Wrinkled pillars,
In four corners
Of aging flesh
And clotted fears,
Abandoned life
Of no more use
To those who watch
Blatand abuse,
A Web of viens,
Pumbing out blood
In a rust pool
Of yellow mud.
Who will avenge
Sorrow and pain
Of this blameless
Animal slain?
(Apologies for the morbidity. This was a nightmare that needed to be written out)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monarch Review
MONARCH
by Michelle Davidson Argyle
Rhemalda Publishing
Nick's career as a CIA agent has led to many secrets in his life, from the distrust of his daughters, Clara and Violet and their mutual hatred of each other, to the betrayal of a trusted associate and the suicide of his wife, lies have become a part of what he does. But now he is wanted by both the CIA and Ferriera, the Brazilian drug lord he was assigned to bring down, for a murder he never committed. In his quest to clear his he visits the Bed and Breakfast of Lillian Love, an old and brief flame he has never quite been able to get out of his mind. He hopes that her vacation house will be the perfect place to hide himself and his daughters without too many questions asked, but the betrayal of trust runs deeper than he thought. As he returns to Cuba to dig up his past he wonders exactly who he can trust, including himself, with danger infiltrating itself into every corner of his life.
MONARCH is both an exciting thriller and character driven love story, full of gun fights, kidnappings, ex-lovers, and broken marriages. But above all it a journey through hard, cold reality and human pain and destruction, to hope and new beginnings. The prose is vivid and poetic without being overdone, while the plot is both fast paced and intricate, eventually merging several plot lines into a riveting climax, transcended by the strength each character discovers for themselves, and eventually ending in forgiveness.
The strangest thing about my personal experience with this book is that the settings kept mirroring the place I read it. I started reading it on vacation before I knew that a good fifty percent or more takes place in a kind of hotel, then I went swimming just before the first scene in the lake and then hiking just before the first scene out in the woods. An eerie coincidence to say the least. Almost made me think there was a drug lord after me. Thrillers aren't usually my genre (though I will read an Elizabeth George mystery ever now and again) but good writing is and MONARCH was full of that. It's definitely worth a read if you like good, honest characters with equal parts selfishness and heroism, and a storyline laced with excitement and romance.
by Michelle Davidson Argyle
Rhemalda Publishing
Nick's career as a CIA agent has led to many secrets in his life, from the distrust of his daughters, Clara and Violet and their mutual hatred of each other, to the betrayal of a trusted associate and the suicide of his wife, lies have become a part of what he does. But now he is wanted by both the CIA and Ferriera, the Brazilian drug lord he was assigned to bring down, for a murder he never committed. In his quest to clear his he visits the Bed and Breakfast of Lillian Love, an old and brief flame he has never quite been able to get out of his mind. He hopes that her vacation house will be the perfect place to hide himself and his daughters without too many questions asked, but the betrayal of trust runs deeper than he thought. As he returns to Cuba to dig up his past he wonders exactly who he can trust, including himself, with danger infiltrating itself into every corner of his life.
MONARCH is both an exciting thriller and character driven love story, full of gun fights, kidnappings, ex-lovers, and broken marriages. But above all it a journey through hard, cold reality and human pain and destruction, to hope and new beginnings. The prose is vivid and poetic without being overdone, while the plot is both fast paced and intricate, eventually merging several plot lines into a riveting climax, transcended by the strength each character discovers for themselves, and eventually ending in forgiveness.
