Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Amazing Grace....

A couple of weeks ago I ended up in the emergency room at the local hospital. I feel okay now. However I decided it was a good idea to have the problem that sent me there looked at more in-depth. So I agreed with the ER docs that I needed a referral to a specialist. A day or so later after I was out of my morphine hangover I rang the specialist who was based in a public hospital. They said ‘we’ll get back to you’. Today I got a later saying ‘you have been referred on to be referred to the specialist to see if he wants to see you.’ Uh huh…

I’m not sure what it is like in other countries. I expect it is the same - but in Australia the public hospital system is groaning under the pressure of sick people. To get into a public hospital unless you are an emergency is pretty damn hard. I wasn’t really surprised by the ‘hurry up and wait letter.’ So I will wander off to fairy floss (my pixie like new age doctor) next week and get a referral to a private hospital. Unlike some countries, medical insurance is not built into our wages. We are paid well and if you want private medical you buy it yourself. I have it. I will use it. I will get in for treatment faster than those who don’t. No, it’s not about being lucky as I had to pay for it. I earned it. It’s about governments wasting money on frigging stupid things like salary rises for politicians, high priced lunches for anyone’s arse they want to kiss, money wasted on useless crap like huge black public (or maybe pubic) sculptures that no one likes or understands, its about significant money given as grants to time wasters who want to write about their big left toe because ‘it’s art man’, it’s about playing for the British frigging royal family when they haul their blue blooded arses down under for a holiday, it’s about politicians jetting all over the world to study the surface of roads used by the North Eastern Mongolian tribesman and how that relates to Upper Kumbucca West in the outback, it’s about wanker parliamentarians who whine that their food in the Parliament House dining room (which is free to them) must be better than the normal Aussie’s, it’s about politicians jetting in to watch a football grand finals when they could have stayed at home and watched it on TV like everyone else….and I could go on and on.

The point is, like many countries, Australia has politicians and people in public service who should not be crossing the road by themselves let alone running a country. I don’t begrudge paying for health insurance. That’s my choice and it’s the way it is. I begrudge the waste of my tax payer dollars spent on crap when there are people in pain or dying because the thousands - millions – of dollars are wasted on things like providing what politicians consider a sub standard lunch each day that could have been spent putting people into the hospital system. Make a bloody sandwich at home and take it to work like everyone else does. I believe George Orwell, in Animal Farm, summed it up nicely -

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 29 September 2008

To suck or not to suck?

That is the question. What am I talking about? Vampires - and specifically writing about them. I had a hard time writing my first vampire novel, Shades of Gray, because I had a specific idea how I wanted my vamps to be. They were not the stereotypical bloodsuckers that most people know and love. Some of my vamps crave blood – some don’t. Some look to their true love to sustain them through the cravings and to make them better men.

I actually expected Shades of Gray to fall on its arse because its hard writing for a specific genre, knowing the fans of the genre are very picky about their vampires. I understand that - and so they should be. I was gobsmacked when Shades of Gray did very well. The reason? I was told by many readers and reviewers that my vamps were unique - quirky - odd. I like odd and quirky works for me. This inspired me to write Marlow's Curse - the follow on. It also did well. So, after requests for more vamps, I am once again in the middle of writing about vampires. I like this new lot – they are also different from the last – and yes, Temperance makes an appearance, along with Asher and Marlow. Will anyone like them? Who knows? That’s the risk when it comes to writing. I like risk. It keeps you on your toes and your mind active. I believe in the catch cry I use on my emails and on the blog - Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for? Take a punt - have a go. What is the worst that can happen?

So, when people ask me what I did on the weekend I say vampire sex. I can tell you that I get a lot of odd looks from strangers. Those who know me just nod and smile and say ‘that’s nice.' I’d like to meet a vampire and ask him some questions. Do I believe they exist? Sure – why not?

That’s it – Monday was shockingly blech, blah and uh-huh. No doubt something fascinating will happen tomorrow.

Shades of Gray review
I’ve made no secret about my love for humorous stories filled with plenty of hot trysts and tons of laugh inducing encounters. Shades of Gray is another gut buster from Amarinda Jones well known for her red-hot heroines and their strong and lovable partners. Temperance takes her place right by the side of her predecessors for her ability to take any situation in stride. Any woman who can spend her evenings working out in a cemetery has nothing but respect from me. Asher was a cuddly hero albeit a little old-fashioned in his terms of endearment. Shades of Gray is another great story that kept me giggling, blushing and totally captivated. A reader who enjoys a lot of fun and couples that burn up the pages will love Amarinda Jones’ latest.Shades of Gray
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 28 September 2008

Sex, arses and stars…

Love thy neighbor - and if he happens to be tall, debonair and devastating, it will be that much easier --Mae West

Sex, sex, sex – what’s it all about? I don’t know. I have written that much of it today that I can’t think straight and my arse is numb. I set myself this goal and I made it -but bloody hell my brain is fried. I swear if George Clooney – delicious man that he is – knocked on my door right now I would say no, thank you George. I am too tired for either you or sex but you can finish painting the steps for me please, there’s a good man. Thankfully tomorrow, being a work day, I don’t have to think or even use my arse for that matter – there you go – a bright side. Monday equals arse resting day. Did I tell you I was in the men’s bathroom at work on Friday? Why? There was a very good reason and I think I’ll save it for another blog because I will be going back in there.

News – there is none unless you want to agonize with those wankers in Washington on how they are going to save the world now that it’s totally stuffed due to all the things they allowed to happen to it because greed is good and stupidity seems to be eternal. I did get another book contract - I forgot about that - and Wayne the possum – aka – The Scarlet Pimpernel has finally been caught. Ha! Evasive, little bastard. And I have this stinky spray that deters possums – and me now that I have taken a whiff of it. Yes, as the world turns so are the days of our lives…

If you are a Scorpio like me – Your Week Ahead: There are more books than you could ever hope to read in a lifetime. And more websites than you could ever visit, let alone read. What does this tell us? That there's a whole load of irrelevant information in this world. We are surrounded by the stuff, but we really don't have to worry about whether we have absorbed or understood it. You are now keenly aware that there's something you don't know. That's healthy. It means, when you make your next big discovery, you won't be too proud to embrace the new-found knowledge. You know most of what you need to know. The rest you'll soon find out.

