Tag: Sparky

Like a Prayer

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I am up early. I actually was awake and out of bed before Sparky came looking for breakfast. I feel great this morning, which is awesome. I don’t know how the day is going to play out, but let’s see how it all develops, shall we? Yesterday was lovely. I had some groceries delivered and spent most of the day cleaning and organizing and yes, thinking. Sparky wanted to sleep in my lap while Paul was off doing things, so I did that for about an hour or so, or at least until he decided taking up the entire couch was more suited to his nap needs. I did finally send out that newsletter I’d been working on forever; if you’d like to read my measured response to that horror of an op-ed in the New York Times, you can click right here, if you’d like. No pressure!

The Saints lost their preseason game (we didn’t watch; the games don’t matter so I don’t really get into games that are basically practice skirmishes), but these games don’t matter. I had the LSU-Florida game from 2007 on Youtube while I was doing things–prepping for the season–and then Paul came home. I grilled burgers for dinner, and we watched another episode of Furious, which is incredibly well written and acted; Emmy Rossum is fantastic (and always underrated) and it’s walking an interesting line about abuse that I won’t spoil by talking about. Is anyone else watching?

In other sad news, beloved longtime LSU baseball coach Skip Bertman died; Coach Bertman won five College World Series at LSU and built the baseball juggernaut that is the LSU program. I wouldn’t be such a fan of the baseball team were it not for Coach Bertman, and I remember so many great games and finishes while he was guiding the ship. My heart goes out to his friends and family, and I imagine he’s getting a statue on campus at some point. He also kept going to the games after retiring, too–they’d always show him in the stands during the games. It’s going to be weird not having him there anymore.

My birthday looms this week, too; I have taken Thursday and Friday off for a nice long weekend for it. I don’t remember turning sixty, probably because we were still in the throes of the pandemic, and I was buried in work and responsibilities and didn’t notice or make much of it. It’s astonishing to me that I made it this far, frankly; it’s not like the cards weren’t stacked against me. I’m also not one of those “how did the time go by so fast” people, either. It did not go by fast. High school seems like it was in another era completely–and it was very definitely in a different century, wasn’t it? I also like saying things like “well, you know I was born sixteen years after the war ended” or “Kennedy was president when I was born, and I remember Johnson being president, and when Eisenhower died” and seeing the looks on people’s faces. (You also have to remember that I’m at minimum twenty years older at least than everyone at work, besides one person.) Yikes, indeed. I am going to write a newsletter for my birthday–I’m already working on it–that will reflect on me making it to sixty-five somehow (stubbornness, most likely) and so on. We’re going to get a pizza from That’s Amore in Metairie, and we’re going to see the Spider-Man movie, and potentially a Costco run. That sounds good, doesn’t it?

Today I am going to read, and there’s a very short essay I have to get written today as well. I am making Swedish meatballs for dinner tonight (with egg noodles), and hope to get to the floors today, too.

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

Underground wrestler Cason of Thunders Arena. He looks like a lot of fun, doesn’t he?

Everybody

And somehow Saturday has rolled around yet again here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was nice; I had my meeting in the morning after sleeping a little late. I did my work at home duty and the laundry and other chores, ordered some groceries, and relaxed some. It was very nice, actually. I relaxed and cleaned and thought about my writing and what to do next with it. Paul went to the gym after he got home from work, and when he got back, we watched The Shards and Reacher–not realizing two episodes of each had dropped, so we have those to get back to along with more Furious. Paul will be out this afternoon, so I have some down time that I am not certain how to use just yet. I also slept later, finally giving in to Sparky’s entreaties and coming down to give him his breakfast, have my own small starter snack with my coffee, and figure out the rest of my day. I feel very relaxed, rested, and good this morning, which is wonderful. I have some chores to do this morning, so once I post this and also send out my newsletter (I finished revising and rewriting it yesterday evening), I’m going to get cleaned up and read for a bit.

I also have to have some things delivered, so I can make dinner today and tomorrow. We’re once again in a heat advisory (shocking, right?), so I am going to want to spend as little time as possible outdoors. And yes, it’s more evidence of the annual selective amnesia New Orleanians have about the heat and humidity in the summer; somehow we’re surprised every year with how hot it gets here. It always amuses me, and I catch myself doing it all the time.

The Saints’ pre-season games start tonight; Jacksonville comes to town. I’ve never understood the point to the pre-season, and no one’s ever been able to explain why it’s necessary to have one to me. Paul and I went to one at the Superdome before the pandemic, but it wasn’t very exciting, there weren’t many people there, and it’s hard to get vested in a game that doesn’t mean anything. But the season will be beginning for college and the pros soon, and I’m looking forward to both the Saints and LSU this year. LSU has a brutal schedule this year, and has a new coach and a new system. So, we’ll have a better idea of who they are going to be this year after the opener with Clemson in Tiger Stadium. I’ll probably rewatch some classic old LSU games–well, have them on in the background while I either read or write or clean–to start getting amped up for the season. I love college football!

I started watching The Burbs, which I am also enjoying; I love Keke Palmer and am enjoying the show so far. (Paul watched it while I was in Alabama last time, so I watch when I have some down time to relax and don’t feel like doomscrolling through Youtube news clips.) I watched the first episode the other night when Paul was late coming home, and I started the second yesterday.

Sorry to be so brief this morning, but don’t really have a lot to say or talk about this morning. This was my first Friday at home without having to deal with something–employee development day, the car, meeting, etc.–and so this is actually my first regular weekend in a while. I am going to put the dishes away and then reload the dishwasher, and then I am going to take my book and read for a little while. I feel terrific this morning, which is a lovely, lovely departure and I intend to enjoy the day no matter how it turns out.

So, on this note I will depart for the spice mines, and hope that you have the loveliest of Saturdays, Constant Reader, and I will be back with a full report in tomorrow morning.

I love New Orleans in the rain.

Open Your Heart

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah? Huzzah. I slept well again last night–I’m loving all this good sleep this week, seriously–and feel pretty good for a Thursday morning. MY morning is busy today at the office, but not so much this afternoon, so I can get caught up on paperwork and other odds and ends before I go home. I have to stop and make a small amount of groceries on my way home tonight, and then I can chill out. The new season of Reacher has started airing, and we should get some new episodes in other shows we are watching. I think when I get home tonight I am going to get caught up on reality television before Paul and I settle in for the evening with our shows.

I sent out a new newsletter out yesterday (you can click the blue to read it if you would like), about the book of essays on soap operas I recently finished reading and thoroughly enjoyed, Love in the Afternoon and the Evening! It felt good to get another one out–I really do need to answer emails–and I will probably do more newsletters about soaps and aspects of them I enjoyed (murder mysteries, hot guys, etc.) in the future. I need to get back to my essays about masculinity, don’t I? I really do need to sit down and map them out. I also want to finish that essay on gay v. queer. Maybe this weekend? I also want to write one to send out on my birthday next week, not that I have anything witty or wise to say about getting older. Surely, every thing has already been said, and better? Ah, well, that won’t stop me, will it? Not in the least.

The big news is that I finished Chapter Four last night! I wrote over a thousand words last night and polished it off; now I need to go back and make it more cohesive and smooth the continuity–I’m not editing for language or length (I will change some of that, though, I can’t help myself) this time through; it’s just easier to do this continuity shit now before the manuscript gets longer. It also dramatically improved my mood, too. It always feels so good when I have a good writing session! Work was okay yesterday, too–not very busy but just busy enough to make the day pass relatively quickly. The drive home was smooth and easy and frigidly aired1; I also did some chores last night as well as provided a lap for le Sparkster. Paul was late coming home from a board meeting, so we were on our own last night and he was needy, as always (Sparky, i mean). It was marvelous coming down to a clean kitchen this morning–you’d think I’d remember that and make sure I do that every morning, but…sigh. That’s not how I roll, clearly.

Two classic books from the 1970s were on-sale for their ebook editions this week and I got them both: Jaws and Audrey Rose. Both books were what we would call “viral” today; Jaws more so than Audrey Rose, which is a reincarnation story (which has always interested me; it makes more sense than spending eternity singing praises to God2). I didn’t get to go see movies a lot when I was a kid, and of course, before cable and streaming pretty much the only way to see old films was to catch them in their edited for television versions…so, if a movie was based on a book, I would just read the book. (Or the novelization, as I did with The Last of Sheila.) I read Jaws when it came out in paperback, and enjoyed it. Everyone was talking about the book, and it was a huge bestseller. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and even read more of Peter Benchley (The Deep is one I’d love to revisit). I didn’t know much about sharks other than what people would say when we’d be at the beach in Florida in the summer time (trivia note: two of my cousins were extras in Jaws II), so I, as always, looked them up in the World Book Encyclopedia and all the associated entries. We did see the movie when it was released; it was one of those “after church matinees” Mom used to take us to after a lunch at Ponderosa), and the theater was so crowded they had ushers finding seats for people. The only spot with three together was the exact center of the front row….

