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Moby Dick

August 10, 2010

Having just recently been released from detention in North Korea (long not very interesting story for another time) I’m a little behind on things and trying to catch up. Needless to say, my detention also prevented me from posting anything new the last couple of weeks, I apologize for any inconvenience or disappointment this may have caused our readers. I would also like to thank Fat Al for carrying the whole load, if you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him he is a generous and selfless man, and really not that fat at all.

In reading the last few weeks of posts I noticed, before Fat Al himself mentioned it, a rather morbid fascination with the gloomy realm of death and the departed. It is perhaps a stretch, but the first thing I thought of after my little observation was the opening paragraph of Moby Dick:

Call me Ishmael. 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 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. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

Ok, it’s a stretch. But I did think of it and I do love it.

6 Comments leave one →
  1. Fat Al permalink*
    August 10, 2010 8:17 am

    That’s some deep shit.

  2. August 10, 2010 11:05 am

    It’s no discussion of cheez-doodles

    • Fat Al permalink*
      August 10, 2010 11:29 am

      Well, that’s a very high standard to which to hold oneself.

  3. jco permalink
    August 10, 2010 11:44 am

    So are you headed out to the briny deep? Yearning for a Nantucket sleigh ride?

  4. August 10, 2010 12:18 pm

    Great opening to a great book. Right up there with, “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like ‘I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive….'”

    I want to hear about this detention in North Korea.


  1. Moby Dick « The Half Empty Glass

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