Tag: Sparky

I Got You Babe

Well, I survived returning back to work yesterday. I really thought I’d have trouble getting up yesterday morning, but I was awake when the alarm went off the first time–and yes, Sparky was a kitty puddle at the foot of the bed who immediately woke and strolled up along the side of the bed for head butts and purring to get me up. I also made it through the day without ever getting tired, and I was sure I would; I woke up several times during the night, and it seemed to always take a while for me to go back to sleep. I did sleep more deeply last night, and I feel pretty good this morning. Which is weird, of course; I shouldn’t feel more rested and better later in the work week, but when have I ever been normal?

I haven’t wanted to be normal in decades. And this particular oddness is something I’ve noticed before.

But overall, yesterday was a pleasant day. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got off work, which I’d been concerned about, and ran my errand and came home to play with Sparky. Paul worked at home yesterday and went to Hoshun to get us dinner (a treat for my birthday, delayed a day) and we watched the convention again last night. The DNC is simply killing it this year, aren’t they? Whoever planned this convention deserves a huge raise. It’s also lovely getting reminders of how good and deep the bench of next generation party leaders actually is. Who do they have? Lauren Boebert, Marjorie Taylor Greene, and Matt Gaetz? Give me Jasmine Crockett, Wes Moore, Josh Shapiro, Andy Beshear, Pete Buttigieg, and Eric Swalwell any day of the week over those fools. I stayed up to watch Governor Walz–and what a wonderful, amazing, normal family he has, and how much do they all love each other? I know Vance’s biracial children have been completely moved by how their dad has defended their mom–oops, never mind.

And tonight the Vice-President will accept the nomination, and I can’t wait to watch.

The humidity has broken here for a few days; we’re having an unusual cold spell which will result in lots of storms all week next week, and then…it’s Labor Day weekend and college football starts. LSU plays USC in Las Vegas that weekend on Sunday night, and I don’t know if I’m ready for another college football season this soon. I don’t think we’ll be going to any games this year, alas, but that’s okay. No one is really sure how good LSU will or won’t be this year, but most seem to be cautiously optimistic. The schedule is rough this year, too. Two of the non-conference games are USC and UCLA, and I think they play both Texas and Oklahoma this year in addition to the usual SEC meat grinder–although Auburn and Mississippi State have come off the schedule. (Note to self: print the schedule and put it on the fridge; same with the Saints. Sigh. I can’t believe it’s already football season! But I am ready for fall weather–or what passes for it around here, LOL.)

I managed to book an eye appointment for a Saturday in September, and yes, I booked it during the scheduled game that day, at South Carolina. Which is fine, actually; I don’t mind driving out to Metairie in the morning, and I can always get something to eat out there that I usually don’t have access to–which is even better. I probably should stop and make groceries tonight–we need a few things–and I also need to get gas as well. I keep forgetting I need to get gas every night this week on my way home, and if I’m not careful I’m going to wind up stranded on the side of the road somewhere. (Not the end of the world; my insurance has roadside service so I’d just have to wait for someone to bring me some gas so I can get to a station–but this is something I’d have had anxiety about before the new medications, and boy do I not miss the anxiety!) Note to self: get gas on the way home tonight.

I’m working at home tomorrow, so I get to sleep a little later than usual (if His Royal Highness Sparky will allow it–he will most likely not), and of course, I have some chores to get done this weekend. I ordered new kitchen towels for my birthday, which delights me to no end, and I am thinking about upgrading some other things around the house. I also need to clear out some more books and get the boxes down from on top of the cabinets, and maybe even start on the boxes in the attic. Whoa, Nelly, slow down; you’re feeling awfully ambitious this morning (it’s the coffee, no doubt) and by this afternoon you won’t feel like doing anything at all when you get home. There’s a load of dishes in the dishwasher to run, and there’s also some laundry to finish, too. It truly never ends!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have an awesome Thursday, and I may be back later. I’m tricky that way.

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me

Up early on a Sunday, thanks to Sparky. I got up, fed him, and decided to have some coffee and stay up. I got eight hours, did I really need anymore? I thought when you got older you slept less? I don’t know. All I know is I’m able to sleep a lot later than I used to, and sometimes my body feels like it needs more. We’ll see how today goes, and I can always take a nap if my body needs one this afternoon. I am debating whether or not to make a grocery run today or wait till tomorrow to do it. But the coffee is starting to kick in, and I have a lot of chores to get done around here today. I did go get my RSV and flu shots yesterday, ran some errands, and came home to watch more Solar Opposites, which continues to be a hilarious delight. I barbecued for dinner last night, and managed to get to bed earlier than I usually do on a weekend.

I can get everything done this morning and try to get a lot of other chores done before Paul gets up. I started writing a new essay for the Substack yesterday, which counts as writing, and hopefully I can get some more writing done today. I also got the ARC of Alison Gaylin’s January release for next year, We Are Watching, which looks fantastic, so I really do need to get back to actual reading again. I have two days left as a sixty-two year old, so kind of just easing into my sixty-third (although it’s really the sixty-fourth, you aren’t born at age one you’re born at zero; your birthday marks how many years so far you’ve completed). I cannot believe August is nearly half over already, but that means cooler weather is not that far off–and by that, I mean the high seventies, low eighties. That may seem hot to you, Constant Reader, but to give you an example, it’s going to feel like 120 in New Orleans today.

Maybe I’ll stay inside and go make groceries tomorrow. That makes more sense to me. I also have some things being delivered to the apartment today, too, so yeah, maybe I’ll wait and go tomorrow morning. Less people, less traffic, and less aggravation. Maybe I’ll treat myself to Five Guys, too, while I am over there. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had a good greasy burger, you know? I bought one of those dinner kits from Fresh Market to make for dinner; I don’t remember what, but we really liked the shrimp scampi one we had the last time I got one, and we’ve genuinely liked the others I’ve gotten. So I don’t need to worry about what we’re having for dinner today and there’s no need to get to the store to buy anything. Tomorrow night I think I’ll make salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, to change things up a bit, and then I really only have to go into the office for two days this week. Next week is a full week, but then it’s Labor Day and Southern Decadence. I’m not going down there–too many people, too hot, and I’m too old to stand around all day (which I am really not capable of doing anymore), but I hope that everyone who does has a great time while staying safe at the same time.

Ernesto is still out there heading up the east coast, churning up waves along the shore and it’s either already hit Bermuda, or is very close to doing so. There’s no other systems at this time anywhere in the Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico, or Caribbean Sea1, which is a lovely relief, but we are not out of the woods yet, either.

We had some rain yesterday afternoon, between me running the errands and cooking out, and it was a beauty of a thunderstorm. I’ve always loved thunderstorms, you know, ever since I was a kid. Is there any feeling as marvelous as being in your easy chair, covered up in a blanket reading a good book while there’s a thunderstorm outside? It’s definitely one of my favorite things. Paul and I were watching television when it happened, but Sparky did go to sleep in my lap which was very sweet and endearing for the little demon.

And I think I am going to bring this to a close this morning. I am feeling more awake now, and think I am going to go get cleaned up and get the day moving. I have chores to get done and writing to do, and I am getting a bit hungry. So I may be back later, I may not; it’s a mystery. But may your Sunday be blessed, Constant Reader, and remember to stay positive!

  1. I always spell ‘caribbean’ wrong the first time; I am always certain it only has one b and two r’s. WRONG. ↩︎

I Can’t Get No Satisfaction

Blergh.

I am up way too early this morning, and I can’t even have any coffee. I am having labs drawn this morning, and I need to fast for them…so I always schedule it for super-early so I can get it over and done with and back home to the shower and my coffee. I am not working at home today like I usually do; we’re having a department meeting and although I had permission to join the meeting on Teams…I also had some admin work to do in the office so I figured I might as well just go in person and do my work time there. I mean, I took Monday and Tuesday off, so missing out on a work-at-home day when I have four days off in a row isn’t going to be a major issue for me. And it’s not a full day, anyway. We’re going to Costco after I get home from work later, and I do have some errands to get taken care of this weekend. But I took Monday and Tuesday off for my birthday, so I have four days to relax, read, clean, or just do nothing if I so choose.

Well, I am home from having the labs drawn. I won’t spare you the gruesome story of the poor phlebotomist who had to locate a vein–the vein he finally found in my right forearm only gave one vial, so he then had to use my left hand; it actually didn’t hurt (I’ve steeled myself to having blood drawn, and having it done so regularly for my PrEP prescription has kind of inured me to sharp pointy metal things going into my skin. I also scheduled my flu shot and my RSV vaccine for tomorrow morning, so look at me–getting all this medical stuff knocked out and being pro-active about my own health, which is actually kind of lovely. It’s one of those things that I consider “ooh, look at me being a responsible adult” which is kind of a reaction to being told for so long that I was so completely irresponsible by so many people. I do enjoy, however, those moments when I behave like an actual adult. (I’ve set the bar pretty low for myself, in case you couldn’t tell.)

Despite being tired on my way home from work last night, I did do a speck of writing. I’ve been thinking a lot about a short story that’s been in progress for almost ten years, but I was never really sure how to end it, or really what it was about. I got the idea for it when I had to stop to use the rest room at a rest stop in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. There was only one other car there, and it was running with the passenger door open. At first I was amused–I guess someone really had to use the bathroom pretty badly–and of course my next thought was that it was probably a woman…but as I walked up to the building and went into the bathroom there was no one in the men’s room, so I assumed I was right. But after washing my hands, I walked back out and the car was exactly the same as it was when I passed. I called Highway Assistance–in case it was something serious and there was a woman lying on the floor in the bathroom or something, and once I was back on the road again, I thought about the situation all the way to my parents’, and pictured a woman coming to the same rest stop and encountering the same situation, only she finds an unconscious bleeding woman in the bathroom…and the main character is really not in a position herself to call the police. A picture of the Smoky Mountains on Facebook–the riotous colors of fall–came across my feed over the weekend, and it put the story back into my frontal lobe, so I decided to work on it some more this week since it was taking form in my head. I know why the main character is there, I know why the bleeding woman is there, and all I have left is deciding which ending is the best. I didn’t write much–Sparky kept distracting me before Paul came down to watch television with me–but I did get some writing done, and that feels simply wonderful.

Anyway, this day is going to feel off all day because it’s out of the ordinary. Getting up and out for the lab work; coming into the office for a meeting and to catch up on Admin work here that should be done before I leave for my brief vacation this weekend–odds and ends, really, that shouldn’t wait until I return to the office on Wednesday.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this strange Friday. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I doubt I’ll be back before tomorrow morning.

Help!

Wednesday and it’s Pay the Bills Day again! Woo-hoo! I didn’t sleep through the night–getting up a couple of times, but I feel rested and fine this morning. Go figure. I hit a wall again yesterday afternoon, and was very tired when I got home last night. I did have my Sparky time, collapsing into my easy chair and getting caught up on the news; he expects this time now, because I’ve trained him to expect that after I get home and he gets fed–just like he tries to wake me up every morning at six on the days I don’t have to get up. Friday I have to go to Quest to get labs drawn at seven in the morning, and I also have a department meeting that morning as well, so I’ll roll out of bed and stumble, bleary-eyed, to Quest, then come back home and swill coffee and get cleaned up to head into the office (since I am already there, I am just going to do my hours at the office rather than coming back home to do work-at-home duties.

We started watching The Decameron last night before giving up after the second episode. It’s a great idea and I love that they made a show about one of the great classics of history, but it just doesn’t really deliver completely. There were some great moments, and it might get better, and I also see why they made it; a bubonic plague show, after the pandemic? But it just wasn’t engaging in the way I would have preferred, so we watched an episode of Evil, which we’d been watching before the Olympics and had forgotten about. But it’s kind of a fun show–a religious X-Files, basically–and it’s engaging.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own work–probably because I’m not really doing any of it at the moment–and why I write it and what can I do about the dumpster fire the world is turning into. I’ve mentioned here several times how much I wished we had a Louisiana John D. MacDonald type writer, addressing the exploitation of Florida and the environmental damage that exploitation hath wrought on the state (Condominium is a great book about greedy developers and corrupt politicians), and originally I always was thinking someone else would be better to do it than me. But…that’s really laziness on my part, because studying the ecological disaster Louisiana has become (with no bottom to the disaster in sight, especially given what we have in Baton Rouge now) was a lot of work. I’ve always wanted to address the situation in Cancer Alley1, which is a stain on the nation. Those communities are mostly black and completely poor, so you can imagine how much our politicians–including those representing those parishes–care about them. It is a disgrace.

And that’s not even taking into consideration the erosion of the wetlands, making Louisiana at even higher risk of disaster during hurricane season (which we are in right now).

And given what we are dealing with in terms of political leadership these days (Project 2025 is already here), someone needs to start talking about this stuff.

Why not me? Although I suppose it would mean resubscribing to the MAGA Times-Picayune again, which totally sucks. Heavy heaving sigh. Can anyone be a local crime writer without reading the local paper? Probably not, so I might as well bite the damned bullet and get back on that train at some point. I hate having to compromise my principles. But I also don’t have to enjoy it, do it? And with football season on the horizon, sigh. Their coverage of LSU, Tulane2, and the Saints is really the best. Sigh. I’ll just donate the same amount to the Harris campaign.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

  1. “Cancer Alley” is the eighty-two mile section of the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, with a ridiculous amount of petrochemical plants and refineries in the poorer parishes, where the rate of cancer is insanely high and everyone knows it’s the factories poisoning everyone, but no one ever does anything about it. It is Louisiana’s shame, frankly. ↩︎
  2. See, Ellen? I don’t always forget Tulane. ↩︎

Wooly Bully

Friday and working at home. I have a team meeting at ten on-line this morning along with other various work-at-home duties; I also have errands to run later on when everything is finished. I feel rested this morning, despite getting up so damned early (Sparky was very insistent this morning), and so while I swill my coffee and wake up, I can hopefully do some things around here, too, before I get to work. The kitchen isn’t nearly as bad as it usually is on Friday mornings, so I don’t have to start there this weekend to straighten up the house, which is very exciting. I’m going to try very hard this weekend not to succumb to the temptations of doing little to nothing. The boil water advisory was lifted yesterday, and today’s heat index will max out at 109. I was able to come straight home after work yesterday, which was really nice, and I spent the evening getting caught up on the day’s news before switching over to the Olympics. I always hate when they come to an end, and they really are uplifting and fun to watch; inspiring. (I bet there will be a lot of Olympic romances published next year.)

I do have that figure skating short story…it’s kind of noirish. Maybe I should revisit it?

The next Olympics will be in Los Angeles, just like in 1984. I lived in California then, and to this day I regret not applying to work at the games. But…it was a different time and a different world, too.

I came to the conclusion last night that part of the problem I am/was having with writing Never Kiss a Stranger was that old one-two punch of writer’s brain: fear that I’d fuck up telling the story, and fear that it won’t be the book that I want it to be. Which is absurd on its face; and haven’t I felt that way about every book I’ve written more than once during the process of creating the story? Maybe it’s different for the big names, but I am never fearless when I am writing something. I’ve never heard any of my friends who are writers I deeply admire and respect ever feel a lack of confidence in their work, or in their ability to tell the story they want to tell. I think that is definitely something I need to work on, and I don’t feel afraid about writing the book now, so hopefully that is progress. I think taking this Olympic break from writing was perhaps one of the smartest things I’ve done as an adult. I am itching to get back to it, I let my mind rest and heal, and my body had settled into my routine at long last. Likewise, I have to get back to reading every day, so I can get caught up on my reading, at least from this year. I am so far behind on so many of my friends’ and favorite authors’ books; but at least I know that I have some great books to read through the end of the year. And yes, I think I am going to do some reading this weekend.

I kind of feel good about things. I like that I am establishing boundaries, and enforcing them. I like that I am digging out of the hole and rut and everything else of the last few years. I like my life now that I have time to kick back and enjoy it, and relax without guilt. I like my job, I love writing, I am finally getting the apartment into a nice, comfortable living space by clearing out the clutter so no one will have to after I depart this world. I am back learning how to cook new recipes, and having quite a good time doing so. The heat is tiring, of course, and that also affects how I get things done after I get home, but the summer will be ending fairly soon and then I can get back into the swing of some other things, like regular workouts and things of that nature. I am making progress on my debt, which is also pretty great.

So, on that cheerful and hopeful note, I am going to head into the spice mines. You go on and have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later on.

Don’t Stop Believin’

Thursday morning and last day in the office this week. I think I have a prescription to pick up; I neede to call and see if it’s ready or not during the day today. I was tired yesterday–I’ve been mentally weary all week for some reason–and was very happy to come straight home from work. I resisted Sparky and finished the dishes, which need to be put away tonight. It was very nice to come down to a clean kitchen with nothing on the counters and the sink empty. This kind of also puts me ahead on the weekend, too. Huzzah! I still have some filing and straightening and organizing to do around the house. The Olympics end this weekend, which means technically I can start writing again this weekend–I mean, ending a few days early on the embargo isn’t going to be the end of the world or anything, and I am kind of itching to get back to writing again. That, by the way, feels good.

I feel decent this morning, too. I’ll probably get tired at some point during the morning, and I am sure my butt will be dragging come this afternoon. I also need to get the mail today–maybe tomorrow; it depends on timing–and I do have some errands to run tomorrow. Maybe the mail can wait? Who knows? I do have a meeting tomorrow in the morning, and I made an appointment to get my labs drawn next Friday (fasting labs, and no way am I fasting all morning and not having coffee; there was nothing available for tomorrow until the time of my meeting). I feel very good about getting back on top of my health stuff, and my insurance issues are all ironed out. I have one more leftover issue from the surgery, and I hope to get that taken care of this weekend. Thank God.

In other big news, I deleted my Twitter account yesterday. I just bit the bullet, went in, and deactivated my account. I don’t care if someone else uses it because I don’t think I will ever go back there. I know, I know, I should have done it a long time ago. Being there only helps as another user to count towards advertising revenue, and I don’t want any part of that on my soul and conscience anymore. I went back and forth over the morality of being there still (friends who are only there, etc. v. being complicit with that vile company) and pondered the hypocrisy of that, while keeping my newsletter on Substack1 and actively working to build an audience there. It wound up not being that difficult of a decision, really; I realized that the only times this week I’ve been tense or irritated has been because of Twitter and morally bankrupt people there, so it’s clearly not good for my mental health. I deleted it for my own well-being in the end, but making it about ‘taking an ethical stand’ is verifiably false. I don’t like getting credit for something I don’t deserve, and there was nothing noble about deleting my account other than self-preservation. I don’t even know why I went there in the first place, to be honest. I’ve never really gotten much joy out of being there, and what joy I managed to find there didn’t make up for the absolute horror of being there. I was never targeted or swarmed, it was never anything like that…but what is allowed there under the guise of “free speech” (and they decide what is protected and what is not, with a heavy thumb down on the scale on the side of being fascist or enabling it) is horrific and shameful and disgusting.

I did enjoy removing the app from my phone, though. It was almost as satisfying as slamming down the phone receiver used to be.

We’re also still in a boil water advisory, and today’s “feels like” is going to be 110. Woo-hoo! But it’s August, what can I expect or what more can I want? This weekend is also the Red Dress Run (which is how Garden District Gothic opens, or was it a different Scotty? Sigh), and there are some other things going on around town as always–Dirty Linen in the Quarter (it’s the Quarter’s version of White Linen Night, and I really should write about both) and there’s a Drew Brees pickleball tournament (I’m not really sure what pickleball is, to be honest, and not sure that I want to, either), too. Sounds like a good weekend to stay home to me, doesn’t it? It’s going to also be horrifically and horribly hot, too.

And on that note, I am heading down into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll most likely be back at some point later.

Greg Louganis, seen here in his Olympic debut in Montreal as a teenager, winning the silver medal. I was enchanted by his incredible physical beauty.
  1. Two people I really respect in this business are still at Substack, and since they have better ethics than me and are, in general, much better humans than I am, I will defer to their judgment in this case. ↩︎

As We Go Along

Tuesday morning and for whatever reason, I feel much more rested and awake this morning than I did yesterday. I felt off all day yesterday, partly because I was sleepy still for most of the morning, and never felt like I ever completely woke up. This morning I feel like a new person, which is very cool. I like when I feel rested.

So yeah, I felt off most of the day yesterday. I started getting my work done and got most of it done–I’m still behind–and ran my errands after work. It didn’t rain on me on the way home, which was a lovely change, and so I got the mail (and a copy of Jericho Brown’s The Tradition). I also started reading, of all things, The Iliad last night. I’ve never read it or the Aeneid or the Odyssey–lyric poetry–even though I was very aware of the story and everything about it. (I had a Trojan War/Greek mythology era in my childhood.) I was actually enjoying myself as I read it while glancing up at the Olympics (I am really going to miss the Olympics when they are over.) So I did manage to get some reading done last night, which was incredibly cool. Maybe this weekend I’ll spend some time reading poetry and trying to learn about it. I was thinking about that last night as I drove around town, that the extra time I have now can be spent either relaxing or studying poetry or teaching myself something. I am going to definitely schedule in some German on Duolingo; and of course I want to keep studying Louisiana and Alabama history.1