Huh? Yes, please add more cryptic crap into my life. Have a pleasant Sunday – wishing you much sex and no numb arse. I have also provided a nice picture of male bottoms for your gratification. I can do no more...

I used to be Snow White, but I drifted -- Mae West
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 27 September 2008

Saturday pontifications…

I read this news item this morning and I was appalled. Click here to check it out. I was appalled – not because of the ruling of abortion because I am pro-choice. I believe it is up to the individual what they choose to do with their bodies. I will never believe otherwise. No one can tell anyone else that they must have a child or ‘no, despite your terrible pain you are not allowed to choose to die but your own hand instead of terminal illness.’ Back off and let that person choose. It’s not your life or your pain.

What sickened me was this child – and she is one – having the hormones and periods does not make a woman – is pregnant at 12 for god sake. Yeah, I know that’s not unusual – that it happens. And yeah I know in medieval times women were having babies at that age but bloody hell we are in 2008. We have contraceptives. Who the hell are raising these kids? Or in this case not? I truly believe some people should not have children.

Yes, sex is all around us. Yes, kids will experiment but I have to wonder who the man/boy was that impregnated this child. I don’t call him a father as it takes more than a couple of hot minutes to be a father. If he was a lot older then he should be shot. If he was the same age then what the hell are his parents teaching him? Condoms are everywhere. Walk into any supermarket or chemist and you can buy them no questions asked.

One of my best friends wants more kids but she cannot have them. She, like many women, has suffered miscarriages. I have to wonder what the cosmic plan is to allow some women – or in this case kids – to have unwanted babies or children that they mistreat while others live in despair of having one. I believe that universe is totally screwed sometimes.

And absolutely I believe this ruling is in the interest of this twelve year old child. To me, it sounds like she is already damaged by life, why damage this child further?

Her mother moved interstate about three weeks ago for work, leaving the girl with her grandmother and father.

Once again, as far as we have come as women, there are some that will always drag us back. This mother should be ashamed. Cutting and running is the act of a coward.

And no, I don’t have comments on the blog any more but you are more than welcome to email me on if you disagree or agree and I’ll put your comments on the blog tomorrow because I will always listen to strong opinions regardless whether I agree with them.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 26 September 2008


Again, I was listening to the radio before work. I like to know what is happening in the world. The news came on and it reported on how this silver spoon politician had admitted that he had smoked pot in his youth. Firstly, who cares? And secondly, he was only saying it now it to come across as more likeable. How? Well he is a gazillionaire and the vast majority of Aussies aren’t and he had a problem with being seen as not being one of the people. So he admitted to smoking pot in that aren’t-I-a-jolly-good-fellow-and-one-of-you-socio-economically-challenged-people. Aussies aren’t dumb and no one bought it. So why did he even bother trying to say it? Well because maybe there is this small group of people who will actually believe it and he’ll feed off them.

So that got me thinking about everyone having two faces. We all have ‘em – no, I’m sure you don’t – I am speaking of myself and others most likely…anyway, I believe many people will show whatever face they can to get what they want and we all want stuff out of life. Some may suck up and say sweet things in someone’s ear about how wonderful they are, others will manipulate behind the scenes, while others will have so many faces on at one time that they will confuse the crap out of people and get stuff that way. So one could argue that this politician was actually just being a normal human being and going for what he wanted. Others could argue that politicians are from the planet Zork and don’t have a clue. I have heard Zork is nice this time of year. Maybe we get a busload of pollies and send them back and then we can set about sorting out the frigging mess they have made of everything.

Yeah, we’re all human and will constantly stuff things up - but if you’re going to make some vague attempt to lead people, telling us you were one of the boys and smoked dope, its not going to inspire us to follow you. Use some of your gazillions to help sort out health, transport and economic issues or piss off back to you mansion and leave us in peace.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 25 September 2008


... eye roll- is anyone responsible for anything any more? I have had a day where people kept passing the buck and telling me this or that wasn't their fault or their job or they don't know or they were too busy with other stuff to look into what they had messed up. So I had to look into problems. Now this would not have been an issue if I had some vague idea what they hell I was doing. I was so out of my normal scope that I ended up telling the people with the problems that I had no knowledge or experience in the field but I would fix the problem. Yes, that is a bold statement when you are flying blind but I prefer to be honest and say I have no bloody idea. Anyway after annoying the crap out everyone I sorted the problems.

What pisses me off is that I had to get involved in them at all. Why the hell does the person who stuffed the job up not fix it? Is it really that hard to say - I messed up. It was me. I made a mistake. What's the worst that is going to happen? Someone yells at you? Calls you a dill? So what? I cannot understand how people go through life not wanting to be responsible for anything. How does that work for them? Bills - I didn't run them up. Pregnancy - not my fault I had unprotected sex. Break that? Not me – it just fell. My response? Grow up and learn to be an adult.

On to other things….

Check here for political correctness gone mad. Yep – that’s my home town Brizzie and don’t you dare flash your undies here.

Tangled Memories is out now from talented author Jan Scarbrough and yes it’s another click and buy moment.

Tangled Memories

Dr. Alexander Dominican needs a mother for his infant daughter. Motherless himself from birth, he refuses to let his daughter grow up without one. He's convinced kindergarten teacher Mary Adams is the answer to his dilemma. When he offers Mary a marriage of convenience, he has no idea he's setting into motion a destiny that has taken him seven hundred years to fulfill.

Mary Adams needs to pay her deceased husband's gambling debts, and Alex's offer of marriage seems to be the answer to her prayers. But on the day of their marriage, Mary begins to have strange hallucinations - memories of another woman's life. A life that had taken place centuries before and somehow seems frighteningly familiar.

Before Mary can figure out why she's hallucinating, it becomes clear that someone in Alex's house is out to destroy her. Could it be one of Alex's sinister servants, or could it be Alex himself? Until she can learn the answer, Mary knows she must keep her distance from Alex, but he's reawakening a hidden desire - a deep longing - that she can't ignore. But will following her heart lead her to eternal love or to a nightmare that will never
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Blah day…

I cannot begin to describe how blah today has been. It culminated in me noticing a dead blue tongue under the front stairs as I came home. As I looked down on the lizard, my house keys fell from my hand, passed the steps and landed on the dead lizard, spearing the flesh and making maggots spill out onto my keys...oh yeah...some days are diamonds...

