Tag: Supreme Court

I Just Fall in Love Again

Thursday morning and my last day in the office this week, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. I was tired yesterday, but I did get some writing done last night. I finished the revision of the chapter, and now have two more to get done before I can right the next third. It’s going to need to be gone over again, but not right now. It also kind of felt good to be writing it again, and last night was the most I’ve done in a sitting on this book since before the blizzard disruption/distraction. The blizzard was actually rather magical, perhaps the best thing that’s happened this year, and it really was nice going into that bubble for those days–tuning out and just chilling in the cozy snug warmth of the inside while it was bitterly cold outside. Every time I looked out my windows I was captivated by it, seeing it swirling and twirling in such vast amounts with just the ancient glass separating me from the chill outside. Next weekend I am going up to Alabama to meet Dad; its been two years now, wow. That’ll be yet another distraction, and then it’s Carnival and jury duty. Jesús Cristo! That’s a jam-packed month, isn’t it?

I’ve also got to do my part in the ongoing fight against this illegitimate regime, so I need to take down time and rest when I can, all the while writing a book and working full-time. I’m really not the brightest, am I? And this is me slowed way down. I was thinking the other night that I want to finish at least two more books this year; which is kind of insane? I don’t know. I used to do three or four per year, I think. I definitely don’t think that is possible for me anymore. But at least I am thinking in terms of writing again, which up until recently boiled down to I probably should write today and then not doing it. I think that my mind isn’t as creative anymore when I am not actively writing, and so when I am writing the floodgates in my mind open and suddenly I am getting ideas about future projects and stories and essays and…you see how it works around here.

I barely slept at all last night, drifting in and out of a shallow state for the entire night. I feel rested physically, but also a little like I am operating in accessory and draining my batteries by the minute. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s how I feel. I am going to be very tired this afternoon when I get off work, and fortunately I have no errands to run that cannot wait until the morrow. I did pick up my copy of the new William Boyle on the way home from the office yesterday, and I am hoping that tonight I’ll at least have enough focus to read some more of my book, which I want to finish by the end of the weekend if not sooner. I am still not feeling tired yet, but I know that’s going to land on me like a ton of bricks this afternoon to the point where I will be so tired I am almost in tears. I hate feeling that way, but the plumber is also coming to the apartment today (Paul’s working remotely) to fix the bathroom shower and the garbage disposal, so I can start using the dishwasher again, which will save me some time every day and free up counter space. Huzzah! I think I’m going to work on the kitchen some more this weekend, try to make it more efficient and easier to use.

I know I want to wash the car this weekend for sure.

Oh, and Idaho has petitioned the Supreme Court to overturn Obergefell and overturn same-sex marriage. Hmmm, where’s all that fucking trash that told me repeatedly I was “overreacting” and “no one’s coming for gay marriage.” Fuck off forever and drink some bleach with some ground glass added to it, garbage people. Gargle it before you swallow, while you’re at it. I am so tired of being told that fighting for my rights and those of my community aren’t as “important” and to “be patient for a little longer” while those courting our votes don’t lift a fucking finger.

But it’s also the Super Bowl this weekend, and while I am doing my best to avoid the whole thing–the National Guard is out, and I really do not like living in a military zone, with armed soldiers and tanks out and about–it’s kind of hard to avoid it completely. It’s definitely affected my drive home from work, as I can’t go the way I usually go because its inside The Superdome Military Zone and streets are blocked off; they’re even closing New Orleans air space around and during the game. I think they did this the last time the Super Bowl was here, too…but it was like ten years ago and I don’t really remember. I do remember the post 9/11 one, and it was much the same as this. I don’t remember armed soldiers and tanks last time, though.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. It’s also cool but humid, which means cool temperatures but it feels clammy, blech. I’ll be back tomorrow, most likely, and I’ll talk to you again!

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The Tracks of My Tears

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ranger’s Waltz

Work at home Friday! Woo-hoo!

Yesterday saw a return of the weirdness. I was fatigued and my muscles felt tight when I got up yesterday morning, but as the morning went on I started feeling more mentally awake and less tired, and how does that make sense? I got nothing, seriously. But it was a pretty good day, overall. I was in a good mood at work and was feeling outgoing, chatty and cheerful, which always makes the sessions better. (I’ll talk more about my job at some point later in the month; I generally don’t talk about what I do for any number of reasons, but my day job definitely deserves a Pride Post of its own) I did feel tired when I got home, but I did my chores, which was awesome, and so I don’t have as much clean-up to do today while I work at home. My lower back is stiff this morning, and my legs a little achy, but other than that I feel fine.

And it’s almost the weekend, hip hip hurray!

I worked on a Pride post last night, which was actually a longer-form essay I wanted to write at some point (most of my Pride Posts are actual shorter essays than what they were originally planned to be; I still may expand them out into something longer eventually), and it’s one I am a bit nervous about sharing–it’s the one about body culture within the gay male community. It’s very easy to say something insensitive or thoughtless, which is something I always worry about here. The only people I don’t care about offending are the deplorables, and frankly, I love offending them, or pissing them off because they deserve it for their uncaring hearts. Maybe I overly parse things, but it’s always a good idea to delete something you’re not sure about–because if you aren’t sure it’s offensive to someone, then don’t go public with it, you know?