The strangest thing about my personal experience with this book is that the settings kept mirroring the place I read it. I started reading it on vacation before I knew that a good fifty percent or more takes place in a kind of hotel, then I went swimming just before the first scene in the lake and then hiking just before the first scene out in the woods. An eerie coincidence to say the least. Almost made me think there was a drug lord after me. Thrillers aren't usually my genre (though I will read an Elizabeth George mystery ever now and again) but good writing is and MONARCH was full of that. It's definitely worth a read if you like good, honest characters with equal parts selfishness and heroism, and a storyline laced with excitement and romance.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
So today I'm thinking about music. Actually TODAY I'm thinking about the fact that my Western Civilization class finally added me back after dropping me the first day because I had a driver's test and didn't show up (yay persistance)and the fact that I just got a novel chapter length e-mail from a friend in China who I haven't talked to in probably a year. (Actually I've never talked to her at all the for real, in person kind of way, but we've been internet friends since we were both in high school seven or eight years ago.) A member of my crit group also just moved to Japan and another friend I've know forever is going to move there in December. Why is everyone suddenly in Asia?
At any rate, YESTERDAY, when I decided what I was going to ramble about today, I was thinking about music and so now I am about to start thinking about that again.
Music. If I were the type to use, music would be my drug of choice. I used to be a music major and sometimes it just felt like a bad addiction. I HATED being on stage. I hadn't decided to learn any kind of instrument until I was sixteen and had no natural aptitude for any of the ones I tried. And yet somehow I couldn't stop. I wanted to know music. I wanted to be music. To control with a twist and weave of my fingers the way my classmates did. I wanted it to obsorb me completely, and take me to whatever majical place it trickled down from. Becuase how could anything so sweet, so perfect, so exciting, come from our world? How could it even be compared with ordinary life?
Maybe that's why it didn't work out for me. Chopin and Motzart and Joplin and the unknown composers of folk tunes were too unreal for me. Too Other. I couldn't think of them with the casual, every day aditude the other musicians had. They played music. That was what they did. There wasn't anything special about it. It was just a part of who they were.
Some people like to say there is no such thing as inner born talent. People who say that have never seen my little brother pick up an instrument he's never touched before and start playing. Talent needs to be nurtured. It sometimes manifests itself later in life or when you least expect it, but it exists.
So my allotment of musical talent is small. That doesn't mean I don't still fiddle around on the piano from time to time. That doesn't mean that my fingers don't twitch when I hear a strain of particularly etherial flute notes and long more than anything to be the one holding that flute. It just means I know where my stronger talent lies. The one that is just a part of who I am. What I do.
Writing.
I wonder sometimes if when those classmates played their finals all they heard were their mistakes. I wonder if they agonized about them afterwards and went over in their heads about what went wrong.
Actually I know they did. I listened to them do it sometimes. "I held those notes too long. Did you notice when I acidently hit a mnor chord instead of a major?" To which I laughed nervously. Manically. I didn't hear their mistakes. What I heard was magic, otherworldly.
So then I look at my drafts. The long ones, and short ones, and finished and unfinished ones. The run on sentances and typos and over use of the word "saids" and wonder if my readers will even see those. That doesn't mean I'll ever stop agonizing over them or trying to find the exact perfect turn of phrase but I wonder if--or maybe hope that --my readers might see past the mechanics. If maybe to them the story itself will seem otherworldly.
At any rate, YESTERDAY, when I decided what I was going to ramble about today, I was thinking about music and so now I am about to start thinking about that again.
Music. If I were the type to use, music would be my drug of choice. I used to be a music major and sometimes it just felt like a bad addiction. I HATED being on stage. I hadn't decided to learn any kind of instrument until I was sixteen and had no natural aptitude for any of the ones I tried. And yet somehow I couldn't stop. I wanted to know music. I wanted to be music. To control with a twist and weave of my fingers the way my classmates did. I wanted it to obsorb me completely, and take me to whatever majical place it trickled down from. Becuase how could anything so sweet, so perfect, so exciting, come from our world? How could it even be compared with ordinary life?
Maybe that's why it didn't work out for me. Chopin and Motzart and Joplin and the unknown composers of folk tunes were too unreal for me. Too Other. I couldn't think of them with the casual, every day aditude the other musicians had. They played music. That was what they did. There wasn't anything special about it. It was just a part of who they were.
