Call me Herm. Yeah, I died in 1891, but, thanks to my new wireless card, am able to blog now.

My Photo

I am an American author, best-known for my novels of the sea and my masterpiece MOBY-DICK (1851), a whaling adventure dedicated to Nathaniel Hawthorne. "I have written a wicked book and feel as spotless as the lamb," I wrote to Hawthorne. The work was only recognized as a masterpiece 30 years after my death. TYPEE (1846), a fictionalized travel narrative, was my most popular book during my lifetime. As noted above, I currently am deceased. Recently, however, we got wireless.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Nat Hawthorne's Stag Party

Shipmates, all that discretion permits me to share is that it took place in 1842 in a Boston alehouse, it was the first time any of us had seen porridge wrestling, and—unrelated, to be sure—it was the night he got the idea for The Scarlet Letter.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Bills Mounting, I Take A Job

Not long before I died, in 1891, I let some storage space in a facility in the West 20s in New York City. Shipmates, some advice: If you start a blog 100-or-so years after your demise, do so, like everyone else, under a pseudonym. Why? Otherwise your creditors will come after you.

Owing 1380 months of storage space rental—and the current monthly rate is about twice the value of my estate—I was forced to scour the Help Wanteds. Luckily I've found employment. I began the other day a freelance, telecommunting basis (it's difficult for me to go to the office as I no longer have a body) with a mid-sized advertisting agency, the client a pet food manufacturer.

The boss tells me writing an ad is just like a novel—a compelling story with a beginning, middle and end—except instead of a character, your hero is a car or packaged good.

Shipmates, meet my new hero:
I just need a headline now, and would be glad of any assistance, shipmates. All I've come up with so far is CALL ME FISHMEAL. Have a feeling I've heard that somewhere before though.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Death: Not As Bad As You'd Think

A number of you have asked me what heaven is like. I guess it was on my mind too when I was where you are. I mentioned heaven thirty-nine times in ’Dick.

I can tell you that it looks remarkably like the city of Providence, Rhode Island, with better public transportation. Perhaps therein lies, somehow, the derivation of "providence." The thing that surprised me the most: the Popeye's Fried Chicken chain has several restaurants here.

Beyond that, I really shouldn't tell you. My doing so would be a bit like a man revealing to a woman what really goes on at bachelor parties.

Have a pleasant evening.

P.S. Remind me to tell you about Hawthorne's stag night one of these days.