Red moon, white moonWhat I found interesting is that the red moon looked like a ball, but the white new moon looks like a disc.
Zenella is more interested in reading about space than she is in experiencing it. I suppose that an eclipse just happens too slowly for a child, and I could not communicate why it struck me. Mrs Zen was not interested at all. She prefers ground level.
I cannot say she is wrong to feel that, because I often think that life would be better if I didn't lose my head in thinking about space and our place in it, in dreams that are insubstantial and pointless.
You know, the moon circles the earth at 2300 miles an hour and both circle the sun at about 60 thousand miles an hour.
I can walk at 4 miles an hour. It would take me more than 58 thousand hours to walk to the moon, were it possible. Nearly seven years.
Sometimes I regret having had children. I can't help thinking of the pain they will suffer in this life. Yes, I know there are compensations. But also life will end, and I have condemned them to that.
"Regret" is not the right word, but I don't know a better one. "Regret" implies that I do not want them, and that is never true. In that sense, I never regret them for an instant, and I am sure that I never will.
I still believe in magic. You'd think you'd grow out of it, but I never have.
I dream that I will wake up tomorrow and be really good at poker, so good that I become free. It's just a lottery dream, a reach for the moon dream.
It's not real.
But real is a drag sometimes, don't you find? Even deeply cynical realists have to dream; there has to be a moon to reach for.
And when you have it, sitting in the palm of your hand, and the blazing disc that you thought you would have is nothing but a rubbery red ball.
But imagine. Just imagine. That when you reach out to grab a rubbery red ball, you have been fooled by an optical illusion, and what you have is a blazing sun, wonderful to hold.
Maybe they will live forever. Maybe we all will. Maybe I have been wrong about everything, except for love. I will never believe I am wrong about that, because without it, we are no more than apes tortured with the ability to think about our own demise, and how fucking bad would that feel?