Koyaanisqatsi thoughts on life

It was another terrific weekend in the city, and oh the sights to see. Friday we saw babies on the floor. Saturday was the goofiest parade in the whole country at the Chicago Irish Parade, and Sunday I played some Fable and finally got to go see Watchmen (on Imax). All together, a nice package. Now to Watchmen. I thought it was fantastic, and of course the most fantastic character is Doctor Manhattan. I was pleasantly surprised when he tells his back story before heading off to Mars. The accompanying music was selected from Philip Glass’s Koyaanisqatsi soundtrack to reflect his angst.

The “Qatsi” trilogy, the first of which is Koyaanisqatsi, is a trio of experimental films focused on reflecting the chaotic nature of human existence on Earth. Philip Glass had always sworn he would never do a soundtrack, that is until he saw footage of the Koyaanisqatsi film. His music is as incredible as the footage. Absolutely haunting, and I love that it was included in a current part of our pop culture. Its totally with it, as it were, and I’ve been rewatching these films (before I knew what Watchmen had in store). Late one night, as I started drifting off to sleep, I decided to experiment myself, recording thoughts from what I was watching as they drifted to me over the wall of sleep, a bit like random association. I don't recall what most of them mean, but they were there, at one point, so, here they are now, Koyaanisqatsi thoughts on life:

Naked swimming is really the best way of swimming

Did the elephant temple with flags sell any tickets at all?

Was that the IRS agent? I’ll have to consult my sales

Forests of buildings with all different species and purposes

Egg drop soup map from hell

Charlie and I are going to board the prostitute train today

There has got to be tons of fleas and bugs in all that hay (and hair)

Little girl cleaning the guerilla sign question

All of our fields become oceans

This lady’s ride is late, shes going to have to walk

Kids laugh when they do bad, but jump when threatened

I have bingo all night long

The dance is the sauce but you’re going to have to roll up your pants so they don’t defling

When the dancers align their hats, do chess tournaments commence?

Where are the rockets shooting?

Mass Consciousness

Sideways cities make great Pachinko machines

Boy pointing at me behind the suicide jumper holding the pan of eggs

He should just beat that ghost in the log to trap her

Why are women always shaking their hair at me?

I wish that computers were powered by marble roller coasters

How much did the yellow visors cost and why isn’t everyone wearing them?

Can we keep going to Tyler’s?

Man: “I am going to faint”

Only devils blow smoke out of their nose

That little one there is going to grow up to be a tough woman to deal with

Isn’t that cool, I lost lost lost mine?

Backpacks are great tools used in many different capacities

Does man want to kill his children because he has to work for them?

And I think to myself, I could only go on under the guise that you thought/meant nothing of/to me.

Hear some of the music here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VysrUsrhKbQ&feature=related

From the Sea of Dreams

It’s still raining in Chicago. I have to say that it feels necessary, like a cleansing shower. I was looking forward to a change in weather, and I feel like I came for just the right taste of winter to spring time. The changing seasons are an essential part of the world, and I feel for the human species as well, both physically and spiritually. We are forced to change as the Earth does, and you can see it changes people too. Their attitudes, demeanor, and clothes. I missed hearing rain in the trees aboard the ship. The forest rain. There’s really nothing quite like it. Being able to live there feels right. In the forest. I think that one day I would like to settle down in a forest home.

It’s nice to be here. Home. Aunt Marcia once told me she thought I was running away from life, and I suppose I do feel that way sometimes. There is a lot of life for someone in Chicago, especially if you’ve grown up here. But also, maybe it’s trying to get away from the things I can’t have, the unlived lives in my veins, or maybe it’s sometimes just wanting to be a stranger to the strange land. To go somewhere where nothing knows nothing about what could possibly be. Nowhere, as it were. That’s also part of the adventure.

City adventures, though, are still rather exciting for me. Having so many people scattered across the city is like one of those games we play. I have my city map (recorded in my memory), safe spots with friends, and a slough of possible quests. You never know which of your favored old companions come into play, or which new ones you’ll meet. Sometimes…if you’re lucky…you get to meet…a babe! The only problem, one weekend isn’t enough to hit every spot on the map. Sometimes the choice isn’t for you to make, and often, you’re going to fall into unexpected predicaments. Just do your best. Use your items. And always begin a boss fight with plenty of health drinks.

