The Moby Dick reading marathon ends at noon today, with a big birthday cake for Melville. The joey Zone is in the thick of it down on the decks of the Charles W. Morgan in Mystic Seaport. His chapter was read in the middle of the night, I think (but I could be mis-remembering). It's a free event, so there's time yet to catch the reading of the last few chapters. To the left here's some scrimshaw carved by Robert Weiss of Queequeg, Ishmael's pal.
So, of course these nautical adventures remind me upon waking of a Spike Milligan poem that I can't quite remember right (of course, as we all know too well, I'm constitutionally incapable of remembering anything quite right):
Let's sail away on a gravy boat,
You and me and Franklin the stoat.
We'll live our lives on the Caspian Sea,
And eat nothing but jellyfish for our tea.
Or something like that...
Is it really August?! No, no -- can't be. Surely.