Fred For Your Head

Fredly's Blog

Fred For Your Head,, Fred Reiss.


Fresh Fish: or How To Avoid The Hook of the Dreamless

As I lied in bed and felt the cool uplifting air stream of approaching spring-summer and the early lightness. I remember getting up early years ago to fish for trout. I always let whatever bait I had bump along the bottom and always to set the hook so the fish wouldn't swallow it down to his stomach. Give them a chance. Then down on the bank, and overweight, bearded, glum and flat-eyed man was fishing with a red-and-white bobber. He didn't try to set as hook, he'd wait until the bobber turned from floating sideways to upright its whiter side and sunk down into the water and the fish had swallowed the bait. His rod was heavy-duty deep-seat rod and so was his 15-pound test line--way out of proportion to the weight of the fish) and then he horsed his line in painfully dragging the fish towards him. The half-pound trout never had a chance. I could see the landed trout has the line way down in his gut and blunt angler yanked and tugged on it, pulling the fishes guts out of its mouth to get his stupid hook.

Thinking back on the stocked reflecting pool swirling with a few hard-to-catch native visions and elusive memories and hopes, I was fishing for sport and he might have been fishing for food. But their was a cruelty in his hunger. And I thought how some people act that way to earn a living, or even do comedy--no nuance, vulgar, no style, but getting what they want. I've never had that in me--in a been done to me a couple times, but I'd never do it to anyone else, and I've come up short in the hook-line-and-sinker ambition category, but came up long in. Those people are the dreamless enemy, and they eat and take what they want. I have no appetite for them. In a way, they wind up fishing for each other's bait and don't realize it. Me I'd rather leave a little hungry, and let whatever I was just to get swim away. For I know dreams jump, and shake a hook--and I learned from that. They always dangle their spangled and numbed hook of an appealing subterfuge intertwined with a surrender to swallow their way of living and to look at others the same float-earthed gulp--just consume, just consume.

Fred Reiss