Tag: Sparky

Got to Be Real

Work at home Friday, and I have two on-line meetings today and some simple quality assurance and trainings to do. Woo-hoo! Yesterday wasn’t too bad, despite me being so damned tired. I was exhausted by the end of the day, as I suspected I would be, but I wasn’t crabby from being tired, either. I took I-10 home (I’ve been doing that lately and despite the traffic back up on the ramp to 90 and the bridge, it’s been fine) and dragged myself inside where i promptly let Sparky climb me and ride on my shoulders while purring and rubbing his head against my face (which does get awkward as I change out of my work drag), which is lovely. I did come home to a NEW garbage disposal; did I mention yesterday that we cleaned Wednesday night because, well, the house was a disaster area to the point we didn’t want our plumber–who’s been our plumber for over twenty years now–to see it? It was nice to come home to a clean apartment, just as it was nice to get up to one yesterday (and this) morning. I’ve really let the house get out of control, and I feel like now that we’ve got this deep start on it, it’ll be easier to finish what’s left and then maintain it. High hopes, y’all, I got high hopes again on a micro personal level. I even made a to-do list for the weekend. I know, right? Who am I and what have I done with Gregalicious?

And there are few things I love more than cleaning and writing at the same time. It’s a sickness, I know. But it is my happy place. I actually daydreamed last night as I caught up on the End Times (which is what I call the news now) about how much better my life will be with a working garbage disposal again and realized, with not even a pang, that I actually like being able to find so much happiness is getting a household appliance operating again. That will dramatically help keep the kitchen clean (see? I really went deep down that rabbit hole), because it means I can also use the dishwasher again (I don’t understand this, but I don’t need to–it just is) which means…washing dirty dishes off and loading them into the dishwasher to run once it becomes full. It’s weird how things like that please me, make me feel contented, and settled. Paul and I did talk about that a bit (before I finished watching the reunions of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City); that since the world is being such a dumpster fire and every day brings a new barrage on our intellects and senses, what need to do is go back to thinking about the apartment the way we did when we were able to move back in after Katrina–our safe space, a comfortable and quiet place where we can get away from the insanity and shut the outside world off and withdraw into a bubble. Our haven, as it were. And even now, with things still needing to be worked on and put away or taken to the dumpster, it looks so nice and clean and different, so better, than it has in a long time and I’m so pleased.

And with the Super Bowl this weekend, who wants to leave the house? No thank you. I’ll go uptown to run some errands, but downtown? No fucking thank you. I don’t want to be around crowds unless catching beads is involved. I think there’s a Super Bowl parade today for the visitors, but…I don’t know. I’m glad they get a taste of what our parades are like, but it’s still not quite the same as standing on the sidewalks of St. Charles Avenue on a crisply warm evening with the sky so dark blue it’s black, the glow of streetlights casting flickering shadows as people dance to the music of a marching band and wave their hands in the air while masked riders toss some beads to the waiting gleeful celebrating hordes of the unwashed1.

I also want to get my email inbox cleared out. I also think I need to send some emails to people I’ve not touched base with in a while. Not to worry, I still intend to spend most of my time in isolation like an anchorite (which would be a good title, wouldn’t it? Anchorite, by Greg Herren. I actually like the sound of that), but it doesn’t hurt to have contact with people that I do actually like and care about. Make sure they’re still alive, you know? I still need to get some things worked out within my life and my schedule and the barely contained or controlled chaos of my existence. I’ve got to get this exercise thing back into swing, and I need to start working on trying to eat a bit more healthier. I hope to finish reading She Who Was No More this weekend, and then I am going to get to pick out another new read. I also get to pick out something to listen to in the car on the way to and from Alabama next weekend (not sure how much I’ll be posting from up there, but it’s only a quick trip and back. I am very grateful I live that close to where we’re from; I could not make trips to Kentucky with great regularity), but I always like something Gothic and fun in the car. I know I’ve got a lot of titles built up on Audible; I’ll have to look through and see what sounds fun.

Look at me, making plans and shit, looking forward to a future. I guess there’s no point in letting myself burn down with the rest of the world. I got up earlier than usual this morning (before seven; Sparky was hungry and would not be denied) and I feel pretty good, to be honest. My coffee is going down well, I feel rested and alert, and here’s hoping I’m going to have a great day.

And on that optimistic note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; if not, tomorrow morning.

Gorgeous young Spanish actor/singer Manu Rios. I’ve had a crush on him since he played chaos gay Patrick on Elite.
  1. I count myself as one of the unwashed; I’ve never ridden and I don’t think I would ever want to. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ve never really wanted to belong to a krewe and go to a ball and ride in a parade. ↩︎

Take Me Back

Saturday morning and I feel rather well rested this morning. I wound up, of all things, sleeping on my left arm weirdly (on my stomach with arm across my chest) and this morning, it doesn’t feel either sore or tight. I knew it needed to be stretched, but this is very good news, meaning I can go back to the gym again tomorrow. I was very tired all day yesterday, too. I got my remote work done, ran some errands, and came home to write for a bit, but my brain was too cloudy for me to get anything done, really. I eventually gave up and sat down in my chair with Sparky to watch the LSU Gymnastics meet (they scored 198.00, which is a GREAT team score and something they didn’t do last year until towards the end of the season), and then we got caught up on Abbott Elementary before catching up on the news (always a mistake these days) and going to bed. I managed to get my chores done, and still haven’t made that to-do list yet–but hope springs eternal and hopefully I’ll get that done today, too. We shall see, but right now I feel pretty good. I hope it lasts.