I should have cleaned the kitchen when I got home last night. Sigh. I’ll have to do it tonight, and get the house a bit under control. It won’t take long–wouldn’t have taken long yesterday, either, but I gave in to Sparky’s cuddle needs and so I came down to a dirty kitchen again this morning. And before I knew it, the Olympics were on and I was sucked into the excitement of sport again. It was great seeing Louisiana’s own Mondo Duplantis win the pole vault and set a new world record competing for Sweden, the floor exercise was amazing–I can’t believe they didn’t air the medal ceremony, well done, NBC. The pictures of Simone Biles and Jordan Chiles bowing to gold medalist Rebeca Andrade was epic, and went viral, so why would viewers want to see it? I love the Olympics, and getting Snoop to go as our official ambassador was genius, but so much of the coverage in prime time–when they’ve had all day to stitch together the show–isn’t good. (Although my favorite was the woman griping about ‘why do they have a quarterback commenting on gymnastics?’ to get the reply “John Roethlisberger was a four time all around US champion and Olympian. You’re thinking about Ben Roethlisberger who quarterbacks the Steelers.’ I laughed for a good few minutes there, because her post had actually confused me and I didn’t know what she was talking about…for good reason.)

It’s funny because yesterday I was talking about not getting more books, only to get up to notifications that the new Gabino Iglesias and the new Donna Andrews are on their way to me now, which is marvelous. Maybe spending some time with The Iliad last night has reopened the flood gates to reading again….I guess we’ll find out this weekend, or maybe even tonight.

You know what’s really funny? This forced “Olympics break” from writing was the smartest thing I could have ever done. Sometimes you just need to trick your brain. By going from I should write every day and then feeling like a loser who can’t take part in his passion anymore, to I am not going to write for two weeks has absolutely worked. All I’ve really wanted to do these last ten days or so (however long it’s been) is actually write. I allow myself to hand write in my journal, but actually typing out fiction or non-fiction, and immersing myself in it? Not allowed. Maybe, just maybe, this means when the Olympics are over I’ll be eager to get back into the swing of writing every day.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

Tear Drop City

Monday! A new week, full of options and possibilities. Isn’t that the best way to look at Monday, rather than groaning about having to go back to work after the weekend? I suppose it’s easy for me to say that because Monday is my administrative day at the office, so I ease back into my job and don’t see clients until Tuesday. It was a nice weekend, to be honest. I didn’t get as much done as I had planned–I never do–but I got what needed doing done. It was a weekend of watching the Olympics, which I always enjoy, and relaxing and hanging out with Paul and Sparky, which is always my favorite thing to do. I need to shave this morning, both my head and face, but overall, it should be a relatively easy and stress-free day for the most part. Huzzah!

I can’t believe it will be August soon, too. I did not work on that short story this weekend whose deadline is Wednesday, but I may be able to get some of it done this week. I forgot all about it, to be honest, and that’s why I need a to-do list to reference. (Note to self: do that today, or else you’ll be floundering all week.) I guess the first thing on the list is to actually make one? Smart, because that way I can cross something off the list to begin with and feel like I’ve accomplished something already. Now that I think about it some more, that’s what I always used to do, too. It’s weird not remembering things like that, and then having it pop back into my head. That’s been happening with my writing lately, too–I’ll remember something that I used to do, or always do and have forgotten about. I remember that with Murder in the Rue St. Ann I started using Tennessee Williams quotes to open my books with, and that I gradually moved away from that over the years to using other quotes to kind of coyly suggest what the theme of the book might be to readers who are paying attention, or are simply marvelous quotes about either being gay, or New Orleans. I have a quote or two for the opening of the next Scotty–I changed the name of it yesterday, not wanting to play with fire–and yesterday I was thinking about the book, and what it was going to be about going forward, and I found another way to involve Scotty’s family, which will be interesting to play out, since he and the boys are staying at his Diderot grandparents while the renovations are being done on their Decatur Street home–so I can also riff on how different it is to live in the Garden District as opposed to the Quarter, where he’s lived most of his life. (I am calling it Hurricane Season Hustle now; which doesn’t seem to tempt fate quite as much as the previous title did, plus I was going to use that title for the fourth Scotty that fateful summer of 2005….)

Pretty cool.

