Last night I saw the full moon rise behind the clouds and I felt the nape of my neck go all crawly. Just in time for Friday the 13th, with Mercury in retrograde. Me, I don't believe in astrology but maybe I'm just not thinking straight because of Mercury. Things have been a little off for a little while now. This place takes some getting used to.
I don't know when ... ah, bullshit. I know the exact moment when it happened, when everything tipped and twirled and my life went deliciously sideways. You never forget your first time, and that was mine.
You'll pardon me for not getting up. There are refreshing beverages in the fridge and I think maybe some gum and mints in the cabinet to the right of the sink. Oh, and some hot chocolate and tea. Would you like a spot of tea? I don't have a kettle but the microwave works just fine.
Sorry there isn't a lot to eat. I used to be better at keeping tabs on that shit. Better at a lot of things, actually, and yes, that's what she said. Not to say I still can't rock it harder than most people, but I'm trying to be more responsible these days because, you know, 53. All kinds of things can go wrong. I'm not ready to become a ghost in my own machine. Especially now that I've become somewhat accustomed to the curious ways of this sideways world.
The learning has come with time. So has the clarity, and the acceptance. I'm three years out (in) now, and the world remains off (on) its axis. All available data indicate an irrevocable change. All experiments aimed at reversing the shift have been met by disaster. Every escape attempt has failed. There is no use in trying to return to my old world. I probably wouldn't recognize most of the landmarks. Things change so fast these days, you know?
I had to learn how much I didn't know about this place. You know me — reporter, always trying to figure out what up. I used a lot of energy trying to determine why this happened and what it meant, blah blah blah. Asked too many fucking questions and got my ass handed to me because of it. No matter the universe, people don't like inquisitive punks.
Didn't matter, anyway. I eventually figured out the answers to my two burning questions. Why did it happen? Because. What did it mean? I don't know. End of story.
I really meant it when I said I don't believe in astrology. Cassius preached it to Brutus: don't blame the stars; blame yourself for thinking you're a slave. It really is all in the way you look at things. For a long time I've been a slave to the twirl. I just didn't accept it till now.
Back when I was trying to fight it I was all adrenal, glitter-eyed and juking to find a way out. It'll wear a boy slick. I've burned out the fight in me and I'm better now, I think. Even a few weeks ago, if I'd have seen the full moon through the clouds I would have screamed. Now it's just shivers up my spine. That's progress.
I know the lesson is supposed to be that I'm not a slave. But even Cassius was cautious: men are only "some time" the masters of their fate.
I fought the truth but now I accept it: I'm on this plain (mmm-mmm). I can't complain. I could do with less humidity and a little more sunshine, but that's niggling.
This is an interesting place. I visited a bookstore today to look for words that might rouse me from what feels like an unyielding slumber. Rick Springfield was identified as "New York Times Bestselling Author" on the cover of his new novel. A woman buttonholed a Barnes & Noble clerk to alert him to the fact she was looking for Moby Dick.
I didn't find the book to wake me up.