Another work week begins and a dreary one at that. Overcast and chilly. Just so New England!

One of those February days when Spring seems so far away and Summer never in reach. A day for somber reflection and speculation of what may lie ahead.

"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation." - Opening paragraph of MOBY DICK by Herman Melville

Don't mind me, I sometimes think that I was born into the wrong era. I've just finished listening to an audiobook, "DEMON OF THE WATERS". The book tells of the whaling ship The Globe and a mutiny which, may or maynot, have influenced some of Melville's novel. I don't know what it is that fascinates me about that particular period in our nation's history, but I often find myself reading tales (fiction and non-fiction) about the events that occurred and the people who lived in that time.

What is there about literature (good or bad) that can capture our minds and transport us to some other reality? A film, no matter, how good, can never entirely surround you and allow you to 'experience' another life. Even the best film will have moments that release you and remind you that you are apart from the characters. Literature holds you and doesn't release you until you purposely pull yourself away.

*sigh*