Tag Archives: mermaid


As I sit here drinking rum

at ten-thirty in the morning,

I begin to wonder if maybe

I might be a pirate by the time the bottle’s gone.

Wouldn’t that be ideal?

There certainly seems to be

a goodly number of drunk men

thinking they are Superman….

I can see the commercial for it now.

No need for higher learning!

Drink what you want to be!

Like, if you long to be a cowboy,

break out the Jim and Jack!

You’ll be whoring and meeting your enemy

at high noon in no time!

You aspire to be a great writer, you say?

Well, what kind of writer do you wish to be?

Do you wish to write brilliant

yet depressingly dull fiction?

Hemingway preferred absinthe.

Mind the green fairy, though.

She may put a shotgun in your hand

and bid you blow your brains out.

You have a journalistic edge?

Wild turkey was Hunter’s poison.

(I do wonder if maybe you might

just turn into a turkey if you drink that though.)

Wouldn’t it be grand?

If instead of just being called an alcoholic,

you could be called Marilyn Monroe?

What if you constantly drink vodka?

Will you turn into a Russian anarchist?

I’m not sure all Russians endorse anarchy,

but there sure seems to be

a hella lotta movies portraying them that way.

The question really is….

if you drink sea water,

are you actually a mermaid?


Filed under Beauty, Entertainment, Humor, Life, Poetry, Uncategorized

I Am Now a Mermaid

Thanks to Pouring My Art Out.

Awesomesauce. XOXO

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Filed under Beauty, fiction, Humor, Life, Uncategorized



Trinyx stayed just under the surface of the waves, watching the beautiful creature with the bouncing hair react to the lecherous older one. She worried when she saw the angry expression cross the young human’s face, wondering what had angered him so, as she watched him shove the other man out of the way. Trinyx felt as though her very self was being pulled toward the handsome boy as he stomped angrily away from the ship’s rail, until she noticed a splash in the waves next to her. She moved away in disgust when she realized what it was- one of the other less-attractive humans was leaning over the side of the ship, retching into the sea. She was filled with fury that he was polluting her ocean in such a way, and wanted to jump up and  grab the man, pull him into the water, and swim down to the deepest depths with him where she knew he would perish. Instead, she swam close to the body of the ship, and indignantly banged her tail against the wood several times.

As she swam away toward her home, she looked back, and saw several of the men looking confused and leaning over the ship’s rail, peering into the water, wondering what sort of fish had rammed their boat. Trinyx glimpsed the dark-haired man too, who seemed to be looking directly at her, though she knew it was too dark for him to see that far. She lifted her pale hand in a useless gesture, and thought she imagined the man raise his own hand in return. The waves moved    her, and she pushed her tail against them , diving into the night-black water.

Far below the moonlit surface of the ocean, Trinyx slowed her movements, realizing how close she had been to a human. She thought of how soft his hair had been between her fingers, and how it had sprung so lightly from them. She weaved her fingers between the ropey lengths of her own hair that was billowing out around her, and let it go, watching it lazily drift in the leftover currents of her swimming. A few small fishes glides through it, and she swatted them away, perturbed.

She felt melancholy now, now that she had felt the air on her thick skin. She had never felt the pressure of the water surrounding her, but she felt it now, and she wanted to be back against the ship, looking into the expressive eyes of the alluring young man again. She thought of him and wondered if his skin would feel like hers, and she ran her hands down her torso, over her breasts and down her belly, until she felt scales that led into a lengthy tail. She looked at her tail, the tail that was the envy of her sisters, with it’s rainbow of purple and green and silvery scales, and decided it was not at all beautiful. Her fingertips felt over the coarse scales, and she wanted to feel what it was like to stand on two legs like the humans on the ship had.

The man’s eyes had been one color, and though she had never seen her own, she knew from looking into her sisters’ faces that mermaid eyes were an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors, and she thought to herself how uninteresting that was- as she had watched the man, she could see within his eyes a flurry of emotions, whereas when she watched her sisters, the constant color shift in their eyes made it completely impossible to know what they were thinking.

She had let the man’s sounds wash over her; how different they had been from her own! From the things her grandmother had told her, human voices were terrible to listen to, and humans themselves were seemingly possessed when offered a mermaid song, but Trinyx had liked the sound of his words- they were not melodious as a mermaid’s, no, but still pleasing to the ear in their own way.

She fingered the silver chain that was tied in her hair, and pushed the little button that had released the tiny door. She cried out when she saw that the picture inside was beginning to disintegrate already, and she shut it again quickly, hoping to preserve the likeness of the woman who looked like her human. She gripped the locket tightly to her chest, and was amazed that she cared so for this man, this creature who was so unlike her. She swam in circles, wondering what she was to do now.  Bubbles and fish floated out of her way as she did so. She was forbidden to have contact with the upper world, but there was one thing she knew for certain- she had to see him again.


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Filed under Beauty, Books, fiction, Life, Love, short story, Uncategorized

There is No Director Yelling “Cut!” in Life

As I become older, I am beginning to realize that life is not like a movie. While a good part of my childhood was spent engrossed in the imaginative worlds of C.S. Lewis and Dr. Seuss, I also spent a great deal of time imagining myself as a Mermaid longing to be human, a peasant girl posing as a foreign princess (Princess Cariboo, anyone?), and a war hero digging a tunnel out of a concentration camp. (Yes, you mayn’t believe it, but The Great Escape was one of my absolute favorite movies as a child. I also find it to be one of Steve McQueen’s finest works.)

It’s been said that film is a way for people to escape from their hum-drum ordinary lives. This may also be said of Facebook. You can’t tell me all those people posting pictures every second and letting all their “Friends” know exactly where they are all the time never have a sad day. What I’d like to see is some pictures of some people crying because their Grandma died, or their spouse cheated on them, or their dog got eaten by a zombified elephant. Then at least I could look at their status update and think, “Wow, they are so honest.” or at least, “Geez, they’re an ugly crier, too.”

Anyhoo, this is totally a rambling post that hardly makes sense at all.

Despite the many grueling and searching independent films that have been made, it seems that the most popular are the ever-the-same Rom Coms with the couple who hate each other, then realize their  love for one another, only to quarrel and break up, and then come to the conclusion that they really are meant for each other. The only films where everybody dies in the end are the over-exposed big budget pics like Titanic and Pearl Harbor.

As much as I’d like to live in a Hollywood haze, the real truth is that sometimes people fall out of love and DON’T get back together, sometimes there are no life lessons to be taught from an untimely death, and sometimes men fall in love with beautiful women to whom they are not married. Sometimes barren people can’t adopt babies; drug addicts don’t get over their addictions, and alcoholics die because they slipped and cracked their head open on the pavement. It really doesn’t matter how big Kim Kardashian’s ass is, because as she gets older, it’s only going to get bigger. Taylor Swift still won’t be able to sing when she’s Dolly Parton’s age, and one day maybe Angelina will run out of kids to adopt. Because I have a Sparkly mind, I will continue to go through life make believing I’m just as beautiful and mysterious as Marilyn Monroe, and that what I write will someday matter to someone, even though in the back of my mind, I know no one really gives a shit. But if I’m lucky, somebody someday will say, “I wished you knew her, ’cause she was awesomesauce.” Even if I never really was a mermaid.

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