I was pleased (and very shocked) at first to see the Supreme Court refused to ban abortion pills…until I saw that it was dismissed because the plaintiffs “didn’t have standing to sue” in the first place. So, now all the pro-fetus people need to do is find someone hateful who has standing. My theory is that if your “religious conscience” doesn’t allow you to do certain medical procedures or treatments…well, you shouldn’t be a doctor, period, and besides that, if you put your religion before your education and training, what are the odds that you’re a creationist and thus don’t believe in science? I personally don’t want a doctor that doesn’t believe in evolution or is a creationist. You don’t get to pick and choose which science is real and which isn’t, and besides, aren’t Christians supposed to be caring and loving and free of judgment? Oh yes, I keep forgetting the deplorable Christians don’t follow Jesus and are only cosplaying–but not being called out by the so-called “good” Christians? Then you’re not one of the good ones, you know?

And again, that’s why we have separation of church and state. The failure to understand that basic principle tells me everything I need to know about your patriotism. The only reason this country exists in the first place was because North America served as a refugee camp for Christians escaping religious persecution in their home countries. Not knowing this, or not knowing the Europe was drenched in blood from religious wars for nearly two decades, is no excuse for Christian Nationalism in this country; Christian Nationalism is in fact a betrayal of the basic concepts of the Constitution–but again, they only agree with the parts of the Constitution they can use against others, and of course they’ve done a lovely job of infiltrating the justice system.

And again, this decision by the Supreme Court signaled how they would actually rule–and I also firmly believe that if this wasn’t an election year, they would have upheld the ban, but this SCOTUS is in the tank for MAGA so they are doing their best to help his campaign. It worries me a little how blatant they are being with their increasingly unpopular opinions…common sense would indicate moving more to the center than further right the more unpopular your positions are, but in every case of backlash they not only stand firm but double down, which makes me wonder about the integrity of the election, because the electoral results every year since 2020 would indicate they are destroying themselves and their movement by forcing unpopular policy down the throats of a resisting population.

Heavy thoughts for a Friday morning and my first cup of coffee. Perhaps I should have a second? I am waking up though, the cobwebs are now lifting from my brain and the fatigue seems to be seeping out of my muscles, which is marvelous. I do have to run some errands today, and am dreading heading out into that insane heat today. But I need to get the mail, possibly some things from the grocery store, and pick up a prescription. I really need to wash the car and clean out the inside, but in this heat I don’t know if I can stand being outside that long. It’s not even officially summer yet. There are already two tropical systems out there–one in the Bay of Campeche and the other off the coast of Florida, so it’s going to be a rather long, scary summer. Yay.

And on that note, I am going to go make another cup of coffee, work on the laundry for a bit, and then head on into the spice mines for the day. Y’all have a great Friday; I am not sure if I’ll be back later or not. One never knows!

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Rockin’ Robin

We made it to Wednesday! Huzzah! Huzzah! Here I sit with my coffee on my middle of the week morning, and I feel pretty good, to be honest. I was very tired yesterday, but not in the “I can’t even think” way, but rather the “hmm, I feel fatigued” way, which is fine. Yesterday was Sparky’s birthday, and so I gave him extra treats and pretty much played with him for most of the evening until he went to sleep in my lap. He really is a dear, even when he has Big Kitten Energy.

It’s been a bit of a week thus far, hasn’t it? Who knew that Ginni Thomas wasn’t the most awful SCOTUS wife? AND THAT IS SAYING SOMETHING. I saw someone on social media suggesting we change it, as a society, from “Karens” to “Martha-Anns,” since that name isn’t as common and she is clearly the GALACTIC EMPRESS of “I need to speak to a manager.” Madame Torquemada wouldn’t think Isabella the Catholic wasn’t religious enough for her, and clearly she’d love to implement the Inquisition, too. Thanks again to the third party votes who gave us the president who would appoint him for your service–and again for your service in 2016. I mean, what a vicious, venomous little spider she is, sitting in her house brooding over people being mean to her, waiting for the day she can be spiteful–the irony is it doesn’t make her look like the wife of a Supreme Court justice, but the Alitos clearly have delusions of grandeur and think they’re superior to everyone else. Whatever, trash. Don’t call yourselves patriots when you’re preference is to wipe your ass on the Constitution, and I also love that Alito thinks he’s a superior legal mind to, I don’t know, say every previous justice, which is rather telling. He certainly should not be a judge. But again, me and everyone else not white-cishet were screaming from the rafters that 2016 was about the Supreme Court, and as usual, no one listened–and that was also the case with the 2000 election, too. Sigh. It’s the pits, sometimes feeling like Cassandra on the walls of Troy.