To watch a shark movie.

It was probably the most terrifying experience I had in a movie theater until some of the Washington Monument stunts in Spider-Man: Homecoming, during which I had to look away because the camera work was so good that it felt like I was on the monument, and yeah, no way, no how, no thanks.

Is Jaws considered a horror novel/film? I mean, it is a monster movie. Horror was certainly having a day in the 1970s, wasn’t it? (I use to call them occult books back then, because I didn’t know that horror was an actual genre until later in the decade, when the media began calling Stephen King a “horror novelist.”)

Audrey Rose isn’t as remembered, partly because the film wasn’t as good as Jaws and it didn’t become a cultural touchstone. It was a big book in the 1970s–I remember it even had commercial ads on television–and it was marketed as straight up horror but it kind of wasn’t. I don’t remember being scared by the book (which I barely remember), more that it was more haunting than anything else, sad and disturbing and melancholic. Anyway, I love reincarnation stories—which goes back to Dark Shadows, as so many things do in my tastes. It’ll be interesting to revisit it; I looked at the first page last night on my Kindle and saw that, yes, indeed–it has a haunting, Gothic sensibility to it, that I always enjoy.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning before I start my work-at-home duties. See you then!

Louisiana has the most spectacular sunsets
  1. It really is astonishing what having working air in the car makes. Honestly. ↩︎
  2. I do wonder how things went viral before the Internet. ↩︎

Where’s the Party

Tuesday morning and how is everyone and everything? I’m okay, thanks for asking. I picked up the car yesterday—it was less than they quoted me—and yes, the a/c now is back to Frigidaire settings. I got in the car yesterday, started it (they had left the a/c on turned up all the way) and by the time I was backing out o my parking place, I had to turn it down. I turned it down twice more before I got home. It’s going to need more work, but not immediately and this repair work can be planned for, rather than dropping into my lap like a meteorite from space. I feel a bit run down this morning–I think subconscious anxiety worked on me all day, because I was very tired before I went to bed last night and I feel some of that still this morning.

We started watching Furious, a new show about an FBI agent (Emmy Rossum) who gets pulled into a case by her former police detective partner, and she is the one who puts two cases together and realizes the same person committed both crimes; we also see the killer’s perspective. I’ve always been a fan of Ms. Rossum, who has a startling range–I said to Paul, watching last night, “SO weird that she’s the girl from Phantom of the Opera.” It’s quite good, at least so far, so we’ll be continuing with it, while we wait for our next episodes to drop. We also finished House of the Dragon last night, and (spoiler) it was lovely to see Ormund Hightower get his deserved end (as much as I love James Norton). I was pretty much too tired to so much of anything last night, but I think another good night’s sleep will make me right as rain.

Tonight I hope to get back to work on writing; as I have repeatedly said, my brain wasn’t in a place for me to do much of anything other than organize computer files while I watched television. Paul and Sparky were also sleepy and tired (when isn’t Sparky, though?), so we all just kind of hung out in the living room while we watched last night. I am also realizing that it wasn’t a normal weekend for me in the first place, since I had no car, which was kind of disorienting. It’s interesting how a disruption to my routine can be; with all the hullabaloo around the car lately and yesterday, I forgot that it was injection day, which also could have had something to do with that weird off-feeling yesterday. This morning I took care of it, and I am already feeling better. Is it a placebo effect? Possibly, but I always feel better after an injection. We’ll see how I sleep tonight and how I feel tomorrow morning. (I did only hit snooze once this morning, but that was also because I remembered that I needed to do my injection before I left for the office this morning.) Or is the coffee hitting? One can never really be sure, can one?

But we’re slow in the clinic today and tomorrow, so I will have lots of time to get caught up on my work today. I am going to go ahead and accept the fact that yesterday was not in my control and that’s why I was off-balance, tired, and so completely unproductive. Hopefully I’ll have the energy tonight to get some cleaning and writing done, before watching television and going to bed. (Sparky will need some lap time, undoubtedly, though.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Ruby Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow on what is once again Pay the Bills Wednesday. Till then!

New Orleans is one of the most beautiful cities in North America, even in the mist and rain.

