It's the end of yet another year and the beginning of a new journey, the time when we tend to sit and look over the things we did, those we didn't do, those we can only dream of accomplishing and make all sorts of lists for what happens tomorrow and beyond, lists most of us will never really adhere to but, hey, it's the thought that counts. I don't have any lists. I've spent the last couple of days without sleep (Okay, I did grab about three this morning) watching my father lie in a state of what can only be called limbo. A couple of days ago he stopped wanting to eat, then took little to drink and then just closed his eyes and he's been there for the most part since. My sister put a chair in his room, first because he wanted to sit up and that didn't work out well, so now we sit there, watching quietly for proof he is still alive, trying to make him comfortable and leaving out the anger at all those who should have cared about this guy but don't, wh

'Grail' is a story that started back in the early 80s. I remember the day it formed in my mind: I was living (Squatting) in a house with no electricity, no gas, only cold water, in the winter time so the showers were fast and freezing. I went to a nearby Safeway to get something and the sky was clouded over, heavy with an impending rain, and I'd just sent off a synopsis for a book to my agent and was already working on another outline about Gods returning to earth, a final war and, as always, a human beings right to choose their destiny. This story was to take place in San Francisco, a fictional version, and was searching for a name. Looking at the sky gave me the inspiration to call this place 'Grayle'.  Stayed that way for about 20 years.  As the story and the characters progressed between actual paying jobs it became imperative that I just call the city San Francisco. I'd been there a couple of times and fell in love with everything it was and still is,

Some believe the world has always been this way, that it's only because of technology we can see all the holes and sores and ugliness of what we presume to call 'Humanity'. Back in the dark ages when we received our news from papers and the 'Big 3' broadcast networks, everything seemed to have a purpose, a reason, and the life we were living was the life we were suppose to have...America was the hero and everyone who disagreed with us were the bad guys, women were meant to stay at home and take care of the house and children and anyone who wasn't white should be grateful for being allowed to take care of those in charge. The power people. When I was a kid I never really thought about racism and bigotry and as I grew I guess I felt a sort of pride about not having those ideas when the truth was I rarely thought about it because I was white. Yeah, I lived on the 'Wrong' side of the tracks and pretty much all my friends were not white, but we were kin

Once upon a time there was this guy and he always thought he was...Different. Thing is, he was. He had several talents and skills and it served him well throughout most of his life because one of those abilities was he could turn off certain emotions, let go of that which makes us human and, instead, can make us into monsters. There are agencies that look for those kinds of people because they're useful and disposable and we rarely ever hear about them until one of them gets loose and does something that makes the news.  One day this guy knew he was at a dangerous cross road in his life and he had to make a choice. He could continue with the way he'd been living, hurting way too many people in the process, or he could learn to be human...Again. He chose the latter and tried to make amends for a lot of damage he'd done in his life. You see, one of the things he knew how to do well was kill and just kind of forget about it afterward. Mentally he knew this was screwed up a