Tag: south pacific

Love Song

Saturday morning and I have really lost the plot on what day it is. I kept thinking it was Saturday all day yesterday, which was annoying. And as much as I was wanting to have another day off yesterday (planning on working more today and tomorrow), I actually started writing my next chapter of the WIP, and even worked some on my newsletter drafts, which is becoming more and more fun the more I do of them. Obviously, we didn’t go see the movie because I was writing and had gotten settled into that “in my sweats and I’m in my chair working on my laptop” mode, and so I thought it was better to go ahead and do what work I could while doing my chores. I wound up writing about 1500 words on the new chapter, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Whether they are any good or not is another story, but I am taking the win. I also stayed up later than usual, doing the laundry, and Sparky tried to get me up early again but settled in for cuddles when I didn’t get up.

I watched some more documentaries about the Pacific War again yesterday, which is technically research for the book–since my main character served in the South Pacific during the war. It also occurred to me yesterday that I should watch South Pacific again–I watched it when I was a kid, and never revisited, but thought it might be interesting from a sociological and research point of view; how did they depict sailors with no access to women? It’s been so long I don’t remember much of the movie, or the book either for that matter (Tales of the South Pacific was my entry point for James A. Michener’s work) so one of these weekend mornings when I don’t have much else to do along the lines of reading or chores I could put it on. I liked musicals a lot when I was a kid–I remember seeing The Sound of Music and Camelot on the big screen–but kind of got away from them as a teenager and the post-teen years…the fact that not many were made might have had a lot to do with it. Anyway, it couldn’t hurt, right? And if I can consider something as a kind of sideways research, it doesn’t feel like I’m just wasting my time…see, what you saw right there is an anxiety coping mechanism: I’d feel guilty and anxious for not being productive, so I needed a rationale for it that made sense to my brain.

And while we didn’t go see the movie yesterday after all–and probably won’t this weekend either–we are going to Costco tomorrow.

I watched more of The Burbs yesterday, and when Paul came down from his work-at-home duties, we caught up on both The Shards and Reacher. This most recent episode of The Shards was probably one of the best ones so far, but it’s still Ryan Murphy so there’s kind of a glitzy veneer over it all and character motivations don’t seem to be important (they never are to Murphy)…and almost all of the characters are unlikable, because I at least never feel any sympathy for any of them–and kind of enjoy their failures…I am not sure that’s the primary intent here, but that’s my reaction to it. It’s addicting, though, like so many things are that are nothing more than empty calories, like cotton candy or soda.

I was actually kind of glad we didn’t go to the movie yesterday because around the time we would have left, some amazing thunderstorms rolled into the metro area. The band of bad weather lasted for about six or seven hours, too–with street flooding uptown and there was also HAIL uptown, big chunks of ice hurtling down from the sky. We didn’t have any here at the Lost Apartment, thank the Lord, and it sure would have sucked to bring Costco home during a thunderstorm. Yikes.

Some rather interesting news broke yesterday regarding the Karmelo Anthony case, and a better picture of what happened that day is starting to emerge. When I first heard the news, my first thought was “self-defense” and my second was “they are going to roast and railroad this kid” and I was right about that, too. (Just like when Nolan Wells went missing and my reaction was “he’s dead and those white kids did something, they may not have killed him but they certainly didn’t act like innocent people who didn’t know anything” and as more facts come out…)

Because inevitably it will always turn out to be some kind of bullshit white shenanigans. And that kid Karmelo Anthony killed sounds to me like he was already well on his way to becoming a full-fledged sociopath. We need to stop treating white kids with kid gloves. Hell, we need to stop centering white people, period.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in on you again tomorrow morning, okay? Til then!

I’ve never understood the “must shave body and be smooth at all times” mentality. Body hair can be sexy, too—and very masculine.

Bad

I should be getting ready to go to the airport.

Instead, I am glumly sitting at my desk in the Lost Apartment, feeling horribly sorry for myself and staring out the windows. It’s gray out there this morning, and this is the worst I’ve felt in quite some time. It’s bad enough to miss out on something you were looking forward to for most of the year–even worse is to miss it because you’re sick. I hate being sick, hate it hate it hate it. Im going back in to see the doctor tomorrow, so hopefully this will all be over soon. I don’t know why it’s rebounded again so terribly, but last night I definitely was feeling like crap and that’s what I woke up to this morning. Heavy heaving sigh. I suspect today–which I’d hoped would be somewhat productive–is going to be spent in my easy chair under blankets, eating chicken noodle soup and reading. Yay.

