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

Now who was it that gave Horace Fink a 5-star review? I'm too excited to remember...bondwriter, I think. Anyway, I was thrilled to bits. What's an author without an audience? I've heard often that books are an author's children, and I agree. I taught mine not to dribble, say dumb things, and to blow their noses before seating themselves at the dinner table. I was invited to Sunday lunch one time at a friend's house and their two little boys had GIANT candles hanging from their noses. PUH-LEEEEEEEEEEEASE! Ew! So...chapter 7 of Horace is now posted: http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349 AND...you'll never guess...I just bumped into Bob the Bikie on whom the character Bob Down is based. He's back in town for the day and I told him about his inclusion in the Horace Fink story. BUT, he also told me some extra stuff about his 'secret' past. Pity he was in a hurry because I'd love to quiz him about certain things. And yes, Bob Down is a real person. In fact, most of the characters are based on real life peeps. AND THEN I noticed a 4WD hitched to a HUGE luxury caravan parked out front of my house. Ooer! That's a biggie! (I've been known to say that before but for a different reason). So I got to talking to Steve, the owner, and he told me quite a deal about his meanderings. BUT... guess what he was before taking to the road? A shearer, among other things, and ... an apiarist! If you've been reading Horace Fink you'll know that bees are a feature of the story. So I quizzed Steve about that. Yes, dear Breth, today has proven to be most fruitful in the 'research' department.

It's 7:20am and I'm adding another entry to my blog? A bloke's not the full quid. But I need to get the fingers and gray soup happening before I finish #27 of Horace Fink. Sooooooo, what is a gay author? An author who writes about gays or an author who IS gay? Silly question, I know, but like I said it's early. To my knowledge, Agatha Christie never murdered anyone in real life so maybe that's the answer. I figured out that I'll need to buy a new globe for the loo in 27.3 years. It's one of those new fangled long-life ones that last 10,000 hours. Soooo, if the bulb is used for an average of 1 hour a day (max) I'll be about 90...I'd better write myself a note so I don't forget. The power company had a promotion at the mall yesterday and I got a box of 6 globes for zip. By the time I use them all I'll have set a world record for human longevity. Meanwhile, I'm endeavoring to set a record for silliness. :wacko:

"Drugs are easier to get, cheaper and more potent...the war is lost." So says an expert on a current affairs program airing at the mo. Meanwhile, the pollies argue in ivory towers that have nothing to do with grass roots. It's a worry. Actually, it's pathetic. The interviewee goes on to say, "ask yourself where is the easiest place to get drugs? And the answer is in jail." Why any kid would want to put sand in his fuel tank or f**K with the mother board of his computer is beyond me. WE ARE WHAT'S BETWEEN OUR EARS, BABY, DON'T MESS WITH IT! Mind you, just about everything else messes with our brains...the environment, the home, the people we know, what we read, what we see....everything. How much of that cerebral input do we consciously choose to accept or reject? And what is it that actually influences our ability to choose or reject? Hehe. Whoa! Almost every morning I chat with three brothers on their way to the school bus...boys of 10, 12 and 15. One of them mentioned brainwashing the other day and I responded by saying, "we're all brainwashed to some extent, but we're not consciously aware of it". Yes, how can we possibly avoid the effect of whatever influences that may surround us? We're born with a mental vacuum and I don't know that we are capable of separating the good from the bad, or possess the ability to judge the difference. Hmmm, this is all a bit melodramatic. Tellya what...if they could figure out a way to put humor in a pill we'd all live longer...and happier. Meanwhile, I posted chapter 6 of Horace Fink today. http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

I like the word 'piffle', not that I use it often...actually, this could be the first time ever. Piffle, piffle, piffle. Nancy, my grossly overweight neighbor from a few years ago, used 'piffle' occasionally. She wore outrageous hats...big ostentatious floppy things with bows and flowers and assorted wobbly bits. She was known locally as 'the hat lady'. One time I turned an old gas copper washer into (what I thought was a brilliantly creative) planter pot, and moved it to her side of the yard for extra sun. "Get that monstrosity out of my sight!" she bellowed. Nonethless, we became friends. Words are fun and, at the risk of upsetting the literary establishment, one can fool around with 'credibility' and change it to 'crebidility', or 'similar' to 'simular' or 'pedestrians' to 'pedestrainians' or 'humidity' to 'humididity' or 'Australia' to 'Australalalia'. Constrabilge, zararee, thidge and others were words I invented as a child to compete with grown ups. One time I took a grocery list down to the local shop in an attempt to mimick my mother's grocery lists. Mine was unfathomable scribble, but not to me. I felt incredibly mature. Camy (who introduced me to 'piffle') also mentioned that he was enjoying The Inevitable Murder of Horace Fink. But I'm used to that kind of praise and endless clamoring for autographs and embarassing adulation. *Ahem* No...I appreciate complimentary assessments from talented glockenspiel players and authors like Camy. I use American spelling despite being antipodean...I'm loathe to confuse the poor little dears (and got tired of endless northern hemispherical attempts to correct my English). I think I read somewhere that the Poms added the 'u' to color and labor (for example) in order to tart up the lingo to compete with the more sophisticated parlez vous across the channel. However, I am a fan of 'g'day' because it doesn't require an answer. It doesn't work with all Aussies...some reply 'well, thanks' or 'pretty good' even though you haven't asked them anything. Some people... I'll leave it to you to determine whether this entry is piffle or waffle or both. In my last life I was involved in the sow's ear business. AND, before I fergit, I posted chapter 5 today: http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349

