Tag: trolls

Since I Held You

Ah, another work at home Friday and man, was I fatigued yesterday. I’m hoping that sleeping late this morning and tomorrow will knock the last of the fatigue out of my system. I was more mentally alert in the morning than I’d been since the infusion, but the brain wiring started sparking and malfunctioning in the afternoon. I do hate when that happens, and my legs get super-tired and my feet feel like I’m just dragging them along for the ride. Most unpleasant, actually. Needless to say, I didn’t run any errands on the way home last night, but after getting caught up on the news once I was home, I started doing research again on the 1970s by watching Youtube videos. (It’s amazing how much I’ve forgotten about the 1970s.) Today after work we’re going to go to Costco and run some various other errands, which means I’ll probably be exhausted again tonight. But that’s okay, I feel rested (my legs are still fatigued, though) and it’s always nice to get up to a cat alarm than to the horrible electronic beeping tones of an alarm.

I was kind of bummed there wasn’t a new episode of South Park this week, and I have to say, between the show and Gavin Newsom, I think this marks a sea change in the country. Turns out the MAGArbage doesn’t like being treated the way they’ve treated other people for the last ten years. Aw, they’re needing safe spaces like the precious, unique little snowflakes they are and always have been. But the masks are off them now permanently, and their narcissistic tantrums about “their” country and their “true” patriotism.

Sorry, if you try to overthrow the government, you’re not a patriot. And have we forgotten “Let’s go Brandon”? You’re not a patriot if you’re trying to cram your beliefs and values (such as they are) down the throats of everyone. You’re not a patriot if you celebrate and applaud violations of the Constitution. You can fetish worship symbols you don’t understand (for the record, wearing the flag as an article of clothing is also considered a desecration) all you want, but that doesn’t make you a patriot, especially if you don’t understand and appreciate what they symbolize.

And for the record, I am not about forgiving and forgetting. Straight white people, if and when this horrible period actually ends, will be all about that… just as they were after the Civil War. They always prefer to support other white people than oppressed minorities, to the detriment of the country, and we just wind up back where we were yet again because so many white people won’t address their bigotries and prejudices.

And as for Jillian Michaels, she has always been a garbage person. Anyone who calls herself a “gay woman” instead of “lesbian”? That’s kind of telling. She wants to join, and only associate, with the rich conservative cisgender white gays1. I do take some consolation in knowing that her unspeakable vileness means she is miserable and unhappy; it’s written all over her face. She must really be bitter that she can’t shame and embarrass overweight people on national television anymore. She was a disgrace to the fitness profession, and she’s a massive embarrassment of a human being. I hope she marries someone just like her and forgets the prenup. Irrelevant and useless, why does being a hateful bitch on television make her an authority on history and politics? Because she once had a reality show? Bitch, please.

This week, Taylor Swift announced, on the Kelce Brothers podcast, that she was dropping a new album, The Life of a Showgirl, in October. Yesterday she released the four alternate covers of the album, one of which is this:

One of the covers for Taylor Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl.

She looks amazing, doesn’t she? But of course, trolls (who really need to get a life) did what they usually do whenever she does anything. The cover above was shared on social media by some bitter pill of a man in Houston, saying “She has young fans! How is this appropriate?” I personally have seen more skin on the beach or at a pool, and sometimes in the French Quarter. Yes, this is the problem, not a president who’s in the Epstein files for child rape, or all the youth pastors, or preachers, or priests arrested on the daily for raping kids. No, Taylor Swift in a Las Vegas-style showgirl outfit–on theme for her album–is the real problem2 kids are facing today.

God give me strength.

I am pleased to report, however, these zeta males were thoroughly ratioed and dragged in the comments…I don’t understand this sick need some people have for negative attention and being humiliated on-line (probably bots, but in some cases they are actually people), and probably never will.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely not be back until tomorrow morning.