Lucky Star

Saturday morning and my car is away for the weekend. They are not only doing the body work needed but they are also going to replace the damaged hose and refill the coolant or whatever it is. Freon? Maybe, I don’t know, but it won’t be ready until Monday morning. So I’ll have to take a Lyft to the office Monday morning and pick up the car later in the day. It’s going to cost more than I had hoped but far less than I’d feared. But I am without a vehicle and I am fine with it. I mean, can you imagine having to evacuate without air conditioning? C’est insupportable!

Yesterday was lovely, actually. I did my work and the chores, hung out with Sparky, watched the news (we’re all doomed aren’t we?) because I was a few days behind while I worked, and got most of the chores done. Today I can have some things delivered, and there’s only a few chores left to do this weekend so I can spend it reading and writing, which is marvelous. I should probably get a newsletter out this weekend–I can do one about the book of soap opera essays I finished reading this past week. I also spent some time watching history documentaries–French history is ever so much more interesting than English, really; the curse of the Templars1 and the Tour de Nesle scandal alone makes it better–and read a few chapters of Italian history (this came from the curse of the Templars, whose story actually begins with the French king’s refusal to buckle under to the Pope. (I read a marvelous series of historical novels when I was a teenager called The Cursed Kings, by a French writer named Maurice Druon, about this period–which read more like Game of Thrones than the Wars of the Roses ever did.)

I’m not sure how I am going to spend today–probably reading and relaxing, with the possibility of doing some writing on the horizon. I slept in, and very deeply. Paul has his trainer today and then does cardio, so I’ll be here alone for most of the afternoon with Sparky, who will of course want to sleep in my lap the way he always does when it’s just us. (He was curled up in bed with me this morning while he waited for me to get up for his breakfast.) Cats really are wondrous creatures, aren’t they?

The weather has cooled down some–like turning the oven from 400 down to 375–but of course, we’re so beaten down by the heat by August that low nineties to mid eighties seems almost like fall. (I almost walked home from the body shop yesterday morning, but decided not to risk it. I was sweating at SEVEN THIRTY in the morning standing in the shade waiting for my driver!) I do need to order things for delivery, too, since I don’t have a vehicle for the weekend, which is again, progress. (I would have rented one for the weekend before, but…I can have things delivered and I don’t have to go anywhere.)

And on that note–sorry to be so dull–I’m heading into the spice mines. Happy Saturday, everyone!

Former pro wrestler Alex Wright was a very pretty man.
  1. Remember when The Da Vinci Code turned the Templars into a publishing fad? I do. ↩︎

I Know It

And here we are again on another midweek Wednesday. The weekend is nigh!

Yesterday was a rather nice day. I didn’t want to get up in the morning, of course–the bed was comfortable and Sparky was curled up with me, not turning into the HUNGRY MONSTER for a little while. But I got up, made my lunch for the rest of the week, and had a pretty nice morning before I left for the office. Work was mellow, I was able to get some paperwork and other things done around my appointments. Paul was doing some things in the Quarter, so he got a Lyft to my office and we went to Costco to pick up his glasses, which was relatively easy, given the nearness of the I-10 West on ramp by my office. Tonight I am having dinner with one of my favorite people in the world, and tomorrow I am going to have to run errands on the way home. I don’t think there’s a single night this week I went straight home from work? That’s not the norm, believe you me. I don’t think there’s a single night this week I went straight home from work? That’s not the norm, believe you me. But…I can also remember being so tired when I’d get off work that I couldn’t face stopping for gas on my way home. I wasn’t worn out, crabby or exhausted when I finally got home last night, and wasn’t horribly overheated, either. Having Paul in the car also makes it a better experience always, and we don’t get to ride in the car together that often anymore. I do rather miss the olden days when we worked about the same schedule and I would pick him up on the way home from the Marigny. I miss working in the Marigny, honestly, but I sure don’t miss coming home through the French Quarter, which apparently is a massive driving hazard because of all the Sewage and Water Board construction down there., and had a pretty nice morning before I left for the office.

I did have trouble sleeping last night, which is weird and hasn’t happened in a long time (unless I’m in a hotel somewhere), but I do feel okay this morning; Ill probably be tired this afternoon, but that’s okay. We’re not terribly busy today, either, which will be kind of nice–it won’t wear me out, and I do have things to do, but clients are what make the day go by faster, not paperwork or stocking or filing or quality assurance, which hardly makes the day fly by, ha ha. But it’s work that does need to be done, and yes some of it I put off as long as I can, and always swear at myself when I have to play catch up.

