For---*ahem*---those of you assassins.

Hi. 

I just thought a word or two of wisdom from Merlin was in order. 

Logical, as always.
*cough*sarcasm*cough*

Forgive me: School's in. 

Pictorial: Me explaining to you.

I have decided, out of the goodness and grace of my loving heart, to give you a beginning-of-the-year gift. And that would be my new link *points up above head* right there. Yeah, the one that says "Pictorial".

pic·to·ri·al

  [pik-tawr-ee-uh l, -tohr-ee-uh l]  Show IPA

adjective

1.

pertaining to, expressed in, or of the nature of a picture.

2.

illustrated by or containing pictures: a pictorial history.

3.

of or pertaining to the art of painting and drawing pictures, the pictures themselves, or their makers: the pictorial masterpieces of the Renaissance.

4.

having or suggesting the visual appeal or imagery of a picture: a pictorial metaphor.

noun

5.

a periodical in which pictures constitute an important feature.

6.

a magazine feature that is primarily photographic.

Well, to get straight to the point of things: I AM REALLY STINKIN' TIRED OF SHARING A VERY VERY FEW PICTURES ON THIS BLOG. (Seriously, why do I have to have a 1 gigabyte maximum space on my Picasa web album?? Curse you maximum space requirements!!)

And so I built a photography blog on Weebly.com.
But you already knew that.
What you didn't know was that every once in a while, me, myself and I get together on a lunch break and decide to be creative and have brainstorms and eat toast and drink hot chocolate. During these pleasant little reunions, me, myself and I occasionally happen to combine pictures and words together (what? No. Never. This is definitely not inspired by Pinterest. Nu-uh. No way.).
Well anyway, these three were feeling nice and generous, and decided that they wanted to share their work with you, that you may also, if desire, share it with others.

These little thing-a-ma-jiggies are just another sort of 'salad bug', but more picture-like than word like. They might have quotes from other people, or simply quotes from the three---me, myself and I. They might have my own original pictures, a solid color, or some other random object from the universe as a background. They might occasionally look like what some call "memes" and what others call "funny". They might be snippets of a book---written or otherwise. Or from a movie---acted on the stage of life or the cinema's.
In essence, they are a combination of things I see and things I hear.

And you friend, are allowed to do with them what you like.
www.kismint-pictorial.weebly.com

I hope you are pleased.

K-Minty Plinkadink

Haphazardly Implausible || Book Review

Well before I wish you all a happy future, I believe it to be time to (DUN DUN DUN) cue the lights and cut the curtain for a book review.

*enter picture here*

Haphazardly Implausible, people. Good book, great author (wait-a go Jack!!). And before reading anymore, you must bounce over to her blog and tell her how fantastic she is. NOW. 

Really, you should know that I'm no knowledgeable whiz kid when it come to books or literature. Especially not books about airships and Europe. I seriously fail when it comes to history/geography, and I've never chomped down on anything steam punk before. Needless to say, this book was a new genre for little ol' me. 

* * *

The book begins with Scottish people in a Scottish place. This is rather lovely, as it gives me freedom to think of these characters with some sweet accents. From their it jumps between multiple peoples and places, all on their own conquests to find what they're looking for. 

Peter, Tony, Steed, Darcy, Kirk, Isidore, Jack, Singur, and the others. All lovely people with complex backgrounds and personalities to match. My favorite(s) had to be Darcy, with Peter close behind. Kirk and I became fast friends, I could almost empathize with Isidore and his struggles with Jack O'Malley, Steed and Tony were both gems, and Singur...well Singur left me wanting a bit more out of him, but I have faith that in the coming books he'll blossom into a very well-rounded fellow of fiction. 

After reading Haphazardly Implausible I'm very interested in reading Jack's collection of short stories: Kirk, Lisbeth's Choice, and Reveille, and so when I get a chance, I'll be getting my hands on those. 

I won't say much concerning the story, for fear that I will slip a few spoilers. 

---Ah! That's another shining moment of this book: the mystery. Seems like everyone has a secret---or if not secret, a past that's not to be spoken about. These little eye-catches feed you brain and keep you interested. When reading, I typically try to solve and resolve the plot twisters before the characters do. With HI, I was totally clueless (though I nearly caught Hogan's revelation before it had been...revelated), which is a pleasing thing. 