  1. The Log Cabins are vile, period. ↩︎
  2. Where is all the upset about kids possibly finding out about Laura Loomer and “Arbys in her pants”? Give me a break. ↩︎

Treat Her Right

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, thank the Lord. It has been a week. Yesterday was yet another one of those days, and by the time I ran my errands and got home, it was almost six thirty and I was exhausted, too exhausted to do more than put the groceries away and do a little writing before my brain went fuzzy and had to stop doing anything. We watched this week’s Prime Target, and shortly after that was over I was way too tired to do anything else other than tumble into bed; so tired that I in fact forgot to set my alarm. I got up when I always do, and without the ability to hit snooze just went ahead and got up. So, again, today is an out-of-sorts day because I am off my usual routine. It should be relatively simple today–an easy sort of catch-up between clients day–because almost all of yesterday’s fires (save one) burned themselves out before I fled the office at the end of the day and never looked back.

But hope springs ever eternal in my heart, mind and soul, and here’s me hoping that today will be the easy Thursday to glide elegantly into my remote work day and the weekend. I’ve still not made the to-do list I keep threatening to make, and I do think if I ever am able to do that (maybe over lunch today?) I might be able to get back on track. My memory is shit and mostly worthless anymore; I forget far more than I remember. Truth be told, I started doing that in my thirties, and it did help me a lot. It always did. So why do I not make them anymore? Self-sabotage1? Maybe.

Probably.

Le sigh.

And last night we had the first of probably many air collisions that killed everyone on board both craft. Thank GOD we have a professional bigot and former reality show ‘star’ in charge over the Department of Transportation than that DEI hire, Pete Buttigieg, right? (we really need a sarcasm font.) Nothing like cutting back on essential services for the general population, right? Who needs air traffic controllers? That’s some WOKE bullshit right there! By the way, racist assholes–how much are eggs today? Why is it okay for them to be expensive under one president when the previous one was blamed for the price? I am so fucking sick of hypocrisy…I didn’t vote for this shit show, and don’t think I am ever going to forgive anyone who voted for this, let alone letting anyone forget it. If I was going to have a tombstone, I’d want it to read I VOTED AGAINST IT ALL!

Sigh. It is so easy to allow the depression and negativity to take over and wallow in it, isn’t it? But that doesn’t get the work done, and it doesn’t make me feel any better about anything. The constant barrage of insanity and stupidity, reported breathlessly by the legacy media like it’s completely normal, pundits and influencers and everyone everywhere all at once with their (usually toxic) thoughts and opinions…it’s a lot and it’s also exhausting. That’s always their game plan–throw so much shit that you get worn out trying to avoid it and get overwhelmed and give in out of sheer exhaustion and hopelessness. Rage and anger are also exhausting, so getting on the outrage carousel makes it worse. I know, I know; I don’t just block anymore I will sometimes say shit, which I shouldn’t because why? Scoring points off a moron isn’t an accomplishment–and not one to be proud of if it is. I don’t like when some ignorant stranger pops off on social media and rather than scrolling past or blocking, I respond instead of blocking. Now that the trolls from Twitter are making their way over to the newer sites and bringing their shittiness with them, I’ve allowed myself to snap at their smug stupidity and cruelty. I don’t care about being shitty to them–they deserve far worse than what I might say to them on social media–but I don’t like having my mind go so negative. I guess that’s what happens after a lifetime of people trying to bully you on the reg. I also don’t see sinking to their level as particularly negative–and trust me, I do hold back because I can go so low I would come out on the other side of the planet–but I don’t like even giving them a moment of my energy, energy that could be used for positivity.

And on that pensive note, I am going to head into the spice mines and avoid social media for the rest of the day to preserve my peace. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll most likely not be back before tomorrow!