At least I don't have to deal with Pigzilla. Click here.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 23 September 2008

The writing thing....

So, I’ve been writing about vampires. Due to the great response from Shades of Gray and Marlow’s Curse, I am in the midst of another vamp book – adding the characters from those 2 books as secondary guests who wander into the latest chaos I have inflicted on my home town of Brisbane. Of course the thing is with books you can write ‘em but there is absolutely no promises that they will ever get published regardless how your last books went. It’s not like the saying of build it and they will come. It’s more like write it and hope someone does not think it sucks. I think writers forget that. I think we become complacent and make assumptions and - shock horror – start to believe our own publicity. No, of course I don't mean you or me....probably I mean everyone else....

To me writing is a job. It’s about creating a book that is entertaining and allows someone to drop their life for a couple of hours and wander into another world. There are heaps of writers around with stacks of books to choose from. Most of us are unknown and will probably always be. That’s okay. Just to take a dive into the shallow end of the writing pond is good. That someone wants to put money behind your book to publish is amazing. That a reader will put hard earned money down to take a chance on you is gobsmacking. And I think there are times that writers forget that as we all compete with one another for the market.
I know there are writers out there that will disagree with the subject of competition but we do compete and some are very scary, to the point of obsessive about it. That worries me. Yes, to a point writing is important, but when you become your publicity, you need to mentally slap yourself and start remembering who the hell you were before you went on this journey. Damn, I never thought I’d use that new age ‘journey’ word in a blog. Anyway…me? I’m Janet Davies. I got lucky when a book was accepted. Amarinda Jones was born out of that luck. I don’t forget that or who pushed and yelled at me along the way to work better and harder and smarter. There is nothing like a bunch of bright red edits across your latest work to bring you back to earth and remind you you’re not that good. And this could all fall apart tomorrow. Or it could get even better. It may stay the same. The thing is whatever you do in life we all know you have to remain grounded and be ever ready to pull your head in.
So, I guess what I am saying is – go out there are try your luck at anything – and I mean anything you believe in. Someone may tell you no – you suck or they may tell you yes, I think you’ll do. Make whatever you can out of the ‘think you’ll do’ statements and remember who you are and where you came from when your 15 minutes of fame happens.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 22 September 2008

Feral Beryls....

I was listening to the radio, as I do each morning. when I heard about 2 women bashing another woman up. They were all in their late teens/early twenties and the fight started because one woman declined to give the other two a cigarette. Well, of course, that's worth fighting over isn’t it? Denying someone something they want deserves a smack in the ear. What's that? It doesn't? That's feral and disgusting? Well yes it is. And have you noticed how more and more young women are fighting each other? I have sadly grown accustomed to young men beating each other assuming they were high on stupidity and testosterone but young women? Seriously? When exactly was it that women started to lose their dignity? I mentioned the other day on the blog about a pub in Melbourne, Australia offering women free drinks if they dropped their knickers. I have to wonder about who is raising these feral Beryls who find it acceptable to slug it out with other women to get what they want?

When my father was growing up in the city slums of Sydney in the 1930 - 1950's he ran pretty wild. He was one of 13 kids and he ran numbers, sold sly grog (alcohol) to the American soldiers and would think of nothing about going to the next suburb with his mates and pick a fight. That was the mentally he grew up in. I actually wanted to believe we were better than that – that maybe we learned something over the decades and with all the terrorist attacks about making a vague to effort to refrain from beating each up over trivialities.

No, I'm not saying women have to be pristine, virginal types who wouldn't say shit for a shilling but when did women lose their dignity? Their class? Why are we seeing more incidents of these feral Beryls fighting in the streets over what in essence is bloody nothing? Is it nature or nurture? Has society become a place where females have to act this way or are they growing up in households with parents who haven’t got a clue about what is right and wrong? And yes, a woman should be able to defend herself but slug it out with another woman over nonsensical things? I will say it again, as far as we have come as women there are some that are always going to hold us back. I'm all for equality of the sexes but fighting in the street like demented harpies isn’t equality- it’s pathetic. Where is the dignity in that?
Okay - on to something interesting. Do you want a good romantic read that you cannot put down because the story grabs at you to read it in one hit? Well, of course you do. Do yourself a favour and check out My Lord Raven from Jan Scarbrough. It’s out now with Resplendence Publishing. – and yes – of course you can click on the cover and buy. Go on…you know you want to…

My Lord Raven

Bran ap Madog, bastard son of a Welsh prince, has devoted his life to serving the English king. At Edward’s behest, he nourishes his reputation for savagery, taking as his badge the raven, a scavenger bird that feeds off rotting spoils. He wants, as his reward for service, the hand of a wealthy wife and the land and power she will bring to his bed.

When her father and twin brother are murdered, Lady Catrin Fitzalan sets out to learn the truth about their deaths. Were they killed by the king’s own champion, the vicious King’s Raven? She will do anything to protect her remaining family, including switching places with her cousin when the king forces the pious girl into marriage with his wicked champion.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 21 September 2008

In the arms of morphine…

So, I had a little emergency that got me a ride in an ambulance and a trip on the gossamer wings of morphine.

‘Had a massive gall bladder attack last night. I know lots of women are now nodding their heads and going – uh huh, oh yeah baby, I know that feeling. It’s a ratshit feeling of utter pain where you are doubled up in extreme agony. Do you notice how this stuff always starts around midnight when you’re dressed in old clothes and not had a shower? (I had a shower in the morning still on water restrictions here) Bloody Murphy’s law – whatever can you wrong will go wrong at the worst possible time when you are dressed like a bag lady. The only thing I was worried about as I waited for the Ambos was I was going to throw up on the front stairs and I still have one coat of paint to go on them. Threw up in the garden instead, scaring one blue tongue lizard. Boy, he’s got a tale to tell the other lizards now.

