I have just pulled into the marina at Brooklyn to re-fuel my boat. I've been to Jerusalem Bay and back three times since dawn. My guide, Bill Wisely, assures me that trolling between here and Jerusalem will eventually pay off with a silver hairtail or possibly a Waggafish, not knowing either of these fish I asked Tom at the Co Op what he knew about them. I was telling him back in Florida we spun for bluefish at dawn. Then a queer thing occurred - a man came of the cold room lamenting, wailing and coughing up blood and language. I caught a few words of his garbled monologue: ‘The zest, the shredded zest, my hand’s throbbing ... I’m going to ring Blodgett, it’s all fucked.’ The rest of it was gibberish. Then a man called Griffo came out of a shack and told me to contact you, he gave me this email address, and said I should ask if you have heard from Craig Powell? The navigator, Mintie, was looking rather green and needed attention, he’d been reading John Tranter under the Rail Bridge. Who are these people, and who goddamn it, is the Red K?
I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm sorry, but this means nothing to me.
I am house-minding for Anthony Lawrence who has been called away
(sound of a 1960's Mercury 15 hp outboard) on urgent business and won't be back
(canned laughter). I don't know who you are or what you want, but do not contact me
at this address again (Doberman's feeding). I have important work to do (whipcracks, weeping).