World's Luckiest Artist

Why did I love and respect my father? - Because he was noble, courageous, funny, kind, creative, and wonderfully optomistic - considering his providing-for-our-family life, and longevity, got crushed by WW2.

Pamela and Gordon, strangely suited for each other, are 2 of my oldest and dearest friends. Toast and Beans was birthed when his truck and her flower garden clashed.

Simply driving Wendy to the airport on the morn of my 50th birthday 20 years ago proved entertaining - entertaining as hell.

When I left Hollywood I felt I was leaving home, for the first time in my life. Why? - Because I belong there, or much of my art does, translated into 44 films. If the gods are kind they will be - before I croak.

Of all the nonfiction volumes I penned I enjoyed this one the most because I got to study Tinseltown up close, outside the studios or no. Americans, truly, are a fascinating lot - almost as eccentric as the Brits, and far, far more ebullient.

My first few months in Hollywood were awash in culture shock: a culture shock intensified by the Northridge Earthquake, which happened a scant 50 days after my arrival.

Even a turn-of-the-nineteenth-century, middle-aged sailor can find love, friendship, and purpose. How? - By being ready for them, and worthy.

FlowerDance is the first of 7 DVDs in a PhotoSymphony I've created, the final 6 only requiring the addition of the consummate music required to match Michael Gillette's guitar virtuosity wedded to the first.

The king of the kangaroos is a no-holds-barred, up-front character that won't tolerate unhappiness in a child: a cutting-to-the-chase healer that becomes a lonely little girl's friend.

Index included, Vignettes, Thoughts, and a Classical Exit is only 165 pages long but oh my is it packed - a fruitcake, like all my fictions. Biographers will love mining it one day, providing I become famous because of it and the 60+ other volumes I intend to self-publish before shaking off this mortal coil.

Giving Vignettes, Thoughts, and a Classical Exit a farewell punctuation and spelling edit 30 years after its execution surfaced 133 corrections. No one but an author can fully understand what a shock, and pleasure, that is.

Writing one's autobiography as it unfolds cuts to the chase; invites authenticity; dances prophetically; and wriggles, occasionally, with embarrassment.

In Part 17 of Gemini, our hero, still riddled with optimism, despite his history and omens, celebrates the end of all his problems just before they, and more, kick in with a will, sending him off on a riotous, poignant, tangential adventure that leaves him, as usual, poor, womanless, and alone save for his beloved dog, talent, and unending hopefulness.

Falling in love with a protege is madness, for it hands them too much power, when they should be in awe of your talents and focusing on being trained in that regard rather than exploiting your vulnerable heart.

I've always been deeply skeptical of divination cards, dice, and bones but oddly enough, the I Ching worked flawlessly for me in Gemini, proving itself unfailingly accurate: so accurate, I've avoided it ever since.

I love road trips, especially ones that celebrate nature and vivisection its human inhabitants, my native land being no exception; for in Yin Shi I'm fleeing for my life via Dusenberg from Ontario to the wilds of a B.C. mountaintop, while being hunted in force by a misinformed and shackled-to-the-letter-of-the-law constabulary.

Even after dining with an angel who's come to encourage one, and give important advice, life tends to go on more or less as per usual, for each of us leaves this world, regardless of experience, a mere onion skin wiser, each time around.

A young bachelor's bond with his dog teaches him everything there is to learn about family life: love, friendship, parenting, and the sacrifice of being in harness - the cornerstones of an enduring ediface.

After writing poetry and short stories for a few years, penning a novel is almost inevitable but a big surprise nonetheless, for it indicates more will follow and I proved no exception, three others following with reasonable dispatch.

Pettyville County wrote itself in 40days; all I did was take down dictation: a seriously exhilarating ride producing what should be recognized as a classic of Canadian, and world, literature, penned 34 years ago and ignored to-date or no.

To cynics, the paranormal is a joke at best but for those whove experienced it firsthand, it ranks with love, friendship, adventure, and creativity as one of the greatest joys of life.

Poets, however much they love their 'babies', must ruthlessly weed out lesser ones. I am no exception, only 174 of the 1000+ I wrote in my youth surviving to become Skookum Gulch.

Writers love poetry, truly consider it the queen of the arts, and I'm no exception. Sadly, it's out of fashion nowadays with the general public, largly due to a ton of it being painfully in-your-face loud and bad, truly good ones necessitating a search few have the leisure to pursue.

In First Car, a mid-60's, lung-threatened teenager experiences culture shock when he's moved from Toronto to rural Ontario for a year, its cleaner air being the reason, and cure.

In Odd Sox a bored, imperceptive white man misjudges Inuit logic, robbing himself of their beguiling humanity.

An artist proposes why he is the world's luckiest writer, inviting all to agree or disagree, after viewing future podcasts of excerpts from 35 of his 55 books.