And now I think I may be over-caffeinated, which is definitely possible. I am trying not to eat as much today as I am having dinner tonight (and I usually am not hungry for dinner), so it’s a pattern change (and we all know how my body loves changes in routine); I’ll survive, of course. Just felt like whining for some reason.

So apparently Perez Hilton had a psychotic break on-line last night? Honestly, I’m kind of ambivalent about him. I don’t like not feeling sympathy for people in these situations–I am no stranger to brain chemistry issues–but he’s really a bottom-feeder with serious self-esteem issues. When I first became aware of the entity known as Perez Hilton, I was, predictably, horrified. I guess he felt we needed a crueler, more vicious on-line National Enquirer? We didn’t, but I never clicked on anything, read anything, or visited anything that would lead me to any site hosting him. I thought about killing him off in a book, so I could try to figure out who he is and what made him turn out the way he did. I know this is mean to say, but I kind of got the impression he was lonely and bitter, didn’t have many real friends, and that he’s always been that way. I’m sure he was bullied and picked on for being gay, like so many of us were, and that is something I can empathize with…but the vast majority of us also didn’t become hateful, vicious tabloid celebrity on-line gossip queens; Britney Spears alone was bad enough, but it wasn’t just her, either. It was literally anyone–and the younger and more successful the better. Why would you bully people when you’ve been bullied yourself? There’s something broken in him, which is sad, and for me, I can’t imagine waking up every morning and seeing myself in the mirror and thinking, who am I going to try to destroy today for clicks and money?

I read a lengthy interview with him a very long time ago, that I thought was interesting. He had lost weight (I’d never really known he was heavy; as I said, I avoided him as much as possible) and he really came across as desperate and sad; like he’s always blamed his loneliness on not being in “gay shape.” It doesn’t matter how pretty the packaging is, son, when the inside is soulless and empty. Maybe the problem isn’t external?1 The irony is sometime in the late aughts or early teens I found out what his real name was…and it sounded familiar. Sure enough, I plugged his name into my email browser and found a chain of emails from some year–I don’t remember which–but he used to apparently work for a gay glossy (I want to say Genre, but could be wrong) that I wrote fitness columns for (until they stopped paying me) and he, of all people, was my contact. As I looked through the emails, they were longer than correspondence between a contracted writer and an associate editor–mainly because he was so down on himself about how no one looked at him, and so forth, with me replying to him as though he were a training client of mine. We stopped when they stopped paying me–they still owe me for the last two columns I wrote for them–and I forgot all about him. I had no idea he became Perez Hilton.

And on that note, I’ll head into the spice mines. Have a lovely midweek, Constant Reader, and I will check back in again tomorrow.

Memorial for Sam Wilson, located in Lawnswood Cemetery, Leeds, UK. Sculpted by Edward Caldwell Spruce, it features bronze figures representing Faith, Hope, and Benevolence. The centerpiece is a winged figure holding a torch, with detailed scenes including a skull at its base
  1. I always default to “oh, it’s me.” I never cease to be amazed at how many people are incapable of taking honest looks at themselves…and yes, I know I can be delusional. “I’m perfect so it can’t be me” is a thought that has never run through my brain; I’m wired differently, I guess. ↩︎

Holiday

Here it is Tuesday morning, and yesterday wasn’t terrible, frankly; it definitely could have been worse. I felt a little spacy in the morning, and got a little bit tired in the afternoon, but nothing terrible. The day at work was productive and quiet. I slept well Sunday night, and was reluctant to get up yesterday morning. But neither Sparky nor my alarm would be denied, so I tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of ambition. LOL, as if. More like fumbled down the stairs and turned on the Keurig to make a cup of coffee while Sparky spoke vehemently to me because I wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking–nothing new, when he wants something he wants it NOW. I slept well last night, and yet again didn’t want to get up again this morning, but I survived and got up. I ran a lot of errands on the way home last night–mail, pharmacy, made groceries–and was worn out, hot, and crabby by the time I got home. I did do the dishes and ran the dishwasher overnight, too. I’m trying to keep up better this week, so this weekend I’m not facing another mess–since I have car stuff to deal with this weekend, which means getting up early both Friday and Saturday. Yay! But at least next weekend is my birthday (already) and a lovely four day weekend, with Labor Day weekend not that far behind, either.

