Two Weeks Turned Into Over Two Months

Well, I definitely wasn't expecting to take so much time away, but life has a way of knocking you for a loop—both good and bad—when you least expect it.

Let me give you a little backstory about why my eye strain was, and still is to a degree, so bad.

Back in 2023, I started the year off the way I usually did back then: by hiking on New Year's Day. I was finishing one of the loops at Buffalo Track Canyon Nature Trail when I came across a huge sheet of ice. Now, if I'd been smart, I would have turned around and found another route. But being stubborn, I decided to try skirting around the edge.

Huge mistake.

The moment I stepped onto the ice, my feet shot out from under me. Because I was wearing a small hiking backpack, all of my weight landed squarely on my lower back. You can tell from the picture below that I hit hard enough to crack the ice, and it took everything I had to keep more than my foot from sliding into the water.

I made it home and, for about a week, I was sore but otherwise okay. Then, one morning while bending over to turn on the shower, I heard a loud pop and was immediately in excruciating pain.

Within a few weeks, simply walking became difficult. But I still had to work, so I dug deep and kept going, taking baby steps even when all I wanted to do was sit down and cry.

For nearly three months, my doctor insisted it was just a muscle strain and that I'd get over it. Meanwhile, my mobility kept getting worse and the pain kept increasing. Eventually he ordered an MRI, which showed that the disc between L5 and S1 was completely pinching the two nerves exiting on my left side.

He referred me to pain management, and ever since, 1,600 mg of gabapentin has been my lifesaver, along with the occasional SI joint or epidural injection. I won't get into the early side effects of gabapentin—that's a story for another day.

Then, just as we started talking about surgery that fall, life threw me another curveball.

At 47, I had a heart attack caused by a 95% blockage in my right coronary artery.

Thankfully, I made it through with no permanent damage, but that immediately put any plans for back surgery on hold.

I won't go into what the blood thinner did to me over the following year because that's not really the point of this story. My eye issues are. But everything that came before is relevant—I promise.

Over the next several months, I started itching constantly without any visible rash. Within a year, I was literally digging furrows into my forearms and thighs from scratching so much. It appears everything my body went through in 2023 sent my immune system into overdrive, and I developed atopic dermatitis, better known as eczema.

Last year I started seeing a dermatologist, who put me on Dupixent, a biologic injection every two weeks.

And wow, did it work.

Within the first month, I was almost completely itch-free. It honestly felt amazing.

For a few months, I was finally enjoying life again.

Then my eyes started becoming a little less happy.

They became sore, constantly bloodshot, and just never felt right. After reading that Dupixent could cause eye inflammation, I scheduled an appointment with my dermatologist.

The morning of that appointment, I woke up with my left eye completely red and a pupil that wouldn't dilate.

My dermatologist's office happened to be on the first floor of a building with an ophthalmologist on the second floor, so I went upstairs hoping I could make an appointment.

Fortunately, they squeezed me in.

The ophthalmologist started me on a strong steroid eye drop, and when I returned three days later, she confirmed I had developed iritis.

That was the end of my Dupixent journey.

Over the next six months, I bounced on and off steroid drops and medications to control my eye pressure, but my eyes have never really been the same. They're much drier now, tire out quickly, and eye strain can take weeks to settle down once it flares up.

I'm trying to rest them more, but that's easier said than done when I manage a dental office and spend most of my day staring at computer screens.

I'm learning to adjust and build healthier habits...I'm just not very good at sticking to routines.

Which brings us to today.

Stopping Dupixent wasn't a problem at first. It took several months for the itching to gradually return, and until about two months ago it was manageable.

Then the hives started.

I've never dealt with hives before, but over the last month they've made my life miserable. They'd cover large sections of my body or appear in multiple places at once. They usually disappeared within a few hours, only to pop up somewhere else moments later. My skin would become hot, itchy, and if I scratched what looked like perfectly normal skin, within minutes I'd have raised welts.

I'm currently on day two of oral prednisone, and thankfully it seems to have almost completely stopped the hives. I'm also taking three cetirizine tablets a day, and I'm hoping that by the time I finish this two-week course of steroids, the antihistamines will have built up enough in my system to keep the worst of it from coming back.

Now I just have to figure out what my next step will be for controlling the eczema.

So that's been my last couple of months.

All of that has been happening while I was also promoted and moved into a brand-new dental office that has had more than its fair share of growing pains. And that's not even mentioning my fuel pump failing, followed just a couple of weeks later by my brakes deciding they no longer wanted to be part of the team.

Needless to say...life's been busy.

I haven't been reading much besides romance novels—mostly paranormal, urban fantasy, and mystery romances—most of which I probably won't review. I've watched a lot of TV, binged a few shows I'll eventually write about, and caught up on more movies than I care to admit.

But I am back, even if I'm easing into things.

Missed y'all.

Two Week Hiatus

 I’ve been dealing with eye strain and general tiredness for a few months now, which is part of the reason my posting has slowed down a bit lately.

So I’m taking a two-week break from screens. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid them at work, but outside of that I’m putting the tablet down completely. No social media, no games, no email, nothing that tempts me to pick it up.

Because of that, I won’t be doing any blogging during those two weeks.

I’ll see y’all in a couple of weeks.

What I'm Currently Reading

 

A Plague on Both Your Houses by Susanna Gregory is a historical mystery set in 1348 Cambridge, at the start of the Black Death. I’ve been trying to remember what put this book on my radar, as it’s not something I would normally pick up, but I am enjoying it so far.

