After an extended and reluctant hiatus, Radio Free Bliss is back on the air. This time, I interviewed dramaturg, poet, playwright, author and critic, JoSelle Vanderhooft. JoSelle had so much interesting stuff to say that it was tough getting it under my 50-minute cut-off. I hope she, and any listeners, don’t find it too choppy as a result. The interviewing schedule is full for 2008, so I hope you’re keeping up-to-date. I have heaps of wonderful authors that I’ve yet to interview.

And it’s that time of the week again. We’re up to Chapter Fourteen of War Games.

Cheloi and Garza finally find the time to snatch some stolen passion, but it only extends the ache rather than assuaging it. And there’s the upcoming visit of a member of the dreaded Central Control to also look forward to. Will Cheloi be able to keep all the strands of her machinations clear in her head, or will they begin to unravel?

FAVOURITE QUOTES

Koul liked his authority too much to appreciate that it was sometimes more beneficial to use less of it. It was the difference between being a leader and being a dictator.

She could never be sure whether Eys would have ever caught her if she stumbled–that was part of the dizzying excitement of being around her–but she knew, without a doubt, that Garza would. Garza would be there for every trip, every fall, ever vigilant and supportive. What would it take, she thought, to call such a woman her champion?

“Leave the door unlocked when you leave,” she said.
“And what are you going to do?” Garza whispered.
Cheloi smiled tightly, the shutters that walled off her feelings from the rest of her now back and well and truly in place. She headed for the bureau and picked up the bottle and one of the glasses.
“I think I’ll get drunk.”

… of War Games. For the War Games page, go here.

This is a time of personal introspection for our two main characters: Garza, after the inevitable confrontation with a frustrated Koul; and Cheloi, as she mulls over the consequences of Garza being Fusion and decides to think with a — shall we say — non-cerebral part of her anatomy.

FAVOURITE QUOTES

All she and Nils could think of was what was immediately in front of them–infiltrating the Perlim military structure — and the far future — a planet free from Perlim influence. Everything in between — her life, her dreams — seemed trivial.

The dinners were courteous, sometimes serious, sometimes entertaining, but always with an undercurrent of wary suspicion. Koul had done this with his plot to remove her from command, and she had done it with an explanation for their escape that all present knew skirted the bounds of probability.

Cheloi–Laisen–had only one life and even with the wondrous technologies of the Fusion, it was still too short to deny herself the touch of someone she had fallen in love with.
Perhaps Garza didn’t feel that same way. Perhaps it was some kind of a game to her. But not for Cheloi. She was through with denying herself this. For once, she would follow her heart and damn the consequences.

Is now up at my site.

Cheloi and Garza may have escaped the rebels and found their way back to the Nineteen, but they’re not out of danger yet. Cheloi has to face, not only her wetware counsellor, Dr Copan, but also an intently interested and watchful Koul Grakal-Ski. What can she say that will get her and Garza out of Koul’s clutches … and the assassination plot of his that backfired?

FAVOURITE QUOTES

“Just remember,” he warned. “If your disinformation plan doesn’t work, you may have to make the hard decision, Laisen–Garza Yinalña or the Fusion.”

“No, Rumis. For the tenth time, I’m not getting shipped to Regional Medical.”
Rumis’ lips twitched. “I’m sure that was only the sixth time, Colonel.”

He was only the most ambitious and ruthless officer in the Perlim Empire, whereas she was a trained Fusion operative. When it came to deception, there was no contest.

Y’know, I try to keep a low profile regarding all this writing biz. I figure that the person probably most interested in the ups and downs of my career is myself … and hapless J, unable to evade me for too long, unless he scrambles into the Nissan and scarpers. But, eventually, he has to return. Eventually, they all have to return …

But my friend, Amber Green (who I never write to as often as I should; sorry, Amber!) just pointed me to the Erotica Bestseller list at Fictionwise and — guys and gals — I’m at #5 with my very first release, The Commander’s Slave. Go here to have a look, but I think you have to be quick because these things probably change quite quickly.

I’m going to print out the page and am thinking of doing something tasteful with it. Covering it with gold leaf, properly embossed to bring out every typed character, perhaps. Or surrounding it with a miniature Sistine Chapel mash-up in gouache on plaster, complete with aromatheraphy votives and a looped track of the Vienna Boys’ Choir. Something simple like that. If you have any other subtle decorative ideas, feel free to add your own ideas in the Comments.

Kuala Lumpur (KL) reminds me of Blade Runner, with ageing, decaying old buildings next to flashy architecturally innovative structures, interspersed with bright neon signs and too little greenery. At night, when you can’t see the crumbling bits too clearly, it looks pretty spectacular. During the day, you can’t help but wish there was an effective Town Planning Department managing the city’s strategy.

We stayed around the Petaling Street area, or Chinatown, as it’s known. I can admit that, in the past in various cities, I’ve been harassed by people selling pirated watches and handbags, or movies, or spruikers extolling the virtues of their clubs or restaurants, but it wasn’t until we were strolling down Petaling Street (and it’s pronounced Peh-TAR-ling, not PET-a-ling) that I was — for the first time in my life — surrounded by people hard selling … foot massages. Don’t ask me. Maybe the one thing KL tourists yearn above all else are relaxing foot massages. If you’re after one, go to KL’s Chinatown. Don’t look for them; they’ll find you.

When you’re suffering from the heat in Singapore, Singaporeans like to tell you smugly that at least their city’s cooler than KL. Don’t believe it. Not anymore. There is so much high-rise, crowded development in Singers that it’s difficult to draw a breezy breath anywhere. KL (with a maximum of 33 degrees Celsius for the days we were there) was relatively cool in comparison.

To be continued on Friday …

And Chapter Eleven of War Games is now available.

In the dark ruins of Sab-Inuk, Garza finally tells Cheloi one of her secrets, including her suspicion that it was Grakal-Ski behind their rebel capture. Cheloi is not too surprised by this, but is stunned when Garza tells her she is from the Fusion. She thinks this is a happy secret she can keep to herself, until she finds out Garza has told more than one person about her past. Cheloi’s life is about to get way more complicated.

FAVOURITE QUOTES:

“If you gave them information in an attempt to negotiate something like a prisoner swap, it was a wasted effort. Nothing, short of your miraculous escape plan, would have saved my life.”
“Saving you was the last thing on my mind.”

“I wanted to hate you,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I came prepared to hate you, for all you did to the people of this planet.”

“Grakal-Ski wants you dead,” she said abruptly.
“Yes, I imagine he’s been fantasising about that for the past couple of years.”

[EDITED to add] IPOCALYPSE UPDATE: Now a gentleman has obviously somehow got his hands on J’s number to ask for help with his Apple device. We’re sympathetic, but …

Yes, we’re finally back in the land of the virtually connected. With three machines up and buzzing around the Intertubes, life can finally start getting back on an even keel. In the meantime, lots has happened and I’m just sorry I missed out on commenting on so many great articles from people like Liane (congrats on your new Dorchester profile, Liane!) and Maria (and on your revamped website and always great ideas, M!), just to name two. With lots of additional links to follow, I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks.

What happened, you may ask? Before I continue, you need to know something. J is the reasonable, calm one in our relationship. I’m the person you probably wouldn’t like too much if you met me, especially if you annoyed me over something. After running through what little patience I had on the whole connection thing, I wrote a pithy email to whatever Time dot Com managers I could find suggesting, among other things, that their golf games were obviously more important than something as trite as “customer service”, and suggesting an alternative motto for their company. Within one and a half hours of that email being sent to the capital, Kuala Lumpur, four people were at our Johor house (a few hundred kilometres away), trying to correctly set up our connection. In the end, it didn’t come good till the following night but, while I still consider the upper management of Time to be gross incompetents (for reasons other than what’s detailed here), their people on the ground have, without a doubt, been courteous, friendly and helpful beyond measure. Thanks to the technicians who pulled significantly more cable than anticipated, and still completed the job on time, and to the Project Officer, Tahawi, who has to bear the brunt of customer complaints, in person, more than he should. Having said that, we still don’t have a phone (don’t ask), but at least we have the internet and Skype, so all’s not lost.

I also read about the launch of Apple’s iPhone, content to be an amused bystander watching the Apple lemmings rush their way to the store, and never thinking that we would get caught up in the iPocalypse ourselves. (We detest Apple, for Steve Jobs’ management style, for their arrogance, their closed architecture, their exploitative pricing policies, and other things that will come to me once I have another coffee inside me.)  You see, there’s some poor lady floating around Malaysia somewhere who somehow got J’s Malaysian mobile number and was under the mistaken impression that we were the local Apple store. She called, she sent SMSs, all to help with her iPhone, and didn’t quite believe us when we told her we were just private people and not part of the hospital-antiseptic-white brigade. We’re half-expecting another call from her later today, judging by the scepticism in her voice when she rang off last time.

And, just to finish, I know I’m behind with the Radio Free Bliss podcasts and will be initiating a more aggressive schedule and start sending out schedules and interview questions to all June and July participants this week. I’m baaaaaack!

I yearn, bereft of
juicy pork bits and parsley.
My stomach rumbles.

So, I’m on the hunt for a slab of smoked pork and a bunch of parsley, goddammit! It’s almost three weeks and no luck. This part of the world doesn’t use parsley as a matter of course. Coriander is the ubiquitous herb around. And I like coriander. But not in my pesto, or other pasta sauce.

As for the smoked pork, well Malaysia is predominantly Muslim. That’s not to say there are no Chinese shops selling porky goodness, because there are. But we have the same problem as we did in Singapore and that is, Chinese have a dreadful habit of putting sugar in EVERYTHING! It’s like honey-roasted pork with a coating of sugar syrup. If there are any Chinese out there reading this blog (and I’ll be asking my Chinese friends the same question), could you please let me know the name of the person who told you that sweetening and perfuming pork sausage (and I’m particularly thinking of lap cheong here) was a good idea? I mean, a little sugar with the spice is sometimes a nice thing, but in moderation, people! Sweet ham, sweet bacon, sweet sausage, sweet sandwich bread. I will never diss an olive again for as long as I live.

