CarlHoliday

Ben has been published Valley of the Dwarfs is out for editing and will start posting soon. Have started a new story tentatively titled The Killer of Men. It is a post-apocalyptic kind of story. Most of the Earth's human population is dead (the Great Plagues) or gone (the Great Exoduses), leaving small pockets of people out in the countryside or in what remains of cities. Jesse is twelve, going on thirteen, when the story starts. He is a member of the Red Men of the Blue Knoll clan and yearns to be blooded to prove his worthiness to his village. To do that, he much travel many days to the nearest city and take trophies (the penises of men (death), the ears of boys (wounding), or when he's older and blooded simply taking heads), but no one will guide him other than his older brother Arlen. He is captured and sent to a human retraining facility (prison camp) operated by robots. Robots rule Earth now. They have a plan to restore Earth to the paradise it was before the advent of Western Civilization by eradicating all independent human groups, but they've run into a problem. Some humans see paradise differently than robots causing anomalies in their plan and some groups of humans are not easily overcome as others. They have determined that the assassins coming out of the clans on the western plains to be a possible solution to their problem. In the course of Jesse's retraining he finds a friend in Tom and they go on to be Killers of Men. Frankly, if I'm not careful, this could turn into a fully functioning series that has the potential to go on ad infinitum. The Blog story announced in Sneak Peeks is on hold at the moment. As I was working on it, I hit a patch of extreme depression (luckily wonderfully mollified by Wellbutrin) and had to stop. When I came out of that psychological dip, I couldn't pick up the story line. It'll sit for awhile stewing on a back burner while I work on the new one. It has a life, buy it's gone into hibernation. Received email today advising one job prospect is still viable. Cross your fingers, I maybe out on the road soon. Life as I'm currently enjoying it approaching obliteration (for reasons other than impending employment).

It just came to me. The working title of the new fable is now "The Valley of the Dwarfs." Yes, I know! I know! It's been done. But, this isn't a rehash of "The Valley of the Dolls." Honest. Besides, the strongest intoxicant in the Hinterland is dwarf ale, which will knock you down onto the floor and roll you around in the filth. Just finished Chapter 5. A couple werewolves showed up. And, it was daylight! Figure that one out. The alpha male, Alberto of La Rosa, is black and the alpha female, Angela, is brown. Very talkative, full of information. Angela has the hots for one of the secondary characters, a fourteen-year-old orphan named Dieter, but he knows he'd be playing second fiddle to Alberto, so he keeps putting her off. Frankly, I think she's just playing with him, but one never knows about werewolves. That's all for now.

Posted the last chapter of "Dreams Can Come True" this morning. The next fable, "Ben," should be up in a week or so. Although there are 5 chapters, they'll all be posted at the same time. It's probably the closest I've come to a "children's story," but unfortunately, I had to throw in some sex and the cute children's story becomes something entirely different. The fourth in this series, which just might be longer than the others, has been completed through Chapter 3. Don't have a working title yet other than "Tax Man". Was thinking of how clever it would be to use "The Taxman Cometh," but that's been done too much. There is a possibility of "Just Because You Have an Education Doesn't Make You Smart," but I don't think that'll be it. Anyway, I'm having a lot of fun with it so far. Let's see, there's a bit of S & M (okay, one of the major characters is a sadistic bastard and another character is a simpering masochist, and they get together now and then), there's a bit of priestly sex (NO! No details, just suppositions, innuendos), a bit of priestly sadism (well, there aren't any nuns to do it), arrogant stupidity (the best kind), a eunuch (yes, a real one, from that place where eunuchs come from), the usual nymphs and fairies, dwarfs, and probably a few other things I haven't thought of, yet. (Though I did write about a suicide, no, no, can't tell, don't want to ruin the surprise.) I don't know what comes after that. The job situation is still up in the air, but I may have something in the works. Hopefully, it will lead to something involving good money. On the psychological front, everything is going hunky-dory or as hunky-dory as it can be, though I was a bit suicidal last week. Talked myself out of it until my mood stabilized. Writing the fables seems to help by stuffing a lot of humor into my mind and I have a number of humorous books like "National Lampoon's Truly Tasteless Cartoons." Nothing like looking at a cartoon of by Thomas W. Cheney showing a blind voyeur holding his seeing-eye dog to a window or the Charles Rodrigues cartoon of a man washing his hands in a men's room with a sign on the wall that says, "EMPLOYEES MUST USE TOILET PAPER." They go on and on until I've feeling okie-dokie. Oh, yes, I also finished reading "American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer." That is one very depressing book (and probably had a major impact on my depressed mood). A brilliant man, but in many ways a total dolt. Most of his problems could be explained by his naivete and grating personality. Unfortunately, he had his enemies, too, the FBI being one of the most virulent. Those people are just plain scary. I'm now reading "Native Son" by Richard Wright, another depressing story, but not as bad as the other.

