it's almost there...

the "sick room" is looking a little brighter... i'd love to paint, but that involves more of the dread "royal we," meaning that fred would have to do all the work.

© 2013 L. Ryan

Definition of the Moon

I've never dared to second-guess the choices by Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and William Anders of Apollo 8, the first space mission to leave Mother Earth and travel to another planet, our moon.

They were the first to see Earth alone, and entire.

On December 24, 1968, they broadcast this message as they circled the moon for the ninth time -- the first ten verses of the Biblical Book of Genesis, using the King James translation.

William Anders:

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.
And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.
And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.

Jim Lovell:

And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.
And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so.
And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day.

Frank Borman:

And God said, Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so.
And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good.

I found this photo on a woman's defunct blog, and just as it has no attribution here, it had none there either. She did say something, though, about it being her "definition of the moon." Or perhaps it was "my picture of the moon."   I cannot recall.

But in some moments spent failing dreadfully at mindfulness meant to squash severe physical pain and the ever-present specter of psychic torture, I found myself ripped in two -- between the men on their ninth rotation 'round the moon and this woman's chosen photo, unattributed, that reflected her understanding of that orb.

Yeah, yeah, yeah:  perspective.

Still, I ask you:  What would you choose?  Or, if you break out in a rash at open-ended essays, what would you have chosen to say to an Earth audience on December 24, 1968 (the date begging so many questions as to require medical marijuana)?  If you cannot speak, and now, thanks to that thought, I'll be thinking of the many ways in which my readers may have lost their speech, from force of will to tongue slashing -- If you cannot speak, refer me to the photo of your choice.  Unless you have no use of limbs, and nothing directable by eye movement or the witty manipulation of a straw.

"I know it's bad, kid. I got your back, kid."

What some teachers wish they could rap, if they could rap, in those hazy, hasty last moments with their Starbucks, before homeroom bell and the influx of the usual:

Bo Burnham:  Nerds

I'm a faggot, I'm a retard, I got a girl's bag, and a V-card.
I got three friends and a whack ass ride, you can judge by the cover 'cause it's shitty on the inside.
No girls wanna fuck me, trust me.
I don't give a fuck, don't adjust me, just please shut your face hole for just one second.
"Fuck you faggot, you're so fucking dumb."
Dumb, I'm the dumb one?
Calm down, Bo, just count to ten.
One, two, three, whore-I mean four-shit, three, four, five, bitch-I mean six-shit.
I quit, I got no patience, you won, I'll face it.
Your life peaks at graduation, well, congratu-fucking-lations.

Nerds, the faggots, the spastic fat chicks who sit in the back with no one to do their lab with, the kid with acne and tons of Proactive packed inside his backpack.
I got your back, kid.

Do you know why, kid, I can rap so mean?
I was reading while you were fucking the prom queen.
Huddled up reading, no lacrosse team.
"Huddle up, huddle up"
What? You lost me.
Sorry, bro, did I interrupt the circle of jerks all circle jerking?
I need savin'? No, fuck no.
Quote the raven? No, fuck Poe.
Ah, shit, I'm bitchin, listenin'.

They don't know what they're missing.
For instance, I like poetry, I like instruments.
Maybe we have similar interests?
It's no fall balls, no balls fall.
Sit and scrawl on the stall walls.
At three p.m., I pause.
That shit sounds like applause.

Nerds, the faggots, the spastic fat chicks who sit in the back with no one to do their lab with, the kid with acne and tons of Proactive packed inside his backpack.
I got your back, kid.

Nerds, the faggots, the spastic fat chicks who sit in the back with no one to do their lab with, the kid with acne and tons of Proactive packed inside his backpack.
I got your back, kid.

She stood in line and got cut.
Tried out, got cut.
Loved art, but the budget got cut.
Then, she got numb, and she only felt when she knelt and cut.

Nerds, the faggots, the spastic fat chicks who sit in the back with no one to do their lab with, the kid with acne and tons of Proactive packed inside his backpack.
I got your back, kid.

I know it's bad, kid.
I got your back, kid.