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- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming You’re the only one laughing. We women can’t help it if we’re more inclined to the beautiful aspects of God’s creation than the morose. Actually, I think it’s more that we can’t help it if the greater portion of guys are just…weird. But…I do have to agree with you that a mansion on the Pacific Coast would be, to say the least, inspiring. Have you ever been to Oregon? I’m sorry (not really), but Oregon has some very beautiful country, cliff-y (surely there’s a better word for that) and wide open. The beaches are misty and rocky and…ah, just look it up. I’ve only seen pictures that my grandmother and aunt took, but if I ever had to travel cross-country, I’d definitely find my way to Oregon. (For the land…not the politics.) I’d love to be in Scotland myself, since that’s from whence my entire (but for the small amount of Spanish, Irish, Portuguese, Danish, and Dutch, and…you get the point) family hails.
But yeah. I can definitely see you in a dimly lit room overlooking the dark cliffs, shrouded by a thick fog which deftly conceals the thunderous waves beneath. Ooo…like a Winslow Homer painting!
And I’m getting carried away now…by the wind…which swept through…Oregon? (And, yes, that was a Gone with the Wind joke. 😋)
@gracie-j Yes, I’m sure I am; I was laughing more at the difference between the two rather than one over the other. Yes, I have actually been to Oregon, but I didn’t stop. It was quite a nice bit of country with snow and tall trees. I haven’t yet visited their beaches, though. I see you’re partially a Scot. Well, so am I, though I’m more Danish than Scottish. And I’m more Irish than Scottish, as well. And believe it or not, I’m also part Dutch. And Finish, and Swedish, and Danish, and Welsh, and British, and American, and German, and Austrian, and English, and even perhaps Jewish. Though very little of all of these. But a lot of them as well.
Yeah, I can see me doing that, too; though I can feel it a bit more, I’m sure. I’ve never heard of Winslow Homer, but he does have detailed paintings. Quite nice ocean views!
(XD Ah, yes, I thought as much…)
- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming Hmm. You’ll excuse me if I totally ignore everything you just said about Oregon and jump right into your DNA. You see, genealogy is my second favorite ology. (Etymology is the first.) I’m pretty sure it’s 50% Scottish, something like 25% Irish, then little bits of pretty much every single Northern European nationality there is. The Spanish mixed with the Scottish at one point, and the Portuguese is Sephardi Jewish. Google Dr. Samuel Nunez–he’s my seventh great-grandfather. Actually, the Dutch on your part makes a great deal of sense. That would be your father’s side, right?
I hadn’t heard of Homer until my art class last semester. (I hadn’t heard of a lot of things until my art class, actually.) He was one of the few good points of the class. (I’m apparently not much a visual art person, although I do enjoy food. And ballet. And food, which is, yes, a visual art. I’m more musically inclined. And wordly inclined–which is obviously not a thing. *sniffles* It should be.)
🤣 I’m not going to let you live that down, dear sir. Gone with the Wind will haunt you ’til your dying breath, let me assure you. And now I’m the one sounding morose.
@gracie-j You’re excused, then. Well, then! I’m not disinterested in genealogy, myself. I work with that a lot with world-building in fantasy.
I have no idea the percentages of my own bloodline, but I do know that I’m at least one eighth Danish, possibly one eighth English, as well. I’m not sure about the others, though. I have no idea about the Dutch, though I think there’s Dutch on both sides of the family. Why would it make sense?
XD I agree; technically, food is a visual art. Many things are, in fact, visual arts. Take watching movies, for instance…
I am way more musically inclined that artistically (painting) inclined, as I’m not ashamed to admit. I’d like to get into painting someday, though. *absently hands the lady a tissue while staring up at the ceiling* I think many of us are wordly inclined. Some of us just don’t like coming out and saying a word that isn’t in the dictionary. I make up words all the time…after all, every word is a made up word. (XD)
Oh, gosh. I guess I’ll be dying soon. GOODBYE FOLK OF THE KINGDOM! I’M GONNA BE DYING, SO YOU’RE ALL INVITED TO MY FUNERAL…WHICH WON’T HAVE Much of a procession, I’m sure.