  1. The marvelous Benjamin Dreyer was talking on social media the other day about the etymology of the words sabotage and saboteur–and now I will always say them with a French accent–sab-o-TAHJ! ↩︎

Don’t Bring Me Down

Saturday morning and how are you, Constant Reader? I overslept this morning, because I was a bit tired from the gym and running errands yesterday. It rained all night (part of the late sleep, methinks) and it’s raining now, in fact. I don’t think the rain is going to let up again (or for long) until the cold weather gets here whenever it decides to arrive; probably overnight on Monday (it’s almost like God doesn’t approve of Monday, doesn’t it?). But I feel very good today. Paul will be gone most of the afternoon and will most likely be working upstairs for the rest of the day when he does get home. I need to make groceries today, but am hoping the locusts haven’t descended on the grocery stores to doomsday prep for the winter storm and snow in New Orleans. (Snow in New Orleans is absolutely insane. It’s happened before but it’s very rare–and I really do need to write a Scotty book called Winter Storm Waltz, or Snow Day Story or something like that.) I grew up in snow, and learned how to drive in snow when I was a teenager. I also lived in Minneapolis for an incredibly bitterly cold and snowy winter, so while I dislike the stuff for the most part (and because it requires cold to happen), it doesn’t really bother me when we have the rare, occasional frozen precipitation every few years or so. But New Orleans has no idea how to deal with it because most people here have never had to learn, and what to do when your car starts to slide has to be instinctive, almost a second nature, whereas here? Everyone will drive ten miles an hour and will slam on the brakes when they slide, which causes a disaster for them and everyone else on the road, so yeah, probably best to not deal with terrified New Orleanians on the road Tuesday. I imagine the roads will be closed, which will make getting to work difficult, and I’ll no doubt have to get up early in the morning anyway to find out if the office is closed (shades of snow days in school!), but who knows what’s going to happen–and the northern part of the state will get hammered much worse than we will down here south of I-10 (I-10 is the temperate dividing line in Louisiana). It’ll be interesting, to be sure. No model tracking seems to agree, which makes it all a SURPRISE.

I don’t have much to do outside of the house other than some errands, which I’ll do later on. I don’t think there’s anything pressing we need to see on television other than the Australian Open, which will also be great background noise. I don’t get into tennis as much as I did when the Williams sisters played, and I definitely miss Rafael Nadal. I’ve not watched enough of the younger players to be a fan yet–for some reason I don’t watch nearly as much tennis as I used to–but I used to get every excited when it was time for a major tournament, and now I forget about them entirely unless Paul mentions them–and even he doesn’t seem all that interested anymore, at least not the way he used to be. Of course, neither of us play anymore either, which might have something to do with it. I can’t even imagine trying to run around the court now, let alone trying to swing the racket with my bad arm (my backhand was two handed). That ship has sadly sailed, but I am looking forward to the day when my weight lifting is back to what it was before the injury–just being able to do heavier weights alone, and I am being patient with the slowness of the progress. (I got frustrated when I tried to go back the times since the surgery.) Patience is the key. I did make it to the gym yesterday–even walked over there–which did kind of wear me out a bit, but it was a good tired, and I am sure that helped me sleep so well last night. (The heavy blankets–man, who knew what a difference to sleeping that would make!) Yesterday was overall a pretty good day. I got my work from home duties taken care of, did some chores, ran my errands, and even wrote for a little while. I also started reading Farrah Rochon’s Bemused, which is absolutely delightful and a book I am really looking forward to getting back to (once I finish this and go to my easy chair so Sparky will stop attacking me and go to sleep); I’m also looking forward to getting caught up on things and doing some writing today. We watched LSU beat Florida in gymnastics last night at the PMAC, which was fun and the Tigers were even a bit off and could have scored way higher than they did. It’s going to be an exciting gymnastics season here in Louisiana, isn’t it? I also got some cleaning done around here, which was great and I hope to keep that momentum going so by the end of the long weekend, the Apartment will at long last be finally back in order.

