GaryKelly

I'd like to thank Nick for throwing a leg over his stallion and riding to the rescue of this particular damsel in distress. And for calling me 'dude'. Hehe. I haven't been called 'dude' in ages. I'd send him a jar of home-made jam (jelly) and oatmeal chewy cookies but he's waaaaaaaaaaaaaay over there in the northern hem. Nick says he likes to serve the Lord. Pardon my hair-splitting but I prefer to call it serving the cause, which is the cause of tolerance and understanding. He's quite the smartie pants for a 16 yo. And NO, that's not being patronising. He included me in his list of friends, which I deem an honor (for an old bloke). And that leads me to the so called generation gap. Gap is cool. I like gaps. Gaps make the landscape more interesting. But Nick is a believer in bridges from what I gather from his blog, and I like bridges too. Bridges are Yeah? Put gaps and bridges together and whadda ya git? Go figure. Meanwhile, Ls and Gs, it's time to post another chapter of Horace Fink and the intrepid Dickson Bottoms. http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

So, what does one do on the Queen's birthday? Silly question...what every queen does...washing. Rattle, rattle, bang, clump, silence. The load's out of balance. Rattle, rattle, bang, clump, silence. Re-arrange load. Nope, no workies. Try several re-arrangements. Voila! Spinning beautifully! That's the prob with centrifical force...balance. Bleh. Forget all the physics, I suspect the real reason is that washing powder is the equivalent of booze in humans. Then, make more pancake batter and bottle it, hang the washing, and resume one's chair at the 'puter. Happy birthday, Betty.

http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

Yes, dear Breth, when I saw a herd of elephants in my yard yesterday I was reminded that I'd neglected to make a new entry in my blog. Don't get me wrong, elephants are cool but... nuff's nuff. Okay, now that I've started this entry what the bloody hell am I gonna write about? How about whiskers? Can anyone tell me what God was thinking when he gave us blokes whiskers? I hate shaving, but I hate whiskers even more. Was Adam created with whiskers? And did he sprout hairy earholes as he aged? I really don't understand all this extraneous hair business, nor do I understand God's motives. Adam and Eve were plonked into the Garden of Eden without fire, tools, toilet paper, deodorant, soap, undies, pencil sharpeners, scissors and all the other essentials. Was it meant to be a joke? Some sort of reality show to test the dummies? Speaking of dummies, how would you describe the religious artists down through the ages that gave A&E navels? Yes, there's so much I don't understand. However, I do understand the human propensity for writing fairy tales.

Okay, we as authors set to entertain, inform and whatever. But when something like this comes along, it can reduce an author to tears...which it did me: Hi Gary, I Hope you don

Yes dear Breth, chapter 14 of Horace Fink is now posted: http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349 Actually, I just finished chapter 28 today after quite a struggle. But, ya know, creating something worthwhile, no matter the effort, is most rewarding. AND PERMANENT! I was thinking today about the mix of GA members, the generational differences, the fossils and apprentice fossils, and it's a wonderful thing...the way the whole world should be. 'From out of the mouths of babes' definitely applies here, wisdom from the rosy cheeked. I think it's fabulous and welcome the exchange of ideas. GA is a most refreshing site as well as a cerebral stimulator. I also bumped into an old friend I hadn't heard from in ages...Nevius, a GA member. He knows me from my wicked past. And here's a thing...one bloke who emailed me a lot (French) was addicted to smilies or emoticons as they're called and I doubted their merit...a lazy way to express oneself. But, since they're made available here on GA I tend to use them...sparingly. They really can supplement one's message in an effective manner.

Before I fergit, I posted chapter 13 of Horace Fink today: http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349 Okies, now about prima donnas and bitchers. During my 'career' in mass media and advertising I met quite a few, which is the reason I would NEVER return to that business. It's way too ego infested for my liking. But, guess what? Yeah, GA has them too...not many, mind you, but a few. That's to be expected, right? PDs and Bs are everywhere. What I wanna know is how NOT to let them get under your skin. It's all very well to ignore them or whatever but until I find a way to ignore a buzzing mosquito when I'm sleeping I guess I've still got a problem. I figure it takes a lot of sensitivity to be an artist of any kind. But how does one turn it on and off? I've heard many actors and other performers say they don't read the reviews and/or critiques. I guess that's one way. Yes, yes, yes, I'll get over it just as I have before and will again. Actually, I feel better already now that I've demolished a hot pancake with home-made lemon butter. Mmmmmm! You want therapy? Get busy in the kitchen. Speaking of which, what's that saying about kitchens and heat? Well, writing is one 'kitchen' I refuse to leave despite the heat...so I guess I'll just have to put up with it. I've had my little rant and I feel better now. A little spleen venting doesn't hurt so long as it doesn't become an obsession. Actually, I responded to a young GA bloke, Mark, whose blog I read. He's a nurse training to be a doctor. He had a bad day in hospital with various dramas and wondered if he was cut out to be a doctor, so I quoted Mahatma Gandhi: You must be the change you wish to see in the world... and I encouraged him to follow his vocation.

http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

Dang it! I was half way though this entry when I went somewhere else and lost it! Grrrr. I was saying how impressed I am with the level of wit and intelligence from members of GA, and that, when I first joined, I expected a whole bunch of girly types in frocks, fishnets and stillettos...and that, despite my disappointment (is it as funny the second time around?) I grew to be impressed by the wonderful peeps here and their awesome contributions. Then I went on to say that Kyle/Cody in Green Room would have loved this site. He began writing stories when he was 15. That's when I lost the entry cos I went to check his website addy. He died in 2001 aged 19, but his site still exists. www.codysworld.net That young scallywag changed my life forever and I owe him big time. Oh, and I also congratulated the peeps responsible for GA knob twiddling...the site is professional, creative and very user friendly. Yes, dear Breth, this is THE site as far as I'm concerned. Okay, so ask me how the potato (cottage) pie went last night. AWESOME! Tonight, I'll do ham and chicken omelets for THEM and pig out on pizza for ME! It's the only chance I get to wrap my laughing gear around all those spicy yummies (of which I add extra). Is this called regression? I used to be quite mature and dignified before meeting Kyle/Cody, but then I degenerated into an eccentric lunatic. But he liked me that way. "Sometimes I burst out laughing in class and everyone wonders what the hell I'm giggling about. Pity I can't tell them." Yeppos, dear Breth, there ain't nuthin' like the confidence boost you get from a special friend who digs you the way you is. "Sometimes you're so fulla shit...okay, a lotta the time...but you're pretty teeny for a fossil." "I wouldn't have enjoyed this past week if it weren't for you, G (I had an indirect influence on his aborting a suicide attempt shortly after I met him), and I want you to know that you own a big piece of real estate in my heart." Yep, I may be a virgin but my heart sure ain't.

Wot dat? Advanced as in years? Dozen madder, it sounds good. And to think I've waited all these years to earn some kinda award. Yeah, feels good too. In this house I get the pancake award cos I make yummy ones. Cooking is my 'other' outlet. Later, I'll rustle up a batch of scones. Hot and fresh is the ONLY way to pig out on scones. And for din dins tonight I'll throw together a potato (cottage) pie soived with steamed spinach. It's true ya know, the way to a man's heart is via his stomach. After that, you can play with his willie. The three local boys I chat to on their way to the school bus get a big dose of silliness from me, and I'm kinda used to the looks I get..."what planet are you from?" But they always stop for a chat and their daily dose of lunacy from 'the bloke who lives on the corner'. They also get choc coated honeycomb, scones, lemon cheese and various other goodies...all home made of course. I'm here to tellya, ladies and genitals, eccentricity rocks. Okies, now that I've been elevated to advanced status, I'm compelled to post another chapter of Horace Fink. And by the way, while I'm thinking about it, I like Camy. I admire wit in a ... er, uh... person. And Camy is a superb wit, albeit a tad modest. http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

