Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Just when I think I've fallen into the drink (and, no, I don't mean the Gulf Of Mexico)…

posted by Bill Arnett @ 2:15 PM Permalink

…lost my senses, my ability to breathe or think, the gigantic group of shish kabob-like tines holding the blocks of memories forming what's left of my mind that slowly spins there, allowing me to run freely along one tine at a time able to visit blocks as I leap from one to each new one, feeling like Rocky the Flying Squirrel, until I have either run out of blocks with memories or have grown bored or sick or half-insane (did I really say half?), mostly from the chronic pain that dominates the competition for my thought and time I find myself having to make a leap of faith to a new tine, kinda like closing your eyes, throwing yourself off a cliff, and hoping that a new tine will have rotated into a place upon which I can land.

I spent most of my time for the last couple of week seeing old doctors and new. The new doctor doubled again the amount of instant relief (ir) morphine in order to raise my total intake daily to the same amounts for the slow and instant relief. 'Bout 1/4 gram a day total.

As a result, the last few days I have awakened with a clear mind, and, I suppose, not being in screaming agony, as some sign of a possible return of sanity, a distinct disinterest in politics, what general has said what disparaging the president, for which he will almost certainly be given the option to either fall on his sword or enclose himself within the confines of his sumptuous tent with his service weapon and a silver bullet (to ward off any further dissent within the ranks by other wolf man-type officers) and told to do his duty.

I do worry endlessly about the Gulf, though, and those beautiful snow white sands of Fort Walton Beach, which the press, for some reason, chose to ignore and simply bypassed it going directly to Destin. I suppose there is a fairness in that as, if the incoming tides through Destin Pass bring a substantial amount of the oil during the incoming tide into Choctawhatchee Bay and, further, into Navarre Sound, a large part of local fishing and reasons for visiting this area will disappear without comment.

I remember the red snapper boats leaving the Destin piers loaded with tourists before dawn to head out to the really deep waters to bring back thousands of pounds of fresh snapper, while their trolling counterparts with the hugh outriggers fished for the plentiful blue mackerel, spanish mackerel, albacore and more. Even thought the big boats had radios and kept each other advised of where the fish were all us Florida kids knew all you had to do was watch for the seagulls that would gather in hugh numbers to feed on the small fish and bits and pieces of fish floating to the surface from semi-deep mackerel attacks and just get there before the charters could have time to try to surround and shut out us in smaller boats.

I suppose the hugh pods of dolphins I grew up with are now gone. I actually had the privilege of watching two dolphins break away from the pod while I waited in the water for my dad to spin back around to pick me up after I dropped off the rope skiing and literally kill a blue shark, both going out at full speed, then breaking in what almost appeared to be the two sides of a heart. When the first dolphin slammed into the (maybe 7-8 feet long, 400-500 pounds in weight) shark's gills it literally knocked the shark several feet off his track, and when the second dolphin slammed into its gills from the other side it was clear that the shark was dead or dying, and slowly sank down into the deep. Then the dolphins came back up to play.

That pod always seemed to know somehow when we were in the area and would swim alongside at 30-35 knots, tail-walking, laughing at us, and really seemed to invite us to stop and play. They loved running alongside us and playing while we kids would waterski on the Gulf just off Destin.

The thought that even if there are no longer any dolphins members of that pod alive, it's beyond sad that the area of the Gulf there, formerly the home to more pods of dolphins that could be counted, now faces the loss of these beautiful creatures whom have always thrown their lot in with man and saved many a swimmer from drowning or being eaten by sharks,

If you have never swam with dolphins let me tell you, they are the gentlest, most intelligent, and good-hearted creatures you could ever meet, and vastly more intelligent than man. You can't help but sense it.

But deep-drilling is safe. The oil companies said so and still do. The politicians say it is and fight to have the drilling resume.

I wonder what my dolphins think.

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At 7:50 AM, Blogger The Vidiot said...

beautiful post, man.

this fucking thing really pisses me off. I can't even wrap my head around it it's so bad.


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