March 2024

Guitar books from W. G. Sweet

Posted on March 27, 2024 by dello

 Guitar Books

Custom hard body build Kindle Edition

Do you want to build your own hard body electric guitar? Well, so did I and so. I did. I used wood from some… #WoodWorking #CustomGuitarBuild #BuiidAGuitar #Luthier #Kindle

Build a custom acoustic Guitar Kindle Edition

Do you want to build your own acoustic guitar?

I decided to take some of the cast-off parts, put some work into them, manufacture a few parts myself and build a custom acoustic guitar… #WoodWorking #CustomGuitarBuild #BuildAGuitar #Luthier #Kindle 



Demo Dirt Track

Posted on March 27, 2024 by Author Sam Wolfe

Demo Dirt Track #3D #model #3ds

A demo dirt track build I did for a game promo. This is the basic track, car etc. with the logic also programed, I had a blast building this… #GameBuilds #UltimateUnwrap


 Notes from the Edge 03-26-24

Posted on March 26, 2024 by dello

 Notes from the Edge 03-26-24

Thought Bites

About This Blog

This is a medium to post book excerpts and my own thoughts.


You may download Open-Source software completely free of any license fees. Install it on as many PCs as you like. Use it for any purpose – private, educational, government and public administration, commercial…

Pass on copies free of charge to family, friends, students, employees, etc.

Anything I have listed here is software I use myself and have checked out for, in some cases, years. The links are to the official websites only. Once there follow the links to get what you need. There are no charges, no fees ever.

OpenOffice is a suite of tools that equals MS Office. I use it for writing, and I have written more than ten books with it.

·         Writer a word processor you can use for anything from writing a quick letter to producing an entire book.

·         Calc a powerful spreadsheet with all the tools you need to calculate, analyze, and present your data.

·         Impress the fastest, most powerful way to create effective multimedia presentations.

·         Draw lets you produce everything from simple diagrams to dynamic 3D illustrations.

·         Base lets you manipulate databases seamlessly. Create and modify tables, forms, queries, and more.

·         Math lets you create mathematical equations with a graphic user interface.


Puppy Linux enables you to save money while doing more work, even allowing you to do magic by recovering data from destroyed PCs or by removing malware from Windows. Now that vista and XP are no longer supported this OS can replace them. It is supported fully, and all updates are free.

·         CD Executable installs from within your old Vista or XP OS.

·         Full OS

·         No Charge for updates or more copies for other machines.

·         Runs on older or newer systems. Even systems under 1 gig of ram.

·         Includes a wide range of applications: wordprocessors, spreadsheets, internet browsers, games, image editors and many utilities. Extra software in the form of dotpets. There is a GUI Puppy Software Installer included.



Ubuntu is a popular Linux OS that can completely replace the Windows operating system on your machine. I use Ubuntu to do all of my computer related tasks. It is better, faster and more reliable than the Windows OS I once used.

·         Bootable disk with installer. As easy as installing any other software. Just make your choices, answer the questions, that’s it. The installer does the rest.

·         Software, Software and more software. Ubuntu comes with a built-in software installer, manager. Pick the software you want, and it will install it and set it up for you. OpenOffice, Gimp, Audacity, Games, Browsers and much more.

·         Updates are free. No charge for other machines. No licensing fees. Nothing at all. It is free and has long term support.

·         Dell, HP, Lenovo, Asus and many other manufacturers now use Ubuntu.

·         32 bit, 64 bit, or both are available.


Gimp. Gimp is my graphics program of choice. I have paid the big bucks for other top name image/graphics programs, but I have not been as happy with those products as I have been with Gimp. I use it for all of my graphic/image needs. Book covers, Illustrations, in fact all the graphics on this site were made with Gimp.

·         Photo Enhancement. Numerous digital photo imperfections can be easily compensated for using GIMP. Many filters are included. Retouching, Resizing, all the top features you would expect to find are here.

·         File Formats. Gimp can read and save to all the top image formats.

·         Airbrush, Bucket, Pen, Brush, many other applicators included and easily used for your image work.

·         Blur, Soften, Clear backgrounds, Dozens of filters, Layers and much more. The only Image Processing software I use.



A hardboiled #crime novel that follows Billy as he takes a walk to fight boredom and ends up in the middle of a crime. #Money #drugs #Violence #crime #Deadfolks and everything else you would want in a hardcore crime fiction novel…



America the Dead – Before the End 1 Episode 41

Posted on March 25, 2024 by Author Sam Wolfe

This is a feature presentation to fill in between seasons. Something I felt might be appreciated by readers/listeners; it covers the period of time before the plagues and how they got started. This is a nine part series and then season 3 will begin.
All of the material to present season 3 is written but not yet recorded, and it will most likely be recorded as needed for uploads.
#Horror #podcast #listeners #ambersmith #apocalypticfiction #audio #free #zombiesurvival #horrorstories
Geo Dell & Amber Smith


Notes from the Edge

Posted on March 25, 2024 by dello

 Notes from the Edge


Here are some suggested short story collections I and other writers have written, Dell

Alabama Island Short Story Collection

A collection of 12 short stories, including the featured story, Alabama Island.