Toddler Hunting and Other Stories by Taeko Kono is a collection of short stories she wrote between 1961 and 1971. I picked this up because a character in another book I was reading was reading it. Don’t ask me which book, because I truly don’t remember. I’m enjoying it, but I do feel like I’m missing something by not being able to read it in the original Japanese.

The God of the Woods by Liz Moore is one I’m still reading, as I’m deliberately taking my time with it because I want to relish every moment.

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen is the other one I’m taking my time with — mostly because every time I pick it up, I read a page or two, lose interest, and put it right back down. Maybe I’ll finish it by December.

What I'm Currently Reading

 

The God of the Woods by Liz Moore — A friend of mine sent this to me when it was first released, and while I’m just now getting started, I’m enjoying it so far.

Trust: America’s Best Chance by Pete Buttigieg — With the steady rise of misinformation bombarding us from all directions, this felt like the right moment to revisit it.

The Mage and His Brute by Ava Salinger — A gay Regency romance/mystery series with an intricate magic system. I'm turning to this when everything else feels too heavy.

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen — This was one of the selections for the “12 Books from 12 Friends” challenge on Facebook. As much as I want to enjoy it, I’m struggling.

The 100 Best Comedy Movies of All Time, According to Variety

 

Variety came out with their list of the 100 best comedy movies of all time, and I'm going to state up front that while I agree with a lot of it, there are some glaring omissions. I'll even admit I haven't seen everything—maybe not even most of what's on the list—but I still think they missed the mark. Before I get to what I think is missing, or comment on what I think is a terrible pick, let me show you what they chose. I'll highlight the ones I've seen in red. 

1. The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! (1988)

2. Some Like it Hot (1959)

3. Annie Hall (1977)

4. The Great Dictator (1940)

5. Waiting for Guffman (1996)

6. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

7. Duck Soup (1933)

8. Fargo (1996)

9. Young Frankenstein (1974)

10. Groundhog Day (1993)

11. Sherlock Jr. (1924)

12. Tootsie (1982)

13. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

14. Sideways (2004)

15. Playtime (1967)

16. His Girl Friday (1940)

17. The Heartbreak Kid (1974)

18. This is Spinal Tap (1984)

19. It Happened One Night (1934)

20. Superbad (2007)

21. The Bank Dick (1940)

22. Caddyshack (1980)

23. Trouble in Paradise (1932)

24. Bridesmaids (2011)

25. M*A*S*H (1970)

26. Borat! Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan (2006)

27. The Philadelphia Story (1940)

28. Richard Pryor: Live in Concert (1979)

29. When Harry Met Sally (1989)

30. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)

31. Pink Flamingos (1972)

32. Sullivan's Travels (1941)

33. Lost in America (1985)

34. Withnail and I (1987)

35. School of Rock (2003)

36. Ed Wood (1994)

37. The Princess Bride (1987)

38. The Nutty Proffesor (1963)

39. Clueless (1995)

40. Zoolander (2001)

41. A Hard Day's Night (1964)

42. Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994)

43. Team America: World Police (2004)

44. Mrs. Doubtfire (1993)

45. Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

46. Coming to America (1988)

47. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

48. Bringing up Baby (1938)

49. Shampoo (1975)

50. The Waterboy (1998)

51. Being John Malkovich (1999)

52. The Tall Blond Man With One Black Shoe (1972)

53. Broadcast News (1987)

54. Elf (2003)

55. Safety Last! (1923)

56. The Odd Couple (1968)

57. My Best Friend's Wedding (1997)

58. House Party (1990)

59. Pillow Talk (1959)

60. Big (1988)

61. The Birdcage (1996)

62. Airplane! (1980)

63. Going Places (1974)

64. A Fish Called Wanda (1988)

65. Poor Things (2023)

66. Eddie Murphy Raw (1987)

67. Hellzapoppin' (1941)

68. In the Loop (2009)

69. Ace Ventura: Pet Detective (1994)

70. Legally Blonde (2001)

71. Miracle at Morgan's Creek (1944)

72. The Big Lebowski (1998)

73. Napoleon Dynamite (2004)

74. Private Benjamin (1980)

75. Shaun of the Dead (2004)

76. Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005)

77. Blazing Saddles (1974)

78. A Night at the Opera (1935)

79. The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

80. Bamboozled (2000)

81. The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

82. The Awful Truth (1937)

83. Wet Hot American Summer (2001)

84. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988)

85. To Be or Not to Be (1942)

86. Idiocracy (2006)

87. Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

88. Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy (2004)

89. Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982)

90. Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969)

91. She Done Him Wrong (1933)

92. The Jerk (1979)

93. Hairspray (1988)

94. Clerks (1994)

95. Brazil (1985)

96. I'm Gonna Git You Sucka (1988)

97. Born Yesterday (1950)

98. Pretty Woman (1990)

99. Wayne's World (1992)

100. Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)

I’ve been trying to decide where I want to start my commentary on this list, and I think I’ll start with what I love about it.

My sense of humor is definitely on the darker side—so much so that I laughed out loud when the guy slid down the deck and pinged off the propeller blade in Titanic (1997). So it was great to see Fargo in the top ten. It’s one of my favorite movies of all time and a terrific example of dark comedy at its best. I do think there was room for some others, though: Nurse Betty (2000), Very Bad Things (1998), Serial Mom (1994), Dogma (1999), Go (1999), Heathers (1988), American Psycho (2000), Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995), Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead (1991), Knives Out (2019), and Game Night (2018) are all strong contenders that I love. There are actually two others, but they’ll come up later.

