The Sea Takes it All!
That’s the title of this Prologue. I’m now logging on a laptop—la-dee-da! These will most likely be corroded, lost, and forgotten before even being read by prying eyes. They will be written such. Those that survive survive. Those that don’t, well… Nothing lasts forever—except everything…
What a life it is.
That’s the subtitle. Those of these that survive to become officially logged logs—rather than just fragments of remembered lost-logs-long-gone-by—will consciously and intentionally be written in such a way so as to be free to be read. Thus, I will unfortunately, but necessarily, censor details which, if ever made known to a general public, or even especially to my parents, would obviously be ripe for their inevitable report to regulatory/religious/governmental “authorities” or any other
particularly chosen apparatuses of physical/ideological control. Further, I will attempt to write purposefully and presently, without intent for too much later correction/edit. I will attempt to avoid writing The Big Heavy Wood as some sort of personal memoir—my words being written, as such—and will, instead, attempt to write it as though, through some odd turn of events, per chance, the current focus of your lenses—through, then, the words being read. That being this, this being that, and both this and that being what they are and having been said:
It’s Big It’s Heavy It’s Wood
Thursday, January 31, ’08: Mission Bay, San Diego
Starting in the middle—or even at the end? Though all previous days of all previous weeks of all previous months inevitably entailed and were oft entangled with the fine fine vessel Iniki and most invariably entailed her sailing, serendipity now seems silly—to delve too deeply into the prologue: preparations, tidal-pier-tied-paintjobs, boat-work, boat-work, boat-work, rig-repairs-at-anchors, broken tillers, broken goosenecks, etc.—given that we’re only to finally actually leave for the great beyond either today or tomorrow.
However, in light of recent discoveries in the annals of the SIP archives, and in attempt to ensure their preservation, I open the Big Heavy Wood with a few narrated stills of the early life of the fine fine vessel Iniki followed by Life On a Sailboat Rocks—written over the first months aboard:
That’s the title of this Prologue. I’m now logging on a laptop—la-dee-da! These will most likely be corroded, lost, and forgotten before even being read by prying eyes. They will be written such. Those that survive survive. Those that don’t, well… Nothing lasts forever—except everything…
What a life it is.
That’s the subtitle. Those of these that survive to become officially logged logs—rather than just fragments of remembered lost-logs-long-gone-by—will consciously and intentionally be written in such a way so as to be free to be read. Thus, I will unfortunately, but necessarily, censor details which, if ever made known to a general public, or even especially to my parents, would obviously be ripe for their inevitable report to regulatory/religious/governmental “authorities” or any other
particularly chosen apparatuses of physical/ideological control. Further, I will attempt to write purposefully and presently, without intent for too much later correction/edit. I will attempt to avoid writing The Big Heavy Wood as some sort of personal memoir—my words being written, as such—and will, instead, attempt to write it as though, through some odd turn of events, per chance, the current focus of your lenses—through, then, the words being read. That being this, this being that, and both this and that being what they are and having been said:
It’s Big It’s Heavy It’s Wood
Thursday, January 31, ’08: Mission Bay, San Diego
Starting in the middle—or even at the end? Though all previous days of all previous weeks of all previous months inevitably entailed and were oft entangled with the fine fine vessel Iniki and most invariably entailed her sailing, serendipity now seems silly—to delve too deeply into the prologue: preparations, tidal-pier-tied-paintjobs, boat-work, boat-work, boat-work, rig-repairs-at-anchors, broken tillers, broken goosenecks, etc.—given that we’re only to finally actually leave for the great beyond either today or tomorrow.
However, in light of recent discoveries in the annals of the SIP archives, and in attempt to ensure their preservation, I open the Big Heavy Wood with a few narrated stills of the early life of the fine fine vessel Iniki followed by Life On a Sailboat Rocks—written over the first months aboard:
The Iniki as first found and fallen in love with Day 2: Brighter skies and a new paintjob
Day 2: Time to get wet
Note the burned window
Decrepit but afloat
One year haul-out:
Being painted by the Beautiful Porschia of Catalina Isle
Christening By Johnboy A. Santino
