What About The Mutiny?

This last summer was defined by The Mutiny described by The Prophet Melville in Chapter 52 of 'Moby Dick'.



It is a thread of thought, of philosophy that I began exploring with my good friend Rick Reeve, ten years ago (see www.libbyhome.blogspot.com). It is a thread I dropped when I left Mystic, CT in July, 2005. It is a thread I picked up when I returned to Mystic last April.



The Mutiny must be, more fully, more explicitly brought into the world.



The Prophet Melville, throughout his tortured life, was riven by the spiritual/artistic need to bring The Mutiny into the world, to overthrow the tables in the whore house of the business-as-usual, (b-a-u) and the pressure to be pinned into conventional circumstances, to be a whore in the whore house of the b-a-u.



It is a struggle that all, to some extent, must engage. On Melville's sacred mountain, in Pittsfield, MA (where Melville wrote 'Moby Dick') I more fully felt his struggle.



'Moby Dick' was meant to bring a mutinous, revolutionary, heretical transformation of the world. The Steelkilt Mutiny is the clearest description of this. It is as clear as Melville felt he could make it and still have a novel that would be publishable, with some potential of making money in the marketplace of ideas of Melville's time.



When I returned to Mystic I picked up the thread of The Mutiny. I tried, again, to bring it to the attention of The Mystic Seaport - which lamely seeks to evoke the Great, White Myth of The Prophet. I tried to bring it to the attention of the b-a-u, the local theatre establishment.



It all was rebuffed.



I persisted.



I heard something in my inner ear.



It was revolutionary, mutinous, heretical drum rocking the streets of Mystic, New London. It was the Dioynesian rock that a theatre production could be potentially built on.



I knew IT could not be forced. IT had to take on a life of ITz own.



IT did.



Spontanously, naturally there were all these green lights which allowed 'Mutiny Drum', to play New London's Sail Fest.



The streets of New London were rocked with revolutionary, mutinous, heretical drum. Some revolutionary, mutinous, heretical word with a rhetorical beat was screamed was pounded on the late Saturday night of the festival (It had to be screamed. It had to be pounded. No access was given to a sound system).



IT was heard.



And then IT was minimized, marginalized.



Most thought I should be taking medications.



And when 'Mutiny Drum' was leaving, it was shouted from the roof-tops (I think I know by whom) - "Sam Libby must die!"



And so I must, as we all must.



We must die to our little, grasping b-a-u selves to come into our Greater Being.



I now know what I must do.



I must make The Mutiny into a screenplay - into The Movie.



It must incorporate that revolutionary, mutinous, heretical beat that I heard in my inner ear, that rocked the streets of New London.



And The Mutiny continues....