Man, the kitchen is a mess this morning…well, the entire downstairs at any rate. But I will get that done as I write today. I do have to run a couple of errands today, so that will probably slow my progress down today, like it always does, but at least there’s nothing on television for me to get sucked into today, like tennis or gymnastics or figure skating or anything of that nature. So I have no excuse to not get things done today, right? That’s what I think, too. But it’s easy to get distracted and it’s even easier to get lazy and distracted. SO the key today is to not read the news or let our slide into fascism, aided and abetted by a legacy media that is not up to their jobs–or onboard with it all, like Fox, Newsmax, and OANN–not to mention a wimpy Democratic party that has essentially betrayed its donors and its voters and are now on-board with appeasement and sycophancy–so we’re basically on our own. The Democrats have been essentially spineless (with a few exceptions) my entire adult life, and now the party leadership can’t read the room and refuses to move aside for the bright young crop of future leaders; I’d rather fail fighting than fail rolling over playing dead. I have seen this, over and over, my entire life and yes, they have failed the country. Most of my ire is directed at the Far Reich, of course, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept the ineffectual leadership of the party anymore–and I sure as FUCK aren’t giving them another cent of my money. At this point, it’s simply throwing more good money down the drain for nothing. I’ve been waiting for results since I was twenty and have been disappointed repeatedly. If living as a gay American has taught me anything, it’s that being polite and being nice while working for change doesn’t work. It takes action, protests, and people willing to put their bodies on the line for it. ACT UP didn’t place nice, and they got results, didn’t they?

We need more Ted Kennedys and AOCs, not more Amy Klobuchars or John Fettermans (neither of whom will ever be president). Instead of fighting with policy, they are always playing defense, and badly at that. I honestly think their approach to opposition now is to cave on everything and let everyone suffer, while hoping things will get so bad we’ll win the midterms and 2028, in a repeat of 2006 and 2008. That isn’t leadership, for the record–although I am past the point of letting it all burn to the ground quickly so we can rebuild our new country out of the ashes of the old. Enough of this slow strangulation of freedom already.

And if anyone thinks I will ever mention Sean Duffy without making a reference to The Real World-Boston or Real World/Road Rules Challenges, they are very much mistaken.1

But somehow, I’ve managed to make it to sixty-three, which I never thought would happen. That should count for something, right? I’m kind of like Cher, I think–somehow I manage to keep going on. That’s the thing I suppose I cling to, my cockroach-like survival techniques. I never think bad things can’t happen to me–they certainly do enough times, and one thing I have learned over the course of hurricanes and hate crimes and death threats is that you can’t imagine bad things happening until they do, and so far I’ve managed to keep my few shreds of sanity intact, and knowing that I have somehow managed to get through it all somehow. I guess I’m a survivor? I certainly do have survivor’s guilt, for sure. I can never reconcile the randomness of my survival, either. I don’t think I did because I have some important role to play in the world, either–it’s literally one of those random things that happen people always try to find meaning in, when the truth is our lives, for the most part, are meaningless, but our egos are too fragile for any of us to consider we’re unimportant in the overall scheme of human and world history. I have no expectations of being remembered for long after I die, either. People will think it’s sad and then move on and forget me.

And I’m okay with that. My ego doesn’t require me to “live forever,” although I guess the books will, maybe.

And on that cheery note, I will head into the spice mines. I am going to read for a bit after I clean up in here, after which I will write, run my errands, and come home to read or write some more. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow or even later today; it depends, does it not?

  1. And for the record, I don’t think I’ll be flying anywhere for a long time. ↩︎

We Gotta Get Out of this Place

Thursday morning and there is STILL snow on the ground. I’ve yet to check the weather this morning, but I probably will before I finish this while drinking my coffee. We were told to work from home today, as opposed to having a snow day, mainly because the roads here are covered in ice and snow and it’s not very safe out there. It’s been nice, being snowed in and kind of isolated from the outside world pretty much this entire week; being distracted by the blizzard was also kind of lovely. It also reminded me why I love this city so much; the way everyone reacted to this marvelous surprise was simply adorable; everyone embraced it and had fun with it. Even I got past my distaste for snow and cold, which is kind of a miracle. It’s also nice having a functional HVAC system, so we stayed toasty and warm for the most part. Being closer to the floor, Sparky has obviously not enjoyed the cold quite as much, but it’s also turned him into more of a cuddly kitty too than he was before.

We finished watching White Lies, which had a few more surprising twists in the last few episodes, and really enjoyed it. I also did some writing–not much, of course–done, but I need to really get back on the ball with that. I also did a lot of file clean-up on my computer (the lengths I will go to not actually write anything is kind of amazing), which did, in fairness, need to be done. I am hoping that after I get my remote work done today I’ll be able to dive into the book again headfirst and get back on the writing horse that I kind of fell off of this past week. Blaming it on the blizzard works, of course. The news, of course, is as depressing and overwhelming, but the truth is I never really relaxed in the legal protections and the hint of equality we’ve had as queer people this century, and going back to being an legally oppressed minority doesn’t change a whole lot of things other than mental state for me. I’m also old, and have lived through these things before. But…there’s more than a little hint that this time might be different. The Republicans have gone full fascist (imagine explaining away a Heil Hitler salute done deliberately not once but twice. And don’t blame it on autism, thank you very much. Autism doesn’t make people Nazis, and Germany was not a nation of autistic people in the 1930s), but their vicious cruelty is countered by the utter incompetence. That’s the primary difference; MAGA aren’t competent) so nothing they would do, or try to do, would surprise me. They’re coming for Obergefell, and they are also targeting Medicare and Medicaid. Can Social Security be far behind? I mean, I hope everyone who voted for this is getting everything they hoped for out of this administration. But hey, eggs, right? And with the avian flu poised to reach pandemic status soon enough, I have no doubt in my mind this amazing leadership the country voted for will see us through it all safely. I wonder what the death toll will be? Will it be 1918-1919 Spanish flu levels? Remember, keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times!

It’s extremely funny to me that the people who have screamed and shouted the loudest about tyranny and freedom…elected a tyrant. Irony impaired much?

But today I got up early–which I’ve not done all week, really–and so it kind of feels like a return to normal after the wackiness of a New Orleans blizzard and snow on the ground for a few days. There’s still a lot of it out there that it still is a bit startling when I glance outside for a second the way I often do. I am awake and feel functional (I should, since I’ve not stepped inside the office since a week ago) and rested, so we’ll see how the day goes. I’m going to have to run errands at some point–but I also don’t know what’s open and what isn’t; if the grocery store is open, I could do that and check the post office since I was already out. But if it’s not, my postal service most likely isn’t, either, and I don’t think there’s a lot of mail to be had anyway; if the highways and airport are closed, there’s no way for mail to get in or out of New Orleans so that’s not much of a need in the first place. I wisely just checked the delivery estimate of a package that was supposed to arrive this week and yes, it’s delayed because of the weather–and the package is here in New Orleans at the distribution center. No one’s going to work at the post office, either. How long before we get back to what passes for normal around here?