Trust me, though; I can be way more morose than the occasional low spell. It flows the other way around, too. Which can get strange. For instance, when I’m at other people’s houses and I’m not talking much (mainly for the fact that I don’t have anything to talk about), then somebody says something funny, and I let my large, booming laugh ring out. It’s funny sometimes, watching people’s reactions… okay, my laugh isn’t all that loud. But it can pretty loud sometimes.
- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming Thank you. *gingerly accepts the tissue to dab at her nose and eyes* I kind of made up the percentages myself, but I’m very sure of the Scottish. And, unfortunately, the Jewish is so little that there is, like, only 0.01 percent, but I count it anyway.
The Dutch on your part makes sense because of your surname.
All right, now that you’ve included movies, I think I’m switching to visual art. I totally forgot about how much I love to stare at the TV. I keep trying to paint myself (not paint myself, but paint as well…oh, never mind), but I don’t have the patience. I think that if I did, I might could manage something. But with the way art works today, I could glue some cookies crumbs onto a napkin and call it a masterpiece. (Not a bad idea, actually.)
Geez…when you put it like that, man…I hadn’t intended to kill you off so soon! Unfortunately, there is only one way to rectify this. You must read the book. Or else you should start planning the funeral. I suggest black roses and chrysanthemums.
Hey, I feel you. I think the moroseness comes with the creative genius. You know, the tortured artist stereotype. Which brings us back to that mansion enshrouded with mist…I think you should include a wrought iron fence around the perimeter. Those always invoke dark images. Then have someone do some landscaping, like a maze of bushes behind the house, with lots of old statues and cold stone benches. And gargoyles. And grotesques. I can see it now…
Oh, and your laugh’s not all that loud. I can barely hear it over my own guffawing and snorting. *lets out an even louder laugh than the last one, which only serves to make the atmosphere more awkward than anything else*
I burst out laughing immediately after reading your answer @not-so-secret-secret-assassin ‘s. I must say, it’s nice to have you back. I feel safer when I know where you are.XD
@leon-fleming
I like your choice. I feel like some amazing stories would be written there. Have you ever been to one of those countries that you mentioned?
@gracie-j Yea, I get what you mean. I count what I find out, that is.
Ah, I see about the surname. Though my original impression was English or German.
Yes, TV watching can be educational. Under certain circumstances, of course. I’m not all that up to date with modern art, though.
As much as black roses would befit the procession, I’ll leave out the roses entirely and choose bunches of raspberries instead. I’m actually inviting quite a few interesting personages to my funeral, many of whom, were at my wedding. For one, there’ll be Antony Elkwood (the professional author); Malcolm Hargreaves, Arthur Kingsley, and Eleanor Packington. These are only a few, of course.
Your landscaping ideas aren’t so bad; though if I did end up adding that iron fence, I’d fasten open torches at period intervals along the wall.
@kathleenramm Yes, in fact, I’d rather hope there to be some amazing stories written there. For, you see, that is a setting for an idea of mine…it would be in the mystery genre, of course.Unfortunately — and sadly — no. I haven’t been outside of the US, actually.
- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming This is starting to seem more real every day. I’m a killer. I’m a killer! *wails loudly, before realizing that’s probably a more selfish assertion, considering, you know, there’s actually a poor person on the brink of death* My condolences. I do wish that I could attend. (Actually, I’m terribly upset that I’ve missed your wedding. Was it long ago? And how is your widow–er, wife, I mean? I do hope poor Leon Jr, Milly Jo, Mary Kay, Billy Bob, Robbie Ray, Vera Jane, and little Sally Mae will be all right after you..uh, you pass away.) You see, business has arisen, and quite suddenly, I’m afraid. I’m being called away to Paris, believe it or not, where my dear friend Ernest has summoned me. You see, he has this splendid idea for a new work, but he’s in need of a title, and since I’m so good at titling stories, you see, I’ve taken his invitation (of sorts; it was mentioned in passing that I could stop by, if ever I were in the area). Anyway…that’s neither here nor there.
I do believe raspberries would be beautiful, but I wouldn’t know, for I’ve never actually seen raspberries used at a funeral. That will be very interesting, I think.