for all my complaints about hypergraphia and sunk under a cloud of melancholy, the gnome fable is finished and in the can. Let's see, started 3/29, completed 4/7, what's that? 10 days? Well, it's not that much when you consider it's only 15.4K words. Next up: A story about a group of university graduates who setup a winter tourist destination at a time when tourists were mostly people on some kind of pilgrimage to the site of some odd religious relic like the left big toe of Saint What's-his-name. Then they decide that since there is no apparent local government, they should setup one of those, too; and, well, we all know governments don

the recent bout of hypergraphia has subsided into general malaise and i am wrapped in a blanket of dark melancholy. luckily, the meds keep me up enough to prevent acts of fatal stupidity. hopefully, will be back on track soon. the gnome story was going good, but the light changed and won't change back to green. in the meantime, my next story dreams can come true will be out soon. as with the previous story, it is short. i can't seem to be able to do anything of substantial length. for your reading pleasure, I offer this. life is a constant cycle, some handle it better than others.

Okay, started the new story. It's sort of a take-off on Sir Terry Pratchett's novel The Wee Free Men which I recently completed. Yes, it's aimed at teens, but if you're a Discworld fan, that doesn't matter. My story won't have any Nac Mac Feegles, but it will have Gnomes, which are (in my world) evil beings who steal children to be their slaves; and, once the children have grown up, well, they're not useful anymore and are sold to elves (even nastier beings, which appear in my latest story, soon to be published on gayauthors.org). In my story, gnomes, or agents thereof, have stolen a boy. An expedition is mounted to enter the netherworld and rescue the child. Normally, humans are not permitted to enter the netherworld, but children easily slip in and out because they still have strong imaginations and their brains aren't cluttered up with a lot of logic that says that some place like the netherword shouldn't exist. Since adult humans can't enter the netherworld, there are some serious discussions going on as to who should join the rescue party. Luckily, in my story, there are two humans who might just have the qualifications to slip in unnoticed.

Wow! This wave of creativity just goes and goes. Not waking me up in the middle of the night with plot solutions, since these simple tales are a little skimpy on everything. The new story, carrying Dreams Can Come True as the title, is finished and chapter 1 has been sent off to the editor. I don't know what to do next, but I'm kind of thinking about a spin on Sleeping Beauty (sleeing beau), the virgin locked in the tower (could be another quest story with the attendant assorted characters), a twist on Rumplestiltskin (for born son), Cinderfella has already been done so we won't go there, or I might just keep on the same train of thought started with the current series. As this one pretty much takes off from where the first one finishes. That might be easier than trying to come up with too much and getting too frustrated and then coming to complete halt like I've done before. We'll see. The last chapter of The Words Will Set Us Free will be out early this week (hopefully) and the new story will follow that.

As happens sometimes, I

Serial killer works for me.

Once upon a time someone went down a hole and couldn't find his way back out. Until now. Seems the muse has found me no matter how hard I tried to keep her at bay or was it something else preventing her from giving me that urge to share. Don't know. Still plagued with the bipolar shit. Some days good, some days bad. Some days very, very bad. The new story is only just over 22,000 words long, barely a novella. If published, the font size would be a bit larger than normal, the font style would be a bit wider than usual, the leading would be a bit airy, and the justification settings would allow more intercharacter space. All of this would allow the book to be printed in a sizable volume that would feel good in a reader's hands. It's broken up into five chapters. Actually it's all written since I'd want to drop of the ledge again and not be able to finish it in a timely manner. Anys, I hope you enjoy the adventure.

