CarlHoliday

uh, psst! ...... excuse me .......... uh .......... don't make a big deal out of this ......... but I just hit 100 posts and did it before my 1 year anniversary here ........ uh ........ I guess that's something ......... I guess .............. um ............... maybe not ............

CONGRATULATIONS GRAEME! Wow! That is quite an accomplishment and I wish you many more years of happiness together.

Congratulations! ........... you can do it!

I'm home sitting on the bed in pajamas with my laptop on my lap and cute, little Bonita beside me sleeping, playing, cleaning, or simply ignoring me. Pets are like that. They'll give you all their love, but it's on their terms. Dogs are better than cats, though. At least they don't give you a hair ball every few days. There's nothing like the sound of a retching cat. Yesterday morning, I was waking up in Weed, CA. I like Weed. It's small town America in the mountains. Last Saturday when I drove through Weed (US-97 from Yakima), three boys were out at the skate park. It was cold and they were bundled up, but the sun was sort of out and, although the wind was brisk, there they were enjoying themselves in the great out of doors. Snowy Mount Shasta rises up behind the park and there are pine trees. It looks absolutely inviting, but there's no parking for big trucks. I like it when I see kids playing outside. I've driven through a lot of small towns at every hour of the day and you'd be surprised at the number of empty backyards and parks I've seen. Sometimes a town will seemingly be totally devoid of the sound of playing children. It's scary to think of all those chubby cheeks and flabby butts sitting inside their homes doing nothing more physical than walking to the kitchen to get another bag of chips. I'm still looking for a beta reader for my winter anthology story. I sent a snippet and description to TalonRider to see if he can find someone will to help, but I'm not holding my breath on this. It's just so damn frustrating sometimes, but that's what happens when you head down the creative path and discover there are few who want to help you along your way. The material for my website is finally coming together. I spent a couple hours this morning finally mortaring some of the bricks in place and seeing the final structure in my head. Hopefully, it will be enjoyable to one and all, but I'm not holding my breath on this one either. And, I'm back on the Kevin project. I want it ready to go once I've completed posting "Pastel." When "Tim" finishes, I think I'm going to post my first novel. It's a fun read and not too violent if you don't count the child abuse, that is. Finally, I made my 97th post this morning. Three more to go! I think I just might make 100 posts before my one year anniversary. Lastly, if we go out today, I just might find out how much a three inch green gecko is going to cost. I'd like to have a picture of that little bugger gracing my website. I certainly know all of you want to look at a little green gecko happily sitting on my hairy arm, though I am thinking of having it on the pearly white, hairless side of my bicep with it crawling up into my hairy pit. I know there are people out there who get that tingly feeling everytime they look at a hairy pit and I want to do my part to make them feel good.

I got really, really silly today. I was so high on myself I was having trouble holding a decent conversation with myself. Endorphins were dripping out of my nostrils I was so happy. I haven

Okay, so I want to go back to being 30-ish. It's a great time of life. The first time around I didn't have all that much fun, but the 30-somethings I knew were having a blast. The only caveat I would add is that I acknowledge I am gay at that age. Then I'd not have to go through twenty some years of increasing mental problems until I finally accepted the fact I prefer men to women. Of course, I really can't complain too much about waiting until I was 54 to come out. All the decisions I've made over the years have been mine (as long as we don't count my parents making me go to college and a few of their other ideas about how their son should grow up) so I can't be troubled with the outcome. Life goes on whether we like it or not. The whole point is to have as much fun so all that drool is happy drool. Carl

Today, I drove down I-5 from the Petro truck stop in Corning, CA, to the Petro in Wheeler Ridge, CA. It was a nice quiet drive except for the accident at the bridge over the Mokelumne River. From what I could see, someone went over the bridge railing. Firemen were getting out backboards so there were a few survivors. Other than that, it was a pleasant trip and I was able to come up with a couple story ideas. The first had to do with what is in my trailer. Imagine, if you will, free range apples. They

Today has been one of those days. It started okay and was going according to plan. Then everything went gaga and I

Interesting article. It's nice to see even Republicans from small-town America can be just as weird as everyone else. And, no, I don't think Curtis is gay just because he seeks sex with men. There's more to being gay than dressing up as a woman and wanting to experience sex as a woman, which doesn't sound very gay at all. Carl