I think this is going to be a good week, or at least this morning feels like it’s going to be one. I think I should probably keep getting up early on my weekends so I can get more done; the sleeping late always seems to give me a more lackadaisical approach to my weekends, and I inevitably end up losing track of time and suddenly it’s after twelve and I haven’t gotten anything done that I wanted to get done, which is never a good thing. And while I don’t like the idea of getting up every morning at the same time–I guess on weekends I could push it back from six to seven, so it’ll feel like sleeping late but really isn’t that much–if I want to get things done on the weekends efficiently I’ll need to get up early. Maybe I’ll let myself sleep late on Saturdays? I don’t know. But I need to shake things up in my life and get back on my regular horses again–writing and the gym. Both will make a difference in my life, won’t they?

I also need to read more. It’s weird that I have reader’s block, which I didn’t even know was a thing. But if I get up early on weekends, I can get the blog done early and can repair to my chair to read for a few hours over my coffee in the mornings. Perhaps if I look at sleeping late as cutting into my reading time, that will get me out of bed on the weekends…or I could continue using my weekends as down time where I mostly futz around the house. And the books continue to pile up around here while I let them go and don’t read. Heavy sigh. And I have so many marvelous books to read around here, and more coming in on the regular, too. And maybe there’s a connection between my not reading and not writing, too. Hmmm. They do kind of go hand in hand, don’t they?

Something else to unpack.

Story of my life, really.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday; I’ll most likely be back later, and if not, I’ll be here again tomorrow morning!

World and Olympic gymnastics champion Daiki Hashimoto

Star Collector

And now it’s Tuesday. It’s a bit gloomy outside, and we’ll be getting rain again today (it’s been a very hot wet summer thus far), but I am awake and ready to go while I am sipping my coffee this morning. It also tastes quite good, I might add. I slept decently last night, and feel pretty good this morning. We have a light clinic schedule today, so I hope to be able to get caught up on paperwork and things today around said schedule. Woo-hoo!

Yesterday was a pretty good day, over all. I had a nice day at work in which I got a lot done, and then came home to chill out and relax with Sparky. I went through the manuscript, and didn’t have to do anything to chapters one and two (they need a revision, of course, but that can wait until the whole draft is finished and I start working my way back through it again) after all; it was chapters three and four that needed restructuring and pulling apart. I did the pulling apart and slapping back together last night; I need to reread the two chapters and revise them and make them flow more smoothly before I move on to chapter 5, I think. We’ll take care of that tonight, methinks. I am excited to be writing again, which is always a lovely thing.

We did watch another episode of Those About to Die, which I am not loving, but it’s a light entertainment, and it has a pretty good cast. Like Spartacus and all its iterations, there’s a lot of muscular men and some homoeroticism with some gay characters–not loving the way they are depicted for sure, but my internal jury is still out on that. I am still having trouble focusing on reading, but am hopeful I can make a breakthrough on that this weekend. I just keep getting more and more books that I am dying to read, so having “reader’s block” isn’t helpful as far as that is concerned. The new Ellen Byron is out today, starting a new series set in the California mountains that I knew so well from living there in the Big Valley1 and being close to all the major mountain parks like Kings Canyon, Sierra, and Yosemite. In fact, both Sorceress and Sleeping Angel are set in those mountains, in a town I loosely based on both Oakhurst and Sonora, so in some ways I am going back to my roots by reading her new release. I’ve not written about living in California very much here; I am currently writing a very long entry about my love/hate relationship with Kansas, which briefly flared up over the last weekend. The thing about me is that, despite being crazy and unbalanced and all those lovely things that come with my chemical imbalances, that no matter how miserable I was in the macro sense, in the micro sense I always wanted to have fun so I wouldn’t have to think about how miserable I was until I got to the point where it was overwhelming and miserable, and the thought that that was how I was going to have to live for the rest of my life was unimaginable.

The closet is a horrible, strangling thing.

And yes, I will probably write about living in California at some point, unless I run out of time, which is always possible. I could get hit by a bus on my way home from work tonight–oh, last week, traffic driving home was absolutely miserable; it took me forty-five minutes to travel what is usually a fifteen minute drive last week, but last night I got home in slightly over ten minutes and there was no congestion anywhere, which was peculiar. Hoping that holds true for tonight.