The only spot of brightness on the horizon is the realisation that Carrefour is opening a store here in a month’s time. It will be about a 20-minute drive from our house. Can I say that I doubt there has been a grocery shop opening that was looked upon with such anticipation? I even go there every now and then, and watch the delivery trucks arriving, just to make sure it’s actually happening. For all you non-Carrefour readers, Carrefour is a French chain of supermarkets. Cheese! Dairy! Pork! Parsley! Countless varieties of mustard! My sanity is saved … sometime in August.

So, while I wait for the weeks to tick away on feet of lead (Salsify! Escargots! Salmon!), Chapter Nine of War Games is now up at my site, regardless of what the home page may say. There is a confrontation between Rumis and Koul at the Nineteen’s HQ, subsequent to Cheloi’s capture by the rebels. Cheloi/Laisen has a discussion with Copan that he’s not happy with. And she remembers the love of her life, Eys.

FAVOURITE QUOTES FROM CHAPTER NINE

“Speaking of replacement, I think your assumption of command is just a little premature, Colonel.”
“As is your grasp of reality, Major.”

“I’ve always valued our talks, Doctor. I just wanted to make sure that I told you that.”

Her parents loved Eys. Hell, everybody loved Eys. People panted and trailed after her like puppies. Men and women, it made no difference. But she was Laisen’s. Only Laisen’s.

Just a note to any Total-E-Bound customers out there that TEB have revamped their website. Among the many new features is a free reads section. There are two pages of free reads there, which includes a contemporary short story of mine, as well as contributions from Desiree Holt, Sedonia Guillone, Dakota Rebel and others. Please be sure to go have a look. And happy reading.

Yesterday was also my day to write at Samhain’s blog, and I blogged a bit about moving, and changes, and what may have been overlooked in the process.

(*) ‘Cos there wasn’t enough for a grab bag.

Chapter Seven should have hit the pixels the day before yesterday and I’m following it up today with Chapter Eight. TW had a nightmare and I couldn’t get back to sleep, which explains why the chapter posting is extra early this morning!

What happened in Chapter Seven: Koul Grakal-Ski finds leverage against Garza and uses it to his advantage. He has a plan to eliminate Cheloi and gain command of Territory Fifteen, but he needs Garza’s cooperation to do it. Will she agree?

What is in Chapter Eight: While on a rendezvous with one of her more unconventional sector commanders, Cheloi and Garza are captured by rebel forces, and Cheloi gets to meet their notorious leader, Drel, face to face.

Go here to the War Games page, where you can catch up on anything you’ve missed.

Um, just wondering … how is everyone finding the serialisation? With the past couple of weeks to one side, is one chapter a week a good pace? Are you enjoying it? Not? Like to share?

According to the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, I should have died at the age of 8.9. Here’s the proof, in case you were wondering:

This is part of a Greenhouse calculator in the children’s “Planet Slayer” section of the website. Actually, when I first ran the quiz, I found out I was going to live forever. The next time I ran it, I tried to pick a carbon footprint that was a little bigger than the Average Australian (Pig) to see what would happen. And it told me to commit seppuku at 8.9 years of age.

Now, I don’t consider myself a particularly warm and squishy, Care Bear type. But telling CHILDREN that they should die at a particular age because they’re emittingresponsible for too many greenhouse gases is a bit … um … perverted? Also, although the way Planet Slayer is set out is geared towards kids, the questions are obviously aimed at adults. I mean, how many children you know travel by air on business? Or spend x thousand dollars a year? Or divide their annual expenditure according to “ordinary stuff”, “stuff that’s better for the environment” and — get this — “ethical investments”?

Not only, in my opinion, is this questionnaire in utter bad taste but it also commits a bigger crime of tarring all leftist types with the broad brush of lunacy. Even across the equatorial line, I can almost hear conservatives in Australia decrying the project using the usual tired lament: “Look at what these PC socialists are doing with public money! How irresponsible! They want our children to kill themselves, the immoral, godless, tree-hugging do-gooders!”. And, once more, people like me are lumped in with emotionally immature types that think A Message gives them permission to trample all over other people’s sensitivities.

“But I think that Greenhouse Calculator is entirely the wrong way to approach the subject,” I decry.
“But you think we should all be more sustainable, don’t you?” Conservative Superior snarls.
“Well, yes,” I splutter, “but not, not like thi–”
“You bloody greenie, bleeding hearts are all the same, using taxpayer’s money to come up with that drivel. You lot should be jailed.”

How can a sane socialist win? Here’s the article in the New York Post if you’re interested. The Creative Director, Bernie Hobbs, says: “We wanted to put the important things in perspective, and have a laugh along the way.” You chuckling yet?

For my slice of Internet bandwidth, I think The Three Trillion Dollar Shopping Spree handles another controversial subject in a much better manner that is more entertaining and educational than an exploding pig.

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And, as a footnote, Chapter Six of War Games is up.THE STORY SO FAR: Cheloi can’t fight the attraction she feels for her driver, but her lust is tempered by the knowledge that her entire mission could unravel if she is discovered. After four nights of stolen passion, she knows that — for her own and Garza’s sakes — she has to end the affair.