I think the most important thing for me to do to survive the next few years (and being optimistic) is to write. Writing got me through the Bush years that kicked off the century, and writing will get me through this abhorrent one for as long as it can. I’m not a good German, though, so I have to remain dispassionate and not expend energy on outrage. The outrage is partly the point, really; and if we learned anything from the first go round that whatever outrage the legacy media is pushing, there’s something more important happening that they are deflecting from. None of the legacy media can be trusted as a source for information anymore, and it looks like I’ll be getting my news and opinion coverage from Rolling Stone, Teen Vogue, and ProPublica going forward. I have to protect my own sanity and mental health, and that is going to be my priority while I survive this horror that has descended upon us. I need to be able to focus, I need to be able to work, and I need to be able to stay energized. I cannot allow defeatism to take root in my head. Having a very fertile imagination, I can always go much further in imagining the worst, as my brain won’t filter itself for protection–I will always take things to their furthest extrapolations–if this than this and then this and then OMG. My imagination is both a blessing and a curse, it always has been.

I can always imagine the worst outcome.

And on that dreary note, I am heading into the spice mines. I should make use of this time productively, and get as much done as I can today before the reality of tomorrow–I’m assuming the office will be open tomorrow, and it seems strange to take my remote day tomorrow when I’ve been home already all week, but…we’ll see. My clinic doesn’t have hours tomorrow, but we do have services open on Fridays in my department, so we will have to see. They usually let us know before noon.

So I may be back today, one can never be certain. But I do need to get shit done today, and maybe even go outside for a minute to check on the car, which is probably still buried in snow. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in either tomorrow or later on today.

True Love Ways

Wednesday morning and we’re still having snow days at work. Yesterday was absolutely unreal. I got up late (thanks, Sparky) and came downstairs to see it was actually snowing outside, and there was already snow accumulated on the ground! It also continued to snow most of the day–I kept looking out my workspace window to see how much more had accumulated since I last looked, and it was always, always more. It’s very weird to see crepe myrtles frosted with snow, you know? I appreciated the two extra days off with pay, not going to lie, but what a freaky fucking week already, right? A BLIZZARD IN NEW ORLEANS. So glad climate change is a myth–drill baby drill! We actually got almost ten inches of snow, which either ties the old record set in the 1890’s or breaks it; depends on your news source, actually. There’s still snow on the ground this morning, and it’s only twenty degrees outside. We’re now in a “black ice” situation with the roads, and the city contracted some snow plows from Indiana to clear the roads and put down salt (reminder to locals not used to snow and salted roads–wash your car as soon as you can to get the salt off. Maybe that’s not a thing anymore, but it wasn’t good for it when I was growing up in snowy weather. The city may even stay closed down tomorrow; how bizarre. I doubt very seriously that I am going to get another day off with pay, but we shall have to see this afternoon when they have their management phone call.

Another reason the blizzard was so delightful was because it basically turned everyone in the city into kids again; so many people were out having fun in the snow–something they may not be able to do again in their lifetimes here–and it was kind of contagious. Everyone, it seemed, from the newscasters broadcasting 24/7 down to the rank-and-file New Orleanians, was struck by this sense of awe and delight that was kind of contagious and very, oddly enough, healing. It was just three weeks ago that Bourbon Street was attacked, but yesterday went a long way towards reviving the joie de vivre that is so special and engrained here into our very beings. It was kind of a reset, in a way. It was very distracting, too–I kept looking outside to see how much more had accumulated; I kept checking the news to see more videos of people enjoying themselves in the snow–I liked the makeshift sleds people were using on the levees, and the cross-country skiers, and the people who were being pulled by cars on makeshift sleds along the streets. It stayed toasty warm inside all day, too, which was lovely. I did manage to get some things done yesterday; not much as I was distracted and you know me and shiny objects, but still got some things done. I’m hoping to get more things done today, and maybe a return to normalcy either tomorrow or Friday. I really do need to make a to-do list this morning so I can make sure I am getting everything done that I need to get done. How much do I love how Louisiana reacted to a blizzard? It definitely reminded me of why I love living in New Orleans so much. It still kind of trips me out to look out and see snow on the ground still–but it’s nice and warm here in the apartment.

I’ve still not picked out my next read, but I am leaning towards She Who Was No More, a classic French suspense thriller, which was also the basis for the film Les Diaboliques, which is one of my favorite films of all time (I originally saw the made-for-television remake, Reflections of Murder, with Joan Hackett, Tuesday Weld and a delicious young Sam Waterston). The author team who wrote it also wrote Vertigo, which was the basis for the classic Hitchcock film, and another book I’d like to read at some point. I did spend some time yesterday writing–not nearly enough time, of course–but we are watching a show called White Lies, starring Natalie Dormer, whom I’ve loved ever since she played Anne Boleyn in The Tudors, and it’s interesting. It’s set in South Africa and so it also deals a bit with racial discrimination and bigotry (how can anything set in South Africa not touch on it?), but it’s very well done and very well-written and I like that the main character is actually prickly and not a nice woman, which is always more fun to watch anyway. She Who Was No More is also rather short, making it a quick read as well. (I did read the first page of Amina Akhtar’s Almost Surely Dead, and it pulled me right in, so that will most likely be the next one up.)

I also got the cover art for my new Scotty and I really do like it. I should probably do a cover reveal entry here, and on Substack; this is the year, after all, that I decided to put more effort into my career. The book never seems real to me until I see the cover art, which is always a moment of oh wow I really like that turning into fuck, I need to write it now very quickly. Sometimes, though, that is just the kick in the seat of the pants you need to get serious and work super-hard to get it done. I also have two short stories to write by the end of the month and I also have to write the introduction to the SAS anthology, since I was the contest judge. That was an interesting experience; I’m not used to reading short stories to judge them, I’m generally reading them editorially (unless they are already in print) which was a problem, because I generally make mental notes about what to fix story-wise the first time I read them and then the second time I read more thoroughly, for character, setting, and language. So, it took some getting used to, believe me. And they were all really good stories; so I eventually had to go with the ones I liked the best to pick the top three, and even then, any one of the stories could have been the winner or a runner-up; what a plethora of riches I had to choose from.