Hilariously, yesterday I actually failed in my “block and don’t engage on social media” vow when some stupid troll tried coming for me. Before remembering not to engage, I fired off several rapid-fire trolling responses, and waited an hour to block the bot/troll/subhuman, to make sure they saw the responses before blocking. I had commented on one of Carrie Underwood’s posts about her getting on her knees for MAGA (y’all called Kamala a whore; for me that means MAGA women are not off the table and deserve every pie in the face they so richly deserve), and here comes the fucking bot/troll/subhuman out from underneath “her” bridge (quotes because I am not convinced it was actually a woman; frankly this person’s humanity was definitely questionable. Her response to me was hey beta boy and went on to be the usual drooling lickspittle bullshit MAGA subhumans they are. So, I looked at her profile: proud gay conservative woman, wife, mom and grandmother. MAGA! Patriotism! I replied, oh a gay conservative? Please die in a fire. Not nice, but how could a so-called “gay conservative woman” use a gay slur to refer to someone else in the community? They don’t, and any queer person who would is simply a quisling hoping to be a guard in the camps. “She” then told me she was going to make me “internet famous” and tagged some gay conservative “influencer” (please) to “blow up my life” and “regret ever being born.” Naturally, I clicked through to this person’s profile and WOW. A whole 32k followers, most of whom were most likely bots and alt accounts. I replied, do your worst. I fought off the Wildmons, Concerned Women for America, and the American Family Association. You think I’ms cared of some nameless faceless bitch on social media and the pathetic expired twink you snitch tagged? Bring it on. After fifteen minutes, I added, still waiting. Maybe you don’t have any friends? I waited another fifteen minutes, and added, big talk and no action, what a surprise from a sad pathetic soul whose life is as empty and sad as “her” threats. I waited another hour, and nothing. I blocked them both. I guess she thought I was going to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep? I also said I’s rather be a beta boy than an omega skank licking Trump’s ass-crack. Nothing. After another hour waiting for the promised Internet pile-on (I was going to just block them all), I blocked both her and the expired twink she tagged.

And for the record, I can’t speak for all, but I have never, ever known an actual woman who called herself “a gay woman.” The word is lesbian, bitch. “Gay woman” is an absolute red flag for me; the only time I ever hear a woman say she’s gay is in a TV show or a movie, and it never sits right with me. Gay is almost exclusively used for men, and saying “gay woman” is, at best, misogynist because using that word, even to describe the entire community (which is why I say queer) erases women. So, I find it really hard to believe there’s any lesbian out there who would be misogynist; but then again, conservative gay woman says it all, doesn’t it? If she were a real person, she’s more deserving of pity than contempt; imagine hating everything you are so badly.

Don’t bring the heat for me unless you are prepared to be incinerated. I never start it, but I will fucking finish it–and trust me, straight people, I’d highly recommend you don’t poke with the homophobe stick unless you are prepared to have your self-worth decimated.

And for the record, straight people joking about being in a same-sex relationship isn’t funny, it’s actually pathetic and homophobic–and it’s as tired as your macho man masculinity, girls.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Saturday. Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow or perhaps later today; one never really knows, does one?

Shake

Well, yesterday was a good day for one Gregalicious. I didn’t get as much done around the house as I would have preferred, but c’est la vie. I did have football games on all day, mostly as a break from monotonous silence, but I did get to see the Florida upset of Mississippi, and surprisingly enough, LSU beat Vanderbilt last night to stop their three game losing streak…but have to play Oklahoma next, who managed to not only upset Alabama last night but beat them pretty soundly. After the LSU game I caught the end of Auburn-Texas A&M, which Auburn finally won in quadruple overtime. What a crazy year this has been in the SEC, has it not? Now the winner of Texas-Texas A&M will play Georgia for the SEC title. #madness.

