Across the Sea of mp3 [almost!]
(the story of a “poor shipwrecked sailor” lost in a virtual sea. And the heroic rescue attempts of the good ships: “La Belle Rouge, the Holly Hamilton, and finally the always sea-worthy E T Waldron.” --- as well as the unsuccessful but brave acts of “Mr. Ed” (and others), and the belated but essential “boys” at Coast Guard station “AD”)
I was just day-sailing around the “Bay of Midi” when I saw her,
“Hey, I know that ship,” she’s the “La Belle Rouge” what a beauty, uh?
She was anchored today off of popular and erotic, “Romance Point”
How lovely, such azure, tropical & shallow shoaling waters, with a leeward blazing diamond shore studded with colorful flora…Umm, why am I doing what I’m planning? You came out to sell a few copies of your novel/romance adventure, historical fiction book (oh whatever it is) The Last Renaissance Man. Ya didn’t come out to sail a trackless sea looking for music & poetic recognition, did ya? You haven’t written a new song for almost seven years; and have you ever written a decent concise “poem”? Uh? Recently? Don’t be a fool; forget the plans about sailing the wine-dark, swirling waters of the musical sea of mp3 (or romance! – they have swallowed up many a man – especially an older guy – only kids can make it now, particularly if they don’t actually play any complicated instrument or songs. You gotta get rap or hip-hop--Just download some pre-formatted beats and forget your “Lady Piano.” She’s gone off—her muse.)
I felt a lump in my throat, as I thought of my plans to sail to far off MusicPublished Island, So distant from Midi Bay, to that “Farther Shore” in the deep waters of the
foreboding “Sea of mp3” – a terrible pang of longing tore into my heart;
to alter course now, and just anchor nearby (and have a cup of tea or a cocktail or two, maybe read some poetry– but no, a man’s gotta do what’s he gotta do –and live his dream! I’ve made up my mind: I’m sailing “Across the Sea of mp3” if
It’s the last thing I do (yes, eastward ho, to that Farther Shore! Bye Fair Ladies, I’m outward bound!)
Then a call: “Ahoy, ‘day-sailor’ “Michael G.” where ya bound?’
“Ahoy, ship ‘La Belle!’ {Oh just gonna take a little tryst out to the DigitalStream offshore, on mp3!} “What all by yourself in that raft? You crazy; get someone experienced on your team. Its usually safe, but I wouldn’t go in that little rig, that’s OK for sailing around Midi Bay, but that thing might keel over on the .wavs of mp3 – “
“Oh yea? Uh, but look at this weather – “it’s like a lake out here. No wind. I day-sail all the time. Besides, I checked with “the Stormspinner” this morning, she said there’s nothing brewing offshore (you know it’s been this Big High that caused the heat wave – nothing can get started – air too dry, my Skies too Blue. Well she did say there was a weak tropical wave headed towards Florida’s east coast (you know the Sea of mp3. It’s shallow a long ways out – have you ever seen any big .wav files out here?) I should be OK. “Well, you’re welcomed to anchor near my site, for tea and a nice read if you change your mind – gotta a nice volume of hot poetry you’ll love: called “Cherished”
No mam, I thank you but I’ve had this dream all my life (hey, that’s almost 30 years! – I mean that I’ve had the dream, I’m a little older than that!)
I’m sailing to MusicPublished Island – why I even found it on the web map – it’s full of Promise – and who knows I might make a few bucks - I expect some hardship (why I’ve had a lot already)”
“Personally, I think you’d do better heading “Westward” – you know, inland, towards Nashville. That’s how it’s usually done. I say that’s more your experience; why you heading east out to the mp3 Sea? – seems a tough sail for your skills.” What’s the name on the side of your raft—I mean boat; I can’t see the scribbling.”
‘The August Ocean Overture”
“Sounds sort of classical. You’re going to need a bigger boat.”
“It’s pretty big; it’s got classical & jazz & even new age in it. Even a solo piano country tune I wrote in Bb. It may not look big on the surface, but this sailboat has a huge keel that goes underwater quite away—why it goes back down for years! It’s not about money or being a big star, it’s about being heard, and a little recognition, after trying so hard for almost 30 years, I’m still unknown--either that or damn stupid.”
