Debut Albums and Deep Green Kelp
And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.
Wallace Stevens
I am secretly a mermaid, a mythical goddess of the sea, singing my alluring song. The ocean flows through my veins and nature is my mother. I am one with the water, the currents, and the tides. I breathe in the saltiness of the sea and the crispness of the air. I dive and twirl, gazing up at the surface and see beams of sunlight penetrating the speckled density, shining sparkling rays down into the abyss. The deep green kelp sways with the rhythm of the tides, dancing back and forth. The water is cool, enlivening. When I dive deeper, through spiraling threads of light, I enter a bright kind of darkness. Here there is a silence that consumes me. Although it is silent, I hear something. But what I hear is not a true sound. It is a calling from within. The blinding walls of concrete, the chaos of responsibility, the tainted air, the traffic of everyday life -- sirens, horns, carbon dioxide, famine, cancer, crime, scandal, lies, even everyday boredom or anxiety or frustration. Down here, none of that exists. I glide through the depths. Cool water slides like silk across my tail. Freedom. I am happiest here. Entering my kingdom, I open doors to the other world: a new way of thinking, a new way of life. Underwater, I escape gravity through the miracle of buoyancy, which undoes the constraints of mass and pull and allows me to let go. In the water, everything dissolves except for the particles of, what are they? Remnants of song? Memories? But this is not forever. I live in two worlds, not one. I must return to land; it is half of who I am. I must emerge and shake the water off my tail, for I am not a fish, I am a
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.
Wallace Stevens
I am secretly a mermaid, a mythical goddess of the sea, singing my alluring song. The ocean flows through my veins and nature is my mother. I am one with the water, the currents, and the tides. I breathe in the saltiness of the sea and the crispness of the air. I dive and twirl, gazing up at the surface and see beams of sunlight penetrating the speckled density, shining sparkling rays down into the abyss. The deep green kelp sways with the rhythm of the tides, dancing back and forth. The water is cool, enlivening. When I dive deeper, through spiraling threads of light, I enter a bright kind of darkness. Here there is a silence that consumes me. Although it is silent, I hear something. But what I hear is not a true sound. It is a calling from within. The blinding walls of concrete, the chaos of responsibility, the tainted air, the traffic of everyday life -- sirens, horns, carbon dioxide, famine, cancer, crime, scandal, lies, even everyday boredom or anxiety or frustration. Down here, none of that exists. I glide through the depths. Cool water slides like silk across my tail. Freedom. I am happiest here. Entering my kingdom, I open doors to the other world: a new way of thinking, a new way of life. Underwater, I escape gravity through the miracle of buoyancy, which undoes the constraints of mass and pull and allows me to let go. In the water, everything dissolves except for the particles of, what are they? Remnants of song? Memories? But this is not forever. I live in two worlds, not one. I must return to land; it is half of who I am. I must emerge and shake the water off my tail, for I am not a fish, I am a