The torches…oh my, now that’s a very nice touch. Only I suggest using something, well, something a little more modern. You see, they’ve recently invented this thing called electricity, and it’ll keep your torches from extinguishing when the wind blows. You wouldn’t want any unsuspecting visitors to get lost at midnight, you know, and possibly never see daylight again. That would truly be a shame.
Oh, and I recommend not getting up to date on modern art. You see, I don’t think Warhol would look good displayed by your casket. Maybe something more…Van Gogh. Like Wheatfield with Crows. Definitely a fitting one–he painted it right before he committed suicide. And, oh, I just realized that you might find that a bit disturbing. Hmm. Maybe something Baroque. I’ve always liked the dark, depression shadows of that era. I’ll let you think about it–but once you’ve figured that out, give me a ring. I know a funeral planner–uh, art consultant who would be honored to, um, help you.
@gracie-j Don’t bother yourself. Your lacking presence won’t mar the landscape, I’m sure, as there will be quite a crowd on the green. Ah, yes. Actually, it was only about a year ago. I was visiting one of my stories, when I met this girl. Well, as things would have it, we got married after the second month. But anyways…the wedding wasn’t such a thing to fuss over, really. As for how she’s doing, she’s coming through just fine. That is, considering her usual temperament, she’s handling this quite a bit easier than I’d thought. Of course, there are the days spent weeping and the nights offer her no sleep. Strangely, I’ve been sleeping quite soundly the last few weeks. I’ve been having lots of strange dreams, though. The usual, I guess.
I suppose she and the twins will get over it in about ten years, but no one knows these days.
Oh, I see. Well, I hope you give Ernest a proper title, and may your traveling in Paris be smooth. Last I heard, Paris wasn’t doing too well.
Yes, the raspberries are a touch of my own. I particularly love raspberries; they’re my favourite fruit. And I assumed that after the evening is out, they’ll leave dark red stains on the wood of my coffin (I’m going the older fashioned way).
Actually, I chose the torches for their archaic-ness. One doesn’t see torches nowadays. Plus, I enjoy the flicker of the flames as they strike the air with their burning tendrils.
Naught disturbing, though I’ve definitively no interest in art, for that matter. I mean, of course, as the enthusiast. I’ll probably go with something of Thomas Kinkade.
Oh, yes? And who is this art consultant?
- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming Don’t bother myself?! Well, I never! *marches away, hoop skirt swishing behind her, checks flaming with fury, chest heaving with ragged breaths, muttering something that sounds like a curse under her breath*
Oh, I’ll enjoy Paris, have you no doubt! In fact, my trip is reserved for October 1923, so I suspect that the city will be doing rather well then. I’ll probably have to get rid of my long locks and go for a Dutch Boy bob, I’m thinking. Unfortunately, I’ve never looked good with bangs, and I seriously doubt the flapper style will fit me. Or Paris. I wouldn’t want to embarrass Ernest. Like you care.
Well, belated congratulations. I do think I’ve gotten you mixed up with someone else, though, since I thought that you’d wed sometime in 2011 to–what was her name? Lilith, that’s what it was. Ah, that’s why I’d thought you had been the one to marry Lil. The night demon connotations fit you very well. (BTW, that’s Jewish folklore.) What did you name the twins? I think Myrtle and Meryl would work very well, although I suppose my opinion’s long overdue.
Hmm. Raspberries. Like your final rasping breath. And red, like the blood gushing from the wound in your chest. Fitting. I can see why you like them.
Yes, torches are all well and good. But wouldn’t you rather have a long-burning ring of fire around the drawbridge I’m having installed? Fueled by your resident dragon, Lucy. (Had to make use of her somehow.)
Ah, Senor Muerte! A very distant cousin of mine, hailing from one of the Carolinas, I believe. He’s Catholic, you know, so I hope you don’t mind his frequent crossing himself and the little mutters he makes. I think he had a brother named Dante, who passed away some twenty years ago. Muerte did his funeral–eh, art. And their sister, Maria Diablo, did the embalming–ahem, hair and makeup. Si, si. They’re a colorful bunch. I’ll be sure to have them bring Muerte’s son Malvado. He’s a devil–ah, a dear.