I loved seeing horror-comedy make the list with Shaun of the Dead, since it’s my second-favorite subgenre after dark comedy. And while I’ve never seen that particular movie, I’m not sure it’s the best example of the genre at its best. I’d put forth Jennifer’s Body (2009), Ready or Not (2019), Trick ’r Treat (2007), Happy Death Day (2017), Krampus (2015), House (1985), Gremlins (1985), Little Shop of Horrors (1986), The Wolf of Snow Hollow (2020), Ghostbusters (1984), Fright Night (1985), and The ’Burbs (1989) as either substitutions or additions.

I loved seeing Cary Grant all over the list, especially with His Girl Friday, which is my absolute favorite romantic comedy of all time. The chemistry between him and Rosalind Russell is off the charts. But I was really surprised that Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) wasn’t one of his selected movies. Three of my favorites were also skipped over: Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948), Houseboat (1958), and My Favorite Wife (1940).

I have to admit, given I haven’t seen a lot of these movies, that this isn’t a bad list overall—I’m just 1000% sure it’s not a list I would ever put together. So here are my proposals to fix it.

The inclusion of a Christmas movie would normally be something I’d celebrate, but I really don’t like Will Ferrell, so seeing Elf—when there are far better choices—felt like a stab in the back. These are the movies I’d propose instead: Christmas in Connecticut (1945), The Ref (1994), Christmas with the Kranks (2004), or The Holiday (2006). And while I may not necessarily like the next three movies, I’m still surprised they were passed over for Elf: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989), A Christmas Story (1983), and Home Alone (1990).

This may be wildly unpopular, but I’m not a fan of Jim Carrey, Vince Vaughn (as a comedic actor), Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler, Mike Myers, or the aforementioned Will Ferrell, so I’d like to see all of their movies off this list. I’d replace them with any combination of the following: Lucille Ball in The Long, Long Trailer (1953); Lily Tomlin in Big Business (1988) and 9 to 5 (1980); Michael J. Fox in The Secret of My Success (1987); Diane Keaton in Baby Boom (1987); Melanie Griffith in Working Girl (1988); Mary Gross in Feds (1988); Jeremy Renner in Tag (2018); Goldie Hawn in Overboard (1987); and Elisabeth Shue in Adventures in Babysitting (1987).

Speaking of movies I’d like to get rid of, I’m annoyed that there are so many films on this list where cisgender male characters dress as women for laughs, deception, or both. Instead, I’d like to replace two of them with The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994) and To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995). And speaking of bad stereotypes played for laughs, I’d replace The Birdcage with any of the following: Edge of Seventeen (1998), In & Out (1997), But I’m a Cheerleader (1999), Jeffrey (1995), Trick (1999), or Red, White & Royal Blue (2023).

While I may not like every movie I’m about to list, I’m still flabbergasted that not a single John Hughes movie—directed or written by him—is included. The Breakfast Club (1985), Pretty in Pink (1986), Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986), Uncle Buck (1989), Sixteen Candles (1984), Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987), The Great Outdoors (1988), She’s Having a Baby (1988), Mr. Mom (1983), and Weird Science (1985) are all missing in action. It’s shocking and needs to be corrected. 

Before I list the movies whose absence feels like pieces of my soul are missing, I wanted to mention a few others I was surprised not to see, even if they aren’t favorites of mine: Beetlejuice (1988), 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Friday (1995), Beverly Hills Cop (1984), Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961), and Grumpy Old Men (1993).

Now we’re down to the four movies left off this list that not only shocked me but left me judging every single person who put it together.

Auntie Mame (1958) is just about my favorite movie of all time. Rosalind Russell is so damn funny here, as is the entire cast. I first watched this in high school on A&E, when those two letters actually stood for something, and it’s been my favorite movie ever since. I would do anything to have an Auntie Mame in my life.

Speaking of Rosalind Russell, she’s comedy gold in The Women (1939), which has an all-female cast including Joan Crawford and Norma Shearer. I watch it at least once a year and will probably be doing so for decades to come.

How Death Becomes Her (1992) was passed over is beyond me. Goldie Hawn, Meryl Streep, and Bruce Willis act the hell out of these roles, delivering some delightful one-liners.

That leaves the biggest snub, in my opinion: Clue (1985). This movie shouldn’t just be on the list—it should be number one. I wouldn’t be surprised if flames appeared on many faces after not seeing this movie listed. The cast is full of comedy legends who know how to deliver a line. Rejecting them like this should be illegal.

What do y’all think of the list? What do you think shouldn’t be on it, and what do you think got brutally snubbed? No matter what, whether the movies are on the list or among the ones I mentioned, I hope you decide to give a few you’ve never seen a watch—and maybe even revisit an old favorite you haven’t thought of in a while. Happy watching!

Favorite Fictional Character --- Sweet Pickles

 

 I’m in a pickle. I’ve been wanting to highlight one of the denizens of Sweet Pickles for years now, but I could never decide which one to single out. As a kid, I loved all of them, even Nasty Nightingale. Trying to choose between Clever Camel or Yakety Yak gave me such a headache that I kept putting it off. And now, sixteen years after starting this feature, I’m still stuck.

Because my indecisiveness could give Questioning Quail a run for her money, I’ve decided to just pick all twenty-six of the anthropomorphic animals who live and play in the charming little town of Sweet Pickles.

Yes, I’m absolutely aging myself with this pick—and that’s fine, because these characters deserve it. If you’re not familiar, Sweet Pickles was a series of thirty picture books that used twenty-six animals, from A to Z, to help an entire generation of Gen X kids make sense of our personalities and emotions.

