There was no tomorrow; we packed up all our sorrows and we saved them for a rainy day.

aI have no particular reason to quote Tom Waits right now other than that he's always worth quoting. That's Tom Waits, not Tom Jones, and though both have the distinct and different merits I don't think the wry, pithy, cynical wisdom of Tom Waits is really part of the appeal of Tom Jones.

Anyway... off track. That last post... well, funny how in moments of brow-furrowing funk you can read something like that and think it patently ridiculous. I guess you have to acknowledge that for such moments to exist they have to be shaded by their occassional opposite. I don't mean that to sound melancholy - but when those feelings have come along, lately, it helps that step upstairs and see a sight like this, big as life in front of me:That's off the coast of Capri, by the way. Damn.

Singular moments

There are singularly perfect moments, which you can only recognize after the fact, because to note them as they are happening will make them self-aware and lessen them instantly . I say “singularly” because these moments are apart from other things; you cannot judge them in context of surrounding life issues or events or problems. They are simple and honest and probably dull.

I realized few minutes ago, as I journeyed the nine or ten stories down to my cabin, that I just had one of those moments.

Mere hours ago (minutes fromt his writing, hours from when I'll get online to post this), I was sitting in the not-too-warm morning sun on the open top deck of a luxury liner anchored outside Sorrento, Italy reading a few chapters of “The Fourth Hand” by John Irving and drinking wonderful coffee in pleasant solitude. That’s my real, honest to God life, and sometimes I get a reminder that it d

Sorrento, Italy is a unique place, visually; especially seen from the sea. It’s one of my favorites and has a lot of happy memories for me. John Irving is probably my favorite author, and this book – while not my favorite – is really growing on me. Anyway, while there are conditions my mind can conjour that would make it “more perfect” or flaws I could identify in my overall life situation vis a vis my even being on this ship right now or my misuse of phrases like “vis a vis,” this was, I feel, a

Singularly Perfect Moment

…and who doesn’t need one?

Kryptonite, magic, and champagne headaches.

So, the other night, after Jamie and I spent a couple of weeks planning, bribing, buying, and a full day decorating the crew bar, we hosted the previously mentioned "Greatest Party In The History of Everything." Originally, this was just going to be a big party thrown by us with no real theme except that it was our party. On the posters, we told people to come dressed as their hero, because parties here seem to work best when people have to get into it to begin with. People took that to mean it would be a superhero party, and we just gave into that idea. Any idea we had in that direction, we did. See that picture above? That's a full-on Bat Signal at the edge of the dance floor, next to the DJ booth where I ran the music. It was attached to a spotlight and people could throw the signal all over the room. Next to this...
Was a four-foot tall ice sculpture of Superman. The flash doesn't do justice to the lighting we set up (with a good deal of help)... and we had a video projector silently running "Superman Returns" in a loop on the wall behind me, which was the opposite end of the dance floor from the Bat Signal. One end of the room we walled off into the "VIP Batcave" which contained couches, champagne, flowers, candles, and a 30-inch video feed of the rest of the party from a camera we mounted in the ceiling. Two other video projectors lit the room with crazy random music-following light shows from my laptop, and the bar was covered by this crazy skyline thing Jamie made. The walls were made into several giant comic book panels people could take pictures in, and a lot of people who never dress up for parties dressed for this one. Of course, the cast always dresses...

Jamie's hero? Ron Burgundy. He was going to be Batman, but good luck with that... so Ron it was. Below - Trey (from the lounge duo), Jamie and I pose for a picture early in the party, before I spilled champagne all over my S. The ultimate tribute? Two of the dancers in the cast came as... me and Jamie. They asked to borrow our pipes, and we didn't know why... we thought ... I don't know what we thought. I think they look just like us, don't you?
I don't have the right pictures to do justice to this party... but ask, and I have stories. Here's a view inside the VIP room. We got a LOT of good champagne, and though it is not my favorite I was responsible for guzzling a good bit of it. If you can't read the wall, it says "Don and Jamie welcome all of you to CLUB WESTERDON's VIP Lounge...especially the ladies..."

Giggity, giggity, giggity, goo, indeed. Yesterday, when we were both awake in our beds silently nursing champagne hangovers, we agreed that we had done well. Now, to avoid the crew bar for a good long while. Today was Sorrento, and more pangs of last year.

We, The Six-Star Luxury Cruisers; We, Who Save Lives.

Much has happened aboard the intrepid Seven Seas Voyager, led by her adventuresome Captain Dag Dvergastein with his motley band of miscreants and... several hundred of the world's wealthiest people. We have been to several different countries, held an unusual kind of bomb drill, been planning for The Greatest Party in the History of Everything, taken up pipe-smoking as a group affectation, and rescued a band of shipwrecked Algerian refugees. I also did my first full on, mainstage, headlining show... which is a real step in the right direction. More on that to come in a later entry.

Actually, right before I last wrote, we were in London for two days.

I hate posing for really touristy photos, especially those such as the above with Big Ben, or with the leaning tower of Pisa, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, or the Rily Byg Phallik Monument in Thailand. It makes one feel... oh, I don't know... somehow insignificant and... challenged. Anyway, we saved the touristy, see-the-sights stuff for day two. Day ONE was running around like mad, trying to see a show and enjoy Covent Garden.
That first night in London, we four singers went to see BLOOD BROTHERS. We settled on it because it's the "original" production, it's not a big corporate show that you can see just anywhere, it's particularly English, and Jamie and I have played the opposite brothers in productions in the US. It was very good, and I now realize the Narrator is the role to have.The next day, first thing, we toured the rebuilt Globe Theatre...
It was impressive. I have no words. It really lit my fire. Then, on to L'Orient, then Bordeaux, Santander, Vigo, Lisbon, Cadiz, Barcelona, and other places guaranteed to give me a bit of a twinge for last year. Then Nice. Today is Corsica, which is supposed to be beautiful. On the ship, we continued to pass time as best we could, with exhibitions of bare-knuckle Irish boxing.There was a party to send off the very popular Safety Officer, and all the guys in the cast wore our muster station vests. After the boxing match, things were much happier.

The fight was undecisive, and we remain friends. THEN... after Spain, and France... we rescued nine Algerian refugees who'd been adrift on an overturned Zodiac for three days on the Mediterranean. They'd set out with provisions and water and ten people. We found them with nine people and the clothes on their backs. I'll add a picture of this later.... Anyway, gotta run. Crew drill in ten minutes.

Spies In The Night

Last night, the travel concierge department (formerly "shore excursions", now even further fancy-schmancified to fit the Regentization of the line) hosted their crew party... James Bond Night. They had asked Jamie and I to be the "official" James Bonds for the night. We figured there would be many Bonds in attendance, but we were wrong... we were the Bonds. We definitely represented two very different aspects of 007... but the martinis did flow and we posed for a lots of pictures. As with all crew parties, the drinks were free. The tour ladies were behind the bar, each mixing a specialty martini of their own. Jamie's drink was poisoned by an agent of SPECTRE, but I think it was just a roofie.I learned one interesting thing last night, and some of you who remember Superman III will know what I mean: Gin is officially my red kryptonite. Hey... a big fat no-prize to the first person who can tell where the title of this post comes from... Next up, in a few weeks, Jamie and I have talked the crew welfare people into letting the two of us throw a crew party. Not our department, just us. Here's our "teaser" poster... we haven't quite nailed down a theme, except "hey, come to our party!"

Le Morte d'Irwin

Steve Irwin has been most sadly killed off
Australia's coast by the foul stingray's barb
His crikey call shall never 'gain be heard

Rest in peace, Crocodile Hunter.