Tag: the dark on the other side

Don’t Shoot Shotgun

Goodbye, ruby Tuesday! We’re still having a heat advoisory today, and at this point I am trying to remember the last time we weren’t in one. I slept well again last night, and again didn’t want to get out of my comfy bed this morning. Ah, well, get over it, Gregalicious. I had a good day at work yesterday and got a lot done; but once I was home my ambitious plans for the evening fell by the wayside yet again as I provided a cat bed for Sparky and actually fell asleep for a little over an hour! That never happens. I did get some work done last night before falling asleep, and I am hoping that I’ll get some more done tonight. I am not going to be hard on myself because part of this new leaf/new stage in my life is being kinder to myself when I don’t live up to my own expectations.

We’ll see how that goes.

I also wrote two more entries, about the short stories I contributed to a couple of anthologies that are about to drop, and that felt kind of good, you know? I reread the stories for the first time since copy edits and you know, they are pretty good stories, and I am very pleased to be in anthologies with such terrific writers surrounding me. I also sent out a newsletter, about my reread of The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels, so yeah, I did get some writing done yesterday. I usually don’t count the blog and the newsletter as writing work, but they really are so I really should, shouldn’t I? It’s sometimes hard to believe I’ve been blogging since December of 2004–so blogging will be turning twenty-two later this year. Since I will also be 64 shortly, that’s about a third of my life. And now I’ve been a published author longer than I was not, if that makes sense? I’ve been a published author over half of my life now.

A definite milestone.

It’s also nice to feel reconnected to writing again, which is something I just realized that I am feeling again after a very lengthy period of not feeling connected to it, if that makes sense? I barely remember the beginning of this year. anything before I got sick is just kind of a blur nowadays, but I do know the writing of the new book wasn’t going well–and I was really exhausted going into getting sick, which made writing even harder. I don’t remember last year a lot, either. My memory is rather pathetic these days, and I am having trouble remembering things I should know. (While watching Wicked the other afternoon I could not remember Michelle Yeoh’s name to save my life; I wound up looking it up on my phone.) But this morning I feel like of course I can get all this stuff done, which is a lovely feeling and one I’ve not had for a considerable time.

We started watching The Hunting Wives last night on Netflix, based on the recommendation of a co-worker, and while we only watched the opening, pilot episode, it seems like the kind of soap operatic melodrama I often can’t get enough of (see past addictions to All My Children, General Hospital, Dynasty, and Melrose Place) and I am really looking forward to the rest of this first season. I went straight home after work last night, no stops anywhere, and while I may not have gotten any chores done (I need to empty and reload the dishwasher, and there’s clothes in the dryer) but the straightening I did this weekend is still holding firm. I may go straight home tonight, too–I need to have some things either picked up at the grocery, or delivered–and I can wait to go by the postal service tomorrow on the way home.

So, once I make it through my day job, I can get straight home and get to work on the chores before settling in to do some writing. I’ve promised a short story to an anthology–I already have two that with a bit of revising would be perfect–so I need to get back on those revisions, and I still have some other writing to get done that I really need to get done by Friday as a preference, Monday as a last ditch effort.

So, on that optimistic note, I am going to head into the spice mines this fine hot Tuesday morning. Stay cool wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back later or tomorrow morning to check in with you again!

Pictures of You

Yesterday was lovely, really. Sparky let me sleep a little longer than normal, and I felt good when I woke up, although unsure as to whether or not I would be fatigued and foggy-brained yet again for the day. But breakfast and morning coffee were marvelous, and I started doing some chores while watching coverage of the game from the other night. I also was basking a bit in the afterglow of that insane final two innings and the insanity of the win–going into that bottom of the ninth, and two outs from Arkansas winning? Apparently, Arkansas has never won the College World Series and is also 0-5 overall playing LSU there. That, and the fact that errors cost them this game, has got to be galling for their fans. I’m sure it doesn’t go down any easier since the Razorbacks also see LSU as one of their major rivals. It’s also kind of weird–and nice–to see LSU fans on-line congratulating and talking up the Razorbacks since the game; we all felt bad for those kids suffering through such a heartbreaking loss. I was glad to see it wasn’t just me; the finals will seem almost kind of anticlimactic now. I hope the Arkansas players–especially poor Charles Davalan–are feeling better now. And now I kind of feel like I should root for them in the future when they aren’t playing LSU. Well done, Arkansas baseball team–you’ve made Arkansas a secondary team for me to root for, which I would have never thought possible.

It’s never dull being an LSU fan. That game was intense.

Anyway.

I also watched Surviving Ohio State–Jim Jordan should be behind bars–while finishing The Dark on the Other Side, which was a lot more interesting than I remembered. All of Barbara Michaels’ work is good, but this one isn’t quite as good as the ones I consider her best (Ammie Come Home, The Crying Child, Be Buried in the Rain, House of Many Shadows, and Witch); but she is an excellent Gothic writer, and probably a much bigger influence on me as a writer mysel than I’ve probably ever realized; the Scotty books are actually kind of similar in tone to some of her Elizabeth Peters novels, which are also delightful. I am debating what my next reread will be; I was thinking about another Michaels that I’ve not revisited in a while (The Crying Child) or, since it’s Pride Month, perhaps Myra Breckinridge? I was thinking about Gore Vidal the other day, which reminded me of the book, and wondered how it would hold up to modern scrutiny. I will not lie; I’ve read it twice at different periods of my life and didn’t know what to make of it–and with the current day trans community under relentless attack, I thought maybe try it again? I do remember how it ends, and I am not entirely certain how any reading of the book could make the ending not problematic–but the thing about Vidal is he never gave a shit; I can only imagine how vitriolic he would be about modern times and social media and trigger warnings…he died before social media became the monster it did, and when someone came for him he threw acid back at them. He didn’t mind offending people, nor did he take criticism well.

Although I suppose the fact Myra Breckinridge has never appeared on any list of great and/or influential and/or important queer novels that I’ve ever seen is probably giving me my answer about whether the book has aged well or not.

Surviving Ohio State was horrifying, simply horrifying. I do not believe Jim Jordan and the head coach didn’t know what was going on, but I also can’t understand why they didn’t stop it. It was also infuriating to see how shitty people can be about male sexual assault victims (the patriarchy at work again, hand in glove with toxic masculinity), especially ones that are athletes, without taking into consideration how young and naïve so many of them were. I’ve been thinking a lot about the things we take for granted in order to function in this life and world, and one of the things is trusting medical professionals. When you’re young and have been raised to with that institutional trust (trusting doctors, and trusting that your college will take care of you and protect you from predators), and the fact that it seems like everyone knows and acts like it’s not a big deal (Narrator Voice: It was, in fact, quite a big fucking deal), what do you do? It’s horrifically corrupt, just as both Penn State and Michigan State were institutionally corrupt in how they handled their athletic staff’s predatory conduct. The documentary left me very angry, and hating Jim Jordan even more than I already did. (Of course, if I were writing the story Dr. Strauss would have been murdered, which would have uncovered his behavior–only to have the murder not be related to the abuse at all.) Unsettling, but I think everyone should watch this documentary.

Today is a work remotely day, and I feel pretty good this morning. I rested for the most part yesterday, which was nice, and slept really well last night, too. I have things to get done today–some of it very tedious, but it has to be done–for work but being at home makes it a little better for me. We’re going to go to Costco after work today, and run some other errands as well, before coming home and settling in for the weekend. I have a lot of things I need to get done this weekend, writing-wise, so hopefully today won’t wear me out too much and I can get everything done. I need to finish a short story, and I need to work on some of my other writing as well. If I miss the short story deadline it’s not the end of the world; the story is an excerpt from what I hope will turn out to be a much longer work, so if I don’t get it finished and submitted it’s not the end of the world. I didn’t anticipate the fatigue and foggy brain I’d get from Monday’s infusion, and so didn’t really plan for it.

AH, well.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and make my breakfast before going to work. Have a great Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back either later today or tomorrow morning. Until then…

Nureyev. Need I say more?

A Horse with No Name

I wrote yesterday!!!

I know, right? It was only about a thousand words or so, but it was a thousand words or so more than I had when I got up yesterday morning! What a lovely Sunday it was, too. We were in another heat advisory (I have yet to check this morning to see if we’re in another one today; there’s nothing in my inbox, so that’s a good thing I suppose); and even inside with the air conditioning, I could tell it was miserable outside. I read some more of my current reads (Summerhouse, The Dark on the Other Side, Incident at Loring Groves), and did some cleaning around the house whilst also writing, which was amazing and felt even better. I also cleared up an issue with something else I am working on while I was in creative think mode, which is very awesome and cool.

I was reading Summerhouse, actually, which is setting itself up nicely for the next part of the book–I really like the voice; and was wondering if it was because the music of the words comes from the original Turkish, it’s this wonderful rhythm that just pulls you along–when I remembered the French Open Men’s final was yesterday morning, so I checked my phone to see who won–only to see that Carlos Alcaraz was up 5-4 and serving for the match! I immediately switched the television over to watch, and so got to see the thrilling end as Alcaraz was broken back to win in a tie-break that was very exciting.

LSU is going to the College World Series again, sweeping West Virginia in the super regionals. The game last night didn’t start until eight our time, because of rain delays, so I had to go to bed not knowing if there would be a third and deciding game tonight. They were up 6-4 when I went to bed (later than I should have because of the game, but I was also nervously doing some chores while it was on, so the house looked nicer this morning when I came down for breakfast) but they did end up winning 12-5, and made it back to Omaha again! Huzzah! And now on to the Jell-o Shot record set in 2023, which seems like more than two years ago, doesn’t it?