And on that note, I should probably finish this and get on with my second snow-day. I am really getting spoiled by this unexpected vacation, and it’s really going to suck to have to go back to work again. So have a lovely mid-week Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later–you never know.

How Much I Feel

Work at home Friday! Isn’t that exciting? It is for me, especially since I don’t have to put in many hours, which is good because I don’t have much to do, other than some paperwork and quality assurance and studying up on a new testing technology we will be piloting at work. I am going to go to the gym later and run some errands. I suspect we will be watching LSU Gymnastics in the evening, before moving on to a new show or a movie. We do live large here in the Lost Apartment, don’t we? It’s also not very cold this morning–granted, I’ve moved the needle a bit over the last few weeks about what is cold and what is not; I’ve also stopped fighting dressing properly for the cold (layers, always layers) out of that refusal to accept the fact that New Orleans gets uncomfortably cold for me time to time; that mentality of I live in New Orleans so I shouldn’t have to wear layers and I won’t, which was the kind of stubborn stupidity that I am trying to overcome in every aspect of my life.

I slept very well last night, but wasn’t exhausted when I got home from work, either–which was great. I cleaned the kitchen (leaving the dishes for today) and it was very nice to get up this morning and walk into a kitchen with clean counters and everything put away. Now that I’m getting better rest and exercise, I seem to have snapped out of the years-long cloud I’ve been under since the pandemic began FIVE years ago. The 2020’s haven’t been the best decade over all, have they? But the nice thing is my optimism is back; I believe in my ability to write again, and I am working out regularly again. I may even be willing to let more of the outside world into my peaceful little bubble here, but I am glad I disengaged from toxicity and from toxic people and a toxic community that embraces and will excuse away every last bit of its toxicity because “oh no we might upset the bigots! Can’t you be the bigger person?” My days of being the bigger person are history, collecting dust in the archives as I write this. I ain’t startin’ none, but as Paul says, “He never starts it, but he will finish it and I feel sorry for you.” I have no qualms with going low; I’ve always thought “going high” was a miscalculation in the first place, much as I love Michelle Obama, and I love that she’s not going to the ceremony ending decency for at least another four years. You don’t fight bullies with moral superiority because they don’t care about that shit. They never have. The party of “family values” who weaponized their “values” to scold everyone and scare people into voting for them, who said Bill Clinton’s adultery showed he didn’t have the moral character to be president, have foisted the only divorced presidents on the country to its great detriment each time. They also gave us our only president convicted of crimes in court. So, miss me with your moral superiority, trash–you have none.1

I did work on the book a little bit yesterday, and I am not happy with this chapter as it is written. It might be okay, and it might be because I am having some trouble with it–but I have to get out of “try to save as much of what you’ve already written” and start slashing and cutting and revising judiciously. But I feel very good about the book itself and where it’s going and what I am going to be able to say with it. I have so much to do this weekend! (Sparky really wants my desk chair to sleep in. He jumps up onto the desk and chirps and head butts me a few times. I try to put him in my lap or on my shoulders–nope, don’t want that. He jumped down to the floor just now and is staring at me, using his cat mental powers to will me out of the chair so he can sleep in it. He’s so cute.) But if I stay focused and relax, I should be able to get everything done that I want to get done this weekend as well as get some rest and relaxation. Monday is a holiday, and we may be getting snow by the end of the long weekend. The city will completely shut down if it does; they tend to close roads here when it snows and gets icy because we don’t have the infrastructure to deal with that here, which means if the office is closed, we’ll have to work from home or something; they’re never going to let us get paid and not work unless legally required to.

Capitalism at its finest.

But yes, I feel good this morning. Which is lovely. I think the day will turn out well for me, all things considered. I do want to do some chores around here today, get those dishes out of the way, run my errands and go to the gym, work on my book and do some reading. I do need to make a to-do list (I started making one yesterday but got interrupted and never finished). I am hoping for a terrific weekend, and to get a lot done–but if I don’t, I don’t. There is an extra day to this weekend, after all. Tuesday morning I will have to get up early to find out if the office is closed, and if it is, I probably won’t go back to bed.

And on that note, I am going to go do the dishes and get to work. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and remember to make sure you’re taking time to give your brain a break from the horrors that are to come. And I’ll be back in the morning, most likely.

  1. All I ever have to do when confronted with their attempts to be morally superior, I always reply, “and where were you during the HIV/AIDS pandemic?” That shuts them the fuck up every time. ↩︎

Suspicions

Thursday, last day in the office blog and while I am looking forward to the three-day weekend, I am dreading Monday–for obvious reasons–and will instead try to get shit done while taking the occasional moment to study Civil Rights some more, maybe even read my current nonfiction tome, White Too Long, about how Christianity and white supremacy have been intertwined for so long. But the week thus far has been a good one, and productive; almost like returning to the gym kicked something else into gear physically. I’ve not been physically tired (stiff, yes) or sore much since going back, and I’ve been feeling more energetic and empowered, too. I’m sleeping better, too–rarely waking up during the night or opening my eyes before Sparky gets into the bed with me right around when it’s time for me to get up. I don’t know if its the endorphins awakening everything up again, but I am more than happy to take it; I’ve certainly missed the joy of endorphin highs. I also got some amazing work done on the book last night, and that also felt good. I am doing the things that give me pleasure again, and turns out that makes me happier and more fulfilled and I enjoy my life more than just endure it.

Go fucking figure. No notes, highly recommend.

I really can be remarkably ignorant sometimes.

But the book is, as I said, coming along swimmingly. I’m starting to get into a rhythm, and I’m starting to hear Scotty’s voice again. I need to buckle down and focus harder on getting the book done–not going to be easy with Carnival on the horizon–but I’ve handled these kinds of situations before (a deadline right after Carnival) and I think as my writing muscles stretch and flex and rebuild and wake up again, hopefully I’ll be able to get back into my high productivity gear again. I know I want to start reading Bemused, maybe even as early as tonight, and spend some time with it this weekend as well.