When I was little, I was especially drawn to Bashful Bear and Doubtful Dog. I’ll let you guess why, though I doubt you’d be wrong. I saw myself in them and felt everything they went through. What made these books special, beyond the irresistible idea of a town full of talking animals, was the gentle way they taught us to be self-aware. Each story showed how our quirks and flaws could get in our way, like when Bashful Bear was too shy to ask someone to be his friend. There were lessons about problem-solving, sure, but mostly they helped us see ourselves a little more clearly.

Before I wrap this up, I have to mention Loving Lion and Moody Moose, because I adored them too. And then there’s Unique Unicorn, Healthy Hippo, Fearless Fish… See my problem? I can’t choose just one.

So instead, consider this a quasi–love letter to all the residents of Sweet Pickles; the sweet, silly, and surprisingly insightful crew who helped shape an entire generation of kids.

Now if only I could find a complete set that doesn’t cost nearly $200. Wish me luck.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar

 

As a young Gen X lad, I grew up with a lot of TV shows and movies that debuted years—if not decades—before I was ever born. I’d wager I’m not alone in that; most of my generation probably grew up watching the same shows I did: Perry Mason, Gilligan’s Island, The Big Valley, Bewitched, Batman, and The Addams Family, just to name a few. Syndication and reruns were king when I was growing up. In this regard, I actually feel a little bad for the generations that came after us, because they don’t really know what came before them. But I digress—that’s a discussion for another time.

Today’s Favorite Fictional Character doesn’t come from a TV show but from one of the many live-action movies Disney made in the 1960s. For the record, I think the 1950s through the 1960s were when Disney did their best live-action work. I’m not knocking what came after (though all these live-action remakes really aren’t my thing), but there’s just something about the movies they made in that era that sets them apart. Maybe it’s pure nostalgia since they’re what I was raised on, but I stand by it.

Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar came out in 1967, while I wasn’t born until 1976. I’m almost positive I didn’t see it until sometime in the early 1980s—but don’t quote me on that. What I can say, with absolute certainty, is that I loved it from the very first moment the orphaned cougar cub, who would eventually be named Charlie, appeared on screen. For 75 minutes, I watched as this cub was raised by a logger named Jesse. As Charlie grows into a young adult (in feline years), all kinds of hijinks ensue—he wrecks a kitchen or two, makes mortal “enemies” with one of the logging camp’s dogs, takes a ride on a few logs, and eventually gets lost and ends up on his own for an entire summer. He faces danger, finds love, and grows up just enough that it’s no longer safe for him and Jesse to stay together. Charlie eventually finds a home on a nature preserve where he can live his life without hunters—or annoying dogs.

I was obsessed with cougars/mountain lions after watching this movie, and I remember wanting one sooooo badly. I’m pretty sure I was extra annoying in all my begging for my very own Charlie. I don’t know if my underdeveloped psyche connected with him because we both lost a parent, or if it was simply because I thought he was beautiful and funny—especially when he was destroying the kitchen. Whatever the reason, I fell in love.

I don’t know if I should admit this or not, but I do have a Charlie of my own who almost never leaves my bed. A friend got him for me about ten years ago, and I absolutely adore him. And if you want to meet Charlie for yourself, he's on Amazon Prime and a few other streamers as a rental. 

Yes, Daddy by Jonathon Parks-Ramage

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

Jonah Keller moves to New York City with dreams of becoming a successful playwright, but for the time being he lives in a rundown sublet in Bushwick, working extra hours at a restaurant only to barely make rent. When he stumbles upon a photo of Richard Shriver—the glamorous Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright and quite possibly the stepping-stone to the fame he craves—Jonah orchestrates their meeting. The two begin a hungry, passionate affair. 

When summer arrives, Richard invites his young lover for a spell at his sprawling estate in the Hamptons. A tall iron fence surrounds the compound where Richard and a few of his close artist friends entertain, have lavish dinners, and—Jonah can't help but notice—employ a waitstaff of young, attractive gay men, many of whom sport ugly bruises. Soon, Jonah is cast out of Richard's good graces and a sinister underlay begins to emerge. As a series of transgressions lead inexorably to a violent climax, Jonah hurtles toward a decisive revenge that will shape the rest of his life. 

This was not an easy book for me to read, nor is it going to be an easy review to write. Before I start sharing my thoughts on Yes, Daddy by Jonathan Parks-Ramage, I want to lead off with some of my own background to give you an idea of why this book was such a hard one to get through — though I’m so damn glad I did. I’m saying all this because I’m going to talk about subjects that aren’t always easy to read or listen to, so I want to give you an out before continuing. I’ll just be hitting the highlights of my past as they pertain to this book, but there will be no graphic descriptions. If you want to skip that part and go straight to my thoughts on the book, feel free to start after the first three paragraphs.

When I was in Head Start, I had a babysitter who molested me and some of the other kids in her care. The rest of my childhood went like this: a woman tried to get me into her car; a man followed me into a public restroom and tried to get me to open the stall door; an old man I’d just met started rubbing my shoulders and back; a couple who befriended me kept talking about taking me to California to “make a lot of money”; and a boy my age kept trying to pull down my pants for months because he thought I was stuffing them. All of that happened before high school.

As an adult, I lived through two rapes — both by the same man, a few years apart. Later, an ex-boyfriend began dating my rapist and called me a liar when I told him why their relationship hurt me so much. I’ve had my drink spiked twice. I’ve had my butt and crotch grabbed more times than I can count — by both men and far too many women. I’ve been made to feel like all I was worth was what was between my legs. I’ve been given nicknames that referred only to my anatomy, and because I’m a man, I was expected to be flattered by it. I laughed along and let it happen, all while my self-esteem sank lower and lower. I’ve been stalked, choked, and hit. I’ve pretended it didn’t matter — that the harm didn’t last — but it did.

