The easiest way to get my eBooks on an iPhone: search “Clemens Suter” and hey presto!

All over the globe – get my Books on you iPhone or iPad ! Or iPod for that matter. I happen to have a iPhone myself, and it is a great machine, isn’t it? I like iTunes mostly as a music player myself. I like its ability to view my music as albums, artists and songs, the searching capabilities are great stuff. The way albums open into color-matched track listings is attractive. And I use the playlist extensively, e.g. I have playlists like “play all music that I love and didn’t skip in the last three years”. These are Smart Playlists, with a breathtaking number of options available for user-created Playlists it is incredibly powerful – and with thousands of songs, it is a fantastic way to listen to music  that I haven’t listened to for a long time.Things like that. I like the UI of Now Playing. It is easy to add entire albums or individual tracks, and reorder them.

But iTunes is undervalued as an eBook store. I see more and more people actually reading eBooks on their iPhone, but the functionality of iTunes as a bookstore is meager – when compared to the functionality as a music store. Still the biggest advantage is that if you read eBooks on your iPhone, you need just a single device to enjoy both music and reading – at the same time.

Acclaim for TWO JOURNEYS

 “Move over, Cormac McCarthy, another survivor is traveling the Armageddon road. Clemens P. Suter’s apocalyptic thriller grabs you in the first couple of pages and never lets go. The reader feels real empathy for the main character’s plight as he begins a seemingly impossible 9,000-mile trip to learn his family’s fate. The cause of the calamity is mysterious but clues are uncovered along the way causing tension to build until we reach the shattering climax. Two Journeys is not to be missed.” – G. Dedrick Robinson, author of Blood Scourge

More about my books here: www.clemenssuter.com/books

iToons

Clemens P. Suter books on iTunes, iPhone

 

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I am always interested to hear from my readers, people who own one of my paintings, or those who are interested in my projects. Do not hesitate to reach out by using the contact form. Submissions are spam checked – best is not to include any links. Likewise, check your spam-box for my reply.

Why use this contact form?

Now, you may wonder, why should you use the contact form? Perhaps you want to tell me about a great book that you have written, and are looking for ways to cross-promote, or learn more about how to publish books. You may have a specific question about my novels or my paintings. You may need a present urgently for a loved one. Perhaps you have a question about one of the places that I traveled to. Or it could be late at night and you are drunk & lonely playing tedious computer games, and now you are looking for some alternate excitement and action. Perhaps your pet parrot has died, and you need tips on how to cremate its remains. Or you murdered your spouse, and the police is moving in on your house, the whole damn place is surrounded and you are getting a bit worried as they are getting ready to storm your home. Or you are in doubt whether you should continue your job as a pet shop janitor versus having a tattoo on your forehead and moving to Nepal and become a Buddhist monk. And you need advice. Or a shoulder to cry on.

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Clemens Suter and Buddy

Give money to homeless street beggars ? What do you think?

We visited Paris a few months ago. As soon as we left the train and the station, we met a beggar, and a few streets on the next one… and then the next one. How to deal with this as a tourist? Emotionally, we wanted to give money, rationally we hesitated: would the Parisians be pleased if millions of tourists start funding beggars, potentially increasing their numbers ? What will an individual beggar do with the donation? Buy food, finance a roof for the night, or god forbid buy drugs? Or is the beggar part of a commercial enterprise? Shockingly, there were couples getting ready for a night on the street with small babies. Should that be supported that?

Just like tipping and charity, giving money to homeless people has a bad side to it. It crowds out community and state involvement. A minimum existence should not be left to the whims of tourists. Shouldn’t it be something that we collectively decide to guarantee for everyone? In the perfect society, there ought to be no need to beg, there shouldn’t be a need to rely on the irregular kindness of passing people.

A dilemma. In the end we think we found a way out of this. We started counting the number of beggars that we met. We tripled that number and after we returned home we searched and found a charity in Paris that supports homeless people. We donated the calculated sum to that organization. Not the best solution, but workable.

Read more here: http://www.clemenssuter.com/tag/writing

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Unacceptable behavior by a fellow citizen #bananapeel #unacceptable #shitholecountries

Tsk tsk tsk! Indeed, only a few minutes later, an elderly lady slipped on this banana peel and badly hurt herself! I continued to observe the situation for half an hour, but luckily enough no further accidents occurred. Clean up your garbage, folks! This isn’t a third world country.

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CELETERRA. An Adventure Novel set on Earth & in Heaven. 100+ Pages of High Speed Adventure.

