Except for a few minutes of bedtime reading of actual physical books each night, my mid-May weekend was spent online.
On Saturday the 17th I did my usual morning puzzles and stuff and then went Net surfing.
I explored TSLR (The Shanghai Literary Review) Online which publishes poetry, fiction, nonfiction, translation, reviews, criticism, art, and interviews.
Another lit magazine I spent some time with is Hazlitt which includes "journalism, fiction, columns, interviews, comics and more...."
A random Gutenberg search turned up some fun picture books and some oddities.
After a token amount of housework the exploring continued on Sunday....
Emma Sloley's web site led me to another lit magazine - Craft - which includes fiction, creative nonfiction, essays and interviews. "All published creative pieces include an author’s note and an editorial introduction that both discuss stylistics in the work." Also JMWW a weekly journal of fiction, poetry, flash, essays, and interviews.
A visit to one of my favorite sites The Good Life France revealed that I was a tad late for a special saint's day. Saint Honoré | A French cake & Patron Saint of bakers an essay by Ally Mitchell reminded me that it was Friday, May 16. As always, TGLF has gorgeous food pictures. Cake!
Not to worry as my housemate did go bakery shopping that day and came home with muffins, scones, and croissants. But I don't have pictures because...there were snacks and breakfasts between then and my discovery of the article.
Punky Dunk and the Mouse
Punky Dunk and the Gold Fish
How Freckle Frog Made Herself Pretty (Volland 1913) Illustrated by Beem
And looking down upon it from her cavern bower high above the beach, watched the Princess Wildenai. Kneeling there, the light of dawn shining on her long black hair, she was, herself, the sweetest blossom of the spring. Loveliest was she among all the maidens of the Mariposa and of royal blood besides; although of this the great chief Torquam, who even at that moment lay sleeping in his lodge of deerskin on the crescent beach below, knew more than he had ever told.
With eyes rapt, her breath scarcely stirring the folds of softest fawnskin drawn across her breast, the princess bent her gaze to where the waves ran silver on the ocean's distant rim. There she knew the sun must rise and, as the first dazzling ray sparkled across the water, she rose slowly until she stood erect, a slender, graceful figure against the dim, gray rocks, and stretching her arms toward the East, spoke in the musical words of her people. "
Dolly and Molly and the Farmer Man by Elizabeth Gordon (Rand McNally, 1914)
And now for something a little more serious...
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