I am also petty enough to enjoy seeing that Dollar General Anita Bryant, aka Carrie Underwood, is still getting dragged for the piece of excrement that she is. Really funny how some (straight white) people think we need to unify behind white supremacy is a serious tell, y’all. I never forgive bullies and I will never forgive Anita Bryant or her modern day iteration, either. I will never forgive people who think I should “rise above” being a target of hatred, bigotry, and prejudice and join hands with my oppressors. You want to be a doormat for the patriarchy, that’s fine–just know I will never forget or forgive, and I will point and laugh and mock for the rest of my life.

Choices.

It rained all day and all night, and it doesn’t feel that cold this morning–maybe I’m getting used to weather in the forties? AIEEEE! But we have nasty weather (as does everyone else) coming next week. It’ll be a little colder–in the thirties, but the wind chill factor will make it feel like single digits… which could bring us…gulp…snow. SNOWPOCALYPSE!!! I really do have to write about a murder on the day of a snowstorm in New Orleans. Obviously, the city freaks out and shuts down almost completely. I imagine I will have to go into work regardless–we rarely close–but a snow day could be fun, too. It’s going to be horribly cold everywhere on Tuesday, as hell is apparently freezing over. Not very subtle there, Mother Nature, but oh so apropos. Looks like the Senate Republicans are going to knuckle under and do what their Fuhrer demands to approve his terrible cabinet picks–never ever bet on Republicans having a spine or a love for country over party–so, yeah. The future’s so bleak I imagine a terminator is going to be arriving from the future at any moment.

Oddly enough, despite that horrible long dark tunnel the country is entering on Monday, I’m also getting excited about writing my next book, which has me champing to get this one written. I feel confident again, and it’s nice to think hey this is good rather than all of this is garbage why do you even bother? I love having creative thoughts and ideas running through my head all the time again. Researching pop culture and the news from the early 1970s has been fun and interesting, and has brought back a lot of memories. It’s amazing what you’ve forgotten about completely but with a reminder, will have a rush of other memories associated with that one. There were so many magazines in the 1970s, about everything. One of my teens is a car nut rebuilding the engine in a junked car since he can’t afford to buy a new or used one, and he basically wants to work on cars when he grows up, despite his parents’ wanting him to go to college, and oh my God how many car/hot rod magazines existed? How many magazines about the music industry? There were so many magazines you could actually have a comfortable freelance writing career, and when Playboy used to pay $5000 for a short story. Five thousand dollars for a short story. I’d weep with joy to get that kind of payday for a short story.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, and I may be back later. One never can be sure.

Sorry, bud, if you’re serving me my morning coffee you need skimpier shorts.

Red Roses for a Blue Lady

Here we are on a cold Sunday morning and I hope everyone is doing as well as they can this morning. I went to bed early and slept well–I really do think adding another to the pile of blankets, and its additional weight, is making a difference. Today I have to do some reading and some writing, go to the gym and make groceries. I feel rested and awake this morning, so as I slurp down my coffee and wake up while Sparky wants my lap in the easy chair I have to admit I feel pretty good this morning. Maybe I shouldn’t let myself sleep so late on Saturdays? I don’t know, but the coffee is hitting the spot and I do feel more rested than I did yesterday, so your guess is as good as mine. It’s kind of gray outside this morning, and it’s forty degrees–yikes–but it’ll get warmer later once the sun is higher in the sky.

We watched LSU Gymnastics compete against three of the best teams in the country yesterday, and with half of their usual competitors out with an injury, they only came in second by three tenths of a point; and Haleigh Bryant can make that difference up all by herself, not to mention the other two powerhouses who sat this meet out–which bodes well for the rest of the season. It’s so cool knowing they are the defending national champions! We also watched some of the Australian Open last night, and I went to bed early. I also managed to get some chores done around here, and overall, it was a pretty good day. I don’t think I even went outside yesterday, to be honest–which is always a good day for me.

I spent some time yesterday morning with Ode to Billy Joe, and while Raucher is a very good writer, he doesn’t really know how to write for teenagers, I think. Just because the story is set in the early 1950s and people were more innocent (?) back then in theory, it’s almost like reading something from a past civilization, and in some ways it kind of is. Raucher tries very hard not to condescend to rural Southerners, but there is a touch of that “zoo animal” thing to the story, if that makes any sense? It doesn’t quite seem real, and Bobbie Lee, the female lead, seems so child-like it’s hard to believe she’s supposed to be fourteen, and “receiving callers”–did Southern girls still say that in the 1950’s? It’s like something from The Glass Menagerie, and I don’t know if that archaic social phrase was in use, if at all. But there’s definitely more depth to the book than there was to the movie, and I think I’m going to end up enjoying the book more than I did the movie–despite the beautiful presence of Robby Benson and his amazing blue eyes and surprisingly deep voice.

Thinking of Ode to Billy Joe being a historical now made me realize that my own 70s book is kind of an artifact of another time, too. Researching and remembering things from that time of my life is always a bit of a surprise; things that had been locked away in a corner of my brain coming back to the front of the memory banks. Television shows and commercials, the looming Bicentennial (which was, at the time, shockingly commercialized; although the Tricentennial–which I won’t make it to, but hopefully the country will–will be even worse), the gas shortages and economic fears, the ever-present threat of nuclear war and annihilation, the never-ending conflicts in the Middle East, and the massive clean-up of the country’s air, water and litter. Top Forty radio was a weird mishmash of all kinds of music, from the bubblegum of the Osmonds to the Rolling Stones, Queen, and the Who to horrible novelty songs that were incredibly popular and were overplayed to death to the point I never want to hear any of them ever again, and everyone watched American Bandstand on Saturdays to hear music and see the latest dance moves. I am really looking forward to writing it. I also have two short stories to complete sooner rather than later, and of course as always I have too much to do in too little time–but I can make it work.

I’ve also, since the election, been thinking about how to resist the new regime and the inherent hatreds, cruelties, and horrors that are coming with them. Our only hope as a country depends on the Republican-controlled Senate (well, Republicans plus the bootlicking traitor John Fetterman) actually standing up for the Constitution, and looking for a spine on the Right is as fruitless as a snipe hunt. I am not getting involved with the Democratic Party, because it feels like I’ve been throwing my time, money and energy on them while they just roll over and play dead since the 1990s; and nowadays seems to be no different. Here’s the thing about our system; the only difference between the two parties since World War II has primarily been on domestic and interior policy; the foreign policy has always been the same, and a lot of bad things have been done by our government in the name of “national security” and our endless thirst for oil. This changed a bit under the MAGA monarchy the last time around–turning our backs on traditional allies while cozying up to Russia, North Korea, and China (Ivanka needs her trademarks!). I also love how the MAGAts are so quick to whine and complain against the forever wars they fully supported, and does anyone else remember their toxic patriotism on the eves of the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq? How questioning the invasion decisions was basically treason and not supporting the military and pissing on the graves of the 9/11 dead? Because I sure the fuck do, and I also remember how the Right created cancel culture for the Dixie Chicks, as country music began to swing from being about the working class and resisting the rich? It’s also amusing to me that they complain about “forever wars” without remembering that the same people they are supporting today are the exact same people who lied to them and whipped them up into a disgusting “patriotic” frenzy?

I spent some time this weekend thinking about writing as activism, and that it used to be just that; my very existence and my career are made political by evangelicals and others of their ilk, and I had no say in that at all. Would I prefer to be left alone to live my life and make my own decisions without government interference? Absolutely. Is that ever going to happen? Not as long as trash and liars and false prophets continue to abuse the faith and the faithful for money, power, and control. How can anyone actually be a Christian and believe that the Prosperity Gospel of wolves in sheep’s clothing like Joel Osteen and other con artists of his ilk? Sinclair Lewis exposed all of this horror with Elmer Gantry, which is still as current as it was when first published in the early 20th century. Maybe Elmer Gantry, along with All the King’s Men, should be required reading in high school–but high schoolers won’t care anymore now than they did when I was one. (Also, back to the 1970s–there wasn’t an expectation that everyone would go to college, either. Only five kids from my graduating class went to college, I think, I could be off by one or two, out of forty-eight.) I’ve not thought of my writing as a way to make political statements–or at least I haven’t in a long time, at any rate, but someone pointed out to me several years ago (or longer, who knows anymore?) that my work was a lot more important than I’ve ever thought or believed; I did document what gay life was like in New Orleans before Hurricane Katrina changed everything. I also documented life in New Orleans in general, before , during and after a hurricane. I’ve written about gay con artists and corrupt hateful politicians and the far right and evangelicals and race and homophobia and misogyny. I often explore something that I find interesting in my books so I can learn more about the topic I am writing about as well as process my own complicated feelings about sensitive subjects. I even wrote a throuple into the Scotty series long before that ever became a subject for conversation in the community. It’s weird to think that my first two novels were released before Lawrence overturned sodomy laws nationally. My sex-life was against the law until I was forty-two. Forty fucking two.

I was filling out the pre-production form for Hurricane Season Hustle Friday, and I went to Amazon to look at the page for Mississippi River Mischief to see if information I needed was there–it wasn’t–but I also noticed I have forty-seven reviews and an average ranking of four and a half stars, which was kind of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. That meant that overall there had to be more five star reviews than any other kind, else the average wouldn’t be over four, you know? This was a very pleasant surprise, in all honesty; I never look at Amazon pages for my books and especially never at the reviews; likewise, I will never go wading in the fetid swamp that is Goodreads. Who needs that aggravation? But as I said, it was a pleasant surprise, one that almost tempted me to look at the others, but I resisted the urge. I am more emotionally stable now than I’ve ever been in my life before, but why borrow trouble? And sure, it could be another ego boost but it could also be a blow.

And the last thing I need right now is something to rock my already shaky foundations.

California continues to burn, and people continue to expose how dark and twisted their souls and psyches are. It’s beginning to sound like most of these fires were started as arson–which would definitely count as a terrorist attack on Los Angeles, in my opinion; if Luigi shooting that fucking piece of shit counts as terrorism, burning down billions of dollars of property and destroying people’s lives as well as killing some of them definitely is an act if terror. Please don’t be a dick about the fires on-line, people. I’ve lived through a different kind of “act of God” that basically destroyed my city and generational wealth with it. Angelenos are still in shock and are going to be for a long time. This is a serious trauma, and believe me when I say a lot of Angelenos are going to be medicated for years to come. I’m still not entirely sure I’ve gotten over Katrina, in all honesty. So, for God’s sake, show some empathy and compassion for their suffering. Playing the blame game or bringing politics into this is fucking bullshit, so can you not do that? There’s no place in this country that is safe from an unexpected natural disaster.

And trust me, when it happens to you–you will hate those people. I’ve never forgiven any of them, including Chicago Bears fans. I had hoped that disgusting child rapist Dennis Hastert would die in prison, but he remains proof that only the good die young. Henry Kissinger and Anita Bryant is more evidence of that as well.

So, think before you post or comment. I hate Florida and Texas and their politics, but I also worry about them and try to do what I can whenever a hurricane devastates them.

And if you’re feeling smug and judgy–I’m looking at you in particular, Louisiana MAGA racists, remember that when a hurricane comes crashing through your home town.

And on that note, I am going to my chair to read my book for a bit before I get to work. I worked on the book yesterday and it went very well; I am feeling good about writing again and think I am going to be able to hit my stride again sometime soon. Huzzah! Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll talk to you again later at some point.

Oh, those wacky ballerinos!

The Tracks of My Tears

Friday morning in the Lost Apartment. It’s going to rain all day today–including torrential flooding-type rains later on and that’s fine. It’s not as cold in the house this morning as I was expecting it to be (thank you, H-VAC system), but I also didn’t get up ridiculously early this morning, either. Sparky let me sleep late, bless his little heart, and I feel very rested and relaxed this morning. Ah, it’s sixty outside right now; that explains the lack of chill in the air. I’d thought it was going to stay cold, but the rain is giving us some respite and it will drop into the forties later–after the rain stops. I have some errands to run today–including the gym later–and I don’t have to work at home for terribly long today. Yay! I am hoping for a productive day. I wasn’t as tired as I thought I might be when I got off work yesterday, and despite the cold was able to come home and get some good work done on the book. Huzzah! I am starting to feel better about my abilities again–the writing I’ve been doing lately has been rather satisfying, and I don’t hate what I am writing. Progress?

