I really need to find a site that (reliably) features Indie Music videos. Because I searched YouTube for ‘indie music australia rock’ and got this:

Michael Paynter - Closer.

Not bad, but he’s definitely not indie, dammit!

And… to me, he looks as though he wants to be singing rock, but some bastard put him in a pop song… *snicker* Poor dude. Rock is a hard gig these days.

Something about this song does grab me, though. Not sure what it is. Edgy black and white thing?

This morning, I wandered over to the blog of Dok Holocaust, evil genius. He’s done a fantastic post on a side of domestic violence that isn’t at all trendy or - apparently - media-worthy… men who are victimised by women.

Violence against men isn’t a popular topic because, I guess, it strikes at a couple of much-loved assumptions our society lives by. One, that a ‘real’ man can’t be beaten by a woman, because men are stronger than women. Period. It’s just part of being male. They’re smarter and more confident, too. Two, that all serious problems can be solved with the application of some muscle and maybe some money. Real men fix their own problems, while real women cower waiting for a real man to save them.

If you haven’t already yelled it at the screen - let me say that both of those assumptions are utter crap. The sooner we acknowledge that men have just as much right and potential to be fucked up AND GET HELP as women… the sooner a huge number of abused men can get the support that they need and deserve.

I saw a link to this article on the Blog Fiction Forums and was intrigued:

The End

The book business as we know it will not be living happily ever after. With sales stagnating, CEO heads rolling, big-name authors playing musical chairs, and Amazon looming as the new boogeyman, publishing might have to look for its future outside the corporate world.

Well, hallelujah. I’m not a lone nutcase trumpeting crackpot theories. I have nutcase allies!

In case I’m not making sense (and you’re not in the mood to read 10 pages of a New Yorker mag article), my basic theory is that the days of the paper-published book are numbered. Sure, they’ll be produced for hundreds of years yet - in a small way, as curiosities and collectables. But I don’t think that paper-publishing will stay the standard for dissemination of ideas and the written word. I think that stories, novels and articles will be, more and more, published primarily in an electronic format… of some description. I don’t think it takes genius to work out that it’s a likely scenario, mind you. Just look at the trends and follow them to a moderately logical conclusion.

Why am I rabbiting on about this? Why does it interest me? Easy. A couple of years ago I decided to deliberately avoid even attempting the paper-publishing route that most writers try to follow. I don’t submit my articles and stories to magazines, newspapers or book publishers. And part of it is probably cowardice - simple fear of rejection. But a big part of it is a belief in the concept of electronic ‘publishing’ … and a desire to put all my energy into backing the right horse.

If no-one’s heard of me in 50 years time… ummm… whoops?

We’ve been a little low on money over the last couple of months.

Regardless of finances, though, I was determined to take hubby to the ‘31 Days of Chocolate’ event at the local Sebel (Bistro Allure, for anyone who’s interested). Because we share a deep love - of chocolate and other sweet and fatty things.

OH.

DEAR.

GOD.

So much chocolate.

Chocolate cake, chocolate gateau, chocolate icecream, chocolate pudding, chocolate sauce, chocolate mousse, chocolate tarts, chocolate pieces… ummm, yeah, lots of chocolate. And a banana cake, for some reason. The only fruit available was thinly sliced on top of… you guessed it? Chocolate.

One vaguely scary thing was the clientele. Women. Wall-to-wall women. As hubby pointed out, though, it’d be a crap place for a man to try to pick up. He’d have to compete with the chocolate.

It’s funny, you know? I looked around, and I couldn’t help feeling just a little bit guilty that there were millions of people starving in the world, and I was about to sit down to a completely non-nutritious meal of fat and sugar. Consumerism gone mad?

Then I figured - what the hell, I’d paid now. So I started eating. Bahaaha!

Most of the way through our ‘meal’, I was flagging. Still hungry, but over it. So, I made a sudden decision.

Stuff the chocolate, I wanted hot chips!

I ordered hot chips, to the amusement (and envy, I bet) of the women at the table next to us.

YUM. Bistro Allure does damn good chips - but they don’t do many. However… it was the perfect amount. I polished them off (with much help from hubby) and went back to the chocolate buffet.

And now, for some strange reason, I’m craving fruit.

I came up with a brilliant idea!

Showcasing the best - according to MY very humble opinion - videos I can find on YouTube.

For my first effort, here’s something that’s just incredibly awesome…

Videocasts from the International Space Station. Astronaut Greg Chamitoff answers some of our most burning questions about life in space.

