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                                                   Book Chat

Visit Rod's new website for the latest "Book Chat":

Please enjoy our new and growing collection of interactive forums.  There are three forums below, pick the one that applies most to your question/statement and share with us!  When sending a question, please include your name and the city and state in which you reside.  Ask Rod a question: Email

Ask the Author forum:  
Here, ask Rod anything you like, upcoming releases on books a personal question anything!


Aruva Loi from Detroit Mich., asked:
When will your next nonfiction real estate book be coming out?  I have been waiting ever so patiently for it.

Hi Ms. Loi.  The book, "How to Buy and Flip Real Estate for a Profit," should be out in February 2002. Please look for it in a bookstore near you or on-line.  Thanks for the question and God bless.


An e-mail from unknown, from India asked:
I'm very interested in receiving your book "The Way of the Cosmic Fist," please send it to me or let me know how I can get a copy.

Dear ?, you should be able to obtain a copy of the book wherever books are sold in your area, or at the on-line bookstores on the web.  Or, if you like, from our website.  I hope this helps, please let me know if there's anything else we can do for you?


Janet Caldwell an Author from: Unknown, wrote:

Hello Rod,

I just wanted to say welcome, before all the ladies have a fit over you and fill up your message board. :) I hope that you enjoy your stay at:

Hi Janet:

Just wanted to write you and personally say, "Thank you," for the wonderful sweet note, thank you so very much. It's always nice to share with other artists.  Write back any time and God Bless.

With kind regards,

Book Chat discussion forum:
Here you can ask Rod about his currently published books, give a review on one, share your success's, talk about other good books you've read etc.


Michael Starr from Carrollton, Tx., called in a Success Story:
I really enjoyed your book "How to Buy and Flip Real Estate for a Profit,"  I really got a lot out of it.  Thank you


Amy from Austin,Tx., gave a Success Story:
Oh, my gosh, this was the story of my life!  I really loved your book "A Lost Innocence!"

Thank you Amy, I hear that alot about this book, I'm so glad you enjoyed it.  It's nice to hear.


Wendall Folbs from Ft. Lauderdale, Fl., gave a Success Story:
I really liked your book "How to Buy and Flip Real Estate for a Profit,"  thank you.

Thank you so much Mr. Folbs so glad to hear it, please let us know if there's anything else we can do for you.


Arnold Goldstein from San Bernardino, Ca., wrote a Success Story:
I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed your main course, it has been the best one I've ever read ever, thank you.

Thank you Mr. Goldstein and I wish you more success in the near future.


Matt Andrews from Lutz, Fl., wrote a Success Story:
I wanted to say that your book (How to Buy and Flip Real Estate for a Profit), was really good, you got right to the point and really showed how to do it.  You really made it look as if I could really do it.  Thank you.

Thank you Mr. Andrews, I'm so glad that it has helped you get started, call us any time.


Brian Whitely from Salisbury, MD., wrote a Success Story:
I just wanted to say thank you for your course, it is really good and I've learned a lot from it.  It has really helped me get started, thank you so much.

Mr. Whitely, thank you for your success story, I'm glad to hear it.  Please let me know if we can help you in the future?  All the best.


Trixie Love, from Chicago, IL., wrote:

In reference to your poem at:, so beautiful so heartfelt.

Excellent write,
Trixie Love

Regina Pounds, from: Unknown, wrote:

As Janet noted: In reference to your poem; beautiful sentiment!  Oddly appropriate for those in love.



Al Barton of Tampa Bay, Fl., wrote a Success Story:
Your main course was really good, I really enjoyed it and got a lot out of it.  It really handles the financing problems.  Thank you.

Mr. Barton, thank you for your success story, I'm glad to hear it.


Vinicio Rousselin of Marietta, Ga., gave a Success Story:
I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed your book, "How to Make Fast Cash in Real Estate with No Money Down Deals!"  It was really good and I am using the information, it has proven very helpful to me, thank you so much.

Thank you Mr. Rousselin.


Watie Akins from Mattapoisett, MA wrote:
I am very impressed. The  book "The Way of the Cosmic Fist," is extremely accurate and holds a lot of knowledge regarding Tai Chuan Tao and can definitely be used as a tool. The authors dedication to this beautiful art is obvious. A must have for your library.