That's gobbledegook for chapter 10 of Horace Fink is now posted. http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

Yeah, that's the way one begins, with a blank page. "What the bloody hell can I write about?" But, dear Breth, all a blank page is is a tease daring you to produce something. It becomes a challenge that any author worth his salt cannot resist. Do you know where that saying comes from? Roman soldiers were paid in salt as well as coins. Hoo, hoo, hoo. We've got salt! Miles and miles and miles of salt! Oh it's fine to be a genius of course, but keep that old horse before the cart! Yes, ya gotta have salt! I saw an old Rover drive down the street today...dear old thing from the late 40s. Old cars fascinate me, living monuments to days gone by; technology at its then current peak. I'm inclined to believe that modern cars lack individuality and character...functional, yes, efficient, yes, aerodynamic, yes...BUT, also testament to the rule of technology over art. My old bus is 36 years old...a 1971 Holden Premier that runs like a dream. Its registration plate begins with TTZ, so I call it Tough Titties. It cost me $1000 five years ago and, apart from normal servicing, has cost me zip since. If Betty Windsor visited Oz and requested my chauffeuring her around in old TT, I'd consider it a pleasure. "Do you have Earl Grey on board?" "No, darling, but there's a couple of cans of Fosters in the glove box." Now, lemme tellya something, never take anything as gospel. I started out with a chef's recipe for lemon butter. Mmmm! Yummy! Now, how can I improve on that? So I used the same recipe but substituted cream cheese for the butter (and more of it), and added freshly ground pepper. Whoa! Hey, baby, we're talking genius here! Yes, ladies and genitals, if you think you can do better, go for it.

Yes, dear Breth, chapter 9 of HF is now posted. http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

Lots of peeps sleep in on Sunday mornings. Not this fossil. Up at 6am, exercise for 5 minutes (coughing), switch on computer, boil kettle, take a long pee (by which time the water has boiled), make tea, download email and begin to stir the mental cogs into action (squeak, squeak, grind, grind). Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. Don't you believe it. I'm none of those three. For many years I was breakfast announcer on radio...5am start. "How about you guys chat amongst yourselves while I make a strong black coffee. I have no idea what song I'm about to play because I can't read the damn label yet." One of my pet hates is peeps who are infuriatingly wide-awake and bouncy at sparrow's fart. What's the matter with them? They have no understanding or appreciation of the value of misery. Grumpy is cool! Actually, grumpy is fun. Did you see the BBC series 'Grumpy Old Men'? It was followed by another series; 'Grumpy Old Women'. My favorite comedians are grumpy...Walter Matthau was a superb grump, and one of the funniest guys who ever trod the stage was Jack Benny...he never laughed, rather he always gave the impression that he didn't understand what the audience was laughing at. Yes, the man was a classic grump and the master of the pause. "This is a stickup. Your money or your life! (Pause). Did you hear me? Your money or your life! (Long pause) YOUR MONEY OR YOUR LIFE!" "Yes, yes, yes...I'm thinking about it." Yes, dear Breth...never underestimate the value of being grumpy.

I posted this on a forum but it was rejected because it smacked of spamming. Fair enough. That was not my intention...I just felt elated and wanted to share it, so the blog is probably a more appropriate venue. Here goes...I received this email today about Green Room, the free story posted on my web site (and also Nifty): www.kellytrader.com Mr. Kelly: Wow is probably all I can say to this story. The characters, the plot, everything comes alive as you begin to read this story. You laugh like Kyle, you hurt like Brett, you love like Rick, and you cry like Graham. The whole story brings about a spectrum of emotions you've never known could exist altogether at one time, and your appreciation for life, love, and all the little things grows after reading this story. You feel a part of Byron Bay, of the characters' lives; you assimilate into their culture, their dialogue, their habits, and you grow with them as you read. Every character is multifaceted, rather than flat like so many writers make them. The plot takes twists and turns, but stays continuous with details the whole time. I have to commend you for this amazing work, it is something that has opened my eyes to so much of life I never saw