Christmas in Chesterfield Inlet, Again.

  Christmas in Chesterfield Inlet again.

  Away.

  From the troops.

  From the home.

  From all.

  Merry Christmas to the readers and the stalkers.

Demons, On Arrival

  Demons can come in all shapes and forms. For some, it's nightmares creating the sensation in their sleep. For others, it's a fear of depths

  For me, it's returning to a land that is unfamiliar. Unfamiliar as I still call the place my homeland.

  People I no longer recognize, places I no longer identify with, roads that did not exist. Feelings long swept away come rushing back with the only familiar demon I recognize.

  The water. The surf. The river. And the bay.

  168 hours is not enough.I shall need to return for less glorious reasons, but for this nightmare, 168 hours was more than enough time for the Demon On Arrival.

Demons, Awaiting the Arrival

  All writers abhor going home.

  For some, it's a case of not having achieved enough. For others, it's a case of facing the music on what they have achieved.

  For I, it's facing the demons.

  I have looked at photographs and not recognized my hometown. I have examined a map and not know locations. I have emailed others, to be greeted by non response.

  The demons are awaiting my arrival.

One Last Time

  Thanksgiving is upon us, and shortly, Christmas. Between the two is my father's birthday.

  I am grateful for my Father's health, that I have one more opportunity to be with him on his birthday. Dad was away on Exercise with the Army while I was growing up, that I rarely shared his, or my, birthday with him.

  As my daughters were growing up, I made it a point. Being so far away from own grandparents growing up, I never saw them either.

  Now that I live 7752 miles from my father, it's not such a simple task to drop by. It's certainly a lot further than my Grandparents ever traveled to see me.

  Not everyone gets "one last time" to go home.

Holiday Seasons

  Halloween is over. There is even a house a couple of streets away from me that has their Christmas lights up.

  I neither decorated for Halloween, nor handed out any candy. The house was dark and I didn't participate.

  I may not participate either in Thanksgiving or in Christmas this year.

  Thanksgiving is a time of family coming together. Christmas is a time of good will to all. In a moment of enlightenment, this will be the first holiday season that I will not know where my children are.

  My traditional holiday destination of Chesterfield Inlet is looking colder, this year. 

Not Being Stephen King

  I was recently approached by a fan - a First Fan - with a request to supply a book for one of their friends. The Other Person is a fan of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series in which I have made a number of published contributions

  I agreed to supply the book.

  Whilst searching through the Contributor's Copies of a number of books in which I have appeared, I began to think about what should I write to the Other Person as an Author Dedication. The First Fan has asked me for a copy to introduce my writing to one of their friends - should I include the First Fan by name in the dedication? Perhaps it would be better only to dedicate it the Other Person? Maybe I should include my business card to legitimize the dedication?

  Did Stephen King have these dilemmas early in his career, and how did he handle them? I sincerely doubt that King has these quandary's now - he has a staff to help and guide. For me, it's a one person show.

  Perhaps that's the benefit of not being Stephen King. I don't have to sign thousands of books at mass events where people line up for hours. I don't have a room full of books that will need generic signatures before being shipped out. I still have that intimate fan base, where all (most of) my Fans are known to me personally.

  Not being Stephen King may have an advantage.

  I wonder if King ever sits around at book signings and asks himself "when is the next person that I know by name, going to show up."

  I would suggest that those people that King knows by name, are his First Fans that he took care of in the early years, and still takes care of now. They don't have to show up at book signings - he sends them First Copies.

  I'll write the First Fan into the dedication.

  Maybe one day King will ask me to write a dedication for him.



  

...so I contintinue to write.

  Google Plus is gone. Another batch of writings lost to technology..

  I write on paper - with a pencil. It's more enduring that a pen. It's more comforting that dipping into an ink well.

  Over the years I have owned numerous writing implements - all have been damaged long after the gift giver has left me. So I continue to use pencil and paper. The log books from the years are numerous.

