Tag: S&S

Cool the Engines

Monday morning and I am at home instead of at the office so I can recover from yesterday. I had a panel, a reading and inducted Trebor Healey into the S&S Hall of Fame. It all went well, I was able to grab lunch with Rob Byrnes, Jean and Gillian, too. By the time the reception was over I was worn out and exhausted, so grabbed a Lyft and headed home. Sparky was incredibly needy when I got home, and I just collapsed into my easy chair to watch some news and things before stumbling up to bed, where I slept insanely well. I had some lovely conversations, ran into and got to talk to some friends I’ve not seen in a long time (hey, Tim!) and over all, exhausted as I was at the end of the day, I think I played the weekend properly. I’m a bit physically and mentally tired this morning–Sparky let me sleep in–and so it’s going to be an easy day of rest around here today. Paul will get home from the hotel later on today, and things will go back to what passes as normal around here once he’s home. Huzzah! I am kind of looking forward to some normality, to be honest.

I have things to do at leisure today–laundry and dishes and picking up–and I am going to spend some time reading this morning once I finish this. I think I’ll read until the laundry is finished–three loads–and then commence to other things. I was also thinking about writing a lot last night when I got home; events like this do tend to remind me why I love writing and being a writer, and my brief appearances this weekend, and listening to authors talk about their craft (I’d never met or heard Christopher Castellani speak before, and he’s very smart) is always inspiring. S&S isn’t like any other literary conference/festival I’ve ever attended because the whole weekend is really about connecting with other writers and readers and inspiration. Douglas Sadownik is also an excellent speaker, by the way. I read Sacred Lips of the Bronx a million years ago and don’t remember it, but it may be worth a revisit.

I may try to watch that manosphere thing again, but I don’t know that I can stomach it. I mean, I have an entire essay series planned for my newsletter about masculinity, so I should watch it as research; I have no interest in the straight manosphere because it’s predicated on grift, illusions, and takes advantage of lost young men by telling them this is the proper “lifestyle” for a man to achieve. The young men aren’t all right, as the last election showed us, but the reason they are lost is because they hold on to old-fashioned notions and theories about what masculinity actually is. Anything I know about these people I learned without my consent–I’m still reeling from my supervisor bringing up “looksmaxxing” and me having to look into it because I didn’t know what she was talking about (ignorance truly is bliss sometimes)–and I wish I’d never heard of most, if not all, of them. I could never put this into fiction, I don’t think, because it’s all so idiotic and unbelievable you can’t make this shit up if you wanted to, and I definitely didn’t want to. Maybe I can find a nice true crime documentary instead.

Or I could watch The Mummy Returns, since I rewatched The Mummy the other day. These really are marvelous films, if extremely colonial in their point of view. Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz are marvelous together and should have made more films together; I remember the first time I watched The Mummy thinking, “oh, they are perfect for Peabody and Emerson!” and whenever I read another one of Elizabeth Peters’ marvelous Amelia Peabody series, I pictured them as the leads. I really wish a British production company would start filming those books, because Americans would ruin them. (Heated Rivalry would be a completely different show had it been an American production, and wouldn’t have blown up the way it did, either.)

Anyway, I am looking forward to a peaceful, easy day here in the Lost Apartment, and hope you are having a lovely day, too. Safe travels to everyone heading home from S&S today, and of course, I will be back here tomorrow morning bright and early in the dark. Until then, adieu!

My guess is immediately after this photo shoot the model ate a pizza.

I Miss You

EDITORIAL NOTE: I started writing this Friday morning, but didn’t finish it until this morning.

Friday in Alabama!

Yesterday was an okay day for the most part. I got up feeling pretty rested–good Lord, the bed and blankets are so damned comfortable–and departed for work. I was fine at work all day and was able to get a lot done before I left at noon. I went home, packed, cleaned a little bit, and headed out. There was some traffic around Mobile, but it was a relatively easy drive and I was deeply enjoying listening to Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue 42. I stopped at the new Buc-ee’s in Mississippi for gas, and got lunch at Jack’s in Creota, Alabama. I got here about six o’clock, very tired, and hung out with Dad for a while. Today I am driving him over to my aunt’s to help her get things ready at the church for the funeral, before coming back here to get ready myself. I also have to stop somewhere to get the things I forgot to pack (can’t replace my hearing aids charger, so I’ll be going deaf for the service) and I am not sure what the day holds after that. I am waiting for Dad right now to come get me so I can drive him over there. There’s a Walmart here, so I am going to swing by there either this morning or later on today to get some things that I need. Honestly! But everything I forgot was not written down on my packing list, which just goes to show me that the list MUST BE THOROUGH. I woke up several times during the night, but the bed was very comfortable but I think I’ll hit a wall later today, too. I am driving back to New Orleans tomorrow morning, and should be home by the mid/early afternoon.

