Friday, February 29, 2008

She doesn't read

six random things about me? Well I wrote 13 and now here's another one...

14. She doesn't read the rules.

Here's the 7th to 14th random thing about me.

7. I fall in love with my heros. I'm a hopeless romantic. By the time you read my stories, this guy is second hand goods! (I've already had him and onto the next one.) Ahhhh love'em and leave'em - I guess I am a floozey at heart.

8. I love people who laugh. You can tell them at 50 paces. It lives in their voices. It's never very far away from them. They are usually optimistic, glass half full types. They are usually spontaneous. I'm a Kay Thompson/Elouise type. And I've never grown up. "Zara act your age!" What? Six and a half? Okay, but don't you see? I already am thank you very much!

9. I'm a chicken. Now if anyone says fun park to me I think, Oh no. What fun park? Is this the one where you have to ride stuff that scares the "beep" out of you? The one where everyone is having so much fun they are screaming in fear? Where they are trying to turn their stomachs inside out? And then have a greasy hamburger and keep it down? Maybe that's why I chose writing. If one has fun screaming then try sending out a manuscript. Yeah yeah. At least the hamburger stays put. I wish I could swish down a slope at G-force - yodling as I search for danger to thrill me... but go to 10.

10. I'd make a great rich person.

11. Why don't they make remote controls that have On/Off Pause/resume Volume-up/down?

12. Situations find me attractive. Red/yellow lights. Bank/supermarket queues. Mosquitoes. Dog poo and chewing gum. Flat batteries. Every size but mine in the best bargain of the century. Internet breaks down the minute my in-house comp-nerd walks out for more than a day (Lord He who would love to be obeyed.

Are you ready for it? The big one... the drums are rolling, the stage lights are all directed at the stage, ladies and gentlemen, the star of the blog...

Ms Zara Penney...

Ms Zara Penney...

Ms Zara Penney...

Ms Zara Penney...

13. We are very sorry but we couldn't find Zara Penney so here's her understudy.

(and I forgot to mention there's no doorbell on Zaraworld)

I've been tagged!

Well, been tagged (the anonym of tag is gag!) so here I go...

First of all, the rules.

1. Link back to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six random things about you
4. Tag six random people at the end of your blog entry
5. Let the tagged people know by leaving a comment on their blog.

Tagger: Gina Ardito (see her link on the right side)
Taggee: Zara Penney

1. I can cry at the drop of a hat. Basically I'm an actress at heart. I'd be great on stage but I freeze. I'm abysmal. So I write. But cry?
Weddings, funerals, movies, why I cry at the end of Pretty Woman and Seepless in Seattle!

2. I don't do sun,sand,surf. Apparently even when I was a few months old, I sat with a look of 'yuck' on my face and my hands in the air, on Bondi beach. I think I'm Eskimo - my stork was a deaf dork - he was told 'drop her in New York'. He misunderstood. Bondi Bloody Beach!

3. When I was little my sister's bedspread worked. Mine didn't. No matter how I tried, her's never had bumps. I tried swapping but it still didn't work. Same with ironing. Her pre looks like my apres. I don't mind ironing. It gives me an excuse to get information from Oprah on all manner of things. Menopause. Clooney. De-cluttering homes. But she never gave a program on ironing, maybe?... no won't go there.

4. I get lost very easily. I hate asking directions because I know I'm already lost again by the second 'go left then follow through until you get to the..." my eyes haze and I'm re-lost.

5. I wonder if I ever didn't have Altzheimers. I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on. "Zara you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on." My head doesn't have little pockets in it like other people. My sister remembers every little hurt I ever imposed on her. Even the cut-out dolls I used to draw - well I did keep my best for me... but then she had a perfect bedspread and I didn't.

6. Zaraworld. This is a universe in itself. The people who live next to it think it's a mystery. "Zara did you hear me?" Well, you want the long answer or the short answer? Never mind it's a universal, resoundig NO. You should knock. "Hello? Anyone there?" Chances are I'm down in the basement immersed in thoughts. Some profound, some insane, and some mundane. I try to come out long enough to please people but the portal is very slippery if your name is Zara Penney.

Unwitting list of taggees - you can visit them from my links list:
Sandra Cormier
Heidi Wessman Kneale
Paisley Scott
The Artful Muse
E.J. McKenna
Ali Katz

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

A bed time story for Zee.

Today Zee asked me for a bed time story. She wanted me to tell you about Altolvo the Magnificent of Italy. Of his fame, his daring. The man who was a white albino dwarf, and the Count of Mercato of Sicily. Well Zee, here is your wish...

Of course albinos dwarves with diabetes are quite common in Mercato. Indeed Sicily is well known for its mafiosa, its markets and its albino dwarves. But how did it come about. The mafiosa, the markets and albino dwarves.

Back in ancient times, Sicily was much desired by both Italy and many of the Mediterranean states from Egypt to Africa. It is said that the Queen of Sheba herself desired it above all else but despite all of Solomon’s wisdom and wealth, it was the one crown jewel he was unable to bestow upon her.

You see the secret of Sicily’s success is the Count of Mercato. The court of Count Mercato was a rich and wealthy place. It’s influence spread far and wide, and his army was so powerful. Nobody ever really understood why. In fact they never understood, though it was boasted about, this huge army, nobody ever saw any evidence of it. No! Absolutely none! Not a single guard. Not a single soldier.

Yet if one googles properly one can continually find mention of Altolvo the Magnificent. He was said to be one of the greatest Sicilian generals of all time. And led his fearless followers into battle.

