Tag: Sparky

You’re the Reason God Made Oklahoma

Wednesday! Yesterday wasn’t bad; I felt pretty good yesterday morning when I got up, and that feeling did last throughout the work day. Yay! Monday was odd, but it had to have been a combination of sinuses and possibly some low blood sugar. I spent Monday kind of low-key resting and eating, and it paid off by feeling good on Tuesday. I just need to keep an eye on said blood sugar while I am out of town this weekend and next week. Sigh. But I am definitely looking forward to listening to Alafair and Laurie King on the driving. Woo-hoo! Reading is reading, even when it’s just listening.

I’m hoping to get a newsletter out today, talking about Barb Goffman’s wonderful short story “Baby Love.” Fingers crossed! It was a bit sad coming home and knowing Paul wouldn’t be coming home from the office (usually my mind just defaults to he’s working late) ; but it was much worse getting up this morning because he definitely wasn’t home. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy down time for just me, but…we’ve been living together for over thirty years now and I’m used to having him around. The apartment also seems so enormous and roomy when he isn’t home; who knew such a small guy takes up so much space? He does, however, have a big personality.

So does Sparky, for that matter. And me. Probably why the place always seems so small to me.

I wasn’t tired when I got home from work, and so did some things. Sparky needed some attention, so I did that (walked around with him on my shoulders, sleep in my lap) while watching and getting caught up on the news, such as it is. Lord. It’s so disheartening. This ballroom nonsense, and the way they all just fall in line to give their god-emperor everything he wants–after the desecration of a national landmark, no less–is just sick-inducing. They claimed we were like this with Obama–but Obama didn’t slap his name on the Kennedy Center, and had he torn down the East Wing of the White House without congressional approval to spend money we don’t have, MAGA would have stormed the White House. (Of course, they already showed their utter contempt for our government buildings when they defiled and desecrated the Capital in one of the most horrifying and shocking and unpatriotic assaults on the country in history. Future generations will be most unkind about this period of US history. MAGA doesn’t care, of course; they’ve always only been concerned with the present and never look ahead.

Don’t get me started on how they glorify a non-glorious past.

I feel pretty good this morning. I slept very well last night, and Sparky was all cuddly this morning trying to get me up to feed him instead of in attack mode. And one nice thing about Paul being gone is I can turn on lights upstairs while I’m getting ready instead of doing it mostly in the dark. It’s the little things? I slept so well last night I must have been more tired than I originally had thought when I got home from work. It was shameful I didn’t do more chores last night, but Sparky needed attention and since I am boarding him at the Cat Practice Friday–yeah, I don’t have a problem with spoiling him before he gets put in the crate.

Oh! I never posted this! Sorry to be so late, have a great day, and see you tomorrow!

Handsome Agustin Della Corte, who played Roque the gay rugby player on Olympo. I loved Roque! And what a great character name!

Talking in Your Sleep

I am hoping that this morning won’t be like yesterday. It was quite odd. I felt nauseous and warm when I got up after a fitful night’s sleep in which I could never seem to get quite comfortable. I kept feeling warmer and warmer until I was sweating and overheated and quite sick. I laid down for a while, watching more videos about 1970s horror movies (television and film) which was quite fun. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday; I suspect my sinuses had a lot to do with yesterday’s bout of yuck. I need to stop and get Claritin-D on my way home from work tonight…to an empty house, as Paul is departing this morning for his trip up north. So, yes, I am very well aware Sparky is going to be very needy tonight and the rest of the week until I take him to the vet’s Friday on MY way out of town. Sigh. But I did sleep well last night and I feel pretty good so far this morning. I think I’ll be fine.

I tend to get paranoid about my health now whenever I am not feeling 100% after last year–and at this time one year ago I was horribly sick. I missed Paul’s birthday last year because I was sick, and of course, it’s today and he’s leaving. We seem to never have much luck these last few years for his birthday. I think we’ll celebrate after we both get home next week.

Because I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, I didn’t accomplish a whole lot other than watching the television with Sparky purring in a cuddle puddle in my lap. I did read another chapter of The Egyptian Cat Mystery and Listen for the Whisperer, and I scribbled a lot into my journal. I’ve done a lot of scribbling in my journal lately; I realized as I finished my red journal last night that I had only started the red journal after the first of the year….and wasn’t even halfway finished with it a mere month ago–so that’s a lot of scribbling these past few weeks. What I’ve been doing lately is trying to write after work on weekdays, and letting my mind and body have the weekend off….so I just give my creative ADHD free rein on the weekends and scribble in the journal. And the way my brain has been going these past few weekends has been pretty amazing. So many notes, so many solutions, and so much rewriting and writing to be done. But…nothing will ever get done unless you start, right?

One by one, step by step, and you will gradually get there. Patience is always the key and the one thing I always seem to have in short supply.

And while I did spend almost the entire day in my chair under a blanket with a remote in my hand, I did scribble. I also watched some fun Youtube videos; I also watched some on Louisiana, Kansas and Alabama lores and legends, some news (Lord), and I also watched (rewatched? I don’t remember) All Make: The International Male Catalogue, which was interesting. It also ties into my study of masculinity and gender, because it was influential in changing the ways men dress. I used to get it, of course, but I don’t remember if it was the 1980s or the 1990s when I did. I bought a swimsuit and a pirate blouse from them once; the swimsuit was iffy quality (I also realized that the swimsuits and underwear didn’t make the models look the way they did, but rather showed off their impressive bodies; they were selling the illusion that clothes made the man rather than the reverse) but the pirate blouse was for a Halloween costume, and it lasted forever until I have it away to someone else to use as a costume.

One thing you get used to living in New Orleans is the recyclability of costumes.

I was very disappointed to hear that Don Lemon interviewed Keith Edwards1 on his show last night, and it needs to be said and addressed and no longer swept under the rug: we have a severe racism problem in the queer community. Edwards will never beat the racism allegations; I’ve seen and heard what he has to say to Black women, and his condescending superiority for such mediocrity on full display. Why was he so vested in the Texas primary? He doesn’t live there and never will. Why were so many white gays determined to bash and demean and undermine Jasmine Crockett? Bowen Yang and his trashbag friend Matt Rogers already showed how much work gay men have to do to get their heads right, but not having full white male privilege, they do like to hold on to what their skin and their genitals provides free of charge to them in this country. There have been times when Lemon has mis-stepped before; what “journalistic” need did platforming Edwards fill? Nothing, just two privileged gay men chatting? I can hear that at work anytime I need to–and at least, I know at work the conversation won’t be steeped in male privilege and racism. I don’t know. I don’t like criticizing Black gay men, but how can you ignore all the Black women screaming at you about the misogynoir Edwards is very happy to display on social media and his videos? And not even ask the question?

I’m not sure I entirely trust Talarico–he’s got charm and charisma for sure, but I also don’t trust Graham Platner in Maine, either. They say they won’t be another Sinema or Manchin, but Fetterman ran as a progressive only to show his unwashed MAGA ass once he was elected, also like Sinema, who I hope to have the chance to slap across her grifting face some time. I know I won’t live long enough to piss on her grave, but I am very hopeful I’ll be able to do that to Fetterman’s.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning tomorrow. Till then!

The Chicago River at night as it flows through downtown on it’s way from the lake–or did they finally allow it to flow into the lake again?

  1. Who apparently got his start working for Andy Cohen at Bravo? Yet another crime to lay at his misogynist door. ↩︎

Ring of Fire

Monday and I am staying home from the office this morning. I didn’t sleep as deeply as I would have liked, and woke up several times before the alarm (and Sparky) got me up. It was after getting up and pottering around the way I always do that I started feeling hot and started sweating and my stomach git a little bit on the roiling side, so that along with a bit of being tired…and yeah, it was a no-brainer. I think my sinuses kicked in overnight somehow, and yes, blech. I really dislike being sick, but it’s one of those things you can’t control. Paul is departing tomorrow, and I don’t leave until Friday, so I am going to be home alone with Sparky–who will need lots of affection and reassurance and cuddling. I don’t mind that, of course; I just am hopeful I’ll be able to do things in the evening as well. I should be able to just read, too, if Sparky’s need for my lap is overwhelming.

Sigh.

I did send out a new newsletter yesterday, about my set of World Book Encyclopedias that my parents bought the summer I turned nine; they may have been birthday gifts? But they were treasured possessions I still miss sometimes; I miss being able to pull down a volume and just open it randomly and start reading. But as I said in the newsletter, I don’t have space for them in my house and they are, despite holding so many wonderful memories for me, they are in the end just things. I was proud of myself for getting it done and sent out on the weekend; I still missed the midweek one, though. We can but do better.

We started watching The Beast In Me last night, and I am really disappointed that none of you convinced me to watch sooner. It’s exceptionally well done, and the performances of Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys are exceptional. It appears to have been based on the story of Bobby Durst and Susan Berman–after the disappearance of his first wife; that jumped out at me right away. WE watched three episodes last night, and while I don’t know what Paul’s schedule is like today, maybe we’ll be able to finish it tonight.

This weekend was lovely, in all honesty. I did get some chores done, and I did some reading: a short story I want to write about, and another chapter of Listen to the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney, which I am enjoying a lot. I had never really read her works before in an analytic kind of critical mind way, and so things are striking me this time around. Her plots usually involved a young woman with some sort of traumatic past, trying to find resolution in the present day, and very often involved her getting to know a family she’d never known before. In Listen, the heroine is heading to Norway to meet, for the first time, her birth mother, an Oscar winning actress whose career was ended by a scandalous murder on the set of her last film. She uses a more formal style, like the older Gothic writers, but she updates and modernizes it. I’m looking forward to writing about her and the book in a rather in-depth newsletter.

Obviously, given the newsletter post of the weekend while revisiting a novel I originally read when I was ten or eleven, I’ve been thinking about, and trying to remember, more about my childhood and the influences on me and my work. If I had never credited the encyclopedia as a major influence and having a great impact on me, I certainly never credited the made for TV movies of the 1970s! I used to love watching the “Movie of the Week,’ which if you didn’t watch when it originally aired, you might miss completely unless it was rerun during the summer. (Hard to believe we used to plan our lives around television so completely when now everything is available on demand.) I have a book about those movies, particularly ABC’s–and over the weekend I found videos on Youtube from horror fans remembering how amazing some of those films were, despite low budgets and bad sets. SOme of them were terrifying–Crowhaven Farm, The House That Wouldn’t Die, Scream Pretty Peggy, The Night Stalker and Do Not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate. They often starred either fading movie stars or television stars, or a combination of the two. The 1970s were also an interesting time for horror movies and novels. This is when Stephen King got started, after all, and I was a fan from the moment I started reading the paperback of Carrie when I was a freshman in high school.1

But probably my favorite Stephen King book was Danse Macabre, which doesn’t get nearly the love it should. Reading it broadened my mind to think critically about genre, and it also introduced me to any number of writers I grew to like and admire, like Harlan Ellison. I should revisit that…it was the first easily accessible academic tome I’d read at that point, and I loved how he got into literary theory through applying it to horror. It’s still not that much different these days, but literary writers always give genre writers grief —oh you’re in it for the money–and it was much worse back then when very few genre writers were considered literary writers, too. Stephen King wasn’t taken seriously until he was well into his career–despite his genius, his originality, memorable characters, an uncanny eye for human behavior, and his ability to make unbelievable situations feel absolutely real. I had already read some horror before Carrie–I Am Legend by Richard Matheson, The Other by Thomas Tryon, The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty, and Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin jump to mind–but King got me truly interested in horror as a genre and to consider writing it (I spent most of the 1980s trying to write horror to no avail).

And on that note, I think I am going to go lay down for a bit. I feel a bit queasy still, and you never know how my stomach is going to be these days. Have a happy Monday, Constant Reader, however you choose to spend your day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

  1. King was also another revelatory author for me, but that’s for another time. ↩︎

The Closer You Get

Sunday Funday in the Lost Apartment, and how are you doing this morning? I feel good thus far; Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning and that was marvelous. My coffee is going down well also, and it’s a little less bright than usual outside. Yesterday was nice. I ran my errands and did some chores around here, and spent some time scribbling in my journal notes and ideas for newsletters and stories and where the book I am currently working on is going to go next. I also scribbled out some notes for a possible Chanse novel, which I am toying with. It’s not a priority or anything, but I will write that book if I ever have the time and I figure out the entire story beforehand. Chanse can never be a “fly by the seat of your pants” type story, and who knows? Maybe outlining a book again might be good for me. Who knows?

I finished watching Fit for TV last night, and ugh. As a former working fitness professional1, I disagreed with everything they were doing on The Biggest Loser–even that flip-sounding pun in the title (The winner is a loser!) didn’t sit right with me. I know the show was very popular and kind of a thing, but it seemed–to me, at any rate–like they were exploiting these desperate people and mocking them at the same time. The show wrapped its cruelty under the hideous guise of “helping”, which also enabled people to watch, not from empathy, but to be cruel and laugh at them, which is something I cannot now, or ever, condone. I have never enjoyed cruelty or mockery because I know how it feels to be on the other end of that. Watching this documentary, which was absolutely horrible and painful to watch from the perspectives of former contestants, is very compelling, and showed that I was right. What they were doing to the contestants wasn’t healthy or good for them, wouldn’t provide long-lasting results, and they would eventually put all the weight back on–further emphasizing that sense of helpless defeat they already experience. Being heavy in our society and community isn’t easy, and losing weight (and keeping it off) is a significant challenge (ask me how I know). It’s very easy to feel defeated, beaten, and like a total loser–and being on a show called that isn’t psychologically healthy for anyone.

We caught up on our in-progress shows last night–Hacks, The Boys, The Comeback–and started watching another series about a cult, but it wasn’t very well done and we turned it off without finishing the first episode. I”m not sure what we will be watching this evening, but I want to get some things done this morning and this afternoon to get them over with. There are still chores that need completing, too. If I get everything done, or not, isn’t worrisome to me. It just simply is, you know? I don’t have any deadlines, but I need to get moving because I do have so much to do, and I need to stop feeling overwhelmed by the extraordinary amount of work I still have to do. Anxiety was always such a good motivator for me…but I was also thinking yesterday that as long as I continue to feel good physically and mentally, maybe I should go back to the gym this summer and try to once again get my body back under control–and my weight. It’ll be harder now that I’m older, of course; everything gets tougher the older one gets…but I also don’t think I’m ready to spend the rest of my life in my easy chair with a remote control affixed to my hand, either. I also picked my audiobooks for the trip next Friday: The Note by Alafair Burke and A Letter of Mary by Laurie R. King; I love the Mary Russell series and I love gradually working my way through it leisurely. I didn’t do any reading yesterday, alas; but I intend to do some this morning before showering, ordering stuff for delivery later, and of course, picking up around here.

The MAGA Civil war continues to rage, and I do have to confess I am really enjoying watching it all while munching popcorn. This stage was all too predictable; when you base a movement on hatred and bigotry, it is inevitable that once the decline begins they would all turn on each other. It’s also been interesting seeing people having the scales of American mythology removed from their eyes and finally being cognizant of their selfishness and recognizing at last the truth about this country and its history. For me, letting go of the myths and opening my eyes made me more than a little angry about being lied to and brainwashed for so much of my younger life, but it also made me a better person, I think. Likewise, recognizing that all oppression is the same only branded differently also opened my eyes to the struggle racialized Americans have endured for hundreds of years, making me a lot more of an activist for other causes besides queer ones. If one’s rights are abridged, then everyone’ are abridged and at risk–and the twenty-first century has plenty of examples to go around, you know?

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head over to my easy chair to do some reading (after cleaning out my email inbox). Have a lovely morning, Constant Reader, and may your Sunday Funday be simply marvelous and a load of fun. I’ll be here again bright and early tomorrow morning. Ta ta for now!

The buck moth caterpillar–those spines sting and hurt like hell.
  1. I was still teaching aerobics and training clients when the show started airing. ↩︎

I Don’t Know Why You Don’t Want Me

Thunder woke me up from a lovely deep sleep around five this morning, and we had a marvelous thunderstorm (and downpour) that last for about three hours…and yes, it was snug and comfy in the bed, especially after Sparky joined me in the bed for a cuddle-nap of his own. It now looks as though the storm has passed–and yes, I know Jazz Fest is this weekend, and yes, it sucks for the attendees and acts when it rains, but I still selfishly want more storms. I have to make groceries and get gas today, and would rather not do it in the rain…but it would be lovely if it kept storming this morning. According to the weather, we may have more later today and the drizzle we’re experiencing right now will last another couple of hours. I can also scratch “wash car” off the to-do list. Thanks, rain!

I slept well and feel good this morning. Paul is leaving on Tuesday for a week, and I am heading north next Friday for Alabama and then a few days in the panhandle visiting my recently widowed aunt. Sparky will be boarded (and get those razor blades trimmed), and he of course will be glued to me like velcro the entire time Paul is actually gone. Yesterday was a good day; I ran a couple of errands after work and came home to try to do some cleaning and picking up around here–as well as thinking about the work in progress, whose name may change…it occurred to me yesterday that there was a better title than the one I’m using–but I do love one-word titles and rarely get to use them.

We ordered pizza for dinner last night and finished watching Unchosen, which was, indeed, a wild ride. I am not certain they stuck the landing, but whoever came up with the idea to use the trope “a stranger comes to town” only having the “town” be a religious cult was a genius. It was very well done, though, and it was a fun ride. I do recommend it–Fra Fee is gorgeous to look at, and the acting is incredible–and since “cult”…you really don’t know what’s going to happen, and the surprising twists are all earned; there’s nothing there that wasn’t set up if you were paying attention. And as I said to Paul as we watched, “cults are really about the subjugation of women as lesser” and yup, that even holds true for the national cult we’ve been dealing with since the 1980s–the marriage of evangelicalism to the Republican Party. I’m sure there’s been some political history written about that horrible shift if the 1980 presidential election, and in retrospect, I’d say not electing Carter to a second term was one of the biggest mistakes this country has made. I don’t know whether or not Carter was a good president or not–but he was also trying to clean up the economic mess he inherited from his Republican predecessors and took all the blame for it; and you know, the Camp David accords did end decades of war between Egypt and Israel–and has lasted; the longest lasting peace in the Middle East since 1948. I’m not deregulating the airlines was the right decision–sometimes, regulation is necessary and needed; and what has happened to the airline industry since deregulation is certainly an interesting political and economic example someone should do an in-depth heavily researched history of how it impacted the nation’s economy, whether good or bad. It would be an interesting read.

When I finish this, I am going to repair to my easy chair and do some more reading. I want to read another chapter of Listen for the Whisperer and a short story I started reading this week so I could write about it, and I want to do some writing today, too. As I said earlier, I need to run to the grocery store and get some things, and I should get gas while I am out and about. I think I am also going to watch a documentary so I can write about it–I’ve been meaning to for a very long time, and I think I may have even watched the documentary once already; or maybe I just intended to and never got around to it. My sense of time is very skewed now; it’s very hard to believe the summer of the shutdown was six years ago; at this time six years ago I was already working in the garage, getting to eat donated meals from places grateful we were doing COVID testing (the meals from Waffle House were definitely my favorites; the hash browns were to die for) but it does seem like a million years ago now, doesn’t it? Likewise, things that have happened in the interim since? I have no idea when it happened. Then again, it freaks me out to know that I had those impacted teeth pulled sixteen years ago. Crazy, right? My concept of time, always not the best, has definitely been impacted.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get another cup of coffee so I can get going on my day. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow. Till then, ta ta!