The funeral service was actually quite lovely, and I met some cousins’ offspring and grandchildren I’d never met before, and saw some other relatives that I see more regularly than, well, I guess never? After the church service we went to the graveside service, which, given it was hot and the sun was out and we were all wearing black dress clothes…well, maybe the preacher might have wanted to consider that before he started talking? But these things—and my relatives—always make me think about church and religion. I’m always so caught off guard by how devoted they are, and how much church is pretty much a routine part of their lives. I’ve always wondered how it felt to believe without doubt, which I’ve never been able to master when I was trying as a teenager. But my sister—who came around eventually-and I weren’t raised in the church, just around it. The beliefs and values of the Church of Christ were installed in us by everyone around us as children, and even when I started going with Mom and my sister when I was in high school, I still wasn’t quite all the way there—even when I was active in the Youth Group, and went three times a week to services and sang the hymns and said amen after every prayer. Religion is really about the fear of death, and the fear of the unknown, I realized at the graveside service, and morbid as it sounds, I don’t think I ever had that powerful fear of death motivating me to believe. I somehow somewhere believed I was going to die young , so it’s quite a jolt sometimes to realize I did grow old.

I have had a lot of close calls, though—but that’s a story for another time.`

I also finished the editing job, too, which turned out to be way more fun than I expected—the material is brilliant—and can’t wait to talk about it more when it’s closer to release. I also worked on my next newsletter last night before going to bed—back to Scotty promo stuff, after all the new subscribers I picked up eulogizing Lauren last weekend—hope they aren’t bored! I’ll probably finish it tonight before bed, revise and edit it Sunday morning, and then send it out. I have chores to do at home, of course; don’t I always? I’ll also have to make a grocery run and order some things to be delivered.

I’m loving my new iPad and its Magic Keyboard, which basically has turned it into a laptop with a touch screen, and I actually like working on it more than my MacBook Air.

SUNDAY

Well, I didn’t quite finish that and get it posted whilst I was out of town, now, did I? I did not. I didn’t sleep great either night in the hotel–I’d forgotten my evening-anxiety-help-me-sleep medications–and so was kind of tired yesterday when I drove down the on-ramp to I-65 South. I made good time, though–a little less than four hours, because I didn’t have to stop anywhere on the way. I was plenty exhausted when I pulled up and parked in front of the house yesterday afternoon. I unloaded the car, ordered lunch to be delivered, and then collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky slept in my lap all afternoon as I watched some more of The Traitors (it was weird not even watching a single episode for several days). But after a little while, my legs were no longer exhausted and tired, so I was able to get up and do the dishes and start the laundry and picking up a bit more around here; I kind of left the place messy. I also have to take inventory and figure out what groceries are needed, so I can either order them for delivery today or stop on the way home from work tomorrow. I have to go uptown to get the mail anyway, so might as well swing by the grocery store, right?

I was greatly enjoying listening to Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue 42, and I am going to finish reading it in hard copy today. The drive down was nice, if I was a bit impatient to get home. There really wasn’t much traffic, and I didn’t even get terribly delayed by the infamous I-10 to I-90 ramp. My creativity also amped up yesterday as I was doing chores and watching videos on Youtube about Alabama–you know the type; “Ten Ghost Towns in Alabama” or “Twenty Cool Things You Didn’t Know About Alabama”–and they were really cool and great and interesting, and yes, gave me some ideas. I wish I had more time to take off from work so I can just go exploring, both here in Louisiana and in Alabama; I’d love to visit Moundville near Tuscaloosa again. My aunt took my sister and I there where we were kids, and the only thing I really remember was my aunt bought me a Davy Crockett raccoon skin cap, complete with the bushy tail. I’d also like to see Poverty Point here in Louisiana.