While we were waiting for the rain-delayed LSU game, we watched the Pee-Wee Herman documentary on MAX (or whatever the fuck they call it now), which was interesting and also sad (more on that later) and when we finished that, moved on to the Netflix adaptation of Jane Harper’s The Survivors, which is quite good. I’ve not read Jane Harper, but I know of her, and if this is any indication of how good her books are, I may have to give her a whirl. Just what I need, right, more to read? Sigh. But this triangular reading thing I am doing (a new novel, a reread, and a kids’ book simultaneously) seems to be working, as I am getting more reading done. (It’s also entirely possible it’s all in my mind, but…I don’t mind the occasional self-delusion…)

So, it was a good recovery weekend. I really enjoy being creative again, and getting some writing and reading and housekeeping done. I feel good for a Monday morning, and feel like this could be an amazing week for me, as long as I keep getting rest and moving forward. I need to make a new to-do list (I finished almost everything on the last one, even if it took a little longer than I’d hoped). I also started going through my recipe binder, throwing out things I’ll never make as well as duplicates; I was looking for Mom’s chicken-and-dumpling recipe, which is clearly now lost forever, which means going back to that recipe I tried the other day (and liked) and punching it up to be more like Mom’s–milk and flour, for one, to thicken the sauce–which isn’t a bad thing; Mom’s recipe was an adaptation of her mother’s, after all.

The Buc-ee’s in Pass Christian opened this weekend, too–I may have to take an expedition out there one morning on a weekend to check it out and get Paul one of their sandwiches; it would be nice to stop at a Buc-ees when I’m not on my way somewhere. Pass Christian is about an hour from New Orleans, so I could listen to an audiobook on my way over to check it out. (I always have big plans of exploring on the weekends, and then I never do anything about it…but going to Buc-ee’s, I could take highway 90 east and cross the Rigolets to Slidell, and I could take some pictures out that way, too…hmmm. I also need to cross the river and head down to the bayou parishes for something else I am writing…sure, it’s summer now here and I am recovering still, but like I said, my mind’s creative ADHD has been working overdrive lately.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow morning, most likely.

Down by the Lazy River

Happy Sunday to all who celebrate! My alarm cat got me up just past six, and yet again I had a lovely night’s sleep, which was simply marvelous. Yesterday was not a bad day; I got some rest and did some things, but put no pressure on myself and just recharged my batteries. I do have a sink full of dirty dishes, and the kitchen’s kind of a mess, really, but I can get that taken care of today. LSU doesn’t play today until five, so I have the whole day to get things done. Or not, depending on how I feel….but I definitely don’t want to come home from work tomorrow to a dirty kitchen.

My newsletter has been getting new subscribers since my return to it after the illness (which, while chronic for the rest of my life, has actually turned out to have been a good thing. Typical Gregalicious craziness, am I right?), but again, I try not to think about that too much because I don’t want to have to worry about what I write there. I know my Pride posts this month have generated some clicks; maybe it’s just that, you know? Supporting the queer author during Pride? Why do I even question any of this instead of just accepting it?

Which is more crazy Gregaliciousness, but that’s who I am.

As I said, I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked yesterday, but I did watch LSU win their baseball game (GEAUX TIGERS), had groceries delivered, did some cleaning and picking up, and read some more. I finished my reread of The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, which other than some racial insensitivities (mostly about native Americans and Mexican-Americans, but they could easily be corrected, there wasn’t a lot of it) actually holds up really well; I greatly enjoyed the book. I also read some more of The Dark on the Other Side, but got so caught in the kids’ book that I didn’t really read much of anything else. My next y/a read will be Incident at Loring Groves, by Sonia Levitin, which won the first Edgar for y/a when it was finally split off from juvenile. I looked Levitin up and she’s kind of amazing, as was the author of The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, Gordon Shirreffs. I also want to reread some of Phyllis A. Whitney’s juvenile mysteries, which I enjoyed a lot as a kid (I also was a big fan of her novels for adults, which were romantic suspense but really good mysteries, too), and I think I have some of them around here somewhere.

I also thought about some of my own fiction writing yesterday while scribbling notes in my journal. If I can focus, I’d like to get some fiction writing on the short stories done, and some editing as well on the books. I should spend some time with Summerhouse, and I do have other chores to do around the house. I don’t know what time LSU plays today, but I can read while I watch that, or edit. I like that my brain is being creative again (I’m still loving that gay version of No Way Out I was thinking about the other day, so add that to the list of future projects I want to get to at some point), but it’s not doing me any good unless words are appearing in the electronic files and I am drawing closer to a goal, you know? I also need to make another to-do list, at the top of which will be calling my specialist, because we still haven’t scheduled my first infusion, the infusion meds people are getting antsy about getting started (which is an interesting phenomenon I didn’t think happened in American health care anymore; but I am sure it has nothing to do with my health and something to do with money because that’s what our health care system is about: capitalism), and to be honest, I am a little curious about why it’s not been schedule, and I think I am going to need more prednisone because I am getting low and there’s still weeks to go on that treatment. So, yes, indeed, we need to make a to-do list once I finish breakfast.

We also finished Department Q last night and really liked it a lot. I hope it gets renewed. It’s well-written, tightly plotted, and incredibly acted. Not sure what we are going to watch next–probably the Paul Rubens documentary, which will be terribly sad, but probably a good idea to watch and evaluate during Pride. The behavior of homophobic garbage on social media because it’s Pride Month only serves to make me more defiant, and more determined to call it out and shame it whenever I see it. Your ignorant bigotry comes across my feed? Complain to the algorithm after I am finished eviscerating your unwashed flat ass. It’s fucking Pride, can’t you leave us the fuck alone for thirty goddamned days? Would it really kill you that much to not be a piece of shit for that short a period of time?

Obviously, it would.

And if Simone Biles dragged me for the filth that I was the way she did Riley Gaines yesterday, I think I’d just shut the fuck up and disappear. But pathetic loser crybaby Riley Gaines will, once again, play the victim while she bullies children on her infernal crusade. Riley, how do people regard Anita Bryant today? Look it up–that’s your legacy. That’s how you’ll be remembered. As a fifth-place loser who basically threw a tantrum for finishing in fifth place because you weren’t good enough to place. How did you do at the Olympic Trials? And comparing you with Simone Biles, in swimming terms, is comparing you to Katie Ledecky.

Yeah, loser, you’re not even remotely close to her league. Sorry Mommy and Daddy treated every bowel movement as a child as more proof of how special you were, but why should trans people suffer because you had shitty parents and your spoiled, Veruka Salt behavior? Take the L, bitch, and disappear.

I also watched Coco Gauff win the French Open yesterday, which was awesome. I really like Coco, and have enjoyed watching her rise. That’s two slams she’s won, and she’s only 21, and she seems to have the right perspective on it all–and dealt with the c*nty ungraciousness of the Number One seed’s press conference like a champ. I never liked Sabalenka, and I never will now; nothing annoys me more than a sore fucking loser (cough Riley Gaines cough).

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning for sure.

Out gay actor Cooper Koch is having a moment, and good for him!

King of My Heart

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well–at least so far. Sparky is behaving himself (for now; I am sure he’ll be attacking my ankles and feet at any moment before going to sleep for the rest of the morning on the couch, because that’s just how he rolls, you know?). He got me up before six yesterday morning, which was fine. I managed to tumble out of bed and head to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of ambition; and I got the chores caught up that I had left so that I don’t have to play catch-up this morning. I also finished my Vicki Barr newsletter, but won’t be posting that until after Pride because, for this entire month, my newsletter is all gay all the time! Woo-hoo! I’ve also been picking up new subscribers, which is kind of nice, too–I generally don’t pay much attention to that kind of stuff because it makes me nervous, and I worry about writing for the audience instead of writing what feels right for me at the time–that kind of thinking is anathema for a writer, and it happens much too often for me when I am working on a novel or a short story than I would prefer.

But it was a good, productive day, and we did make it to Costco–we even got out spending less than four hundred, a rarity indeed–and the traffic on the way home wasn’t bad other than the usual occasional stupid white man nonsense. I read some more of Summerhouse, and The Dark on the Other Side, both of which I am enjoying thoroughly (I don’t remember the plot of the reread of the Michaels, so it’s like reading a whole new book), but also fell asleep in my chair after I finished the laundry–not really asleep, actually, but just sitting there kind of staring into space while my mind raced around, and before I knew it, it was seven and time to make dinner. But…I got a lot done around here, I got my work done, and we were able to get in two episodes of Department Q last night, which was lovely. The characters are all so interesting and complex! I think I am watching more for the characters than the cold case (which, to be fair, is interesting) they are working on.

And that’s saying a lot for a crime show, but of course, it’s British, not American.

I am feeling a bit tired and low energy this morning. Sparky the Alarm Kitty let me sleep till quarter past six this morning, which was odd, but my coffee is tasting good. The kitchen is still kind of a wreck–I still have stuff to put away from Costco, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and reloaded, and the rugs are all messed up–but I can get that all taken care of in a jiffy before retiring to my chair to read some more. LSU plays at 1 in the super regional, and I am going to have some food delivered today from the grocery store so I don’t have to leave the house. We had a marvelous thunderstorm and downpour last night (while the sun was out; it’s very disorienting to have it be so bright in the evening while the walk is covered in water and it sounds like a waterfall outside, the sound of falling water only disrupted by the occasional clap of thunder) but much as I hoped it would last all night, it did not. The heat index for today is forecast to be 105 (!!!!), which is another reason I don’t want to go outside if it can be helped today.