I also have to say I am feeling a lot better about the world in general these last few days. I am actually feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time, and think we might be able to save this ship from sinking into fascism. I also am delighted the media has exposed itself for the craven opportunists they really are–the mask dropped forever–and it will be a long time before any of them will be forgiven by me. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

  1. Yes, the San Joaquin Valley is The Big Valley of Barbara Stanwyck television fame. ↩︎

Goin’ Down

Monday and back to the office this morning, woo-hoo! Yesterday was an interesting one. I got up later than expected, did some chores, got cleaned up, and had a book breakthrough, so huzzah for all that. It rained most of the day, heavy downpours around thunder and lightning. The power even flickered once. Sparky and I spent most of the day cleaning and doing bits and pieces and odds and ends while I was thinking about the book and coming up with some answers. I love rainy days when I can stay in the house, you know? Paul went to get a tattoo, and that was when I worked on some essays and picked apart my book, and then he brought a pizza home from Midway on Freret (they are most excellent) before we started watching Those About to Die, which is interesting but…a bit disappointing at the same time. But there’s queer rep, and we’ve already seen some male nudity. The CGI isn’t terribly good and is kind of obvious, which pulls me out of it when it happens, but overall, not bad at all.

Yesterday the mega donors and the news media, along with rich old white men like George Clooney, David Axelrod, and Rob Reiner got their wish (along with the party donors and the news media) and President Biden announced he would not seek the nomination of his party at the convention. My spirits sank immediately, particularly since the racist old fucks never said “step aside for KAMALA HARRIS the vice president” but made it plain that not only did they want the President gone, they wanted to pass her over. Within an hour, though, the endorsements started coming in as the rank-and-file of the party (you know, the voters) started getting inspired and money started flowing and by the time Paul got home, I was excited again1 and ready to get out the vote and donated…to her campaign, not the DNC. From now on, only the candidates I am supporting will get a donation from me directly, no more party donations or PAC donations or anything like that for me. Y’all blew it, as far as I am concerned.2 I also love that Beyoncé has already endorsed the Vice President, and can Taylor Swift be far behind? There’s going to be a lot of racism and misogynistic bullshit being flung from the right for the next three months, and the conduct of the news media during that time will have to be monitored to see if they are on a redemptive path. If not, I never have to watch or read them again and will go with either the Philly paper or the Los Angeles Times.

I feel inspired now, and hopeful. We can do this and save the country, expand the Supreme Court to mitigate the Trumpian/Heritage Foundation damage to the judicial branch, and pass some goddamned laws. We also need both chambers–and there will be, undoubtedly, Manchin 2.0 and Sinema 2.0, and the Pass the Torchers certainly cannot be trusted to act like Democrats. And I will say, as much as I have always liked Joe Biden, I love Kamala Harris. She was my candidate in 2020, and was bummed when she dropped out, and thrilled again when President Biden selected her. I love that we now have the dichotomy of a convicted felon running against a former prosecutor. The right is scrambling now–all of their anti-Biden plans and ads and everything now have to be scrapped while they try to come up with attacks on her. It’ll start with her not being a citizen, of course–alas, we still have birthright citizenship in this country regardless of Project 2025 (which is already being test-driven in Louisiana)–and then the law and order party will no doubt attack her as a cop, which is far too easy to counter–so it’s all going to boil down to her being a biracial woman. You know who else’s parents weren’t citizens? The first nine presidents. There will be all kinds of legal fuckery coming, too–since they can be certain of a favorable rubber stamp from their operatives on SCOTUS, but for some reason I feel much better this morning. I still don’t trust the media at all, but…there are other and better sources that didn’t spend the last four years dragging down the man who saved the country.

As for the book, as you may have noticed, I’ve been having trouble moving on with the fourth chapter because I am at a stopping place for the chapter but it’s not nearly long enough as it is, which means restructuring the first four chapters again. This chapter, for example, can begin in the previous one–where the chapter ran further than I should have allowed it–and it won’t kill me to pull these first chapters apart and put them back together in a better order than I already had them in and perhaps then I can move on. This is a good idea, and it’s been so long since I’ve written a book where I had the time to sit and think and realize I have to go back now in order to move forward–usually I just have to bulldoze through it and hope it all plays out in the wash–which is probably another reason I feel like my work could be better. More time doesn’t mean better, of course, but the stress and anxiety I usually feel from writing a book on deadline feels pretty fucking marvelous, to be honest.

And on that note, I think I am going to get cleaned up and head into the office. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back later.

  1. But make no mistake, the Pass the Torch people are on my permanent shitlist and I will never forgive them. I’m still carrying a grudge against Susan Sarandon from 2000. I will carry a grudge to the fucking grave. ↩︎
  2. I, for one, will never forget that it was Biden who got President Obama to change his mind about marriage equality. ↩︎