Category Archives: Books

I’m currently in the process of getting my first novel published. I’ll give you the inside scoop of the process.

When Will You Ever Change

A Place Where Time Stands Still

My first drink in the Mauna Loawas much the same as my last drink. It was with much the same folks who were there the last time I was there. And while the people could not possibly have been the identical group of people there the first time they were linked by some mysterious attractant that somehow pulls these like minded souls to frequent the very same place. I was on tour in and passing through Parker, Arizona and pulled over to catch the Super Bowl. It was an out of Mauna  Loa experience. It was as if the venerable institution had beamed its community from San Francisco south some 600 miles and they had gathered for a convention of the like minded. Of course they came with the same fire in their belly to drink, cuss, shout and cheer for a game that seemed to increase in consequence with the sacred consumption of the spirit laced beverages… Your faithful digitally published author is investigating in long form all evidence of impermanence (I use the word change in my blogs…) , its relevance to helping us understand the passage of our life while here, and nothing could be more of consequence in this journey through change than to have that quintessential close encounter of the neighborhood saloon kind and find that in some defiant,
against one of the fundamental truths of existence that at least in one small corner of the Universe…….some things never change. One more for the road barkeep….

For relaxation at night he went to a place called The Tavern, where he shot pool, drank beer, and idled his time away with the hired help. He could always count on a conversation with Leslie, the bartender, and she seemed to like him.

Tonight Noel was drinking Blitz, the local beer. He had been picking at the label with his fidgeting fingers, the metallic scraps
scattered in front of him. Leslie was a less than demure woman. She kept up a constant discussion with customers at one end of the bar and the other. She wore a long skirt that fell almost all the way to the floor. Tucked into the skirt was a tight turquoise blouse, unbuttoned just enough to allow the fullness of her breasts to fill the open neckline. Lovely and fetching, Noel thought.

Highway Home

Ride into a place that change passed by….

No Appetite for Change

Pouilly-fuisse is a French white wine. The vineyards and villages of the region maintain retain a sensibility of the timeless. The countryside is spectacular. Each of the Fuisse regions villages by rule and code are protected from change. Materials and methods of construction must adhere and fit with what is already there. We visited offseason. Was as if we were in a science fiction film, the villages were empty. We knocked on doors, roused the sellers from their private quarters and were able to buy a dozen bottles from one merchant or other. We drove between each village twisting through hillsides. The vineyards were lush green beneath a bright clear blue sky. It was October, the grapes had been harvested. The reddish- orange tan buildings, the red tile roofs, the old brightly painted wooden doors hung with hand forged metal hardware etched in mind a way of life preserved in the present. Some winemakers remain ever vigilant in their efforts to make wine as taught to them by previous generations. As little is changed from one year to the other as is possible, but for perhaps due to weather and sugar content of the grape the winemaker adjusts and adapts to the making of a vintage to the quality and character of that years harvest. And like that it was gone, vanished, we turned onto a highway, drove back to Macon, the spell had been broken, and we had been changed….

   Gentle nights come seldom to the coast, and tonight the ocean off Carmel  Bay was as smooth as a finely crafted wood table. Minimal swells coming home from the sea swooped in, falling on the shore. It had a soothing appeal to their nerves, but then their nerves were taut, each holding back what they wanted to give to the other, kept in, stowed out of sight.

Highway Home

Bound to Change

Foreground same show, Background Different World

You’ll find the world is set up to be unpredictable even if you are adamant about insisting things remain the same. Keep the old cell phone, buy season tickets to the favorite team, don’t trade in the old car, you’re playing the way you like, close, keeping things just the way things ought to be. I had come upon a good formula for a show. Worked it for all it was worth, as long as I could, dialed in, polished it, but didn’t do anything that would alter the approach I had found superior. But, if it wasn’t me, it was the world around me. Something was bound to change and did. The world I’d relied upon to be my oyster had changed and I had to change with it. Of course a show is not a fixed temporal entity. It is alive and evolving and no two performances are ever in all details the same, even when you are trying to slow the rate of evolution, even when you’ve found yourself right where you want to be, there it is, one way or another, as they say, when you look and see change, you are looking at a  defining feature, one of the places in the cosmos where the rules that govern our existence are revelation.

“I’m just now coming out of Palm
Springs, worked there for the winter, didn’t suit me, before that I was going
nowhere living in San Jose, now, I’m headed somewhere,” he laughed,
“got oblivion nipping at my backside and trying to find the guts to make
my mark, while I’ve still got the chance.”

“Slow and steady, how a cabinet is
made,” Kenneth said. “Mighty hard on a young man waiting his turn for
life to finally come his way.”

Highway Home

The More Things of Change…

how does it feel, to be on your own, Like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone...