Yesterday, I had some time before I had to deliver a load of empty boxes to the pumpkin seed place in Fresno so I was able to finish my winter anthology story. I've decided the title will be "Walkabout" because that's basically what this story is about, at least in the beginning. The village where the story begins has a tradition of allowing boys who reach the age of 16 to go on a one or two year walkabout too see other places on the planet and decide if they want to come back to the village and be a fisherman the rest of their life. This story concerns a boy who will be going on a walkabout and his best friend who plans on staying in the village and marrying the girl he's engaged to. The story takes place some time in the distant future, say a little over 100,000 years from now. It's related to my last to anthology stories in that it takes place on Glandar, but the time frame for this story is about halfway between the other two. There is a bit of violence and the threat of even more violence. This may be the future, but this little corner of the future is about as backwoods as you can get. Of course, religion gets kicked in the shins, too. What would a story by me be without a little religion bashing? Not that I'm against religions, they're very important for some people. It calms the masses because a little hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo every Sunday morning goes a long way toward keeping the masses focused on going to work, being good citizens, and coming back next Sunday with a goodly tithe because the preacher still has a few payments on the Mercedes. I put up a request for a beta reader because the story is over 11,000 words and I'm not certain if it's good enough to put into the anthology. I guess what I'm looking for is a strong critical read, something that Graeme is good at which you might know if you've ever had one of your stories Graemed. As of right now, no one has taken me up on the offer. You know, though, I'm a beta reader myself, so maybe if things get desparate, I'll have to volunteer to give my story a good critical read. Finishing the story means I now have time to do other necessary tasks, like putting up the next chapter of "The Pastel Cowboy." Chapter 11 is rather innocuous being mostly about Zach and Jeremy. I guess you could say it's a "warm and fuzzy" chapter, if that makes any sense. I can do "warm and fuzzy," honest. Now, I can get to work on my website project. Plus, put some time and effort into the Kevin project, which I desparately need to do. Well, I'd better get some sleep because it's supposed to be foggy in the Willamette Valley tomorrow morning and I hate driving in fog. Bright eyed and bushy tailed and ever ready to drive 60 mph in zero visibility. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

I have to be in Gresham, OR, around 10:00 this morning. I said I'd be there to drop this trailer. Day before yesterday I did the Bay Area. Drove from Corning, CA, to Livermore to deliver some box making material. Then it was down to Oakland to finish the load. I had to sit for a bit before my dispatcher found a load for me. It was in Stockton. I don't know if I have a load or if I'm taking the weekend off. A couple weeks ago I asked for the time off, but didn't hear if it was approved. I'm depressed right now. It comes and goes and it came back, again. Everything is okie-dokie, I just depressed. The story I was working on for the winter anthology is getting to be too long, again. I'd like it to be short, but it has to cover a lot of territory. I think it might be getting long enough to change into my next project since the Kevin thingy isn't going on because I want to get this story out of my mind. I think the reason the story is becoming too long is because where it takes place. One of the main characters, Acam the Geek, says,

I worked on the Winter Anthology story today and got quite a bit done. I think the two boys are going to die. I don't want them to die, but the way the story is going it seems inevitable that they'll die. I just haven't quite figure out how to go about setting it up because if they die both of them have to die at the same time. You know, that together in death thingy. It's such a cliche, but what to do otherwise. Orignally, I planned on them being taken away to a paradise of sorts, but that's making their captors into something they might not be. So, if they don't go to paradise, what do I do with them? Where they're going they can't get out of unless someone pulls off some miracle. And, it's not some place where they can continue living because resources are being expended for their existence, resources that could be better used elsewhere. But, what to do with them? I'm thinking they can become B'na. It takes awhile, but the initial injection basically obliterates the mind; or, at a minimum it dissolves free will. The B'na can think. They have personalities. They, themselves, remember being like humans, but what about real humans. Will the boy's personalities remain as they go through the processes to become immortal? Or, maybe, one of the boys will do something with his technical skills. Or, maybe, they'll simply be sold into slavery and taken to a labor colony on another planet. I'm not so certain this story is going to have a happy ending. So far, it certainly hasn't been a happy story. Very dark and gloomy. Oh, well, I'm tired and hopefully I'll have a load going south to California.

