New Obsession Rears Ugly Head

Just what I need- yet -just what I want:

a small gallery of dimestore fantasy novels

The Principle is something I find romantic....the artists: long lost or badly credited on the cheap books which were produced at some dusty publishing house in the midwest circa 1975. Some artists possibly succumbed to obscurity and some probably live in Ben Lomond! (hahaha) These are the books that populated the houses I grew up in: dark forest households with long-haired moms reeking of pot-smoke and growing potato plants in jelly jars on the kitchen windowsill. Small boys playing Dungeons and Dragons in striped rugby shirts and spiderman BVDs, the dads barbequing and getting drunk (Foster's tallboys and Michelob) outside on the redwood deck, dogs chewing on spit-soaked raquetballs and biting. Me in a corner, terrified of attracting attention, reading "the Singing Stones" (god how I wish I could find that book) and wishing I was a Princess on a misty Irish moor-secret passageway to the Land of Magic peircing the fog in front of me.
The Unicorn Girls are made, not born.