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Shocking secrets hide within a simple cover

Vance descended into the cellar. He found the light switch. They entered the space where the Biedermeier desk had stood. Quickly, he walked into to the wine cellar. He passed by the empty barrels. His hand searched for the handle behind the paintings. He pulled it and the hidden door opened with a click. Fumbling in the semidarkness, he made sure that the lever remained hidden behind the old paintings. He switched on the light in the secret room. He retraced his steps and made sure that he hadn’t left any footprints in the dirt of the wine cellar. He turned off the basement light, reentered the room, and pushed the door shut behind him. After hastily opening the cans of food, he switched off the light in this room too, as he was afraid that it might spill into the night through some hidden shaft. Vance drank first and then allowed the hound to drink. They ate their food in the darkness, the dog wolfing it down hurriedly. Vance ate a can of cold peas, which was not very tasty but at least rich in calories.

After that, they stretched out on the damp sand. Vance was exhausted and he shivered uncontrollably. Obviously his body was trying to get rid of some substance, some poison – a drug. He tried to recall how to combat withdrawal symptoms, but under the circumstances, he could only think of drinking a lot of water. In a way, he had been lucky. His stomach had been upset the last few days and due to that, he hadn’t eaten much and had mostly turned to drinking plain tap water. The amount of drugs in his bloodstream must have gone down and as a result, his head had slowly cleared.

The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. He began to realize that the occurrences of the last weeks were all interconnected. The rococo table, Darwin’s letter, this mansion, the religious sect, Enrique and the fake heaven – they were all interrelated like threads that stick out of a ball of wool. He felt that if he would follow just one of those threads, he would arrive at the core of the ball. Again he imagined that an instigator was waiting there, waiting for him. An individual, pulling all the ropes, manipulating the lives of many people, the perpetrator that had organized Vance’s ordeal.

Who had been in the car that had driven away as he had arrived at the house? What had this visitor been up to at this mansion? He was almost certain that this person had seen him, possibly even recognized him. Had this been the mastermind behind the entire affair?

With that question in his mind, he fell asleep, exhausted.

His sleep was filled with nightmares. He was hunted by wild animals, lions, and tigers. He tried to escape by climbing up a tree, but its bark was wet and slippery and his hands could not get a hold. A male lion came closer and closer, staring at him, both evilly and indifferent.

Eugene woke him up. The dog trembled and growled softly and Vance quickly put his hand on the animal’s snout. They listened. After a while, Vance could hear sounds. As he had suspected there was a shaft or a pipe leading from the ground level down into the cellar. It ensured that fresh air could reach this hideout, even when the door was closed. Now, that shaft transported the sounds from the outside world down to him. A car approached slowly, its wheels grinding on the gravel of the driveway. The engine was almost inaudible. Vance imagined that it was a big vehicle.

Was this the same car that he had seen departing earlier? The car stopped and the engine was switched off. Absolute silence followed, only interrupted by the ticking sounds of the cooling motor. Then several doors opened. Feet stepped onto the small stones. After a few seconds, three doors closed softly. Vance strained his ears. Slow footsteps approached, toiling on the gravel.

With his eyes closed, Vance imagined three, perhaps four men. He imagined that they were going towards the back door. Suddenly it was silent again. Eugene stirred. Vance stroked the animal’s head and went sssh. They waited. It remained silent for a long time. Vance thought that half the world must be able to hear his breathing. He opened his mouth wide to reduce the sound as much as possible.

A man’s voice could be heard, whispering, but unexpectedly clear. They must have stopped very close to the exit of the shaft.

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WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange has been a refugee in the Embassy of Ecuador in London for 5 years. The country is looking for ways to change this.

Turning off the heating, water leaks, loud music, or putting a blaring baby in the guest room: we all have our own favorite way to get rid of unwanted guests. As the international press has reported, Julian Assange is becoming a bit of a nuisance. How can Perdí Miscanicas, the current Ecuadorian Ambassador to London be helped? Should he…

  • Pack everything into cardboard boxes, and move the embassy to a new building, without telling Julian Assange?
  • It is no secret that Julian Assange loves frozen yoghurt. Julian will come running out of the building if a dairy van parks in front of the embassy and starts advertising a new flavor, for instance strawberry, vanilla, chia and goji berry.
  • Change the diet of all embassy personnel to include copious amounts of onions, beans, cabbage and other flatulent foodstuffs, topped with garlic, at the same time closing all the windows.

I continuously confuse Julian Assange with Nigel Farrage (in fact, the former was visited by the British Donald not too long ago), initially I thought this was because of the (slight) similarity in their names. But now I know that it is the dystopian gleam in their eyes that causes my nomenclature confusion.

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