But one thing I remembered finally is that I usually read during games I don’t necessarily care about, and so I finished The Reformatory by Tananarive Due at last yesterday, and what a read it was. I’d say it’s one of the best books I’ve read in a very long time, and I read a lot of really good books, so that is really saying something. I’ve added Due to my list of “must-read” writers, and she has a substantial backlist I am looking forward to exploring. It took me a very long time to get through this book, because it was so powerful and the horror in it was so completely real, but more on that later. I am going to go out on a limb and call it a masterpiece for now, and encourage you to read it if you have not. Today I am going to start reading Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen, whom I’ve met and found delightful, and whose career I’ve been following avidly. I’ve yet to read one of his books, but I am very excited to read one of the most acclaimed queer mysteries of the last few years. I’m also kind of thrilled to be reading fiction again. Today I am also going to read a couple of short stories a friend sent me to read, and probably will do some writing, either short story, essay, or the book, today as well. I went to get the mail and made a grocery run yesterday, so I don’t have to do anything errand-like today, but I should probably make it to the gym later this morning. The weather has been wonderful, and one thing I am determined to do this year is drive around the city taking pictures of Christmas decorations. I definitely want to write a nice essay about Christmas this year, and the essay I worked on briefly yesterday, “Recovering Christian,” is one I started working on about twenty years ago. The lovely thing about Substack is I now have a place to post those essays, and share them with the world. I do have to make more of an effort to post content there at least once a week.

I do wonder if all the readers I picked up there during my ranting about homophobia post are expecting that kind of content all the time? I don’t know, but in some ways I am thinking that the Substack (also a place to publish short stories, too, if I so choose) is kind of a good place to write about my life, and explore issues of being a queer American writer, and my thoughts and opinions about systemic bigotry, and all the things I was miseducated about as a child. (American Mythology, hello?) That way it will live up to the name it shares with this blog, “Queer and Loathing in America.” I also want to write essays about my gay life, and the lessons I learned the hard way, as well as writing. I’ve been unpacking my past ever since Mom died–the first time I’ve ever allowed myself to look back–and while I am not sorry I never did this before, I am also learning a lot more about myself and why I do things and why I react the way I do and how much of my life was controlled/driven by anxiety. I was fine at the party the other night, but too many people in spaces still makes me uncomfortable and uneasy, but that’s okay. The claustrophobia might be anxiety related, or it may be entirely it’s own thing, but the primary difference was that there was no adrenaline spike or spiraling. I was able to relax, and kind of enjoy myself more.

And that is what I meant when I said I was pulling back from the crime community and centering myself. I want to focus on myself, on Paul, and our needs and what we need to do and handle and take care of, and I don’t want to do emotional labor for anyone else anymore. I’ve been watching a lot of Youtube and TikTok videos about cutting MAGA voters out of your life, or at the very least setting boundaries, and I saw one that really made a lot of sense to me: we don’t feel safe around them, but we don’t have to cut them out entirely, we just have to stop giving them emotional labor. Go get sympathy from another MAGA voter, since you’re all so empathetic and sympathetic to the concerns, fears and rights of other people. It’s why BlueSky has been flooded by Twitter trolls, now that the genius has killed that platform (but hey, let’s put him in charge of government!). They don’t enjoy talking to each other, so they have to “pwn the libs.” But they just get blocked, so they’re the ones who wind up in a echo chamber. Hell, I block people who annoy me. It’s my space, my experience, and if I don’t want the aggravation of annoying people or giving them time or energy, well…no one can make me engage with people who steal my peace.

I also don’t think people understand how casual homophobia, so easy for straight people to slip into with their excessive privilege, makes us feel when we hear it or hear about it or (in some cases) read about it in screen shots. Not only do we no longer feel safe around you, we can’t count on you to stand up for us when the chips are literally down. There’s been some slightly viral conversation about some Jewish lesbian who voted for Trump and has been cut off from her friends and kicked off a team. “I wouldn’t do this to someone who voted for Harris,” she cries her crocodile tears, as she sits down with right-wing podcasters and plays victim and martyr. She voted for Trump because of pro-Palestine lefties…or so she claims. So she aligned herself with someone who actually had dinner with a Nazi, and has been embraced by American Nazis. Who ally themselves with the Proud Boys and other ant-Semites (who precisely are the voters who chant “Jew will not replace us” again?), and now wants everyone to feel sorry for her and pretends ignorance. Sorry not sorry, bitch–your new buddies and the Karens posting on your instagram talking about how horrible it is that queers actually can see this quisling bitch for who she is? Those bitches will be the first ones to turn you into the SS, moron. It’s especially egregious because my education in feminism and social justice was at the hands of lesbians; I’ve always thought lesbians, of all people, would know better than this bullshit. And this bitch is talking about “how we all need to have these tough conversations”–no, we don’t, honey. The time for tough conversations was before the election, and trust me, there’s not a single tough conversation I could possibly have where I’d be willing to come to an agreement or compromise with people who cheered the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 80s and 90s. You don’t compromise with the Klan. You don’t compromise with Nazis. You don’t compromise with people who’s starting position is “you don’t deserve any rights, and you really shouldn’t exist.”

