Dear Constant Reader,
Please forgive my absence from this my blog of late. I was mired in other activities and time flew. Tonight, I was just about to get myself ready for the boudoir, when I realised I had not written here for a while. What has kept me from my creative outlet, I wondered. So I thought a bit, and this is what's been happening:
1. I partook in a podcast interview. It is now live, and it can be accessed right here. This will lead you to a page on the Arts Upper Hunter website, and my interview is second from top. I don't think I did too badly in it. At the end, I read from Howling on a Concrete Moon, my most recent novel. As I've mentioned previously, I am in the process of getting books distributed via Amazon privately once I have had the Zeus logo removed from the cover art. Well, that's been done, but I am yet to pay the local printing company - it's on my list of things to do next pay day.
2. Had my reading glasses prescription updated, and will be getting my new specs in a few weeks. Whilst choosing the frames, it got me pondering as to why exactly designer frames are so pricey? Given any person with an eye for aesthetics could design functional and flattering frames, why does a big name command a hefty price when a lesser known person can do just as good a job? I nearly crapped when the optician's assistant told me the price on the frames adorning my face, and when I removed them I saw the label: Calvin Klein. It was at this point things became clear (although they will be clearer yet when I have my new glasses).
3. Study. I'm due to commence a core subject via online university next Monday, and I don't have my text books (haven't yet been purchased for a myriad of reasons - one being that I had a bout of angst over the last few days). I have to complete a module on integrity first, and it is this that I worked on today.
4. Listened to what I believe is the town fucktard revving his engine. I don't think he lives in this street, but visits one of the residents. For reasons known only to him, and possibly every other testosterone-saturated twerp out there, it is imperative that he work his accelerator pedal like an elephant with St Vitus Dance working a kickdrum. Each consecutive rev is louder and longer than the one previous, and as the black smoke billows from his exhaust, the womenfolk everywhere must fight the almost insurmountable urge to rip off their clothing and ravish him. You understand what I'm getting at, don't you, ladies? Don't your loins throb with ache and desire and lust when you hear or see someone hooning and revving their car? No, didn't think they did. What is it this pea-brained petrolhead is trying to prove to us all? I'm guessing he wants us all to realise his dick is positively Lilliputian. A few times I've opened my front door to stand in my yard and make the time-honoured pinkie gesture at him, but he's already sped off up the hill and made the leap into hyperspace before I get outside. God, this guy shits me.
Well, that's been the story of my life this week. It's not a great story - I save those ones for my novels, and I am hoping to have links for you all soon. In the meantime, I still have some paperback copies from the old publisher. Contact me via Google or at my email (which should be in my author bio) if you are interested.
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