Winter Stars in anticlimatic

I don’t believe in astrology, but I’ll be fucked if I didn’t feel the moon pull me right outside and down the sidewalk tonight. I had just returned from the grocer and had intended on settling in and relaxing, place to myself for the night, but some energy from somewhere gripped me and sent me out on a stroll. It’s that damp, just above freezing temperature, where everything is drips and mist. Sheets of ice shining under streetlights.

Above me the clouds parted, and even though I had left my glasses behind, and the cool air was rendering my vision a bit stiff and blurry, I could see the clear stars for the first time in I’m not sure how long. They’re never this clear in the summer, I swear- or maybe it’s the air that’s clearer, and it makes all else seem of a kind?

The stars moved above the blacks of the trees, and I felt a familiar overlay to time passed that I had beheld the stars in a similar way, in similar conditions, with a similar mind- and where the image used to be very clear and familiar, it felt more distant tonight. Half forgotten. I felt the sense, for the first time, that the road was erasing itself behind me. Can I live in a moment like that? Unmoored by memory’s chain of custody?

I think, rather, age has forced my disk space to exceed my ram. Too many memories, lives, experiences, incarnations- lifetimes, sagas, chapters, entire novels have occurred- I can no longer tabulate my experiences. I can no longer quantify them in a linear fashion. They are fragged beyond order. From someone who is obsessed with systems and meticulous organized detail, especially by way of preservation for posterity sake, this is a tough pill to swallow.

I need to get laid. If I can’t defrag my brain, I can at least empty the overflowing recycle bin.

Last updated November 23, 2022