It Ain’t Easy Being Easy

Work at home Friday, and we made it through another work week in one piece (at least so far). The world is still here (for now), too, so if you’ve made it without losing your mind, killing someone, or just completely breaking down sobbing in a corner, congratulations! I did get tired yesterday afternoon, which wasn’t a surprise, but I was fine all morning and managed to get a lot done at the office, which was awesome. I was a bit tired to write words last night, so I decided to just chill, relax, do some chores when I felt like it, and think instead about what I am going to write today after my work-at-home duties. Naturally, that meant me doing little-to-nothing once I got home. Sparky was feeling lonely and needing some comfort love, which meant me providing my lap for his bed for almost the entire evening. I didn’t mind, of course; sleeping purr-kitty is very relaxing and calming. I caught up on the horrific news–these are the times that would have killed Molly Ivins, because trying to keep up on everything and writing humorously about it would have worn her down for sure.

So, apparently CNN conservative sleazebag Scott Jennings was outed as a closet case by Chef Joe Gera1. (See Matthew Rettenmund’s blog, along with some other queer news as well as some shots of actor Tom Blyth in the altogether; he’s a good resource and you should think about subscribing!) Scott Jennings is one of those white male mediocrities who has wound up as a fascism-enabler–this rat will definitely go down with the ship–and sits there with that asshole smirk while he smugly condescends to everyone else on the show. CNN was also responsible for giving us Tucker Carlson, thanks so much for that, by the way. It also raised the specter of outing again. I always go by the original ACT UP explanation for outing–if you are in a position to do harm to queer people, you do, and you’re closeted, well, fuck you and you definitely should be outed. (See: Aaron Schock) Are the allegations about Jennings accurate? Maybe, maybe not. But as far as I am concerned, we can put his unwashed fascist ass on a ice floe and set it adrift north of Canada.

Sparky only let me have about a half an hour of extra sleep this morning, so I am up way eariler than I’d intended; I never voluntarily get up at six thirty in the morning. I do feel rested and good. We watched another episode of Unchosen last night, which took another twist I didn’t see coming in last night’s episode. I kind of had wondered if this kind of twist was coming–mainly, because the show is doing such a great job with the characters that it seemed natural, but it still was a big surprise when they landed the twist. We are obsessed with this show, and of course, it has me thinking about cults again as well as Kansas, which is where I always think of when my mind turns to cults. I was thinking last night about several books I want to write that are set in Kansas–there are three I really hope I get to do while I am still writing. I also thought some more about the next Scotty, and I’m thinking I may move it up from Carnival to the Halloween before, as the story develops in my brain. I do love this creative phase I’m enjoying right now, and it’s not as frenetic and wild as they used to be; probably because the anxiety is under control so I am not getting dozens of new ideas weekly, which is also kind of a relief. I think having my mind ping around so rapid-fire the way it used to was also kind of exhausting and stressful. I like this whole new calm, centered thing medication is doing to my brain these days. And now it’s the weekend, with me feeling calm and rested and excellent. Huzzah!

I do have some work duties to do this morning that I will be diving into as soon as I finish writing this, and some other personal chores that have to be done this morning, too, which shouldn’t be an issue. I do think I am going to mostly stay home today. I have a couple of errands I can run later on (or tomorrow), and of course I’d like to get some cleaning done around here. I also need to wash and clean out the car since I am driving north a week from today (Paul leaves Tuesday to head north, too).

So I want to do some reading and writing this weekend, and get some newsletters finished as well. I feel good about everything in my life at the moment, and that’s always lovely. I am still doing a lot of processing and thinking about things that occurred in my life and making sense of them–and their lasting impact–on who I am. Maybe it was the anxiety, but I was always afraid somewhat to look back and relive/think about things again; mainly because I was certain I’d be embarrassed or ashamed. ANd maybe that’s true. Maybe I didn’t do this before because there was so much anxiety, and so much determination to always see the bad or negative about myself and now I can actually handle it? Regardless, I’m actually kind of enjoying this unpacking process while being kinder to, and forgiving, myself.

That’s healthy, right?

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in tomorrow with a progress report. Ta till then!

Anubis, Egyptian god of the afterlife and Lord of the Sacred Land
  1. We’ll see if there’s any truth or veracity to the claim, but it did make me laugh. He is so self-loathing, which is clearly apparent. I guess not thinking it was about sucking dick was probably a self-defense mechanism my brain used to protect from the horror of thinking him queer. ↩︎

Smoky Mountain Rain

Yes, this is yet another song that inspired me to write a short story–“No Security Provided,” thus far an unfinished first draft, about a woman driving north on I-75 hurriedly but has to make a rest stop and finds herself in a bad situation–which I really should finish someday. It has the potential to be a very good story, you know? Or it could be a worthless piece of crap no one will want. Your mileage might vary. I’m sure it often does.

For the first time in three weeks I have a work-at-home Friday, and it feels nice to be getting back into my normal routine. Yesterday was fine; I made it through the day unscathed, not tired, and pretty cheerful for the most part. I got home in time to see the final rotation of the Gymnastics national semifinals, in which LSU clinched a spot in the finals with three incredible floor routines back to back to wrap up their night. That made me even cheerier, and watching the news didn’t upset me too terribly. (I think I’ve just snapped about the country, to be honest; I’m numb to it all, with one notable exception–more on that later) I have some quality assurance to get done this morning, and some chores I’d like to take care of. I’ll need to also figure out what to get from the grocery store and what to have delivered, and when. I do need to run uptown to the post office, and maybe can drop off a load of books to the library sale. I can do that tomorrow, and swing by–oh, you don’t need to know the rundown of my plans for the weekend. I’m not sure I do, to be honest, other than as a reminder. I’ve been watching Jeopardy! clips on Youtube, trying to sharpen my mind, as well as playing a computer game that requires focus and concentration. I don’t know if that will work or not, but it seems to be? Anyway, I am feeling content this morning. The good night’s sleep undoubtedly helped with me feeling good and rested this morning, and that is so awesome, you know? I didn’t even sleep in that late, either. Sparky was a cuddlebug again this morning, but not as patient as he was last weekend waiting for me to get up and feed him, so I was up shortly after seven without issue. I am on my second cup of coffee this morning, and I already had my morning coffee cake, but my stomach still feels a bit on the empty side, so I’ll be making some toast or something in a moment.

It occurred to me yesterday, as the news of the CNN story on the so-called on-line “rape academy,” that I will never run out of material for my newsletter series on masculinity, will I? Certainly not as long as mediocre straight men can’t get laid due to their looks or lack of personality….scratch a straight man, and the odds are in your favor when it comes to finding one who’s a rapist, or one who has thought about it. Intrusive thoughts are still your thoughts. And the way men will always circle the wagons without question or thought when a man is credibly accused of sexual assault has always been rather telling, I’ve always believed. Not all men, of course, one can never truly generalize any demographic group as there are always plenty of exceptions to the generalization, but…it’s always a man.

I remember as a kid, when reading about history or mythology, I’d encounter the word rape and not know what it meant; I assumed it meant abducting them and nothing more than that–the rape of the Sabine women comes to mind–and it wasn’t until much later that I realized what the gods and soldiers were actually doing, and how casually the concept was introduced to me, and by extension, to all kids in that time period as not a big deal that it’s no wonder than men are socialized to think their cavemannish belief they are entitled to a woman’s body whenever and wherever they want. (This is why I love Sarah Weinman’s work so much–Without Consent is probably one of the most important non-fiction works on women’s bodily autonomy in years–or at least since her last book. I really need to read it again so I can write about it. It’s just too important of a book for me to dash off some thoughts without being thoughtful, you know?)

It also looks to be another stunning April day outside, so maybe sitting outside with a book this afternoon might be a good call. Or a little walk down to the park and back, or over to Walgreens; I do need to get some Claritin. So, I think I’m going to bring this to a close and head over into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, y’all, and I’ll be back yet again in the morning.

Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses

Here we are on my first ever (and hopefully last ever) work-at-home Monday. I did used to do work-at-home Mondays, but I didn’t like them very much. I didn’t get up as early as I would have liked to, but …the bed was comfy, the blankets were heavy and warm, and Sparky was being a cuddle-bug. Since I didn’t have to get up early to shower before work, I allowed myself more time in the bed this morning. What can I say? I don’t know why Sparky has become a morning cuddlebug, either–he rarely sleeps in the bed with us; Skittle and Scooter loved the bed and slept there without us all the time, but not Sparky. I do have a lot of work-at-home stuff to get done today, which means fighting with Sparky over my chair (something I also had to do with both of his predecessors)…but there are very worse things.

A lot of worse things, actually. I shudder to check the news this morning. Hmm, I see someone sent out an AI image of himself as Jesus. Remember those ten commandments that the Right wants to post in every classroom and outside of public buildings? I believe the very first one is Thou shalt have no other God before Me. Maybe they want to put them up because they need a constant reminder?

I think I may be on to something here. Sheesh. And yes, I screen shot the blasphemy to keep to share whenever some fucking smug Christian pulls that faith bullshit with me on line.

Yesterday was kind of nice. I slept late, felt relaxed and good, and did get some things done around the apartment. I was also creative for a lot of the day, thinking and taking notes and trying to wrap my mind around a few things. My mind is flooding with creativity again, and was kind of all over the map the last few days so much that I didn’t even remotely try to contain it and just let it roam wherever it wanted to go without restraint. I also realized part of my motivational issue with writing right now is because I have so much to work on I feel overwhelmed and paralyzed at the daunting chore ahead of me. But…that isn’t helpful and only increases the feeling of being overwhelmed, so I need to start putting one foot in front of the other and getting things done. So…list and prioritize, get organized and stop just floating from day to day with no plan. I was going to get the mail and maybe some groceries today after my work at home duties, but I can also do that on my way home from the office tomorrow. It was a gorgeous day yesterday, and it looks like another one today–this truly is the best part of the year in New Orleans, when everything is blooming and the air smells lush and sweet and redolent with sweet olive, jasmine, magnolia and honeysuckle. I’ve yet to see a stinging caterpillar, and the return of the termites is just around the corner.

I’ve also kind of reached that same point about the world and the country as I have with the writing; all I do now is just laugh at the insanity and think about how apropos that we’re dancing so close to the abyss because everything is fucking stupid. Yes, I think I may have snapped. I mean, we have the First Lady throwing her husband under the Epstein bus and bringing it back to the forefront again, the disaster of the war and the explosion of inflation because of it–I don’t even want to think about gas prices; another reason I don’t want to leave the house today–but at least there was a bright spot in Hungary as the people there voted out right-wing extremism in a landslide; another slap in the face to MAGA as the world recognizes the scourge of fascism and rejects it yet again. Hey Americans–you have an opportunity to do the same and purge these anti-American traitors this fall. Maybe we can even get the world to start forgiving us for our arrogance and stupidity.

I started a reread of Listen for the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney yesterday on my iPad, and the Gothic-tropes were just radiating off the pages as I made it through the first chapter. I originally read this shortly after Victoria Holt’s The Secret Woman and Mary Stewart’s The Ivy Tree, which put me all in on romantic suspense for the next two decades. Gothics/domestic suspense were about women’s fears; and what could be more hardboiled than thinking the man you love might be trying to kill you? This was my first Whitney novel for adults after reading many of her juvenile mysteries; it had everything I could possibly want: a fading movie star, a decades-old unsolved murder mystery, and some histrionic family melodrama. Leigh Hollins is a professional young woman with emotional issues, so she wasn’t an heiress; her father was a best selling novelist so she had some privilege; she’s in her early twenties. And then it’s off to Norway; more on this later obviously once the reread is complete.

The next Scotty is going to be a sort of Mardi Gras mystery, even though I’ve already done one, and am still working out how to include and interweave all the things I want to include and its going to include some callbacks to the series history, methinks, which will make it more fun for me to write.

I also completed my rewatch of The Traitors fourth American season, and am digesting my thoughts to write about my latest obsession.

And on that note, tis another cup of coffee for me and into the spice mines for the day. Have a great Monday, everyone, and I will be back tomorrow morning bright and early.

Beautiful physique model Dick DuBois from the 1950s and the “fitness” magazines—which would also be an interesting setting for a queer noir.

Cheeseburger in Paradise

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and I slept late. I fell asleep in my easy chair around ten thirty last night, woke up and went up to bed and didn’t get up this morning until nine thirty. Sparky was a sweetheart this morning, getting into the bed and snuggling until his hunger got the best of him and it was time for me to get up. How does he know which day is which? He doesn’t bother me at six in the mornings on the days when I don’t have to go to work, which is wild, or he’s a genius….which is hard for me to believe because he is such a complete dork sometimes. Always adorable, of course. I picked up his water fountain this week and so today, around everything I need to do and all the errands I need to run, I am going to assemble it to see if he’ll drink out of it. I have errands up the ass and the apartment is a wreck; laundry to do and dishes to wash, things to pick up and throw away and floors to vacuum. I was groggy when I first got up, but I am waking up and feeling better with every moment. I also swapped Friday-at-home for Monday-at-home and yes, I’ve not had a normal weekend in weeks. No wonder I feel so off-balance all the time…

I also wrote another newsletter yesterday–two this week!–about Christa Faust’s Derringer Award nominated short story, “Hollywood Prometheus” from Crime Ink: Iconic, which is fantastic. (You can read it here.) I had meant to write about every story in the book–I always want to do this with anthologies I am lucky enough to be in, and somehow never got around to it. Maybe since I am having so much trouble reading novels, I should switch to reading short stories again? A renewal of the Short Story Project and maybe even the Reread Project could do the trick; it’s always fun to revisit Mary Stewart or Phyllis A. Whitney, and since I do want to talk about the Gothic influence on me and my work in a newsletter at some point, why not go back and reread one for a “these books made me who I am .” I’d really like to tackle Green Darkness by Anya Seton again, but it’s soooo long. I used to love thick books–the longer the better (hence my deep dive into James Michener and Herman Wouk in high school)–but now I just think I ain’t got time for that. Who does? Seriously.

Last night we watched another episode of The Boys, which is very dystopian and a very harsh critique on our government, country, and politics, and I fucking love how pointed it is. We also watched the season premiere of Hacks–Jean Smart is so sharp and brilliant, and it’s just an excellent show–before I started getting sleepy. I also caught up on the news after I got home from the office yesterday, and Christ, there’s so much insanity and craziness in Washington and the country right now. All I do know for sure is that there’s no 3-D chess being played, anywhere–except maybe Tehran.