I heard the soft murmur of its engine running: Some guy and some girl, I thought. #ShortStories #Thrillers #Readers #BookLovers #Drama

Borderline: Collected Short Stories

He thought for a second longer, staring into the dimness, trying to see better. Checked the street; nobody, and then made his way down the alleyway. He bent and looked in passenger window… #Singles #ShortStories #Readers

The Curse of Norwood Middle School: Teenage Adventures of Kelsey (Teenage Adventures of Kelsey Book Series 4)

Kelsey, class president, wants to have a Valentine’s Day dance at the middle school. She takes it up with the school principal after the student council votes that the school should have one – but there is only one problem. Nobody is allowed in the school after dark. The school is cursed. Bad things happen. #YoungAdult #Amazon #ALNorton #ReadersofInstagram

TRUE: True Stories from a small Town #1 Five True Stories… 

The Last Ride. It was a busy Friday night driving cab… #Cab #Taxi #DellSweet #TrueStories #NonFiction

The Christmas Goo (Book Series 3) Kindle

Derik mocks Kelsey for having to go sit on Santa’s lap with her baby sisters and gets caught. As punishment, he has to now join them. Derik is not happy at all. He begins to make fun of Santa in any way he can not knowing the mall Santa can hear him. Is the mall Santa real or not? #ALNorton #ChristmasGoo #YoungAdult #Readerrs #BooksForKids 

Connected: Short Hauls

Harrows Grocery Early Morning The old Chevy idled roughly at the curb across from Harrows market…  #Crime #Thriller #Drama #Readers #ShortStories

Not So Sweet Sarah: Teenage Adventures of Kelsey (Teenage Adventures of Kelsey Book Series 2)

Kelsey has a birthday coming up! She has recently been spending her allowance on starting a porcelain doll collection. All she wants for her birthday is that perfect porcelain doll to add to her collection. Her mom Jenna seems to have found one at an old antique store. When she leaves with the doll, the owner of the store regrets selling it to her.

#ParaNormal #YoungAdult #ALNorton #Readers 

Billy Jingo Collected Short Stories

Billy Jingo contains 22 short stories, from crime to Horror and the title story, Billy Jingo. I started to get back into the truck when he wagged his head and put one finger to his lips. #ShortStories #Readers #Booklovers #Bookworms #Crime #Thriller



Posted on March 24, 2024 by Author Sam Wolfe


Earth’s Survivors: box set Kindle Edition

Earth’s Survivors box set contains
the entire Earth’s Survivors series in one volume. The cities, governments
have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. The small groups of survivors are
growing, branching out in search of a new future. The series chronicles their
day-to-day struggles as well as their dreams as they search out new hope in
their shattered world… #apocalyptic #Horror #PostApocalyptic #Undead


Notes from the Edge 03-24-24

Posted on March 24, 2024 by dello

 Notes from the Edge 03-24-24

I am hanging out watching a murder mystery series on YouTube with my wide (The small town with A BIG Missing Persons Problem….). It is pretty good and thought provoking. We get into these YouTube things sometimes or binging series on Netflix (Just killed Orange is the new Black which I had seen, and she had not seen).

And we have over seventy channels between the two of us that we follow. In the morning, I click to YouTube, and we watch what there is as we work. Today there was nothing, so we choose the crime special from among the possessions.

So, the storm is over? I hope? We’ll see but Ryan Hall Yall says more is on the way.

Cold here near the Canadian border, but it’s always cold here.

I thought I would leave a freer story that is so close to my real life that I published it as a true story with just a few names changed. I hope you enjoy reading it. I sometimes think back to growing up there and wax nostalgic, of course nothing is as it was. What it was was not even the way it really was. Yes, we had a lot of freedom, but that was because our mothers had to work, or fathers in some cases. Either was it left us being raised by one parent. In my case, and most of the kids I hung out with. That meant a drunken father beating our mothers, us, both, rarely ever there, and us needing to escape from that as much as we could.

So, yes, it sounds romantic, nostalgic, but that is how I chose to write it. I don’t want to dwell upon the times that weren’t that way…


It was summer, the trees full and green, the temperatures in the upper seventies. And you could smell the river from where it ran behind the paper mills and factories crowded around it, just beyond the public square, a dead smell, waste from the paper plants.

I think it was John who said something first. “Fuck it,” or something like that,” I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Pete asked?