Some people like to say there is no such thing as inner born talent. People who say that have never seen my little brother pick up an instrument he's never touched before and start playing. Talent needs to be nurtured. It sometimes manifests itself later in life or when you least expect it, but it exists.
So my allotment of musical talent is small. That doesn't mean I don't still fiddle around on the piano from time to time. That doesn't mean that my fingers don't twitch when I hear a strain of particularly etherial flute notes and long more than anything to be the one holding that flute. It just means I know where my stronger talent lies. The one that is just a part of who I am. What I do.
Writing.
I wonder sometimes if when those classmates played their finals all they heard were their mistakes. I wonder if they agonized about them afterwards and went over in their heads about what went wrong.
Actually I know they did. I listened to them do it sometimes. "I held those notes too long. Did you notice when I acidently hit a mnor chord instead of a major?" To which I laughed nervously. Manically. I didn't hear their mistakes. What I heard was magic, otherworldly.
So then I look at my drafts. The long ones, and short ones, and finished and unfinished ones. The run on sentances and typos and over use of the word "saids" and wonder if my readers will even see those. That doesn't mean I'll ever stop agonizing over them or trying to find the exact perfect turn of phrase but I wonder if--or maybe hope that --my readers might see past the mechanics. If maybe to them the story itself will seem otherworldly.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
What I Haven't Been Doing
Writing. That's what I haven't been doing. Not really. Not in proportion to all the time I've had lately to devote to it. Instead I have been
Going to costume parties
Sitting around the backyard firepit
Exploring Beaches
Going to More costume parties
Exploring more beaches
Having Tea
And generally making a hoolagin of myself.
You may remember a post of summer goals a couple months back. Let's see how I have fared.
1) Query----I sent off six. Does that count?
2) Finish my current WIP --- I'm about thirty pages further along than I was
3) Write short stories with particular magazines in mind for them ---Uh . . . I started one new story but didn't finish it
4) Read --Well this one was a lot easier. I got quite a bit more than usual reading in.
The point is that despite the fact that I am only six days away from returning to a classroom to run my mind through obstacle courses. Despite the fact that my free time will soon be so sparce that every moment of it will be spent before I get to it. Despite the fact that my list of goals and list of accomplishments for this summer look nothing alike. . .
I don't regret the way I've spent my time.
Stillness is a difficult lesson to learn.
Sometimes we need a little quiet, a little inspiration, a little experience. All writing is ultimately about life. What's the point if we don't live as well?
Going to costume parties
Sitting around the backyard firepit
Exploring Beaches
Going to More costume parties
Exploring more beaches
Having Tea
And generally making a hoolagin of myself.
You may remember a post of summer goals a couple months back. Let's see how I have fared.
1) Query----I sent off six. Does that count?
2) Finish my current WIP --- I'm about thirty pages further along than I was
3) Write short stories with particular magazines in mind for them ---Uh . . . I started one new story but didn't finish it
4) Read --Well this one was a lot easier. I got quite a bit more than usual reading in.
The point is that despite the fact that I am only six days away from returning to a classroom to run my mind through obstacle courses. Despite the fact that my free time will soon be so sparce that every moment of it will be spent before I get to it. Despite the fact that my list of goals and list of accomplishments for this summer look nothing alike. . .
I don't regret the way I've spent my time.
Stillness is a difficult lesson to learn.
Sometimes we need a little quiet, a little inspiration, a little experience. All writing is ultimately about life. What's the point if we don't live as well?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Three is a Magic Number
Eek. Now I have school house rocks stuck in my head.
But on to important things, there are three of them that I should like to pass on to you.
First, I have been accepted into the society of The Secret Archives of the Alliterati! Starting tommorrow I will be blogging there on Thursdays along with L.T. Host on Monddays, Keriann Greaney Martin on Tuesdays, Matthew Delman on Wendsdays, and K. Marie Cridle on Fridays. I am so excited to be in such good company! it is going to be so much fun! Taliesin will still be here though to house my book reviews, character interviews, dabblings in poetry and any other contemplations more vaguely connected to writing.