Someone posted on-line yesterday–I wish I could remember who it was–that President Carter’s funeral was very hard to watch because “it also felt like a funeral for the United States1“, which was very aptly put. President Carter–a truly good and decent and caring human being, the acme of a true Christian with a very real faith–being laid to rest does seem to end the time of decency and kindness, and all we have to look forward to is the dismantling of our rights, the end of the rule of law, and the looting of the entire country to make billionaires even richer as the world burns as a result of their bottomless greed; the world is on fire already, thanks to those monsters. I keep hoping for a French-style Revolution, complete with tumbrils and guillotines, but it’s probably already too late for the world. I’m probably not the only person who is feeling a bit of existential dread about 1/20 this month? But I continue to monitor my news intake, and ignoring the legacy media has been marvelous. I am not willing to give up my own sanity to give them clicks and ratings this time around, and I need to save my energy and my mental capacity to fight the stuff that really matters. Everyone always forgets he likes to say insanely stupid things for the sake of outrage and attention, while diverting everyone’s attention from what his foul party is actually doing. Of course, knowing the Supreme Court has given him the authority to do anything he pleases, even violate the Constitution at will, is terrifying. How bad are things going to get here? I no longer have faith in the basic overall decency of other Americans; these are the same types of people who cheered the fall of the Roman Republic and the rise of a dictator/emperor.

Freedom is often too much responsibility for people, seriously. Most prefer to be told what to do, rather than think and reason things out for themselves. I grew up in a country that valued education and science; the war on poverty declared by LBJ in the 1960s pushed for adult literacy and for everyone to get their high school diploma, which was sold as the key to a prosperous life. We also lined up as a nation to get every new vaccination that came along in an effort to end deadly disease outbreaks. There was more of a “we’re in this together so let’s work together” mentality, that started going away under the twisted, paranoid and criminal mind of Richard Nixon. (The unconstitutional tend toward fascism has always been there in that party–Red or Lavender Scare, anyone?) I still cling to that childhood memory of a nation that was trying to do better by its citizens for the betterment of all, but it’s one of the many myths I was raised to believe in as a child. It probably wasn’t as true then as I think it was; the 60s were a very turbulent and violent time. My childish brain wasn’t developed enough to cope with a lot of the cognitive dissonance my early miseducation into American mythology created, but as I got older I began to understand “if this is true, then this must be true, and if that is true than this is very wrong.” The only thing I am intolerant of is intolerance, which was also troubling until I read about the paradox of tolerance.

Well I have high hopes for this weekend, and I hope everyone has a lovely weekend too–in whatever way you want. The horror in Los Angeles continues unabated, as does the horror of the heartless smug trash who hate California. I do not hate California, for the record. I lived there for eight years, and while that might not have been the best years of my life by a long shot, that wasn’t California’s fault. California is majestic and beautiful; there’s no more scenic highway than Highway One up the coast from LA through Big Sur to San Francisco. The natural parks and the mountains are gorgeous. The major cities are all so vastly different from each other they might as well be in different states. The last time I was in California was for San Diego Bouchercon, and I had a lovely time. I used to do events in West Hollywood and San Francisco when A Different Light bookstores were still open. I wouldn’t mind living in California, if I could afford it; I’d certainly feel a lot safer there than I would in most of the country.

Anita Bryant is dead, and here’s hoping it was slow and excruciatingly painful. There will be a newsletter about her death, what she did, and why I will not shed a tear for her or her loved ones. There’s nothing like seeing a celebrity on television when you’re a teenager telling you you’re a pervert and a pedophile and a deviant. Back at you, bitch, tenfold. Hope you’re enjoying your backstroke in the lake of eternal fire in hell for all eternity. There will never be forgiveness in my heart for you.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I hope to be back at some point with something else later on today, whether it’s an essay for my newsletter or another post here; we’ll just have to see.

  1. They actually said “america”, but we are NOT America; America is the entire continent, from the Arctic to the Antarctic, and this default is an insult to every other other person born and raised on this giant land mass. Chileans and Canadians and Ecuadorians are just as much America as we are. We need to stop doing this. ↩︎

Little Things

Thirty-three degrees in New Orleans this morning, and it’s very cold here at my desk. I slept deeply and well, forgot to set the alarm last night, but woke up on time anyway–and it felt much better getting up this morning, too. I don’t feel groggy. It was also so cold last night (we had the heat on, but still) that Sparky actually slept in the bed last night, down around my feet! (Paul said after I left for work yesterday morning Sparky got into bed with him and cuddled for a while, too–we may wind up with a cuddle kitty after all!) Yesterday was exhausting at work, in all honesty. We were busy, and I was trying to get caught up on some of my Admin work around the clients, and my ass was dragging by the time I got home from work. We did finish watching Missing You, Harlan Coben’s new show on Netflix, and we enjoyed it. It’s always so nice when really lovely people find a great deal of success, isn’t it? But today is my last morning the office this week, and I look forward to my remote day and my weekend, huzzah! I’m also going to try to make it to the gym tomorrow and Sunday for my two days this week, and I think that’s something that is helping me sleep better.

These wildfires in Los Angeles are terrifying, aren’t they? I have so many friends who live in LA, and of course the last thing any of them need right now is me checking on them to see if they’re okay or out of harm’s way; I remember how awful it was when the mountains around Fresno would catch fire in the summer time. I got up one morning to go to work and it was so hazy from the smoke that the sun was red and it looked like there had been some kind of apocalypse overnight; there were no signs of life, either, and I didn’t see another car until I drove out of the neighborhood, which was creepy as all hell. I’m not sure what the solution to the California wildfire problem might be, but I know it doesn’t involve “turning on a giant faucet up in Canada.” (Jesus, how did this cretinous moron get elected? Oh yes, systemic racism and misogyny–that always works in this shithole country.) It’s always so awkward when friends are going through something horrific like this; I care, obviously, but dealing with well-meaning, concerned friends somewhere else while you’re in crisis–well, they aren’t a priority nor should they be. I never want to be one of those odious chores for someone in crisis, you know? Maybe I overthink it, which I suspect I do a lot more than is completely necessary–which is part of the whole “I never really know what to do when someone I care about is going through something awful.”

