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Location: the waves, the ocean

Hoist the sails, raise yer bloody goblets, ahoy & onward me laddies!

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Wonder & a Fart Balloon

Lads I speak this morn of the obvious, of the laws of the pirate's life as inexorable as a spring squall or a northern gale at eventide or the clap. Aye, I speak of the roaming life of the pirate this morn, & of those many ties which loosely applied begin to falter under the wave's pressure. 'Tis hard tending dreams when yer warring at sea, me pen once wrote lads, & 'tis true, just as it be hard to be thar ashore when certain events transpire. Perhaps 'tis news to some, but me dear friend Crow's Pussy will be wed within the month, aye, but the lad has eschewed the life of the seas in favor of a landlocked life of the heart & hearth, & to him, eternally, I raise me goblet in cheers, aye. What then, dear cap'n, ye wonder, be the problem? That I be here, lads, & that 'tween his celebration & me own sits the horizon, endless, luring, as rare & impossible to set 'pon as Pizarro's fountain indeed. For the pirate lads the horizon always gapes its wide-toothed aureate grin at ye, aping & mocking & cursing yer course when all ye want is conviviality & a free shot of whiskey or two. Just when a cap'n readies himself to hang 'is mitre 'pon 'is hook, though, along from the leeward side of the ship comes some token of the sea's feeling justice. Aye, an albatross or a shiny yellow balloon emitting as acrimonious a stink as e'er a nose did suspire. There be such tokens all about us, aye, wee talismen of fortunes ahead. & so me brigate cuts her course, & the waves part & above them the clouds too in mirrored symmetry, & as sure as the gulls fade as the depths plumb lower, a pirate can be sure of the next bounty in spite of 'is shorewards regrets. We be but providers, aye, under the compass of providence, & bending outside of our hearts we find ourselves bound to the sea. On the one hand, aye, 'tis rough to be reft asunder as such. On the other hook, though, there be great pleasure & pride in a pirate's wayward course. Perhaps one day ye'll find me mitre hung, but methinks rather I'd see it afloat above me as me sinks after a battle lost. 'Tisn't for all, this life, nay, but for a captain such as Dagger himself, it be the only life. & now, lads & lassies alike, raise yer goblets fer Crow's Pussy & his pending merriment!

2 Comments:

Anonymous the bo'son said...

Aye, me gastronomic experiment what with that weather balloon has run awry, mate, and I'd thank ye for sending all such balloons as you're wont to encounter 'pon your voyages back to me stink lab when a chance you might get, if ye know what's good for ye. . .

10:52 AM  
Anonymous Beardbeard said...

Aye, as so thougtf'lly enc'raged, i do raise my goblet to crow's pussy, and enc'rage him to enjoy his newfound, dry stasis, leaving the sea to those of us of fiercer count'nance. Aye, 't does bring a single tear to me eye, eerily super'mposed over me tatooed one, and i see that me parrot has reached up her beak to lovingly remove the salty brine from me cheek. Nothing fights loneliness like a parrot's warm kiss, me lads, nothing.

11:56 AM  

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