“Never depreciate yourself—it doesn’t sell. Try something bold, hot and romantic. Your so philosophical you know.”
“I know I’m not delusional though (how could I write clear grammatical sentences if I was?”)
“If you were… not was.”
“Is it? I’m never sure. I still have trouble mixing up “there & their”. Anyway, onward sail!”
“Well just be careful and turn back if it gets rough – I was to “Sail Away” this morning and I’ve got a much bigger, well-equipped boat than you’ve got! “You sure as hell can’t even get an agent to navigate out here with just one half-finished book aboard and a couple of songs and poems (let alone a publisher). Do you have any Life-Saving equipment? What if you go down?”
“I’ve got a ton of self-made CDs, small mp3s and .wav files – I just need some technological info. And experienced hands. But I’ll figure it out.
Oh, I also have GPS, and an Epirb, which floats and’ll send out a strong signal to the Coast Guard at station AD if there’s trouble.”
“Do you have a “safety vest, a .PFD they call it? They can be sent anywhere.”
“Let me look in my Den Storage—yea there’s one—see? And two other emergency upload files, in case I’m suddenly shorthanded to post something to an editor—just in case I go overboard.”
“That isn’t even a regulation vest for ocean going. That’s for like Kayaking or something. Pretty puny.”
“Oh yea? It’s something anyway.”
“Good luck”
“ – SO, bye, my fair lass, I’m outward bound.”
“Bye my Dear, if it gets windy & rough turn thy prow before the wind and “Sail Away,” “Westward home. Westward into the Sun! Across that Sea of Madness”
OK Thanks. my lovely friend, Farewell, La Belle.
(the equivalent of “cinematic shorthand” Well, I sort of hope anyway):
I sailed on... “a boat upon the Ocean, a ship (gradually becoming) lost at Sea..” Yes… “Across the Sea of mp3”. On past the shallow sandbars of uploading Word.doc files with their white sandy bottoms of text easily still visible in the gleaming August sun of Florida – past the simple click & post icons of graphic uploads of jumping jpg dolphin-like files: pics of the seashore, sunsets, design patterns – yes onto the unfathomed, and uncharted but mysterious dark waters of music uploading. Through the horrendous huge .wav files, the “crashing” .mp3’s and even strange fish I just saw off my port bow: .wma’s, racing around in schools, nipping at my boats stem & stern. Umm, they should work if I need to catch a few for lunch. I might fish for them.
Under the glasslike steely blue skies and the piercing tropical steamy heat of hurricane season, I sailed lost in my dreams (and without breakfast!) only accompanied by my steely will, and a couple of cups of coffee: then my “message board flashed”: Umm, “you have new messages-- why it’s from “the Stormspinner” –
“Hey Michael – “while your out enjoying “your Blue Skies” you should consider as I heard your sailing “Across the Sea of Madness” today – well you really shouldn’t go far offshore in hurricane season. You know you could get a sudden wind shift due to this big high suppressing the sea breeze. You know we haven’t had many thunderstorms lately here in Texas and you mention the same weather out there. That tropical wave is coming in for Thursday – no development predicted yet by NHC but upper-level winds could become more favorable over time!
You said you lived in the Ocala National Forest – sounds like you’re a landlubber like me – sail back home to your computer studio and mess with your files, just input your CDs and you can “rip” a few tracks off to mp3. Then save the files and upload them into your Den Storage…”
I fired a message back: “No, no Karla, I’m determined. I’ve brought the Lap-top, I’ll rip ‘em right here on the “Sea of mp3”
Just let me know if anything starts brewing – I can get my NOAA weather radio out here, but no Doppler-radar loops – I think I’m beyond range already. Amazing that the wireless works.”
“Ok, I’ll send you a short poetically encoded message on the weather, if that wave becomes a Tropical Depression.”
