Tag: tires

Hung Up

Ah. Monday. I am up even earlier than usual, so I can head to the West Bank to be there when my dealership opens. It’s too much to hope that they’ll be able to sell me a new tire and put it on my car in time for me to be there for our first client at nine, but fingers are crossed; this is what I am hoping against hope to be my reality today. Yesterday I went out and looked at the tire again, and saw that it had gone flat again overnight–or almost completely flat, the way it was yesterday before the air and the tape were applied. Heavy sigh. Have it towed in the morning, then take an Uber to the office and then an Uber to the dealership when it was ready? And of course, I couldn’t contact the dealership because they aren’t open on Sundays. And then I remembered…

Moron, you had to get full coverage insurance when you financed this car. And you never scaled the insurance back since you paid it off…so, full coverage insurance comes with roadside assistance.

So I went into the app, and ordered roadside service to change the tire for me. He took ten minutes to get here, another ten to change the tire; and he even aired up the donut, which had lost air the last time I used it (back in January). It was so easy. I could have done that yesterday morning (had I known) and spent my morning on the West Bank replacing the tire. But I didn’t run errands yesterday until later in the day–after everything was closed. And usually I run the errands around noon, because the mail has been delivered and put out at the post office by then. So, clearly doing things the way you’ve always done them isn’t necessarily a rut; sometimes it’s a good thing and it’s changing things up that turns out to be the real problem. Heavy sigh. Maybe I should stick to the rivers and the lakes that I’m used to, instead of chasing waterfalls.

But at least buying a new tire (and knowing I’ll need two more at some point; I think I’ll go ahead and start planning on that for around my birthday, or after I get back from Bouchercon in San Diego) isn’t going to break the bank nor require me to dip into our savings. I can actually absorb the cost without having to worry about it too much, so that’s a really good thing, and one that makes me rather happy. I am feeling much better about life in general these days, which is a good thing. I don’t feel like I have a weight pressing down on my spine anymore, and the brain fog I’d been experiencing a lot of since Mom died seems to have lifted; even if it’s temporary, I am very grateful for this brief respite I’ve had for the last few days.

I also decided to reread the prologues to the Scotty books before digging back into the new one, and along with the distance gained since the last time I reviewed and/or looked at this has been an enormous help. I now know what’s been missing from this manuscript, and it’s Scotty and his sense of humor; his way of looking at everything as a challenge to be handled rather than a blow to his life. And what I put him through in Royal Street Reveillon was a lot…so it would be normal for him to not be his usual self at this time…but the whole point of him is that nothing gets him down; “life doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle; it’s how you handle it that matters” is his motto. So yes, what happened during the course of the last book could have shaken him up a bit, but he’s not the type to stay down for long. It’s the joy that is missing from the book; that sense of “we can handle anything and still stay positive” is what connects readers to him. I guess it’s not a surprise that at the time I was writing the book it wasn’t easy for me to channel joy, given the real life situation(s) I was dealing with at the time; be kinder to yourself is a mantra I need to keep reminding myself of, and yes, writing a Scotty book in the midst of crushing depression and trying to revise it while grieving wasn’t really the smart thing to do.

So here we are, with me up before the crack of dawn with the dark pressing up against my windows and knowing I am going to be exhausted by the time this day ends. Not an auspicious start to the week, eh? But that was the flat (I kept going outside yesterday after the tire was changed to see if the spare had gone flat, and the last time I looked it was fine. Those little spares always make me terribly nervous.) I am taking a couple of Scottys, crammed into my back pack, with me to reread the beginnings to try to get the voice and mentality right for this final revision. I hate burning some of my paid time off this way, but what choice do I have, other than driving around on the spare until Friday or Saturday morning? That’s one of the things that has always mystified me about the work day, you know? Everyone works the same hours, basically, or close to them; which means workers always have to take time off from work to do anything–dentist, doctor, car repair, etc. I also get that everyone has the goal of working nine to five or an approximation thereof; but doesn’t it seem like it would make sense for some doctors or dentists or whomever would work later hours? We used to always have evening testing hours at the office to accommodate people’s work shifts; you could come get tested after work on your way home, or on your way out to dinner to meet friends. We also had weekend hours, and tested in bars or places of business–wherever people at high risk of infection gathered. We brought the testing to them….and of course I have always preferred non-traditional hours. Heavy sigh. I used to be able to do this kind of thing in the morning before my shift; now I have to take time off.

