Dope

Limited Inc and a friend spent some time by a highway last night, looking at the moon. It was a moon well worth looking at.

"Well," our readers comment, jejeune to the point of jaundice, "a moon's a moon's a moon, right? Excuse me, but once we sent a few retread fighter pilot types up there and line drived a few golf balls, that was it with the moon thing. Like, boring, lifeless, dusty, full of craters, and there goes ten billion dollars."

Yes to all of the above. The moon is certainly a de-mystified object, it is certainly the victim of a sort of cultural pollution -- there's no awe in us anymore about it, there's a false sense that we've peed on it, that now the territory is claimed -- but Limited Inc loses all skepticism in the ghostly white shimmer of it, feels that there is definitely a werewolf pull to the moon, some obscure but distinct disturbance in the blood, some ritual passage negotiated between eros and thanatos that eludes cynical dismissal. We've seen the moon in the dark hollow of the New Mexico country night, when darkness seemed more absolute than civilization, and the moon kept spreading out, visibly becoming enormous above the mesas, fantastically hatched there in the bright glare of constellations, its interstellar closeness -- because in solar system terms, the moon isn't that far away from us -- finally comprehensible to the senses, and a bit terrible.

Of course, we've also seen, with the inattention of the urbanite, the moon as a mere shell, or the moon as a mere sign -- there it is again above the freeway, there it is again above the parking lot. Last night we pursuaded a friend to go out with us and salute it with glasses of vodka. The night got cold, the cars going by were rare, and probably a few of the drivers wondered who the hell the lunatics were, sitting there raising glasses to the moon. My friend had a few things she wanted to say to the moon, and so did Limited Inc. Finally it got cold enough that we were shivering and it was making less sense to sit there on the concrete post among the rustling brown grass. So we left. But we left with some faint lunar afterimage inside us, which I hope both assuages the terrible gods of this year, and portends something powerful for next year. And to hell with it if we didn't time it directly on New Years Eve.