Tag: Victoria A. Brownworth

I’ll Be Around

Tuesday! How you doing, everyone? I’m feeling better every day. I was a little lower energy than I would have liked over the weekend, but it’s a process, isn’t it? I’m also sleeping very well, despite the return of the heat and the humidity and their combined assault on my sinuses. It’s frightening that it’s still relatively early June and it’s this hot already. Going outside yesterday was absolutely miserable. I stopped on the way home to make groceries, and was sweating lugging the bags in from the car. Sigh. Today I need to swing by the post office on the way home, too.

Yesterday was a pretty good day overall. I woke up feeling pretty good, and managed to make it through the day feeling good (other than when I was lugging the groceries in). I now weigh 198, back up from those frighteningly low weights from the illness, and I am also not as hungry all the time as I used to be, or thinking about food constantly? I think my body recognizes what weight I should be–around 200–and was thus convincing me to want to eat more to get back to that weight. I’d like to stay here, honestly; I think this is a good weight for me, and if I can maintain it as I get stronger and keep healing…maybe when I am able to get back into the gym and start working out regularly again, I can get myself into decent shape again. It won’t be easy and it will take longer than it ever did before, because I’m older and my body has been traumatized a lot in the last few years, but I have to remember the patience I am learning with this recovery.

I actually did some more writing yesterday, too–I know, right?–and it went rather well. I am trying to push myself to get a short story written for a submission call that closes soon–there are two others I want to get to by the end of the month, we’ll see how that goes, won’t we? The problem, of course, is short stories don’t pay much so the financial incentive isn’t really there to motivate me, and since it’s an open call no one will care if I don’t finish the stories and turn them in to see what happens with them. But I do want to publish more short stories, and there are so many I have on hand that need to be worked on and revised and rewritten and/or finished. I have so many that I wrote for a submission call that I never turned in–or finished, so I have a lot of story fragments that need to be finished. There are a couple of calls that I have something on hand already that may work, but needs to be revised and/or finished. And I do want to submit to the conference anthologies; nothing ventured, nothing gained. I didn’t write anything for the New Orleans Bouchercon anthology this year, because I am still kind of bitter about not being allowed to submit to the Minneapolis one in case people wouldn’t think I cheated to get my story in, if I did get in–as if I would ever do such a fucking thing; I really don’t like having my integrity challenged and insulted like that, and yes, I do take that kind of shit personally. How is being told people would think I’d cheat to publish a short story not impugning my character and insulting who I am as a professional?

I’d rather not publish something, rather than do so by cheating the system.

And to me, the people who’d accuse me of such a thing are the kind of people who would do exactly that. That isn’t how my mind works. I guess I had better parents than y’all. I don’t know, I guess having integrity is something no one cares about anymore? Well, I do care about it, and if that makes me old-fashioned, I can live with it. I am old, after all.

I’ve really been missing my friend Victoria Brownworth these past few weeks, as the country continues to circle the drain as our democracy slips through our fingers, aided and abetted by the pathetic pieces of collaborationist quisling shit known as the today’s legacy media. Her emails and reporting would have been lit. She was one of the few journalists whose reporting I trusted, and now she is gone. This is why I no longer subscribe to any newspapers on-line and why I do not watch CNN or MSNBC–and why I will never watch anything with that pretentious fuck George Clooney in it ever again. I wasn’t a fan of the asshole to begin with, but occasionally he might make a film over the years where he actually had to do something besides play himself and mug for the camera that I might have been interested in seeing–but no more. The irony that after that bullshit editorial he wrote for the New York Slimes last summer that he was nominated for a Tony for playing Edward R, Murrow was almost perfect; Murrow was a true journalist while Clooney played a role in the downfall of the country.

They are not the same.

Clooney, you’re not fit to lick the shit out of Murrow’s asshole, and you’ll never be anything other than a craven piece of shit who did his best to throw the election to Trump, before escaping to your villa in Italy with your wife. The Reign of Terror, for the record, eventually urned on everyone. I hope you have your day in front of the tribunals.

But after getting my chores done and some writing, Paul and I watched another episode of The Survivors, and I am thinking I may need to add Jane Harper to my list of authors to check out. The show is quite excellent, and cinematically shot in a very stunningly beautiful location, and the way everyone’s lives are knitted together and knotted by misery and tragedy is quite extraordinary. It’s a terrific show, really.

I didn’t get much chance to read last night, alas and alack. But that’s okay; there’s only so much time in a day and I refuse to berate myself or get down on myself about not getting enough stuff done every day anymore. Life will try to knock me down enough on its own without me creating more anxiety and stress for myself, and I don’t ever want to be back in that horrible place I was in, emotionally, before the illness reboot. I am feeling good about my life and both careers (day job and writing), and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

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

Screenshot

Delicate

Saturday in the Lost Apartment and all is well. I slept incredibly well last night, and feel energized and rested this morning. I am up at six again this morning, thanks to my alarm cat, but I don’t mind in the least. I have some chores I left for this morning to do; and I want to spend the day reading, doing chores, and relaxing…and maybe, just maybe, writing some more. #Madness, right?