The problem with drinking ale all the time is that beer simply becomes distasteful to the palate. It sits on the tongue like rancid butter. Yet, there

Obviously, he didn't pay any attention to the expert, who puts the blame squarely on those who are clearly at fault. http://people.monstersandcritics.com/news/...rtis_fire_blame And, it's nice to see wacko Christians getting a little air time. Where would they be if they didn't get a little publicity now and then? And, it's nice he can blame the homosexuals when the bill in question was only adding sexual orientation to the list of things schools and school programs can't discriminate against. Why is sexual orientation always assumed to be a homosexual thing? This bill actually added hetrosexuality to the definition of sexual orientation. The fires could, in all likelihood, be God's punishment of those nasty hetrosexuals.

... horrific floods, tornados, blizzards, and feedlots. Ahh! the sweet aroma of burgers on the hoof.

This reminds me of the son of my mother's next door neighbor. Up until his early teens, he played dress-up, put on makeup, and acted about as gay as a boy can. His parents indulged him, thought it was cute, but didn't do anything to imply what he was doing was bad or abnormal. Thirty years later, he has two kids, a wonderful wife, and seems quite happy being straight. Carl

I'm at the Garlic Farm truck stop in Gilroy today. I delivered a load of cardboard to a box manufacturer earlier this morning. Later to night I'm going upt the road a few miles to pick up a load that has to be in Portland tomorrow night. It's been a quiet day of doing a little work on the laptop. I'm working on the story for the Winter Anthology, tentatively titled either "Walkabout" or "Through the Door." It's about two friends, one who knows he's gay and one who very much wants to be gay because he's madly in love with his friend to the point where he is willing to give up a certain future just to be with his friend. Yesterday, I got Chapter 5 of Tim and the Corsair put up on eFiction. This one is basically just sex. I think Sharon said it quite succintly, "Randy little buggers, aren't they." Don't you just love someone who can say a whole lot in just five words. The next chapter has a naughty doctor in it, but he's not as naughty as the doctor in The Pastel Cowboy. This one gets my seal of approval (for whatever that's worth). Actually, Geoff ends up being the naughty one, but we all know he's a sex fiend anyway. I've been watching my post count. Yes, I am concerned that I don't post all that much, but I am new to this and don't have a lot of time to be online. What concerns me is I am now one month away from my 1st Anniversary and I still haven't broken through the 100 post barrier. Pathetic, isn't it!

I'm home for the weekend. Two straight days, two meals at my favorite Mexican restaurant. Thursday, I figured it was time to post another chapter of The Pastel Cowboy, but when I read through Chapter 10 I realized I couldn't post it without some serious editing. In the Nifty version, there is a graphic description of a sex act between a young patient and his doctor. As far as I'm concerned, this one definitely crossed the line and couldn't show up in GA as written. (Yes, even I have some degree of propriety.) So, that bit is now written as a hallucination that implies a sex act that probably didn't occur, although something does happen. The Kevin Project is sort of moving forward. I haven't written anything today or yesterday. I'm beginning to think I might write Kevin's pieces as a continuous narrative to maintain some degree of character integrity through to the end. When I'm done, I'll break it apart and insert the other characters' pieces. I definitely do not want this project to end up with some sort of block attached to it. I like Kevin. He's a good kid who deserves to have his story told. Also, I need to get work on the winter anthology story. There's not a lot of time left. Also, I going to try to go back to my former employer. I'm not getting enough miles with the new company. They're paying me more per mile, but I'm not getting comparable mileage to make more money. Three and a half days to drive 980 miles is ridiculous. Three days to do 300 miles is even stupider (dumber?) (idiotic?). I thought the grass was greener on the other side of the street. Well, in a way it is greener, it just doesn't taste better.

I've read (and listened to it on CD) The Sound and the Fury, but I don't see Kevin that disabled. Plus, I read As I Lay Dying, which has another character who's a little off. Faulkner seemed to have a lot of characters who were a little askew at times. I see Kevin more as a chalkboard that was partially erased by brain disease. A lot of Kevin came through, but quite a few of his thought processes were damaged. I really don't want to get into all of his issues this early because a lot of his problems have been aggravated by other people who assume somethings about him that aren't necessarily true, not that I'm saying who. All of this comes out in the second section of the story, by the way, so I really, really, don't want to say too much about how it all comes out in the end. Oh, and thank you for the suggestion for the Of Mice and Men suggestion, but, unforturnately, I don't read Steinbeck. There's just something about his writing style that reminds me of fingernails on a chalkboard.