And I want to get back to writing fiction regularly again. I can get started this week, even with the Festivals coming up this weekend (AIEEEE), an of course Paul will be moving into the hotel on Wednesday night, leaving me home alone with Sparky, who will be lonely and feeling abandoned. I also have to be careful to ensure I don’t get worn out, and must reserve my energy. We certainly don’t want a repeat of last year, which resulted in me winding up in the hospital. The two things aren’t related, but my brain associates them together, alas–just like I associate Hurricane Season Hustle with being sick because it happened while I was writing the book.

And on that note, I am going to head over to my easy chair to finish reading Elis book, and figure out what to do with the rest of my day. Have a good one, and I will see you again tomorrow in the morning.

Former collegiate wrestler and now fitness influences @fitnesspeach. I do wonder if Meta will hide this image as “adult content” because a bit of cheek is exposed.

Oh Father

Tuesday and somehow we managed to survive yet another dread Monday. I was tired and not feeling well most of the day; I wasn’t completely sure whether I actually was sick or was just so damned tired that I felt sick. In either case, it was a thoroughly miserable day for one Gregalicious. I was very close to calling in sick, but I knew I had things in the office that needed doing today–I was right; we’re having site visits from our primary funders this week–so I am glad I went in, even if I felt like shit for most of the day. I was so tired when I got home yesterday that I retired to my easy chair almost immediately, and I got little done. Which was fine. I slept better last night than I did Sunday night, and feel more rested today, but will without doubt be tired when I get off work again tonight.

We continued with P-Valley, and it did pick up with the second episode of the second season. I think watching in a binge–going from the season one finale to the season two opener–was the problem. The season finale was a non-stop adrenaline rush, with things blowing up and a shoot out and fights and violence and just in general insanity; the season two opener was bound to seem a bit slow and not quite as entertaining, particularly since they had to deal with a pandemic. But it definitely picked up again, and we were quite absorbed in the story. We may be able to finish it off tonight; I don’t know how many new episodes are left for us to see. And then we’ll need to find something else to watch. Yippee.

I also am looking forward to deciding on my next read, too. I have several strong contenders, but I think I am going to dip out of my field for a change and read something different, not a crime novel. I am leaning toward Chris Clarkson’s That Summer Night on Frenchmen Street; we did the y/a panel together at S&S, and I really liked him a lot–and he’s a local; lives even in the same neighborhood, and probably not really all that far away, either. We’re going to try to get together for coffee sometime when I have I have some free time. Ha ha ha ha. Well, when I can carve out some time from a weekend, that is. This is my last weekend at home before Malice Domestic, and of course that next weekend I am going to Alabama. Heavy heaving sigh. No, it’ll be okay, methinks. I’ll be able to somehow get everything done that I need to get done; it always gets done and I have yet to collapse under the stress and weight of too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it in.

Which, of course, is absolutely nothing new in the life of one Gregalicious.

Note to self: update to-do list from last week. I actually was able to cross some things off it, which is always a pleasant feeling, but I really need to get a new one together. I hate when I am so tired on Monday, as I was yesterday as well as not feeling good; it gets my week off to a very bad start, and since I have to get up at six every morning until Friday…starting the week off tired is never a good thing. I feel better this morning–I don’t feel sick anymore, which is nice, and of course I feel rested somewhat–but I also tend to think that the reason I felt sick was because my blood sugar was low. I didn’t eat much over the weekend and so of course yesterday felt like I was starving to death at times. (Okay, that’s wrong and extreme; I simply felt hungry, and since I rarely do, it felt much worse than it probably would to someone else.)

I’ve been spending a lot of time going down wormholes when I’m tired–don’t ask, it’s mindless and a nice diversion when I’m really too tired to think–and wondering if it is indeed possible for me to write about the past, even if they are decades I lived through. New Orleans history is so rich and varied–I came across another article about the Trunk Murders yesterday, which I’d love to write about sometime; there are so many marvelous crimes in New Orleans’ past to build books around the fictionalization of; the kidnapping of that little boy, for example, whose name is escaping me at the moment, or the lynching of those Italians who were found not guilty of killing the chief of police–that would also make an interesting book. I’m kind of casting about for another Sherlock in New Orleans before the Great War story, to be completely honest; I really enjoyed visiting that world when I wrote that story and would love to do another. I don’t think I’ll ever write a gay Sherlock book, even though he’s now in the public domain and anyone can do anything they want with him–primarily because I do NOT want to raise the ire of the Sherlockians. I think I captured the essence of the character in my story, but…not being an actual Sherlockian makes the Imposter Syndrome very strong with that one.

And on that note, I should get cleaned up and get started on my day. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.