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This is just a perpendicular line to the brain
I have not written any novels, so I cannot participate in the meme that is making the rounds of my friendlist (see ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matociquala, stillsostrange). But this is as good a place as any to mention that my oldest real story, "Stone Song," has been accepted by norilana for her new anthology Sky Whales and Other Wonders, in which I know time_shark also has a piece. This actually happened while I was in Orlando at the ICFA; it was one of the many wonderful elements of the conference about which I have not yet posted in any substantive way. To make up for this oversight, have a picture of me in a hat.
The hint of fair hair and blue-shirted shoulder on the deck chair behind me is David Swanger. About the same level of identification is possible for Eric Van's knee. Taken by Greer Gilman.
Left to right, I can identify Lila Garrott, Patricia McKillip, Greer Gilman, and Eric Van. Also my hat. Taken by Cheryl Morgan.
This is not my hat. These are Lila's feet. That sounds like a surrealistic lyric. (The hands with the silver ring, however, do belong to me.) Taken by Greer Gilman.
Our third night at the conference, I went downstairs after dinner to look for people. The previous night, there had been roaming and music. But the outdoor pool was almost deserted; other than a cluster of smokers outside the door, all I saw were three raccoons and a possum, which looked up at me from three feet away in the rhododendrons, unimpressed. I don't think they were anyone I knew. But if any of my friends were to have transformed into raccoons or possums, the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts would have been a completely believable place to do it.
Meat pie time!
matociquala, stillsostrange). But this is as good a place as any to mention that my oldest real story, "Stone Song," has been accepted by norilana for her new anthology Sky Whales and Other Wonders, in which I know time_shark also has a piece. This actually happened while I was in Orlando at the ICFA; it was one of the many wonderful elements of the conference about which I have not yet posted in any substantive way. To make up for this oversight, have a picture of me in a hat.The hint of fair hair and blue-shirted shoulder on the deck chair behind me is David Swanger. About the same level of identification is possible for Eric Van's knee. Taken by Greer Gilman.
Left to right, I can identify Lila Garrott, Patricia McKillip, Greer Gilman, and Eric Van. Also my hat. Taken by Cheryl Morgan.
This is not my hat. These are Lila's feet. That sounds like a surrealistic lyric. (The hands with the silver ring, however, do belong to me.) Taken by Greer Gilman.
Our third night at the conference, I went downstairs after dinner to look for people. The previous night, there had been roaming and music. But the outdoor pool was almost deserted; other than a cluster of smokers outside the door, all I saw were three raccoons and a possum, which looked up at me from three feet away in the rhododendrons, unimpressed. I don't think they were anyone I knew. But if any of my friends were to have transformed into raccoons or possums, the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts would have been a completely believable place to do it.
Meat pie time!
no subject
I never used to sunburn, actually.
As a young 'un, I would darken to a color like bark while my hair went nearly white. I was a proper dandelion sprite. As I grew older, I'd burn, then peel and be tan underneath. These days, both hair and skin play lobster.