We watched House of the Dragon last night, with only one more episode left to go in this season as the show rushes to its final denouement. I”m enjoying the show a lot more, especially since I am realizing almost everyone in the cast will be dead by the series finale–and since so many of them are so completely unlikable, that will be fun. At this point, no one deserves to sit on the Iron Throne, frankly. This, to me, is more like the Wars of the Roses, which was theoretically the basis for Game of Thrones; when that conflict ended there were hardly any Plantagenets left alive as the family pruned the branches of its family tree. (I read in a history once that “the primary English crisis of the fifteenth century was Plantagenet fertility, while the sixteenth’s was , ironically, Tudor sterility.”) The entire thing is Viserys’ fault for not making Daemon his heir when he had no sons; no one would have argued with him then picking his own son over Daemon, as inheritance was to be expected to pass that way, in male primogeniture. Ah, folly in reality makes for great drama in fantasy.

I’m surprised dystopian fiction isn’t rising in popularity, actually.

I did work on the book a bit last night, which was absolutely lovely. Chapter Four is drawing closer and closer to its (first draft) finish, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Given all the life irritations and aggravations I’ve been dealing with lately, I am pleased to be back in the writing saddle again. I do enjoy creating, and even when it’s a struggle (which it is sometimes), there’s always a sense of, I don’t know, rightness whenever I’ve finished writing for the day. I was, to be honest, more than a little concerned that getting my anxiety disorder under control might take the drive to write away from me, and I have fallen off the old production schedule that I used to have, but it’s nice to rediscover my joy and to know the medication taking the edge off isn’t affecting my writing, now that I am in a place where I am writing again. I also have noticed the insecurity/Imposter Syndrome has also dried up almost completely (it still rears its ugly head every now and then), which is absolutely a godsend.

Alas, I’ve not cracked any of the three books I am currently reading since the weekend. Paul is coming by the office at the end of the workday so I can take him to get his new glasses at Costco. We’ll be heading against traffic–it’s a very easy drive to Costco from my office, thanks to I-10–so it won’t be too terrible. I am also choosing to see this weekend’s car stuff as a positive. I’ll have a/c again when it’s all over and done with, and I can read while I am waiting for the car when I’m at the dealership (not waiting at the body shop for it), and I will already be on the West Bank, so maybe I can run by Sam’s while I’m there and stop at Sonic for lunch. I can also get a lot done while I’m home waiting for the body shop to finish working on the car. So, over all, a positive, and I can sleep in on Sunday morning if need be.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and may you have plenty of tacos! See you tomorrow morning!

Are we really supposed to believe he has a beard and NO body hair? LOL.

Love Without Words

Saturday, August 1, and coniglio! Coniglio!

Let’s see if that works; it did for Trixie Belden in The Mystery of the Emeralds.

It’s Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment. Sparky got me up before seven this morning–His Majesty was HUNGRY–and I decided to get up and feed him. Once I was out of the bed, I decided to get cleaned up and get going on my day. Yesterday sucked–I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say the a/c in my car still isn’t working and I need to take it to another place first because some “body work” needs to be done, and it really doesn’t sound cheap–but I am shaking it off today. I’ve never had to spend much money on this car since buying it and it’s been about ten years. So, let it go, I can’t do anything about it until Monday, anyway, and why let that spoil my weekend when I have free time, I still feel good, and tomorrow we’re going to go see the new Spider-Man movie. So, lots to look forward to, and today I am going to try to get some stuff done around here. I need to order groceries for delivery (too hot to drive there and back), and I need to get the house back under control again. It’s not that bad, but the last couple of days I’ve let things slide a bit. I did read some of my book yesterday, and it’s really fantastic. We caught this week’s Sugar, and I think tonight we’ll dive into The Vampire Lestat.

I also have those Emily Wilson translations to dip into, as well. And a newsletter to get out, but them not going out consistently has been an issue from the first, and I do suspect the only person I am actually disappointing with any of this is me, you know? But they are fun to write, and while I do forget things I wanted to say in them from time to time, and I don’t proof them as thoroughly as I should before they go out, but I am also not going to get anxious or stressed about them. Paul is going to work with his trainer today and then is going to ride the bike at the gym, so I should have the entire afternoon to myself for downtime, reading and writing and more cleaning. Why is there always more cleaning to do? Heavy heaving sigh. I did decide to treat myself to a long birthday weekend this month, so I have my birthday and the Friday after to accept that I am officially elderly. It doesn’t bother me (much); it’s more shocking to me that I made it this far, with so much stacked against me. Making it to 65 as a gay man in this country was no small accomplishment, but honestly? Pure damn luck. I made it through the HIV pandemic without getting infected–miracle of miracles, especially when it seemed so damned unlikely any of us would make it through with anything other than PTSD and guilt. (The guilt has always been tough for me to deal with–why me? Why did so many wonderful and talented and brilliant people die? And yes, I’ve been thinking about this since the circus the other day with Dr. Fauci, whose true crime to conservatives is that he helped stop gay men from dying.)