I do feel much more lively this morning than I have any morning this week, but that’s got to be the better night of sleep last night–best of the week, in fact. I have to go pick up the mail today, my copies of the new Paul Tremblay should be there as well as another book from my childhood, Stranger than Science, which I am justifying getting because I plan to use it in The Summer of Lost Boys, which makes it research. I started thinking more about the next book yesterday, too, and how to expand this novella out into a novel. I am of course still going back and forth on it; it could be a novel, or it could just be the novella I stick at the end of my short story collection, but I think it would be too long for that. I need to write the introduction for that and finish the final stories and get it turned in. I know that Never Kiss a Stranger is already about 23k words in length, and there are at least two other subplots I need to weave into it, which should make it all the more interesting. I’ve not done nearly as much writing this week as I would have preferred, but there’s still a few days left in the week, so I can hopefully make up for lost time. What I need to do is summarize what’s already done, figure out where to slot in the subplots, and then buckle up and do the work. Next week is also going to be a little odd; we have Wednesday off for Juneteenth, so I have to work two days, be off one, work two more, and then drive over to Florida to meet Dad for the weekend. Their anniversary is next week–the 20th, to be exact, so Dad wants to go visit Mom and then he’s going on down. It’ll be a nice, relaxing weekend, methinks.

I’m not even going to take my computer with me. I’ll be ignoring everything until I get back.

Today is also the anniversary of the massacre at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, God rest their souls. That resonated because of course it was a dance club, and I had images of it happening here at either Oz or the Parade, which is chilling–and I really hated that the reboot of Queer as Folk was set here and a club shooting was central to the story. Has there been a true crime book about that yet? I feel like someone should, but not me. I am not the right person to do true crime, because I write fiction, I’d probably be unable to resist the urge to twist facts and evidence to fit any theories I might have, and that’s a disservice to the victims. I have thought, numerous times, about the possibility about writing a true crime book based on this case I am following in Oklahoma–without actually talking to any of the people or visiting the area–because one of the more interesting aspects of it all is the reaction, and how it’s all playing out on just this one Facebook page I joined. It still doesn’t make sense that the investigation was so fouled up from day one. How did anyone ever accept the theory that he was hit and killed by the side mirror on an eighteen-wheeler, and besides, I don’t care how drunk you are–there are conflicting reports on how drunk he was, but the autopsy did say .14 blood alcohol content–you’re not going to be unaware of an eighteen-wheeler coming up behind you on a country highway. And there was no wreckage or debris of any kind where the body was found. Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it? At some point I’ll probably write a blog entry about this case, but I don’t think, as much as I believe I could base a compelling novel in it, that I’ll eventually do so unless I can come up with a artistic thesis (that sounds pretentious, doesn’t it?) for it.

It’s funny how writing is like just about everything else in my life, isn’t it? The more I do it the better I write, the more I enjoy the other parts of my life, and if I take a break from it, it takes a while to shake off the dust and scrape off the rust and reactivate my creativity and my writing muscles. I also forget how to write a book sometimes, and that becomes a bit scary until I start remembering things, like oh yes you always have a point to the book you’re writing and you know what theme you want to explore, or I’ll remember something about the process and wonder if I’ve always done it that way because I don’t really remember. I am also finding I am forgetting a lot of the scenes and characters and plots of some of the books I’ve written, which is even scarier–what if I repeat myself, like with Scotty’s predilection for getting into car accidents? Heavy heaving sigh. This is why being a writer is an exercise in madness, really.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a delightful Wednesday; there may be a pride post later on; one never knows.

My Wish Came True

The big news of yesterday is that I actually revised, copy-edited, and finished a short story last night. Woo-hoo! The deadline for the anthology is not until this weekend, but I think I’m going to reread it one more time and then go ahead and pull the trigger. The last story I sent out was rejected, so a sale would be nice this time around. But if not, I’ll just put my nose to the grindstone and try, try, try again. I can always put this into the collection–and writing the introduction to the collection is on my to-do list for this week. I think June is going to be here sooner than I was thinking–the holiday really has messed up my already fucked-up sense of time–which isn’t ideal, but it’s fine. I want to get this one manuscript finished in June–and maybe the collection, too–and then I can move on to my next manuscript.

See? I am starting to feel ambitious again, and that’s been a long-time coming.

I slept very well last night, too, which was a very good feeling and of course tomorrow I don’t need to set the alarm as it is Work-at-Home Friday for one Gregalicious. We started watching a new Netflix show called Bodkin, which is really quite enjoyable–the first episode wasn’t terribly promising, but it really takes off in the second episode and continues to build. It also has a lot more depth than it seemed to at first, and I am looking forward to getting deeper into it tonight. I also am going to try to do some more reading this evening, after doing some more writing. My next goal is to revise the prologue to The Summer of Lost Boys–probably tonight–and then tomorrow after work-at-home duties I’ll work on finishing the revision of “When I Die,” and this weekend I can get to seriously working on my next book. I came up with a very ambitious writing plan for the rest of the summer; so we’ll see how that works out. But–Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, it’s also completely do-able. There will be times, I know, when I will need to rest and not risk burn out again, and that could affect the schedule. The key is to be flexible, and not get down on myself, for therein lies the path to crippling anxiety and creative paralysis.

But damn, it feels good to feel excited about writing again rather than seeing it as an odious chore…especially when life sometimes feels like everything is an odious chore. I still have to try to fix the garbage disposal, which is irritating not to have, and I still need to really do something about the floors. I think if and when I get my tax refund, I am going to use it to buy a new vacuum cleaner, one that is heavy duty and not only will work, but continue to work with little to no maintenance. I don’t know what is wrong with my current one, but I am going to go through the manual and see if I can’t figure out how to get it to work properly; if that fails, I’ll be getting a new one. Big plans for my weekend, right? The excitement really never lets up around here, let me tell you.

The Louisiana lege, in an effort to create a state more repressive than Puritan Massachusetts, passed two bills yesterday targeted at queer people: a bathroom bill, and a “don’t say gay” bill, which are now heading to our Christo-fascist governor’s desk to be signed…and thanks to the illegitimate Supreme Court, these laws will likely be upheld. Thanks again, protest voters in 2016. So glad Hillary wasn’t “pure” enough for you–and everything she warned about that summer has fucking come true. I will never forgive protest voters in 2016, and no one else should, either. There is no telling what other horrors Republican state legislatures and governors are going to do, now that they know they have a joke court upholding all of their un-American and un-constitutional laws. Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas are making a mockery of the Constitution and legal ethics, and John Roberts either doesn’t care or applauding them behind the scenes–so he is also unfit for office. That’s three who need to go right there–and Kavanaugh, Gorsuch and Barrett shouldn’t even be there in the first place. So, hey, Susan Sarandon–miss me with your fucking ally-ship to my community, you narcissistic bitch. I will never watch anything with her in it–and that means never seeing some classic movies that mattered to me again, and frankly, I can live with it. Glad you don’t vote with your vagina.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines for my last day in the office this week. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader–unless you’re a Louisiana Republican, in which case you can rightly and justly fuck all the way off.

Sea Cruise

Work at home Friday, and here’s hoping for a great day, and even greater three day weekend. I will inevitably wake up on Tuesday morning, asking myself as I swill my morning coffee how did I waste three whole days? When you’re a Gregalicious, it’s ridiculously easy, you can trust me on that. I slept really well last night, which is great. I also slept in an extra hour and a half this morning, and so looking forward to finishing waking up over my coffee and see where the day leads. I have a work meeting this morning, and all kinds of things to get done for the job today. I also have all kinds of things I want to get done this weekend, so I guess we’ll see how productive I actually am. We shall certainly see. I’d like to finish my reread of Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes, and I am trying to decide what to read next. I’ve got the new Stephen King short story collection and a new queer horror anthology should be arriving at some point. I think my next read is going to be either Kellye Garrett, Lori Roy, or Angie Kim, but we’ll have to see what strikes my fancy when it’s time to start reading.

Paul was late getting home last night, so I spent most of the evening trying to get chores done; I did get the laundry done and I have another sink full of dishes to get taken care of, and I would really like this weekend to be utilized trying to get the apartment into some kind of decent shape. I may need to change the arrangement of the work space, too–last night I was sitting here and all I could think about was how closed in and claustrophobic I feel the way it is now; I thought this would make it better, but I was incorrect and I am not even sure what I was thinking, either. I guess I can just blame it on fog brain and depression or something, because I was clearly not in my right mind–and frankly, realizing this made me feel like myself again, which was unexpected yet lovely at the same time. Maybe I am right and it’s all cleared out of my brain and my chemistry up there is working properly again. One never knows, does one?

Louisiana’s descent into Gilead took a few extra steps this week, as our disgusting theocratic legislature passed laws making morning after pills and other abortion medications controlled substances. I’m not exactly sure precisely how long it will take a woman needing one to drive and get one–if Florida’s ballot initiative enshrines abortion into their constitution, not terribly far–but they’ve also passed bathroom laws to punish transpeople for needing to use a public restroom; Louisiana has learned nothing from the lessons of the civil rights movement (or losing the Civil War–by the way, they are putting some Confederate statues back up in some parishes, too). I am excited because Helena Moreno, who is on the city council, is running for mayor and she is all about women’s rights and queer equality. So, will New Orleans continue to hold out against the repressive government up I-10 in Baton Rouge, or will Lawless Landry try to come for the city? MY guess is he will try to come for the city; it’s never gone well for Louisiana before but Republicans never learn, they just stubbornly wait and try again. There’s going to be a massive brain drain, too–already there’s a shortage of OB/GYNs, and our infant mortality rate was already high. But never ever expect a Christian or a Republican to ever think anything through, because they never do and they don’t care about future repercussions from their bad policy.

It’s going to be interesting continuing to write the Scotty series while we have a governor and legislature trying to turn the state into a reactionary conservative theocracy…thanks again, corrupt Supreme Court; and thanks again to all third party votes from 2016. We tried to tell you it was about the Supreme Court, but no. So miss me with your third party bullshit this time around, too. And thanks again to Susan Sarandon, for all your work to ensure Democrats didn’t get elected to the White House in 2000 or 2016–the blood from this court’s decisions is on the hands of everyone who voted third party in both of those elections…which is how Alito, Roberts, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and Gorsuch are up there stripping our rights away from us–so miss me with your “I’m too progressive to vote Democrat but I’m an ally to marginalized people!” No, you’re not, and I hope your moral purity sustains you if we lose this election–and it is as bad as Project 2025 spells out in precise detail. An ally to marginalized communities would never throw their vote away as a protest–that ability comes from your fucking SMUG white privilege. In fact, that is the very definition of egomaniacal selfishness. How clear will your conscience be when the deporting starts, or if they round up queer people? Make a sign and beat your breast on social media? Fuck all the way off, and I hope you enjoy every minute of hell when you get there.

Definitely feeling a touch feisty this morning, don’t you think?

It was also very fun watching the LSU baseball game last night, as they defeated South Carolina to make it to the SEC semifinals last night 11-10. They’ve now beaten three top ten teams in a row in the tournament, setting them up very nicely for a post-season run as they try to make it two national championships in a row. I love the college baseball post-season, but I think I got really spoiled last year by that exciting title run LSU made and accomplished–and I know that jello-shot bar is hoping the Tigers make it back to Omaha this year.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and start the dishes in the sink and laundering the bed linens. Have a great Friday, I may be back later as I am behind on posts, and if not, I will see you tomorrow morning!

The Deck of Cards

Wednesday and we’ve made it to mid-week, Constant Reader. Huzzah? Huzzah indeed. The weird vibe of the week continued through yesterday–everyone at the office seemed to be a bit off-balance too, and I am not entirely sure what this week’s weirdness is actually all about. But I got some things taken care of–rescheduling my doctor’s appointment, picking up a delayed prescription, and some other annoyances (for the record, I hate having to make phone calls and yesterday required several of them). But day job duties will be all caught up today before I leave to come home, and so I won’t have a lot of catching up to do when I return from my trip. It also occurred to me last night that of course my own vibe is off this week–the trip is looming in my subconscious, but it’ll be nice, ultimately.

Last night I was okay when I got home from work. I did some laundry and worked on the neverending sink full of dishes, which has been particularly annoyingly Sisyphean lately. I did some more research last night, and also stumbled on a peculiar unsolved murder/accidental death of a nineteen year old named Noah Pesgrove, from last September in Oklahoma. It’s an interesting case, involving a four day birthday party (!!!), obviously lots of drugs and alcohol, and then his body was found about a mile away, naked other than a pair of mismatched shoes. It really sounds like a drunken accident, like he fell out of the back of a truck bed and landed on the back of his head. But the other injuries are strange, as is the fact the body was found curled into a fetal position and covered with a bloody tarp. This is the kind of thing that could have easily happened any number of times when I was in high school in Kansas (I never was invited to these kinds of parties, ever, at either high school–which was probably a good thing) which of course made me think some more. I’ve already written one horrific short story about a high school murder at a party, so is writing another simply repeating myself? And why do I always revert to young people when I have these ideas? Shouldn’t I be writing about older gay men now?

I’ve also been thinking a lot about my career lately, and trying not to look at it in a mostly negative way, which is par for the course. I’ve never really had a plan for my career, with established ambitious goals and so forth to work towards. I did have a plan back in the early days, but Katrina’s floodwaters washed that all away, and so I’ve kind of been moving forward a little blindly, mostly focusing on what I wanted to write without any thoughts to any kind of cohesive career path forward, which is unfortunate. Then again, I rarely plan for the future in any meaningful kind of way, either–but that’s pretty fucking obvious, isn’t it? I’ve always pretty much, since Katrina, written what I wanted to or what I was asked to write (with a cash offer) without any thoughts about how that particular book might advance my career in a more-upward fashion. I never established myself firmly as any kind of writer–although I suppose I am mostly known as a crime writer, and I’ve pretty much always stuck to that kind of novel, even if some of them are a stretch. Some are borderline supernatural on top of the crime, but other than that and the occasional outright horror story, I’ve mostly focused on crime. I have any number of book and story ideas that are neither, but I never try to pursue writing those. Maybe I should? I always think that my short stories are really where I get to play with voice and pacing and style, and each one usually teaches me a little something more, gives me another insight on how to make my writing even stronger.

I also stumbled over some local assholes posting on social media about the Tulane protests, spearheaded by some trashy local bitch who claims to work for the Times-Picayune, so I started collecting screen shots for the formal complaint I intend to file with the paper’s management. Among her marvelous posts were demanding to know why no one is investigating the “protestors aren’t students” (um, you’re supposedly a journalist, ma’am, maybe put your fucking phone down and investigate) because she “knows what Tulane students look like (???1)” and “Tulane’s students are studying for finals so their parents can take them to Europe for the summer” and other horrific, bitchy commentary that was completely unworthy of any adult sentient adult who’s not a puppy-killer like Kristi Noem. Reading her and the approving responses to her bigoted bitchiness literally made me shake with rage…and then I realized bitch I write crime fiction–prepare to die in a book and I realized, Scotty’s nephew goes to Tulane…hmmm. And of course, our governor is very busy turning Louisiana into Gilead, and we have no recourse. Our Supreme Court is racist garbage and will rubberstamp anything Landry signs into law, and we certainly have no recourse with the US Supreme Court, which makes ours look positively progressive.