Yesterday I was up before six–so much for sleeping in, but my body clock was clearly reset during my illness and I am now a morning person for the first time in my life–so I did some chores and even some writing (!!!) before it was time for me to start Remote work for the day. When I finished with work, I ran some errands–had to have bloodwork done again, made groceries, picked up the mail and a prescription–and relaxed a bit before going to dinner with a very dear friend. I didn’t get many chores done around the house other than laundry and a load of dishes; but I even wrote more on that short story that’s proving to be harder to write than I thought it would be. There are several short story calls I have bookmarked that I would like to try to write something for. Yes, I am feeling a bit more ambitious, and am also thinking a lot more clearly. There’s still fog in my brain sometimes, and there are times when my attention span is all over the place, but I also feel like when I am clear-headed, I am thinking a lot more practically, confidently, ambitiously, and pragmatically, which is the best mental space to be in to reflect on yourself, where you are in your life, and what you want this inevitable third act of your life to be like. I am making plans again…and while life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into plans at the worst possible time with the plans having to be completely discarded entirely sometimes and replanned all over again, but it helps me feel like I have some control over my life and my career and everything that goes along with that.

And I do like feeling like I have some control over my life, you know?

I need to get back to writing, but I am being patient and letting my brain and my body dictate what I do every day. There are days when my job takes all my energy and all my brainpower. So be it, you need to rest when you get home–if you’re not too tired to focus you can read, and of course, there’s always something to watch on television. (I am itching to finish bingeing The Better Sister, for example.)

I had dinner with a dear friend of several decades standing last night at a delightful restaurant on Magazine Street that we go to whenever we dine together, Lilette. I even had a solitary cocktail, the Lilette Rouge, which was delicious, and I do recommend the Kobe burger with cheese; it’s mouth-watering good. The conversation was wonderful, and I kept thinking to myself all evening about how lucky I am. I do have the most amazing friends–smart and talented and witty and fun to be around. I am tired of drama and want no part of that anymore–sort yourself out, thanks, but I won’t be a part of that process. Even the three friends that I lost recently; my God, they were Dorothy Allison and Felice Picano and Victoria A. Brownworth–queer writing icons. It’s so very easy to get down about my life, especially when I’m not feeling well (I was so morose when I was so sick and in the hospital; it was why I wasn’t really responding to anyone or posting–so much maudlin self-pity about how everything sucked!!!), but the truth is I’ve had quite a marvelous second act, which made the horrors of the first act so worth experiencing and living through. Every dream I had as that lonely terrified gay kid with no friends that was bullied and shamed daily, has come true for me. No one can ever take away the writing I’ve published, the awards I was short-listed for, or anything I’ve ever accomplished in my publishing career. I got my first by-line in 1996, in Minneapolis, and from there I built a haphazard, all over the map, hard to define career that has given me endless amounts of satisfaction, pride, and joy for the last almost thirty years (yes, in January of next year I will mark my thirtieth year as a published writer! It’s been an interesting journey).

And yet my first college creative writing professor told me I would never publish anything, ever.

But yes, dinner was lovely. I should make plans and do things with people more often–when I’ve gotten my strength back. I’ve increasingly isolated myself since the pandemic; I think I went into hermit mode during the shutdown and never really emerged from it. I also had dehydration sickness that first summer of COVID, before vaccinations; and somehow managed to stave off COVID itself until the summer of 2022, and I’m still not sure I ever completely recovered from that before the next thing, which was my arm injury, the ten month wait for the surgery. And then Mom died, and I had the oral surgeries before the arm surgery, and then I was in rehab/PT for the arm, trying to recover from that trauma, and I think I just burnt out from everything, because I was also still writing on top of all of that. In a way, this sickness and physical/mental collapse was necessary, for me to get some rest and recuperate and stop focusing on being miserable all the time because I’m not and have no reason to be, and remember to keep seeing things as challenges to best rather than something else I need to do.

See what having dinner with a beloved friend who is just a radiant flame of positive energy can do for me? It’s wonderful to have friends who make you feel like you can do anything, and I actually have a lot of those in my life.

Like I said, I need to keep reminding myself to focus on how fucking lucky I am and what a truly lovely life I lead. I get to write, you know? I love writing. I love creating and making new characters and inventing places and coming up with the inevitable story from who those characters actually are and behave is my favorite thing to do, and I also love to challenge myself when I am writing. This little story I am working on–for which there is no market that I am aware of–is really about faith, and how far someone who considers herself devout will step outside of that when presented with a horrible situation; but I have to make sure that, morally challenged as she may be, why she makes the choices she does. It’s been slow going so far, but if I pull it off, “The Witch Bottle” will be a good story. See? This is what I love. I commented the other day that I seem to be having better luck writing the blog and the newsletter rather than fiction lately, but I’m having some very good ideas, and I do think my next revision of Hurricane Season Hustle will turn it into quite a fine piece of work.