But the first part of my breakfast, already eaten, is making me feel more alert and awake and alive, which is, of course, quite marvelous. I want to write this weekend, too–I have two short stories that I want to finish first drafts of, I need to reread some old manuscripts to get back into writing them, and I need to make another to-do list. I’ve also organized all the short story submission calls I want to submit to–one of the new stories is for a deadline on June 20th, so I need to get moving on that one, for sure; I have something already that might be able to be tweaked and revised to fit, but that requires me sitting with my butt in my desk chair writing, doesn’t it?1

And on that note, the writing and cleaning and organizing (I also cleaned out my inbox and filed some yesterday like a good Gregalicious) isn’t going to do itself, so let me get my bowl of Cheerios, bring this to a close, and head into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely little Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

Ballerinos have always fascinated me with what they can do with their incredible bodies. I’d like to write a ballet noir at some point, bec
  1. Which is why I don’t mind getting up early the way I used to; I’ve been able to get so much more done on the weekends not sleeping in, plus it makes it much easier to get back into the swing of getting up early on Monday. Win-win? ↩︎

Getaway Car

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around yet again, and the week is half-over, huzzah! It’s all a downhill slide into the weekend now–wishing my life away again, as Mom always used to say–but can I help it if I enjoy my days off and look forward to them? Surely I am not alone in this, and I say this as someone who actually enjoys his job and what he does for a living (and health insurance).

Speaking of insurance, my nurse from Louisiana Blue (Blue Cross/Blue Shield) called me yesterday morning to see how I was doing and to check in about my treatment and care, which is really nice and again emphasized to me how serious this condition I have actually is. I was pleased to report that I feel better, am hungry all the time, and have gained back some weight, which is great. I am also glad she didn’t call Monday, when I was so tired and low energy…I suspect my answers and my enthusiasm wouldn’t have come across over the phone Monday.

I also finally got a first draft of a guest blog written that I should have finished back right after Saints and Sinners–but got sick. I’ve been writing my Pride posts for the newsletter, and one of them triggered an idea for how to write the guest blog, so I free-formed it and sent it to the blog host for input and feedback. (It also gave me an idea for another book, because of course it did–No Way Out, only the sex worker is gay which will be a big Washington scandal, would it not, with his Capital Hill clientele–because I need more ideas, don’t I?) I also spent some time with fiction last night after I got home from work, but my mind was a bit foggy so am not entirely sure if the work I did was any good or not, but…I wrote some fiction at long last!!!!

Huzzah!!!

After that, though, I was very mentally drained and felt tired. I made dinner for us, and then just settled in to relax for the few hours of the evening allotted to being awake before retiring early in preparation for today. I do feel better, every day–even tired and listless the other day wasn’t as bad as it used to be, so even that is getting better than it was. I’m trying not to overdo it, but at the same time I am rather chomping at the bit trying to get back into doing things and acting like I’ve completely recovered. I am not, and I need to remember that going forward when I am itching to do something which is pushing it–like pushing myself to write and do chores when I am already tired from everything I’ve always done; and I think Monday was actually a result of me doing too much over the weekend, honestly. So, I need to take that lesson and remember it the next time I am feeling ambitious. Just read something. I did spend some time with The Dark on the Other Side last evening, which has me in a Gothic mood, and I think Summerhouse might also be Gothic in tone; I do know The Mystery of the Haunted Mine is actually a Western treasure hunt set in Arizona. (And it was one of my favorite books as a kid.)

I also realized I don’t have to do a Pride newsletter every day for the month. That’s a lot of pressure on me to produce while at the same time writing this every day, and I kind of need to save some of my writing mojo for my fiction–even if it’s just thinking and taking notes. The newsletter was supposed to be different from the blog in that it wasn’t daily; I was even limiting it to once a week for a while there–as I said, even I get tired of my voice sometimes, let alone dropping into people’s inboxes who have other things to do. This meant another difference between it and the blog; the blog is stream of consciousness whatever I’m thinking about while I wake up over coffee and breakfast every morning (I am having Honey-nut Cheerios, a piece of toast with peanut butter and a second with strawberry belly–I prefer preserves and will remember that the next time I get some–and a slice of marble coffee cake); the newsletter had no pub dates, so to speak, so I could spend more time with those essays and go far more in depth than I can here, so why am I killing myself trying to send one every day? Am I no different from corporations, marginalizing queer culture and life and only examining it during Pride Month and then ignoring it? No, I don’t think so. I read queer books all year, absorb queer art, and think about my queer future in a country double-downing on its vicious homophobia. Everything I write, no matter what it is, is framed through my gay gaze; I am intrinsically queer and that impacts my art, no matter what I am creating.

And I also think, since oppression is so intersectional, I can talk about anything that falls under that umbrella, because I had to unlearn so much over the course of my adult life, and I am incredibly lucky to have so many kind friends who didn’t mind teaching me how to think in a more macro kind of way–every lesson unlearned was a revelation and gave me a new perspective on how to see the world, and how wrong the way I used to see it was. I’m not perfect, by any means, and I learn every day while acknowledging the possibility I still have bad things I was taught yet have not unpacked.

But I went to bed early–I was falling asleep in my chair after watching one episode of Department Q, which we are loving–and slept super well. I feel good this morning, awake and rested, which is very odd for a Wednesday, but it is very pleasing in our eyes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, everyone, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

I love these old dirt country roads, and the Spanish moss just makes it look even cooler. The image is very evocative, and I am already thinking of a story inspired by the picture.

Gorgeous

Well, yesterday was a disruption from the usual routine, wasn’t it?

The water was out at the office, as I may have mentioned as an addendum yesterday, so we couldn’t see patients and we all got an unexpected remote day. I hadn’t slept well Sunday night, so I was a bit tired and not a bit sorry to work from home, shamefully. I did get some work done, and I also loaded the dishwasher and got that chore finished. I also cleaned out the refrigerator, got rid of some old things close to turning, and reorganized it in there. I was still tired for most of the evening, but am pretty pleased with what I did manage to get done.

I hate starting out the week tired like that. I also was, I think, in calorie deficit and hadn’t brought near enough food to work to stave that off because I was starving when I got home. I stopped on the way home to get peanut butter and Creole tomatoes (they are sooooo good; I love Creole tomato season), and made a massive gyro when I got home. And was hungry for dinner, later, too. I can’t remember eating this much, ever, in my life before. And since I have disordered eating habits1, I do worry about eating so much and trying to gain weight, since it has been antithetical to my mental state and self-image of you need to lose some weight for so fucking long.

It’s very weird to be in my mid-sixties, yet still thinking about my disordered eating and body image issues. I used to think when I got older that would all go away. But it really didn’t, did it? I slowed down and did gain weight, of course, between fifty and sixty, and wondered if that was it, you know? But it would rear its ugly head in bad eating habits again, always. Conferences are dangerous for me because I will literally forget to eat–although I am doing better about that (he says, despite falling into the worst illness of his life after his last conference–but they were not related, much as I thought they might be; the dehydration and exhaustion exacerbated the UC).

But I did sleep well last night and feel good this morning. LSU managed to come back from the 5-1 deficit they faced after the second inning to win 10-6 (GEAUX TIGERS!) and now it’s on the Super Regional to see if they make it to Omaha and the World Series. How exciting and fun for them! Thanks, boys! A few more weeks of baseball are in the offing, which is always fun.

I did actually get some writing work done last night, too–not actual writing per se, but prep work. I also did some thinking about other stories and projects that I am currently working on, which was very cool, and I started reading Summerhouse, which was a very pleasant surprise, as the main characters are older and have been together for forty years; the book opens on their fortieth anniversary, and it’s kind of interesting read. (I’ve been thinking about writing about older characters since reading Laura Lippman’s Murder Takes a Vacation, and so that’d been on my mind.) I’ve not gotten very far into it, but will read some more of it tonight when I get home, as well as advancing in both The Dark on the Other Side and Mystery of the Haunted Mine.

And maybe–just maybe–I can get some actual writing done. I almost finished today’s Pride newsletter last night; I need to look it over and make changes and write probably another paragraph or two.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Happy Tuesday everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow or perhaps later. No one knows.

The gorgeous Steve Reeves, mid-twentieth century bodybuilding champion and star of Italian muscle movies.
  1. Not the same thing as an eating disorder; disordered eating is simply a bad relationship with food and eating, which I have had my entire life–there will be more about this to come. ↩︎

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

It’s Sunday, which means it’s June, so HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, everyone! Woo-hoo! (Cue the bigots and homophobes: why do they get a whole month when the military doesn’t? Sorry you don’t care enough about the actual military, self-styled “patriots,” to know when Military Appreciation Month is–read a fucking book sometime, okay?)

And by the way, assholes, if y’all didn’t come at us with shame all the fucking time, we wouldn’t need Pride in the first place–and remember, the first one was a riot.

My alarm Sparky let me sleep until just after six this morning, which is actually fine. My new sleep patterns had me awake before he started purring and poking at me; I was actually wondering where he was when I woke up, but I wait until he comes to get me up. Yesterday was a lovely, relaxing day for the most part. I finished reading all three of my books (!), which was delightful (enjoyed them all, too) but created a dilemma for me: I wanted to write newsletters about each book, but does anyone really want to get three newsletters from me in one day, especially when it’s Pride Month and I had intended to spend the month writing about being gay in America, and my sordid gay past? That would be four newsletters in one day, were I to do that, so I am on the horns of a dilemma1 this morning. I think I’ll write them all up and save the extras as drafts for later. I do highly recommend Murder Takes a Vacation by Laura Lippman, and I really enjoyed revisiting Moonraker.

And I plan on writing about all the kids’ series I enjoyed as a kid, so the Vicki Barr entry can be saved for later.

I did some chores yesterday, and was actually writing my newsletter about the new Lippman when our power went out yesterday afternoon. Only for an hour, unlike those poor people who went without for over twenty-four hours the weekend before, and I don’t know what caused it–it was a beautiful sunny yet cool day yesterday here in New Orleans–but I used that time to finish the Vicki Barr and barbecue dinner. Ironically, when I brought the hamburgers in when they were finished, the power came back. I watched some of the French Open, we watched this week’s Murderbot, the season finale of Hacks, and then binged some more of The Better Sister, which is superb. We’ll most likely finish that tonight.