Feel free to pound your head into that wall until it’s pulp, Benedictine Arnold. Enjoy the lonely life of celibacy you’ve set up for yourself.

The funniest thing about her is she is a butch lesbian–short hair, masculine clothes, the whole ball of wax–and you know she is going to get challenged going into the ladies’ bathroom or changing room.

Good. Enjoy what you voted for. I have no patience with queer remoras attaching themselves to the sharks circling the rest of us. I certainly have no forgiveness in my heart for the future informers and camp guards. She showed us who she is, and we believe her.

And on that note, I am going to head over to my chair to read for a bit before I get to work around here. I slept really well again last night, and feel pretty good this morning. I also want to work on my review of The Reformatory, and get some other things done. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later on.

The ‘In’ Crowd

The last few days…let’s just start with saying that there is a lot of garbage on social media. The Katrina anniversary is always a bit hard for me, but has gotten easier over the years. I’ve even gotten to the point where I don’t even think about it until the anniversary posts and photos of the disaster start showing up on my social media feeds. I am also writing a book set during hurricane season and opens during a tropical storm/Category 1. So seeing people troll people’s posts about it is, frankly, disgusting. There was one particular bitch from Bryan, Texas, who took it upon herself to reply to everyone’s comments on a particular thread posted by one of our local television stations, memorializing those who died. Almost all the response comments on said post were from people who lived through it, commiserating and remembering their experiences and how terrible it was. This bitch responded to every one mockingly, saying things like if that was the worst thing I went through I’d consider myself lucky or Tell me why you’re not still over this minor interruption and so on. She had MAGA written all over her profile and personal feed, of course, because the cruelty is what they love about their movement.

And of course, another Southern white woman writer (not in the mystery community, but part of Louisiana’s) who has always been lovely to me1 in the past posted one of those “don’t lose friends over two politicians who don’t even know your names!” which always pisses me off, because the only people who ever say that don’t want to be judged for being horrible human beings. That is a red flag for me, always–no one who ever truly cared about anyone other than white people would never tell marginalized people to overlook the fact that people think we are subhuman.2 I basically said something similar on her post, basically “tell me you’re okay with racism and homophobia and misogyny” and unfriended her. Then one of her “friends” responded to me with some seriously despicable homophobia. Horrible stuff, on her wall…and she responded to other people after the homophobe came for me, but didn’t say anything to the homophobe, which…she’s perfectly okay with homophobic attacks and language from people she knows…which makes her human fecal sewage.

It shouldn’t bother me at sixty-three, but I don’t need to know anyone who is okay with homophobia. So, local Louisiana author, let me say this to you: you’re a disgusting piece of shit, a Klanwife who is perfectly okay with bigotry and hatred while pretending to not be one of those people, and I should have known you were a homophobe because of the hideously ugly wigs, the trailer trash eyebrows, and the Ross Dress for Less fashions you buy in sizes too small. And I’ve noticed you always slightly smell of urine.