D.R. from Clearwater, Fl. wrote:
Reading your excerpts, and really knowing ''who you really are" has rekindled my purposes in the arts, and a lot more. I had realizations reading material on this site that have blown large charges of upsets for me, and for that I am forever grateful. I have so much to say, and I simply wish you were here to express to you my unguarded feelings, tears and all. I just need to let go, and really trust myself, as I have all of the knowingness and abilities to accomplish all that I desire and really want to do in life. Again, thank you for ''Being There!"  It is an honor to know you, you are a true ''King of Kings'', as am I. My love, my admiration, my feelings of pure joy goes out to YOU!

Thank you so much, I can not tell you how much this validation has "moved me," thank you and I wish you well.


Paul Curren from Derry, NY Ireland wrote:
In reference to your poem " My Shadow Through Time," on "," "I could still feel her there". Sometimes I feel like the past is so near too. Cartoons I watched as a child are still fresh in my mind years later.


Eileen Waldron wrote:
In reference to your poem " My Shadow Through Time," on ""  Oh yes...soulmates are forever...lovely write...


TKD wrote:
In reference to your article in TNT magazine (Bringing Philosophy Back Into the Martial Arts),
I agree with several things pointed out in your text.
Some people train martial arts because it's a cool thing to say. Their friends might think they know a lot, but the truth is so different. Some of them start training because they are fascinated or better said obsessed with martial arts movies. They think it is enough to watch a movie to become a martial artist, and when they eventually start training, they get bored with all the techniques they have to do over and over again. They are not aware of the fact that 10 repetitions of a certain technique does not qualify them for anything, Then, there are people who want to compete, but after the very first fight they realize that real fighting is one thing, and movie fighting something completely different. And of course, there are students who take it really seriously and it is an enormous pleasure to train with them. I myself am a taekwondo instructor and have my own club. I had the chance to train with a Korean master, black belt 9th dan. I was impressed by his training's and the way they were organized. But to be honest, I learnt to appreciate all that in the club where I started training TKD. My instructor is a really good one. He pays attention to many details and all aspects of martial arts. So, it can be said that I was actually lucky to have been given the chance to train with someone like that for years.  I use many things I learnt from my instructor and from that Korean master in my own club and with my students. I am glad to say that they, or the vast majority of them, take TKD seriously. And as we move along, and start with more difficult and more demanding techniques, they are happier. They ask many questions all the time, which is great. But I have to say, that I used to have several students who did not fit in, and whose motives were completely different than the ones of the rest of the students. I put up with them for a while; hoping they would come to their senses, realize some things after spending some time in a healthy taekwondo environment, but to no avail. All efforts were in vain. So, I actually kicked them out. I don't know how you will understand this, and if someone might hold it against me, but there was no other choice. My students also agree with what I did. I don't think that martial arts could ever die out. It's impossible. Although there are many bad stuff in the world, like materialism, drugs... I still think that there is, and that there always will be, a group of people who understand the importance of leading a healthy life, being humble and training martial arts for all the right reasons.


W. B. from Austin, Tx. wrote:
Congrads on the book!  Im speechless!  You rock!

Thanks for the kudos' and feel free to e-mail me anytime. :)


William Toy, from Missouri called in a Success Story:
I really enjoyed the book  "How to Make Fast Cash in Real Estate with No Money Down Deals!" It really gives a lot of solutions, thanks.

Thank you Mr. Toy, glad to hear it.


Industry Topic discussion forum:
Why Write?
So are you a published author or would like to be one.  Why?  What are the reasons why people write?   
Is it compulsion, ego?  Is it the desire to tell one's story, make your mark in the world, seek fame and fortune, become a celebrity, educate, inform?  Is it imbedded in you so deeply that its just the same as breathing?  Is it the incredible urge to create, to follow your passion.  Here you can tell us, exchange your authorial dreams with others.  Likewise are you an actor, dancer, artist etc., if so share with us, write a poem, anything you like!

Julia Bychkova, from: St. Petersburg, Russia wrote:
I wrote this poem before I found my way, some years ago, when I felt that there was something above or behind ordinary life, like anticipation of happiness.  Why write?  A poem is a wave, a vibration you add to the world, and it's a part of yourself.  For me it's a powerful flow I just can't keep inside.  It's always worth it to express your inspiration. Some years before, I thought I couldn't sing.  Then a great friend of mine, a leader of a chorus told me, "We accept everybody."  "OK," I thought, "if I spoil their chorus," first it was her who accepted me. :-)  I was singing with them for a year, and finally I was able to sing on the stage, and play the flute on stage, and it was so great, (not professionally though),... So, just do it... And it is sometimes good if somebody gives you the right push at the right time.