  The diary to my eldest daughter is the only one which has ceased.

  In another part of my personal life, I am caring for a another, approaching end of life. It is, tiring.

  So I continue to write.

I Always Knew It Was Coming

  There are moments in time, where everything changes. When you know that nothing will ever be the same again. Sometimes, you get real quiet, as it was an unexpected event.

  Sometimes you get real quiet, because you always knew it was coming - and then once it arrives, you immediately recognize it for what it was.

  Several weeks ago, my father reached out to the mother of my children, attempting to get in contact with my daughters. The mother of my daughters said she would pass the message on.

  My father never heard from my daughters. He, too, has become the grandparent affected by parental alienation.

  Yesterday, the mailman arrived and made rounds. In the mail for me, was the birthday card I had sent my eldest daughter, in May of this year. It was marked "no longer at this address".

  The last point of contact for my children has now gone.

  Everything changes now. Nothing will ever be the same again. I got real quiet. I always knew it was coming.

Story Goes to Slashdot

Story goes viral.

Today, the San Diego Reader published my story on the nationwide outage affecting the receipt of pay for Uber drivers.

The story was picked up on Slashdot and has gone viral.

A piece of work created by me now appears on  /.  a site that I read every day.

Thank you to both the Reader and Slashdot. 

I Went To Denny's - Thank You United 93.

I went to a Denny's today. Ordered an All American Grand Slam and a coke. Thumbing through the Twitter feed I saw that the President was visiting Shanksville,  Pennsylvania.

The final resting place of 40 heroes on board United Flight #93.

 I imagine that seventeen years ago, someone sat in a Denny's before starting their day, either to cross the country on one of the ill fated flights, or before attending the World Trade Center complex. They could have ordered the same meal as me, not knowing what their day may bring.

For the passengers of United 93, their voices continue to be heard through the wind chimes of the memorial tower.

Their loved ones have a place to go to grieve, to remember and to thank. Their children can thumb through the history books and learn what their father, mother, did. To save us all.

I went to Denny's today not knowing where my children are. They will be no monument, no location that they will go to when I have passed. They will not know until long after I am gone.

And nor will I should they precede me.

Thank You United 93 - for saving our children.

Still Waiting on Email

Still waiting on email to transfer over. It's day seven and any mail sent to me has not been received.

Good thing I'm paying for this email server.

Migration to the server takes place at 0800 Tuesday 11 September 2018.

Tecnhical Upgrades to Site and Email

  For the past eleven years of so, I have used the technical services of Go Daddy for my email and web site. In April this year, I changed my cell phone from an Android to Iphone X, my first Apple product. At the time of conversion all my settings from the Android device transferred over to the Iphone.

  In the past couple of months, Apple, somewhere along the line, decided that "backwards compatibility" was no longer going to occur - probably because there's no money to be made with it. Consequently, when I routinely changed the password of my email account on my cell phone, the operating system could no longer accept the "antiquated" email and server that I was working on.

  For three hours yesterday, the service department of Go Daddy and I went to work on correcting the issues associated with coming forward to 2018 technology. There's was nothing wrong with the old technology, but it did have a shelf life of 2019 - the forced changed was just unexpected.

  Who has to change their entire web site and email operating system as a result of changing their passsword? Me.

  In about ten days or so, the new web site will transition over, email will be moved to a new server, and all of this will appear seamless to you, the reader.

  With one exception. For the next ten days, I will not be able to respond to emails through my cell phone and will have to use a desktop or laptop and log into a browser window to respond. If my responses are not timely, I ask for your patience as the technology upgrades are made.

  Many thanks to Go Daddy for providing great service. 

The Wayside

In a few days, I will be celebrating a birthday.

When I was a new Dad, birthdays were events that were planned weeks in advance. Travel, dining, and if required, accommodation. First my eldest, and then later joined by her younger sister, they would be "moments" of togetherness.

And they were only moments. Those togetherness moments went by the wayside once the separation and the divorce began. Years later, although remarried, they are still by the wayside.

