Fall, 2018.

The cold brush of fall is fully here now, and there’s a wind too. When you think that there’s no movement and only then you’ll feel warmth from the sun, that’s when you know. Maybe I should stop moving too, maybe then I’ll know what my blood flows like again.

How long has it been now? I’ve been trying to avoid all forms of time—averting my gaze when I see a storage unit company blasting the date, temperature, and a quote that they hope will make me forget all of our terrible little lives; or going into a gas station and hearing the latest terrible news that none of us have any control over;

or even just this damn changing of seasons, I could count with that—how many seasons has it been? What exact color was that leaf? Had the first rain come yet? I like seasons better though, they pass more slowly. It doesn’t seem as frantic as counting each second. Oh I’m still in fall, I can still relish in this for months if I really wanted to.

You need to live in a good place that has all four seasons. I can’t imagine living in the arctic where in the winter the snow is hard and in the summer it turns to sponge. Their season is nonexistent, so they have to go back to counting each rotation of the sun, each day, as it comes back less and less frequently, until finally there’s no movement.


Does anyone know what phase the moon is in now, speaking of which? Once when I was younger I tried to get into it, tried so desperately to be spiritual, to be connected to everything. But then I learned that everything dies and that terrified me. I never remembered to look up at the moon or pull my cards though, for fear that they would tell me ‘why bother your time is coming anyways’. I wonder what the moon thinks, trying to caress the ocean but being thousands of miles away from her.

What if one day, slowly of course so that it wasn’t actually in one day—but the moon is slow and old so one day for us may feel like only a second for her—what if one day humans destroyed everything beyond repair. The temperatures would rise, hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, all because of us, and then suddenly the ocean would rise up to finally kiss the moon.

Would the ocean spill over the earth? Would the moon be bathed in her waters? What if those politicians and businessmen were really just trying to bring them together, the most ironic savior of us all. When I drown, I hope I become consumed by the moon.