James Cameron, the filmmaker behind some of the most commercially successful movies of all time is a fantastically capable director and technician but as a writer I feel he is at best mediocre. An example of this is the character Caledon, Cal, Hockley (Billy Zane) from Cameron’s box office monster Titanic.

20th Century Fox

In the film, in case the plot, beyond the sinking of the vessel, escaped you, Rose (Kate Winslet) is engaged to wed Cal as a desperate maneuver to save her family following the death of her father who left them with crushing debts. This plan is crushed by Rose meeting Jack (Leonardo DiCaprio) with a love that turns out to be as doomed as the ship itself. Cal becomes the villain of the story, desperate to possess Rose, framing Jack for theft and chasing him around the sinking liner in the film’s final act.

At no point in the script does Cal display any trait or act that can even be close to being considered as noble or even fair minded. He is cruel and abusive to Rose, treats her as property, appears wholly uninterested in events that nearly took her life, and when she does leave him for Jack his only real concern and emotional involvement is about the loss of money due to the McGuffin jewel she has unwittingly taken with her.

With Cal depicted this despicably there is absolutely no tension in Rose’s relationship. She faces no serious choice, and it is doubtful that any audience member thought for a moment that she needed to honor her commitment to him. There is nothing, not even the prospect of financial ruin, that could generate any sense that she should do anything but flee from this monster of character, written with such little depth that he is better suited to some poorly animated cartoon where he can have a mustache to twirl. At no point in the entire film is Cal ever right. He proclaims, in blasphemous terms, the ship unsinkable and is of course too dull and stupid to see the emotional power of art. Even with Rose’s financial disaster, one that is purely hypothetical in terms of screentime, it is inconceivable that she would bind herself to this man. There are many rich bachelors in the world, and one does not need to choose an abuser, one who is abusive prior to the wedding, for salvation. Cal’s poorly constructed nature as a character seriously erodes all credibility in the story itself, making it into melodrama instead of drama.

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One of the least fun things in life is waking up with a headache already in progress. Which is, of course, how I started this particular Tuesday in May. Adding to the woe is that this headache is not a severe migraine that would keep me home. No, this is just enough of a pain to make life unfun but not enough to get me out of work. So, I will spend the day in the office, under those terrible fluorescent lights, because I am the only member of my team that remained in the office, staring at my twin monitors for the next 9 hours.

Oh, I have some NSAIDs here at home that I can take and usually work on lesser non-migraine headaches but this week that course is closed off to me. Last week my doctor’s office called because my liver protein test was elevated but only slightly. Perhaps it was a single test result, perhaps it was from pain killers and supplements, or perhaps it’s from the medications I take for my psoriatic arthritis. So, this week it’s cut out the NSAIDs and supplements so I can retest on Saturday, leaving this particular headache free rein to bang on the backside of my eyeballs.

At least my newest novel has now passed 13,000 words and perhaps soon I’ll know where the plot is actually heading.

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The weekend has ended and it’s Monday morning with another work week stretching out before me.

All in all, this past weekend was decent, but I did not manage to do everything I had hoped. Between running my tabletop Role Playing game Saturday night and a writers group meeting Sunday evening I did not find the time to get out and see Sinners a horror film that fascinates me. It is so nice to see movies that are just another episode of a franchise and a horror movie that isn’t just another masked deranged killed slicing up wayward teens.

Sadly, my long COVID cough continues to hamper my life. The game session lasted a mere 90 minutes before the spasms became too intense to allow me to continue. The days of 3 hours runs are clearly in the past.

The writers group was easier to navigate since for the majority of the two hours I can be quiet, eat cough drops, and listen to people read from their selections, minimizing my talking time. I even had enough endurance to read myself, and it was decently received, and I got useful notes back.

I have no Sunday Zoo photos because my replacement camera came with just one battery, and I failed to have it charged. Of course, that mean a few of my favorite subject were more active and or closed to the walls of their enclosures providing photo ops that I had no decent camera to use.

Still, I can’t complain and remain overall happy.

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January of 2024 after nearly four years of dodging the virus I finally contracted COVID. Because I take medication that tunes down my immune system response as a treatment for psoriatic arthritis my doctor proscribed the Paxlovid therapy to keep the COVID from becoming very serious.

That worked wonders. My run with this disease, which killed a good friend of mine nearly four years earlier, was quite mild, hardly more than an intense cold.

After the disease ran its course however I discovered I have a fast new friend, a persistent cough. At first, I simply waited for the damaged tissue in the airways to recover and the cough to leave me.

That did not happen.

The tissues recovered but the cough persisted. Treatment after treatment was tried and none managed to dispel the cough from my system. I didn’t cough all the time, most of the time it simply wasn’t there, but prolonged talking, like running a tabletop game, always brought it out. Eventually I learned to just live with and try to avoid irritations that provoked such spasms.

Last month while researching at the City Library I discovered that strong aftershaves and perfumes provoked an intense irritation. After the three hours in the presence of those scents I wound up coughing for 12 hours.