Today, driving home from the city through the rain, I thought what it would be like to be remembered as “the ocean.” Infinitely mysterious, beautiful, and unforgiving. I’m not sure if that would be all positive, but it would be a powerful way to be looked upon. The way of the ocean. What an idea to entertain? I’m not sure if I would want that. I do love the sea, and it has been calling to me in my dreams, but that eternity, that blue void, is deadly. You and I would do best to remember that. Still, it’s captured in my mind, and heart, and I know I will always have solace there. And like ABBA says:

“Nothing can capture the heart like a memory can.”

I started doing lots of Tae Bo on the ship, and I miss it more than ever. Every Monday and Thursday. It was better than anything to have some motivation to exercise. Classes were hard, Leveau made sure of that, but they were a challenge I enjoyed facing. I even got my boss Bethany to come a few times. She was very fit, that Bethany, and it came to us being able to chat about exercise in the art gallery, which felt oddly natural, or course. What else do you discuss in art galleries? Oh you know, exercise, that kind of thing. Well, all sorts of good stuff really. Anyways, Tae Bo was in the spa after guest hours, and afterwards, Bethany and I would sneak into the rainforest room. To me, the rainforest room reminded me the most of life on a spaceship, which is terrific. Its totally closed off from the outside, has a misty fountain in the middle with relaxing LED lights, and various steam rooms surrounding it. Artificial futures. We always went for the intense, aromatherapy steam room. It’s the hottest I’ve ever been in my whole life. You can watch the sweat pour out of you. But it feels the best after a hard workout. Of course we got caught by one of the head security officers. We really should not have been in there, and it was kind of scary… but in that exciting way. That will be a memory to hold on to. Tae Bo with Leveau, followed by the rainforest room, and getting caught with Bethany. An odd world it is.

The Day after I learned how to race yachts in St. Martin, I scheduled an eco-hike excursion on St. John from St. Thomas. I loved reading about all the different excursions available and picking what I thought would be the most rewarding. The hike would take me through the forest and eventually to a secluded beach called Honeymoon Bay. The ferry boat left very early and the hike would take about 4 hours. Well, I’m not going to lie, but ferry ride was the best part. I just love boat rides that much, but the hike wasn’t bad. St John is mostly national park, so it’s less busy than the other islands. It had a great feel to it, as each island has a unique personality to it. Definitely stillness the others lack. When we arrived, we were greeted by Genie (“like Genie in a bottle”)….a crazy woman. Not only does she guide eco-hikes, but also a pirate castle back on St Thomas. You need only admire this picture of her:

She showed us lots of cacti, and so it was to no one’s surprise when a large woman backed into one. I was there, and so I said that the needles should be pulled out. So she stuck her arm towards me, and I proceeded to clean her of cactus needles while her husband and daughter watched. I felt a bit awkward…helpful…but slightly sensual. Very bizarre. So we do this hike, there’s a hermit crab, a tourist tree with peeling red bark, and then we get to this isolated beach on the side of the island. Honeymoon Bay. Only way to get there is by hiking or boating, and who is the one man sunbathing on this beach? Leveau. The huge Croatian who runs Tae Bo. “Ok, do splits now!” He can literally do the splits so that his legs come above his waste. It’s horrifying. When I asked how he got there, he said, “you know, I make my own way.” Of course Leveau, of course.

The most interesting part of the trip came on our way back. There was a family from Minnesota on the hike with me, and I got to talking with them, told them I had a house in Northern Wisconsin, in Spooner.
They too had a house up there, but just outside of Spooner.
No kidding, where?
Oh, do I know A and H corner (A and H are highways)?
Of course, that’s where A and H outpost is, where I buy my motor boat gas.
Well, they’re on a lake called Middle McKenzie.
Of course that’s where their house is, and of course that’s my lake as well.
Strange, small world.
Turns out, they know exactly which house is ours, and they even flipped a sailboat in front of it while some older woman laid out in the sun, watching. That would be my Grandma or mother. How funny that we’d be meeting here, in the Caribbean, and out of all those ten thousands of lakes up there. What are the chances?

On the way back I snapped this great lady, with St. John in the background. It makes me happy because she looks so content with the world:

Yesterday Was The Day Before

Being off the ship is like finding you’ve been in a social coma, and I’m now just waking up from the dream, suddenly. Monica likes to talk about the things I’ve missed while I’ve been gone, as if I had been comatose in a hospital somewhere. Oh you missed Octa-mom, and Rhinanna got abused, and the other things. It’s all very silly, but still laced with a bit of angst. What other fun tidbits did I miss that people forgot to tell me about? One might argue that if it was important enough, it would be remembered and retold, but we all know there’s nothing quite like living in the moment. There are important things I have missed to be sure. But all the same, I feel like I never left Chicago at all, and everything that happened to me at sea was from my imagination. From A Sea of Dreams.