I had already decided to bump queer writers and books up the TBR pile for Pride Month2, so my next new-to-me read is going to be Summerhouse, which Kristopher Zgorski recommended on his blog. My next reread will be The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels, and my next kid’s mystery reread will by The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, which has remained one of my favorite books from when I was a kid, and I got my copy from the Scholastic Book Fair; amazing that I still have it despite all the moves since then, right?

I feel very rested and relaxed this morning. I am still getting stronger (and more mentally back together) every day, which is terrific; My legs still tire easily, but that just means I need to exercise and walk more. I did doze off in my easy chair for about an hour yesterday–getting up early every day does that to me sometimes–but I also got some chores done, and have more to do today if I don’t get lazy. I have to run make some groceries later this morning–better to do it today than on the way home from work tomorrow, right? It’s so much easier to take I-10 home from work, even if the ramp to 90 and the west bank backs up; it’s still easier than navigating through Tremé and the CBD.

I also watched LSU’s baseball game last night against Dallas Baptist before going to bed, certain they would win, and they did; they are in the regional championship today. GEAUX TIGERS!

I’m still feeling good about things overall, too, which is definitely a good thing. I’ve got my to-do list (some things are ready to be scratched off) to work through, as well as these chores to finish up, so I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning–keep an eye out for the newsletter, too!

The courtyard of Madame John’s Legacy in the French Quarter
  1. Which also begs the question of what should I make my newsletter thematically in the first place? Do I even need a theme? This is what happens when I stop to think about things, you know, which is why I try not to ever stop to think about things. ↩︎
  2. Making me just as bad as cishet readers, right? “I only read queer books during Pride.” Ah, well, something else for me to deconstruct, right? ↩︎

I’m Gonna Get Married

Wednesday middle of the week blog, in which it is a miserable 48 degrees this morning in New Orleans, with a forecast high of a mere 67. Oh, well, I’ve survived worse, have I not? Indeed I have.

Yesterday turned out to be a good day. I finished the first draft of the short story (huzzah!) and started editing the first chapter of the book, primarily to get me back into the voice and swing of the story, and I feel like it’s already better than it was. It also felt delightful to be writing again, and the words were simply flowing out of me, which also was lovely. Needless to say, I was in a very good mood when I saved the files and closed Word. Hopefully tonight I’ll be able to get some more work done, and yes, I slept extremely well last night, too. I just felt better than I have about everything in a very long time.

I always forget how much I love to write, you know? I love writing and creating; which are my favorite things in the world to do. Part of the reason I was in the throes of another long-lasting malaise was because I wasn’t writing, which always affects my moods and how i feel about everything in my life and the world in general. The short story needs work, of course, it’s just a first draft, but once I finished it, I realized how to make the story stronger and make more sense to the reader. Huzzah for writing again! I also have my last supervised PT session this Friday morning, and then I am to do it all on my own. I have a lot of questions about that I will get cleared up at this last session. And once the Festivals are over, we’ll be back on our normal, most of the year schedule. I feel good still this morning–well rested, still pleased with the work I got done yesterday and very much looking forward to getting even more done today. The friend I had drinks with Monday night reminded me that I love to write, and that everything else is just a side effect. I’ve had some disappointments lately for sure–but that’s part of the up-and-down cyclical nature of the business side of things. Not everything is going to be as successful as you’d like, and it doesn’t mean I am a terrible writer or the book wasn’t good but rather that not enough people knew about the book to consider buying it. I’ve always been terrible about the business side of being an author; I need to make more of an effort in the future and learn how to do all the things I generally don’t like to do–but I also need to get over that and stop feeling like a carnival barker selling snake oil when I am doing it.

I am good at writing. And if I were able to devote all of my energy and focus into a book, that would be different.

I think my next read is going to be either a cozy or a Barbara Michaels reread. I’ve not reread some of my favorites of hers in years (I always end up going back to Ammie Come Home and Be Buried in the Rain but there are others I love almost as much, like The Dark on the Other Side, Witch, Prince of Darkness, and House of Many Shadows). I do want to write another Gothic at some point soon–I love Gothics–and there’s no better writer than Michaels to help get me into the mood and find the voice. There’s a New Orleans ghost story I want to write, and there’s at least one more Alabama book I want to write as well. I was thinking about reading She Who Was No More, the book Diabolique was based on, which is a fantastic and grim story. (I originally saw Diabolique in its American television movie remake, Reflections of Murder, which Sam Waterston, Joan Hackett, and Tuesday Weld.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader; I may be back later, one never can be entirely sure.

How Can You Expect To Be Taken Seriously?

Monday and here we are, getting ready to stare down yet another week.

