Author has written 7 stories for Spider-Man, Sekaiichi Hatsukoi, X-Files, and Batman.
I like nearly any type of music, except gospel. It hurts my ears.
Enjoys writing: really I like to write about anything. Well, depends on my mood. I'm not really good, but that doesn't matter.
i also watch WAY TO MUCH TV, but I still find time to read all the wonderful stories.* yawns*
Favorite Tv shows: Dexter, Law & Order SVU, All My Children, Supernatural, Charmed, Batman, Spider-Man, and so many more...its just so hard to chose only one. *o*
i love anime/ manga. I haven't meet one I don't like, some of my favs are Secki Ichi Hatsukoi, DeathNote, Bleach,JunjoRomantica,Naruto, High School of the Dead (scars the crap out of me, cuz me and zombies don't mix well but I love it anyway.) ...
I LOVE DRAMA. Enough is NEVER enough for me.
Did I mention soap operas are my bread and butter, there so fun. also unlike most shows where you have to wait a week to see them, they come on every weekday. Yay!
i am also an EXTREME perfectionist.
i try to remain open minded, I will always try something before I say I hate it.
if anyone has a question for me, feel free to PM. Vile comments with be ignore and/or deleted.
ZOMBIES ( really I dislike, detest, and despise them, and those are just the D words.)
Writers Block ( it burns)
Darwin, Rolling Over
The first quail came hungry
in summer. How quickly the pair
plumped on cultivated night
crawlers, snow peas and raspberries.
We saw them build
beneath the yarrow, watched
them tend their hatchlings,
noticed how frost thinned
the covey. Still, two became eight.
Became thirty. More.
The cats might have culled
the flock, but we kept
our tabbies inside, sequestered
from predators like paparazzi
wary monks. Jackrabbits
had also deserted the sage, in favor
of garden bounty, pursued
by coyotes, slothful gourmands
who found easier meals in trash
can pate and cream
fattened feline tartare.
Perhaps the dogs could
have prevented their nocturnal
patrol, but our papered spaniels
were easy targets
for ticks and briars.
Bathed in oatmeal shampoo,
coiffed to feathered silk,
they lounged on leather
sofa cushions, slept in pillowed
crates, dreaming of swimming
pools, tennis balls.
Now, when winter night snaps
too hard, the quail, countless, leave
evidence of their moonless
nesting on the hot tub cover.
Come morning, they shake
warm tails, forage beneath
the well-stocked bird feeder, heedless
of cats, yawning and posturing
at the French doors, or dogs,
listening to the purr
of the coffee maker, knowing
the can opener‚Äôs promise
Believe what you will
about Darwinian theory,
it is not natural
selection, but rather extraordinary
adaptation that will save‚Äî
or doom‚Äîwhat remains.
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