Tag: sex workers

Getaway Car

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around yet again, and the week is half-over, huzzah! It’s all a downhill slide into the weekend now–wishing my life away again, as Mom always used to say–but can I help it if I enjoy my days off and look forward to them? Surely I am not alone in this, and I say this as someone who actually enjoys his job and what he does for a living (and health insurance).

Speaking of insurance, my nurse from Louisiana Blue (Blue Cross/Blue Shield) called me yesterday morning to see how I was doing and to check in about my treatment and care, which is really nice and again emphasized to me how serious this condition I have actually is. I was pleased to report that I feel better, am hungry all the time, and have gained back some weight, which is great. I am also glad she didn’t call Monday, when I was so tired and low energy…I suspect my answers and my enthusiasm wouldn’t have come across over the phone Monday.

I also finally got a first draft of a guest blog written that I should have finished back right after Saints and Sinners–but got sick. I’ve been writing my Pride posts for the newsletter, and one of them triggered an idea for how to write the guest blog, so I free-formed it and sent it to the blog host for input and feedback. (It also gave me an idea for another book, because of course it did–No Way Out, only the sex worker is gay which will be a big Washington scandal, would it not, with his Capital Hill clientele–because I need more ideas, don’t I?) I also spent some time with fiction last night after I got home from work, but my mind was a bit foggy so am not entirely sure if the work I did was any good or not, but…I wrote some fiction at long last!!!!

Huzzah!!!

After that, though, I was very mentally drained and felt tired. I made dinner for us, and then just settled in to relax for the few hours of the evening allotted to being awake before retiring early in preparation for today. I do feel better, every day–even tired and listless the other day wasn’t as bad as it used to be, so even that is getting better than it was. I’m trying not to overdo it, but at the same time I am rather chomping at the bit trying to get back into doing things and acting like I’ve completely recovered. I am not, and I need to remember that going forward when I am itching to do something which is pushing it–like pushing myself to write and do chores when I am already tired from everything I’ve always done; and I think Monday was actually a result of me doing too much over the weekend, honestly. So, I need to take that lesson and remember it the next time I am feeling ambitious. Just read something. I did spend some time with The Dark on the Other Side last evening, which has me in a Gothic mood, and I think Summerhouse might also be Gothic in tone; I do know The Mystery of the Haunted Mine is actually a Western treasure hunt set in Arizona. (And it was one of my favorite books as a kid.)

I also realized I don’t have to do a Pride newsletter every day for the month. That’s a lot of pressure on me to produce while at the same time writing this every day, and I kind of need to save some of my writing mojo for my fiction–even if it’s just thinking and taking notes. The newsletter was supposed to be different from the blog in that it wasn’t daily; I was even limiting it to once a week for a while there–as I said, even I get tired of my voice sometimes, let alone dropping into people’s inboxes who have other things to do. This meant another difference between it and the blog; the blog is stream of consciousness whatever I’m thinking about while I wake up over coffee and breakfast every morning (I am having Honey-nut Cheerios, a piece of toast with peanut butter and a second with strawberry belly–I prefer preserves and will remember that the next time I get some–and a slice of marble coffee cake); the newsletter had no pub dates, so to speak, so I could spend more time with those essays and go far more in depth than I can here, so why am I killing myself trying to send one every day? Am I no different from corporations, marginalizing queer culture and life and only examining it during Pride Month and then ignoring it? No, I don’t think so. I read queer books all year, absorb queer art, and think about my queer future in a country double-downing on its vicious homophobia. Everything I write, no matter what it is, is framed through my gay gaze; I am intrinsically queer and that impacts my art, no matter what I am creating.

And I also think, since oppression is so intersectional, I can talk about anything that falls under that umbrella, because I had to unlearn so much over the course of my adult life, and I am incredibly lucky to have so many kind friends who didn’t mind teaching me how to think in a more macro kind of way–every lesson unlearned was a revelation and gave me a new perspective on how to see the world, and how wrong the way I used to see it was. I’m not perfect, by any means, and I learn every day while acknowledging the possibility I still have bad things I was taught yet have not unpacked.

But I went to bed early–I was falling asleep in my chair after watching one episode of Department Q, which we are loving–and slept super well. I feel good this morning, awake and rested, which is very odd for a Wednesday, but it is very pleasing in our eyes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, everyone, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

I love these old dirt country roads, and the Spanish moss just makes it look even cooler. The image is very evocative, and I am already thinking of a story inspired by the picture.

After the Love Has Gone

And here we are on Monday morning, getting ready to dive into another week and I feel like, somehow, I am able to do so? It was a very nice, restful weekend for one Gregalicious, and I felt good and creative and was able to get things going. I caramelized onions in the crockpot yesterday–oh, how marvelous that smell was!–and I made my own version of Salisbury steak for dinner, with mashed potatoes, and I also figured out how to deal with the battle with Sparky over my desk chair. I’ve been trying to use my laptop, but the screen is way too small and I’ve always had issues with the keyboard, so usually when I use it (which is when I travel) I take an external mouse and keyboard with me to set up. I’ve been trying to use this in my easy chair to no avail. I can put the external devices on my lap desk but there’s no room for the laptop itself, and again–small screen means putting it anywhere near the chair doesn’t work, either, because again, small screen.

And then, like a moron, I finally realized I could share the laptop screen through the Apple TV onto my wide screen television.

Voilà! Problem solved!

It’ll still take some getting used to, but it’s definitely workable. And my easy chair is way more comfortable than my desk chair. So, win-win, right? Right. I also managed to write 1300 or so words on the book yesterday, and I started thinking hey this manuscript isn’t in terrible shape the way I thought it might be which was also incredibly helpful and will get me back into writing the book. Huzzah! And for whatever reason, I also realized how to keep the story flowing. Always a good thing, methinks.

I also spent some time thinking about, and making notes, on an essay I’ve been asked to write about sex workers in gay crime fiction. It’s a good topic, frankly, and I am very excited to tackle this subject; it’s a good intellectual exercise as well as a memory exercise for me to think back to writing my books and short stories, and how many times I’ve written about sex workers, and how they are depicted in fiction, particularly in queer crime–and it also extrapolates a further discussion on frank depictions of sexuality in crime fiction, and the always, constantly preached to me “nothing on the page in crime fiction!!!” I have written about any number of sex workers; hell, even one of the books I have in progress has a sex worker character in it–the love interest, no less–so apparently I’ve been writing about sex workers almost my entire career. Who knew?

We finished watching Adolescence yesterday, which was a family drama exploring what happens when your child is accused of murder, rather than a crime drama about a family whose child is accused. The acting was excellent, as was the writing; and the style of filming was almost documentarian, which was interesting. When we finished that (and my dinner; a makeshift version of Salisbury steak that turned out quite tasty) we moved on to a queer horror comedy, The Parenting, with an incredible cast. The premise of the story is a young gay couple has rented a really nice place in the country and invited both sets of parents, so they can all meet. Brandon Flynn (of Thirteen Reasons Why fame) and Nik Dodani play the young gay couple; Flynn is going to be a major star, I think; he’s good looking and charismatic and a good actor; their parents are played by Edie Falco, Brian Cox, Lisa Kudrow, and Dean Norris, with Parker Posey as their eccentric landlady/neighbor. The movie is more funny than scary, but it was enjoyable piece of fluff that went down easy. It’s also really nice seeing how seamlessly you can integrate a film with queer characters; usually in this type of movie it’s a young straight couple. Is it a great movie and an award contender? No, it’s not that, but it’s nice to see a gay couple having relationship/parent issues like every other straight couple in movies and television.

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

He’s the Greatest Dancer

Thursday and my second–and last–day in the office this week. It always feels like the entire city is hungover after Mardi Gras ends, and we’re all just kind of going through the motions the entire week until it’s the weekend again, and we go back to what passes for normal down here–which is not the same as it is anywhere else. Don’t be a hater, dear, it’s what makes New Orleans special and why we all love it here so much. It was so different yesterday, you know? Hardly any traffic on the way to work, no traffic on the way home, there was lots of parking so I could park in front of the house, the slalom course on St. Charles was taken down…and reality again is intruding on New Orleans. I had a good day at the office, overall; got caught up on a lot of things, and kind of seamlessly slid back into the day job and reality.

I was pretty tired when I got home from work, but…I finished the draft of my story yesterday! Huzzah! I wrote almost three thousand new words! It’s been a hot minute since I was able to do that in one sitting, let alone when I was physically and mentally fatigued, but I did it, I pushed through and did it. I am going to let it rest for a day or two before I go over it one more time, make corrections and necessary edits, so I can get it delivered this weekend and cross that off my to-do list. The words were painful, like extracting a wisdom tooth without gas or painkillers, but I got them done and what I said yesterday was correct: when I finish writing, no matter how long what I’ve done is, always makes me feel fantastic and like I can conquer the world and do anything. I do love that feeling, and I don’t know why I don’t remember that and push myself to get that high every day.

Because you’re not nearly as smart as you think you are, and you have a bad habit of self-sabotage. You do this to yourself ALL THE TIME.

And you never learn, do you?

I really don’t. Isn’t the definition of insanity doing something over and over while hoping for a different result each time? And yet…here we are. But I slept really well last night, and had no problem getting up this morning. I feel good, you know? Rested and emotionally even, not dreading the day or anything. I have some things I need to get done today–some bills to pay, some plans to make, pick up the mail uptown after I get off work–and then tonight I am hoping to get back to work on my book. I’ve also been asked to to some writing about Scotty and queer sex workers in crime fiction; I know there have been some (I’ve certainly written some over the years) but in all honesty, I’d never really thought of Scotty himself as being a sex worker (or a former one), but…go-go boys might not actually be having sex with people for money, but they are definitely displaying their bodies for erotic effect to make money, so…yes, he is a sex worker. After I finished working on my story last night, I was thinking about this new way of actually looking at Scotty and it didn’t bother me in the least. I’ve never really been good about recognizing my own work as anything other than my own work that I am proud of, but Scotty…there’s really no other character like him in crime fiction, is there? Are there any other male protagonists of a mystery series with that kind of history? I’m not even aware of any other crime novels whose main character is a sex worker of any kind. So, maybe my little Scotty humorous series actually is unique and groundbreaking after all. Something to ponder, at any rate.

And if you’d like a really good belly laugh, some cybertrucks rolled in the Orpheus parade Monday night. Needless to say, it did not go well for them in a city that gave 82% of its vote to Kamala Harris. But then MAGA asswipes are nothing if they are not completely delusional.

And on that note, it’s time for me to get going on my day. Have a lovely Thursday, all, and let’s remain focused on our own joy and how to resist fascism, shall we?

Let’s shall.

Nathan York Nebraska Men’s Gymnastics vs Penn State