Ah, well.

And on that note, I am going to go get cleaned up and prepared to head to the dealership for the start of a lengthy, incredibly tiresome day. Have a great Monday, Constant Reader, and I will see you again tomorrow.

American Pie

I really didn’t want to get out of the cocoon of my bed this morning. The heavy blankets felt marvelous on top of me, and my body was completely relaxed into the mattress…and it was raining. Is there anything more lovely than being warm and snug and comfortable in a bed while it rains outside? I think not. I wasn’t even aware it was raining until I got up and came downstairs, where I could hear it clearly, and then ah, that’s why you stayed in bed longer this morning. Yesterday was a lovely day off from everything. I did pick up the mail and made some groceries at the Fresh Market. But when I went to the gas station to air up my tires–the light had come on–I noticed there was a small rip in the tire through which air was escaping. I came back home, got my Gorilla tape, and covered the rip before running the errands. When I got back home the tire seemed fine still…but every tire place was already closed for the day, which was terribly annoying. I had intended to make another stop on my errands yesterday but wasn’t able to from worry about the tire; I had been debating putting more air in it this morning and running the errand…knowing I have to get up super-early tomorrow to head to the dealer and buy a new tire and have it put on, making me late to work. At some point today I will be checking the appointment schedule for tomorrow morning to make sure it’s not an enormous hardship for me to be late coming in, but it has to be done. I can’t count on Gorilla tape to keep my tire from deflating, let alone having a blow out or something…so yeah, probably no errands today. My biggest fear is that the tire will be flat tomorrow morning, necessitating a tow truck or something.

Ah, well, at least I can afford the tire.

But obviously that was worrisome and frustrating, so I wound up not getting a lot of things I’d intended to do yesterday done. I had planned on not writing all day anyway, just having a nice relaxing day off from everything and everyone, but I never got around to reading my book, which was annoying. I did do a lot of filing and cleaning up my “sorting” folder (it’s where I put things temporarily to get them out of the way until I have the time to put them where they go), and I did some things around the house, but essentially almost the entirety of the day was wasted. Which is fine; I wanted to have a day where I didn’t do much of anything nor taxed my brain. We started watching an odd show last night, Muted, which stars two of the Elité cast (including my crush, the stunningly beautiful Manu Rios), but I couldn’t tell you much about the show because I kept falling asleep. I actually went to bed around ten last night–ten! On a Saturday night!–and slept super well, which was lovely. Friday night we watched Scream VI, which was fun, and Teen Wolf the Movie, which was pointless and stupid and completely made for fan service (and missing the Carver twins and the breakout star of the show, Dylan O’Brien), which was a shame. In some ways it seemed like a pilot for a reboot of the series with a new, younger leading man; which we would probably give a shot. (We really enjoyed the series for the first seasons; it eventually got so sloppy and confusing we did stop watching, but it was fun for a very long time, and definitely was one of the most homoerotic television series in history; I could write an entire essay about that aspect of the show alone–which would, of course, lead to the entire question of “queerbaiting,” which is a subject that often makes me tired. Then again, a lot of things make me tired.

The recent incident(s) at CrimeFest and the organization’s incredibly tepid response to the controversy (a moderator was inappropriate to a debut author before their panel; the toastmaster was a racist transphobic homophobic prick “but it was comedy” piece of shit) was deeply offensive. I don’t know what the ‘free speech’ laws are over in the United Kingdom, but I know what ours are, and I would like to think if someone got on stage as host at the banquets for either the Edgars, Anthonys, Agathas, or Leftys and started with “my pronouns are grammatically correct” yes, there would probably be some laughter, but there would also be boos and protests…and I’d like to think they would be pulled from the stage. But nothing surprises me anymore, really, when it comes to these sort of things. I saw yesterday a gay man expressing concern about the lack of action and the tepid public apology, only to have the usual response some a cisgender straight white woman saying you weren’t there and you don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes–you know, the usual condescending pats on the head from a stupid straight bitch who thinks she’s a fucking ally while actually being a homophobic piece of shit herself. Let me put it to you this way: if you wouldn’t condescend or speak to a cisgender straight man the same way, guess what? You’re homophobic and need to do better.