“Great, I’d appreciate it – send it to my email, not the message board, I don’t always see all the postings in the poetry column—their scrolling down fast and furious today—what’s up? Ummm—quite a few on the oceans and Sailing and Nature and stuff. Too bad I can’t read ‘em but I’m as far as I can get from shore on the Sea of mp3. In fact I can’t see the safe continent of “CD” anymore—nothing, even “Romance Point” is lost in a hot haze—“Larry Lounsbury Poetic State Park” around “Tree-Ring” point is gone, gee, I may never count those again—“clouds building overhead” too.” I wish I had his “Keyboard Navigator” with me now—not sure I know how to decipher the code though. I need Navigation help, and equipment! To think I thought I could get to MusicPublished Island with just a cheap boy-scout compass and a digital piano. I’ll have to break out the GPS. Keep me posted. -- LOL, michael guy.”
A boat upon the ocean....
A ship that’s lost at sea....
I sail a trackless sea.
(in search of you, in search of me)
Well anyway… now “I’m Sailing that trackless sea, (in search of you, (or basically anybody) hopefully searching to click on me.) Gee, the wind’s really coming up out of the west – from offshore to sea. That’s gonna blow me back out further. I’d better turn around. Hopefully the wind will shift east with the sea breeze today and blow me back to safer waters.
Like a gull upon a windy track,
I will sail this tack, / while I catch a wind to blow me back. /
But no, still west, and look at that seagull! He’s moving! With the wind—must be at least 12-16 knots (about 15mph). You damn fool and you had to come offshore. Didn’t ya check the NWS online weather page, to see the wind directions?
Put on the life-vest. I opened my damn Den Storage cabinet (about the 5th time today)—there were only three items—but they were huge. It’s jammed! All these huge music files. Better delete ‘em and try making some smaller mp3s that can hyperlink. Get the vest on, and put the radio on scanning for any marine band frequencies that are coming in.
Then my message board flashed: an emergency beacon from the “Mr. Ed” transmitter on land (west somewhere, maybe even Midwest—near the GreatLakes I think--wow, what a powerful beacon—he knows his stuff. I‘ve been to his bio, besides he’s used music files on his postings-- he’ll know what to do: and, he’s an outdoor type, boater, fisherman and an environmentalist, which I really respect. Then the beacon flashed: The signal came in loud & clear: “Michael G. come in, do you read? Michael G: thanks for the post on my poetic message earlier, glad to know you, I went to your posting and read your recent work—also about the music file to click on above your poem (about “Across the Sea of Madness” I’d love to hear your piano music, but I’m not getting any signal. Do you copy?”
“I copy kind sir. Hey glad to meet you—I’ve been to your bio but today’s the first day I’ve had a chance to click on your work. Wow, what a powerful Bio signal you send. You’ve done it all. That’s a powerful message needed out there. And a Godsend that you contacted me and said my .mp3 music isn’t being heard. Here, all along (I’ve had music links on my Bio page all week)—I thought people were hearing my music. Eee Gads! They’re not getting anything Uh? They must think I’m stupid or a big phony. This could ruin a career start so late in life.”
“Well, he said – people here upload midis and music all the time. But I keep getting a message saying I have to buy some kinda license or something to hear your file!”
“You’re kidding! I said. “So that’s it. I clicked on the Microsoft Media Player “Get License protection thing” when I made the mp3 – so that must be overriding any attempt to download. What a fool I am. I’ll have to redo the files. Thanks, you’re a real problem solver—you oughta run for President—I’d vote for you in a minute.”
He said, “No problem. Just let me know when you get it ta work—I want to hear your song! That poem don’t do much for me without your music. Good Luck!’
“Yea I know, it’s really a “Ladies poem.” I’m still single thanks to deciding to learn to play the piano at such a late start in life. Thanks anyway”
On I sailed. I was finally considering turning back to continent CD (it’s so much easier, just get addresses and mail people your music man! That’s the way we used to always do it.) And the hell with crossing the sea of mp3, and even giving up on reaching “MusicPublished Island” Besides I was reading Jules Verne’s “Mysterious Island” this summer – and I was beginning to fear, this island could be filled with predators, .surrounded with loan sharks (and corrupt music company executives), as well as possibly a huge crab or two on the beach. I’d hate to get devoured and nobody would even know what happened since I’m single and have few friends left in Florida (back on continent CD). If there wasn’t a huge crab there might at least be some pretty crabby, indifferent industry types and agents, who could personally give a shit and think anybody they’ve never heard about trying to start a music career at 40+ was a loony or a damn stupid failure. Why hell, I’d rather find the big crab on the shore of “Music….Island” -- had a good hunting knife aboard. I could kill and cook it, if I get shipwrecked, alone on the beach in a storm surge of adversity (and huge unpaid bills!) Just think of the size of those barbequed crab legs!
