Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. 
Got to thinking about Moby-Dick earlier today. Which got me thinking about the marathon reading that happens each year at the Museum of the Sea in Mystic Seaport hosts a 24-hour reading of
Moby-Dick on board the Charles W. Morgan which is the last remaining wooden whaling ship in the world.
This year it's happening July 31st-August 1st. Love that this event exists. Details
here.
whale image by Tom Neely
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