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Her hair was green as seaweed and her skin was blue and pale
Because I was all underslept and enthused earlier, I forgot to mention that in addition to the fantastic conversation and books (that I would most likely have remembered I can't afford if I hadn't had the example of happy book-buyers around me to tempt me from the paths of righteousness and shelf space), I now own a beautiful print that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nineweaving, rushthatspeaks, gaudior, and eredien all got for me at Vericon. It's The Calling, by LA Williams. I am informed that each person independently saw the picture and thought I might like it:
It has a mermaid. It has trees and water. (It has a shofar . . .) These are people who know me. Thank you.
I have too little art in my apartment. Right now I have a large framed print of John William Waterhouse's A Mermaid hanging over my bed (it's one of my favorite paintings; I love the study, too, and I'm even fond of The Merman) and another of Michael Parkes' The Creation on the opposite wall, but that's it for my bedroom. And in the other room, there's another mermaid and a fantasia on Anasazi petroglyphs, and a calendar of gargoyles. The blankness has been remarked upon. But slowly I am filling up the white space on my walls, and then I can start worrying about how to move all of the pictures when I move out . . .
Does anyone know the name of a children's picture book in which a mermaid is swept by a storm over the dykes in Holland and is discovered, stranded, by the local families? I read it in elementary school and have never seen it since: I believe that her name is Seanora ("swept out to sea, swept out to sea") and that she does eventually return to the sea, although not after she has told stories about her life under the waves to the young boy who has befriended her; he may help her, but I wouldn't swear to that point. She has pale-green hair, which his family insists on covering so the neighbors won't stare, and they try to teach her to milk and spin and sew like a normal girl, not nibble on seaweed and stare out forlornly at the weaves. I've been thinking about this book on and off for days. I think it's based on a folktale, but may not follow the same trajectory.
The sea-connection made me remember: check outpapersky's "A Candlemass Poem" currently up at Lone Star Stories. It's beautiful.
nineweaving, rushthatspeaks, gaudior, and eredien all got for me at Vericon. It's The Calling, by LA Williams. I am informed that each person independently saw the picture and thought I might like it: It has a mermaid. It has trees and water. (It has a shofar . . .) These are people who know me. Thank you.
I have too little art in my apartment. Right now I have a large framed print of John William Waterhouse's A Mermaid hanging over my bed (it's one of my favorite paintings; I love the study, too, and I'm even fond of The Merman) and another of Michael Parkes' The Creation on the opposite wall, but that's it for my bedroom. And in the other room, there's another mermaid and a fantasia on Anasazi petroglyphs, and a calendar of gargoyles. The blankness has been remarked upon. But slowly I am filling up the white space on my walls, and then I can start worrying about how to move all of the pictures when I move out . . .
Does anyone know the name of a children's picture book in which a mermaid is swept by a storm over the dykes in Holland and is discovered, stranded, by the local families? I read it in elementary school and have never seen it since: I believe that her name is Seanora ("swept out to sea, swept out to sea") and that she does eventually return to the sea, although not after she has told stories about her life under the waves to the young boy who has befriended her; he may help her, but I wouldn't swear to that point. She has pale-green hair, which his family insists on covering so the neighbors won't stare, and they try to teach her to milk and spin and sew like a normal girl, not nibble on seaweed and stare out forlornly at the weaves. I've been thinking about this book on and off for days. I think it's based on a folktale, but may not follow the same trajectory.
The sea-connection made me remember: check out
papersky's "A Candlemass Poem" currently up at Lone Star Stories. It's beautiful.
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Strains of ethereal music. A siren song.
[...]
Two beautiful MERMAIDS appear, red lips slightly parted, hair cascading around their pale shoulders, their breasts bobbing like sweet, succulent buoys...
MANATEE
What kind of stage directions are these?
...narrow waists curving down into the slippery, scaly darkness of their tails...
Dude!
----
Nine
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