Thanks to Camy, I now know the meaning of Lexicon. Nope...it's not a Toyota and it has nothing to do with some crook trying to pinch your Lexi. So, there ya go, ya learn something every day. Also, while I'm in a mood, Myr helped me with formatting The Inevitable Murder of Horace Fink on eFiction (to delete the dark blue background). He must be a genius, that bloke. Is he responsible for the programming on GA? The site is incredibly user friendly (even for fossils). BTW, due to overwhelming demand (yeah, right) I posted chapter 4 this morning. http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349 Speaking of geniuses, I spent some 18 months chatting via email to the Bulgarian Bombshell. I boasted that I did one those IQ thingies on the internet and scored 129 (next time I'll do it sober). So, the BB tried it and scored 145. Grrrr. And he was just 15 at the time! Double Grrrrr. Yes, a very smart lad who was recently offered a scholarship in California to study English Lit. He had a crush on me at one stage and I had to do some fancy Fred Astaire footwork to avoid his adolescent infatuation. Scary stuff! But, like all things, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...back to being 'Gary Who?' Blogs are cool provided one has something to say (or the ability to dress up nonsense to resemble something intelligent). I have no diplomas, no medals, no awards, no nuttin'. I left school at 14. Whatever knowledge/skill I might have I've plag...uh...gleaned from doing it the hard way. I figure if one learns from one's mistakes then go make a whole bunch of the damn things. One morning, the relief manager of a radio station where I worked as breakfast announcer walked into the studio and asked where everybody was. Everybody? You're lookin' at him, darling. She was amazed that I was announcer, news reader, programmer, producer, panel operator, receptionist and tea maker. "You must have been to the school of hard knocks," she said.

Yeah, right... be careful what you click. I happily did the mouse trick a couple of times today and accidentally deleted stuff. "Gimme that back!" "Too late!" "But I need it!" "Be more careful next time!" Bleh. You know those little 'are you sure' windows? I need about ten of those. Myr went to a lot of trouble to sort out my 'skin' prob with the posted story on eFiction. He fixed chapter one and told me how to fix the rest. Click! *Poof* Gone! My housemate and his missus will travel to England in early August to see rellos, so on his shopping list was a farting keyring. It doesn't even sound like a fart! But he wants to do the fart thing on board the airplane. Hmmm. Small things... Now you understand why these guys are in my care. I made fish cakes today, with tuna and the usual onion, egg, herbs, butter, mash potato, grated lemon rind and whatever. Mmmmm! Cooking was never a big deal until I became a carer for these two... now I cook every day, and have developed an interest in the culinary arts. It's fun! Hey, Peking Duck is outta my league, but I'm into tasty and interesting recipes provided they ain't TOO complicated. And I've learned a lot. Trust me, knowing how to cook is a big plus. Even my dog agrees...right Kelly? "Woof!" Why am I telling you all this? It keeps my fingers nimble. I'm a chatterbox...an incorrigible one. My mom told me as a kid that if I didn't stop talking I'd run outta voice. Oh? It didn't stop me. The thing I love most about a blank page is that it cries out to be filled, and forces you to THINK. One sentence leads to another, and another and so on, and before you know it you're espousing profundities that would otherwise have never occurred to you! Whoa! Did I say that? I don't think I'd be into writing as much as I am if I were restricted to the hammer, chisel and rock thing. I'm sure those guys didn't bother with fish cake recipes considering the labor involved. But this whole computer/internet thing has revolutionized literary communication. I might be a fossil but I've embraced this new technology with uninhibited enthusiasm. Should I shuddup now? Okay. Bye.

