<clappy goes down to the wine cellar to
check on the NNBM elf only to find a fresh
tunnel dug behind one of the wine casks,
and three items tacked on the side of the
wooden barrel. (1) - a handwritten note,
(2) - a page from a novel
and (3) - altair's panties>
note to scooter-
fantastical news of hope and opportunity for
the car(e) to help project! all is well. <pun>
give yen a soft peck on the forehead from
me to take to her father.
i had hoped i could last until march 10
to "go sailing" -- my metaphor for leaving
my network of human friends to harmonically
align with the natural elements of earth,
wind, sun, and water. i do it every week
in the spring, summer and fall, and usually
i travel to mexico at least once in winter
for the same purpose.
this year finds me extending the winter break
until march (when i go to pensacola to sail
south for two weeks). meanwhile, i find myself
out of balance with nature and consequently,
out of balance with humanity as well. i feel
a strong need to change focus from communicating
with the human element of life to communicating
with the non-human elements (though the two
are never really separate entities).
sooo...
i untie the lines from the dock for awhile and
off i go...
<gone saylin'>
-capitan polvo del mar
"Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having
little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to
interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little
and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of
driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation.
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul;
whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin
warehouses and bringing up the rear of every funeral I
meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper
hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to
prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and
methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account
it high time to get to the sea as soon as I can. This is my
substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical
flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take
to the ship.
- H. Melville (Moby Dick, 1851)
Altair19's Panties
(cleaned and ironed, of course, no starch)
<edit> palindromic grub! |