I think that’s one of the worst parts of being gay, you know? The cisgender straight people who think they are allies and proudly state so, all of the time; but give them the opening and they will immediately treat you like someone lesser. Because Anita Bryant, Maggie Gallagher, and the Libs of TikTok skank aren’t all cisgender straight white women, or Ann Coulter, Laura Ingraham, Marsha Blackburn–I could be here all day. It wasn’t gay men or queer people who put Donald Trump in the White House–it was straight white women. I can’t speak for anyone else in my community, but it’s extremely difficult for me to ever completely trust a cisgender straight white person, because they’re the ones who do all the damage and they’re the ones who choose to make us their villains. It’s incredibly easy to just sit around and say nothing homophobic, keeping all of your bigotries to yourself. But people are proud to be bigots; that’s the part I don’t get; there are people who can watch Mississippi Burning and think the FBI are the bad guys.

And then the public ignorance and cowardice of the Los Angeles Dodgers, caving into the demands of Marco Rubio (of all people) and the Catholic League, deciding to not give the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence an award recognizing all of their hard advocacy work going back decades and excluding them from the event of their Pride Night…only to be stunned, shocked and surprised when the other organizations being awarded at their so-called “Pride” Night pulled out and issued statements condemning them for their cowardice. I posted a rather lengthy (for me) thread about this on Twitter yesterday, explaining to the Dodgers and everyone else why this is so incredibly insulting and offensive to the entire queer community. For one thing, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were originally formed in 1979, got their habits from a group of progressive nuns (nuns can be surprisingly progressive; certainly far more so than their male counterparts) for all the charity work they were doing; flamboyance and silliness in the face of a hard world helping those no one else would. They were front and center during the HIV/AIDS crisis, helping people abandoned by society and left to die alone in shame. (The great irony that an organization of men in dresses, who have covered up and enabled the sexual abuse of thousands and thousands of children, complained about another organization of men in dresses who minister to the sick and poor–supposedly the mission of the first group–while accusing them of blasphemy, grooming, and pedophilia, should not escape anyone.)

Catholic Church, heal thyself.

And as I said on Twitter, the Dodgers essentially pissed on the graves of everyone we lost to HIV/AIDS, all the people currently living with the infection, and everyone who has done advocacy work. All to please MARCO FUCKING RUBIO and the Catholic League.

For years, critics of our pride events have complained about the commercialization of pride, going from a community event to one with corporate sponsors–corporate sponsors who also fund anti-queer politicians. The critics have stated that these corporations don’t see and support us because they think we deserve equality, but rather as a demographic with more disposable income than our straight counterparts (which I am never really sure is true, certainly for some upper middle class white cisgender gay men, it’s true, but I don’t know that it’s overall true for the entire community), and Pride is merely a cynical attempt for them to cash in on gay dollars. We’ve already seen Anheuser-Busch cower before our enemies, and now the fucking Dodgers.

So, yes, it appears that the critics were correct. Corporate Pride is merely a cynical attempt to build brand loyalty in what is seen as a key demographic, not actual support. We must never make the mistake of believing otherwise ever again. Corporations will abandon us in the snap of the fingers if challenged to actually put their money where their lying mouths are. It’s depressing that the critics were right all along.

I hate to break it to y’all, but the queer community has a much longer memory than the straight when it comes to this kind of thing, and it’s very hard for any company to come back from such a betrayal. I remember the Coors boycott, when it turned out both the company and the Coors family had funded the politicians that turned Colorado into what we called “the hate state”; and even though the family and company have since come around–good luck ordering a Coors in a gay bar. When your business betrays us we never forget. It just becomes a thing. Every time I see someone drinking a Coors to this day I think homophobe.

It’s astonishing to me how straight people, to this day, still think they can divide and split up our community and we’ll all go along with it. “Oh, we love the gays and want to have a Pride Night, but this part of your community isn’t welcome” always blows up in their faces, and yet…they never fucking learn. I was on the board of directors for the National Stonewall Democrats back in the mid-to-late aughts when our founder, Barney Frank, finally cobbled together enough votes in the House to pass the Employment Non-discrimination Act…but he only had the votes if protections for transpeople was removed from it. Barney was very excited about this…but the NSD saw it as a betrayal. “All or nothing” was our stance then, and we lobbied and called and sent emails–I believe we called the bill SPLENDA, because it was a substitute for the real thing–and killed it. That was in either 2007 or 2008. If we sacrificed a gain for gays, lesbians and bisexuals because of trans exclusion fifteen years ago, I can assure you nothing has changed; if anything, our inclusion insistence has gotten more deeply engrained into our consciousness.