There are handfuls of pros, plot being the most prominent.

The cons are few, and I can only think of two:

1) A slight unbelievability. I know---I know, it's steam punk, it's fictional, etc. BUT when Singur decides to take a swim with a bag of explosives, it occurred to me that no matter how much of a genius he might be, this dude has no hope of not sinking to his drowning doom (especially as only a few minutes ago, he was about to pass out). 

2) There were scatters of little typos. I am no person to be in the position of accusing someone of typos (yes, we call all laugh hysterically and roll our eyes at this). And however many times you read a manuscript, you are never going to find each and every little error. Thus, (no worries Jack) we shan't shoot the author. 

Aside from these two points of the story, I really couldn't find anything else to turn my nose up at (yes, I know I'm picky ;). 

A lovely book with lots of potential. *cough*movie adaption*cough*

So read it, enjoy it, and be excited for the sequel(s)!

* * *

And now I can wish you a successful future by saying "Happy New Year!"

K-Minty

*sigh* Yes. More Poems.

Because blogger is a bit of a pain, I'm very close to running out of storage space for any pictures on my blog. There. That explains the lack of photographs over the past posts. 

However, I thought it would be nice to combine some of my photography with three of my newest poems (yes, written for dear bloggy-friend Lauricia ;). My solution was to create a YouTube video out of them. 

So here 'zey are. 

Song: No One tells Me Anything || Windsor Airlift

0:00 - "Broken Trust"

1:29 - "Eyes of Ages"

2:59 - "Words Align"

Alas, the first one is really quite sad. :(

The second is a bit foreboding, but I mean it to have a pleasant conclusion. :)

And the last...well the last is me sympathizing with all my fellow writers. ;)

Despite the sadness of it, I really must say that I favor most the first one. It's a sort of apology. But it doesn't end there where the lines stop. Instead, the reader (that's you) gets to imagine that the speaker is forgiven. In the end, wrongs do come to right, and the sun shines out all the brighter. 

That's the thing when it comes to story telling. The story doesn't end. It just sort of continues behind the scenes. And that is why we can believe that every tale---great or small---does have a happy ending...eventually.

'Tis all.

God bless,

(a book review may or may not be coming soon)

K-Minty

Lonely Stand

Due to *cough*popular demand*cough* I give you yet another poem devised by me, myself, and I. 

I decided to feature this ten-liner in a new story idea (that I doubt will ever see the light of day), so I may as well give it to you now. 

In foggy window dawn has reached 

Past oceantide the sun has breached 

Through stormy rain of silver showers 

Near twilight trees and golden flowers 

The cottage slept in nighttime sigh 

With drowsy snore and sleepy eye 

We watched as flames leapt in firey daze 

And caught yonder forest in fearful blaze 

'Till scream awoke the world at hand 

And fell to silent lonely stand

The end for now, my friends.

Reindeer Nightcap

A Christmas special from the gang at Humphreys Peak.