By now I had on my life vest on and had clipped the Epirb to it in case I went overboard (or in case my Den Storage jammed trying to load the huge .mp3 files and I had to re-boot the computer) But this is suppose to be a virtual sea of XP, it oughta handle this. Then again this is a writer’s site at AD, not CDbaby! You know you’re a “mixed up mess of a whole lotta things!”
Then a FAQ spilled out of the onboard printer (in my pilot’s cabin). The “Sea of mp3 Madness” was whipping up some serious .wav files coming from further out – “Just look at the size of those .wavs—they’re 6-10 megabyter’s. Even a 6mb will flood your Den Storage. [I better turn back while still under sail]. I won’t be able to hyperlink out to my poem page and get the Epirb to signal in my life-vest in time. And way out here at Sea, “who the hell is gonna hear me! My lonely mp3 piano files tinkling in the dark & stormy night (cliché but true !)
Then a message from “the Stormspinner”: something like this:
“glass blue is overdue to break,
“your sea that was a lake,
“is upswelling – that Tropical wave has begun to rave
NHC says it’s probably a TD (Recon plane to investigate tomorrow if necessary)
Head to shore, before you’re no more (on the Sea of mp3)
I suggest you get on the phone & hail SOS, mayday to AD!!”
Um, serious message: but concisely, nicely put—thanks “Ss” glad you got it thru. Got the word and I will DO! Heading back to shore. Huge .wavs, can’t get a good mp3 and I’ll just put out the Mayday, Mayday to AD” (Act now before you blow your opportunity)
And if one of those 10 megabyte .wavs crashes over the bow of my little “August Ocean Overture” boat, I’m done for. Why hell even the brass at “coast guard station AD” might not have a rescue plan for that one. I could even get chastised and sent further out into “The Sea of Madness” (I guess for breaking the navigational rules)
So I headed back> Across the ‘Sea of Madness’..... /
Across the gulf of pain,
The course of storms, wind, waves and rain” It’s time now let’s get on the marine radio and send an SOS to AD!
But: no response, the radio, blank! (I may be offline, you know those cheap service providers here in rural Florida!) Nope, I’m still connected, just nothing – I cached my marine radio – HELL, did you have to bring the handheld you jerk? – This thing’s batteries are shot. GREAT! I’m stuck out here drifting in a technological “storm of snafus” on the “Sea of MP3” and no way to use radio! It might as well be the 19th century.
I grabbed my GPS to get a position. USELESS! This thing don’t work—unless the satellite is malfunctioning above--this weather has turned! The batteries are weak. This couldn’t find me a decent .mp3 file to home in on and get me home to save my life. My chances to reach “Music…Island” are doomed without serious help—I kept sending out frantic messages anyway (exactly like that scene in the movie: “The Perfect Storm”)
“Mayday, Mayday—this is the very little sailing boat, “the Michael G.” SOS…
Seas are building: .wav files of at least 8 feet (I mean megabytes) My Den Storage is flooded; my computer radio data bus is jammed. I ‘m not sure if my hailing frequencies are open. “Is anybody out there? I’m about to “toss a message in a bottle” into this stupid sea of mp3,” I’m so desperate (my eyes tired, and I could use lunch!) But it’s useless, I only have INNERmessages! “Mayday, mayday, coast guard AD do you copy?” (and on and on while the .wavs built until finally a 9.7mb’r crashed over my bow and my Storage Den flooded out for good. The windows all broke in (gee’s you’d think this was back in Window’s 98!) What’s with the XP, -- maybe not enough RAM you only have 253 or 256 or whatever it is – you need DSL, maybe you can’t upload music files on a modem connection… “SOS Mayday, mayday…”! The message board was screaming help! (and so on)…
Then my board finally lit up: ‘‘you have new messages” Oh yea, who could it be now, I thought everybody I knew here at AD (who don’t have day jobs had clicked in.)
