Tag: TV Guide

American Pie

Saturday! Woo-hoo!

Yesterday was an odd work-at-home Friday. Our power went in and out a few times during the day, and that threw everything off–laundry, work, plans for the day. But it did gradually and eventually all get finished in the end so Paul and I could spend the evening riveted by Under the Bridge. We only have two episodes left and it’s soooo good, and so delightfully queer-which was a delightful and unexpected surprise. Lily Gladstone continues to own the screen, and I can’t wait to see the final two tonight when Paul gets home from tabling at Pride for Saints and Sinners.

I slept really well last night, which was marvelous. I woke a bit later than I originally had intended, but that’s okay. I want to get some more cleaning done around the house this morning before I take books to the library sale, pick up the mail, and make groceries; then I intend to get some more writing done today. I did some more thinking about it last night before Paul got home, and I think I almost have the voice right. I also did some more research while he was at the gym–nothing like reexamining pop culture and the news during a distant time period (note to self: TV Guide archives must be checked as well), because it brings back memories, which also helps put me in the right mental place to write and create the story. I also kind of know how the story is going to go, and I also came up with another idea for the beginning, which I also really like. (I just had one of those imposter syndrome moments, where my brain suddenly panics and thinks, that isn’t going to work. Sometimes I really hate my brain…

During one of the power outages yesterday I decided to use the time productively and walked to the gym to do rehab exercises. It made sense when I thought about it–I mean, without power or Internet I can’t work, so utilize the time, right?–but after getting damp with sweat walking over there on a “feels like 105” afternoon, sweating more during the rehab exercise, and getting soaked with sweat walking home to a house without power that was getting hotter wasn’t perhaps the wisest choice? The power was still out for about an half hour or so at that time, so I took a very quick shower while the apartment began cooling down again and felt ever so much better. I also don’t feel exhausted or tired this morning, so maybe physically I am beginning to get back my stamina and getting back to normal, which is terrific. I was starting to worry that I was never going to do so, and I am nothing if not incredibly impatient.

I also watched Ode to Billy Joe yesterday (the film is on Youtube for those inclined to watch it again) because I’d been looking into Robby Benson for a Pride post, as he helped me understand that I liked men instead of women–so, so beautiful–and I realized I’d never watched this movie….and the movie, it turns out, is what fleshed the song out to give us a reason why Billy Joe jumped off the bridge; he’d been with a man, and the shame drove him to it because it was such an ugly thing to be that suicide made the most sense as an option. I’d heard the theory that he killed himself for being gay before, but didn’t realize it came from the movie…and the novelization of the script was written by Herman Raucher, who’d also written Summer of ’42, a coming of age novel and movie that were also kind of formative for me. Looking into it, it was released in the summer of 1976. We moved to Kansas that summer and the movie didn’t play locally, and I’d never watched any of its television airings. Anyway, the movie was interesting but there were lots of parts to it that didn’t play well for me today–I am always prickly about the way films have rural Southern people talk–but keep an eye out for my Robby Benson post if you’re interested in him.

I do feel good this morning, which is nice. I’ll go get cleaned up in a bit, but am going to work on either entries or the prologue this morning. I also plan on doing some rereading of my own work today–I am definitely moving Never Kiss a Stranger to the top of the to-write pile, because I am not entirely sure about the y/a I want to turn from novella into novel; I’m not entirely sold on the plot, to be honest. I also want to work on the kitchen this morning, too; I did buy the wrong vacuum cleaner (mine is a rug cleaner; so I can put water and shampoo in it to clean the carpets too, but it does work as a very powerful vacuum, so I’ll go ahead and use it–and maybe next weekend, I’ll clean the Oriental rugs with it.

Yesterday the right, through The Federalist, decided to come for Dolly Parton and basically call her a false prophet and a “danger” to Christianity. The recovering alcoholic who wrote the hit piece, Ericka Andersen, is about what you’d expect: a self-righteous born-again Christian who thinks she knows the faith better than anyone who ever lived or ever will live, which of course is apostasy, but she’s a soulless troll who got the attention she wanted. Andersen’s social media is now completely shut down as she is in the find-out phase of coming for Dolly. Dolly has not only given the world decades of amazing music and entertainment, she is also one of the most generous people alive, using her money and her fame to do good works in the world and is always kind and understanding and sympathetic; the woman literally loves everyone even her harshest critics. If ever there was an example of what it is like to truly follow the Christian path, it’s Dolly Parton–but you know, giving kids free books, donating millions of dollars to charity every year, and her incredible generosity to her employees at Dollywood? Sorry she won’t condemn people you don’t like, cosplay Christian piece of shit. And for the record, Megan McCain is married to the head of the Federalist Society–which is all anyone needs to know about what utter and complete garbage they are.