* * *

Rory and Amelia Fysh sat on the blue, navy, and white plaid-stripe love seat, surrounded by mounds of fluffy red and green tissue paper and scattered, sparkling Christmas tree tinsel. Perched nearest the fireplace, Robert Thorpp was bundled in fleece and flannel nosily sipped at a mug of hot coffee, while his best friend, Lue Malkovitch leaned back against the brick and mortar of the mantel, garbed in his signature black trench coat and with his eyelids half closed in luxurious ease and relaxation. In the armchair, stately but comfortable, was Dr. DiLona---rather, "Peter"---who watched all in the room through his little round glasses with bright eyes and warm, content smile. And finally, at the foot of the grand Christmas tree, flanked by the remains of the torn package wrapping (which had been composed mostly of newspaper and brown lunch sacks), was Brent Dobkin, sitting cross-legged and still taking inventory over his new drawing pencils. 
They were laughing, talking, arguing, explaining, and generally spreading the joyous Christmas cheer as follows the ideal picture of "peace on earth and good will to men". 
"Hey Peter!" Quipped Robert Thorpp above the general chorus of chatter. DiLona gave him a questioning smile, his eyebrows raised.
"What's that Hobbes?" Hobbes played a sly smile and the firelight twinkled in his eyes.
"So...eh...when am I gonna see you wear your new reindeer cap? I mean, seeing as it really brings out the color in your eyes and all." Peter chuckled and pulled out his newest item Christmas clothing attire, courtesy of Hobbes. It was a nightcap interpreting a sleepy reindeer with rolling ping-pong-ball eyes, a lolling tongue, and droopy antlers that dangled past Peter's shoulders when placed on his head. 
"You know, I was thinking it would go well with my lab coat." Dryly stated the proud owner of the reindeer cap. Hobbes and the rest started to crack up as the watched the doctor bobbed his head, causing the nightcap's eyeballs to bobble up and down.
"You know sir," Began Rory with a mock air of seriousness. "Not only does it bring out the color in your eyes, but it also complements your features and skin tone quite nicely."
"I say, Hobbes, where on earth did you find such an ugly thing in the first place?" Asked Amy, reaching to pull some of the tinsel out of her husband's hair. Hobbes took another draught of his coffee, and after setting it down, he replied. 
"As it so happens, I didn't find it, I made it. With a little help, of course." He caught Brent's eye and they exchanged smirks. Peter looked at his half brother with conviction. 
"Oh, so I have you to blame for this too?" He accused. Brent smiled a bit awkwardly, and retorted.
"Not blame. Thank. Besides, it was Malkovitch's idea to begin with." He pointed at Lue, who was grinning, despite the fact that he was studying the back of his eyelids. 
"A real team effort, eh?" Asked Peter. 
"Sure was." Confirmed Lue, confident and cool as ever. 
"All right, enough with the doctor's precious cap, we're all jealous of it, and that's that." Said Amy.
"Yeah, real jealous." Mumbled Brent.
"---And now," Continued Mrs. Fysh. "I have one last present to give to you, dearest." After hopping to her feet and kissing Rory on the top of his head (where tinsel still hung from), she retrieved one last gift from the antique bookshelf and plopped it into Mr. Fysh's lap. 
"Well c'mon then, let's see what is is!" Urged Hobbes. Brent stopped fingering his new artist supplies and even Lue cracked open his eyes to see what this final remaining parcel might be. All attention was turned to Rory, and the room grew quiet as his finger gentle tugged and tore at the wrapping. When at last opened and fully reveled, the receiver beamed. 
"A Bible!" Exclaimed he, in awe of the elegant leather work that bound the golden-edged pages together. It was indeed a Bible: a fine example of God's Word, complete and with the name "Fysh" embossed on the front of it. 
Rory smiled, swelling with pride. 
"Ah! It's beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!" 
"Mm, I figured you might need a new one after the dogs---eh---decided that book binding was a delicacy to be feasted on." Explained Amy, glowing with gladness over the fact that her gift had been so well received. 
"May I?" Asked Peter, gesturing to the Holy book. Rory placed it in his hands. 
"Why," Peter DiLona breathed, "It is indeed beautiful." He flipped through the delicate pages. "Such a masterpiece---a work of art in literature, and in Truth. There is, to be sure, no better book to be found in all the world." 
Hobbes watched as the Bible was reverently handed back to Rory. He had an idea.
"Say, Rory, read us something will you?" Rory nodded, and without further ado, opened to Luke Chapter 2 of the New Testament.

"In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. 

 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. 

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah,the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” 

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

Christmastime

It came upon a shooting star
So far away in height of dark
Through moonshine night and shady eve
In blackest sky above the earth

A hope anew: a brilliant light
To cleanse the world of sinful strife
And leave it's mark for us to bear
A silver love for all to share

We sang the carols of glistening yule
And danced 'neath gleaming boughs of green
Brought to the hearth with hearts of gold
Where story of joy was fourth foretold

The Savior, great and beautiful he
Born to us in humble state
In manger lay in peaceful sleep
While blessed night of Christ grows late

I saw it all through eyes of past
I saw the smile, the glimmer-eye
The wintry glow of snow to last
Through the heavenly window of the skies 

And when I woke I woke from word
I knew a voice I thought I heard
His gentle whisper, in my ear:
"Awake, for Christmastime is here."

With love,

Kismint Plinkadink