I tell people I’ve been single and celibate for almost two decades now by choice, and for the most part, that’s true. Mostly, it’s because I haven’t put myself out there or met anyone who made me want to change that. But the truth is, I also don’t fully trust myself to make the right decisions when it comes to men. I’ve accepted things I never should have, all because I needed to feel like I was worth something.

I knew going into Yes, Daddy that it would be a difficult read — that it would stir memories and emotions I’ve mostly dealt with but will never completely escape. I don’t remember how I first heard about it, but I do remember reading reviews and realizing that, painful or not, I needed to read this book. I won’t say it was a transformative or cathartic experience, but it did help me process some of the lingering guilt I still carry.

I don't think it's possible to put into words how this book made me feel. I had to put it down for days at a time before I was emotionally ready to pick it back up. The fact that a book so beautifully written can capture such horrific trauma, guilt, and survival is beyond me. The author’s command of language is a true pleasure to experience, and I hope he continues to write.

Jonah, like too many of us, grew up in a world that devalues his life simply because he’s a gay man. He was raised to believe that who he is makes him an abomination, that he has no value to society — and though he survived his childhood, the emotional scars remain. Unfortunately, those scars leave him vulnerable to manipulation by a man who knows exactly how to push the right buttons to trap him in a situation with no easy escape.

Because of the way Jonah sees himself, he falls for Richard’s charm, words, and gifts. He believes the promises, even when they’re never kept. He ignores the warning signs because he wants to believe this older, powerful man truly cares for him. When you’re starved for affection and validation, you’ll do whatever it takes to maintain the illusion — even when it’s falling apart.

I’m not going to go into what Jonah endures; right now, I don’t have the mental strength to put myself back in those pages. Instead, I want to focus on Jonah’s strength — the way he ultimately finds the courage to break free from his abusers. It’s not easy; it’s messy and painful. But he gets out. And by the end of the book, there’s the beginning of something like peace, thanks in large part to finally receiving the love and acceptance of his father — a need that, I think, drove many of his earlier choices.

Jonah, even at his lowest, is a character I absolutely love and relate to in ways I’ve never experienced with another character. I admire him deeply for seizing back his power and beginning to build a healthier life. He’s not perfect — none of us are — but pointing out his flaws here would feel too much like victim-blaming, which I find abhorrent, especially having experienced it myself. 

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to read this book again, but it’s one that will remain on my shelves for the rest of my life. It’s a story that demanded to be read, and I’m glad I listened. This book means more to me than I can ever truly express. I think anyone who has lived through abuse will find something in Jonah’s journey that resonates — something that might help them feel seen, or a little less alone. While this is a story told through a gay lens, and there are dynamics unique to our community, I don’t think you need to be a gay man to connect with Jonah’s pain or his strength. Yes, Daddy is a book for anyone willing to sit with the rawness of survival and the possibility of healing.

Favorite Fictional Character --- Michael Emerson

 

I’m not even going to pretend I picked Michael Emerson from The Lost Boys for any reason other than the fact that I had a massive crush on him during my adolescent years. I’m actually a little tongue-tied as I’m typing this because, while I’m not embarrassed to admit it, I feel like I should at least try to come up with one profound reason why I think he’s so damn dreamy.

Sorry—hot.

Holy hell, that’s not right either. What I meant to say is that I’m picking him for the way he’s always there for his brother, and for how he stepped up to help his newly single mom. Or maybe because he’s fearless when protecting his family from a nest of rampaging vampires. Actually, that just makes him even more attractive. So, I guess what I’m really saying is that I picked him because at one point in my life, I wanted to jump his bones.

Look at those eyes and tell me you wouldn’t get lost in them. Tell me you wouldn’t want him gazing into your eyes as you tell him about your day—really listening, not pretending. You wouldn’t want to run your fingers through his hair as he rests his head in your lap while you binge your favorite show, just because he knows that’s what would make you happiest in that moment?

I double dog dare you to even try to deny it. 

There’s no way you wouldn’t want to fall asleep next to him, knowing he’d keep you safe from any vampire trying to stake their claim.

I’m 49 now — no longer that kid with hearts and fangs in his eyes. But if Michael showed up on his motorcycle, looking at me like that, I won’t be responsible for my behavior.

10 Candies I’d Snag If Adults Could Trick-or-Treat

 

I think it’s ridiculously unfair that adults aren’t allowed to go trick-or-treating. We work all day, pay bills, go to doctor’s appointments, put gas in the car, and try to make responsible decisions. If there’s any group of people who deserve to let their hair down and just enjoy a night of spooky frolicking, it’s us.

I want to dress up as the Lone Ranger, Sam, or even Eeyore, then walk the streets ringing doorbells and collecting all the free candy I can carry.

So, since society frowns on grown-ups trick-or-treating (for reasons I still don’t understand), I’ll just live vicariously through this list instead.

With that said, here are ten candies I’d want more than anything else on Halloween night.

I love the classic KitKats and wouldn’t be mad if that’s all I got, but nothing beats the flavors coming out of Japan. My favorite is the milk tea, though I’d happily gobble up the wasabi just as fast.

Take 5 has to be my current favorite candy bar and has been since it first debuted. This delicious concoction is packed with pretzels, chocolate, peanut butter, caramel, and peanuts. The only thing missing is potato chips.

Butterfingers are just about the perfect candy bar, and I absolutely loved them as a kid. Bart Simpson may be an annoying character, but he’s right about this one. I don’t even care when it gets stuck in my teeth.

You can keep your Almond Joys. I’ve always thought the nut throws the texture off—it’s like putting rocks in marshmallows. All you need is chocolate and coconut. So I’ll trade you my Almond Joys for your Mounds.