Anyway, I can’t whinge or moan because I am alive to tell the tale. Though I did learn some interesting things – I have a heart because they did the standard check to see it I was having a heart attack. I wasn’t. My heart is apparently good – well, it should be, I never use it. Next, there was a famous Aussie footballer in the cubical next to me. How do I know this? Because a chatty orderly told me all the goss as it was happening in the hospital as I was wheeled away for tests. I love gossip – or networking as I prefer to call it. Best of all I worked out a story for a new book revolving around my hospital visit while I lay there awaiting test results. See? It wasn’t a total waste of a night.

Huge thanks to the Queensland ambulance offices for their care and assistance and for laughing at my jokes as I threatened to puke on them. The hospital staff at a certain North Briz hospital were excellent. I think sometimes we take for granted what these people do and it’s only in an emergency we realize how bloody fantastic they are. Ambo offices, emergency workers, nurses and doctors are bloody beaut. That reminds me…I must buy next year’s fire fighters calendar…purely for charity reasons of course.

As always check the great blogs listed to the side. I have become a recent fan of JJ Herbert’s Platform of Self Importance. He writes some smart stuff. Check it out
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 20 September 2008

Blue for you...

Micah Blue - review

Micah Blue of the pink hair and take no prisoners attitude is a great character. Ms. Jones has written her with a terrific sense of humor and there is humor scattered throughout the story. There are also some great sex scenes both with the demon and with Ned that are really steamy. Ned is a hot guy with a hot body and a white knight complex who is determined to have Micah for himself, demon or no demon. This couple sets the sheets on fire while discovering a deeper connection and foiling the plans of a demon. A very good paranormal read with great characters, hot sex, laughs and a happy ending.

Have you checked out Winning Bess by talented author Marissa Alwin yet? If not you are missing out on a hot and romantic read. Take squiz below then click on the cover to buy…go on – treat yourself.

Winning Bess

The blurb…

1847 Ireland was a place of hardship and devastation, and Bess and her father wouldn't have been able to escape without Colm Devaney. But Bess' feelings for Colm go well beyond gratitude. Now they find themselves together in an immigrant neighborhood in New York City, sharing a cramped shack. And Bess wants to get even closer.

Three things aid Colm's survival—a small bit of savings, his ready fists and his desperate desire to have Bess... in every way possible. Every night he spends in their close quarters, trying to force himself not to peek at her luscious body as she bathes, is pure torture. The few stolen minutes of passion they finally share are heavenly, but leave them both fraught for more. More determined than ever to win Bess and take her far from their dirty, dangerous life, Colm sets his eye on another prize—an exquisite sapphire that goes to the winner of the fiercest prizefight in Five Points.

The excerpt…

Don’t look.
Don’t peek.
Just breathe.
His body burned with lust. The rough cloth of his trousers kept his stiff cock in place. He balled up his hands so he wouldn’t fondle himself. Even in the dark corner on his sleeping pallet, he didn’t want to get caught rubbing his manhood.
“Colm Devaney, are you listening ta me?” Bess asked from her side of the room. Water splashed in a bowl.
He swallowed. Sure he was listening. Sort of. It’d be easier if Bess didn’t have her top down around her waist as she washed her breasts. Big, firm, round breasts.
Breasts meant to fill a man’s hands.
A thin blanket ran between the walls as a barrier, but with the candle burning on her side, the material offered no protection at all. Hungrily, he peeked once more as her father’s snores rattled the roof of the alleyway shack.
A hand lingered over a breast before she lifted her arm and washed her side, shoulder and arm.
When his cock twitched, he bit back a moan.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. Thankfully she’d soon be asleep, giving him the privacy he needed to bring himself to release.
His balls tightened in anticipation. He hated waiting.
“I’ve made up my mind.” She rung out the rag to wash the other arm. “I’ve got no other choice…”
“What?” He sat up, only to wince. Shifting, he managed to get his cock a little more freedom. “What other choice?”
Bess turned to face his direction. “You big lug. I knew you hadn’t been listening.” In a huff, she turned away.
Damn English dogs.
No. The English may have driven him from Ireland to America, but Colm had no one but himself to blame for this situation. Still, it was nice to blame the English.
When Bess’ father had come to him for aid, Colm couldn’t say no. He hadn’t wanted to. Truth be told, he’d thanked the Lord for the opportunity to get closer to Bess. She and her father had no other relatives, just as many other immigrants found themselves alone here.
Only he hadn’t known how hard living with Bess would be. And before bed was the worst. Her bath routine seemed to be getting longer and longer.
Bess peered at him over the blanket once more. “I’m going to take O’Boyle up on his offer. It won’t make me a fortune but it will help with the cost of Da’s medicine.” There was sad resignation in her voice.
Bile of both disgust and worry churned its way up from his stomach. The mention of the thieving O’Boyle’s name alone sickened him. In a flash, he was across the room, offering her a glare of his own. “Over my dead body.” He’d be long dead before Bess would work for that scum.
She gasped.
He took another step forward. Too close, but he didn’t care. “You’ll not work for the likes of that rat bastard.” While he and countless others had needed to come to New York, far too many of them fell prey to those uncaring like O’Boyle. The city could be far crueler than death by starvation. Neither false temptation or hunger would claim Bess.
“You’re not me father.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I’ll be making my own decisions.”
A tremble set in. Anger and desire mingled in his blood. He wanted to have a say over her choices. At least the dangerous choices.
Damn it and damn the English.
Don’t be getting any ideas, Colm. Me daughter is too good for the likes of you. She’s meant for someone special. Not an English bastard. I thank you for your protection all the same.
The dying man’s words echoed once more in his head.
Colm was no fool. Bess’ father had sought aid from him because of his height and ready fists.
Standing too close to the makeshift barrier, he blinked down over the blanket at the eyeful he’d been given—or had taken.
Big lush breasts tipped with dark rosy nipples stood straight out for his view.
“Get your eyes back in your head, Colm Devaney.” She snatched her top up. “What do you take me for?”
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 19 September 2008

Rate me...

