In which the captain introduces this thing.
The sea is the beginning and the end. Much comes from it (hurricanes, oxygen, us) and much goes back into it (towns, trash, us), and our fascination with it pervades popular culture. I might think Swiss Family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, and Robert Lewis Stevenson. You might think Pirates of the Caribbean, Pirates of Penzance, and the Dread Pirate Roberts. But regardless, we're all thinking it: lots gets lost at sea.
If LOST were a ship, we'd have been comfortable on our sea legs after these six months. But settling in on the high seas is never smart – there's icebergs ahead, and cockroaches in the hold, and perfect storms and the Bermuda Triangle, for chrissake. So for this issue we dropped a dinghy and paddled away from what we knew.
Out here on the seven seas, we've caught four fresh short stories, one nice looking poem, five lively essays, and a big bit of memoir. The water's been choppy, but we reeled them in and have been saving them for as long as we could. But we're hungry now, and it's time to dig in; there's little else to look forward to, and the days are getting longer and hotter, and we've got a lot to digest before it goes bad.
So dig in with us, keep staying afloat, and don't let the sharks bite. We'll be spending our last moments eating lemons, daydreaming about desert islands, and drinking. We'll be falling through the ice, catching fish, and lamenting sinking ferries and stolen breaths. We'll be loving, losing, and lonely, and at least we'll be that way together.
And if you don't hear word from us for a couple of months, don't be surprised; the winds are picking up and the current's strong, and if we can catch a few more stories, we'll be tucking in with you again this September. Argh.
– The Captain, June 2006
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