Lost

                                    

I am lost. This news should come as no surprise to my detractors. For legal reasons I cannot name them, but I can provide this link and this other link. Long blog short, I fell asleep and drifted way off course. The actual time I was asleep was somewhere between 8 and 80 hours. There are no clocks or humidifiers on my vessel for personal reasons.

I am safe. My boat is hidden behind a mound of recyclable material in the muddy corner of a moderately  sized harbor. Did you know fluorescent light bulb tubes can be recycled? They make long, narrow contact lenses out of them.

I am walking. The landscape is green, slightly mountainous, and there is an urgent need for GPS technology or something else to tell me where I am. An off-kilter caravan slumps in the distance. Approaching slowly, I whistle the tune melody of "Brooklyn By The Sea" to warn anyone inside that I am nearing closer. I regret leaving my bow and arrow on the boat. For some unknown reason, I did bring my quiver.

I am welcome. A musty monk sits inside. He is dressed in mud-crusted corduroy and offers me some freshly chewed carrots. We chat in our own languages and facial expressions. He stomps his foot wildly when I say the word "Lost" and a piece of the caravan floor crumbles to the grass below. Jumping up from his bean bag, he rummages in his rummaging sack and tosses several items at me. Costume jewelry, excelsior, air pods, a softball with a question mark on it. He lets out an elongated "Wezzzoopia" and forcibly places a tattered dvd case in my lap. It's Season 3 of the ABC confusion-tainment hit series "Lost". I pretend to eat it, then wear it as a hat. He nibbles on a carrot and cries.

I am not lost. I am exactly where I should be. At least that's what I think he was trying to tell me. It's time for me to go. I bow slowly while waving goodbye. He rubs his chin on a piece of cardboard and takes one of my shoes. Back to the boat, a quick siphoning of fuel from a pleasure craft named "Coś podejrzanego" ("Somethin' Fishy" ha, ha...) out of Gdańsk, and I am on my way. I also stole a clock from the weird hermit man. Sometimes personal reasons for doing certain things need revising, updating, or deleting.

- Don

P.S. Still listening to Spotify. Who is paying for it? Listen to what I'm listening to here.

Eating

In my haste to leave, I forgot to prepare for a few aspects of long term ocean travel. I won't go into some of the more embarrassing ones (toilet paper), but the main one and the one I'm thinking about right now is food. Contrary to popular rumor, I am not a seafood guy. I'll tolerate an occasional coconut shrimp on special occasion. And it needs to be heavy on the coconut. I'm talking plenty of exocarp, mesocarp, and coir dust. Here is a handy chart called "The Anatomy of a Coconut" if you need to acquaint yourself with the specific components of a coconut. Most people just know about the outside hair and inside water. Such a shame.

I love little quiches. I also like your basic, garden-variety American breakfast foods. Cereals, both healthy and sweet, are a staple. Yogurt is acceptable. French toast, pancakes, waffles, and eggs prepared any style are what fuel me. Mentally, spiritually, and nutritionally. I hope to find a supply ship where I can stock up on batter and syrup soon, but eggs might prove to be much more difficult. Chickens cannot cross oceans. They faint at the sight of an endless blue surface that stretches all the way to the horizon. Have you heard of chicken hypnotism? If you draw a straight line in the sand in front of a chicken, they freeze when they look at it. Being on a boat has the same effect. I'll figure out some way of bartering for eggs with passing freighters and cruise boats. I really wish I'd had the forethought to keep all my magic tricks and bring them with me. That would be a surefire way to score some eggs. As for quail eggs or the ones from sea turtles and other creatures, I prefer to let them lie undisturbed in their nests and develop into living beings. Cracking them in a pan, adding Old Bay, and whipping them up into a delicious eggy froth is tempting - but easily avoidable if you have a conscious. Unless you're stranded somewhere. Then, it's "anything goes" time. Survive how you need to and don't tell anyone what you had to do. That's also how most religions work.  

Speaking of sea turtles, 9 people died and 78 were sickened on Pemba Island after eating sea turtle meat. Read about it here. The nautical world is abuzz with the news and it has sent shivers down the masts of every sailor/sailorette who has ever entertained the notion of eating a sea turtle. My advice - don't do it. It's too risky. Licking their shell or eyes for moisture is okay. Even sucking the flavor of their flippers is acceptable. Do not eat sea turtle meat. Thank you.

The photo above is my feast aboard a neighboring vessel. They invited me aboard when they noticed me frantically waving my arms and hands at them. I also shot off all my emergency flares. The food was all shades of yellow and light brown. I ate plenty, but I was not allowed to take any food. I politely asked, but was refused. They have a long journey ahead and their stance was understandable. However, I am one to leave a memorable impression when met with any degree of resistance when it comes to borrowing food. I excused myself to the men's room, took a hefty "upper decker", washed my hands, moisturized them, and left their company. I shall not be dining with them again!

- Don

P.S. Still hooked up to "Spotify". Here is what I'm listening to. Thanks for the recommendations.

Leaving

Here is the place, or somewhat close to the actual place, where I decided to leave where I have been for a long time. Mentally and location-wise. I am returning to the United States of America. There are many reasons, but the main one is a deep sense of regret. Deeper than the TauTona Mine. The second reason behind the main one is to oversee the completion of a new collection of recorded songs. Completing any project poses a slew of unforeseen obstacles. I need to reacquaint myself with recording technology, flash drives, different kinds of deodorant/body smells, cables, microphones, and burnt offerings.

That's the good news. The bad news is that my journey will be long. I spent the last 5 weeks shredding all of my important tax paperwork and reducing the weight of my belongings. Good Lord, I had a lot of ketchup packets. And soy sauce ones. Too many. I buried my journals and movie reviews in a safe, dry place. I gave away lots of trinkets and crap that I bought in a drunken blur over the last decade. I feel lighter. I also feel a lighter. There's a blue lighter in my back pocket that I'm keeping. I know it will come in handy very soon (foreshadowing).

Here are all my possessions. Not the beds, pillows, and curtains. Although very nice and fitting with my personal style, those legally belong to the hotel. Ethically, they are mine.

Traded some of my more tasteful clothing items and jewelry to a mentally ill, nude Australian man for a boat. It's a suitable ship that I haven't thought of a name for. I have run out of boat names. Over the course of my lifetime, I've named 100s of boats. I'm an expert at it. Most of those don't exist anymore and nobody really ever thinks about them so, essentially, they are all meaningless now. I'll come up with a name when I absolutely need to. Until then, I will refer to it in my thoughts as _________.

Here is a newly, unfamiliar view that I will no doubt get tired of at some point in the future.

I'm prepping spiritually for the long trip ahead. This will be a months long journey. I have plotted my course, but it's in pencil. I can change direction anytime. One thing is for certain. I'm coming home.

- Don

P.S. The boat is somehow hooked up to "Spotify". Here is what I'm listening to. Any recommendations?