I really can’t wait to get back to writing fiction again.

Damn. I am so fucking lucky.

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

A marvelous panel I was on (see? Lucky!) at Minneapolis Bouchercon the morning after the airline lost my suitcase. Attica Locke, Karen Dionne, me in the back, Edwin Hill, David Heska Wanbli Weiden and Nancy Johnson. My imposter syndrome was off the charts that day!

So It Goes…

Tuesday and back to the daily grind of up early and back to the office. It’s a short work week, after all, and the weekend will be here before I know it, right? I feel good and rested and centered, which was what I really needed from this long weekend, and that’s a good thing. We’re also supposed to have stormy weather all week, which is kind of fun; I’ve been wanting some rain and thunderstorms, so I can curl up under a blanket and read. I managed to get the kitchen cleaned and organized, and made some progress on the living room, which I’ll gladly take. There’s some laundry to finish and dishes to do and put away that I left for today (I was really sleepy last night and went to bed early), but that’s okay. I have to run some quick errands after work–mail, library, and of course I have to stop at the grocery store because the primary reason I made groceries yesterday? Was the one thing I forgot to get. Typical Gregalicious. I forgot my list, of course.

And moisturizing has been amazing. I’m no longer ashy, and I love how my skin feels. I may never stop! I am also getting stronger, slowly but surely, every day, which is also kind of nice, you know? The stairs are still a challenge, but getting to be less of one every time I go upstairs.

This weekend also gave me the time to think and reflect about my life.

I’ve been really lucky in my life, you know?

As I wrote my remembrances of my friends Felice and Victoria this weekend, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that I knew, and was close to, two of the most important queer voices of the last fifty years, and that I was able to learn from them. I know so many amazingly talented people, and can call some of them friends–the kind of life I dreamed of having all those years ago when I was miserable closeted teen in that hellhole known as small town Kansas–that I wish sometimes I could go back and tell that sad unhappy child that his dreams would, indeed, someday all come true for him.

I finished reading Christa Faust’s fantastic The Get Off yesterday morning (you can read my thoughts on it here) and started reading Laura Lippman’s Murder Takes a Vacation–what a lucky reader am I, right? Yesterday was a pretty good day, overall. I rested, did some cleaning, and of course did a lot of reading (I also read some more into Moonraker), which was really nice. I also tried a quick and easy chicken and dumplings recipe I found on-line (knowing it wasn’t going to be as good as Mom’s, and I really need to find her recipe) for dinner. It turned out pretty good, actually, and as always, I followed the recipe the first time to see how it was, and am thinking already of ways to improve it and make it my own. There was no milk or flour in it, for example–the dumplings were quartered biscuits from a roll can–so that could also make a difference, but who knew boiled and simmered biscuits could be so damned tasty? I was also kind of pleased with myself for trying something new, too–it’s been a hot minute–and now that I seem to be settling into a new, post illness phase of my life, I want to do more of that.

I wrote three newsletters this weekend, didn’t I? One per day. I am actually finding that I enjoy writing the newsletters, because I can take my time and think about them, putting a little more thought and effort into them than I do the blog, which I just dash off every morning over my coffee.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Happy Tuesday!

El Castillo at Chichén Itzá. I visited here in 1993 and was blown away by the Mayan ruins.

End Game

Ah, Monday of Memorial Day and all is well in the Lost Apartment. I finished cleaning up the kitchen yesterday, which was amazing to walk down into this morning, and I swear I will never allow it to get that bad ever again–do it every weekend, Gregalicious, and it will get easier as it goes. I am trying to keep up with my chores throughout the week rather than pushing them to the weekend–always a recipe for disaster–and if I can keep up, life will be better and I can get other, deeper cleaning that needs to be done taken care of.