We watched more of Little Fires Everywhere last night, and it really is extremely well done. It really is an interesting look at race and privilege and power; all while using tropes that were staples of soap operas. As the show amps up and starts racing along to its climax, the basis of the majority of the drama of the show is a custody struggle over an adopted baby–a storyline so stale for soap operas that I don’t know that the few left even use it anymore. But with strong writing, excellent production values, and an enormously talented cast, this stale trope not only works in this instance, but works very well. I am curious, though, as to why the book is set in 1997 rather than the present; the reason behind it isn’t apparent, and it feels incredibly current; although the music at school dances and so forth is rather jarring, and it takes a moment to remember that the story is set over twenty years ago. I don’t even notice the lack of smart phones and social media. I’m just sorry that I didn’t get a copy of the book to read along while I watch, which was such a terrific experience with Big Little Lies. 

And Reese Witherspoon certainly has a type of woman that she regularly plays, doesn’t she? Super Karen?

I finished a dreadful first draft of “Falling Bullets” last night, and it is dreadful. Fortunately there are other drafts to be done, and corrections and edits that can be made to it, but at this point I’m just happy I finished a draft–it’s been awhile since I’ve finished something I’ve started. At first I was rather nonplussed because about 1500 of the 2000 words I’d already written–mostly the stuff I’d written Friday evening–didn’t really work anymore; but I went back to the beginning and started tweaking things, and was even able to tweak enough of the 1500 problematic words to save most of them. So, while I am not pleased with the draft and its condition, I am pleased that it is finished, at around 4600 words.

I also finished reading Thunder on the Right yesterday, and had a lovely time with it. I do think it is one of the lesser Mary Stewart novels–but a lesser Mary Stewart is better than  a lesser writer’s best, so there’s also that.

I have decided to take today off from work; I am not feeling as great as I should, and literally cannot face another day of data entry and condom packing. Fortunately I have enough vacation time accrued for me to take yet another day off–although I really need to start letting the time build up again, for when this is all finally over and done with, so I can take an actual vacation, which is something I am going to be in seriously need of–and so am going to stay home, finish some odds and ends, and then get ready to face the rest of the week. I also have to work early tomorrow morning, so will have to get to bed early this evening; and I think we’re going to maybe start slowly opening the STI clinic next week. I am of two minds about this–I am certain we can do it safely, but at the same time I worry whether clients will be willing to come in to get their screenings done. I miss my old life, quite frankly, and like everyone else, long to get back to it. But unlike everyone else, I don’t see the old normal coming back. This situation has changed so much about our lives and how we do things, and in many cases, things that were considered “impossible” before have now been shown to be possible. I can’t imagine, for example, that the expensive old version of the book tour will return now that we have seen it can be done relatively inexpensively virtually. I easily can see publicists cutting expenses at publishers by arranging on-line interviews and readings and Q&A’s and book club meetings rather than spending money for an author to travel. And for authors who can’t foot the cost of their own tours, well–here’s an inexpensive alternative that may actually work.

Next up for the Reread Project is an old favorite of mine by Barbara Michaels, House of Many Shadows. Dr. Barbara Mertz wrote, of course, wonderful mysteries as Elizabeth Peters (if you’ve never read the Amelia Peabody series, you really, really  need to), and wrote suspense novels that may or may not have a supernatural bent to them–Ammie Come Home is, obviously, by far and away my favorite of these–as Barbara Michaels. I rediscovered the Michaels novels in the late 1970’s/early 1980’s, and became just as addicted to them as I would to the Elizabeth Peters novels later that decade; House of Many Shadows is one of my favorites of the Michaels novels; The Crying Child is another. The rest are also good without question, but to my mind those three are head-and-shoulders above the others. The Michaels novels also have great, great titles: Wait for What Will Come, Be Buried in the Rain, The Dark on the Other Side, and Witch, to name only a few. And, if I am being complete honest, Bury Me in Shadows was inspired by the Michaels novels; as was Lake Thirteen.

And the humor in the Scotty books probably owes more than a little to the influence of the Elizabeth Peters novels.

I also gave up on rereading Katherine Anne Porter’s long short story about the Spanish flu, “Pale Horse Pale Rider.” I can certainly understand why critics and literary enthusiasts shit themselves over Porter’s writing, but it just doesn’t work for me. I don’t care about her characters or what happens to them, and Porter is definitely one of those authors who–to me–loves the sound of her own voice; what could be said in a sentence or two turns into rambling pages and pages in which she basically says the same thing, over and over again. And she never wastes any time on making the reader care about her characters, or even getting to know them well. I thought, when I first read her Collected Stories years ago and found them to be tedious and boring (as I was rereading “Pale Horse Pale Rider” I could actually hear a Lit professor enthusing about her works in my head), and I thought I’d give them another chance, thinking perhaps I had matured enough as a reader to enjoy them now; that it was my own immaturity as a reader and lover of the written word that kept me from enjoying them in the first place.

I am pleased to report I am wrong, and that I find Porter’s work as constipated and dull as I did the first time, and there’s nothing wrong with not liking her work. I still dislike The Great Gatsby, even after reading it three times, after all; let the literary snobs come for me. I don’t care. Scoff at me all you like, I will never like or admire Porter.

And on that note, I think I’ll go lay back down for a bit. Have a lovely Monday.

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