So, we aren’t here for “conditional” acceptance. It really is all or nothing for us. I understand that principles and ethics most cisgender straight white people have a problem with, since they, as a general rule, have neither–but surprisingly enough, my community, always under attack from so-called Christians, actually do believe “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:37–40.)

Seriously, Christians, read the Sermon on the Mount again and get right with your Lord. It’s not that hard.

I am going to dive back into writing the Scotty book today, so I am going to sign off now and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back, as always, at some point.

Little Red Rooster

Well, the tire cost almost three hundred dollars to replace (I also had them replace the rear window wiper blade, but I don’t think that was terribly expensive)–more, if you count the personal time I had to take in order to get the car taken care of–but as Paul said, “It could have been worse–what if it happened on the causeway, or when you were driving back from Kentucky?” A very good point, further emphasizing the fact that he is, indeed, the smart one in the Lost Apartment. I treated myself to Five Guys once the ordeal was finished and I could drive back across the river and head into the office–it’s been a very hot minute since I last was able to enjoy me some Five Guys–and that made up for the inconvenience and irritation….somewhat.

I do love me some Five Guys. Thank God the only ones in my area are a pain in the butt for me to get to, or I’d have it all the damned time and would weigh a lot more than I do now.

Bruises appeared on my arm yesterday, which makes me tend to think that I really do need to have this injury looked at because I am older and it might be something serious. Do I want to have it looked at? No, I really don’t. I also probably shouldn’t wait until my primary care appointment in January, either. But I am going to wait until this weekend and see how it goes. If it keeps getting better–yesterday it only hurt when I was trying to carry or lift something, or moved it in a particular way–I may just let it go until January. I know, I know, probably not smart and I do have health insurance, but…if it’s just a muscle pull or a strain…and I think what I must have done was turn my arm too far to one side as a result of the tire getting stuck, which strained the muscles and tendons.

And if I end up having to have my arm amputated, that’s all on me.

But I was exhausted yesterday by the time I got off work. And had a minor little drama once I was home, so even then couldn’t rest until about seven-thirty, eight o’clock. Heavy heaving sigh. But I think I slept better last night than I have all week; I may have only woken up once or twice during the night, and I do feel somewhat rested this morning. Just one more day to get through before my work-at-home Friday tomorrow, which will be delightful, I am sure. And there’s no college football this weekend–which seems weird, but it was a rather long season, after all–so I have little to no excuse to not get caught up on things this weekend. The handyman came by yesterday and fixed the garbage disposal (praise be) which I need to clean and deodorize this weekend (I may need to stop and make groceries on my way home tonight). But it’s really no surprise I am tired this week–it’s been quite a week, from the tire to my book release to trying to get my new book finished to everything else I’ve had going on this week, and so I should be exhausted. We did finish the Victoria’s Secret documentary last night, and I have to say, the “#metoo”/Harvey Weinstein/Jeffrey Epstein” reckoning was not only way overdue but it’s quite bizarre to look back at it now and think, how did they get away with this shit for so long?

It wasn’t just women, either. It happened to men, too–I’m thinking of Henry Willson’s casting couch, and how he basically pimped his beautiful male clients out to Hollywood bigwigs, hence the basis for Chlorine–and of course, famously Brendan Fraser, who is having a very lovely career comeback now. But it was mostly the women these awful things happened to, and it’s no surprise that the reckoning took down Victoria’s Secret. The documentary series is interesting–I’d love to know what Epstein had on Les Wexler, because it had to not only be seriously bad but incredibly damaging; which means it could have been underage girls but my money is on underaged boys, frankly.

But as I said I feel rested this morning somewhat, and it will be more of a regular day for me–which hasn’t really happened all week, to be honest; Monday was messed up and so was yesterday; Tuesday was normal but it didn’t feel normal because I had the tire situation hanging over my head as well as the injury to my left arm (which feels fine this morning; there’s some tightness in my forearm when I turn my arm a certain way, and we’ll see how it feels when I try to pick something up and/or carry it with the left arm today). I had kind of wanted to go back to the gym this week or weekend, but if my left arm isn’t functional…I suppose I could go do legs only and stretch some. I don’t know what to do, really.

Heavy heaving sigh.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday (!) and I will check in with you again tomorrow.