Tag: The Traitors New Zealand

All the Beautiful Worlds

Ah, you have to love waking up and checking your email and the first subject line you see is Reminder: Inspector Hole is now on Netflix. It always makes me laugh–as does the fact his first name is Harry–because I sometimes have the maturity level of a junior high student. I’ve always meant to get to Jo Nesbø’s highly acclaimed series, just never have. The Festivals will be over by Sunday night, and so normality might return to the Lost Apartment (I’m not counting on it) soon and we can start watching a new show, or the new season of a favorite. I’ll be done with The Traitors New Zealand (I’m not enjoying this season as much thus far, but it should start kicking into gear soon. I was bitterly disappointed they banished the hottest guy already, which threw a wrench in my social theory I was developing from watching. Then again, it could be the exception that proves the rule. Sorry, Fili, you were gone too soon) by the end of the weekend. I will be heading down to the Quarter later for the Saints and Sinners opening party, but will probably come home directly after. Everything I have to do is on Sunday, which will make for a long, draining day, and am very glad I wisely took Monday off to recover and run errands and get ready for the week. I have some work-at-home duties to get done and a training later this morning on-line, so I am also going to try to clean the apartment when my eyes get bleary and start to cross. I got up and fed Sparky on time before going back to bed for a couple of hours, so I feel very rested this morning. Sparky is also playful this morning, so he’s alternating between attacking me with claws and fangs or chasing a bottlecap. He really is adorable, if a bit of a pest sometimes.

I was tired when I left the office yesterday and came straight home from work. I plopped down into my chair with Lord Sparkster and caught up on the news, which was horrible as per usual with this regime. I obviously watched an episode of The Traitors because of course I did, have you been paying attention? I was going to start watching the new Paul Theroux documentary but after seeing the toxic white men all day on social media I just couldn’t face even watching these twerps getting mocked the way I am sure the documentary does (my favorite comment to these pricks on-line is “if everyone’s an alpha no one is”), but I’ll try it tomorrow or tonight when I get home from the party.

The world figure skating championships are also this weekend, with Ilia Malinin in first after the men’s short, with the other Americans in the Top Ten–and Amber Glenn and Isabeau Levito are third and fourth, in medal position. I was very happy to see Ilia’s short program on YouTube last night; he seems much freer and happier than he did in Italy at the Olympics.

All the homophobes are, of course, out in force since it was revealed that a future season of Bridgerton will actually feature a lesbian romance by changing the gender of the male lead to a woman. Oh, the straight white ladies—the same ones who creamed themselves—and still do—about Heated Rivalry, and members of the m/m community suddenly realizing, like gay men have been telling them for almost twenty years, that it’s a fetish for some of you and you need to listen to gay men and call out the homophobia which you never did.

For the record, you homophobic bitches, I read and consume lesbian art regularly because it’s good, not because it gets me off. If a gay man can read and enjoy lesbian art, a straight woman certainly can. Then again, if it’s okay for straight women to write vampires and space aliens why can’t they write gay men? (This has been said to me any number of times. Yes, we only exist in fiction, bitch.) I saw a lot of this misogynistic patriarchical thinking from a lot of hateful straight white women yesterday, and no, you’re never beating the allegations, ladies. Clean up your community and stop attacking gay men.

Someone also pointed out something interesting in response to one of those right-wingers who posted about how he has liberal friends and they all get along because they don’t talk about politics—they noted these posts only ever come from the right, never the left. How often do you see someone on the left post about how they’re still friends with their right-winger friends and family because they don’t talk politics? It’s never someone who isn’t MAGA, and the post inevitably was triggered by being cut off from friends and family members because you voted for a pedophile who’s destroying the world. “You make politics your personality!“ Well, I sure as fuck wouldn’t if I were MAGA, for one, and for two, it’s not politics, it’s morality. How many “I regret my vote” posts and videos have you seen from Harris voters? None? I do see a lot of pining and sadness from MAGA people who’ve been cut off, but they never seem to grasp what their vote and support actually showed decent human beings about who they actually are. I wouldn’t feel safe having my kids around people who support pedophilia, or just are okay with looking the other way.

Sigh.

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

The Temple of Poseidon, Attica, Greece

Belle Fleur

How is it pay the bills Wednesday again? Yesterday was a decent day, and I was worn out and fell asleep in my easy chair around nine while Paul packed. He’s moving into the Monteleone today for the Festivals, so I have been left alone to deal with a lonely kitty with abandonment issues. I ran my errands after work–my next dose of medication for my next injection arrived–and did another load of dishes and picked up a bit. I also watched a few episodes of The Traitors New Zealand–but it’s too early in the season to really decide anything about it yet. I was impressed they voted a traitor off at their first banishment, but I suspect it will be a while before they get their next one.

I wrote my newsletter essay about Mississippi Blue 42, which you can read here. I really enjoyed the book, and it made me think a lot, not just about college football, but writing about sports authentically. There are just so many hokey tropes and clichés in sports that are easy to fall into–the plucky kid who never plays but wins the big game; the poor kid using sports as a way out of poverty and to get an education; the big game that comes down to the final play; the big comeback; and on and on and on. But that’s the thing about sports, though–you can see a trope play out in a game on your television every weekend. Eli Cranor addresses some of these in the book, but handles it in a way that makes it not feel tired or overused, but rather inspired and fresh and new. That’s a skill, y’all–Eli Cranor is a real one. Add him to your reading list–and if you’re not a football fan, the writing alone is good enough to appeal to everyone.

Since Paul won’t be home tonight, when I get home from work I have to get used to Paul not being here. His work schedule is incredibly intense and erratic in the months leading up to the festivals, so spending the evenings alone with Sparky isn’t new; what’s new is I’ll wake up in the mornings and he won’t be here. Tonight will depend on how I feel after work, I think. Tomorrow night will be my usua; Thursday night exhausted not do anything night, and then of course I have to do the whole prepare for panels and a reading thing over the weekend, taking Lyfts to and from the Quarter. I took Monday off as a recovery day, and then it’s back to work with a vengeance. It never ends, does it? Ah, well. Today I am going to look through my to-do list notebook (I’m trying this “running list” thing I’ve lifted from Donna Andrews’ marvelous series) and figure out what I need to get done first, and what is plausible and/or possible. I need to start writing fiction again, but the last few attempts were so futile that I’ve not really wanted to try again. It’s silly; nothing’s changed, and this is simply a mental block that I’ve created, but I keep thinking, with the country and world burning to the ground does any of this matter? Which is dumb; in my newsletter essay about being a DEI author I know that, small as it may be, my authorial voice is an act of protest every time I write about queer people. I had started writing a story for that American Gestapo anthology, and it was an excellent idea–but it really took me into a dark headspace I didn’t want to be in, so I put it aside.

I also filled my tank–a Honda CR-V, for the record–and it cost over forty dollars. I don’t think I’ve ever filled my car for that much since I bought it in 2017. Nice job, MAGA. But hey, so what if you self-owned as long as you owned the libs, right? No sympathy for any of you, really–especially you three-time MAGA voters. I am amused that the media blamed “economic anxiety” for the 2016 and 2024 elections…how did those votes work out for you? Looks like the Midwest is about to get destroyed again with the cost of fertilizer, and you have no workers this year, either, so what was the point of the farmer welfare money?

And make no mistake about it, Midwest red voting farmers–you’re on the fucking dole; why don’t you pull yourself up by your bootstraps? Why should my tax money bail your racist asses out?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely pay=the-bills Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow after my first night alone.

The pier at Panama City Beach, Florida

If You Were My Love

Well, we survived Monday, did we not? It wasn’t a bad day, really. I was tired by the time I got home rom running errands, and allowed myself to get pulled into the vortex of the comfy easy chair and the purring kitty who needs a lap. The news was as grim as ever, and now we have ICE at our airport (and many others) supposedly to “help” TSA…but that’s not what I am seeing happening all over the country. Not flying ever again is looking better and better all of the time, amirite? I am slowly getting caught up on all the news I missed while I had gone dark, and it’s the same sort of shit-show it was before I left for Alabama last Thursday. The lies being told by the administration about Iran go on and reported breathlessly by the lame-stream media1 without any question–you know, the same media that betrayed us all over Iraq and clearly learned not a fucking thing from that dereliction of duty, but rather seemed to race each other to the bottom to become even more sycophantic, anti-democracy, right-slanted garbage than Fox and Newsmax.

Sigh. Don’t we deserve better?

I always thought so, at any rate.

I feel good this morning. I slept well, my mind is clear, and my Achilles tendons still ache a bit; I didn’t ice them last night so will have to tonight. I also got my Saints and Sinners schedule so if you want to find me there, here you go:

Sunday, March 29, 2026

11:30 AM—12:45 PM—Literary Discussion 
TURNING THE SCREWS

One of the best experiences for a reader is to get so caught up in a novel that they have a physical reaction–dilated pupils, increased heart rate, and an inability to put the book down until the final page. Whether the dramatic tension comes from an internal, psychological source or from exterior forces, authors are masters at turning the screws and torturing their audience by creating unbearable suspense. Join us for a lively discussion on tricks of the trade and ways to keep people on tenterhooks until they can think of nothing else!

Panelists: Christopher Castellani, Greg Herren, J.M. Redmann, and Audrey Wilson

Moderator: Salem West

Hotel Monteleone, Lobby Level, Royal B

2:30—3:45 PM—Reading Series

SAINTS AND SINNERS: WRITERS READ

Sponsored by the John Burton Harter Foundation

Take the rare opportunity to hear authors in their own voice. This highlighted Festival event has authors share their vivid imaginations with their new creations, or revisiting a past work that holds special meaning. Please join us in welcoming: Rob Byrnes, Laurinda D. Brown, Drew Banks, Andrew Faye, Greg Herren, Thomas Mallon, Steve Majors, and J.M. Redmann for this year’s mix of established and exciting new writers.

Hotel Monteleone, Lobby Level, Royal D

I’ll probably turn up at the opening reception and the anthology launch on Saturday, and will stick around for the closing on Sunday before heading home. I’ve taken Monday off as a recovery day (and here’s hoping neither Paul nor I get hospitalized afterwards this year). I did start watching New Zealand’s The Traitors last night–I love how different yet the same they are from country to country–and I am thinking about watching this new Paul Theroux documentary about the toxicity of the “manosphere”…which counts as research for my lengthy essay series on masculinity and my perceptions and relationship to it. I have to pick up the mail again tonight after work–my next dose of my injection is being delivered today–and then it’s back home and possibly some chores before I either read or catch up on the news. I’ve selected my next read, but I don’t want to name it yet because I am having so much trouble with reading these days and I don’t want to give the impression that the book isn’t involving; the fault does not lie with the books but with me. We shall see how it goes, won’t we? I also need to go through my to-do list to remember what all I need to get done.

The memory is the first to go.

I’m also still playing around with the ideas for a new Scotty, which is now titled French Quarter Follies, which I cannot believe I’ve not used yet (madness). I hope to get back to doing some writing and targeted creativity this week…but haven’t I been saying that already for months? Author, heal thyself.

And on that turgid note, I will now proceed to clock-in at the spice mines for the day. Enjoy your Tuesday, Constant Reader–and may it ever be a Taco Tuesday.

  1. We are in dark times indeed when I use a phrase coined by moronic hockey mom and overall hatefully ignorant piece of shit Sarah Palin, but here we are. ↩︎