I’m happy to have the chance to be home and see old faces. Old friends and family. The People I love, and the ones I thought. It’s like looking at everything through the passing sand of an hourglass. Removed, looking back at your life, now changed, as if through a glass darkly. Oh, things have changed. What did I think? What do I think? These are the same. These are so different. You….what about you? I try to make proper assessments of my last days at sea, but with the lingering notion that from here, this different life and world, it will only come from across the plane, from the time we’ve spent in a dream.

I’ve been negligent in my writing. Very Negligent. Like leaving your child and dog in the car outside of the Jewel in the middle of a heat wave negligent. But I’m here now, baby, its ok. I’ll turn the air back on… now. I tell myself its because I’ve been reading more, and exercising (Tae Bo with Leveau). Reading a lot more is definitely a good way to spend some free time, but that’s no excuse for not writing. We all should be reading more. But we all should be writing more as well, I suppose. I just love becoming obsessed with books sometimes, where every free moment goes back to the pages. You make that connection so it’s not just a task of completion anymore, but a very cerebral experience. The first book to do this to me was Duma Key by Stephen King. He is my absolute favorite writer, and I think his writing is just fantastic. Sometimes I like to think that we are very similar people, and if we were ever to meet for drinks, we’d end up being great friends. And then other times his books talk to me in that way, almost hauntingly specific. Especially when he talks about a man, a lost soul, with a lake house in the Northwoods who moves to an island in Florida to fall in love with the sea. Sometimes I understand what that might be like. The second book was Sharp Objects. Its about vomiting everywhere. Every couple of minutes of free time was spent following these stories, and I do not regret that time at all.

However, in the end, there’s no proper goodbyes on a ship, and I think that can be helpful. It happens too quick, and some have no idea you’ve left until they wonder where you’ve been some days later. This happened quite often to me. You think of someone you’re friends with, ask where so and so is, and then its: “Oh, he’s been gone two weeks now, didn’t you know?” No, I suppose I hadn’t. It’s a transient life to begin with, so it just might be easier to cut things off clean. It was a shock to the system, but damn if it wasn’t exhilarating. I’m going home now…I get to go home…going home. Did you know that the technical term for an extra digit (finger or toe) is polydactalysm.?

On the ship I used to listen to everyone, guests and crew and what they were saying in short snips of conversation. Most of the time it was fascinating, just jumping in and out of conversations. Once I caught a man talking and I heard him state that yesterday was the day before. I thought that was beautiful.

Things had fallen into a very forward routine for me on this last month. Every week is different, but it comes and goes. Western, Eastern, Western, Alt-Eastern, Western…etc. The Alternate is St. Croix, which became my favorite port by far. To keep things different, new and exciting, I’d taken up testing out the guest excursions. Michael called me an excursion whore, but I wouldn’t go that far, and besides, he’s just not an adventurer. He’d joke by saying I’d have to call off work because I was too busy planning my excursions for the week. I NEVER call off work; it would make me too nervous. The excursions are all pretty fun, but at the same time their packaged, processed adventures. I’ve done lots of different things; kayaking, zip lining, cave snorkeling, jeep adventuring, hiking, beaching, but theres no spontaneity, no surprises, no exceptions. They never quite live up to a good, solid off the fly, improvised adventure which I enjoy the most. There is one excursion, though, that’s topped the charts, and I do recommend going out with a pre-planned package. That adventure is sailing. I’ve been learning on two different types of sailboats, the little Hobie-Kats (miniature catamarans) I can rent in the lagoon at Castaway Cay, and the full blown regatta racing yacht, which is of course the most exciting. You’re supposed to have two years experience for the kats, but I just lied to those Goofballs. Sometimes you need only to break some rules to have more fun.

Now, from afar, I had always been fascinated with sailboats. In fact, they’ve always been my favorite type of boat despite never actually having ridden on one. I’ve had lots of boating experience growing up; row, motor, speed, and even paddle, but I’d never gotten on a sail. It was worth the wait. They are indeed my favorite way to enjoy the water. I wrote the following passage on a drunken night after a great sailing day. Now, it doesn’t make complete sense, but in that special way, I enjoy it:

Sailboats are beautiful symbols of the ocean, seemingly tranquil slices of wind, beacons on the horizon. But in reality they are instruments which dare to harness the elements to our own amusements. They’re tools for tricksters looking to play temptation’s fate with the spirits of the wind and the spirits of the water. Daring to break the threshold of danger into a realm of pure splendour on the sea. It’s a good trade to master in my book.