But I should be able to finish reading Certain Dark Things, so that’s definitely something to be pleased about. Little victories are important when you feel like you’re at death’s door, and maybe when I’m finished with it, I may just go ahead and treat myself to reading a Stephen King; there are any number of Kings in my bookshelves that I’ve not read. I’ve also got some terrific ARCs I should read as well. I really do have a plethora of riches in my TBR pile, and there’s also all kinds of things to watch on my streaming services. So, I should probably be sort of productive, right? Rather than moping around feeling like shit and feeling sorry for myself, right? I bet after I have some chicken noodle soup I’m going to feel a lot better. I wonder what it is about chicken soup that makes you feel better always? Is it an actual thing, or have we been socialized and trained to believe in its healing powers, so it’s a psychosomatic response?

And I may not be going to Dallas, but I still am on vacation, right? So this should be about getting caught up, rested, and treating this as a vacation–despite the fact that everyone on my social media timelines (well, a high percentage of them anyway) will be at Bouchercon without me, and I will have an enormous sense of ‘fear of missing out’ come to fruition. I’ve gotten a lot better about dealing with my lifelong FOMO, but it still pops up. I love going to events like Bouchercon because it helps me reconnect with my writing, and helps remind me that I actually am one. I’ve talked on here before endlessly about the Imposter Syndrome I experience almost every day when it comes to being a writer; going to Bouchercon and talking with other writers, sitting on panels talking about writing and books–all that stuff reaffirms me and reminds me that yes, Greg, you actually are a writer, and you’re actually pretty good at it. That kind of reassurance is quite lovely, and it’s necessary sometimes. It helps keep me going. Bouchercon and the combined Tennessee Williams Festival/Saints & Sinners are usually spaced apart enough to give me the needed jolt of creative energy I need every six months; it’s going to be terrible missing Bouchercon this year just for this very reason.

But in other exciting news, this author roundtable I participated in has gone live right here. Crime Reads is one of my favorite websites, and it was quite lovely being asked, as an Anthony Award nominee, to participate in a roundtable discussion about crime fiction. Sigh. I really hate not being in Dallas this weekend.

Isn’t this picture interesting?

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I’m not really sure where I found it, but all my pictures of hot men that I share generally pop up on the Internet somewhere. I save the ones I like, or that pique my curiosity, and then I share them here so my blog crossposts onto social media with an image.

This picture particularly intrigues me not just because the model is attractive with a nice, leanly muscled body; while I am not an expert on the subject of male bikinis, the one he’s wearing looks too modern to have been around as long as it would have had to have been if the picture is as old as it looks–to me, it looks like it was taken in the 1940’s or 50’s. I don’t know why it does, but it does. When I first saw it, I thought, ah, this is some sailor or Marine from during the Second World War in the South Pacific…but as I look at it more, I could be wrong. It’s the tone of the black and white colors that make it look like it is decades old, but that could have been achieved in other ways, including modern day digital filters. I also don’t think, upon further reflection, that this bikini is actually his–or if it is, this is the first time he’s worn it out in the sun, based on the tan lines exposed. I’m also not sure what he has in his mouth, although it is most likely a cigar of some sort.

I guess my perception of the picture is because it looks like other beefcake black and white photography from the time period where I placed the picture originally; there are a lot of beefcake images from the WW2 era and just after where gorgeous young men in the military either posed nude or next-to-nude, most likely for money. As this is also the time period that Chlorine is going to be set, these images speak to me more than just as the ordinary isn’t this a great picture of a hot guy reaction the more recent ones I use on this blog generally get. I wonder about this guy…was he gay or bisexual? The cigar he might or might not be chomping on is yet another symbol of masculinity from that era; so he’s a strong, healthy sexy body, and while the bikini might cast some aspersions on his perceived masculinity in that era, the cigar counteracts that. So, who is this guy? What is his story?

A google image search turns up nothing.

And on that note, tis back to the spice mines with me. I still feel pretty shitty, so I think I’m going to go lay down and make some soup in a bit. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader!