Tag Archives: author

Ah Yes, It’s a Dog’s Life For Me

As a boy and a young man, I always owned a loyal canine. I guess through the years of losing four-legged friends and not wanting the responsibility of taking care of another living creature, I decided no more after my last pooch passed. I was still fond of the noble creature but found that fondness drifting to being fond of what I coined “OPD’s” or other people’s dogs. It’s kind of like the grandchildren of the canine world. You pet them for a while then back to their owners they go.

I’m the opposite of my personal assistant, and yes, I need an assistant because of this guy in a white lab coat who jabbed me in the back with a needle  I could’a spit an olive pit through, then shoved me into a tube two sizes too small that commenced to sounding like someone was pounding on a pipe with sledge hammers, cinder blocks and jack hammers. Then he had the nerve to tell me I had multiple sclerosis. This made my fingers hopping mad, so they went on strike… but I digress.

My assistant owns four dogs. Each one visits their veterinarian more than most children visit their pediatricians. They eat special food and have luxury accommodations for napping. These animals are considered special-needs, four-legged children. One has colitis and the other is a diabetic. She’s still typing, but giving me the “stink eye,” so nuff said.

I remember as a child our dogs would receive no more medical treatment than a rabies vaccination and live a long healthy life well into their teens.

It’s a good example of “the more things change, the more they stay changed.” Not to be confused with “the more they stay the same.”

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Be it Old or be it New, Everything Starts With an Upside That Eventually Turns Woefully Obsolete

I’m looking at my HP processor, ergonomic keyboard and wireless mouse. This takes me back to the first computer I purchased. In fact, I still own that magical scientific appliance today. This PC was none other than a Packard Bell with just over 570 MB of storage capacity. This marvelous machine held a massive 8 MB of RAM expandable to an unbelievable 16 MB. The futuristic remote storage system (known as a floppy disk) allowed the user to store and transport 1.44 MB at will.

What more could you possibly want? You could give this PC a command and have time to pull a drink from the refrigerator and be back to your seat before the command was fulfilled. To keep the fact that I was working to be a writer away from prying eyes, I used this computer, being as it was stored in a remote part of the house. I didn’t have WORD on this computer, so I wrote in Note Pad. The real trick to operating this piece of retro gold, was trying to transfer media from a floppy disk to a CPU that used USB ports and flash drives for storage.

You know, all in all, I don’t guess it was so bad. If I think back to the days of H.G. Wells, I can’t imagine typing on an actual typewriter and doing edits and re-writes on such an archaic device. I’m sure I complained back in the day, when the Packard Bell was the computer to end all computers, simply because of the lack of processing speed, but then again, isn’t everything relative?   

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Squirt, Sniff, Blow, Wipe . . . Repeat . . . Squirt, Sniff, Blow, Wipe . . . Repeat

I posted a blog not too long ago about the return of spring. I wrote this aforementioned blog remembering the many springs I had experienced throughout my years on this planet. One of the mainstays in the previous article was the effect of pollen wiggling its way into the human condition.

Now that the green-dust-that-covers-all is back, I am able to record it live instead of write about it from memory. I hear fellow human-beings say, “Oh, look at the beautiful flowers. The dogwoods are beginning to bloom. I just love the apple blossoms.”

I’m glad you’re enjoying the beautiful floral show. I’d enjoy it along with you if my itchy eyes weren’t dumping juice by the quart. And, why stop there? My snot locker is so full that the mucus doesn’t know which way to go. Half of it runs out of my nose and the other half down my throat. This allows me to enjoy it later, coughing it up in the form of phlegm balls. Spring is a beautiful time of year, as are all of God’s seasons, but alas, the beauty is lost on me as my senses during the months of April, May and June are clogged, dull, runny or stuffed. Just wait til summer hits, with its 98° temperatures and 98% humidity . . .yeah, I know, whine, whine, whine, whine. Well, somebody’s got to do it; so it might just as well be me.

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Some Things You Can’t Even Find in Lost and Found

I’m a pretty average guy but have managed to do a lot of different things. My passion is writing and I’ve published four novels with numbers 5 and 6 in the works. I’ve traveled the United States and seen some amazing sights. I have dined on some weird stuff and enjoyed most of it. I’ve played lead guitar in rock bands from classy hotels to dumps that didn’t deserve a title that prestigious. If there ever was a soulmate, I married mine. I built a log cabin and cut my own timber frame. I know it’s not a grandiose excitement filled life, but it’s been a lot of fun. The one thing I can’t wrap my head around is a statement I’ve heard for years, “I’m going to find myself.”

It seems to me, that one glance in the mirror, along with a twenty-four hour period alone, that you’d know all about yourself that there is to know especially since you’ve been bouncing around in this body for years up to this point. What it boils down to is if you haven’t found yourself by now, either you’re not worth looking for or you need to enlist some help in your search . . . just sayin.

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Books Can be Wonderful, Despicable, Life-Changing, and in Some Cases Down Right Diabolical. If You’re an Author, They’re all the Above.

I’m working on a new novel. On the one hand, I love every minute I put into it. On the other ,I’ve set the bar so high with twists, turns, numerous factions, dimensional travel, time travel, giant people, little people and a plethora of creatures, some good, most bad that the manuscript, at times, falls from my good graces. Each time I begin a new manuscript, my aim is to hold the reader’s attention, to draw them into the novel, and make them feel as though they are living the story along with the characters.

The closest thing I could compare it with would be a dream that faded into reality once you awoke. The world of writing is unique unto itself. You create worlds and characters that readers become passionate about, yet only exist in their minds. To take it one step further, each reader would have a slightly different conception of the same book. It gets to be mind-boggling if you give it too much consideration. A good book can be cathartic for the reader and author though not necessarily for the same reason. I can only go a day or two without writing; else I start Jonesing. That being said. I suppose my mission is clear.

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They Say, They Say, They Say, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah

The point of this blog is something I have probably mentioned before. Being that it brings with it such a lack of understanding, I believe it bears mentioning again.

I’m sure we’ve all heard a phrase such as, “They say it’s gonna be hot today,” or perhaps, “They say if you don’t rotate your tires, they’ll wear unevenly.” Finally, they say, “If you sneeze with your eyes open, they’ll pop out of your head.”

Now, we have to ask ourselves who is “they” since “they” have a massive amount of influence over our daily lives?

I imagine a panel of crinkly old aliens sitting around a semi-circular, high-tech desk. Each one dressed in a futuristic robe, carrying an exotic staff.

They grunt in a guttural fashion constantly spewing out things that, according to them, are things we say. “We,” of course, meaning, “they.”

Giving the concept of “they, them, or whoever,” anymore thought than this is probably not a good idea. I just wanted to give you a heads up. I’m going back to my current manuscript. Have a great week.

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Water, Water, Everywhere and Only a Few Quintilian Gallons to Drink

Our bodies can do without water for a short time. Deprived of H2O, dehydration takes over, we dry up, then die. Down through the ages, if you put it in a nutshell, the way we gathered water is a bit of a misnomer.

When we were hunter-gatherers, we drank from pristine streams originating in the mountains. As we became more civilized and built cities close to rivers, we drew water from the river in the same place we emptied raw sewage. We have names for periods of time such as Cenozoic, Mesozoic, Jurassic and so on. I like to call this water retrieval period, “Stupid in Reverse.”

Today most of the population drinks bottled water. Not so many years ago, I would have laughed had someone told me  I would be paying for it. The funny thing about this is, when I tested my tap water against the brand of bottled water we were drinking at the time, the tap water tested superior to the bottled water and by a significant difference. I even wrote a novel, Rising Tide, about a world inundated by water. There was land available but it was definitely at a premium. What it boils down to (no pun intended), is there’s water everywhere–in the ground, the air, oceans, rivers, streams, creeks, mud puddles and pretty much anywhere you can think of (except the arctic which is actually the most arid place on earth with deserts running a close second). So the next time you pick up that cool, clear glass of water, be thankful you’re not drinking from a municipal source a hundred years ago.

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