That’s where thoughts and prayers comes from, I suppose; the frustration of feeling helpless in the face of something other people are going through. It’s horrible, I know, having felt it myself on more than one occasion–an abbreviation of “thinking about you and sending you good thoughts”–but it’s constant invocation around the latest school shooting massacre (can we start calling them school massacres rather than school shootings, which softens it somewhat? “Shooting” after all, can also mean woundings, but it’s a goddamned massacre AND a terrorist attack, I might add.

And of course, the morons who hate California are out in droves, laughing at this and mocking Californians. What’s especially egregious are the people from Lousi-fucking-ana doing this and being smug about not having wildfires here “because we don’t hug trees down here” and “you get what you vote for”. Can you believe anyone from a state that is in the path of hurricanes and tropical storms every year, and floods on a regular basis without storm surge and hurricanes, would be fucking smug about us not having wildfires? Yet another example of the sorry state of Louisiana education. MAGA cultists really are the absolute worst people to ever live. I wonder what it’s like inside their brains? I always wonder how the cognitive dissonance necessary to keep them from going insane is even possible. I question myself all the time; and try to keep an open mind, so I can adapt and change my values, morals and beliefs based on new information. I can’t imagine freezing my brain in amber and defiantly refusing to learn and grow.

Although–preserving my brain in amber could give way to Jurassic Greg…

Better not, for the sake of humanity.

Okay, on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will check in either later or tomorrow. Stay warm and stay safe!

Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough

Tuesday and here we are moving on into the dead zone of the week. Sigh. It’s okay, I just have to reacclimate to normal four-day-in-the-office weeks again, and I’d forgotten (that short term memory loss cropping up again) how long a week can seem on a Tuesday morning–stretching out endlessly into the future. It’s also very cold in my kitchen this morning; yikes indeed. The heater does an excellent job in every part of the house, except for the kitchen/laundry room and the upstairs bathroom are a bit (much) colder than the other rooms. Currently 33 outside, which is going to be extremely fun to run out to the car in. Layers again today; the high is only in the forties. At least we’re not dealing with the extremes and all the snow that everyone else has to; no shoveling snow or scraping ice off the windshield for one Gregalicious; which is why I won’t live north of I-10 anymore.

Yesterday was a pretty good day, despite the frigid cold (warmer than this morning, though!). I got up, went to the office, worked, ran some errands on the way home, and once I was here, settled in. We started watching the new Harlan Coben show on Netflix, Missing You, and we’re enjoying it so far. I didn’t write anything yesterday, but did do some more work on the book (not much) before mental fatigue set in. We’re going to be busy at the office today, too–but tonight I get to come straight home, which is awesome. Hopefully I’ll be able to do more work tonight when I get home. But cold weather makes me want to do nothing more than curl up under a blanket with a book. But today I have to push through the lazy need for warmth and comfort and get some work done. (Apparently tonight is a “freeze watch,” so we’ll have to leave the taps slightly on tonight when we go to bed; and since the high will only be in the low forties, it will be unpleasant getting home, too. One of my top priorities today is to make a to-do list–a thorough one–so I can make sure I get everything done that I need to be getting done. I’ve really fallen off on my organizing, and I need to get back on top of everything. I have to do some things to send back to my publisher so they can start designing the new cover, which is always very fun and exciting to do. I need to clean out my email inbox, and I need to stop avoiding things I don’t want to deal with. This was always a problem when I was younger, and I’ve kind of slid back into those habits again over the last two years. Meh, I’ll deal with this tomorrow is rarely, if ever, the right answer.

Bad Greg, bad Greg!

Get it over and done with is the proper reaction to unpleasant things I have to do.

More time never makes anything awful more palatable.

But I feel more rested today than I did yesterday. My shoulder is tight and sore this morning, but I just need to do some stretching when I get home tonight and that’ll feel better. My next trip to the gym will either be tomorrow night or Thursday (tomorrow more likely; then I can go on Friday and again on Sunday), and I am getting a bit excited about getting into better physical condition, while also bearing in mind that I will never get back into the shape I was in my forties (when I peaked)–and not really sure that’s something I would want, anyway. I just want to lose some weight and get more toned and firm. Everything currently is sagging, and there’s really no need for that, is there? My ego and vanity no longer care about how I look to other people; I’ve always been a much tougher judge and critic of myself than anyone else–and I am definitely trying to be a lot kinder to myself. Despair is pointless and defeating, albeit very easy to collapse into. The removal of stress and anxiety has been marvelous, but the depression/despair genes aren’t as easily impacted by the new meds as the stress and anxiety–but that is something I can live with. I still have a lot of things to get worked out personally, but I am much healthier mentally than I have ever been in my life, I think, and some of that comes from the long, hard look I’ve taken at my life and career and other people, and my decision to not put up with anything from anyone ever again.

One thing that is really funny hit me yesterday, which was when I also realized how my “don’t want to deal with this now” bit me in the ass, kind of. I had gotten a letter from my bank between Christmas and New Year’s, and figuring it was probably a notice about new fees or higher interest rates on my credit card, I just tossed it into my inbox with a I’ll look at it later. Yesterday I was trying to order something from a website that had my debit card saved there as the form of payment, and was shocked to see my debit card had expired on 12/31/24. Goddamn it, I thought, irritated, I’m going to have to call them to get them to send me a new one. But as I sat in my easy chair last night, Sparky purring in my lap, it hit me–didn’t you get a letter from the bank you didn’t want to deal with? So, I put Sparky up on my shoulders (he loves it up there) and went into the kitchen, found the letter, and sure enough, I could feel there was a card inside–and sure enough, it was my new debit card.

This is why you should always deal with things right away.

Point taken, universe.

And on that note, I am going to bundle up and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and by all means, STAY WARM!

Screenshot