The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche declared, “All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.”
The old man was walking and thinking. He thought Melville was wrong about a porpoise being a whale and a whale being a fish. Ignorance is the parent of fear, Melville wrote. And the old man immediately thought of the Presidential campaign. And he let out a scream. Didn’t care who heard him. Whole neighborhood was already basically scared to death. Which is how he liked it.
He noticed he was faster on days after temperance and slower as the week moved on. By Friday he was often reduced to an hour on the spinbike. Watched a movie which starred Courtney Love as the wife Bill Burroughs shot in the head. And got away with it.
The old man had long admired Burroughs. Portrait of Bill hung in his entryway. They’d shared some cognac at the Benson Hotel in Portland in the late Eighties. The old man didn’t admit this much, but he had long wished he was a trust-fund baby. And he was a big fan of Naked Lunch. If you can manage your craziness so it becomes art, you are doing something.
Was he tired? Was he sick? Was he simply old? Did it matter??
Sure. Tired, you can rest. Sick, there may be a cure. Old, you are as young as you are ever going to be.
Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian. That’s some good advice right there, I don’t care who you are.
Then they attacked. Two chunky middle-aged blondes from Long Island and a young realtor desperate for a sale. Excuse me, sir.
No, fuck, excuse me.
I am out here listening to Moby Dick and trying to maintain a fifteen minute per mile pace for an hour and a half in this heat and you want me to stop and tell you about the neighborhood. Are you crazy?
Stop the watch, stop the book, remove the Bob Marley Little Bird earbuds.
What?
These ladies were wondering about the neighborhood.
Save yourself before it’s too late.