22,000 plus words. Chapter 1 off to the editor. One week, and considering I haven't written practically anything except bits and pieces and uncompleted works, I think it's an accomplishment. And, it's stayed light as any fairy tale should. Though there is a bit of offal and blood, but that's just the way I do things. Thinking of doing a dragon story next, course it won't be your usual dragon story. I see the knight as a bit of a dandy. Probably the gold embellishments on his shiny armor or is it the pink plume on his helm. I see him seeking an as yet undiscovered dragon, something legend hasn't quite caught up with yet, but he's certain it'll be hiding in its lair when he finally finds it. So, yes, the knight is a bit of a odd sort with obscure ideas about how dragons live. He's mostly looking for plunder, not that he actually knows what that is. Or, in his very words: "Well, you see, it's dragons that's got all the plunder and all I want is a bit of it, say a mule's worth. I've got me lance and sword to stick him, or her, with to make my point. I hope it isn't a her with little dragonlets crawling about. I'm not adverse to sticking them too, but think of the fables that will follow about Sir Gladhand killing baby dragons. I'd be a disgrace to my family, I would. So I'm off to find a dragon and steal a bit of plunder. Oh, and I already do have me own mule to tote the plunder, whatever it is." "Have you seen any plunder before, so you'll know when you find it?" "Well, no, not actually, but if it's in a dragon's lair then it's bound to be plunder, don't you think?" Or, something like that. Have to keep thinking lighthearted and humorous. A bit of fun, sex, blood, and gore, all the really nice things you'd expect in a fairy tale.

Just when I thought this story couldn't get any weirder, the pixies showed up. Seems they're caught in the castle, too, but they know how to get out and have enlisted Gregor's assistance. Well, it wasn't hard since he very much wants to get out, too. Also, the sorcerer has been named, though he doesn't yet know the significance of that event. We'll have to see. Plus, we now know how everything can go wrong, forever dooming Gregor to the evils in the castle. Actually, it's all coming together. Hopefully, everything will be resolved within a couple chapters. This isn't going to be a long story and the chapters aren't that long either. But, considering I haven't been able to write any fiction for over a year, I think things are working out okay. Just think of it. Pixies! Why is it pixies always seem to come to the rescue at the last minute? And, they don't even have little, tiny horses, either.

Don't know where it came from. Where do stories come from? Out of the ether I suppose. Anyway, it's a fairy tale. You know, one of those Grimm brothers tales about curses, monsters, princes, fair maidens (only in this case it's not a maiden). Don't know what's to become of it. Since I've pretty much every thing I've started this year is hanging around undone in the Doc folder. Of course, this hasn't been a very good year, but the meds seemed to have stabilized me, so let's keep our fingers crossed. Anyway, in the past three nights I've knocked out over four chapters, so at least it has a good start out of the gate. Basically, the story goes like this: Way back sometime before the Renaissance swept over Europe, a young man, Gregor, (around twenty) sets out on a journey to the "coast" where he is to be apprenticed to his uncle as a butcher. Along the way, he's waylaid by a hideous monster who takes him to a castle atop a rocky crag. (Didn't put it in, but it was probably raining and flashes of lightening filled the air.) At the castle, he is put under the butler, named Roger, who blathers on and on about the most inane stuff. Gregor is taken up to his tower room, where Roger leaves him for the night. That's when the magic starts. Seems Gregor has the knack for doing feats of unbelievable magic. Well, Roger had used a magic spell to bring clothes for Gregor to wear. (Did I mention Gregor was naked when the monster nabbed him? Bathing in the river after a long hot hike in the forest.) Gregor makes himself a nice supper and breakfast the following morning, after which he goes down to find Roger and find out what's going on. Roger sends him to the Master of the Castle, a man cursed to live in the castle for eternity because he kept catamites until discovered by his father, the king of some unnamed country, who put him in the castle. Although the Master is centuries old, he doesn't look a day over twenty-three. It's his plan to seduce Gregor, something Gregor wants no part of. Of course, there's the monster, too. He acquires young men to tempt the Master, which only lengthens the curse. There's also a talking raven to provide comic relief. And a senuous ghost (male) who only makes love to Gregor in his dreams, which much to his consternation Gregor starts enjoying a lot more than he wants. I'm certain there will be more characters, but not many more. In a nutshell, Gregor's task is to keep the Master out of his pants, so everyone can live happily ever after, or find a way to escape without the monster coming after him. The monster devours young men. Their screams fill the castle. Sometimes it helps to have a little horror in fairy tales, but this is no Beauty and the Beast tale. Anyway, I don't know how long this will be or whether it will last until completion. I hope so because it's the most lighthearted story I've come up with in a long time.

Was trying to do a Happy New Year! entry yesterday on the Wonth of January, but betas sometimes prove themselves to be what they are and the entry was ended back in on the Tooth of January, 2004, long before I was even a member. Oh well, that's life. The good thing about all of this is that you won't have to be forced to read to an irrelevant rant out of the depths of melancholy. Trust me, it reeked of unbelievable amounts of black bile. Oh well, that's life. So, I guess, for what it's worth, Happy New Year! (I'd like to think this year will be better than the last, which it may be, but life tends to throw a lot of curves, especially to those who can't hit worth a damn.) So, I guess, the best I can do is to with you and yours a Happy New Year! It can't get better than that.