“Yeah… I think so,” John agreed. His eyes locked on Pete’s, but they didn’t stay. They slipped away and began to wander along the riverbed, the sharp rocks that littered the tops of the cliffs and the distance to the water. I didn’t like it.

Gary just nodded. Gary was the oldest, so we pretty much went along with the way he saw things.

“But it’s your dad,” I said at last. I felt stupid. Defensive. But it really felt to me like he really wasn’t seeing things clearly. I didn’t trust how calm he was, or how he kept looking at the riverbanks and then down to the water maybe eighty feet are so below.

“I should know,” John said. But his eyes didn’t meet mine at all.

“He should know,” Gary agreed and that was that.

“That’s cool. Let’s go down to the river,” Pete suggested, changing the subject.

“I’m not climbing down there,” I said. I looked down the sheer rock drop off to the water. John was still looking too, and his eyes were glistening, wet, his lips moved slightly as if he was talking to himself. If he was, I couldn’t hear. But then he spoke aloud.

“We could make it, I bet,” he said as though it was an afterthought to some other idea. I couldn’t quite see that idea, at least I told myself that later. But I felt some sort of way about it. As if it had feelings of its own attached to it.

“No, man,” Gary said. “Pete didn’t mean beginning here… Did you,” he asked?

“No… No, you know, out to Huntingtonville,” Pete said. He leaned forward on his bike, looked at john, followed his eyes down to the river and then back up. John looked at him.

“What!” John asked.

“Nothing, man,” Pete said. “We’ll ride out to Huntingtonville. To the dam. That’d be cool… Wouldn’t it?” You could see the flatness in John’s eyes. It made Pete nervous. He looked at Gary.

“Yeah,” Gary said. He looked at me.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’d be cool.” I spun one pedal on my stingray, scuffed the dirt with the toe of one Ked and then I looked at John again. His eyes were still too shiny, but he shifted on his banana seat, scuffed the ground with one of his own Keds and then said, “Yeah,” kind of under his breath. Again, like it was an afterthought to something else. He lifted his head from his close inspection of the ground, or the river, or the rocky banks, or something in some other world for all I knew, and it seemed more like the last to me, but he met all of our eyes with one sliding loop of his own eyes, and even managed to smile.


The bike ride out to Huntingtonville was about four miles. It was a beautiful day, and we lazed our way along, avoiding the streets, riding beside the railroad tracks that just happened to run out there. The railroad tracks bisected Watertown. They were like our own private road to anywhere we wanted to go. Summer, fall or winter. It didn’t matter. You could hear the trains coming from a long way off. More than enough time to get out of the way.

We had stripped our shirts off earlier in the morning when we had been crossing the only area of the tracks that we felt were dangerous, a long section of track that was suspended over the Black River on a rail trestle. My heart had beat fast as we had walked tie to tie trying not to look down at the rapids far below. Now we were four skinny, jeans clad boys with our shirts tied around our waists riding our bikes along the sides of those same railroad tracks where they ran through our neighborhood, occasionally bumping over the ties as we went. Gary managed to ride on one of the rails for about 100 feet. No one managed anything better.

Huntingtonville was a small river community just outside of Watertown. It was like the section of town that was so poor it could not simply be across the tracks or on the other side of the river, it had to be removed to the outskirts of the city itself. It was where the poorest of the poor lived, the least desirable races. The blacks. The Indians. Whatever else good, upstanding white Americans felt threatened or insulted by. It was where my father had come from, being both black and Indian.

I didn’t look like my father. I looked like my mother. My mother was Irish and English. About as white as white could be. I guess I was passing. But I was too poor, too much of a dumb kid to even know that back then in 1969.

John’s father was the reason we were all so worried. A few days before we had been playing baseball in the gravel lot of the lumber company across the street from where we lived. The railroad tracks ran behind that lumber company. John was just catching his breath after having hit a home run when his mother called him inside. We all heard later from our own mothers that John’s father had been hurt somehow. Something to do with his head. A stroke. I really didn’t know what a stroke was at that time or understand everything that it meant. I only knew it was bad. It was later in life that I understood how bad. All of us probably. But we did understand that John’s father had nearly died, and would never be his old self again, if he even managed to pull through.

It was a few days after that now. The first time the four of us had gotten back together. We all felt at loose ends. It simply had made no sense for the three of us to try to do much of anything without John. We had tried but all we could think about or talk about was John’s father. Would he be okay? Would they move? That worried me the most. His sister was about the most beautiful girl in the entire world to me. So not only would John move, so would she.

He came back to us today not saying a word about it. And we were worried.

When we reached the dam, the water was high. That could mean that either the dam had been running off the excess water or was about to be. You just had to look at the river and decide.

“We could go to the other side and back,” John suggested.

The dam was about 20 or 30 feet high. Looming over a rock-strewn riverbed that had very little water. It was deeper out towards the middle, probably, it looked like it was, but it was all dry river rock along the grassy banks. The top of the Dam stretched about 700 feet across the river.