Second, L.G. Smith over at Bards and Prphets has granted me the honor of the Stylish Blogger Award. Thank you L.G!
Here are the rules:
1. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.
2. Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
4. Have faith that your followers will spread the love to other bloggers.
5. And most of all - have bloggity-blog fun!
And in addition I am meant to reveal seven things about myself. I am going to cheat and call my first anouncement (about the Allitarti. You remember that one don't you?) number one and my last anouncement (still to come) as my seventh. That leaves five in between.
hmmm.
I wear hats. A lot. I'm sort of an addict.
I sometimes (now for example) come into Starbucks and use their wifi without ordering a drink but consider myself justified by remembering how many times I come in to use or not use their wifi and DO order a drink
I cut my hair for the first time in my life last month (apart from trimming or layering) and LOVE it.
I can't dra unless they are stick figures and even then the lines aren't very straight.
At one point I declared myself a music major and took a year of music theory . . . before realiziing I didn't actually play an instrument
And who to pass this deluctable award on to . . .
1) Anita Grace Howard at A Still and Quiet Madness because she is always so generous in passing on awards and I'm stillin love with her blog name
2)Yvonne Ozbourne at The Organic Wirter for her different persectives on writing and other pieces of life
3)Adam Heine at Author's Echo because he lives half way aorund the world and still blogs for us
4)Lydia Kang and The Word is My Oyster for her fantastig drawings at the beginning of her posts and her insightful plot related medical advise.
5)Stephanie Thornton because she makes me love ancient history as much as she does
You seserve it. I love reading your posts!
And now for my final piece of all important information. I have at last joined the collective and am on twitter. Sntill o idea what I'm doing at this point but follow me at taryn_tyler so I can find you!
How's that for a long and undirected post? have a good week friends and happy writing!
But on to important things, there are three of them that I should like to pass on to you.
First, I have been accepted into the society of The Secret Archives of the Alliterati! Starting tommorrow I will be blogging there on Thursdays along with L.T. Host on Monddays, Keriann Greaney Martin on Tuesdays, Matthew Delman on Wendsdays, and K. Marie Cridle on Fridays. I am so excited to be in such good company! it is going to be so much fun! Taliesin will still be here though to house my book reviews, character interviews, dabblings in poetry and any other contemplations more vaguely connected to writing.
Second, L.G. Smith over at Bards and Prphets has granted me the honor of the Stylish Blogger Award. Thank you L.G!
Here are the rules:
1. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.
2. Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
4. Have faith that your followers will spread the love to other bloggers.
5. And most of all - have bloggity-blog fun!
And in addition I am meant to reveal seven things about myself. I am going to cheat and call my first anouncement (about the Allitarti. You remember that one don't you?) number one and my last anouncement (still to come) as my seventh. That leaves five in between.
hmmm.
I wear hats. A lot. I'm sort of an addict.
I sometimes (now for example) come into Starbucks and use their wifi without ordering a drink but consider myself justified by remembering how many times I come in to use or not use their wifi and DO order a drink
I cut my hair for the first time in my life last month (apart from trimming or layering) and LOVE it.
I can't dra unless they are stick figures and even then the lines aren't very straight.
At one point I declared myself a music major and took a year of music theory . . . before realiziing I didn't actually play an instrument
And who to pass this deluctable award on to . . .
1) Anita Grace Howard at A Still and Quiet Madness because she is always so generous in passing on awards and I'm stillin love with her blog name
2)Yvonne Ozbourne at The Organic Wirter for her different persectives on writing and other pieces of life
3)Adam Heine at Author's Echo because he lives half way aorund the world and still blogs for us
4)Lydia Kang and The Word is My Oyster for her fantastig drawings at the beginning of her posts and her insightful plot related medical advise.
5)Stephanie Thornton because she makes me love ancient history as much as she does
You seserve it. I love reading your posts!
And now for my final piece of all important information. I have at last joined the collective and am on twitter. Sntill o idea what I'm doing at this point but follow me at taryn_tyler so I can find you!
How's that for a long and undirected post? have a good week friends and happy writing!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
What You REALLY Didn't want to know.
I know. I said I would put this up last week after the other meme. There may have been a sojourn to Disneyland that put my inclination to blog on hold. I appologize.
However . . .
What has now been a couple weeks ago Anita Grace Howard tagged me in Greenwoman's Diabolical Panty Meme to end all memes (about underclothes)!
I won't be offended if you click on the back button right about now. I really won't.
Nonetheless:
What do you call your panties / underwear / undergarments? Do you have any commonly used nicknames for them?
Just 'underwear'. Every once in a while I have a boring answer for you. *Grins sheepishly while you all snort at the "once in a while"*
Have you ever had that supposedly common dream of being in a crowded place in only your underwear?
No. But I have had it before without the underwear.
What is the worst thing you can think of to make panties out of?
Iron. What if a feary wanted to wear a pair?
If you were a pair of panties, what color would you be, and WHY?
Black and white stripes. To represent duality. And because black and white is the best possible combination of colors --becuase it is both all of them and none of them and just looks really cool.
Have you ever thrown your panties/underwear at a rock star or other celebrity? If so, which one(s)? If not, which one(s) WOULD you throw your panties/underwear at, given the opportunity?
Not unless I sleepwalk and don't know it, which is, I suppos,e a possibility but you would think at least one memeber of my household would have mentioned that habbit to me. The sleepwalking that is, not the underwear throwing. I would hope they wouldn't find out about that one. If it existed.
You’re out of clean panties. What do you do?
Wash some?
Are you old enough to remember Underoos? If so, did you have any? Which ones?
I don't beleive so. The image that comes to mind is a kangaroo in long johns.
If you could have any message printed on your panties, what would it be?
"To be worn and not seen"
How many bloggers does it take to put panties on a goat?
Three. One to provide the goat, one to provide the panties and one to provide the jokes. I volunteer for the final possition *pauses to a chorus on groans*
Tag Four People and tell them why you are being so cruel to them.
1. L.T. Host because you are foolish enough to invite me to join you at The Secret Archives of the Alliterati and I want to remind you what you are getting into.
2. Erin Kane Spock because you have the word bloomers in your blog tittle and I want to know what you will have to say about sixteenth century underwear.
3. L.G. Smith because this is my sick way of thanking you for the Stylish Blogger Award I have yet to pass along.
4. Laila Knight because you were brave enough to become my newest follower and I figured it would be best to get the embarassing part of our introductions out of the way as soon as possible.
Happy writing and enjoy your underwear!
However . . .
What has now been a couple weeks ago Anita Grace Howard tagged me in Greenwoman's Diabolical Panty Meme to end all memes (about underclothes)!
I won't be offended if you click on the back button right about now. I really won't.
Nonetheless:
What do you call your panties / underwear / undergarments? Do you have any commonly used nicknames for them?
Just 'underwear'. Every once in a while I have a boring answer for you. *Grins sheepishly while you all snort at the "once in a while"*
Have you ever had that supposedly common dream of being in a crowded place in only your underwear?
No. But I have had it before without the underwear.
What is the worst thing you can think of to make panties out of?
Iron. What if a feary wanted to wear a pair?
If you were a pair of panties, what color would you be, and WHY?
Black and white stripes. To represent duality. And because black and white is the best possible combination of colors --becuase it is both all of them and none of them and just looks really cool.
Have you ever thrown your panties/underwear at a rock star or other celebrity? If so, which one(s)? If not, which one(s) WOULD you throw your panties/underwear at, given the opportunity?