Yesterday I got another lesson in airborne irritants. Heating my lunch in our tiny breakroom a new employee to the building came in with a modestly strong perfume. My exposure lasted only six or seven minutes but something in this scent proved terribly adapt at irritating my airway.

Soon I was coughing nearly uncontrollably and after nearly two hours threw in the towel and went home. The air at home is free of all perfumes and after another six and a half hours I finally felt my airways open up again.

This is long COVID, a persistent effect from my infection but I know people who suffer it far more intensely than myself. Brain fogs that make thinking difficult, exhaustion that make everyday activities nearly impossible. While this cough is troublesome and curtails some aspects of my life, I know that all in all it could have been far far worse.

This weekend presented very little that was outstanding but a lot that was quite nice.

Saturday in addition, to our routine early morning walk around the condo complex with my sweetie-wife and a neighbor, my sweetie-wife joined me in walking around the neighborhoods of Kensington and Normal Heights as I took photos to help inspire my next novel.

These neighborhoods were two that I have been familiar with since the early 80s and lived in for a few years in the 1990s. The point of the photos is to help with atmosphere as I write and jog memories from decades earlier about what has changed since the time of Reagan. I also discovered, with my sweetie-wife’s help, that the location I thought had been a fabric store throughout the 80s only became one in 1988 and in ’84, when my book will be set, it was a punk rock music venue.

In the evening, I ran my tabletop role-playing game of Space Opera. Sadly, a coughing spasm reduced the running time to just about 90 minutes. The ‘long covid’ I acquired is far less debilitating than what many people suffer, and I’m glad for that, but it is annoying as hell.

Sunday morning was a trip to the San Diego Zoo, another opportunity to break in my new camera. (It’s not brand new; it is a used DSLR, but at a great price and in great condition, replacing my former camera that began killing lenses.)

While the controls are a little different and a few shots came out a little underexposed, overall things went swimmingly.

Robert Mitchell Evans

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Luigi Mangione, the man accused of murdering a health care executive, will face a federal death penalty if the DOJ and Pam Bondi get their way, and I admit that doesn’t sit right with me.

Now, it is not that I am ideologically opposed to capital punishment. That debate is far more complex than the space here would allow me to elaborate on but in closely defined cases I think it is warranted.

Nor is it that I think the troubles and evils of the for-profit health care system in any wayjustify that murder, Our  for-profit health care system trades lives for cash and that is fucking repulsive but Mangione’s actions, if guilty, saved not a single life. I understand the rage that propelled such action, but understanding and condoning are very different things.

I can see and even condone the use of the death penalty for calculated premeditated acts of murder for political purposes.

What I know for a fact is that this Department of Justice, this vacuous-headed Attorney General, and this administration has zero interest in fair, dispassionate, and unbiased justice. Luigi Mangione is facing the death penalty not from any sense of justice or cool logical conclusion but because this is the sort of crime that has deep personal meaning to the corrupt people of this administration. While conversely, they liberated the criminals that they see as allies and fellow travelers. The violent terrorists that attempted to overthrow a free election received pardons, allies under investigation find those investigations dropped.

This is the fascist heart of the Trump administration.

For my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law.

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We have hit the busiest portion of our annual work at the day-job and last month I worked more overtime days and non-overtime days. However, this week I am scaling back for health reasons.

For the last three days running I have had on each day some level of migraine headache with Saturday evening and Sunday morning being the most intense pain days. Sadly, that forced me to cancel my role-playing game on Saturday night and my zoo trip on Sunday morning.

That said, I have been able to get to work and contribute to the massive backlog created by people who waited to the very last minute to submit their enrollments.

I have also been able to continue work on my folk/cosmic horror novel and have now passed 75,000 words with perhaps 10 or 12 thousand left to completing the 1st draft. Then the revisions begin, and this will take a lot more than any other novel I have written. While life is easier with an outline, I am glad I have written this one by the seat of my pants if for no other reason than to experience that process.

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The crunch time at my day-job has begun and with it the loads of overtime hours that are extended to the workforce. Luckily this is not retail or some construction type work, I work in an office, listening to podcasts while processing endless reams of paperwork helping people get the non-profit health insurance plans that they seek. So, while it is not physically taxing, but it saps energy and takes time.

This means the early morning time I usually employ for writing this blog will vanish most days and with it the posts. Mondays are different I tend not to work overtime on those days, so I am going to attempt to maintain at least a weekly schedule.

Good news is that lunches remain productive for my novel writing and with 60,000 words down and 30,000 or so to go I still look to complete the 1st draft of my next horror novel before the end of the year.

The election results here in the USA are concerning. If the president elect does as he has threatened, then in all likelihood terrible times are ahead. Perhaps he will be satisfied with merely looting the treasury and a civil war among his staff will limit damage, but it is not an outcome I would wager on. There is naught to do but fight in every legal way possible and preserve strength for the upcoming battles. World War II was not settled when the Allied force fled from Dunkirk, it looked dark, but in the end the fascist were defeated. Last week was a battle, not the war.