I loved long playing albums. My first purchase was Highway 61 Revisited. I loved my 8 track stereo player in my 1939 Chevrolet Businessman’s Coupe. I enjoyed my cassette player in my 1967 Ford pickup. I dig my CD player in my Toyota.
I dig my stereo aboard my sailboat where it allows me to hook my Ipod into the system and control my recordings on the pod via the controls on the stereo! I still have some LP’s, cassettes, and compact disc’s. I gave up on the 8 tracks
several revolutions ago on the merry go round of life. I must be a merchandiser’s dream come true having repurchased pieces of music I simply can’t live without. It seems we are doomed to repeat ourselves as we reinvent ourselves all the while trapping in this innovation nothing new whatsoever…in fact the more things change the more things remain the……

Noel couldn’t suppress the thought that she had a spectacular figure. Her shape and bulges were arousing him and invoked a male driven delirium within. All men have this state of mind. All men, from time to time, are driven to the edge of madness by such a simple thing as the figure of a woman. Men do not cultivate lust so much as they find themselves the victim of its forces. These passions can be fleeting and even misguided, but while in the full thrall of this harbinger they can be immeasurable and utterly, irrationally wonderful.

Highway Home

The Tentacles of World Wide Changerizerization

guzzlerizing

What’s invisible, always present, constantly happening, and for the most part something we simply can do nothing about? What do science denier’s know that those science believers can’t understand? When was the last time you changed your mind? I did. Read a story about an Alfa Romeo with a 1.4 liter engine that is said to get 55 mpg and wait for it…….it’s supposed to be fun! At current fuel prices in California “fun” isn’t exactly my carbon debasing atmospheric current most favorite earth destructive activity. If only they had kept the price lower so that I could afford to do more harm! But, no, sorry, can’t do that. I’m not all that against higher fuel prices so much as I am a big believer in smaller more fuel
efficient engines. That way I can enjoy the best of both worlds. First, I can be a head up my (pick your favorite location) and get out there and drive as if it were an unalienable right while at the very same time go zipping down the byways and highways flinging a little bitty Alfa this way and that knowing I’m getting that same old thrill while shaving half the cost from the bill. I find science denier’s really hypocritical when I spot such a soul tootling down the highway in a  electronically injected, computer controlled, variably valve timed advanced engine controlled low emission vehicle that they really have to admit that they love…This is denier in changerizer cycle of the spin mode of the brainwash machine…May the paradox be with you…

There is a twisting four-mile road from the village of Los Osos
to Montaña De Oro near San Luis Obispo, California.
It winds one lane wide through a grove of eucalyptus trees before breaking out
upon a clearing of windswept grassy hills, and then comes to a primitive wood
bridge spanning a small creek that has cut a deep canyon through the Spooner Lane
campground before emptying into the Pacific Ocean.
With the practiced eye of a photographer Noel Sanderson framed shots of the
broad expanse of sea to his right as he drove south down the dirt road in his
Spartan and well ordered 1968 Dodge van.

Highway Home

Changing the Playing Fields….

Big Dreams....Sit Down Take a Load off Your Mind

We work on things. We work on things we are aware of. We can work at different levels. We can work at a job. We can work on ourselves. We can work on our boat. We can join job, self, and boat into one thing and work on all of it at the same time. We can work harder. We can goof off. We can feel satisfaction with our effort. We forget that we know ourselves. We forget our nature. Some days we just seem to be capable of a higher level of effort than other days. The low effort days might be labeled holiday’s, might be we take a working holiday. Where is that interior place located? You know the interior trip to the land of our very own made up inside our imagination extended cognitive vacation. It’s a head-trip, it’s a mind altering revelry, daydream, a flight of fancy…it’s our focus all checked out and our head has hijacked us just one more time, from the moment pretending to offer a no time like the present to come and see what the imagination has made up….and then you realize that none of it is real, nothing of it ever existed, it was all made up, nobody even knows about it, and you go on with your life and sometimes those trips seem more memorable, more vivid than reality…but that’s just advertising hoping you might come back for another visit…

Noel knew he was dealing with a group of
barrel-chested cats playing a tit-for-tat game of sober stares and clipped
banter. He wasn’t going to let their looks deceive him. Noel knew how to play
his own game of intimidation just as well as the next man.

Highway Home

The Quite Changable Hidden Love Life

A City that Lover's Love...

Married and monogamous is one  status. Single, sexually active, dating more than one person a second possible  circumstance you face in life. You are young and inexperienced, you are older  experienced but perhaps due to age lack the opportunities you once enjoyed.  Authoring fiction requires knowing something about what happens to all these  kinds of people. Privacy in matters regarding lovemaking is appreciated. But,  as an author trying to understand the world that lover’s play in requires  getting a third hand account of something done in private between two  consenting adults. I am interested most in how sexuality helps a person, how  they love more, if they do love more, how they sustain interest, how they  understand how long term relationships and sexuality evolve over a longer time  horizon. I am pretty sure I know how my single friends feel about a fling, but  I am much less certain that I am getting good insight into the sex lives of  people who are in long term relationships.

 Leslie had a way of making good tips by
casually sharing her fine form with the customers on the other side of the
counter. Just bending over to pull a bottle of beer out of the ice chest was
cause to give a man a moment of pleasure. There was no harm caused by any of
this. She didn’t mind the guys giving her the eye and the men appreciated the
show.

Highway Home