Maybe I do see homophobia everywhere, but you know what? That’s what it almost always is–enough times that it’s not a surprise when that does turn out to be the case.

It also pleases me to no end to see Tom Holland and Zendaya starring in the two biggest movies of the summer. I’ve always liked her, and of course, his lip-sync to Rihanna made me a life long fan of our short king. He is also one of the rare examples of a child star who grew up into a successful and always working adult actor/star.

I was also amused to see the Department of Justice and that pig Jeannine Pirro had to drop charges against “reflecting pool vandals” when it turned out to be a result of shoddy installation on a (surprise!) a no-bid contract for one of the Harkonnens’ friends? Everything the Baron said about the reflecting pool was a lie (as everyone with a brain and one working eye could see), and his minions jumped in line–against all reason, against all sanity, and above all else, against the Constitution–to snap to his insane logic and mentality and excuses. His supporters should never be allowed in public again without being shamed for the bootlicking quislings they are. (I laugh every time they call him “Daddy”–showing they are all fucking betas and will roll over, ass end up in the air ready for his penetration) Karoline Leavitt and Jeannine Pirro will go on to jobs at Fox, next to Sophie “Maga Skipper” (Barbie would never) Cunningham.

And when this is finally all over? Watch the centrist Dems try to close the book and “move on.” We saw this after the Bush Crime Syndicate left office in 2009, and way back when the Republicans sold out southern Blacks for political power. (They haven’t changed from what they became under Grant.)

What this country has allowed itself to become makes me appreciate that I am old, and I do not ever wish I were younger. Ever. And I wouldn’t go back in time even if I could.

And on that note, I am going to get some more coffee and take my book over to my easy chair. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

I’ve always loved stained glass. I played with it as a hobby in my twenties, but could never ever dream of doing something so artistic.

Fragile

Wednesday and somehow, it’s Pay the Bills Wednesday again. Go figure, right? Time keeps on slipping, into the future…. Time keeps on slipping, into the future…. Time keeps on slipping, slipping, into the future….

I’ve been spacy this week and I am not really sure what that’s about, honestly. I don’t mind–I’m being productive and getting things done, but I think I’m still not used to all this free time that I have now. I’m used to worrying about things I have to do when I’m taking down time, and I’m also so used to having so much to do all the time that I can’t comprehend having actual down time without anxiety. I’m still wrapping my mind around this. Trust me, I don’t miss being that busy or that Type A in the least. So the week is going well. I haven’t been doing much reading this week, either, but after I get home tonight–depending on how miserable the drive home in the heat–I want to do some reading. This a/c in the car not working thing is very unpleasant (fortunately I am not in the car that long), so I will have to bring the car in this Friday. It’s fine, I haven’t been over to the West Bank in a while, and I should see what else I should do while I am over there. I have to make groceries on the way home, and of course, not having a/c in the car is going to make the trip even more marvelous. Heavy heaving sigh.

Yesterday was a good day, even if I was tired. The plumber is coming to look at the sink tomorrow morning, so I need to empty the dishwasher tonight and do something about the dishes in the sink, which are too dirty to load into the dishwasher, but I can at least hide them in there to get them out of the sink and out of their way. Yesterday was a nice, busy day at the office, and I stayed caught up on everything. Our site visit is today, too. Two more days of July, so I also have end of the month duties to look forward to tomorrow and Monday. Yay! I know this sounds like I’m spoiled, but not having cold air in the car during a excessive heat warning is the pits. By the time I got home yesterday I was drained; the heat just sucks your soul right out of you. I fed Sparky and gave him some attention (he loves to sit on my shoulders and head butt me) before collapsing into my easy chair to cool down from the hideous heat outside. Paul was home, so we watched some Jeopardy before diving back into Ride or Die, which we are loving. Hannah Waddingham and Octavia Spencer need to be in everything. I went to bed at a relatively decent time and slept like a stone. I’m debating running errands on the way home tonight in the heat; there are a couple of things I need, so maybe I should just swing by and make some groceries on the way home but not drive uptown for the mail until after I get the car serviced Friday morning. It does seem smarter. At least then I will know if there’s anything wrong with the a/c compressor.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mins. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I will see you tomorrow on my last day in the office for the week day blog.