I did post something on Facebook–not that I was angry about it, but I was more disappointed than anything else, not only in her but in myself, and of course I got a lot of sympathy and friends who want to ride at dawn, which is lovely but completely unnecessary because, my friends, most of you have never even heard of this woman. In fact, I met her through people who are my friends, or at least nice to me. I doubt I will ever see her again (see footnote about TWFest), but I will stick to my usual “I don’t even acknowledge trash humans” if we ever are in the same place. And I’m not hurt or upset or anything about it. It’s not the first or last time a Southern white woman I’ve known has turned out to be a Klanwife.3 They’re just better than their men at hiding it in polite company.

It rained all day yesterday and we were in a flood alert, which was lovely. I didn’t leave the house other than taking out the garbage. I spent the day doing my work-at-home duties and some chores. This morning I have an appointment to get my COVID booster and need to pick up a few things here and there around town before coming home for a day of football. Huzzah! I did write some yesterday, but not much, but any progress is progress, and I also started thinking about how to make the book better and more of a challenge to write for me, which is very cool.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up to get my day rolling. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and will most likely not be here again today, most likely. You know how much I love college football! GEAUX TIGERS TOMORROW!

  1. Surprisingly enough, I’ve gotten to the point where I forget writers are nice to me because they want to be a part of the TWFest and for no other reason. Guess who will never be on a panel now? ↩︎
  2. And that’s the language I’m using from now on–because that’s the core of white supremacy; everyone who isn’t white or Christian is subhuman. Tell me you’d happily enslave people without saying the words. ↩︎
  3. There’s also this whole thing where people to excuse conservative women for their horrendous beliefs (similar to sympathies for Melania Trump or Usha Vance, but I will tell you this, from years of experience: conservative women are not controlled by their husbands, and are often much worse than their husbands–which was the real lesson to be taken from Gone with the Wind, frankly. Melanie and Mrs. Merriwether and Mrs. Meade and Mrs. Elsing and all those women would be MAGA today. ↩︎

When the Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes

As I mentioned yesterday–these blog post titles taken from the Supremes discography sometimes feel a bit off as I do some Blatant Self-Promotion about my new soon-to-be-released novel #shedeservedit.

I got my first ignorant comment on one of those blog posts yesterday; someone posted a link to a video about “toxic femininity” and how it’s “as bad if not worse” than “toxic masculinity.” Needless to say, I not only didn’t approve the comment but marked it as spam and blocked the user from commenting/reading my blog. For those of you who are new here–I don’t engage with trolls, not do I permit them the energy or the oxygen of allowing their ignorance to be seen by anyone here. This is my blog and I pay for it; therefore I will curate the content here and if you want to troll me, well, it’s just going to earn you a comment marked as spam and get you blocked, so don’t waste your time or energy on me. You may, of course–I cannot stop you, but I won’t engage with you nor will I allow Constant Reader to see your ignorance, so there you have it.

I wrote yesterday, and it felt good to get another chapter down. I only have two more to go and the revisions, and I have to say, pantsing this thing on a tight deadline hasn’t been the easiest way to write this book, but it’s working. I’ve got the plot all worked out now, who the killer is and why, and now all I have to do is cram the resolution into the last two chapters and we are finished, done, ready to go off to the editor with prayers that she likes what I’ve done and doesn’t require a complete overhaul, which is also entirely possible and within the realm of probability–one of the reasons, frankly, that I’ve not signed. a contract to dive straight away into another book when this one is finished; I thought it best to leave my time free just in case. (I am going to start working on Chlorine and Mississsippi River Mischief while waiting for my edits; there’s always something to write, after all–I can also work on the revisions of the novellas in the meantime as well.)

