Captain Skip... it would seem your not the only, or first sailor who ever
got a little down.


1851
MOBY DICK;
OR THE WHALE
by Herman Melville


CHAPTER 1

Loomings



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. ....................

================================================== =========================================
For sometimes when I am feeling as big as the land
With the velvet hill in the small of my back
And my hands are playing the sand

And my feet are swimming in all of the waters
All of the rivers are givers to the ocean
According to plan, according to man

Well sometimes when I am feeling so grand
And I become the world
And the world becomes a man

And my song becomes a part of the river
I cry out to keep me just the way I am
According to plan

According to man, according to plan
According to man, according to plan
Oh there's a chance peace will come
In your life, please buy one
Oh there's a chance peace will come
In your life, please buy one

For sometimes when we have reached the end
With the velvet hill in the small of my backs
And our hands are clutching the sand
Will our blood become a part of the river
All of the rivers are givers to the ocean
According to plan, according to man
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one.
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one
For sometime when we have reached the end
With the velvet hill in the small of my backs
And our hands are clutching the sand.
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one



================================================== =========================================

I am indeed depressed. TMI warning: I have chronic major depression,
which I've managed for many years, but at one time was 2x weekly
therapied, daily medicated and managed not to kill myself over my
perceived shortcomings. Due to current circumstance, I'm currently in
a failed remission, for lack of a better phrase, and it colors my
thinking and writing and, indeed, my life. That it's strictly
situational has prevented me from taking medical or other measures
beyond my own coping skills (I went to grad school on that one, so to
speak, and am reasonably good at it). One of the symptoms of
depression is the lack of interest in anything which used to be
pleasurable.


And finally, just in case you all didn't know, I love the community
here, even the flamers and shovers, for I recognize them for what they
are. I long ago got a crispy crust fighting other dragons, and am not
injured. Sometimes it's even fun to joust, but mostly I just enjoy
the heat :{))

Thanks, you all, for your public and private concerns. As always,
stay tuned...

L8R

Skip

Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery !
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"You are never given a wish without also being given the power to
make it come true. You may have to work for it however."
(and)
"There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its
hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts."
(Richard Bach, in The Reluctant Messiah)