This is such an 80’s look! Sweaty and everything torn for a glimpse of lovely skin. And lots and lots of oil.YayYay

School

Oddly enough, this past weekend I was thinking about my experiences in school (while being a little taken aback by how long ago I graduated high school; two years will be the fiftieth anniversary of that). Public school was unpleasant for me after we moved to the suburbs (it was fine when we lived in the city), and I always figured the other kids somehow figured out that I was gay and bullied me until we moved to Kansas, where I had one good year before it started up again. How do they always know? What I actually didn’t know was that my sister (and why wouldn’t she have told him, or my mother?) told my father (in the wake of Mom’s death) that I was bullied pretty badly. Dad brought it up at some recently (I think during the May trip) , but he had an entirely different perspective and one that had never occurred to me before; “you were so much younger than everyone. Not only should we not have let you skip a grade, we should have held you out a year.”

Wow. Wasn’t prepared for that massive paradigm shift in my head canon. I also recently read a post from someone who, like me, had been bullied for being gay in high school, only to have one of his bullies reach out to reconnect like nothing had ever happened…which is also something similar to my experience; people I went to high school with are stunned that I remember being bullied and don’t have good memories. ‘But everyone loved you!” they always say, and I am always taken aback by their reaction. Is it…is it possible that calling me a fag was just…teasing and didn’t mean anything more? And I can remember, actually, hearing them call other guys that, too–an insult and a joke…so were they really just teasing me, considering me one of the guys? Did it sting so badly and horribly because it was true, and they didn’t know? And of course, given my brain chemistry issues…

And yes, I was sixteen when I graduated from high school. I was almost three years younger than some of the kids in my graduating class.

I will have to explore this in an essay at some point. Two or three years in teenager is a fucking lot. And it seems like my sixties are my decade for reflecting on the past.

But it’s Tuesday, I am awake and drinking coffee, Sparky is being annoying because he wants attention and my body doesn’t feel quite awake yet. The heat warning is going through the weekend (!!!) so again, probably going to try to stay inside as much as possible. There’s only a month left of this extreme heat…yay? There were some systems out there they were watching for potential hurricane development, but this morning’s check of the NOAA web page shows nothing of interest, which is different from the last time I looked at that map. But the local weather also shows nothing to watch out there, so I guess those systems disbursed? Not sure how to feel about that and whether to trust it or not, but….nothing to worry about is nothing to pay attention to. Our garbage disposal also–per our landlady–has a clogged filter so my kitchen sink spigots don’t let any water through. This started on Sunday, but Sam the handyman wasn’t around yesterday, but he’s out there this morning so I will tell him on my way out to the office and hopefully, tonight I can do the dishes. Yesterday was very miserably hot, so much so that the a/c in the car never blew cool. I was concerned–it needs freon, I think, so Friday morning I’ll have to drive over to the West Bank (due for oil change, too) and get that looked at–there’s no way I can survive a summer here without functional a/c in the car.

We are all caught up on House of the Dragon, and watched another Ride or Die. I was glad to see Sir Criston die horribly and dishonorably; personally I loved that he challenged his foes to a duel only to get an arrow in the chest in response. It also made me think of an allegory last night, as Rhaenyra and Daemon continued to make mistakes and fail at ruling; it’s much easier to capture a throne than it is to govern, as the Republicans remind us over and over. The only thing they are actually good at is being an opposition party. Democrats are shitty at opposition but good at governing for the most part. Isn’t that always the way? Westeros is descending into chaos again–and chaos, as we remember from Littlefinger, is a ladder.

Yesterday was a kind of weird one, honestly. I did feel off all day, not really sure what that was all about, but I also managed to get current on everything. I did some writing yesterday, too, but not much but it was something, a couple of hundred words, but it was some progress and every word is one word closer to having a completed first draft. I am coming straight home from work tonight, and if the sink is working I’ll do the dishes, and then I am going to reread what I already have done and make notes–I already have some for Chapter One–and hopefully this weekend I will be able to get more written, since I’ll be camped out inside the house all weekend. The house is a very lovely cool oasis from the heat and humidity. Oh! I also figured out some more Scotty things! Which makes me happy, you have no idea. I was beginning to think Scotty was gone from me now…horrors!

And on that thought, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you again tomorrow.

@DavidFlorentine also does excellent New Orleans photography. Follow him on social media! I love this moody sunrise shot of Pirate’s Alley.