Did you know that if you bite into the right cookie, it looks different than when you bite into the left one? I thought I was seeing things when I first noticed it, but then I looked it up and discovered they do it on purpose. All that really matters, though, is that Twix is so freaking good.

Junior Mints are so versatile. I put them on my mint chocolate chip ice cream, and I’ve also been known to toss them into popcorn, mixed nuts, or even Greek yogurt with sugar-free chocolate pudding mix. Naturally, they’re just as good all by themselves.

Snickers weren’t a candy bar I enjoyed as a kid, but now I like them a lot. I think it helps that once they started making the ice cream bars, I couldn’t get enough of them.

Heath is another candy bar that wasn’t on my childhood radar. As an adult, whenever I’m craving Christmas crack but feeling too lazy to make it, I’ll just head to the store and grab a bar or two.

Nestlé Crunch is perfection in a little blue wrapper. How anyone doesn’t thoroughly enjoy that snap when you break a bar in half—or get all giddy inside when that crisped rice hits your tongue—is beyond me. It’s just that fun to eat.

We finish this list with a childhood classic: the Dum Dums. I mentioned in a list I did about my favorite Halloween candy in fifth grade that the root beer Dum Dums were my favorite—and they still are—but I’m also a sucker for butterscotch. So if you happen to get any root beer or butterscotch–flavored Dum Dums this year, I’ll gladly take them off your hands.

Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

When Quinn and her father move to a tiny town with a weird clown for a mascot, they're looking for a fresh start. But ever since the town's only factory shut down, Kettle Springs has been cracked in half.

Most of the town believes that the kids are to blame. After all, the juniors and seniors at Kettle Springs High are the ones who threw the party where Arthur Hill's daughter died. They're the ones who set the abandoned factory on fire and who spend all their time posting pranks on YouTube. They have no respect and no idea what it means to work hard.

For the kids, it's the other way around And now Kettle Springs is caught in a constant battle between old and new, tradition and progress. It's a fight that looks like it will destroy the town. Until one homicidal clown with a porkpie hat and a red nose decides to end it for good.

Because if your opponents all die, you win the debate by default.

I’ve only been to Albuquerque, New Mexico once in my life—and that was more than enough. I don’t remember the exact year, but it was sometime around seventh or eighth grade, back when my family was traveling with a carnival. I hated that stop from the moment we pulled in. Within a day, my left eye had swollen shut, and I was forced to wear an eye patch. Spoiler alert: it’s not nearly as fun as pirates make it look.

The third night we were there, after the midway had shut down, my younger brother and I got hungry and decided to walk three blocks to what I think was a Whataburger. We were passing what looked like a car lot when a dog rushed the fence. We bolted across the street—and that’s when I saw what was in the window of the building we’d just reached. I immediately turned around and ran right back across. I’d rather take my chances with a guard dog than face a creepy-ass mechanical clown moving in a store window in the middle of the night.

I don’t like clowns. I never have. They’re wrong in a way that gets under your skin. There’s something about those painted faces—those fixed smiles—that hides whatever’s really underneath. Look at John Wayne Gacy. That’s reason enough. I hate them so much that a friend once bought me a shirt that said, Can’t sleep. Clowns will eat me. They thought it was funny. I thought it was prophetic. 

Once, at a Hometown Buffet, a clown came in to make balloon animals. I left mid-meal, plate still full. I wasn’t about to sit there while that greasepainted demon floated toward my table. Clowns are my boogeyman.

Now, I do better when the clowns are fictional—on a page or a screen. Since they’re not physically in my space, I can manage. In a perverse way, I even enjoy testing the limits of what I can handle when it comes to dealing with them. Naturally, since I don’t have to look at them, I prefer reading about those murderous fiends from hell. Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare is chock-full of them.

I won’t go into too many details because I don’t want to spoil the blood-soaked fun, but I will say this: the body count is massive—at least 33 people die, many by crossbow. The book is bloody without being gory, something I’m eternally thankful for. I love horror, but I’ve never been a fan of gore for gore’s sake. The humor is dark (which is probably why I loved it so much), and the queer representation is surprisingly good—without falling into the “bury your gays” trope that annoys the hell out of me.

It’s a lot of fun for a teen slasher novel. The author clearly loves the genre and plays with its tropes in a way that feels fresh instead of tired. I had an absolute blast reading it, and while the movie version was enjoyable, I—unsurprisingly—prefer the book. Now I just need to read the sequels.

And just in case you were wondering, the reason my eye swelled shut in Albuquerque was because of mountain cedar, which is everywhere there. I didn’t find that out until much later, when I had an allergy scratch test done where I now live—far from New Mexico. Apparently, the winds blow the pollen all the way here, which is why they test for it. That little test spot swelled to the size of a fifty-cent piece and stayed that way for a week. So yeah—Albuquerque will be a city I never visit again.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

 

Synopsis From Rotten Tomatoes:

When King Richard the Lionheart is captured, his scheming brother Prince John (Claude Rains) plots to reach the throne, to the outrage of Sir Robin of Locksley (Errol Flynn), the bandit king of Sherwood Forest. Rounding up his band of men and eventually winning the support of the lovely Maid Marian (Olivia de Havilland), Robin accuses Prince John of treachery and, when the escaped Richard returns covertly to England, joins forces with the king to prevent Prince John from taking the crown.

I’m almost positive that everyone knows the story of Robin Hood. He’s one of those characters who has permeated pop culture and can safely be called a cultural icon. Because of that, I’m not going to do a deep dive into the story. What I want to do instead is explain how this movie makes me feel. I want to, in my own feeble way, capture how this film spoke to my soul from the moment Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood appeared on screen.

