Excerpt From
Sabatini, Rafael. “Captain Blood.”

There’s a lot percolating at this time of year, events which a year ago were just dates on the calendar, Thanksgiving, Armistice Day, Christmas and New Year. Not to mention Black Friday. Distinguishing the celebration and fanfare is the rush to reclaim ourselves, our family and friends from the wreck that is 20 months of a global pandemic. It has been an unprecedented time. We casually compare the status to that of a plague. It is a sentimental time as we wistfully recall the way things were, what we could have done but missed doing because of circumstance; and what we intend to do by way of recovery. It doesn’t require a transcendental or Kantian bent to appreciate that we may indeed be as insects on the planet Earth; or less mystically that there’s no time to be wasted. And also to recall the strength of those from whom we unwittingly derive our being. We may from a distance appear uncharacteristic, indifferent, uncaring but we have personality which if we look for it affords the sinews and purpose of composition that go beyond entertainment, travel or things. I haven’t the words to capture or to suggest the spirit of pioneering in which I am now engaged. The door of opportunity is re-opening for many of us. While I can’t say that within my sphere everything is precisely as I would prefer, I will certainly dismiss as futile any absorption other than getting on with it.

I have trouble sleeping not because of anxiety but because of anticipation. So pressing is the hope and expectation of meaningful enterprise (which is to say novelty and distinction) that I won’t let the time slip away unattended. We’re letting the clocks wind down as we prepare to abandon our digs for the winter. We have removed from the closets, shelves and drawers of dressers and desks all that might pertain to our hibernation. Thankfully we have a vehicle suited to fathom accommodation.