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “The dam might be about to run. We could get stuck on the other side for a while.”

No one was concerned about a little wet feet if the dam did suddenly start running as we were crossing it. It didn’t run that fast. And it had caught us before. It was no big deal. Pete’s concern was getting stuck on the little island where the damn ended for an hour or so. Once, john, and I had been on that island and some kids, older kids, had decided to shoot at us with 22 caliber rifles. Scared us half to death. But that’s not the story I’m trying to tell you today. Maybe I’ll tell you that one some other time. Today I’m trying to tell you about John’s father. And how calm John seemed to be taking it.

John didn’t wait for anyone else to comment. He dumped his bike and started to climb up the side of the concrete abutment to reach the top of the dam and walk across to the island. There was nothing for us to do except fall in behind him. One by one we did.

It all went smoothly. The water began to top the dam, soaking our Keds with its yellow paper mill stink and scummy white foam, just about halfway across. But we all made it to the other side and the island with no trouble. Pete and I climbed down and walked away. To this day I have no idea what words passed between Gary and john, but the next thing I knew they were both climbing back up onto the top of the dam, where the water was flowing faster now. Faster than it had ever flowed when we had attempted to cross the dam. Pete nearly at the top of the concrete wall, Gary several feet behind him.

John didn’t hesitate. He hit the top, stepped into the yellow brown torrent of river water pouring over the falls and began to walk back out to the middle of the river. Gary yelled to him as Pete, and I climbed back up to the top of the dam.

I don’t think I was trying to be a hero, but the other thought, the thought he had pulled back from earlier, had just clicked in my head. John was thinking about dying. About killing himself. I could see it on the picture of his face that I held in my head from earlier. I didn’t yell to him, I just stepped into the yellow foam and water, found the top of the dam and began walking.

Behind me and Pete and Gary went ballistic. “Joe, what the fuck are you doing!”

I heard it, but I didn’t hear it. I kept moving. I was scared. Petrified. Water tugged at my feet. There was maybe 6 inches now pouring over the dam and more coming, it seemed a long way down to the river. Sharp, up-tilted slabs of rock seemed to be reaching out for me. Secretly hoping that I would fall and shatter my life upon them.

John stopped in the middle of the dam and turned, looking off toward the rock and the river below. I could see the water swirling fast around his ankles. Rising higher as it went. John looked over at me, but he said nothing.

“John,” I said when I got close enough. He finally spoke.

“No,” was all he said. But tears began to spill from his eyes. Leaking from his cheeks and falling into the foam scummed yellow-brown water that flowed ever faster over his feet.

“Don’t,” I screamed. I knew he meant to do it, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Don’t move,” Gary said from behind me. I nearly went over the falls. I hadn’t known he was that close. I looked up and he was right next to me, working his way around me on the slippery surface of the dam. I looked back and Pete was still on the opposite side of the dam. He had climbed up and now he stood on the flat top. Transfixed. Watching us through his thick glasses. Gary had followed John and me across.

I stood still and Gary stepped around me. I have no idea how he did. I’ve thought about it, believe me. There shouldn’t have been enough room, but that was what he did. He stepped right around me and then walked the remaining 20 feet or so to John and grabbed his arm.

“If you jump you kill me too,” Gary said. I heard him perfectly clear above the roar of the dam. He said it like it was nothing. Like it is everything. But mostly he said it like he meant it.

It seemed like they argued and struggled forever, but it was probably less than a minute, maybe two. The waters were rising fast and the whole thing would soon be decided for us. If we didn’t get off the dam quickly, we would be swept over by the force of the water.

They almost did go over. So did I. But the three of us got moving and headed back across to the land side where we had dropped our bikes. We climbed down from a dam and watched the water fill the river up. No one spoke.

Eventually john stopped crying. And the afterthought looks, as though there some words or thoughts he couldn’t say passed. The dying time had passed.

We waited almost two hours for the river to stop running and then Pete came across…

We only talked about it one other time that summer, and then we never talked about it again. That day was also a beautiful summer day. Sun high in the sky. We were sitting on our bikes watching the dam run.

“I can’t believe you were going to do it,” Pete said.

“I wasn’t,” John told him. “I only got scared when the water started flowing and froze on the dam… That’s all it was.”

Nobody spoke for a moment and then Gary said, “That’s how it was.”

“Yeah. That’s how it was,” I agreed…

Get the book on Apple:



Posted on March 23, 2024 by Author Sam Wolfe


Sex on the Streets (Self Help – Anna Kay Book 1) Kindle Edition

My aunt began to sexually abuse me the first night. It continued the entire time we were there… #SexualAbuse #ChildAbuse #SelfHelp #AnnaKay #nonfiction