My Bahamian Seaman’s Book as it were.

That day on the regatta was something special. It was an all crew excursion, reserved specifically for the long term residents on the Disney Magic, which is a nice group of people for the most part. Now, the America’s Cup yacht race sees some of the finest and fastest sail boats in the world. Only thing is, every year you have to have new ships built. So, the old ones are retired to various places around the world, but especially in the Caribbean. On St. Maarten, we rented two of them to race against each other. It was totally fucking awesome. Its hard work though. I was a primary spinner, which is the toughest job (I asked for the toughest job specifically…if I didn’t, you’re a pussy!) Anyways, you have to constantly crank the sails every time the boat changes direction, or TAKs. “Get ready for tak!” they cry…I’m ready, you bastard…I’m ready. You see, sail boats don’t just go in a straight line, they zig zag to catch the wind in a way that takes them generally in the desired direction. Anyways, Joanie, the nurse, was one of the other three primary spinners, and she was commenting on how much my veins were bulging on my biceps. If she needed to draw blood from me, it would be nooooo problem. It was a great workout, but more than anything else, its the sounds, sights, and feel of the thing. You aren’t really going “fast,” but you can feel the pull of the wind behind you, and rolling the boat to the side, trying to dump you out. Its exilirating and a rush, and they insist that you drink lots of beer during the whole thing. The sound of the wind in the sail is an incredible howl and flap. September commented that there’s no wonder old sailors came up with myths about spirits calling from the sea with ghostly songs. “Have you ever heard the myth of the Sirens?” she asks me. Oh, dear September, I think I might have heard the tale.

Anyways, sailing is wet, dangerous, and difficult. This is something I know I will only grow to appreciate further. One of my serious goals in life is to own a sailboat, to be its captain as it were, and for me, this was a major step in that direction. For this race, my boat was the Canadian one, racing the American regatta, and of course we lost, but its fine. It’s about the experience, and everyone knows Canada comes second to the US anyways. After the yachting I took a beach excursion to Orient Bay. It was much less exciting, but a good ticket to go see the other side of the island. Because the beach was known for its nude sun bathers, I wore my European swimsuit. What a disappointment that was. It was crowded full of disgustingness. Lots of unsexyness crowded by the ocean. Obesity on the sea. It was a beautiful beach full of multiple reasons why I avoid the popular tourist spots. Luckily I met some friends; Minnie Mouse, Cinderella, and Chip. We had a fun little time hanging out together, before they had to leave. I walked back along the thousands of beach chairs to where the Disney bus would pick us up, and had a swim with Jaco, one of the excursion crew. We had a good men’s time together on the beach, getting pummeled by the rough sea, sipping some rum punch, and generally being men, before heading back to the ship. On the way home a woman expressed disappointment with the underdeveloped nature of the island when she saw wild goats living on the hillside next to the road.

The Derelict Faire

The most important thing to remember about St Croix is that more than any other island I've been, it’s a different world. Many guests complained about the island. “there wasn’t enough to do.” “Not enough shops.” These are all the "common type" thoughts. They are what separate the few and the masses. St. Croix is unique. It has a palpable feeling, a culture different from any other place, and for that I love it to pieces…to death…to eternity.

It’s the largest of the U.S. Virgin Islands, and so it goes, there are more stories to tell in its hidden corners, the annals, which I believe has far more than meets the eye. I’ve always known of St. Croix under odd circumstances. There was a small pond in my back yard that I put in while I was in middle school. I love the water, you see, and it took a lot of convincing to finally let my parents give in to putting in a pond. We still had it to this day and it was beautiful. It was only a hundred gallons shell, but the style of the pond, prefabricated, was called St. Croix, and so I always associated our little pond with that island. I love geography, and have always studied maps of the Caribbean, but that’s a different story. Regardless, I was really looking forward to finally coming to terms with the reality of St. Croix. Luckily, we had a long day in port there, so Madeline and I planned to have quite the day.

Getting off the ship took a little bit of extra time. I’m always forgetting things and so is Madeline, and we just had to go back a few times. We got off the ship with some friends so we decided to take some pictures on the dock. They’re pretty standard. Getting closer to land, we came upon some very frightening creatures. They were decorated men on stilts called “hooters” and they are the things of nightmares. It was the perfect way to start an adventure on a new world.

Moving forward we discovered an abandoned carnival. The wind was strong, brightening the colors of the place, highlighting the eerie emptiness of the whole mess. There were no Diamonds International, or Emeralds Express, or Tanzanite Outlets. There was only old town. There were only settled folk. There was only real life, different from the fantasy world of vacations. It was the most refreshing feeling.

We were lucky to find an island taxi that could take us to the opposite end for only 2.50. Most taxis charged $9 one way, so it was kind of a daunting deal. Were we tricking him or was he tricking us? Either way, after a 20 minute ride, we arrived in Christannsen. Taxis, I think, are one of the best ways to really feel out a land. The driver is always unique, and you zip by so quickly, its hard to process. Its like flipping through a a moving picture book. So many images that become one impression. Fantastic, but fleeting.

Christannsen had a nice old feel to it. It was fresh, clean, and old. Lots of abandoned buildings and forts. Like a giant derelict play land, a faire, so to speak. Most people turn their heads to these things, I think, but some of us find adventure in them. Madeline and I are lucky enough to have each other to enjoy similar ideals. There was an old, yellow fort on the harbor. You were supposed to buy tickets somewhere, but it really wasn’t arranged very well. We just walked in to what seemed to be an empty, staffless, building. It was well kept, but still haunting, looking out towards the sea in such a way. What I love most about these islands is all the boats you get to see. They’re everywhere, and each one, I’m sure, has it sown unique story to tell. Where its been and where its going. There are tons of smaller islands too with little houses and hotels on them, independent from the entire world. Each one a distinct life of its own. There really is so much out there. One world…one ocean…one continent…one archipelago…one island…one house…one soul, adrift at sea…and who are we? Who am I? What story do I have that’s greater than the one that came before me?

After the fort, we tried to find a nice beach to relax on. It turned into quite the hike. We walked down the street, and came upon a house being reclaimed by the jungle. Theres something all too exciting about excavating the ruins of old houses isn’t there? You start thinking of strange lives being lived…through these old, unfamiliar rooms. What ghosts still linger, and what is it they need before they disappear into the ether forever? My camera ran out of batteries there, but I did get some nice shots. The jungle had all but taken over the ruins. Moving on we came to an old gas station that had been converted to a restaurant. We found many more places like this. They all looked like they started as one thing and then morphed into another, and so on and so on until the buildings themselves become sort of forts in their own right. A central building surrounded by walls of belongings and bric-a-brac. Chickens and dogs running around like soldiers brought to alarm...lived in but loved in, each with its own personality. We walked by an ocean front road, where we saw old fishing boats being worked on and conch shells lining the street. The air smelled like the sea and the people looked at us with weary curiosity. Sometimes as a stranger you feel more at home in the land of the lost than anywhere else. Our walk to some sort of restaurant or popular area proved fruitless. It was Three Kings Day after all, and most public stores were closed. A reporter stopped us and asked what we thought of the place. We told her we both loved its charm. We assumed pseudo names so she wouldn’t print our real identities. I was Johannes and she was Adeline. We were either dating or siblings, because in Sweden, it can be hard to tell.

Completing a giant circle, we hiked back to the main square in Christannsen and decided to eat some food there before taking a cab to a neighboring bay for the rest of the afternoon. Along the boardwalk we ran into our good friend Jana! She was on a date with a comedian who was training for some sort of event called the joggleathon. Apparently you jog and juggle for like 5km. I don’t get it, but he had almost 0% body fat, which is fine. We stopped to have a lovely meal of fried tuna and buttery French shrimp sandwiches before finding our beach retreat. All the locals told us to simply take the water taxi to the nearby hotel island where you could just lay on the beach there, but that was too easy and close at hand. We decided to go a few bays over to Buccaneer Beach, where maybe things would be from a different perspective.

Adeline and I, Johannes, kept our pseudo names for the remainder of the trip. The Buccaneer Bay Beach was wonderful. We changed into our swimsuits in the nearby bushes like a couple of Bohemians while the other kept look out, and found relaxation in the calm water of St. Croix’s isolated beaches. It was our port of solace, separate from the ship, and our current realities. I think pretending to be someone else only helped our enjoyment of the afternoon. Only with this illusion could we shake the constant stress of making it back at departure time. Always coming and going, never any real time to enjoy. Its a give and take of a life. Besides swimming, ordering a couple drinks, and jumping off the pier, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about the couple hours we spent there, but it was unexpected and unpredictable, which is the key to good luck. I could not have imagined that place, and so it was that much more enjoyable. We decided that Buccaneer was a lame name, so we named the bay after our drinks, Madam Von Strolten’s rum punch. And so our afternoon had taken place at Cape Fjord Von Strolten…one of the most beautiful beaches in all of the West Indies.

