Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about the killer whale tank.

** Image ID #2036546 Unavailable **

"It’s time for music! Tell us where we are going to hear some. Are we going to an opera? A concert? Are we listening to some chamber music or a grand choir? Tell us about the evening.

Good afternoon mateys! Sorry for mostly keeping to myself so far on our voyage...I've been trying to stay busy though, and sometimes that's kept me from interacting the way I normally would under different circumstances. What have I been up to? Finishing posting the ironically-now titled works of loose poetry from 2003-2005 from my 18-gallon bin of writings, "Cabin Fever" ...and because I'm a glutton for punishment, this will lead directly to its follow-up, "Slurred Emotions (highlights)"  (but don't get married to that item number, because it might change- I'm not sure yet how I'm gonna work that, because there are awards and reviews and stuff that I wanna maintain). So there's that. You could say I've been using my downtime from the ship to kick back against a large rock near the shore and bust out some poems...I won't hold that against you.

Then there's the whole judging of the March round of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , which I haven't forgotten about. I've been working the internet wires, rounding up my faithful guest-judges, but I'm not putting a timetable yet on announcing the winners because again, I'm just behind. Fulfilling the Cabin Fever project to myself has lead me down this road, and I won't complain if you hold that against me.

And then, I decided to upgrade to Premium on WDC last night, which lead to a flurry of emails from the shop and support. All I've gotten out of it so far is the costumicon though, but I can already feel the sweat of another portfolio reorganizing dripping down my back (no thanks of course to my mentioned "Slurred Emotions" collection coming back to life in full). But I'm not making excuses and I don't expect anyone to fully understand, even if the reality is some might because here we are on WDC doing what it is we love isn't trying to kill us in the feels...I'm sure all of your ports are properly updated and manicured and are waiting for your inclusion into some national registry just right.

So on that note, we're taking a break today just to hear some music (or in my case, not taking a break anymore just to hear some). Sure, you could go to mine or Charlie ~ 's bunks and peruse the vast selection of vinyl records we brought at any time, or catch Brother Nature and Lyn's a sly fox down in the ship's lobby slow-dancing to the love theme from Titanic, but sometimes you just wanna have a classic blues/rock Canadian dance party in the hallways when it's time to recharge the Roombas after another intense round of Roomba Polo league play (updated standings coming soon). There's tallboys of Labatt Blue available at the bar (and Blue Light for the misses), so let's all shake what mama gave us.

Sometimes I feel so good I wanna scream...she said "Norby baby, I know exactly what you mean." She said...I swear to god she said...so we headed to the shore and put our feet back up on the banks. I looked up to the Lord above and said "Hey Buck 65, thanks!" The memory is muddy; what's this river that I'm in? "New Orleans is sinkin' man and I don't wanna swim...swim!"

I was taken back to the first job I had, at the aquarium in the killer whale tank  . The killer whale tank! The killer whale tank ? Killer whale tank. I was in the CNS Union, the clean 'n scrub, and I cleaned the killer whale tank. And I made friends with Shamu and Bartholomew, while cleaning the killer whale tank. All one word...killerwhaletank.

I told them, "I don't wanna steal your mommy, and I don't wanna take the place of your daddy...I just wanna be your friend!". And then they ripped my left arm off, because unbeknownst to whales, I can't hear a god damn thing underwater.

Killer whale tank. But what if I need my left arm to load bowling ball cannons? What if I need to defend my ship and maybe even my country some day? My orange bowling ball, the 15-pound one with the guitar that was enscripted with the word "Boogie" over it and beared my initials on the other side? Who else has a sweet-ass bowling ball they can sacrifice on this ship? I lost mine in a basement in Lancaster and maybe it's in a South Buffalo pawn shop on the way to the cozy Orchard Park suburbs...have you seen my arm? I can't be a Greek God hero without it. Who's got a bowling ball?

Killer whale tank. The killer whale tank does. Why does the water look like an aquarium? Why does...why is this so intense? But why? I was raised on tv, like so many of you. Right? Pull! Ch-ch...boom! And no religion too...this is a Sunday? Don't we feel compelled to give thanks today, because all the good tv is on later in the week anyway? Killer whale tank. Killer whale tank? Killerwhaletank. But the pirates...and Jesus Christ, a big fuckin' bear!! With no religion too. Pull! Ch-ch...pull! PULL!! Boom-ch-ch...boom!

I just wanna dance. The kids, they dance and shake their bones. I just wanna...dance. I can't feel my arm...I can't feel your arms around me without my arm. Marilyn Monroe is dead. I can't feel my arm. And shhhh...we all go to heaven in a little rowboat like psssh, hit the low note. We all go to heaven in a little rowboat. But he holley, Elvis Presley...psssh, hit the low note. We all go to heaven in a little rowboat. Like psssh...1957  . 1957.

Every good Canadian band needs a song about a nautical disaster. This song is called "Nautical Disaster".

Anyway Susan, if you'd like...a conversation...just make a sound
in my memory, with those fingernails...scratchin'...
on my heart
in a lifeboat, designed for ten
or ten only...
and we're headin' for home...
it's not a fear and nor a test..

Well, we've done it folks. We're back here again at the hundredth meridian.
It's just a line. Just gotta step over it.

Peace, I remember Buffalo, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!

"If I die of vanity promise me promise me
it's somewhere I don't want to be."