It seemed like a good opportunity. Little was I to know that with one little click of the mouse, I was in for a day of blood curdling hell. Norton has an update that it's pushing to hapless subscribers. "Norton Internet Security 2010 has been downloaded to your computer. Click the button below to f**k up your computer." Of course, it didn't say that exactly, but that's what happened. The update didn't take and presented a wonderful error message with a three step process to fix it. Step 1 was the most important, but I wouldn't learn that until later. Step 2 probably wasn't necessary, but who's to know in situations like this. Step 3 was worthless as it didn't do anything. In the course of trying to get this thing to work and then trying to undo the damage that was done, Norton announced that my IP address was invalid and needed to be updated. WRONG! At that point I lost internet access and didn't get it back until going to Compaq who walked me through the Windows Recovery process. In other words, for those who have had the pleasure, restoring my laptop back to a pristine, out of the box condition. Luckily, I have been backing up my documents, pictures, and music because if I hadn't, well . . . Windows Recovery is similar to the old blue screen of death. Funny, but the background color to the Compaq Recovery screen is nearly the same shade of blue. Unfortunately, not everything is back to normal, but I do have documents, pictures, and music, what just might be the important things in life. On a more pleasant note, today is the sixth anniversary of my LiveJournal blog. It was started a mere thirteen days prior to my coming out and went on to record most of the subsequent pathetic events of my life. On a happier note, for the past eighteen days or so I've been serializing short segments of a story I'm working on, mostly to get back in the habit of creative writing on a daily basis.

Stepped on the scale this morning. It wasn't quite awake. It said 275.5. That was obviously an incorrect answer. Stepped on the scale again. It said 277. I can live with that. (277 = -15 lbs. in 1 year) I can live with losing 15 pounds. Now, all I have to do is get through Xmas.

Every time I drove through the metroplex I always avoided any interstate with a "3" in it. I-20, though horrendous at times, then cut up through the middle on 408/12 or 360. It's further, but the traffic seems to keep moving.

Having been told I had 90 year-old knees when I was 21 (I'm 60 now!), I can only suggest not pushing yourself to the point where simply walking is painful. But you can learn to live with the pain, too. Since it is an everyday thing, it tends to become like any other background noise in your life. You know it hurts like hell, but you've put that pain into some darkened corner of your mind where you can't pay any attention to it.

It's been a week of weighing in at 281. So, it looks like 283 is no longer my plateau. So, this means I've lost 10 pounds since I stopped driving last December. Unfortunately, I have to go back to driving next month. But, if I work hard, 279 shouldn't be that hard to achieve. Ten pounds a year and I've only got five years to hit my target of 230. According to the current BMI calculator, I should be 200, but my doctor said that would make me too skinny. Imagine! Too skinny! I've never, ever been skinny. Can't even see myself as skinny. Skinny isn't a word I use. Though, skinny is a turn-on for me. Skinny arms, especially. Skinny thighs, woo-hoo! But, can't see me being skinny. Pleasantly plump, yes. Skinny, no.

I guess I'm going back to driving. I went to the hazmat fingerprint place today and gave the government images of my arches, loops, and whorls. I should get the approval in a month. Then it's back to finding a company that'll employ me as my previous employer has made it clear they don't want me. In some ways I'm glad. On the writing front, basically, I'm not. I don't exactly know why but that seems to be the situation right now. There are still stories in the bin to be written, but they don't seem to be coming out right now. I'm not certain if it's a block or a result of the mood stabilizer sucking out all my creative energies. Maybe it's something else. I don't really know. I'm reading a lot, though, good stuff, too. Hopefully it'll do some good on the writing front, but I'm not holding my breath. Fortunately, I still haven't arrived at the future. When I was younger I looked forward to a time when I could look back on a long and mostly happy life, but I continue to look forward expecting things to get better. I suppose that's inevitable. As long as there is a future in your life, you have to keep moving along the path.