I honestly couldn’t tell you how old I was (fairly young still), where in the house or apartment I was (probably the living room, but who knows), or even which state we were living in the first time I saw this movie. That last one I can probably narrow down to Minnesota, Oregon, Washington, or California. We moved and traveled a lot while I was growing up. We lived with a biker gang in Spokane, with a Tongan family in California before becoming homeless, and eventually with a carnival that moved every two weeks, only settling down during the winter months. We did that for three years, right up until I started high school.

We moved too much for me to make friends. Actually, I need to amend that: we moved too much for me to learn how to make friends. For most of my childhood, I struggled to form true connections with kids my own age because I was never around long enough. That constant moving pushed me toward books and movies for companionship. In their own way, they socialized me more than any other childhood influence I had.

I’m telling you all of this to explain why I had such an “oversized” reaction to this movie. I do remember lying on the floor—my favorite viewing spot for years—and becoming completely enraptured. There was something magnetic about Errol Flynn. Maybe it was his smirk that made his eyes light up with mischief, or his larger-than-life personality that made his 6’2” frame feel ten feet tall. Whatever it was, he had me hooked.

If you’d asked me my favorite part back then, I would have said the sword fights. Don’t get me wrong: the epic duel with Sir Guy of Gisborne (played by the equally mesmerizing Basil Rathbone) still amazes me. As the battle moves down the stairs, I still get goosebumps. That scene is perfectly executed—from the camera angles to the lighting. It’s a brilliant piece of filmmaking.

As a teenager, and into my college years, I would have told you it was Robin’s relationship with Maid Marian that captured me most. Around that time, I started to develop an unrealistic expectation of love. I believed the movies when they told us there was one person out there who was your true match. That you’d meet, fall in love, and stay together forever. That no obstacle could beat the power of love. I wanted what Robin and Marian had, and their chemistry was palpable. I figured if they could survive Prince John, I’d have no problem finding my own great love and everything would fall into place.

At 49 years old, I can’t even begin to guess how many times I’ve seen this movie. Definitely double digits. The awe I felt the first time hasn’t faded; if anything, it’s grown. Now I can appreciate the artistry as much as the action. Back then, my focus was mostly on Flynn’s legs and the swashbuckling, but I see now how every aspect of the film is perfectly crafted. It’s easy to understand why it was added to the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress in 1955.

If you’ve never seen this movie, please do. If it’s been a while, consider a rewatch—and then come back and tell me what you think.

As a side note: I’ve reread everything I just wrote, and I’m not sure I’ve fully expressed how much I love this movie or what it means to me. But at some point, I just need to stop typing and let it stand. I hope I’ve managed even a little of what I set out to do. Either way, I hope you give it a chance.

The Bell in the Fog by Lev AC Rosen

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

San Francisco, 1952. Detective Evander “Andy” Mills has started a new life for himself as a private detective―but his business hasn’t exactly taken off. It turns out that word spreads fast when you have a bad reputation, and no one in the queer community trusts him enough to ask an ex-cop for help.

When James, an old flame from the war who had mysteriously disappeared, arrives in his offices above the Ruby, Andy wants to kick him out. But the job seems to be a simple case of blackmail, and Andy’s debts are piling up. He agrees to investigate, despite everything it stirs up.

The case will take him back to the shadowy, closeted world of the Navy, and then out into the gay bars of the city, where the past rises up to meet him, like the swell of the ocean under a warship. Missing people, violent strangers, and scandalous photos that could destroy lives are a whirlpool around him, and Andy better make sense of it all before someone pulls him under for good.

I knew I was gay from a pretty young age, and from the start I knew it was something I needed to keep to myself. Carrying that secret weighed heavily on me, and by the time I was twelve, I was already wrestling with thoughts of suicide. For almost two years, I prayed every night that if my being gay was wrong—if God truly hated me—I would not wake up the next morning. I wasn’t exaggerating; I meant every word of it.

By the time I started high school, I began to accept myself more. I still wasn’t fully out until college. But I had finally found a balance within myself. I’m not saying the way society views me, or other external factors, doesn’t make my life as a gay man harder—because they do. But what we face today is nothing compared to what our community’s forefathers endured in the 1950s.

It’s in that kind of hostile environment that Andy is trying to navigate a path toward self-acceptance—to finally live life on his own terms, not those imposed by a society determined to crush him for who he loves. In the first book, Lavender House, Andy discovers a safe haven created by a found family. Through Elise, a member of that household who owns Ruby—the most popular queer bar in San Francisco—he begins to find people he can call his own. She encourages him to set up a PI business upstairs. But as a formerly closeted ex-cop from a police force infamous for bar raids, he walks into a room full of wary glances and whispered judgments.

Andy begins developing a romantic relationship with Gene, the head bartender, who was expelled from medical school because of his sexuality. Elise has become something like an older sister, and he may have found his first true friend in Lee, a drag performer who becomes his girl friday. For the first time, Andy is building a family of his own.

That fragile sense of belonging is put in danger when Andy is drawn into a case that threatens everyone he’s beginning to love. He’s forced to make choices to protect them and defend his growing sense of self-worth. Some decisions come easily, others less so, but he makes the right choice every time—even when he admits that a few years earlier, he wouldn’t have.

What I love about this series is that the author not only crafts mysteries so grounded in their time and place that Agatha Christie herself might be proud, but he also never sacrifices character development for plot. Both are perfectly balanced, tightly controlled, and rooted in postwar 1950s San Francisco—a city that, to borrow a cliché, becomes another character in the story.