Not unless I sleepwalk and don't know it, which is, I suppos,e a possibility but you would think at least one memeber of my household would have mentioned that habbit to me. The sleepwalking that is, not the underwear throwing. I would hope they wouldn't find out about that one. If it existed.
You’re out of clean panties. What do you do?
Wash some?
Are you old enough to remember Underoos? If so, did you have any? Which ones?
I don't beleive so. The image that comes to mind is a kangaroo in long johns.
If you could have any message printed on your panties, what would it be?
"To be worn and not seen"
How many bloggers does it take to put panties on a goat?
Three. One to provide the goat, one to provide the panties and one to provide the jokes. I volunteer for the final possition *pauses to a chorus on groans*
Tag Four People and tell them why you are being so cruel to them.
1. L.T. Host because you are foolish enough to invite me to join you at The Secret Archives of the Alliterati and I want to remind you what you are getting into.
2. Erin Kane Spock because you have the word bloomers in your blog tittle and I want to know what you will have to say about sixteenth century underwear.
3. L.G. Smith because this is my sick way of thanking you for the Stylish Blogger Award I have yet to pass along.
4. Laila Knight because you were brave enough to become my newest follower and I figured it would be best to get the embarassing part of our introductions out of the way as soon as possible.
Happy writing and enjoy your underwear!
Monday, July 25, 2011
What You Never Wanted To Know
This week is going to be meme week. I have been sitting on a couple of rather hilarious memes for awhile and now information you never wanted to know about me shall be released into the wild. You have been forewarned.
And the best part? I get to tag you and force you to release similar information into the brambles of the internet. Mwahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK so you don't have to participate if you don't want to but I hope you do.
To begin with my crit partner Keriann Greaney Martin tagged me in a meme that may look familiar at first but on closer examination becomes deliciously twisted.
ehem
Are you a rutabaga?
Not to my knowledge. Though if I were I would want the dolls from Francess Hodgson Burnette's Rackedy Packed House to make a ten course meal out of just me so they can immitate the snooty dolls at Tidy Castle but have much more fun linking arms and dancing in a circle until they fall over.
When was the last time you ate lion meat?
When I was six and had just watched The Lion King. My mom would tell me she was feeding me hot dogs but I knew better.
Upload a heartwarming picture of something that makes you smile.
My feet and my sisters' feet hovering over a very familiar rug at a very familiar starbucks where I do most of my writing.
If you could go back in time and kick the crap out of someone, who would it be?
Nepolean. Really, one shouldn't go around turning revolutions into dictatorships. Not OK.
Name one habit that makes other people plot your demise.
Not planning their demise first.
What song would you like to be playing while you are kicking the crap out of someone?
"I'll Make a Man Out of You" from Disney's Mulan.
Where da muffin top at?
Drurry Lane? On top of the hill I think. Very cute little bakery but hard to find.
How many goats, stacked atop one another like Yertle's Turtles, would it take to reach the moon?
One with a good imagination and paper and ink. Some unusually evolved hooves that allow him to use afore mentioned instruments would also be useful.
Describe yourself using obscure Latin words.
Apoc hoc (take this)
Pax vobiscum (Peace be with you)
. . . I learned my Latin phrases from reading Walter Scott novels in high school so they aren't very extensive. The first was shouted while the speaker was stabbing someone, the second while the speaker was disguised as a priest. Consider the description as a contrast of extremes. Both sneaky and straight forward, violent and peace loving. Or maybe just really confused and doesn't know much Latin.
Why does evil exist?
Because good does.
What the chiz are you thinking right now?
That my previous answer was obnoxiously trite like something meaningful but unhelpful a wise mentor would say to a hero while he was in a tight spot.
-----------------------------------------------
So there you are. A lot of information you never wanted to know about me. And now for the fun part.
I get to tag as many people as I so choose.
Oh the power.
The diffictult part is in choosing people I don't already know have been tagged.