Yesterday I started getting creative again. I got up early, around six–don’t ask me why, it’s apparently a thing for me now, which is great since that’s when I have to get up for work–and had breakfast, wrote my blog and a newsletter about Victoria’s death (which reminded me I’d never eulogized Felice Picano, so I started working on that), and then read The Get Off for a while (it’s so excellent) and also more of Moonraker. I worked on the kitchen and get it taken care of–just some minor touches for my workspace tomorrow, and then I can slowly get the living room into order as well. I gathered everything I need to have handy when working on the Scotty book (the older volumes with post-its stuck throughout the pages, and yes, they are color-coded; the notebook with everything written thus far in its most recent draft; the cast list; and my thick folder of notes and research, most of which won’t be used); I should have done this months ago. I started writing the prologue, with a very short homage to Valley of the Dolls, and even started putting the tarot reading together. Not bad for a rest day where I also got the kitchen floors under control and barbecued, don’t you think? After dinner, we watched Fountain of Youth on Apple–John Krasinski and Natalie Portman and a treasure hunt, which was just a little too silly to be enjoyable–and the season finale of The Last of Us. This morning, I have to do the dishes and run the dishwasher, and then start picking up the living room while I swill coffee and listen to Taylor Swift while also taking reading breaks. I also started reading something new for non-fiction, Old Man River: The Mississippi River in North American History by Paul Schneider, which I am already loving. As you can see, my creative ADHD is exploding off the charts again so I am going to need to start writing more than just the blog and the newsletter soon, else I’ll explode.

I’m also up before seven today, with a good night’s sleep behind me and facing the last day of this holiday weekend. I do have to make a little groceries today; so I am going to try to do some things around here before I head over there. Dishes and the living room, mostly, as well as some self-care and reading. I feel pretty good this morning, only slightly physically weak, and I actually made it all the way upstairs last night without having to stop and rest on the way up. I’m eating more and more every day–and trust me, after worrying about gaining weight for 2/3rds of my life, it’s nice to eat whatever I want whenever I want without fear or self-loathing about it.

And it’s a short work week, which will be nice. I don’t think we’re booked heavily in the clinic this week, but I am pretty much caught up on everything at the office so the week should be a fairly simple and easy one to ease back into the regular routine. I’ve gotten up early every day of this holiday weekend, so getting up early to go to work isn’t going to be an issue tomorrow morning. Huzzah!

And I’m enjoying my morning coffee again. I don’t drink nearly as much as I used to before the illness, because I get shaky and jittery, but at least it is tasting good to me again. Normality seems to be slowly returning to one Gregalicious, but it is slowly happening, and I am very relieved on that score. I am also feeling ambitious again, which hasn’t happened in a long time, and I feel pretty good about that as well.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Those books aren’t going to read themselves, nor are those dishes going to wash themselves (self-cleaning dishes would be amazing), and Sparky is acting like he wants my desk chair or my lap or both, so I may as well repair to the easy chair. Have a lovely Memorial Day, and remember to toast those we lost in service to our country.

You know, the suckers and losers.

What can I say? I was hungry!

ABC

Saturday in the Lost Apartment, and a three day weekend, at that. Memorial Day weekend has some rough memories for me–this was the weekend of Paul’s attack and the loss of his eye–but it’s been over twenty years now at this point and that seems like that all happened to other people at this point, unless I dig too deeply into my memory banks. So, I just don’t dive too deeply into those memory banks and I am fine. But alas and alack, the Memorial Day curse has struck again; one of my oldest and dearest friends in the world, Victoria A. Brownworth, died and I found out yesterday evening. I am bereft and bereaved; I can’t believe I’m never going to get another email or phone call from her. Hell, I still haven’t written about Felice Picano’s death and what he meant to me yet, and now I have to do Victoria too? We were friends for nearly three decades; Victoria was one of the few people left who knew me when I was unpublished.

The worst part of getting old is losing people.

Dorothy, Felice, Victoria. What a horrible stretch of time since the election. So many early supporters of me and my career, now gone forever.

I think I need to wrap Jean Redmann in bubble wrap and protect her at all costs.

Yesterday was a decent day before I found out about Victoria. I did my work at home duties, ran an errand, and did some cleaning and organizing around here. I also ate a lot, more than I usually do, and was even snacking throughout the evening. We watched Fear Street: Prom Queen, which was sillier than scary, frankly, and then moved on to Overcompensating, which is cute and relatable and kind of funny; I’m sure it will get even funnier and relatable as the main character keeps burrowing deeper into the college closet. I also spent some time reading the three books I am currently reading: The Silver Ring Mystery by Helen Wells, The Get Off by Christa Faust, and Moonraker by Ian Fleming. I am going to do some straightening up around here, and definitely get the kitchen floor taken care of, but today I am mostly going to chill out and relax and read some more and get rest so my body can get past the trauma of this illness. (My blood work came back good; the specialist’s office called me yesterday to let me know that we’re all systems go for the treatment plan for after the steroid taper off–and I’ll be glad to be done with the steroids; I do not like the sudden anger and aggression they trigger.)

And maybe this weekend I can get back to writing. The blog has been helping, and I need to do a newsletter, but am not sure which one to finish. The one about Christianity needs a lot of work, as does the one about the Lost Cause Mythology. But maybe there’s something else in there in draft form I can finish up in the meantime? I have a lot of drafts….as always with everything, you know? SO many ideas, so little time…and I do need to rest.

We’ll see.

Have a lovely Saturday, everyone, and I’ll check in with you again, possibly later today–one never knows.