If at some point in the future a doctor offers you Gabapentin for pain control, run away as fast as you can. Our GP seems to think this is the latest and greatest panacea to be available. This is a dangerous medicine. Yes, it will probably cause you to be drowsy, but a good twelve hours of sleep takes care of that. Do you have four extra hours, plus a couple more of feeling very drowsy? I didn't; and I wasn't up to the theoretical theraputic dose. I was only takeing 400 mg and it was wiping me out. Then there are the other, more obscure side effects. For the wife, it messed up her glucose levels. As a diabetic, she can't have waking up with a reading over 300. For me, well, let's just say that it messed up the nice, calm mental state I've been trying to maintain since being put on Depakote and Wellbutrin. Life was going along and then hostility and anger shot through the roof. Depression sunk me into an unbelievable gloom. I was, in a word, dangerous, to myself and others. Quite frankly, that old demon, suicide, raised its ugly head and tapped me on the shoulder, offering eternal solace. The dreams? Yes, they were abnormal, weirdly abnormal, strange, scary, but not nightmarish. I kind of like dreams where I'm the star, it's quite another thing to have a dream where you're just a face in the crowd, not even an extra in the movie, just one of those people over there on the edge of the set hoping to get a glance at their favorite actor. I do not like dreams where I look across the street and see myself going into a building and not coming out, then going off doing something I have no memory of. I do not like being someone else. It's just too weird. So, I stopped taking the vile medicine. And, I'm much better, thank you very much. Hostility and anger are back down to manageable levels, depression is practically nonexistent, I feel okay. Just okay, middling, which I'm supposed to feel on Depakote. I can deal with middling. The dreams are back to normal, too. Quite frankly, I kind of like okie-dokie.

One of the joys of getting older is the need to subject yourself to various and sundry tests and procedures meant to diagnose cancer early. Beware of the Flexible Sigmoidoscopy. It's not like a Colonoscopy because it doesn't turn the corner between the traverse colon and the descending colon. It only goes up to the corner. Also, they don't use any drugs to ease the comfort of having your colon blown up like a balloon or having a long, hard, flexible probe run up the tunnel. It was nice, though, to be able to watch the show and not see any polyps, tumors, or anything else that might cause a problem. Also, the probe didn't perforate the lining, which I understand causes another procedure you don't want to go through.

Well, I guess it was inevitable that The Artists would end early. After a nine month hiatus, strings become frayed and some brake unexpectedly. There just didn't seem to be sufficient need to go on because it could've gone on. The story was setup to go on for at least the four years the freshmen, Six and Casey, had ahead of them. But, it wasn't to be. Sometimes life just gets in the way of what you're doing. So why give Casey HIV? I suppose to kill him off, too, so that future stories, if they are to occur, will center on stories around the Six character. Was Casey expendable in the beginning? Probably, deep down in the subconscious, the obese kid was doomed to a horrible end. The new story is up to chapter 2 and won't start posting until I have quite a few more considering my current state of mind. I went to the shrink on Monday and we upped the antidepressant. Then, on Tuesday, I went to my GP for my age 60 physical and she gave me Gabapentin to control the arthritic pain I'm experiencing in my knees. Unfortunately, some of the side effects of this drug are depression (got it already), suicidal thoughts (don't want them), and arthralgia (joint pain). I don't have much faith in this drug doing anything, but doing me a great deal of harm. Primarily, Gabapentin is a seizure drug, but one of its side benefits is easing nerve pain. Of course, no one knows how this drug actually works, since human experimentation is somewhat limited due to legal and ethical issues about killing lab humans for immediate dissection. From what I read Gabapentin is structually similar to some of the neuro transmitters, but doesn't seem to interact with them. Also, it isn't metabolized by the body. It easily slips through the renal system in its original form as if unused by the body. However it does seem to calm the brain and provide relief for pain. Somewhat like most of the antidepressants I've taken. All you have to get through the side effects.

I tried writing an entry yesterday, as it was my 60th birthday, but luck would have it I was in a pissy mood. Maybe it was the mojitos I had the previous night. I'd never tried one, much less two. They're good, but they remind me of the mint growing like weeds where we searched for wild asparagus when I was much, much younger. You know, kid days, when tromping around in mint to find fresh asparagus heads was fun. Or, maybe it was the news, which I've been watching too much lately. The gullibility of people can be downright aggravating sometimes. Then there was the NPR interview I listened to a few days ago, but now that I go back to link it, they've summarized the interview into a story, taking out the part the pissed me off. It's so nice when someone decides to clean the stupidity out of a story. What all this means is that the bipolar swapped positions. Before my birthday I was depressed a lot and then I wake up sixty years old and in a pissy mood. What a joyous occasion. The mood stabilizer I take helps the depression very well, but I still have to watch out when it flips because, for me, the opposite of depression is being angry. In the past, it was road rage angry. I'm much better now, if you like pissy, that is.

Thanks to all! I'm still trying to figure how it all went wrong. I guess I picked up a few longevity genes from my mother because on my father's side of the family men don't see 60.