My Silver Light

A glance of invisible eyes, A song of not-kissing lips, A dance of illusory years.  Here is a silver call, My silver flight,
My silver light.

Vzglyad nevidimyh glaz, Pesn' neslivshihsya gub, Tanets prizrachnyh let.  Moy serebryany zov, Moy serebryany vzlyot,
Moy serebryany svet.

by Julia Bychkova


Claudia Perez from Hollywood, California wrote a poem:
I was thinking of holding you soon…Then somebody else wrote about you.  I was disoriented.  Transfixed by a moment of misunderstanding.  Thinking of you nightly, visiting you during the midnight hours, and beckoning you during life times hasn't been enough…?

I was thinking of you in the shadows, eyes closed lips parted, and imagining all the things that could be,
were you to decide once and for all, the thing, which you have known for ever…That you love me.

by Claudia Perez


Thom Severtson from N. Hollywood, California wrote:  A Writer, I Believe...
As a writer, I believe my job in life is to perceive the truths that hide behind the strife that masquerades as daily life and cast these seeds of truth abroad like wheat to the hungry hearts of god.

As a writer, I believe my duty calls me to conceive of brighter possibilities than common sensibilities would convince the common man are the best he can command.

As a writer, I believe that to dissemble, to deceive my readers is to nurture hate, to urge that life disintegrate
instead of growing tall and grand as the sane wish all would planned.

As a writer, I believe that there is greater strength in love and beauty than in all the spears, the martial drums, the foreman's fears that fill our bloodstained history and when at last the battle's done it will have been the pen that won.

by Thom Severtson


Helyn Dunn from Clearwater, Florida wrote a poem: Willow

I was lost in a forest of stars, In a distant galaxy, Surrounded by an abyss, In some strange black hole in time, Where seconds danced into eternity, Where I could see the past, And all that was to come.

This must be called a thought, I thought, How new, how strange, enchanting, Just then I saw, I felt, I knew, A beingness ever-granting, Aglow with understanding.

You led the way, To some new world, Where I could step onto a Bridge, To reach some freedom at its end.

Looking back, I think I thought, This must be called a friend.

by Helyn Dunn


Scott Weible from N. Hollywood, California wrote a poem: If That Was The Price

--if that was the price for your love, i would be happy to pay it
--i would be happy to go to the place where all the money is made and steal it
--i would be overjoyed to grind my fingers to the bones to buy more of you
--if that were the price, there could no end to my toils, my labors, my sweat

--if there were no price, i would make the world glow with beauty, the seas team with fishes,
--i would raise up armies of loving children in your image, and send them to do your bidding
--i would become as the servant to Hera, the worshipers of Diana, that man hopelessly pining for Juliet
--if there were no price, if you would give me you for naught, i would celebrate my rebirth at each new moment

--each new moment in the Sun, each instant laying silently in the path of your moist silent breath,
--each day that i arose and felt the blessings of your company, tended the flowers for your boudoir,
--and at each instant would we generate the newness that repels all nay sayers, cancels all doubts,
--renders the harmful, ineffectual, the negative of no concern, and improves the good to better

---if there was no love like yours, i would find a companion, i would not be alone, i would live on,
---but i would not know the serenity of your soul, the imagination of your lust, that open hearted beauty,
---that guides me daily throughout my tasks, giving my purposes some point, my goals a reason,
---if there was no love of you, the birds would still sing, the skies still be true blue,
---but, paler and more wan than the brilliant hues that give my life it's color, it's verve, its daily bread

Copyright 2002, by Scott Weible
All Rights Reserved.


Judy Adams from Walworth, Wisconsin wrote a poem: The Age before the Woe

The Age before the Woe

Have you thought about it ever?
Regret so strong you feel?
For all the things one should have done,
And for the broken seal?
The seal was for promises
We made so long ago,
In a time we were all close -
An age before the woe.

Unforeseen were other views,
The kind that want to halt
All good things we agreed to have,
Believed to be our fault.
Our sights were altered - forces bared,
Till we turned into foe,
After the time we were so close -
The age before the woe.

We carried on with wayward plans,
In order to be right.
And created chaos in that time
To the enemies delight.
Some of us were not afraid
And finally told them no -
But the deed was done and the seal lost,
From the age before the woe.