It was from continent CD (the land station near AD) They got my SOS, they have sent out the “Holly Hamilton,” a finely trimmed sailing vessel, slender but a real ‘true -running vessel’ that always sails a straight course. (I was lucky I had bought her book the other day – she’d been giving me a lot of posting attentions and may have even been “Tracking Me” since then. So she’d heard I was trying the dangerous waters of music mp3s and messing with posting songs in the poetry column instead of real poems. And the “Holly Hamilton” is always READY to sail for anyone in trouble. (I knew she had to be a good vessel) I had clicked on her Bio (great new photo by the way!) and she on me, since the first week here at AD. I was grateful, but could she help? Her ship was mostly built for near shore powering in the “bay of midi” (and small cruises with family). The message came through like this:
“I don’t know, I’m not receiving you clearly, actually I didn’t hear anything. I’ve never had much luck with the mp3 files myself, that’s why I never use music on my files. But some get results – I’ll have to sail back to port, just don’t carry enough fuel to reach you – your way out of the “Hamilton’s” cruising range. I’ll relay you SOS along to the most experienced “captain” in the AD fleet I can think of.”
I responded: “Gee, what a day I’ve had. It started out so calm and peaceful until I decided to day-sail on mp3 Sea. Now I’m looking east and I see actual “Feeder-bands” -- showers of distressful looking messages. Must be that TD brewing up. But thanks anyway.”
“Sure michael, KEEP the FAITH, you’ve got good talent and resolve. We’ll get you rescued. Good Luck, think of the Lord and use the prayerful power of Spirit.” I immediately calmed down – she has that positive effect on you – my hope restored I said a couple of lines of “the Lord’s prayer” (I always liked it anyway, good words to live by, and after all I am a “Catholic Boy”]
It was quite a wait and still no signals coming in on my marine band radio. But I left all hailing frequencies open.
In the growing wind, and now squalls spitting bytes of broken data, and light showers gradually becoming a heavy black rain of despair, I began to panic. The little (so promising) boat: the “AugustOceanOverture” was swamped but still afloat in a half-cocked way, but she was no longer under sail towards her goal (so what else is new, it’s been recorded for over a year except to add a few new pieces.) I was now so low in the water her gunwales were almost awash. The scuppers had been leaking all day and thought I had tried to pump out the bilge, my battery was dead. I was now hand-pumping my Storage Den – yes, tossing overboard anything useless in there – deleting old files, smashing links on every page and furiously pumping out any useless data, but still she was flooding with water. I was doomed. My Faith now was at Low Ebb, and I thought {“What a fool I’ve been – everyone’s gonna think I’m not only an idiot but a big hypocrite. And you had to go boasting today about sailing out on the Sea of mp3, and the fine music you’ve made – and just wait to hear this! Down your going down – and besides you’ve wasted these fine writers’ time. They BELIEVED in you, but no you had to go bragging offshore. How will you prove you even came this way if you’re drowned and forever Lost at Sea?)
“Why didn’t you just quietly post a few poems and your book and leave the music out of this. See, how difficult this is and always has been. Idiot. Fool!”
Now a horrendous squall of destructive gale-force and erroneous data blew in, pelting me with heavy precip. high megabyte .wavs and recriminations (maybe a few regrets too). I secured my vest, grabbed the Epirb and pulled the pin. I didn’t even know my coordinates: (I think they were 29.1N and about 79.9W, way offshore of Daytona Beach, but not sure. At least this transponder would constantly send out my homing beacon until it’s found. My little boat was just a remnant of my musical past jutting above this tropical storm driven sea—the mast now broken at the mid-point, my sails tattered, torn and useless. I prepared to jump over: If I can just keep the Epirb from breaking off and drifting away. I’ll be treading water till I succumb: ALONE! Surrounded by young sharks circling, my skin, lips, cracked, baking in the tropical sun. “Surrounded by water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink!”