@gracie-j *stares after the girl in slight dissatisfaction**raises eyebrows and shrugs shoulders* Emotional type, that one, He thought.
Well, have a pleasurable time in Paris, then, but take a bit of advise: keep your hair long, not short. I’d say that to any girl, though. As for the notes you made on fashion, well…let’s just say I’m not too well informed on that sort of subject. Especially historically speaking.
I’m sure Ernest has a fine briefcase.
I’m not too sure about that Lilith, demon connotation, and Jewish folklore, but rest assured, I was not married in 2011. In fact, I’ve never been married before.
Nay, I’ve named them James and Beatrice. A rascally pair, those two. Just a bit overdue, some would think, but it matters not, really.
Fitting indeed, though for quite some few different reasons. And it’s not actually my own funeral. That’s all staged.
Hmmm…I suppose the drawbridge will have to do, for in all cases, they do look usually exquisite and medieval. Especially in this era.
Okay, thanks, I’ll make sure to hire someone definitively not Mexican, Spanish, or Egyptian. How does Icelandic sound? Actually the man doing the funeral is very definitely English, and high up in their society, at that.
Tell me what you think of the Eiffel Tower.
- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming *sighs, mouth curling into a loathing sneer as she eyes the impertinent scoundrel–ahem, man* I’m sorely disappointed that you don’t like my bob. Humph. *twirls before a mirror, realizing that perhaps (but only perhaps) the man was right–short hair doesn’t quite fit her* Anyhoo…it’ll only take a few days it grow it all back out again; one of the perks of being half-mermaid, you see. We’re fast growers.
I’ll get you updated on Paris. I’ve always wanted to go, you know, so when the opportunity arose…well, I took it. I’m sure I’ll like the Eiffel Tower, but I’m most interested in the ballet. (And the Frenchmen. They have the most beautiful accents!)
*frown grows deeper* I would venture to say you adopted Jim and Bea, then. Or are they both lies–pardon me, figments of your imagination as well? Never married. Hmm. Are you contemplating joining the order of the monks then, or just waiting on the right woman? (I could see you as a monk–the bald spot would fit you.)
I’m more of a peach person myself (Georgia girl, y’all), but I personally think all funerals should include roses, staged or not.
About drawbridges with rings of fire fueled by dragons and Icelanders…I do believe you’ll need a lawyer. To draw up your last will and testament, you know. I’ll recommend my lawyer, the very Icelandic Dr. Dauði. He’s spectacular at wills, I’ve heard. (I wouldn’t know, since he handles all those lawsuits I’ve gotten into over the years–like that fire at the hotel. It wasn’t me, I assure you.) Oh, and you would bequeath to me your pet dragon? And your mansion? (Since, you know, you’ve really no wife to give it all too…) And your brain–I have a writers’ institute I’d love to donate it to. And that sleek Italian suit–I think I’ll sell it on Ebay. Do you know how much those get-ups go for? And your fortune of over a quarter of a million dollars? And your fondue fountain? And your…well, may I have it all?
@gracie-j Very well, then; I’ve never appreciated short hair on a woman. That is, short as in under three and a half inches. Approximately.
I’ve wanted to visit Paris as well, but for different reasons. I’ve never heard much about their ballet, though at the moment I’m attempting to configure for myself a French accent. You see, I’ll be learning French soon.
Calm yourself, Lady Johnson. As you will see later on, James and Beatrice both retained their full names. Their parents were both brought up in the very strictest of fine society in London.
Were you of the mind that I had married? (laughing) What a simply preposterous idea!! How absurd! Though I did lead you on a bit, didn’t I? Actually, I was playing the part of a fictional character of mine. He, Sir Malcolm Benedict Churchill Esquire, was lately married to the Lady Annette Preminger whose life taken up in the Theatre was one of devotion and gratitude. (Pardon me, if you will, for my rude gesticulations. They do hold some amount of merit, you know; I’m quite busy at the moment.) These two appear in one of my working novels entitled Epitaph, which, I think, may sprout some palatial income in the coming years. They, along with their disciplined children, the James and Beatrice mentioned above, have been staying at Harrington Manor for a matter of three and a half years now. Though, Mrs Churchill has long wished for the name to be changed. As for your question, yes. I am waiting for the right woman. I am also waiting on Time. Time has not offered up any opportunities besides the substantial waiting as of yet. As for monks…well, that in of itself is actually absurd. Me! Joining the monks…hah!