Since that time some tried to find
The answer to a prayer.
Beseeching gods to free their souls -
True knowledge unaware.
But just one look at what occurred
Will give us thought to know
We can once again be close
As the age before the woe.

by Judy Adams


Tom Fair from Altadena, CA. wrote: WHAT IS AN ARTIST?
(C) 2002 by Tom Fair
(original issue: 16 Dec 1987 to 4 Jan 1988; revised 11 July 2002)

There are sectors of society in which the artist is a vague and faraway, even fabled figure. It's all dependent upon the viewpoint.
In the stew pot of my old Bronx neighborhood one looked upon art as something stored in mothballs in museums. No one ever made anything in real life in our neighborhood: The fathers worked at some humdrum job, the rent was paid and at Christmas time, toys appeared like magic in the stores. Actors and actresses all lived in that faraway place called Hollywood where all one ever did was sing and dance, making movies and TV specials. On University Avenue, one didn't get to meet or know an artist personally; and to be an artist was just wishful thinking; but you could get out your paint-by-numbers box and make something pretty to look at on a rainy afternoon.

Meanwhile, in truth, the long fingers of Eternity had been stretching far and wide, now reaching with gentle strokes to scratch the itch of a wondering mind on those bleak Bronx streets. For didn't the shoemaker down the block look as if he'd stepped out of a tale by Hans Christian Anderson? And didn't the murky, greasy Harlem River appear as wide and handsome as the mighty Mississippi to a boy of ten? Walking stealthily, an intruder between rows of stone busts in the University's Hall of Fame, one clearly heard the echoed voices of great inventors and statesmen urging him on to the path of discovery. The pages of innumerable books crowding library shelves led one to break trails with adventurers as diverse as Harriet Tubman and Marco Polo; and the trials of the school Science Fair brought one to the realization that electricity was not the sole property of the Consolidated Edison company, but a force to harness and apply - perhaps to building robots in one's basement. Indeed, if one were to look closely, he would find the seams of his sleepy neighborhood bursting with the energy of countless creations, recorded as history...or begging to be born!

The factor that makes something remarkable of something scarcely worthy of note is viewpoint. It is the individual's consideration that something is glorious and indispensable. I have known persons who found beauty in castaway tires and rusty iron window gates. One fellow would rush around town in a battered old pickup truck collecting such items, take them home to his warehouse loft, weld them together into a structure ten feet wide and twenty feet high, stand back eyeing it for a suspenseful moment-and-a-half, and then ask you, with his chest sticking out and his chin way up in the air, "Well - how do you like it? Should bring a fair price, eh?"  This fellow, whether one likes it or not, is an ARTIST.  

He is of a special breed who, while others are concerning themselves with blowing the hell out of the enemy, or building a thousand new missile bases to prevent that enemy from decimating the home front, is searching for ways to make his immediate environment a little bit brighter, livelier, more interesting. While another fellow sits in a drab, windowless office, wearily counting  up six-digit numbers to save his company's wealth from the prying fingers of the tax collector, the artist is cheerfully mixing his colors, experimenting with new rhythms. One fellow makes a life of poking around and through the human body, slicing, injecting, siphoning, grafting; the other stands thoughtfully on the edge of a desert and proclaims that a city will rise there.

In these comparisons we have the basic difference between common man and the artist. It matters not which medium is used. It matters not whether the artist personally handles the materials of his creativity or directs others in building the entity he has decided will come into being. The commoner fiddles with life that is already dead or dying. The fiend destroys without any sense of differentiation anything that falls across his path. But the artist lives to create improved environments, to bring continual pleasure to the soul and to the senses! The Master Artist creates in such a way as to bring the greatest enjoyment to the greatest number; but any artist, great or small, deals in the source material of life. He makes a dull day into a festive occasion.

The abilities of true artists have often been attributed to the gods, by people who became so removed from their own basic ability that it became an impossibility for them to confront a working artist directly. But truthfully, every individual has the raw ability to create and further the creation of life; and ideally, every man is an artist. When all of humanity decides to incorporate into creative ventures all of the energies it now invests in fearful protective measures and outright destruction, we will have a peaceful, flowering planet on which it is a pleasure to live.  Portions of mankind already do this; mankind as a whole has the potential of following those examples. It's not a very difficult thing to do!  Every man has within him the makings of an artist. So - what is an artist?

