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@fastfishloosefish
ishmael. he/him.
Because one did survive the wreck.
yeah like from moby dick. the book. yeah, the 1851 one by herman melville. knower of extremely true fish facts; has a tattoo of slightly incorrect whale dimensions; talks philosophy and shitposts, often at the same time; dreamer.
turn not thy back to the compass. // navigation
it’s so scary that fish teeth sometimes look like people teeth. you’re not supposed to have that. well maybe piranhas are scared of us having piranha teeth. i will reflect on my human centric worldview (folds my hands behind my back and gazes out at the horizon)
thinking about it again (saturday night at sea by george cruikshank)
"you can't just relate everything back to this ship" prepare to be stunned and amazed at how little control i have over my own brain
he moby on my dick til i Squeeze! Squeeze! Squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me, and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-labourers' hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally, as much as to say,—Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill humour or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.
...Lord, when shall we be done growing? As long as we have anything more to do, we have done nothing. So, now, let us add Moby Dick to our blessing, and step from that. Leviathan is not the biggest fish; – I have heard of Krakens. This is a long letter, but you are not at all bound to answer it. Possibly, if you do answer it, and direct it to Herman Melville, you will missend it – for the very fingers that now guide this pen are not precisely the same that just took it up and put it on this paper. Lord, when shall we be done changing? Ah! it’s a long stage, and no inn in sight, and night coming, and the body cold. But with you for a passenger, I am content and can be happy. I shall leave the world, I feel, with more satisfaction for having come to know you. Knowing you persuades me more than the Bible of our immortality.
-> LETTER TO NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, NOVEMBER [17?] 1851
"kill them with kindness" WRONG. FISH🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟
🌸🌸🌸!!!
🌸… a curious fact.
"Oh!" Ishmael startles; his companion on the train is asking about—the nature of public transportation, he thinks? He peers at this—being, so strange to him. "No, I don't get sick of the swaying. I used to work on a ship, you see—the most tempestuous seas barely move me."
🌸… a curious fact.
"Never this fast, however, and for much longer. Our journeys would take months or years before coming back to land, always lonely, always boring. The sea is vaster than we would ever know, and she knows that." He looks out the window at the landscape rushing past. "Even the sheer size of the whale is miniscule even compared to it."
🌸… a curious fact.
"But if you waited long enough—! You could see a whale, spouting, or playing about in the water, and you would call out for it, and the whole ship would know. The captain would give order to lower! and we would give chase." Ishmael twirls his finger, a mildly pointless gesture meant to indicate the sudden burst of movement.
"We all knew we might die, there," he says, thoughtfully, perfectly serene. It wouldn't matter, of course, if that happened. The great shroud of the sea, etc. "But it was what we lived for."
"Your not Taigong Wang.....want me to Isoladash some bait over? I mean i just thought it be more authentic to procure the bait on sight. A whaling man huh? You know whale oil haven't been widely used since the early 21 century right? Still....this isn't our world and having a hobby don't hurt. I mean i have heard rumors of sea beast. Mutation from this city creating monsters of the sea."
Huey manage to catch one and have to throw it back into the ocean after realizing it was a bit to small. Bloody hell he don't expect a salmon but come on.
"Relax. The concrete gonna make that man sink to the bottom fast. The lid was sealed with the best glue in the market. Fish only feast on the open water dead. They think he a rock and ignore him after the original impact. I had to make sure the body don't just resurface in a day or two. He was a bastard, the family wanted justice, the cops can't deliver and i had bills to pay."
It was just business to Huey. He was paid to get a asshole. He got the asshole. Dealt with the asshole not he enjoying his free time.
"Your short on dust? I can rent you a fishing boat for another day. Again....it would be unwise of you to not go with a body guard or at least carry a weapon. The sea monsters here have special abilities i heard.. "
Another dud. Another small fry as Huey sigh.
".....what kind of whales by the way and you miss your team? You hunt whales with a team right?"
"Isoladash?" he says, frowning, the term totally unfamiliar, "—dear lad, I'm from the nineteenth century, thank you very much." Can't a guy stare into the water in peace?
Ishmael sighs, reels in the fishing rod and sets it to the side, all pretense of fishing gone. "It's no hobby," he corrects, a tad harshly, "it is a noble profession, whaling is." He leans back on his palms. "Sperm whale oil once lit up the whole coast at night—spermaceti, they call it; do they still name it so? Here they have those" (he mimics flipping a switch) "electric lights. It seems I am no longer useful.
"And I am no fool, sir," he grins. He points out the horizon. "I do not rent a boat; I only go as crew of a vessel, else I work on the docks. I'm in no need of another employer yet, stranger. I beg of you not to explain to me the sea."
we need tumblr custom emojis STAT. :whalemiddlefinger: :whalemiddlefinger: :whalemiddlefinger:
Robert Henri - Rough Seas Near Lobster Point (1903)
[ID: a painting of the sea thrashing against big black rocks on the shoreline. the sky is dark and the water foams and spills from pitch black to powdery blue to white. the painting is with a wider brush, and thick enough that the brush fibers are visible in the whitest sections of the painting. end ID]
Listening to a non-fiction book about maritime disaster and the way this author is describing the ship sinking is so sexual
Hear me out.
[Image: two screenshots of text. Forward, where the worst of the onslaught was concentrated, the ice was inundating her. It piled higher and higher against her bows as she repelled each new wave, until gradually it mounted to her bulwarks, then crashed across the deck, overwhelming her with a crushing load that pushed her head down even deeper. Thus held, she was even more at the mercy of the floes driving against her flanks. The ship reacted to each fresh wave or pressure in a different way. Sometimes she simply quivered briefly as a human being might wince if seized by a single, stabbing pain. Other times she retched in a series of convulsive jerks accompanied by anguished outcries. On these occasions her three masts whipped violently back and forth as the rigging tightened like harpstrings. But most agonizing for the men were the times when she seemed a huge creature suffocating and gasping for breath, her sides heaving against the strangling pressure.]
Me seeing this post: there's no way you can sexualize a sinking ship
Me after reading this post: I stand corrected
The Great Lakes should have their own very small species of whale
[image id: A black and white illustration of a tall ship tossed about on a stormy ocean.
The text reads: “Three Things to Keep in Mind While Boating 1. The ocean wins 2. The ocean always wins 3. Why did you agree to go on this boat, anyway” /end id]
sea, swallow me
[image: digital painting of a black woman in a white nightgown, standing at the edge of the ocean with the waves lapping at her ankles. the color palette is faded yellow and dark blue.
the woman stares into the dark water, the sky gray; a string of sparse pearls is loosely held in her hand. around her, painted panels show a broken seashell, an open-mouthed oyster with a black pearl in its center, a fish stiff and vertical, a single strand of kelp with fish swimming around it. end alt text]