The Uber Driver

Feature story in the San Diego Reader.

The photoshoot of the Chevrolet did not make the final publication. 

Photoshoot

Photoshoot.

Phoenix

Phoenix.

It's hot. It's flat. There's no ocean.

Did I mention it was hot?

Arrived today at 99 degrees Fahrenheit.

"But it's a dry heat."

In Memorium

The day could not pass without remembering the life of Mark Goodwin, Constable of Police, died in the line of duty 9 July 1991.

There, but for the stroke of a pen, go I.

Write First

Write first.

Somehow, during the past month or so, I have not written. Why?

There are numerous reasons why, some that can be disclosed, others that shouldn't be disclosed. Press on, and let the words fall where they should be written.

Not All Bad - Part III

Recall two prior posts when I commented that not all was bad?

Earlier this week the publisher of the article scheduled a photo shoot. While the Reader may not recognize the significance of that invitation, First Fans will understand given the track record that has been accomplished in the past few years.

It seems that almost everything that I have written about has been accepted and published.

I have to work on my own self image to accommodate that I may in fact be a rising writer.

Australian Motor Sport Comes of Age

Australian motor racing come of age. Today.

Over the years, I have watched and met some great Australian racers.

Sir Jack Brabham - watched, met and stood in awe.

Alan Jones and Mark Webber. Both winners and worthy of our nation's praise.

Today, Daniel Riccardo. added his name to the list, winning the first crown jewel of the day, the Monaco Grand Prix.

But in the world of Motor Sport, the crown jewels include the Indianapolis 500, Will Power becoming the first Australian to do what Sir Jack was unable to do.

Many years ago at the Surfers Paradise Grand Prix, I had the honor of meeting Roger Penske, at a time when his team couldn't get a win. I told him he needed an Australian to drive for him.

We waited, and the Captain delivered.

Australian motor sport unrests the crown jewels.

Not All Bad - Part II

Recall I said that it wasn't all bad after I submitted a feature article, the first in three years?

Look for the article to be published in the coming months.  Submission accepted.

Not All Bad

Not all bad things have evolved from this period.

Yesterday I was able to submit a feature article, the first such submission in almost three years. Why?

For the past three years I have been gainfully employed in an industry that pays for a forty hour week and demands a hundred hour week. Between the Southern California commute and sleeping, I can examine almost every aspect of my life that has been vanquished for the industry. It is not wonder now that my body is sleeping more, recovering from the damage that has been exerted.

That doesn't pay the bills though.

Not out of the woods yet.

I'll get there after I have a nap. 

Protecting The Writting Time- Part II

So much for protecting the writing time.

In a recent 17 day writing challenger, I managed to complete...one day.

In the past three weeks I have neglected to maintain the protection that the writing demands. Instead, I have been focused on other matters which may appear to take precedent, but which need to have a secondary place to the writing.

It is not that the last three weeks have not produced any writing, it's just that the last three weeks have not produced enough writing to warrant the past three weeks.

The current projects have been expanded and two major cover stories are being formulated for a local magazine that I have written for in the past.

Get the writing the protection that it needs before the writing opportunity is gone.

Protecting The Writting Time

  At 16:45 Friday 30 March 2018,  Good Friday the world changed.

  The much maligned opportunity to acquire quality writing time came to fruition and presented itself before me as an initial unwelcome visitor. While the past seven days have been spent composing documents for the annual tax return, I have been allowed to make notes, jot ideas and began composing a feature story that I have long held dear to my heart.

  I have also returned to a evolving story line, also near and dear to my heart, which holds a partial connection to the previously mentioned feature story. That developing story has also had more attention to it in the past seven days that it has had in the prior months.

  Not every one gets another opportunity to write. This one, shall be protected.

Healthy Time

Earlier this week I was in San Francisco, a city I first visited in the 20th Century.  Since then, I have made a number of return journeys to the city. Business,  work, and with my family.  It is the location of the moment when I realized that my Father's health was failing.

This week, it became the catalyst for a change of direction.

I'm runnin out of healthy time. 

Counting On A Miracle

  Earlier this week I received a private message from a person whom knows, how shall I say, my history. They provided me with some information about my eldest daughter. When I went to verify the information, their report was confirmed and the last known connection that I had to my children, was now gone.

  So, once again, in the words of Bruce Springsteen, "I'm counting on a miracle, to come through."

A Piece of Crap

I was watching the Syfy channel this week and thought the film was "a piece of crap".

I changed over to another channel and was watching some horror film and thought it was "a piece of crap."

I have actually been told that some of my writing is too good and I need to "dumb it down".

So this week, I am working on a "piece of crap".

It will probably be a blockbuster.

Plagued By The Memories

Plagued by the memory of the women in my life.

They show up in my novellas. They show up in my memoirs.

The show up in my nightmares.

Sometimes, they collaborate on the issues that haunt me.

Lost Love

Sailing.

Daughters.

Australia.

Solitude.

Writing.

I'm Gonna Need a Bigger Boat

Houston, we have a problem.

Nothing as dramatic as the O2 panel exploding off the outer skin en route to the moon.

Nothing as devastating as Cyclone Tracy on Christmas Eve.

Proportionally, just as devastating.

My writing laptop took 25 minutes to boot up today and another 7 minutes to open a browser window.

I'm gonna need a bigger boat.

Or a new laptop.

In Bruce We Trust

Bruce Springsteen had his first hit in Australia with "Born To Run". The track was met with moderate success until the advent of FM radio, where the crisp and clarity of transmission put it into perspective. When "Born in the USA" was released, it became clear that Springsteen was tormented by women in his life. "Tunnel of Love" being the benchmark.

The internet has given insights into the writings of Bruce, as we, fans, can now delve back and discover the trauma in his life - predominately created by relationships - and how it was covered in his writings.

Writers, it seems, capture the essence of the their relationships, in their words.

And so while reviewing some previously written material, I discovered that traits of certain women in my life had found their ways into my words. Some it was the way they wore their hair, others it was their toxic relationship with their mother, and most always included the trauma of being a father.

I never considered it before today but it appears that Springsteen was one of the most influential writers in my life.

In Bruce We trust.

Stalkers in the Shadows

In the James Bond film, Spectre, the "Nine Eyes" committee chairman, "C", advocates for more surveillance.

Recently, and not for the first time, I have, again, discovered that one of the people in my past, is yet again stalking me. This time, they are operating under their own name, with ambiguous credentials for their employment. Truly, one of those moments in life where I can now look back and say that I missed a bullet,  this is a person who made their choice to depart from my life.

So what is it that keeps bringing these persons back into my life?  It's hard to believe that this person, or the previous, have any interest in what I do - they have not contacted me. (Contacted others around me, but not me.)  Lingering in the background they just seem to be watching what I do.

Perhaps lamenting the wrongs that they portrayed to me, waiting to see if such atrocities will make it into print.

Here's hoping that I never make it the list occupied by Gwyneth Paltrow, Lennon and Jodi Foster.

Science Fiction, Memoirs and Relationships

Three weeks into the new year and what have I learned form the Writers Lament?

I've learned that I have not protected my writing time enough.

Until such time that i can rest on my laurels (and royalties) I have to continue to write.  Sometimes it's not for the money, today is was for the message for my children.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

I was a father to two.

I still am, but my daughters don't know it. I continue to write about what has gone on, and what their father has lived through in their absence.  One day, when I am gone, they will read about really happened.

Until then I continue to write.

Science fiction. Memories. Relationships.

Three subjects I am apparently, not very good at.

18 January 1990

18 years on.

"Bravo 910, would you proceed to the Wool Store please.  Alarm sounding."

It was another long night at another fire.

Still photograph at 1 minute 39 seconds, Police Command Post.