as i’m writing this, the moon is eclipsing. f’real. the greatest show on earth tonight, and i’m watching it from my front steps.
as the moon gets covered, i find my mind spilling. what can i say, i’m a sucker for melodrama, synchronicity, cycles.
i haven’t blogged in a while. haven’t really been writing in a while. since i’ve been gone, i’ve turned 31.
been pretty good mainly, but catching myself these days on the cusp. figured out a pattern for Darkness, and it’s not moon-related.
fear. fear is the little death that brings obliteration. somewhat related to la petite morte. rhetoric is never coincidental*.
the absence of control. can’t stand it. and i swear, if one more person tells me to be in the moment. i can’t time travel, but i have a new theory, came up with it today. time stops inside snow globes. now to move into one, a la coraline’s parents, frozen, trapped.
i could do with an escape, a somewhere-not-here, sometime-not-now.
i’m writing this in shifts, in between watching the eclipse. tomorrow’s the shortest day of the year. i like omens, in a trivial entertaining way. selective in where i find auspiciousness.
flow – “austerity” keeps on coming up, wants to be word of the year. i don’t like the restrictions it imposes, but control and restraint are lessons i need to learn. it’s time to choose something character-building, although i remember how difficult and challenging integrity was.
lovers, i know you’re watching the moon too.
i shouldn’t know what this looks like. i’ve never seen a full lunar eclipse before. but it’s bizarre in its familiarity. my 21st century self is angry at the technology that makes this look like a special effect. it’s so distant, so silent. i thought i would be able to touch it.
years ago, i wrote a piece about the death of the sublime. how we define our humanity in relationship to that which is bigger than it. fear isn’t the mindkiller, the media is. where’s the classical music soundtrack? symphony of the planets. indeed.
my girl is visiting, she’s been living on a tropical island. she has people back there, and i’m wondering if she’s watching this, wondering how they are. i’d be worrying. i’d be feeling alone, alien.
my dark body is studded with silver. hard metal interrupts soft flesh. i want to hear my synapses.
today i wore/saw/touched gold(en).
something old new nothing borrowed everything blue.
fabricated a little stability. i’m retreating into my head. it’s not that safe there anymore. i’m going back outside.
hot water rituals. i wonder what the moon smells like. i imagine it smells like unrequited love. i’ll never go there. that makes me sadder. thank god i’m a writer. quamdiu se bene gesserit.
ha! the last time i blogged, i wrote about the moon too.
ending here. not the witnessing of the eclipse, but the writing.
*Words matter (become matter). – Saul Williams