Well. This is taking longer than I thought. We’ve been at sea for months now and with the excitement of our new guests wearing off, the men have started to wilt from boredom. The man in the crow’s nest, one of my most trusted ship-mates, has been hallucinating from staring at such a blank horizon for so long. He keeps claiming to see things but all we’ve come across is a floating pair of boots. But damn, if those aren’t some nice boots. They even have the initials, B.S imprinted on them in gold lettering. Most likely their previous owner. Despite the crew’s superstitions claiming these fine pieces of footwear are a bad omen, the man in the crow’s nest wears them regardless. Maybe it’s pride. Either way, I for one say they belong to the sea herself and that her name Bullshit. I’ve spent way more money than expected releasing this album and all I’ve got to show for it so far is scurvy and some useless knowledge of hip-hop choreography. After the cost of digital distribution (to most streaming platforms…itunes, spotify, pandora…etc), physical CD printing, copyrights, business cards, etc. This has cost me a pretty penny. But, I knew what I was getting into when I set sail for the Prog-Rock Islands and I know it will all be worth it when I arrive on 01/25/19. It’s just, right now it seems like a self-perpetuated purgatory. Sometimes I wonder why I walk the path I do.
1 minute later
DUDE! THIS FUCKIN’ ALBATROSS JUST SWOOPED IN FROM NOWHERE AND JACKED MY SEA BISCUITS! Shit! I almost fell right off the poop deck trying to grab it’s skinny-ass legs. It continued to fly up to the man in the crow’s nest, where I witnessed the most epic struggle between man and beast in my entire life. He grabbed a hold of it’s legs and violently wrestled the stolen biscuits from it’s clutches like they were his current missing sense of purpose. It all happened so fast that from down here it looked like a giant white umbrella that he was holding became sentient and started aggressively opening and closing upon his face. The scene left most of the crew rolling on the deck in hysterical laughter. Immediately after that blip of excitement, all we could see was the bird flying away and the man’s legs up in the air because he’d fallen on his back. The golden initials, B.S were gleaming in the sun. He quickly stood up and triumphantly raised the recovered food items in his hands, proceeded to take a victorious bite of one, then looked over his shoulder for the bird. But his eyes caught something else. The man’s demeanor completely changed to one of intense focus as he squinted towards the horizon. We wondered if everything was ok. He turned back around and screamed, “LAND HO!” as the half chewed biscuits exploded from his mouth. There was much cheering, hooting and hollering from the men below. Ever since that day, his new nickname has stuck quite well. We call him “Biscuits”.