Andy, Elise, Gene, and Lee have completely won me over—and I can’t get enough of this author’s storytelling. I need this series to never end.

R.I.P., Cugina

 

I haven't been doing any blogging, or really any blog reading for the last several weeks, because I've found myself either escaping into work, or movies. I haven't wanted to do a lot of anything, for several reasons. One of those is that I lost the person I was closest to in my family. Tara was born one day, and one year after I was. We were the first and second grandchildren on our mutual side of our families, and I loved her so damn much. 

I knew Tara was the one person who would always have my back, no matter what. She had her struggles, but she always rose above them. She was truly one of the strongest people I've ever known. I'm going to miss her so damn much. 

I have a lot of guilt in my soul for how little I talked to her as she was fighting her last battle with cancer. I hate that I allowed myself to be distracted as much as I was. I loathe that I wasn't able to see her before she passed. I'll get to say goodbye next month at her memorial service in WY. But, it's not enough for me. I will forever regret that I didn't get to say goodbye in person. 

Love you, Cugina. 

Leaving My Reading Comfort Zone

 

I've been pondering this whole notion of comfort zones when it comes to reading, though I think we could apply this to any sort of media that we choose to consume. At first, I didn't even want to admit that I have them. I felt embarrassed by the idea. 

After I thought about it some more, I started to look at my reading patterns. In reality you could call what I've done over the last few years as being in holding patterns. If I wanted to aim some judgement at myself, I'd even go as far as calling them ruts. What I started to question is whether or not I would equate those patterns/ruts as comfort zones. And I can admit that while both my more recent "ruts", Golden Age mysteries and M/M romance, give me comfort, I don't think they qualify as actual comfort zones, at least not in the way I choosing to interpret the whole concept. 

Oddly, it's actually my romance reading that even has me pondering this whole esoteric concept. In my romance reading, I tend to get sucked into series, more than I do standalone novels. Though I read quite a bit of those too. What I've found myself doing in certain series is the issue at hand. Anytime a book has featured a relationship that is either M/M/F, M/F, or F/F, I've skipped over those books. At first I wanted to just shrug it off to not wanting to read sex scenes that involve women, despite the fact that I skim through most sex scenes anyway. Then I decided I have to see M/F relationships all over the place in every other form of media, that I don't need to read romances about it. That really didn't explain my skipping over the other two types of relationships though. That sort of left me with no other explanation than they make me uncomfortable, so I needed to figure out why. And while some of it is the sex scenes and the fact I have heterosexuality shoved in my face on a regular basis, I had to admit something I'm not all that proud of. It's partly because as a gay man, I don't understand those types of relationships. It's the same reason I've tended to skip over M/M romance that has a transman as part of the couple. Since I don't understand how they work, I chose to not read about them. I chose to not invest my time in something I didn't understand, nor cared to.  

After I realized that, I had to take a hard look at myself. I began to wonder what other books, or even movies, I was ignoring because I didn't care/wonder about the perspective and story being told. What books were I ignoring because I don't understand the culture, religion, ethnic background, sexuality, disability, or world view that was at the heart of the story being told? That isn't something I can easily answer. All I can do is try to be more aware in my choices, and do my damndest to broaden my exposure. It's time to start pushing beyond my comfort zones, and maybe someday eliminate them altogether.

For the record, I'm now reading a F/F romance novel that is the fourth in a series I absolutely love. 

I Have Something to Tell You by Chasten Buttigieg

 

If you even remotely paid attention to me on Facebook, you would know who my favorite candidate was during the Democratic primaries. Going into them, I actually had three favorites: Buttigieg, Castro, and Harris.  They were the three individuals that I had been paying attention to for years, and will always hold a lot of admiration for. In the beginning, the three of them were pretty much grouped together, with no real order of preference. For that matter, I would have been in heaven had anyone found a way to set up triumvirate government, with the three of them sharing power. 

As the primaries slogged on, Pete started to edge ahead of the other two. And by the time he dropped out, he was my first choice. I won't go into the policy issues that pushed me his way, though I could list quite a few, this just isn't the place to do that. Stylistically, he was also the one I was able to connect to the most.  Again, since this isn't the real point of this post, I'll skip over that as well.  Which leaves us with the deeply personal connection I felt to him and his campaign, and his husband, Chasten, had a lot to do with that.  

As a gay man, who struggled with acceptance as a kid, seeing an out man have a real chance at the White House, was something I never thought I would see in my lifetime.  Seeing my lived experience as a gay man, in someone who could easily be President of the Untied States, was nothing short of life affirming.  Getting to know him, as well as you can through the media and his own book, was something I would have loved to experience when I was younger.  The visibility and example he lives, gives our youth a glimpse of what it means when we say, It Gets Better.

The truly joyful part of Pete's campaign, was getting to see and "know" his husband, Chasten. If you have ever followed Chasten on social media, how he comes across there, is the same way he comes across in his memoir. His intelligence, loving heart, and wit are on full display. He doesn't pull punches, but he wraps them in both understanding and humility. He owns up to the mistakes he made, and seems to be someone who truly knows who he is. He comes across as humble, but with the understanding that he and his husband represent a sense of hopefulness for the future in terms of LGBTQ+ acceptance in a country that doesn't always feel welcoming, and oftentimes dangerous. 

When I first saw their Time magazine cover, with the words First Family, I cried. If I had seen that as a kid, it would have been everything to me, like seeing Norm on the first season of The Real World or watching the 1993 LGB March on Washington. I hope this book  an be that touchstone for some of today's youth, just looking to know they aren't alone.