Maybe that’s my metier for the future; writing about how the Republican Party is taking Louisiana back to 1850. Come on, Landry, flame out like Jindal did.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

  1. Typical Uptown white bitch shit right here, am I right? What exactly does a Tulane student look like, because I’ve worked with any number of Tulane graduates, and I can tell 1. their parents weren’t rich and 2. they did not fucking look alike in any way, shape of form, you miserable bitch. So, since she “knows” what a Tulane student looks like, let me share with you what an Uptown white bitch looks like: tennis skirt or yoga pants, a sleeveless blouse, bleached hair and bad lip fillers, make-up designed to repel from forty yards, driving an expensive white SUV with a diamond tennis bracelet at her wrist, holding her phone in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the other while she goes through lights and stop signs obliviously, with an overwhelming Karenish narcissism and a complete refusal to realize or recognize there are other drivers. ↩︎

It’s Raining Again

Wednesday and it’s Pay-the-Bills Day again, hurray.

Last night’s sleep wasn’t as good as previous nights, but I do feel awake and rested this morning so that’s a good thing. I am also incredibly excited about my wagon, which i know is weird. I had a straight male co-worker look at it*, and sure enough, he was able to get the wheels attached properly. I stopped on my way home from the office to get the mail and thought, hey I had packages and my hands will be full, so let me use the wagon and it was marvelous. Clearly, I should have bought a wagon a long time ago–and it’s the right size to fit along the narrow walkway alongside the house. It’s actually going to make life so much easier for me now it’s almost scary, and it makes the most sense to actually keep it in the car–it’s out of the way, will always be there when I need it, and if I need it for anything else, well, the car is parked usually out in front of the house so it would be easy to get to. I am most pleased with the wagon, I have to say.

I’m also trying–not always successfully–to stay in control over my anxiety. I have all my pre-surgery appointments on Monday, so that’s when I am going to find out what the recovery is going to look like. I am taking unpaid leave from work (I don’t have near enough sick or vacation time to cover the time I need to be out, so here we are) which is going to be an issue I will deal with when it rolls around; but I do have the process started and I can get the documentation I need for Admin from those visits and turn everything in the following day when I go back to the office.

I wasn’t tired when I got home yesterday, but Tug was feeling lonely and needy, so I had to go give him a lap to sleep in for a while, and after watching another episode of Moonlighting and a documentary about Greek fire and the Byzantine Imperial Navy, I’d lost all motivation and was feeling tired and sleepy. I did nothing for the rest of the evening–nothing. I did go to bed around nine-thirty, and of course woke up just before five again this morning, but I think the body is beginning to adjust somewhat to the time change.

I got an unexpected royalty check (small, but I’ll take it gladly) in the mail yesterday along with my copy of David Valdes’ new Finding My Elf, which looks absolutely adorable, and I can’t wait to give it a read after the surgery. I am two books behind on my Donna Andrews reading, I need to read the new Lou Berney and Angie Kim novels, and there are any number of others I want to get to. I am assuming after the drugged haze of painkillers and so forth dies down afterwards, I’ll have lots of down time to read. I am going to have a rigid cast to keep the arm immobile for at least three weeks, and I am assuming that means limited options for doing things other than reading. I imagine typing one-handed is going to be incredibly frustrating, but it can be done. And during the drug fogs of those early post-surgery days, I can just reread things–like histories or true crime favorites or some Stephen King favorites (it’s been a hot minute since I reread Firestarter, for one, and ‘salem’s Lot and The Stand are always fun to revisit), or some of the other great favorites lying around the house.

I was also very happy to see that Ohio added abortion rights protections to the state Constitution as well as legalizing recreational marijuana–well done, Ohio!–and that Kentucky reelected their Democratic governor. There were some right-wing wins, but the great Blue Wave momentum from 2020 has continued, as well as the reaction to the Supreme Court’s overturning of Roe–congratulations, Federalist Society, your hand-picked Supreme Court majority has effectively destroyed the conservative movement’s electability for a generation. The Democrats needs to hit hard on abortion and the illegitimate Supreme Court–Mitch McConnell’s legacy, by the way, have fun being hated for the rest of American history, douchebag–going forward, and frankly, they need to put Howard Dean–who engineered the historic gains of the 2008 election cycle–back in fucking charge of the DNC.

I always said that abortion rights should be put on the ballot. This is the wedge issue that trumps (couldn’t resist) the Right’s religious zealotry and transphobia and racism.

But of course, they won’t learn the lesson that they’re unpopular and so are their policies and values–they’ll just see this in a paternal way: “clearly the voting public can’t be trusted, so we need to install authoritarianism for their own good.“

Yes, this is the same party that thinks they’ve successfully branded themselves as “true American patriots.” Fucking garbage is what they are.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back to check on you with more blatant self-promotion later.

*ah, stereotypes. Alas, we have a lack of butch lesbians in the department now, so had to make do with a straight guy. C’est la vie.

The World Turned Upside Down

Happy Second Class Citizen Independence Day, Constant Reader!

I am so tired of being Cassandra on the walls of Troy, warning people of the impending doom from the consequences of their narcissistic privilege, only to be either ignored or patted on the head condescendingly and told I don’t understand or am being terribly overdramatic. Well, too many of you didn’t listen and here we are.

But I am not going to talk about the fraud perpetrated on this country recently by six illegitimate and corrupt justices on the Supreme Court. This is the date designated as the nation’s birthday, and it’s a day of celebration as well as contemplation.