1. Roland
2. Tara Maya
3. Summer Ross
4. Karen Amanda Hooper
Pick a funny nickname for number 1.
Rollick. Yeah. I made a pun from your name. Consider this a sheepish grin, that is half apology half revel in the mischief.
Make up a rhyme about number 2.
Magic and intelligence with a touch of art
Risk taking bohemian, not afraid to start
on her own.
She won't moan
If her whimsical ink-sweat is not highly paid.
Where would number 3 hide in the event of the apocalypse?
I can't speak for certain but I think she would grow wings and fly away.
Where does number 4 purchase her pants?
. . . Somewhere in New York would be my guess. Other than that I don't know but its enough to make me just a touch jealous.
And later this week . . . an even stranger meme.
And the best part? I get to tag you and force you to release similar information into the brambles of the internet. Mwahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK so you don't have to participate if you don't want to but I hope you do.
To begin with my crit partner Keriann Greaney Martin tagged me in a meme that may look familiar at first but on closer examination becomes deliciously twisted.
ehem
Are you a rutabaga?
Not to my knowledge. Though if I were I would want the dolls from Francess Hodgson Burnette's Rackedy Packed House to make a ten course meal out of just me so they can immitate the snooty dolls at Tidy Castle but have much more fun linking arms and dancing in a circle until they fall over.
When was the last time you ate lion meat?
When I was six and had just watched The Lion King. My mom would tell me she was feeding me hot dogs but I knew better.
Upload a heartwarming picture of something that makes you smile.
My feet and my sisters' feet hovering over a very familiar rug at a very familiar starbucks where I do most of my writing.
If you could go back in time and kick the crap out of someone, who would it be?
Nepolean. Really, one shouldn't go around turning revolutions into dictatorships. Not OK.
Name one habit that makes other people plot your demise.
Not planning their demise first.
What song would you like to be playing while you are kicking the crap out of someone?
"I'll Make a Man Out of You" from Disney's Mulan.
Where da muffin top at?
Drurry Lane? On top of the hill I think. Very cute little bakery but hard to find.
How many goats, stacked atop one another like Yertle's Turtles, would it take to reach the moon?
One with a good imagination and paper and ink. Some unusually evolved hooves that allow him to use afore mentioned instruments would also be useful.
Describe yourself using obscure Latin words.
Apoc hoc (take this)
Pax vobiscum (Peace be with you)
. . . I learned my Latin phrases from reading Walter Scott novels in high school so they aren't very extensive. The first was shouted while the speaker was stabbing someone, the second while the speaker was disguised as a priest. Consider the description as a contrast of extremes. Both sneaky and straight forward, violent and peace loving. Or maybe just really confused and doesn't know much Latin.
Why does evil exist?
Because good does.
What the chiz are you thinking right now?
That my previous answer was obnoxiously trite like something meaningful but unhelpful a wise mentor would say to a hero while he was in a tight spot.
-----------------------------------------------
So there you are. A lot of information you never wanted to know about me. And now for the fun part.
I get to tag as many people as I so choose.
Oh the power.
The diffictult part is in choosing people I don't already know have been tagged.
1. Roland
2. Tara Maya
3. Summer Ross
4. Karen Amanda Hooper
Pick a funny nickname for number 1.
Rollick. Yeah. I made a pun from your name. Consider this a sheepish grin, that is half apology half revel in the mischief.
Make up a rhyme about number 2.
Magic and intelligence with a touch of art
Risk taking bohemian, not afraid to start
on her own.
She won't moan
If her whimsical ink-sweat is not highly paid.
Where would number 3 hide in the event of the apocalypse?
I can't speak for certain but I think she would grow wings and fly away.
Where does number 4 purchase her pants?
. . . Somewhere in New York would be my guess. Other than that I don't know but its enough to make me just a touch jealous.
And later this week . . . an even stranger meme.
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