I added a few friends to my blog today...Camy because he's a cheeky Pom, Jack Scribe because he bends over backwards (note, not forwards) to be of assistance to newbies, and ... well, I shouldn't mention his name just yet cuz he needs to approve my listing him as a friend. He's picky like that. I've been somewhat involved in other blog sites where EVERYBODY wants to be your friend, not because they like you, oh, no, but because of something they call NETWORKING. Ugh! How ikky and heartless! Not for me, thank you very much. Nobody gets to cuddle me without showering first...and using lots of deodorant. Shallow friends I can live without...had way too many of those in the past as it is. "You only want me because I make awesome pancakes with lemon cheese!" "No! That's not true!" "Yeah, right." :-P In my younger days (and there's no shortage of those) I took life very seriously. Now I realize that life is only a brief visit...that there are billions of extinguished lives that we'll never know about. So, I figure that life should be taken with a (rather large) grain of salt, and that one should endeavor to make one's visit as pleasant as possible FOR OTHERS. Humor to me is numero uno...it smooths the bumps. Equally important is using whatever talent one possesses to leave a mark, evidence of one's having existed and evidence of one's having made a worthwhile contribution. Ooer! That sounds a bit serious! Sorry. I have a young mind...some might say flippant and even juvenile. Well, bugger them...that's their problem. There are no methods (currently) to keep the bod young BUT there are ways to keep the mind young. Yes, dear Breth, if you don't see the curtains fluttering you know the window is shut.

Okies, I bowed to incredible pressure from millions of GA members and posted the first chapter of TEMOHF. BUT, dumb dumb here made some kinda boo boo cuz it's got a dark blue background and I couldn't find a way to GET RID OF IT! So I contacted GA to ask why. The story is posted in eFiction. I've written 26 chapters so far, so be patient...all will be revealed soon enough. Actually, the story is not finished yet but I anticipate the final chapter sometime around July. I generally write about two a week. (I since went ballistic and posted the first 3 chapters). http://www.gayauthors.org/eficiton/viewstory.php?sid=349 Prawn cutlets tonight with CHIPS! I love chips WHEN THEY'RE COOKED PROPERLY! If you want the chef technique for 'perfect chips' just holler. I plagiarized it from a cooking program on tele. Yes, ladies and genitals, plagiarism rocks (unless somebody steals my stuff). Plagiarism? I suppose we're all guilty of a form of semi-plagiarism in that we're influenced by all manner of things, including the writings of others. Yes, I know, it's not a direct steal...BUT... :pickaxe: God's the only bloke I know who did the 6-day trick and created something unique. Have you noticed the religious pics that show Adam and Eve with belly buttons? Oops! I really can't see God doing the umbilical cord thing. I'm also amused by religious paintings of saints with halos gazing at the heavens. It was all very well when the earth was flat, but when you're sticking out from a ball in space you might be gazing in the wrong direction! 'HEY, YOU IDIOT, I'M OVER HERE!" Don't get me wrong, dear Breth, I'm not a cynic...well, not entirely. As a writer and observer, I will be forever grateful for the existence of humanity. It not only provides me with an audience but also with an inexhaustible supply of scenarios.

An Aussie singer/musician of Aboriginal extraction (with a splash of Irish) was interviewed the other day about his music. The entire interview was interesting but what really struck a chord with me was the man's Aboriginality and his love of the land. I'd love you to come out, my friend, and just experience that. And the majesty of a night-time, looking at the night sky and that feeling, that total spirituality. The quietness. Like, you can feel infinity touching you. That last sentence really got to me. I've often thought that communicating with the universe is something very personal and intimate, with no distractions...rather like entering a church alone without all the babbling congregation, pulpit bashing and some organist giving the Wurlitzer a hard time. Just you and 'it'. I can imagine a feeling of oneness with nature in the silence of a starry night in the wilderness, and I intend to experience that for myself when I tour Oz in my caravan (trailer). I'm by no means a fan of man-made religion, churches, mosques, temples or other attempts to create an artificial spiritual environment. As art forms, they are clever and admirable, but they don't possess the magic of a natural spiritual environment that embraces you as an integral part of the whole. Out in the wilderness (so called because it lacks bright lights and Coca Cola signage) one doesn't drop to one's knees and pray, rather one senses a personal welcome, an elation, and a feeling of belonging (as an equal) to the family of all existence. That's what I intend to experience, and attempt to describe it in my journal. The Aborigines for 40 or 50 thousand years were not subservient to nature or 'the dreaming' but, instead, were partners and equals who respected their environment and treated it accordingly. I find the idea of a God we should fear and worship utterly ludicrous. Amen.

Coming Undone says I sound like a helluva bloke and that, at least, I made him laugh. Always the joker a friend once told me. Well, yes, humor rules. Helluva bloke? I dunno about that. The only time I stand out is when all the other passengers in an elevator leave...and that's why I rely on the keyboard to put my mind on exhibition. There's a helluva lotta weirdo stuff that goes on in there that's not apparent when I'm standing in an elevator watching the various floor numbers light up on the panel. This is just a shortie to thank CU for his much appreciated comment.