Till I die of thirst or drown. -- Then:
My Wefax printer came to life, red lights blinking; thankfully the cockpit was still dry. I ran over and wilding thrashed at the machine and pulled out a sudden FAQ – no it was a message alert in my email to check the message board: from somebody at AD (not necessarily the staff) It read;
“We’re sending the biggest and best to your rescue – We got your coordinates, good thing you had that Epirb! We sent the big ship: E T Waldron – she’s been in service the longest (I think she was one of our first seaworthy vessels when AD started – whatever she was the First to “Cross the Sea of MP3” If she can’t find you – you really are doomed. Hang in there! Over and out…”
I danced with Joy; my lips cracked with blood as the first smile spread over my salt encrusted face and matted hair. Actually I didn’t dance but sort of sloshed to the gunwale and looked due west. Any signs of the E T? She usually will leave a big wake in her path. Still no signs and I was now waist up in seawater and bilge. But I knew I’d hear or see my rescue soon. Then the message board lit up like magic again: “Umm... still some power left I guess.”
It was from the captain of the “E T Waldron”– and one of AD’s most senior (oops!) and experienced captains and ships stationed. Actually, I passed the E T Waldron, on the way out (I thought she was in dry-dock, hadn’t see her post all week!) quickly while sailing out earlier on the “Bay of Midi” and heading out to sea. Thank god she contacted me.
I was overjoyed after reading her message. I screamed my message back to her board (why almost every sentence had one or two exclamation marks of gratitude!!) I even rashly promised to go to her site if I ever got back on dry land and read all her poetry! [well, all her new postings anyway—nobody could read all her poetry—that’s over 3000 postings!--But when a man is this grateful to be rescued (hopefully) when lost on the “Sea of (technological) Madness” you’ll promise just about anything! To be lost on a “trackless sea” with no wind to blow me back” In fact with a gale brewing to blow me the other way (so “Ss” says) is a desperate and lonely feeling—why hell, If one wasn’t getting so wet and so damn lost, I’d write a poem about it--(well someone could, but I’d need to make it at least a pretty long “short story” –
Message came through: “This is the E T, estimate ETA at about 5pm today! Will rendezvous with a search pattern focused on the current and wind from your transponding coordinates. Your drifting east with current. Meanwhile downloaded you some HTML data bit strings to get your system up and running, they should work even if power if low. It’s a loop code called a “music box” that looked something like this:
<a – src="http://www.authorsden.com/4750/forest.mid"hidden="false"border="0"width="310"height="45"autostart="true "autoplay="true " loop="true " volume="75%">
"Holy Mackerel!" what is this thing! (don't see any mackerel around though, but this is sure one strange Fish!) I guess I don't know as much about the web as I thought! I feel stupid!
E T: Michael, try this to upload into your system or page and if worse comes to worse (and you are sinking beneath the .wavs), just toss the “music box” in the "sea of mp3" and you’ll have to jump in after it and float on it, just like “Ishmael on his wooden casket in that last scene in Moby Dick” It will float at any cost.”
I responded: “Yea, thanks E T – in fact read Moby Dick just a few years ago – page for page, word for work (unabridged!) So you see I’m used to torture and adversity – just don’t like the idea of jumping in a wild, dark frothing sea.
I’m going down now – no time to upload this data string tonight – in fact all power dropped out just after her message posted and I retrieved the “music box” data string.
This was the big moment – no time to lose. I tossed the “box” and message in an empty folder, grabbed the Epirb, tightened my vest and with tears in my eyes and ghostly pale and shaking jumped into the ever-growing .wavs of the “Sea of mp3” My heart sank – but I didn’t. Luckily I’m sort of a water baby – been swimming all my life – so though exhausted: after all these years, “treading water” comes natural. I treaded, and treaded and thrashed about in the darkening and stormy afternoon – Then I saw her – a huge white wake made by thousands of “reviews & postings” probably hundreds of published and unpublished poems, essays, stories. And this wide-white wake gave me hope this time that the E T Waldron was on the horizon.
The captain tossed me a cable of good thick line, I wrapped it securely to my floating “coffin of a music box” (they called him “Ishmael” they’ll probably call me Michael mp3---still couldn’t figure out how the damn thing worked, but I felt better just hanging on to this thing.} I just knew that someday soon I’d be heard--
And like the good ship Rachel in Moby Dick, the E T Waldron searched the sea for her orphan son – but instead she found just another shipwrecked orphan floating afar upon the “Sea of MP3.”
The end.
[well actually it may not be the end, we’ll have to see about that! Why hell, now that dry land is in sight, I may even right a poem about it – a short poem!]
c. 2007, August 23, 2007, michael guy, all rights reserved.