Despite its flaws and faults; its checkered history and immoral lapses in policy; and the current turmoil of bigotry and hatred and divisiveness, I still love my country. Despite the slanders and slurs hurled against people like me, I am a citizen just like anyone else in this country. I pay taxes like everyone else. There is nothing in the Constitution prohibiting my existence or my life or my reality; yet religious zealots, over and over again throughout our history, keep trying to seize control of the government in order to legislate their version of morality, theoretically based in their religion. I was raised in that religion, read the Bible and went to worship and prayed and Sunday school and all of that–as a child and without my consent. I know the Bible. I’ve read it, many times. I’ve studied it, read religious philosophy and religious studies. I’ve studied and read up on the history of Western civilization, which is forever yoked to the history of the rise of Christianity. I know when doctrine was decided as legitimate and what was heresy; what texts were left out of the Christian Bible and why; as well as the relationship of the New Testament and law to the Old. I’ve read up on the basic messages of many religions, from Islam to Hinduism to what most would call “voodoo” to the mythologies of ancient civilizations. The conclusion that I came to, from my reading and studying and so forth, was that the modern religions I considered all have, at their core, the same fundamental principle: be kind, be helpful, have empathy and compassion for others, and most importantly, do not judge. Judgment is reserved for God, however you choose to see him, and He is very jealous of that privilege. None of us are perfect and we are all sinners–but our sins are between us and God and are none of your fucking business.

Winston Churchill once said about the United States, “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing–once they’ve exhausted every other possibility.” It’s true. In his farewell address George Washington warned of our nation being dragged into “the broils of Europe” (which would make a great title), and that was the cornerstone of our foreign policy for generations. American soldiers did not fight a war in Europe until the first World War–and even then we only came in during the third year of the conflict. Likewise, we stayed out of the second World War, as the world erupted into flames, until we ourselves we attacked two years into the war, and the European allies of Japan also declared war on us. We have been participating in the broils of Europe ever since.

Those are realities. But our entrance into each war changed its course, and enabled the Allies to emerge triumphant. Defeating the Nazis is something we can be proud of, even as we essentially had an apartheid system of our own at home. Defeating the Japanese and putting an end to their war crimes is something we can also take pride in–even though there was a very strong element of revenge to the war–but using nuclear weapons on civilians to bring a close to the war is still morally and ethically questionable. (The horrific racism against the Japanese during the war was also abominable, and that’s doesn’t even take into consideration the horror of the unconstitutional incarceration of thousands of Japanese-Americans, while also robbing them of their belongings and destroying their businesses.)

But the ideals on which this country was founded–freedoms essentially from the potential tyranny of the Federal government–are very high-minded and noble. We have not lived up to those ideals too many times, and the fact that people who are straight, white, and cisgender have always been given priority over everyone who doesn’t fit into that demographic isn’t something we should be proud of–our system is flawed because human beings are flawed. Loving your country doesn’t mean turning a blind eye to its faults and problems, and critiquing and discussing moral, legal and ethical failures in our history, in my mind, is further proof that you do love the country and want it to live up to its ideals of equality and justice for everyone regardless of any adjectives that can be placed in front of the word American. My country has disappointed me, never more so than recently with a renegade Supreme Court discarding precedent, accepted law, and essentially pissing on the very idea of equality while pursuing what can be best be called a completely unAmerican agenda to undermine the basic principles of justice and liberty for all. Patriotism doesn’t require blind obedience and loyalty; which is why the Founding Fathers tried very hard to protect dissent.

I seriously doubt Benjamin Franklin or John Adams would ever agree that corporations are people, entitled to all legal protections of the individual while also not being held accountable legally than the individual; therefore the “citizenship” of corporations is also higher class than that of the individual.

But how can you not love and admire and respect the ideals the country strives to achieve? We haven’t always lived up to those ideals; many times we have failed, horribly.

I have always believed that the arc of justice always bends towards justice, and that we as a country can and should always be looking for ways to make things better, pass legislation to correct flaws and defects in the system, and always keep a wary eye out for corruption. The Founding Fathers also could not conceive of anyone making a career out of politics, either, which is why they established no term limits, which was a huge mistake. We have a presidential term limit now, but none for either house of Congress or the Supreme Court, or any federal bench for that matter. That was a major flaw and oversight in the drafting of our remarkable Constitution, with the end result we have a corrupt system where our politicians are often up for sale, and aren’t even ashamed. How does someone middle class or from a poor background go into politics and retire wealthy?

But, like Churchill, I have faith that my fellow Americans will always, inevitably, do the right thing–once every other possibility is explored and exhausted.

May you have a fabulous fourth of July, Constant Reader. I’ll probably make several posts today; who knows?

Blue Bell Knoll

I’m home, and exhausted.

I drove back this morning from Kentucky. The drive isn’t hideous (other than the hell that Chattanooga always is, either direction, no matter the time of day or day of the week or time of the year); it’s actually quite a lovely drive. The mountains of Kentucky and Tennessee are stunningly beautiful. There’s a brief jog into Georgia’s northwest mountains before I connect to I-59 south and cross the Alabama state line, returning to the central time zone at the same instant (being on Eastern time seriously fucks with my body clock, and it’s getting worse). Alabama is–well, Alabama is beautiful. I will always feel that tug and tie to the state of my birth, where my people are from, where my mother and ancestors are buried. It isn’t easy sometimes to love the land of my birth; it’s complicated, as so many things that don’t need to be actually are. I think I am probably going to write about Alabama again, because I find myself wrestling with that complicated, sometimes agonizing tie, trying to understand and unravel and perhaps finally find some kind of peace rather than just mournful acceptance.