It’s also a stunningly beautiful morning outside; I think the high is the eighties. The sky is blue, no clouds anywhere, and I can see by the moving of the crepe myrtles there’s probably a really nice breeze. Maybe I can take the iPad outside and sit reading for a bit, which might be lovely. I’d also like to wash and clean out the car this weekend. It really needs to be waxed after using rubbing compound on it. Maybe I can do that when I visit Kentucky next. I was thinking about going up there in late June, after the wedding anniversary visit to Mom’s grave, and that would be the right kind of weather for sure.

I also made the right decision yesterday about my attitude about having to go into work. Now that I am medicated, I can make those kinds of decisions about my mental health rather than spiraling into bitter anger about the disruption to my routine. It was actually nice; I hadn’t done walk-in testing for the general population in years, and in all honesty, was worried about it some–part of my irritation. But I pulled off the scab, remembered how to be present, friendly and kind to the clients, and connected with all of them, which made me feel like I was helping these strangers, and that’s a good feeling. Maybe I should help out with that more often?

And on that pleasing note, I am heading into the spice mines for today. Have a lovely Saturday (that feels like Friday to me) and I will certainly be back again in the morning. Huzzah! Onward and upward!

Fins

I have to go into the office to work today, as there is no one to do walk-in testing–which also means I have to be there all day. I was highly annoyed at first, as anyone would be, and then decided being annoyed wasn’t going to make anything better, so accepted it and moved on. I also bartered Monday as my work-at-home day, so that will be very nice. Isn’t that a better outcome than being bitter and brooding? I am feeling better mentally lately, and staying in a mostly positive mind space. Obviously, the world is (gesticulates arms around) whatever the fuck this is, and it is very easy to get angry, or defeated, or overwhelmed–but that doesn’t help and that doesn’t make anything better and it certainly doesn’t make enduring these interesting times in which we find ourselves living in these days.

Imagine threatening the Pope–the bloody POPE–with kidnapping? You know what another name for the Avignon Papacy was? The Babylonian Captivity. BIBLICAL, wouldn’t you say? Catholics consider the Avignon Papacy such an affront to God they called that period the same name that is used for the Babylonian enslavement of Israel.

Interesting times indeed. Good luck with going after the Vatican. It’s also been interesting seeing Catholics shocked to realize evangelicals don’t actually consider them to be Christians–and don’t think they don’t have Catholics on the list for cleansing, too. Catholics have long been stigmatized in this country–how many Catholic presidents have we had? Just the one?–but once the evil right wing theocratic fascists figured out that abortion was a winning issue for them and a way to drag the Catholics in to use them for political power, that has kind of died down some…but it’s never gone away. Bigotries and prejudices don’t go away suddenly and without conscious choice…and I doubt that anyone put in the work in evangelical circles to truly kill off anti-Catholic bigotry.

Which is why it’s so weird that the majority of Supreme Court justices are Catholic.

I’ve always felt that the Religious Right had a day of reckoning coming, because one thing the vast majority of Christians can agree on is that every other Christian who doesn’t believe the same things and worships even the slightest bit differently is going straight to hell. That coalition was always doomed to fragment, and it’s a bit satisfying for me–who recognized the threat they posed to politics and culture and society back in the 1970s when they started to rise.

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day at work, and I wasn’t super tired when I got home. Paul got home shortly after I fed Sparky, and we settled in for the evening (it’s been an eternity since we’ve both been home in the evening). We caught up on the news, including a bizarre press conference, and then started watching Detective Hole. I had not read the books1, but the show looked interesting. The show is very good, if a bit on the bleak side–but that’s the Scandinavian noir/dark style, isn’t it? Visually, it’s stunning, and the plot is interesting. We will continue watching, but the first episode was a bit intense, so we then switched over to the first episode of the final season of The Boys, which recently dropped–they are not hiding the allegories anymore, you’d have to be a complete idiot to not see what they are doing–yet as always, there are people who don’t get they are on the wrong side in real life and gat very upset when the truth of what they’re enjoying hits them and they realize they like a WOKE SHOW. Oh, the horrors.

I want to write this weekend, and I am going to try. The essays are taking a bit out of me, especially when I write a long one like this most recent one. But hope springs eternal, doesn’t it? I feel really rested this morning, too. It’s nice not having to go in at the time I usually do; I was able to sleep a little later than usual this morning, which felt great. I think I will have the energy to be around people today and not want to commit any homicides–but I also haven’t driven to work yet, either; the drive can sometimes be a bit much with idiots on I-10. There’s no rush to get there; I technically don’t have to be there until ten, but I also have a meeting at ten so I need to be there by then for sure.

Oh, I was also included in this lovely write-up for Crime Reads for current and upcoming new works; you can read it here if you like.

All right, I am going to get another cup of coffee and get ready to head into the spice mines. May your Friday be as lovely as you are, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Rome, if you want to—Rome around the world…
  1. Not after I heard the main character’s name, because I still am a thirteen year old boy sometimes. ↩︎