So, I got an email this morning about Male Me doing okay and being rated in a top ten somewhere. That's nice. I appreciate the support from readers and it’s always good to hear you don’t suck completely at something. However, I’m not big on ratings in anything be it writing or life. Why? Because I have never believe in rating people on a scale of one to ten. To me, it’s wrong. It’s the old apples and oranges thing. You can’t compare people, personalties and you never, ever know what brought somewhere to where they are in their life and how can you measure one person’s struggle against another? You can’t.

The only time I cared about ratings was when I desperately wanted out of Promptel, code word for crap phone company, and I wanted a redundancy (retrenchment package). They rated you on a scale a how good an employee you were. The worse you were the more likely you would be to be retrenched. Yes, correct, I went out of my way to be an utter pain in the arse. I even convinced my manager, let’s call him Charlie, to make me sound terrible. I pointed out to him that it actually worked in his favour if I sucked as an employee. How? Because he wanted a redundancy too and if it looked like he could not control his staff then the more likely he was to go as well. Oh yeah – we got out. See where teamwork can get you?

So thank you to everyone who bought Male Me. That you did means more to me than a number on a scale of one to ten.

Survival….changing subjects as I do….we have a couple of magpies swooping people near work. They have nests in nearby trees and they are instinctively protecting their young. I have to admire this pair of maggies as I work in a heavily industrial area with trucks rocketing past, people wearing fluoro safety outfits and continuous motion all around and yet this pair continue to dive bomb people, cars and trucks. They never stop. To me that’s true survival at any cost.

And don’t forget – today September 19th is International Talk like a Pirate dayshiver me timbers.

Taking the Fall – released October 10th at Resplendence Publishing

Jontie Rhodes holds the fate of the future in her hands. The only problem is she doesn't know it. When she attends a friend’s wedding she has one thought in mind. She needs a man. It has been so long since anyone has touched her in passion.

Two men want Jontie. An angel and a demon both know she has a decision to make that can affect the lives of many. They each have a plan to subtly watch her and influence her to suit their own purposes. However what starts out as manipulation soon turns into love.

Jontie is caught between heaven and hell and she is enjoying every hot, sexy moment of it.

“What is it you want, angel?” The tall man with the ash blond pony tail looked at him, not surprised to see him.
“She is not for you, James.” The angel’s tone was most adamant. “You are a demon. She is too pure for you.”
“It is not for you to tell me anything, Saint Gilbert of the anally righteous. We both know I am beyond your limited powers. If I want her, I will have her.”
Gilbert’s hands curled into fists. “You cannot always take what you want.”
“And yet you are here for the same reason as me.” James assessed him with cynical amusement. “You plan to manipulate her as well. You are no better than me, angel.”
“I do not have to justify myself to you, hellhound.”
James threw back his head and laughed. “Is that the best you can do? I have been called much worse.” His eyes locked once more on the woman. “She is fascinating isn’t she?”
“Yes, most beautiful.” Gilbert swallowed hard, trying to focus on keeping control.
James reached out and snagged a glass of white wine from a waiter passing by. “And she does not have a clue of her destiny.”
“I cannot allow you to use that against her.”
“Must you angels always assume those from hell are after something?”
“Historical evidence proves that your brethren only want what is best for them.”
“As do you holier-than-thou types.” James downed his glass in two long swallows. “You cannot tell me that who she is does not interest you, Saint Gilbert.” He reached over and grabbed two more glasses, offering one to the angel at his side.
Gilbert declined his offer. “She is why I am here.”
“You knew I was coming for her.”
“Yes.” That was a fact and they both knew it. They were enemies who would do whatever they had to in order to get their own way.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 18 September 2008

Bloody tacky...

I heard on that radio this morning about a bar in Melbourne that is offering free drinks for women putting their knickers on the bar. What the? Click here to check it out. Oh, and if they flash their bra they can also get a free drink. My response? Tacky, tacky and bloody tacky. What women with any class or sense would do that? And no, there is no way this is even fun or cute. It’s trashy exploitation of young, probably na├»ve women who think free drinks are fun. It’s purely entertainment for the dumb arsed male drinkers as drunken women parade around without knickers. And it begs the question – are men going to be putting their underdaks on the bar as well?

Maybe I’m old fashioned but to me gimmicks like this and wet t-shirt contests just once again reinforce the fact that as far as we have come as women we have not come far enough if some of us are willing to drop ‘em for drinks. And yeah, you could argue the toss that erotic romance writers don’t help the cause but I think we do. How? Because we give our heroines choices of who and when. It’s up to her and she’s not about to flash her knickers at just anyone – only the hero/heroes – because she is safe to and she is in control. There is empowerment and then there is exploitation. I hope women have more sense to avoid that hotel in droves…but I’m sure some won’t.

Micah Blue review…

“Micah Blue” is a wonderful quick read. Amarinda Jones definitely can make your heart race through the power of her words. The story is definitely highly erotic. Even if the demon is a loser, he still shares some hot moments with Micah. All was not a waste for her in regards to him. The hero in the story is something more. I really enjoyed that he wasn’t just going to be a one-night stand, but also had character and depth. “Micah Blue” will definitely be enjoyed by fans of paranormal erotica!

Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 17 September 2008

We were so poor...

On yesterday's blog I mentioned that the opposition party in Australian politics was having a leadership challenge between one silver spooner and another. Anyway, so one of them came out the victor. He is a gazillionaire and perceived as not one of the people. That's very important to be seen as an ordinary bloke or Sheila in Australia. We like to feel that we can have a beer or a decent chat with you. It's pretty doubtful that this man is that type of person. And he knows it. His first speech was to the public. It was basically about how he grew up as any ordinary Aussie did. How he struggled, lived in rented accommodation etc, etc. He was trying too hard to be perceived as one of the masses and it showed. This then spawned a lot of 'we were so poor' jokes on the radio this morning. You know the ones –

- we were so poor we had to shear sheep in winter to use their fleece for warmth
- you were lucky - we couldn't afford the shears - we had to carry the sheep on our backs
- we were worse off than you - we had no sheep. We could only look at them in books
- Books? You were lucky to have picture books - we had to use chalk on cave walls to draw pictures
- You have chalk? We were so poor we had to open a vein and write in blood

You get the picture - it's a Monty Pythonesque sketch. And the thing is while Australia is all about the average bloke and Shelia we don’t care if you have money. Good on you - even better if you worked for it. But don't pretend to be something you’re not or we won’t back you in whatever you do. You can't pretend to understand how anyone feels unless you have been there can you?

Made for Mischief has been released at Resplendence Publishing. It’s the hot new book from Regina Carlysle and yes just for you I have a sneak peak. As always, it’s a click on the cover and buy moment.

The blurb…

All she really wanted was one naughty night before returning to her life as a sheltered country spinster! Crawling beneath a bed in London’s most notorious brothel was beyond the pale, even for known eccentric Arabella Spencer. Little did she imagine that lust, desire, and yes, love was just within her grasp.

When Grayson St. James, Lord Mercer, newly returned from fighting Napoleon, dragged a squirming, dusty bluestocking from beneath his bed, he was…well..aghast! She wanted adventure, did she? She wanted to learn about sex, did she? He was just the man to teach her!

As a vow of vengeance and a case of mistaken identity unite Grayson and Arabella in a common goal, the dour Lord Mercer finds himself laughing for the first time in longer than he can recall but will an unknown threat bring them together or tear their world apart?

The excerpt…

“Let us to bed, love,” he whispered reaching for the sash on her dressing gown.
Arabella jerked away quickly, her eyes widening. To his great surprise, she held up a hand to ward him off. “No. You must wait, my lord. You shall ruin everything if you do not do what I say.”
Do what she says? What? Grayson narrowed his eyes at her and frowned, but before he could utter a word, she took his arm in a death grip. “You must come with me, Grayson. Do you hear? You must do everything that I say.”
Stunned speechless, he let her drag him to a straight-backed chair. “Sit, my lord. Yes, that’s it. Right here.”
She had some great surprise planned, of that he was certain. If she wanted to order him about, he was curious enough to allow it. He sprawled into the chair and looked up at her. She was frowning. Her finger pointed in the direction of his nose. “Do not move.”
He fought to hide his grin, but failed miserably. Lifting his arms out from his side, he presented himself. “I am all yours, my sweet. Do you perhaps think to entertain me? I assure you; I am breathless with anticipation. Do your worst.”
Grayson found himself facing a discreet changing screen in a darkened corner of the room. She scowled at him and rushed behind it, leaving him to stare at the oriental style painting of peacocks with full feathers extended. Had he ever looked at this thing before? Hmm. Very pretty how the painted trees and flowers provided the perfect backdrop for the strutting creatures.
A soft curse came from behind the screen. Grayson shifted in his chair. He heard the rustle of fabric, a huff of breath. “You do not have to seduce me, love. I am all yours,” he called.
Another huff! A curse. “Damnation!”
Grayson chuckled, and then silence fell. Anticipation rose, and his thighs tightened. In the fireplace a log snapped and cracked in half, sending up a shower of tiny sparks. A sudden gust of wind snatched at the sheer curtains at the window, and they flapped once, softly, before settling back in place. He gritted his teeth, watching the blasted screen, as a predatory urge sank claws into his bones. At last, she broke the silence.
“Close your eyes.”
Grayson cursed roundly then obeyed. He felt her presence. She’d moved close enough to touch. Perhaps she was checking to see whether he’d followed her orders. He could smell her, and the scent was so enchanting he started to reach out, but then she moved away. Anticipation curled through his lungs to steal every bit of air. The sound of her rapid breathing reached his ears. He was dying, thought he might expire on the spot.
Passion ripped through him. Intense desire raged. Lust pounded a pagan tempo through his loins and still, the little seductress said not a word.
“All right,” she breathed. “You may open your eyes.”
Grayson opened them and stilled.
Arabella stood splashed against the peacock backdrop wearing a diaphanous gown of white. A clasp at one shoulder was the only thing holding the garment in place. He sucked in a breath at the display. Where had she found such a costume? The Grecian affair was utterly sheer, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her bare torso. Pink nipples pressed against the white veil. One bare arm was lifted up and out to rest against the top of the screen in a dramatic fashion.
He swallowed. She was beautiful.
The other hand was positioned down the front of her body in an attempt to shield the shadowy juncture of her thighs.
Grayson muttered a curse and sat up alertly. Every pore in his body screamed out for a touch, a taste. He damn near whimpered.
“No. I am not Arabella tonight. I am Aphrodite come to you to… blast it… do not move, Grayson. A moment please.”
She made a sound of disgust, jerked the spectacles from her face and dashed across the room. He almost swallowed his tongue. Her lovely breasts quivered with every step. When she turned to place the item upon the table at the base of the flower vase, he eyed her delicious little rump. The gossamer teased the firm, pale flesh, and his cock grew hard enough to pound stone. God!
She raced back to the screen with a huff and positioned herself once again. Gray waited. Watched. What would she do next?
“Well,” she began quickly, “As I was saying. I am Aphrodite sent here to please you, my lord.”
“And you have succeeded admirably.” It occurred to him to laugh, but he caught himself just in time. Laughter and lust… what a strange combination
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Never discuss politics or religion…

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry. ~T.S. Eliot

I have been watching the hoop-la and Hollywood hype of US politics. Scary stuff. You have on one hand a bunch of right wing we-will-save-you-through-God-and-guns candidates compared to a rock star who is reminiscent of JFK and Camelot. The thing is whoever gets elected in the US effects the world. To my mind it’s not looking good either way but then compare that to Aussie politics - the opposition party, the Liberals – who are anything but - got knocked out of power last year because they lost the plot and were so out of touch with everyday Aussies, are electing a new leader. I have to say who cares? Neither contender is the average Joe Blow that has had to struggle in life. They’re silver spooners. Then look at Kevin, our Labor PM – working class boy makes good. It’s the dream isn’t it? So far he has done okay – not fabulous – but okay. So do we want okay people or do we want razzle dazzle running the world? Either way, we take a huge chance.

Like a lot of people I studied poli-sci at Uni. It’s interesting why people vote as they do and how the voters can be swayed by words and promises and glitz. It’s a damn shame most of them will never come to fruition or if they do you have to pay through the nose for them with your taxes. Yep, I reckon it’s true – we elect who we deserve. We strive for more in out own life so why not globally? The whiz bang hype of US elections makes me wonder how whiz bang the world will be feeling this time next year.

Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber. ~Plato
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 15 September 2008

Save me from Mondays......

Monday – pukeable, boring, snoring and thankfully over. Do we wish our lives away? Not me, I always want something better and Monday isn’t it.

That’s it…the day was so pukeable I have nothing to tell you. I am off to write about vampires….and yes for those who asked for it, Temperance and the gang make a return. No idea what I’m talking about? Few people do. However, click on the cover and take a squiz. ‘Course the thing is just because you write it doesn’t mean a publisher will want it. I think if you believe that with every submission you will get a contract then you need to re-think the whole writing deal. That's insane. Probably only JK Rowling doesn’t get knock backs… but I bet she had ‘em. That which does not kill me makes me strong or so insane that I no longer that how the quote goes? Whatever....

Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.” -- Edward Gorey quotes
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Sunday, 14 September 2008

And the topic is - meaningless crap….

And the topic is - meaningless crap….

- I have developed arthritis in my thumb from smashing it with a hammer years ago
- No one can ever spell my name or street address correctly yet letters and parcels always get here
- I am in the midst of writing about vampires
- My younger brother wrote a play that was performed in a theatre
- My older brother hasn’t spoken to me for 8 years because I am a ‘disappointment’
- I am annoyed I don’t have a widows peak like all the other dramatic women in the family
- I didn't stay when I should have
- I have never done drugs – what’s the point? I can be just as dumb without them so why pay for them?
- I keep candles around the house but never light them – I just like the scent of them
-Everything I own is retro
- I like nothing better than fighting for a cause
- I am contemplating buying a new pair of Doc Martens
-I have a large collection of 1920’s butt ugly fairground plaster dogs and yet I don’t like dogs
- I can eat with chopsticks
- I never dot ‘i’ when I write
- I know Mondays will always be pukeable

But enough of me…world meaningless crap…
- A rat can last longer without water than a camel.
- A female ferret will die if it goes into heat and cannot find a mate.
- The 'spot' on 7UP comes from its inventor who had red eyes. He was an albino.
- On average, 12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents daily
- Leonardo da Vinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time.
- The very first bomb dropped by the Allies on Berlin during World War II killed the only elephant in the Berlin Zoo.
- Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying
- Bats always turn left when exiting a cave.
- You burn more calories sleeping than you do watching television.
- There are more chickens than people in the world.
- Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance.
- A pregnant goldfish is called a twerp.
- The hole inside a CD is exactly the same size as an old Dutch 10 cent coin, called the "dubbeltje".
- A snail can sleep for three months

That’s a Sunday for you – meaningless crap. Please add you own.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Saturday, 13 September 2008

Tired-arsed Saturday stuff...

bindies --n. pl. thorns in the grass (an Australian word)
You're not yet Australian until you're more scared of bindies than redback spiders.
thorns grass burrs pain hurt

That’s true – I killed an enormous redback spider the other day with my thong – er flip flop to non Aussies. Redbacks are nasty poisonous things and I would rather handle one of them than a patch of bindies. I have lots of them all over the lawn. I saw them today. Every year I think I have eradicated the little bastards but there they are once more. It’s the one thing that grows regardless of the drought. What are bindies? They’re burs that usually grow in patches. In the summer, they dry out and get really sharp and when you step on them they dig into your flesh and hold on – and not just one – they come in clusters. As dumb kids we used to challenge each other to run over bindi patches to prove how tough we were. Every kid or ex-kid in Oz could tell you a dreaded bindi story.

So what is the point of the above? Maybe its just about small things that can annoy you but in the end can be destroyed if you apply yourself.

What about another type of bindi? These started out as Hindu tradition and spirituality.

The area between the eyebrows (where the bindi is placed) is said to be the sixth chakra, ajna, the seat of "concealed wisdom". According to followers of Tantrism, this chakra is the exit point for kundalini energy. The bindi is said to retain energy and strengthen concentration. [1] It is also said to protect against demons or bad luck.

The thing that amuses with these bindis is that they are considered a fashion statement. Spirituality verses what is trendy. People will wear anything, without thinking about the significance behind it just because everyone else is. I’m not religious in any way but I do respect other people’s beliefs and while I like the shape and style of the Celtic/Gothic crosses, I would never wear them because it’s not what I believe in and all the fashion hype in the world is going to make me. Nor would I consider a bindi. So I have to wonder if women who dot a bindi on their forehead really get the meaning or are they doing it because someone like Gwen Stefani has? Are we really that shallow? My thoughts? Yes.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Friday, 12 September 2008

It's official…

…I have been recognized with a pretty blue certificate from work saying I exceed expectations and go the extra mile. No really - it's true. I was quite bemused when my name got called out. Me? Are you sure? It seems that they have no idea whatsoever what I do at my desk when I have my head down typing. How good is that? It means I have this writing at work lurk down to a fine art and that no one really knows what I do yet I look efficient doing it. I take pride in that. I really do. How good am I? Sure, okay, it's not something that everyone would take pride in but I do. It's a genetic thing. I blame my convict ancestors. It's not my fault really if you look at it like that. I have no choice but to be bad. Have I hung the certificate with pride in work area? No but it it in the bottom drawer at work where I keep my sneakers and they’re important to me. So I have a certificate to say I’m damn best friend Ethel would say – suckers. Actually speaking of that woman, she emailed to say she will read the copy of Men of Heart I send her. Ethel doesn’t read books. She only watches DVDs. That she would read my book is high praise indeed.

Okay – that’s it. The house if a tip (mess) and I must make an attempt to pull it in order before someone arrives. I have an hour to throw stuff in one room and shut the door – easy.

Knock Three Times - review

So begins an illicit (but not really) affair. It quickly becomes more on both sides, but Ballantyne is keeping from Montie about who he really is. And Montie is cheating (even though they aren’t having sex) on Adam. What a tangle!