It also always interests me how little traffic there is through Mississippi. Maybe a bit in Meridian, but nothing more than a slight irritation, ever. Once I pass Meridian, I am in the home stretch and start to get antsy, anxious and tired and ready to just be home. I start watching the mileage markers alongside the highway; and I always feel a bit of a little thrill the first time the milage to New Orleans is on a sign; that means soon and the countdown is in its final stages. It always surprises me a little how quickly I can get home once I reach Slidell, though I start getting antsy to get through Bayou Sauvage and start relaxing again because I am almost to the East and then the high rise; and when I reach the top of that I see the CBD and the Superdome and I release a lot of tension I didn’t even realize I was holding in my shoulders. It’s always lovely to come home–even if getting out of the car in front of the house was oppressive. My God, it was lovely in Kentucky; I’d forgotten what a heat advisory in New Orleans feels like–which always makes me laugh: how can I always forget? For fuck’s sake, I write about it all the fucking time.

It was an interesting week. I don’t think I’ve had an entire week off from work since we went to Italy (willing to freely admit that might be incorrect; my memory banks are currently fried and I am beginning to suspect they aren’t going to repair themselves). It was incredibly hot in Alabama, Lord, was it hot in Alabama. But…I also don’t spend a lot of time outside in the summer in New Orleans, to be fair, and I spent a lot of time outdoors whilst in Alabama. Monday was Mom and Dad’s anniversary, so that’s why I took the trip. I met Dad in Jasper, where we stayed, on Sunday; we went to the grave on Monday and drove around the county, visiting other graves of ancestors. We also went to the county courthouse at 2:00, which was when they were married…and then we departed for Kentucky. There was a horrific thunderstorm Sunday night in Jasper; there was an even worse one in Kentucky–a derecho–and so a lot of trees and tree limbs came down, and of course my parents’ house had lost power on Sunday night, and it hadn’t been restored by the time we got there on Monday night. It came back on Tuesday night, but my sense of days and dates and so forth was already screwed up by then, and I’d lost track of everything. I spent a lot of time with Dad, which was great and I am very happy I was able to do this with him so he didn’t have to do it alone; and it was great spending time with him up north.

I got my love of history from my dad, which is something I am forever grateful for, and so of course we talked a lot about history, not just the family stuff but the county and Alabama in general. I read a couple of history books while I was up there–more on those later–and Dad gave me some terrific ones about Alabama, which of course started triggering my fallow creativity. I did a lot of creative thinking while I was up there, and of course, as I said, I was also wrestling with my complicated heritage and complicated feelings about it. I may not agree with many of my father’s takes on history–particularly US History and the Civil War–but I enjoy listening respectfully to his (wrong) opinions, and of course, it got me to thinking about my complicated heritage and how I feel about it, which naturally made me want to write some more about it. I have an idea germinating, but I am going to do some more research and reading before I even start spitballing ideas (and titles) for the next Alabama book.

Talking to my dad about my mother and the rest of the family also made me realize some things about myself. Mom hated conflict and avoided it at all costs and she also suffered from anxiety. I hate conflict and avoid it at (almost) all costs, and I also suffer from crippling anxiety sometimes; I am always anxious, but sometimes…it’s horrible, really. The Xanax helps somewhat, but not always. I even have anxiety about having anxiety. So of course, the perfect job for someone with anxiety is being a writer, which is almost non-stop anxiety triggers.

I listened to Carol Goodman’s The Widow’s House on the way up, and her The Seduction of Water on the way back. I haven’t finished the second–about an hour or so left–which I will probably finish listening to while I do chores. There will, of course, be more on them later. I also missed the second game of the College World Series final on my way up to Jasper, and you can imagine my horror, Constant Reader, to see that after winning the first game against Florida, my Tigers got spanked in the second 24-4. This would ordinarily have made me a bit tense about the final, winner takes all game; but was also delighted to arrive in Kentucky to see that LSU pounded Florida 18-4 to bring home LSU’s seventh national championship on baseball (GEAUX TIGERS!!!).

I started writing this last night, hoping to post it before I went to bed, but I just got overwhelmingly exhausted, so I went to bed…and was unable to fall asleep. Yay. SO I finally got tired of just laying there and got up and finished this, am doing some laundry, and have a load of dishes soaking in soapy water in the sink. I have a lot of errands to do today (well, it may only be 4:53 am, but it is Sunday), chores around the house, and so I figured I should get up and get going on the day rather than just staying in bed, hoping to get a nap or something before sunrise. Yet here I am. Sigh. But I only have to get through Monday at the office (and run errands on the way home) and then have the 4th off. It’s going to be a very somber 4th for me this year, as the Supreme Court decided, in their bigoted bought and paid for opinion, that I am a second class citizen that “Christians” can essentially spit on.

How fucking Christ-like. There will be more on that later, as well.

And on that note, I am going to go fold some clothes and get some things done. I’ll be back later, no doubt.