There’s always something…

Today’s BSP is going to focus on writing about small towns, rather than what I’ve been covering (toxic masculinity). The first book I remember reading about a small town that really stands out to me–as an examination of small town dynamics, rather than merely a setting for the story–was Ellery Queen’s Calamity Town, which was, if you are an Ellery Queen fan, the first Wrightsville story. There were several of these novels–the second, I believe, was The Murderer is a Fox–and I enjoyed them all; Queen clearly loved writing about Wrightsville, since he kept returning to the scene of the crimes, as it were, but the best, the true standout for me, was the first: Calamity Town. This book–published well over a decade before Grace Metalious scandalized the world with Peyton Place–also covers the same territory as Peyton Place: scandal and hypocrisy and the paralyzing power of gossip in small town America. Calamity Town remains a favorite mystery novel of mine to this day; I should reread it. It’s plot is ingenious and entirely rooted in human psychology, and it also contains one of the best and most clever misdirections in crime fiction history. It was Calamity Town that made me first start thinking about how small town society is actually a microcosm of American society as a whole, all encapsulated in a small package, and also that made me realize, for the first time, how claustrophobic small towns can be; where everyone knows everyone and you can’t really do anything without someone knowing; and how secrets kept can become very damaging over time. Queen is, at first, struck by the apple-pie Americana of Wrightville…and then he begins peeling back the layers.

Peyton Place, which I found to be far less scandalous than either General Hospital or All My Children by the time I got a copy at a secondhand bookstore in Emporia when I was seventeen or eighteen, also showed me again how claustrophobic small town life could be. Sure, there’s some bad to the point of laughable writing in the book (“your nipples are hard as diamonds”, anyone?) but other than those brief moments, overall it’s a very well-constructed book and a damning indictment on the hypocrisy of American small towns. I also read Sinclair Lewis’ Main Street around the same time for an American Literature class (I still think we should have read Elmer Gantry instead, or It Can’t Happen Here, but I was not in charge of the syllabus), which is also about the falseness of keeping up appearances and worrying what the neighbors think. I find it interesting that “small town American values” are frequently–particularly by conservatives–pointed out as what is the backbone of our country and so on and so forth (part of the entire “cities are BAD” thing we have had going on culturally for decades, if not centuries), but when that veil is peeled back, there is just as much rot and decay as in any “wicked” city. As I pointed out on Susan Larson’s radio show the other day, the vast majority of the soaps were originally set in very small towns, rather than urban centers.

Nobody does small towns quite like Stephen King, and the first time he really addressed small town life was in ‘salem’s Lot–although it can be argued he did a masterwork on small town life with Needful Things–and it was in his tale of small town Maine being overrun by vampires, he also did an incredible job of painting the town, it’s working class citizens and the minutiae of their lives; how circumstances trapped some of them and killed their dreams–and how others never had any dreams to be killed in the first place. The way he interweaves the lives of his small town characters, their relationships and histories and how everything is interconnected is masterful; has anyone ever done a critical analysis of King’s work with small towns? It also falls into this group; what King does with Derry is just as exceptional as his work on Castle Rock and Jerusalem’s Lot in the other works.

I based Liberty Center on Emporia, Kansas, geographically; my town is loosely laid out the same way Emporia is; there’s a small college there, as in Emporia, and there’s a meat packing plant on one side of town that reeks of death and stale blood on the south side of town, and of course, the waterfall on the river on the way out of town heading south and the park that goes with it. Other than that, it’s memory and invention; I’ve not set foot in Emporia in nearly forty years and have no plans to ever do so again. (Likewise, when I write about my fictionalized county in Alabama–it’s loosely based on where my family is from, but I haven’t been there in thirty years and will most likely never go visit again, so it’s all memory and invention for me.) I don’t know if I will write another novel about Kansas–I have some other ideas, of course, don’t I always–but it seems weird to create another fictional small city so similar to Liberty Center, but at the same time it seems even weirder to set another book there after having already done so (although i should probably revisit Sara sometime and see how I did it–and what I called the towns in Kahola County–before deciding one way or the other).

Heavy sigh.

Today I need to write another chapter, and I also need to work on revising a short story as well as writing a promotional article–and of course, there’s the horror that is my email inbox which needs to be dealt with this week once and for all (it’s all relative; answering everything and emptying it out inevitably means generating more emails there; my email responses will trigger emails in response which turns it into a Sisyphean task without end), and today is the men’s US figure skating championships, which naturally I plan to watch so I need to get my writing done before then, don’t I?

So on that note, I head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader.