I watched this last night, in the middle of the night. The moon was a white hard pearl, and the shadow of the earth crept across it. There was so much fog rolling in and out that it was obscured as the shadow slid.
For three hours I watched. It was one of those things that is a celestial event — the kind of thing that stuns, like I felt when I saw the well worn steps at Notre Dame cathedral many years ago.
It was like a golden egg.
It was like an egg inside an ovary that men killed.
I looked up and I thought, “Peace.”
Could this be a time for peace all over the world?
What would it take?
This was a kind of holy thing that the ancients looked up at, when the ancients had nothing but time to build beautiful works of art, when people considered stars in the night sky or planets.
We aren’t in that world.
That world existed for thousands of years. Thousands.
Until men decided they could kill the eggs of all the women on the planet.
This happened in my generation.
There isn’t anything left. For days I have looked at the news, and thought about the news, and thought about the bees dying globally due to the gmo seed nightmare. They say we will have four years when the bees go.
Man built a robobee. Man built a robotic sex doll that he could just jack off into.
That is the future.
It’s Spring. I’ve only seen one bee. I saw a butterfly a few months ago that didn’t migrate as it should have. A Monarch.
I watched something about all the nuclear explosions since 1945. It’s a film made by someone Japanese that you should watch.
I started to cry after I watched it the first time. But now I’m just numb. I realize that I lived in a fallout zone, because I can see the map of the dust.
Maybe it’s best I never got to have a child.
I wanted to. I wanted to be like my mother and my grandmother, and I wanted to marry.
The men didn’t want to be fathers.
The first man threw me down a staircase.
The second one shrugged and said “Now what?”
The third said “Fuck it.”
The fourth bought a motorcycle instead of trying to reverse the vasectomy.
I look at the statistics on autism that are now something like one in 88 all over the world. There is nothing left for anyone. Only war. Only hell.
Love left the planet. It might have been during WW1, and most definitely in WW2.
We will be known as the people of the dust, under a golden moon that hung like an orb in the sky on a night when the world was still and the stars blinked in the Land of Nod as if everything was sleeping and well.
When I married I wanted a baby so badly it hurt. I had to work on the first boxes like this one — the boxes that were said to emit radiation and I kept saying, “Please let me quit.”
And he said no.
Maybe that is why. I was too afraid.
But you as men should ask yourselves this?
What have you ever done to make anything safe or good for the women on this planet?
The answer to this is NOTHING.
Perhaps you might rethink what you are doing to the foodchain, and the bees, and the anima mundi before it dies.
You fucked with God, or your notion of God.
Man invented the gods. So you, little man, who made god in the image of yourself?
That I ever even loved one of you is a very great mystery to me.