And hence this tiny island has nestled in eternal safety amongst those that have continually desired its central Mediterranean geography. Where wine grows in abundance and fruit of the land is rich and generous. Where olive groves shade the hot and weary. And wear goats offer generous milks which readily transform into cheeses such as feta and yoghurts and Philadelphia Cream Halumi.

Now you might be asking what albino dwarves? Of course you have never seen one. There isn’t even a likeness of the great Altolvo himself. Not a single sculpture nor sketch nor carving. Nor description. Yet his memory is so vivid amongst Sicily’s native sons and daughters. It is because they all had sugar diabetes. They are small, white and melt away in the heat.

Eventually they sent their sons to all parts of the world. Where the breed grew both in numbers and stature. We have all known the activities of these descendants of the Sicilian albino dwarves. They flourished especially in the United States of America in the twenties during the prohibition. The alcohol proved most beneficial to the particular kind of Sicilian albino dwarfism. The most famous of them was Marlon Brando followed by Al Pacino, and James Caan. Yes you are surprised. All three of them are descended from the famous white albino dwarves of Sicily. Yes, I know you are shocked and never suspected this. But listen to that song, that famous song, you are humming it inside your head. It will probably stay with you all day long. In fact it was written on the spirits of the ancestors of these men and others.

The albino dwarves of Sicily.

But it is all true. Just Google it and see for yourself.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Back to editing.

And a deadline. My mood isn't high. I've got a pile of ironing behind me here at Coward's Castle.

Truth is I really don't hate it. I can plot while I just mindlessly iron.

Back, forth.
Back, forth, fold.
London. They race through the streets. She looks behind her.

"Quick, turn here!"

Quim looked into the mirror. The black limousine was still behind them.

"They realise we've seen them. Hold onto your seat!"

Pillow slip.
Back, forth
Back, forth,fold.

She screamed. Really loudly. This was way beyond her comfort zone. Way way beyond.
But then so was imminent death. That was all they were faced with if Crosby got to them before...

Back, forth.
Back, forth.

Up Barker Street. A little old lady was crossing the road. "Look out for the the little old lady!"

Back, forth.
Back, forth.

They swerved. Hit a parked car.

Back, forth.
Left side.
Back, forth.

"Why don't we drive past the police station down on Sir Humphrey Nightpole Square?"

Back, forth.
Right side.
Back, forth.

He swerved back onto the road. She glanced at the parked car. It's owner was emerging from his house, fist raised. She also glanced back behind them. The black limousine was there, relentless and threatening. Big, black, solid and

Back, forth
Hang the shirt.


Saturday, February 2, 2008

Rainy Days and Sundays Always Let/Get me Down

I suddenly realised as well as I know this song - at least this chorus, I won't ever win that million dollars on that show that tests your knowledge of songs you should know well.

Take My Fair Lady for intance.

I could have pranced all knight.
I could have pranced all knight.
And still have begged four more.
I could have spilled my beans
And made a thousand stains
And still have stained some more.

I should have grown and made it so inviting
Why every dunce could do it once or twice...

I only know when he began to prance with me

South Pacific:

I'm gonna wash that Zit right outta my hair
I'm gonna wash that Zit right outta my hair
I'm gonna wash that Zit right outta my hair
and zend on his vay.

I know a lot of songs like this. My mother used to sing. My sister and I learned them at my mother's knee. Including foreign songs.

Only she's not so good at grabbing the words. I once lived in a place called Kfar Hassidim. She could never say it.

She could only ever say it like one well known clothing chain, (French Connection) we all know and love but can never say allowed...

Fcuk Hassidim.

You wouldn't be able to be my mother and survive Jerusalem. But then could Jerusalem survive my mother?

Back to writing. This was just a little bit of divergency. I'm in edit mode. This means pondering for ten minutes over a comma. It means cutting out whole paragraphs of exsquisite prose. FOREVER! It means you've used the name for half the novel and suddenly for some reason changed the dog's name. But it also means that you've reached the end of your precious months of toil. That you are on the bendy end of the envelope. That you can beg for your rejection slip well before Xmas so you can enjoy the cake and eat it too.

Just in case you are wondering about Baby. She has now officially outgrown the little baby doggy bed she came home in. Now she wears it like a tortoise shell. This is a game. She hops under it and walks around with her tail out doubled over it. Fluffy shitzu tail. She's gorgeous.

Now would you like me to sing you -

I'm as Horny as Canvas in August?

okay, ready?

I respect everyone of my crowd to have fun
and make loud restorations of faith in their pants,
And they'll say I'm so sweet like a baby to sneeze
on the table so near while my mother just rants.

Fearlessly I'll face them and argue their pouts away,
Loudly I'll spit about breadcrumbs that spring,
Flatly I'll stand on my little flat feet and say
Two 'flat' words ain't a beautiful thing!
I'm not ashamed to reveal
The world famous feelin' I feel.

I'm as horny as canvas in August,
I'm as formal as blueberry pie.
No more a smart little tart with no heart,
I have found me a wonderful buy!

I am in a contentional dither,
With a cementable star in my pie.
And you will note there's a grump in the boat
When I speak of that wonderful buy!

I'm as right and as any gay and as crazy,
A ricochet comin' through!
I'm repetitive and trite
As a spoon-crappy fight
Pourin' fright on the dune!

I'm as horny as canvas in August,
If you'll refuse an repression of juice,
I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love with a wonderful buy!

I'm as frightfully gay as a crazy inmate,
In a rich Roman zoo!
I'm nomadic and tight
As a moon-happy knight
Pourin' light on the dune!

I'm as horny as canvas in August,
Fight like a nag on the Fourth of July!

If you'll excuse an repression I choose,
I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

I'm in love,

Nellie and Girls
I'm in love with a wonderful buy!