Yes, I suppose they wouldn’t stand for the absence of red roses…oh, well. It was wishful thinking on my part, to say the least. I do love peaches, though; they’re one of the few fruits which I do like. I actually have a peach tree at my house right now; the last peaches it produced were quite delicious. Everyone tried them.
I KNEW I’d seen you before. You were connected with that hotel fire down in Hampshire, weren’t you? My three cousins only just nearly avoided that, by the way. They told me all about it…
You know, I really don’t see why I should give you anything at all. I hardly know you, except for a bit of your written character, and I’ve only just met you as well. I might be inclined to bequeath some few trivial possessions to you, if you truly desire them that much. Nothing is leaving the mansion just yet. Annette is in possession at the moment.
Oh, come now, what would you do with my Italian suit? That cost me quite a pound, if you must know.
- Rank: Eccentric Mentor
- Total Posts: 1789
@leon-fleming Well, I’ve tried short hair several times, but I absolutely abhor it. There are only a scant few women who can make it work, but I’m not one of them. And my dad, like you, simply detests short hair on girls, so… I’m currently growing it out, you see, with no foreseeable plans of cutting it beyond the occasional trim. It’s a hassle to deal with, but that’s the price you pay for beauty.
I’ve been trying along and along to learn French myself, but I’ve only amounted to a few greetings and endearments (the most important phrases, mind you). However, I have several learn-to-speak-French records, some of which will teach me a few Christmas carols, so I’ll get there eventually, mon ami. As for l’accent, I’ve mastered my own. In fact, it’s so authentic that my family cannot even understand a word that I say half the time. (Frankly, I like my Bostonian accent better.) The trick is to drop the h and speak from your throat. And avoid as many contractions as possible.
*frown eases into a slow smile* You had me worried there, old chap. You see, I never can tell, not even with my own self, when something’s real or fictional. That, and you had led me on, just a wee bit, at least. That being said, your character sounds like a very intriguing person. Either that, or you play him well.
But that’s neither here nor there. I wasn’t being very sane in my thinking, was I? I simply must do something about that. For instance, I do believe you joining the monks is absurd. That being said, Time likes to her precious time, you know. But with a Higher Power in control of Time and Fate, one never knows.
Palatial income, you say? You do know I know what that means, don’t you? It means that your novel is slated to sell more copies than The Little Prince, The Hobbit, and Harry Potter combined. (Which is something I doubt you can predict…wouldn’t you say?) Well, at least it sounds interesting. Do your characters know you have such high expectations for them? Because I’ve made it known to a pair of my own–my beloved Keaton and Daisy, and I use beloved loosely–and so far they’ve been rebelling awfully. I think they see me as more an overbearing tyrant and less their best friend…who could kill them off at any given moment. Yes, yes. Don’t tell Sir Malcolm and Lady Annette–they’ll never forgive you, and then you’ll never get that palace. That’s unfortunate.
Have you had peaches and vanilla ice cream lately? I’ve found that’s one of the best ways to eat them. You don’t like many fruits, you say? What are your feelings on bananas? I’ve yet to find another soul on this earth who loathes them as much as I do.
What hotel fire? *ducks head, squirming beneath the man’s intensive gaze* And wherever is Hampshire? Why, I…I’ve never been outside the city limits. *winces when remembering she doesn’t live within the city limits in the first place* And, I-I know for a fact I’ve never seen you–I never forget a flame–uh, a face. I never forget a face. And I wasn’t on national television, being led away in handcuffs by a scruffy looking officer with an orange beard. No sirree, Bob. *huffs and crosses arms at the sight of the man’s disbelieving expression* I was cleared of those charges, I swear!
It wouldn’t mean much if I assured you that I am a good, trustworthy person deserving of all your riches, would it? About the suit…if I didn’t sell it, I could at least tailor it to fit my two-year-old brother. I think he’d look splendid in it. Nah. Never mind. You can keep it and wear it to the funeral.
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