Throw in a stalker Montie doesn’t know she has, Adam’s struggle with what’s keeping him from being intimate with Montie, and all the flaming hot sex going on, and I absolutely loved this book. Knock Three Times is a truly a great escape, not just to read, but from how people would truly act in certain situations. Logic says one thing but the author, Amarinda Jones, wrote another and I personally appreciated the total lack of common sense. Great read.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday, 11 September 2008


Yesterday I dared to struggle. Today I dare to win -- Bernadette Devlin

I got my copies of Men of Heart in the mail. I opened the parcel and looked at them….and then laughed. It was one of those surreal moments when you can’t quite believe that the name on the cover is you and it’s your book in your hands. It’s just amazing Grace…so the girl who was ‘never going to get far in life’ has done okay. So, if anyone tells you that you can’t do something -go ahead and do it anyway – fuck ‘em. Prove ‘em wrong. I thank my long suffering editor H for taking a huge chance on me. I owe you a drink or 17 when we meet in February – have your drinking shoes on girl.

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do -- Eleanor Roosevelt

I don’t have to tell you what day it is today. How could anyone possibly forget what happened on September 11? No one. It shocked the world so profoundly that it made us all - no matter what country - re-evaluate who we are as people. We came together as one people united against terrorism – as we did with the Bali, Spanish and London bombings. But I have to ask, while we will never allow ourselves to be conquered by terrorists, have we changed as people? Are we different? Have we learnt to be better or have we moved on, jaded and hardened and as selfish as ever? I think there are moments in life when we – the world - are amazing in our response and support but then normal life sets in and we go back to being less amazing. Shame about that.

To anyone who lost someone they loved
in 9/11 or in the terrorists bombings after – no, it’s not right and it’s not fair but I believe they will be forever heroes.

We shall find peace. We shall hear angels. We shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds -- Anton Chekov
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

I'm not on a ledge....

Thank you to all those who emailed me…I was not fully aware how many people read the blog. Amazing Grace – so I decided I had better advise the following - no, I’m not sick, suicidal, angry, depressed, a man, gay, a Venutian or upset. Yes, my books are doing well – thanks to you - and no, I have not been run over by a mob of kangaroos – nor am I joining a cult especially not if yellow or orange are the dress code.

I just wanted a day off and I had one. And you know what? It was good. I will do it again. Maybe tomorrow – maybe next week. However it did interest me the amount of people who were surprised I would skip a blog day. Do you know why I think that is? Two reasons. The obvious one is habit. We get used to something and when it’s not there we assume there is a problem. Nope - and even if there was I would hardly put it on the blog as others do. As you’ll agree some things are personal and should not be made public – i.e. marital dramas or long discussions about illness on a daily basis. You and I don’t want to read a blog for that. While we all accept people are human, a blog to me is a switch off – it’s a chance to look at another world and not be burdened by crap – that we can find in out own life if we really want to, can’t we?

The other reason – writing is a funny old business…writers are funny people…with funny thoughts and beliefs. It’s a tough game where back stabbing and sniping is everywhere. But that’s in any job or walk of life – and it’s something I have chosen to do and no, I’m certainly not without my sins…they’re probably my most interesting qualities. So you deal with it. It’s par for the course. But every so often instead of stepping up to the plate and telling someone to bugger off as I normally do, I step away because it just isn’t worth going through the drama with them.

So, that’s it….thanks for the emails…back tomorrow? If I have something to say…have a peaceful Wednesday

Ten men waiting for me at the door? Send one of them home, I'm tired.”-- Mae West
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Tuesday, 9 September 2008

Blogless in Brisbane....

Having a break from the blog for a while. Have a good week.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Monday, 8 September 2008

What is the point?

K, a non writer friend said – why do you bother spending so much time writing? What do you get out of it? What’s the point? Being a Monday, it was really too many questions to answer in a row. My response was does there have to be a point and why do you care? He was just interested as he doesn’t get the whole writing thing. Well really, who does? Its angst filled, long hours talking to yourself. Non writers think people who sit on their arse and type are weird. Well yes, they are – okay? Writers will tell you it comes from the depths of their souls this passion to write. Me? I don’t know. I really don’t try to analyse the whole writing thing that much. You would go ga-ga. It just is. Besides there are so many others writers out there who can give you some deep and meaningful answer to scribbling down thoughts into works of fiction so I’ll leave that up to them. I personally do what I do because I do and there ain’t nothing to analyse in that so why drive yourself nuts?

K and I went on to discuss the point of other things – work, life, religion, the moon walk conspiracy, the postal service, blue verses black pens…you know the whole man’s inhumanity to man stuff. In the end K gave me a headache and I sent him on a time out to analyse why he was bugging me with these questions on a frigging Monday - riddle me that.

Think about it…if people stopped analysing what this person did or said or how that person got X when they got Y or why someone hates someone else for their opinion or colour or religion then how easy would life be? No one would be jealous of anyone, wars would cease because I would not care why you have something I didn’t and opinions could be said without people getting their knickers in a knot. How good would that be if we just did stuff without worrying why? If we stopped analysing the point of everything then we could just get on with the business of living. Don’t you get tired of explaining yourself or having to worry about whether someone will get their nose out of joint because you said something controversial at work, on a blog, in a store? Actually would controversy even exist if there was nothing to analyse? And no, I know what you’re thinking – you have to care about something. True. You do. But as I believe in the saying of pick your battles, I also believe in pick what you can control and can care about. It has to something that means something to you and that’s got nothing to do with analysing and everything to do with heart.
And no, of course people will always analyse and look for the point or the meaning or the reason. That’s what humans do. As people we like to bitch and whinge and moan. We like to covet and envy and hate. We like to loathe and despise and plot revenge. We want to know the whys and the wherefores even when it’s none of our business. You’re probably shaking your head right now and saying – not me, I’m none of those things. Aren’t you? Want to think again? Or are you practising the concept of non-analysing? See? It may catch on and we can all be blinded to our faults and the faults of others.

Yes, how frigging deep and meaningful for a Monday but it’s not my fault it’s K’s for bringing up the whole what’s the point of writing thing. Oh, and after his time out did he work out why he was bugging me with these questions? No, just wanted to waste time and he knew I would be the perfect person to do it with. See, there is no point to stuff sometimes – you just go along with it.
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?