On the way home, we joined forces with a family who had been stiffed by their previous taxi driver. It became evident that most of the people who cruise on Disney would not be enjoying St. Croix. Things weren’t jut perfect enough for them…and so come the complaints: “They were giving out free rum samples on the peir! Alchohol!!!” “The island is ugly.” “There’s not enough shopping!” These are the people of America. The backbone of my country. I did my best to chat with the driver to cover the uncomfortable silence in the cab. You could tell he had many stories to tell that Disney would not have been happy to hear. However, things turned sour when he stopped the car suddenly on a hill, and told us we had to wait for his son who would be meeting us here. Adeline needed to get back to the ship, and the family just stared at me dumbfounded, as if what was I, an officer, going to do? I told him we better continue to the ship, but suddenly he exited the vehicle and walked down the road. I followed him and told him we weren’t paying to wait for his son, who is “supposed” to meet him here, which was the middle of nowhere. After about 10 minutes this guy eventually showed up. He was in the U.S. military on leave and had gone to the wrong hill, apparently. He joined us on the rest of the ride and laughed when his father said that he would get us back to the ship in ten minutes. Our driver did not get a tip from anyone…except Johannes..who deep down, can understand the longing a father might have for a son…one day.

Adeline ran on board the ship while I took some time to wander the port. There was another abandoned fort there, this time red instead of yellow. I imagined a level you might find in Silent Hill at the abandoned fort. Theres a locked gate which you must find the key for in order to get access the top level and the cannons. You must shoot the cannon across the yard to find the gong, and then use the gong to ring the signal bell, which was foundered in Chicago, to my surprise. It’s a small world. I wandered to a liquor store hoping to buy some Carib, my favorite beer in the world, but it was too pricey, so I bought a drink made from Sea Moss with peanut. As I walked back to the ship and drank it, many locals pleasantly noted that I was enjoying that drink, telling me its also good with rum, and that I should enjoy it because I will need to make babies tonight. It was alright I guess, and I made plenty babies.

Back on the pier, the sun was setting and I had 30 minutes before I had to open my gallery. There was a local steel drum band playing and I sat to listen to their music for a minute. It was a wonderful sound. When the tune ended, the last song I heard was requested by a woman. If you haven’t heard Amazing Grace on steel drums, you should seek it out if you can remember. Letting the song bring back some memories I headed down the pier to my ship as the music drifted slowly away. As I got on the gangway, the song finally ended, and my wonderful day in St. Croix came to a close.

Preludes, Sessions, and Diversions

Preludes, Sessions, and Diversions

These are the names of the bars on my ship and they all sound like you are supposed to forget about them…very weak titles, but oddly endearing. Things go up and down here, like the ocean, and lately I’ve been a bit lonely. The holidays never existed as far as I’m concerned, and now we’re in a strange schedule, retrieving from these different islands across the Caribbean. The Greater Anitlles and the Lesser. The Windward Islands and the Leeward. To me, they all sound lost.

Tonight was open deck night and I didn’t really feel like drinking so I watched a movie with some friends instead…Wall-E. It was pretty enjoyable, as I always get a good kick out of some classic Science Fiction. Afterwards though, I decided to hea dup to the open deck for some fresh air and to see what was about. I’m glad I did. There was a full moon tonight, centered in the sky directly overhead, but the sky was full of clouds, which were lit brightly by the moon. It was bright and gorgeous. I find myself amazed at how I’m constantly enamored with these night skies out here. This time it made feel nostalgic for home. I have been telling myself I don’t miss the winters, and I really don’t, but the winter sky, lit by the moon and the snow really is something beautiful to miss. Obviously it wasn’t the same here in the sea off of Cuba, but for a moment I was overwhelmed with a feeling of being home again. Some pictures don’t need cameras to be captured for you, I suppose. Before I left, the clouds cleared a bit, leaving a perfect circular corona surrounding the full moon. A brilliant celestial eye staring down at me. I wonder who is watching me and I thank them for their guidance and good fortune.

I become overwhelmed when I stand out, alone looking to the endless ocean, but the sky as well. I find it’s like standing at a barrier between worlds, unreal and beyond spectacle. It crushes my sense of self, making me feel small beyond anything I’ve ever felt, and yet opens me to the freedom of being. I realize, here, when I try to find myself, I’m more lost than ever, like everything else. Is exhilarating to dare standing here into the eternity. Again, I feel more lost than ever, not knowing who I am at all. Its very emotional, touching me to the core, and I tear up a little bit, but before the drops are allowed to form, they are taken by the wind. Even in the dark, there is more light than I could ever imagine, and still, alone, I know not what I seek to understand.

As a teaser for the next adventures, I can say that St Marteen, St. Thomas and St. John were great. Many strange things occurred, and I can’t wait to share them with everyone. Its sort of like setting the teasers for the next episode…I saved a woman from a killer cactus…found love on Honeymoon Beach…had Nurse Joannie comment on how bulging my muscles were getting while performing primary grinding aboard our 12-metere regatta racing yacht…and Jaco and I met some topless ladies on the beach along the French side of the island )we BOTH got our swimsuits full of sand!)…and then the other major story breaks…Lisa left a while ago and I miss her, and the next week Jana was sent home too…two blonds on two weeks is a brave move by the producers, but I suppose they have some sort of plan for us…Lots of good things to come as well…be sure to tune in!

And to close it off…a dream:

I was walking alone along a hilly road in the woods, and I came upon an old, small cemetery. Among the headstones was a sculpture of a bear. As I approached it, it came to life. It was a small, quiet black bear and I took it into my arms where it hugged around my neck, frightened. I carried it with me into the end of my dream in order that I might set it free. I think it was a good dream to have.

Hell

Hell

Sea days are very long and hard times. It’s when we all work the hardest and when we can lose who we are the most. It pulls something out of you sometimes, and I wonder now and then if there isn’t a way to put it back. There are small reliefs here and there. There’s a nice little sandwich shop on deck 9 that I get to use where they have good wraps and smoked duck paninis, afterwards I sit on a quiet part of the deck and enojyo the beautiful ocean and sky (Very refreshing). I also rather enjoy seeing Alice in Wonderland walking about the ship. Although, my favorite versions of her story involve the darker interpretations. So I always try to talk in dark riddles to her, as well as the Red Queen.

“My dear Alice, I’m so glad you’ve wandered this way again. Now I must warn you my dear…of the Jabberwock…he wanders once more among the smithy toads and water groves, and when he finds you, as he always does, I fear his fury will put that of even the Red Queen’s to pity. Take care now, Dear Alice, take care.”

or

“All shall fall before that of the Red Queen…Oh, Crimson Mistress… fare well and Quickly, for we shan’t have any more of your cruel pleasure here.”

Although, for me, I find the best antidote to feeling grodgey is to go on a great adventure. One of these adventures came when a guest told me of a place called “Hell” on Grand Caymen. Apparently it’s some sort of geographic anomaly; a dark, barren volcanic formation. Sounds right up my alley. So one day I asked my dear friend Snow is she would like to accompany me, and as I had suspected before, she does have a much darker past than any of us ever expected. Of course she would accompany me to “Hell.”

I want to make it clear that I fully understand the risk involve with making jest and toying with grandeous themes of entire religions and human philosophy. Hell is a concept that should not be taken lightly, it is essentially an entire dimension of everything that we humans are supposed to fear..eternally. The idea of labeling a place on our world “Hell” is immediately dismissible as a foolish use of judgment, as we well know there can’t be a place in our universe that can even touch upon that of the real deal. But on the flip side, it peaks our curiosity…what must this “Hell” look like? It’s a false one, yes, but something about this place inspired one man to name it after that which we dread universally. What? Could it be one of Those places…a piece of that nightmare…of Silent Hill…of those shady groves which unsettle our nerves? Maybe there is something about it after all? I’m a sucker for the macabre.

So, after a very pleasant tender boat ride to shore, Madeline and I mused how difficult it would be to make our journey to this “Hell.” I assured her if it was meant to be, we would find our way there and back. For me, it was an ironic opportunity. I’ve been selling quite a bit of Dali’s Divine Comedy series mostly from Inferno. And as some of us know, the story of Inferno is the story of a lost poet, searching for meaning in the universe. Alone in the wood, he finds Aristotle who then guides him down through the 8 circles of Hell, and tells us of the sights he beholds. For me, this was life imitating art, in a much less epic way…but still…oh the adventures we find. Sure enough, before I could finish my cigarette a woman was able to show us to a taxi that could take us to “Hell.”

Something significant happened on the way there. Sure, Grand Cayman is pretty enough, so it was nice to see all the beaches, but when you’re journeying on a trip like this you look for the little signs, significants, to find some irony and amusement out of the whole thing. Halfway there, our cab driver pulled off the main road and stopped next to a cemetery. “See that grave there?” he asked. Of course we did. That was his parent’s grave stones. “See that spot next to them?”
Yes. That’s where he’s going to buried…and not too long…

Indeed, “Hell” was just a little tourist trap. The field was unique, different, unusual, and actually quite pretty in its ugly, stark way. The rocks looked dangerous, and it was hot. Not a place I’d like to spend eternity, but something definitely to see. It wasn’t spooky really, but there was a distinct lifelessness about it. Not a whole lot lived there…and I’m sure it’s totally different at night.

There was a little gift shop with all sorts of junk. I bought a rum cake which actually
turned out to be quite tasty.

I can’t say that “Hell” was a total disappointment, but I did expect it to be a bit bigger, and I would have liked to have walked around on it. But much like in Inferno, it is never what you expect, and anticlimactic. But that’s what gives up hope I suppose. For every spot of “Hell” on Earth, there is also eternal Paradise. This is an important thing to remind yourself. Expose yourself to the extremes, know what’s there, and in the end, we should know where we want to go. As for “Hell,” I’m never going back again.

Although one thing I know I can’t forget is that cab driver’s grave. I wonder how many people he shows that to, and how often he thinks of that himself? I wonder if he is a lonely man, and then I don’t know. What is the life of the carrion to “Hell?” Much like he who crosses the Damned in his boat across the River Styx.

Madeline and I had fun together and I’m glad to have her as a companion. Shes open to different things and one day I know I’ll get to visit her in San Francisco. I think how I’d like people I know to meet her, which is always a good sign. After “Hell” we explored the shops a bit to reset our normality. We went to the black coral gallery, but also the normal spots like the bank, and the library. Funny how these places can be more interesting than the “sights.” We enjoyed some brie and a drink before heading back to the Magic. We were almost late, but what’s in a day?

This next week I have a couple more adventures I’m really looking forward to, a Regatta sailing excursion where we race two world cup class racing yachts, a beach excursion to the nude French beaches on St. Marten, and an eco tour of St. John, a brand new island for me! These are the things to live for.

Ж۞۩₪

Next episode: “The Derelict Faire”

My Three Blonds

Oh how life goes on and how life changes on the sea, that floating shapeless ocean. I finally received my Bahamian Seaman’s Book and my Marshall Islands Maritime Registry!!! How exciting. I’m officially a seaman, according to the Bahamas. Who would have thought it? That…would be telling…

Anyways, there’s this new show I like to watch, it’s called My Three Blonds. It’s about this guy who works as the Art Gallery Director on a cruise ship. He’s young, kind of goofy, and has all sorts of misadventures. He has three different friends, all young blond babes. One is named Jana, and she’s a petite, yet fancy shopping guide on the ship. She goes around talking about charm bracelets and Diamonds (capital D). This guy and Jana love to mingle with the other officers and talk about diamonds, and usually in the ports they go shopping together and check out the biggest jewels in the Caribbean! The second blond is Lisa who is a youth counselor manager. She’s always getting thrown up on and pooped by the little ones, and has her own set of misadventures trying to manage all these kids…who are CRAZY! Then there’s Madeline, who plays a princess and walks around the ship all dressed up avoiding apples.

His roommate changes every week, and its totally ridiculous the guys he has to share a room with; a fat Panamanian, a raspy voiced Phillipino, and even a young sporty Frenchman! This guy goes off with each of the blonds separately and has wild experiences all on their own. Sometimes he gets caught up on the beach in Mexico with Lisa, sometimes Madeline and him go to Hell where the cab driver keeps taking them back to the cemetery in which he will soon be buried, and sometimes Jana needs his big muscles to carry around brochures to all the stores in the Virgin Islands. And a lot of the time they go out to the crew bar to mingle with all the babes, having all sorts of romantic interludes…separate and sometimes…J It’s all funny what happens to them, but touching too. This guy is sort of a lost soul searching for something…lost and unknown… Madeline is trying to right what might be a more troubled past than she lets on…Jana is trying to stand up for women in a man’s world and be a success… and Lisa too searches for the meaning of love in a sea of dreams…So when do I watch this show? Every day of my fucking waking life, because it’s me!!!!! I’m the guy! Hahahahahaha

Next Adventure: “Hell”