For one thing, an artist is a fellow who knows he's not meat. Meat has never had the ability to create a single unit of life energy.
An artist is a man or girl who initiates change. An ethical artist directs his efforts to produce effects that will benefit mankind and enhance the environment. Examples: Writing a song such as "America The Beautiful"; or creating children's plays that communicate principles of good conduct.  A degraded artist is an artist with limited vision and poor control of materials; such an artist may create, but the effects he produces are not very life-enhancing (although he might think they are). Examples: Promoting casual sex through pop songs; NYC subway graffiti. A master artist in a particular medium is a technical leader in that medium's use. He has studied and applied enough variations of creating effects in that medium that he elicits the admiration of the greater portion of all who come into contact with his art.  Examples: Andrew Wyeth (fine artist); Agnes de Mille (dance); George Washington Carver (agriculture); J.S. Bach (music); Agatha Christie (literature); Frank Lloyd Wright (architecture); Michael Jordan (basketball); Carole King (song writing). A pervasive (master) artist is one whose boundless energy, curiosity and, diligence, ambition and pure enthusiasm for creation carry him on to develop excellence in not one or even two, but many creative fields, using a wide variety of mediums. Examples: Leonardo Da Vinci; Benjamin Franklin.

There is one further stage to which a pervasive master artist might aspire. In this stage, he becomes involved with dispensing the knowledge he has acquired, apprenticing others, creating new master artists, enlivening entire communities, influencing governments and populations of planets. Having been successful to such a degree, he would have fulfilled the role of consummate artist. Example: L. Ron Hubbard.

Every community that still has a spark of life in it, a twinkle in its eye, so to speak, most likely has an active artist among its number. The artist is the source of inspiration for his community. People should be more careful to seek out such fellows, and treat them well. Schools should make a concerted effort to secure such fellows for their staffs - as artists - and pay them well. The media do not always report the existence and activities of the finest artists on the planet or even in the local community. Therefore, each member of the community would do well to do his own seeking. The individual and the community that takes the ethical artist to heart will find itself on the road to a new order of creativity, in which every day is alive with the splendor and glory only attributed on the downtrodden earth to some far-distant heaven. "Heaven," - at least the brand that is based on production rather than unearned ease - is only the way life ought to be; so why not take a stand behind the guys and gals who make every day a day in Heaven: The ethical artists.


Patty Pritchett from Austin, Texas wrote a poem: I KNOW My Cat's an Alien!
(c) 2002, by Patty Pritchett

I know my cat's an alien
When he stares airheaded into space.
I guess he's in touch with the mother ship,
Zapped from unknown space.

I know my cat's an alien
when he makes such awful sounds
and leaps about the room in such
impressive bounds.

I know my cat's an alien
When he just takes my word
That feathers waving on a stick
Really are a bird.

I know my cat's an alien
When he likes to get so wet
No self-respecting cat has
Ever done that yet.

I know my cat's an alien.
He inspects inside all cars.
He thinks its transportation
To whisk him out to Mars?

I know my cat's an alien.
Tapioca's his favorite snack,
Pawing at my hands if
I forget to give some back.

I know my cat's an alien
I hope he isn't caught!
He slaps the mailman's fingers
When he slides stuff through the slot!

I know my cat's an alien
When he stands guard under strain
Outside the shower I'm taking
Like I'm going down the drain.

I know my cat's an alien
When he sleeps 10 hours straight
Then wakes me up at four AM

I know my cat's an alien
When I chase him 'round the room,
Trying to grab the snake or bird
he's sentenced to it's doom.

I know my cat's an alien
when his "present" in the tub
comes crawling from the drain
as I begin to scrub.

I know my cats' an alien
I guess I should feel blessed.
That feeling lasts until I'm sure
undoubtedly he has messed!


Harold Amoroso from Fremont, Ca. wrote a poem:  It Will Come
(c) 2002, by Harold Amoroso

In the cold, in the black
in the back of my mind,
it’s hard to imagine the light.
Still I’m convinced it will come,
it will come.

It’s often I reach
for the vision of sight,
to see what prodigies see.
Not soon enough it will come,
it will come.

If one would believe
the media type,
there would be no use having eyes.
Death and destruction
promoted with hype
and millions of similar lies.

In freezing December
I’m reaching for June
and all of the life it will bring.
I’m bound to believe it will come,
it will come.