Even though I

CJ At the outset, I had a feeling the teller of this tail was that inner voice we all have that is ever the critic and gives us support when no one else will. The senator is at the end of his life and this voice lays his legacy bare. He has a choice; go out like a lamb or a lion. It's good the he finally paid attention. Thanks for the great story. Carl

A few years ago when I was very close to being certifiably insane, I got the idea of having a green gecko (Not the GEICO gecko!) tattooed on my right forearm. It would be done when I had a story published somewhere, anywhere on paper. Needless to say, my arm remains un-geckoed. Then yesterday someone in the higher domains of GA blessed me with a PM, a very important PM. My immediate reaction was quite similar to Doris Lessing

Well, we certainly know where that bruise came from. It's great you had a normal conversation with your dad. Dads can be so irritable sometimes and then we're just plain old dad like you want. And, you care about other people. There isn't a lot of that going around these days so your help is appreciated. Carl

A remarkable woman and a writer on my must read list who probably recognizes there's hell to pay now. Getting the Nobel moves you up a couple notches on the notoriety scale and she was right on with that wonderful statement. Carl

I went to work on Tuesday and drove up to Hermiston, OR, for a delivery in Pendleton Wednesday morning, which I made but was and hour and a half late because I missed my turn because I relied on Gatesian reality and not the directions I received from my company, but it was a nice drive through some pretty countryside, albeit not with a 53 foot trailer following my down the one and a half lane road that bicyclists really like because it's a nice ride through some pretty countryside. Luckily, there were no bicyclists out at 06:00. There was just a lot of dark air hanging around obscuring my vision. According to Gates, I wanted Garden Ave. I came to Golden Ave and thought, "Okay, Garden Ave will be next." NO! I should've gone with Golden. If there hadn't been so much dark air, I might have seen the Coors sign. I didn't. I, also, didn't use the last possible place to turn the truck around and followed the little one and a half lane road that, by the way, had the proper yellow stripe down the middle of it. It took me 45 minutes to drive 15 miles before I found a place where a 53 foot trailer could be turned around. I was probably 5 miles from the freeway and could've gone on if I things couldn't get worse, but things had already gotten worse and I didn't want to compound my problem by possibly coming to a 13' 6" underpass when I have a 14' trailer. So, I deliver the beer and head up to Selah, WA, to pick up a load of apples headed for Puyallup. Then I go home for the night. Yesterday, I took an empty trailer back over the mountains to Selah and dropped it at the apple warehouse. I then went down to Yakima to retrieve another empty trailer at a repair shop, and dropped it at the apple warehouse. I hooked to another trailer and waited for it to be loaded with 20 tons of Galas. I delivered that trailer to the distributor in Puyallup last night. And, I'm home, again. This is nice, except I ain't making no money doing 650 miles in three days. I wasn't given a load last night, so I don't know what I'll be doing today. I'm working on the new book tentatively titled, "Chartreuse." It's going slow, but not so slow that I'm afraid of losing it. I'm on the third chapter. It's not going quite according to plan, though. That's to be expected. Kevin, the brain damaged kid, is growing on me. Well, this is his story, after all. Initially, I planned to have the other characters' narratives tell Kevin's story. That was a great idea, but I ran into situations where Kevin does things vital to the story where he's the only character involved in the action. To convey those situations needs Kevin to be a little less brain damaged than initially conceived. So, Kevin gets a few more lines. Then, there is the problem with the number of murders Kevin will commit. Initially, he was going to kill four, but now I'm thinking he'll only do two. Nick, the bad kid, kills everyone else. There's no problem there. What I need is the possibility of a judge, or jury, depending on whether or not his case stays in juvenile court, finding Kevin innocent of the crime, or to have diminished capacity and be convicted of some lesser charge. If he's found innocent, there's a scenario he will go live with his uncle on a small island in the San Juan Islands in Washington State. If he's found guilty of something, he ends up in an institution of some sort. Either scenario leads to Kevin meeting his nephew thirty-five years later; unless he ends up in a life-term facility, in which case the story comes to an abrupt end before it gets out the door. Well, I better go get cleaned up and see if I have a load to pick up somewhere this morning. Hopefully, it will be something other than a load of apples out of Selah.