from last weekend that didn’t happen because of the rain? They sent me an email and a text yesterday to let me know it was rescheduled for that day–after I was already at work and couldn’t do anything about it. All I could think was everything in the fridge is going to be wasted and replaced. I groaned at the thought of the money wasted and the money to spend to replace everything, but before I could spiral about it I thought about the people in the same situation who can’t afford to replace everything, and I was infuriated on their behalf. It went off around four, I got home after five to no power, but it was back on around six. Everything is fine, nothing spoiled…but I can’t get stop thinking about the people who can’t afford to replace groceries spoiled. Had this happened back in our poorer days, that would have been us. I know Entergy has to do stuff like this–they were replacing a circuit breaker that needed it–but more than same day notice would be appreciated–so people could stock in ice or something to keep things from spoiling. I mean, what about people on SNAP? The poor tax in this country is too high.

Since there was no power when I got home there was aught for me to do but sit in my easy chair with Sparky and start reading my next reads, All of Us Murderers and A Queer Kind of Death, and I must say, they are absolutely different queer stories and voices. A Queer Kind of Death is arch and campy and witty and loads of fun; it reminds me of P. G. Wodehouse and All About Eve, that wild and wonderful sophisticated kind of wit that is reminiscent of The Thin Man films, too. I think I may be being too. hard on Murderers because it is early in the book and I think I was reading critically rather than for pleasure. I’m not saying it’s bad; I’m saying it isn’t what I expected it to be (which is on me, not the author), and I am having to rethink it as I go because of that. Again, on me, not the author or the book. I’m going to take it to work to read on my lunch break, and with my mind reset we’ll see. It does remind me of Vincent Virga’s Gaywyck, and that is actually very high praise.

I also kind of smirked when I typed today’s title, because that title–and song–inspired a book idea in me–waaaay back when the song was fresh and shiny and new. It’s a story I still toy with from time to time; I’ve always wanted to write something dystopian, and this, among others, is one of the few dystopian ideas that actually stuck. I’ll probably never write it, of course–I’ve recognized that I will probably never get the chance to turn all of my ideas into published work–but it nags at me every once in a while.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am not sure when I’ll be able to post tomorrow–it depends on what time we have to be there tomorrow–but if I am not able to post before we go, I’ll take the iPad with me and try to write it in the waiting room. At any rate, I will be here at some point again tomorrow. Till then!

Don’t Fall in Love with a Dreamer

I slept late this morning (Sparky tried at 7:30 but failed) primarily, I think, because it rained all night and is still raining this morning. We’re in a flash flood watch, and it’s going to rain for sure the rest of the morning, which is lovely. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday, other than some chores and relaxing, which was wonderful–after I finished my work duties yesterday, of course. I didn’t read very much, either, but I did let my mind roam freestyle and I scribbled a lot of notes in my journal. I also have a newsletter to get out this weekend that I haven’t finished yet, either. Since it’s another gray, thunderstorm kind of day, I’m not sure how much I will actually get done today, either. But I do feel rested and good this morning, the apartment is in better shape than it was when I got up yesterday morning, and I did some serious chores. Tomorrow I’ll try to get up early again, and see how that day feels. I”m kind of liking this “at home, warm comfy and dry” feeling with the rain outside this morning, honestly.

Since it was raining yesterday, I assume, Entergy didn’t shut the power off after all; who knows now when they will do it. Heavy sigh. But I didn’t want to start writing or reading or watching something, only to have it turned off, so that is my reasoning for not really getting a lot done yesterday. I feel very rested this morning, though, so not doing much of anything yesterday plus oversleeping this morning clearly was the right choice and decision to be made. I can always, as you can see, rationalize anything.

I decided, as I waited for Paul to get home yesterday, to revisit episodes of the original Dark Shadows on Amazon Prime. It occurred to me that every time I think about, or start, a rewatch I always start at the beginning–with Victoria on the train for Collinsport, and the initial storylines…and that I didn’t remember any of the storylines on the show after the Barnabas origin story in the 1780s. They’ve sorted the episodes into seasons that have no bearing in the plots; they’re just kind of random. I did remember the storyline that is starting this season–the alternate time with the curse of Brutus Collins the lottery, and the deadly room the winner had to spend the night in–which drove them either mad or killed them. Kate Jackson (!!) is in this storyline as Bramwell’s (Jonathan Frid) wife. It was fun to while away some time revisiting Dark Shadows in its original form. We also watched the new Keanu Reeves movie, Outcome, and while it was an interesting watch, the movie was completely stolen by Susan Lucci, playing his mother who was also a Real Housewives of Beverly Hills cast member. Paul and I laughed all the way through her scene.

Not sure what today is going to be like, honestly. The rain is so relaxing, it’s perfect for getting under a blanket and reading in my easy chair all day, which sounds like an absolute winner. There’s also a lot for me to do as far as blogging and working on newsletters and working on the computer files. I should probably also do organizing of the work space, which is never a waste of time.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and go read for a while. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.