Seriously, they’ve come for Taylor Swift and now Dolly. Next thing you know they’ll come for Cher–which is something I would love to see them try.

And on THAT note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, and I’ll be back later, okay?

Can’t Go Back

And here we are on Wednesday again.

It’s really amazing to me how sometimes it feels like the weeks just fly past; I think a lot of it has to do with Monday being my work-at-home day instead of Friday. By the time I come into the office what feels like Monday is actually Tuesday, and then Wednesday I wake up stunned that we’re already in the middle of the week. Maybe I should go back to working at home on Fridays instead? It’s definitely a thought. Working at home on Mondays has really kind of fucked with my sense of time and day and date significantly; not having cable television anymore has also messed with that since I no longer really pay much attention to what day of the week any show I am watching actually airs–I just check my “up next” list on the Apple TV every day and see what’s ready to be watched again.

So weird how my television viewing habits have changed so much since the introduction of Netflix, marathons, and binge-watching. I mean, I used to subscribe to TV Guide, which I don’t think even exists anymore, does it? Ch-ch-ch-changes.

I had a restless night’s sleep last night, spending most of the evening waking up every hour or two all night before the alarm finally went off this morning, so I suspect I will spend most of my day fending off the creep of weariness into my body. It’s very dark outside this morning, too. Heavy heaving sigh. I imagine the time doesn’t change until after Halloween–it’s been getting later and later it seems every year–but this getting up in the dark is very unpleasant and not conducive to me waking up. The weather has remained cool in New Orleans this week, too–not humid, mid to high 70’s, windy but sunny at the same time–which has been a very lovely thing.

I also rewrote Chapter Four yesterday; I took the 1677 words from the other day that were absolutely abysmal, picked them apart and pulled them back together, and wound up with slightly over 3000 words on the chapter yesterday, which was a pleasant surprise, particularly taking into consideration how tired I was when I did get home last night, having run some errands after work. Paul didn’t get home until late, and so we caught this week’s Reboot (seriously, this show is hilarious) and one of Little Demon, an animated Netflix show whose premise is the main character is the anti-Christ; her mother had sex with Satan and now the child is 13 and coming into her powers. It’s slightly twisted, obviously, so we clearly are enamored of it; I’m curious to see where it goes in the rest of the season, plus it’s also short–half hour, tops–which helps somewhat since we are always trying to find something to kill a half an hour with before we got to bed every night, and we should probably check out Abbott Elementary at some point.

But it felt good to start writing the book again yesterday; and it actually flowed relatively easily, too–which is always a plus; it means the well hasn’t run dry quite yet and I can still potentially write books. Saturday the LSU game is at the absurdly early hour of eleven, which means I can probably do things after two when the game is over–like run errands or clean or write–or I can spend the day reading with the football games on the television in the background. I need to finish reading my book because i’d like to revisit some horror this month before the month ends. I got my second monkeypox vaccination yesterday, and now to get the fourth booster for COVID at some point as well as a flu shot. I am hoping that continuing to mask this winter will help me get through any year without getting sick–really, what a difference wearing a mask has made these past few years; other than actually having COVID this summer, I’ve not been ill at all since the pandemic started, really.

Which is something I’ve never really understood about anti-masking, really; why wouldn’t you do something simple that would help you not get sick? Not just with COVID but every other germ and virus out there? I’ll show you libtards by spending the winter dealing with colds and the flu! FREEDOM! (Not to mention that even saying “libtard” is offensive to disabled people–I’m not insulted when someone calls me that, frankly, because it says everything about the speaker and nothing about me–because it’s a derivative of the pejorative term “retard,” which we really shouldn’t be saying in 2022 anyway. Ah, yes, the United States in the twenty-first century, when the words liberty and freedom have been so bastardized and robbed of meaning that now it essentially means I can be a complete and total asshole and tell OTHER people how to live!

Heavy heaving sigh. And on that lovely note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader.