Monday, July 21, 2008

# 10,000

Two Bells into the night's first watch, July 21. Depending on your Skipper.

This is a tiny little web presence. It's taken this long to get enough people looking for "pope fish Friday" and "alyson hannigan" to get to this momentous occasion: 10,000 hits.
Sure. I know everybody else gets that in one afternoon, but we're special here on The Big Green Boat.
Thanks for sharing this.
Particularly since the guy from Whole Foods who snagged the #10,000 spot is a long-lost old Summer Camp "dear-friend" of My Beloved.
But that's how it's supposed to work here, isn't it? Welcome to the only private web page that doesn't require a password. It's just us, the twelve of us who stop by every day wondering if I have anything to say. Thanks, all.
More than three years ago, I started to make "entries" on line here in The Journal of H.M.S. Impossible.
I truly can't recall the date when I started this, but I do remember (1) thinking that I had something important to share, and (2) that I deleted about eight months of nasty remarks about former bosses, neighbors, co-workers, employees, and local businesses.
For those just climbing aboard, the conceit allows that, due to a shift in the cosmic axis, I spent some years in another century. As well as in the Twentieth.
And spent three issues as Howard the Duck.
No, wait. That was someone else.
But it gives me a perspective that is unique, and chicks dig that.
I have spent some years here trying to avoid becoming a medical blog. I could do that very easily, but: Really. I got Lyme Disease and it insulted my kidneys to the extent that they're currently working at about a quarter of what yours are. Not because they won't work because they're insulted, which would just mean that my kidneys are the kind of people that I would never hang around with, but, oh never mind...
Because I find most of those health-related "blogs" either (a) terrifically frustrating, usually fakeries by some pharmaceutical PR flak, filled with whimpering about esoteric technical details, and hopes for a medicine cabinet space-consuming product that will --- SURPRISE! -- suddenly appear.
Or, (b) they're so damned personal and self-important and, well, personal. (Not to belittle your particular idiom, but, how, exactly, does your 4:15 AM blood sugar affect the people who are trying to understand how Johnny Cunningham and Warren Zevon could share a stage? Yeah, well, I thought so. Talk about your symptoms with your health-care provider.)
I was diagnosed with diabetes on my seventh birthday. My Mom could tell you what that was like. It made me the kid who read EVERYthing and snuck around doing stuff that everyone said I couldn't do because I had "the sugah."
That was back when diabetes didn't mean you were a hundred years old and overweight. Or twelve and obese. This was the diabetes that meant you were a rare case, a kid whose pancreas didn't work. Luckily for all of us, one form of diabetes became a popular pastime that created many areas of economic growth, including Wilford Brimley.
I, however, was just a kid who got told he was going to lose his leg and then die.
I have spent a lot of time avoiding that eventuality. Or denying that reality. Whichever side you fall on.
I didn't listen to a lot of people, and eventually that got me described as "difficult."
Even by the ones who said I was "good-looking."
My family, because of its superior Fall River breeding, simply made it obvious to me that we were family and that we all looked out for each other. Period. So when you hear me make fun of Fall River, I'm kicking at the idiots who don't get that.
Some people actually made it possible for me to be still here. Large.
That's who I mean when I say "crew." Or "shipmate." And you, dear reader, probably have one of those who needs a hug right now. "So give, 'em. brudda." Which is something my old friend Woody would say. He's another one. And so is Sophronia. Shipmates.
And David. And Bitterandrew. And Karie and Katie and Cat and Powderhorn and SCM and Steve and b.o.b BOB and James and all the anonymouses...
See how shipmates are? Everywhere you look. The deck is pretty small. Depending on the vessel.
So, here I am, after a bunch of decades absolutely drowning myself in every damned thing that I tried, trying to make it look easy to everyone who was looking, everyone that I was working for and trying to teach something to everyone that I tried to work for, or work with. Or love.
I could talk about these people and you'd probably recognize their names, but a lot of them probably feel pretty put-out already. And for that, I am sorry. If you happen to be one of those people who has Googled™ "PJ Carroll" and "that jerk."
You'll recognize the music I sometimes allow you to see over there under the LastFM widget. You'll recognize the bookshelves barely reproduced at LibraryThing. (I haven't entered the Kenneth Robesons.)
I could have been the Anthony Bourdain of the boat-and-museum world, but whatever teevee that I did do made me swear off ever attempting such a thing.

Honestly, you don't want to know what I really did.
I don't understand why people don't hold doors, cover their mouths, wear nice clothes, or operate four-way stops correctly.
I have a 45 of The Raspberries' I Wanna Be With You and a little Close'n'Play-like device so that when the electromagnetic pulse wipes everything else out, my Beloved and I will dance and feel sorry for everyone who was afraid. Honestly, I will miss Nina Simone's version of Leonard Cohen's Suzanne.
I have few rules.
  • Never purposefully put yourself in a situation where you have to fire a gun or wield any weapon at another person.
  • Know how to fire or wield any weapon.
  • Leave before throwing a punch.
  • Drink plenty of water.
  • Be aware of what you're eating.
  • Understand "waste."
  • Learn something from everyone and everything.
  • Fear is useless. Remain unafraid.
  • "Critical" is not the same as "criticizing."
  • Pick up litter. Wherever it is.
  • Walk deliberately, with a purpose. Or at least look like it.
  • When the doctors ask why you should be put on the transplant list, say, "Because I'm not finished."


Jim Rattray said...

Hey, you're first 10k! Way to go!

karie said...

Damned right, you are "not finished." At only 10k you have a whole lot further to go!

Dr. Momentum said...

Thank you for "remain unafraid."


Jonathan said...

Had I known that I was #10,000 I would have posted on my first visit instead of skulking away. As PJ's Beloved's long-lost camp friend, it's humbling to join a party that has evolved over 3 years. I look forward to earning my place on the crew. And about fear, I'm not sure that remaining unafraid is practical or possible. A good friend of mine likes to say "Live in fear." Perhaps the middle ground is to "Make fear your friend." Onward.

bitterandrew said...

A late "congratulations" and "thank you," good sir.

ThirdMate said...

You're welcome, all.

Jonathan: Does your friend work in network news? They seem to live pretty comfortably in fear. I don't deny fear, I've just found it useless in my endeavors. The way some people find that guilt is useless. Plus, I find caution and information to be way more rewarding friends. Now you've learned and earned. Remain Unafraid.

Also, to all: I knew that I'd forgotten some hands, and apologize, but explain that the post was hastily scrawled while the biodegradeable confetti was still falling and the extra grog rations were flowing.

Since then, I've been away from the nav station because Severe Mildew Warnings were issued.
I've been following the Mold Channel's advice and dipping the entire guest house and outbuildings in white vinegar.

Thanks for climbing aboard.
I'll Be Blasting You!

ThirdMate said...

Major Mudd used to close with that.

Lefty said...

Congratulations on your 10,000th hit! Here's hoping the next 10k comes twice as fast!

ThirdMate said...

Y'see, everyone? This is how it always works for your third mate...

If you don't mention Lefty, Lefty shows up, and you feel like a nub.

Thanks for kind thoughts.

SCM said...

Congratulations on your 10,000th, PJ! 1万番目のヒット万歳!I have enjoyed reading your posts for some months now.

But, really, what do you have against fear? I find it bracing, a pick-me-up like that first cup or four of coffee in the morning.

Keep posting!