I may not think of myself as a particularly good writer, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to promote Nomesque Fiction. Because… well, maybe it’s my sadistic side coming out… *snicker*

So I’ve been pondering, lately, ways to promote the site. I don’t want to be rabbiting on about it on this blog more than necessary - telling y’all about the miseries of a writer’s life (aka whingeing) is one thing, telling you about a new story is another thing… but blatant ‘read my fiction blog or you don’t love me!’ stuff just isn’t me. Besides, there aren’t THAT many people reading this blog

Brainstorming has given me a couple of ideas, but not necessarily the method for bringing them to fruition. I’m thinking that a parallel podcast or vodcast might be an interesting addition. Because let’s face it - not everyone reads for fun these days. I’d like to provide PDF downloads of completed storylines… but ummm… I don’t have any at the moment. They’re ALL still hangin’. Ooops. The character-blogging thing… didn’t really work. Blogging as a character is bloody hard. Something that I should keep doing now and then though, whether people read it or not. Because that’s a skill I really need to work on. Parallel graphic-novel? Great idea if I could draw. Bugger.

What do you think? If you were trying to interest more people in your fictional work, how would you go about it?

Finally my muse decided to co-operate.

You know, I kind of envy those writers who get an idea, flesh it out, work with it, plan out a story, and write it. All sequential-like. Me? I get an idea, write a bit of it, get another idea, write a bit of that, get yet another idea and write a bit of it, then go back to the second and write a bit more, then get another idea, and - GAHHHH! Mind you, I can see that this might be a little frustrating for my readers, too. Because my readers get the stories in the same order I do - chaotic. They’re waiting to hear what the hell happened to Pete, and I’m offering them a story about completely different people in a totally different place and time. That’s gotta be irritating.

So if I’ve been irritating the hell out of you with my fiction, I apologise profusely. It’s just that my muse dislikes being pushed along any particular path - she’s a stubborn wench (like me) and utterly capricious.

On the bright side, I’ve had some luck cajoling her, in the last week or two. LO! and BEHOLD! - two stories on the same topic. Pete and Wendy are back - Pete’s stuck in hospital with a gorgeous police officer making him drown in his own drool, and Wendy’s trying to find out what the hell happened to him.

Check them out -

Hospital
Streets of a Dirty City

By the way - if anyone can tell me where on earth I lifted that last story title from, I’d really appreciate it. Because it’s bugging me. I know I’ve nicked it from somewhere - maybe modified it a little - because my brain itches whenever I read the title. But my luverly brain won’t tell me where it’s from. I’d google it, but I’m not in the mood for porn galore. Little help?

I know I’ve been promising, for months, to give you something a little more ermmm… modern.

Because I do, actually, like some music created in the last 20 years. Believe it or not.

So here’s one that I heard recently on Triple J’s Unearthed Jukebox and enjoyed. And, umm, related to. Cos I have been feeling old occasionally.

Check out The Stoics’ Too Old Too Fast.

If you really like it, you might want to check out their Unearthed profile or their MySpace site.

Every now and then, I’m gobsmacked by something that I know I shouldn’t be.

Today’s effort is a classic example. A woman who’s married, pregnant, and horrified at the thought of massaging her perineum (a strategy to help avoid tearing during the birth, for the blissfully unaware), because - she doesn’t like to touch herself ‘down there’.

For crying out loud!

Genitalia really isn’t that scary. I mean, men’s genitalia can be, but that’s because it can resemble an angry deformed rabbit jumping out of a thick bush of smelly hair. Umm, eurgh. Anyway, back to the point. Women’s genitalia? Sure, it can smell a bit funny (WASH, dammit!), and it’s a little mysterious, and secretes stuff - but so does your nose, and I don’t see women running around yelling, “Get it off me!” at their noses. Let’s not get into nose jobs.

Australia doesn’t have a high active-christian population. And that’s what gets me. Most of the women who’re scared of ‘down there’ (and you thought ‘vajayjay’ was a scary term - at least it’s a name of sorts) aren’t brought up that way out of any religious belief that thinking about one’s vagina will lead one into nasty little sins. They’re brought up that way… WHY? Abuse? Sometimes, I’m sure. And, well, it’s understandable then. I might be scared of my vagina if it had gotten me far too much male attention at a far too young age. But what about when it’s not abuse? What about when parents discourage touching and talking about ‘down there’ and fill their daughters’ heads with vague fears and shame when they look disgusted at the thought of answering a sensible question? What the HELL are these parents thinking? I suspect they’re not. I suspect they’re simply uncomfortable with such topics thanks to their own upbringing, and not prepared to make the effort to get over it for the sake of their kids. Well, damn. Talk about ruining your kids’ sex lives forevermore.

If you’re one of the many people in this world who’re scared to touch their on genitalia - can I suggest that you make a conscious effort to work through your fear/disgust/shame? Those bits of us that lie ‘down there’ are capable of bringing us and our partners great pleasure - but they need to be acknowledged and appreciated before they will work with us fully. Have a look. Wash your hands, have a feel around, then wash your hands again. You might need a mirror or two, unless you’re nice and flexible. But try it. Your genitalia isn’t disgusting, dammit.

I just noticed that I’m getting 2-4 visitors every single day, searching for German Streusel Cake recipes. Well there ya go! I never realised it was so popular. Although it should be… cos mmmmmm-mmm that stuff is good.