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.