Ticket to the Moon

Today's Pick:

Produced by Tom Hanks for HBO in 1998, this series follows the history of America's moon missions, playing like an extended version of The Right Stuff and Apollo 13, from Kennedy's vow to reach the moon before the end of the decade, right through to the end of the program. One character remarks, "We stopped going up just when we were getting really good at it." (This was my Father's Day gift this year. Highly recommended.)

Today's Music: Ticket to the Moon (ELO)
"Remember the good old 1980s? When things were so uncomplicated? I wish I could go back there again, and everything would be the same....I got a ticket to the moon..."

I'm thinking about the moon because the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 landing will be July 20. I can remember watching it on our TV in Century, and hearing my Papo talking about how it couldn't be real, because such a thing would make the moon turn to blood and be a sign of the endtimes. (Although, admitedly, I can't be sure that's exactly right. But I recall looking up at the moon and wondering what he meant by that.)

The splash down was on my fifth birthday, July 24, 1969.

"...Fly! Fly! Through a troubled sky, up to a new world, shining bright, whoa-whoa!..."

Here's a repost from part of my "366 Days" project -- chapter 27 from my novella, "The Traveler," in which Cain imagines a parallel reality where he and Gabriel (who has forgotten he's an angel) are astronauts on the moon:

From the Book of Cain:

There is a medieval legend that I wandered the earth until, one day, having walked every part of the land and having nowhere left to go, I went to the moon. There, in that barren place, I finally settled, having only the bundle of twigs I had carried with me.

I never went to the moon. The fact that I have to tell you this is a sign of the wonders you have seen. That you could believe such an incredible thing might have happened? You have witnessed strange things indeed.

But let’s say that I lived into the 1960s. And let’s suppose that I worked my way into the space program. Is it impossible that, among my many personae that I have adopted over the ages, I might have become an Air Force pilot and then an astronaut? And that, one day in the early 1970s, a few trips into the moon missions (I will not reveal which one), I set foot on the lunar dust and planted seeds in the powdery surface.

I only wish my gift had been returned to me before that time, just to see if the moon could have yielded to the blessing of the creator and given forth fruit in abundance.

And as I stood there and looked across the void at the little orb on which I had been born, you stood there beside me. An angel without wings, without even the memory of wings, but who had found a way to break the bonds of earth and soar again among the stars.

And I knew who you were, even if you did not. I turned to you. I asked you a question.

"Do you believe in God?"

You didn’t answer right away, and I thought perhaps you pretended not to hear. I didn’t repeat the question.

"I believe in that," you said, and pointed at the earth.

"What you can see?"

You kicked up some moondust, and you grunted. "I can’t see gravity," you said, "but I’d be stupid to say it didn’t exist. And yet, I also long to defy it."

I thought about that, and I asked, "Given the chance to defy God, would you do so?"

You didn‘t hesitate: "If I thought I was right."

And that’s when I decided you wouldn’t have an unfortunate accident there on the moon. That’s when I knew you had been a good choice for the mission Shekinah had in mind. You were the hand of God, but when you stood with God against Lucifer in the time before time, it was because it was the right thing to do, not because of blind devotion or a lack of free will.

And you would stand against God for the right reasons. You would stay his hand if need be.

I only wished you would recall our time on the moon when next we met. What things we might talk of then!

I held up my gloved hand and pretended to squeeze the distant planet between my fingers.

"It’s like a big, ripe tomato," I said.

"It’s like a dream," you said.

And we were both right.
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(c) 2009 by Tony Simmons
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Tomorrow: Dark Side of the Moon.

Patterns of Forever (366 Days redux)

The woman had a severe sunburn. I winced when she came up to the counter and said she wanted a tat. She didn’t ask how much or pause to let me ask about her burn. She pulled up her loose shirt tail and showed me the pattern on her stomach.

That’s when I noticed that the burn was only on her front half. The backs of her arms and legs were a normal shade made pale by the red on the front half of her body. Obviously, she’d fallen asleep lying on her back at the beach. But the pattern she showed me:

“It’s where he placed his hand,” she said. “I was drowsy, and when he came up out of the water and lay beside me on the blanket, I asked him to make sure I didn’t sleep, make sure to wake me so I would turn over and not burn. He said he would. He was out of breath from the boogie board and the waves, but he assured me he was wide awake.

“When I woke up, I was mad because he’d fallen asleep too. I shoved his hand aside. But he wasn’t asleep. Massive heart attack. Right there on the blanket beside me. Never made a sound. But he had reached for me there, at the end. He had reached for me and put his hand on my stomach. He tried to tell me. To wake me. He left it there while I slept and he went away.”

I looked at the pale pattern of a left hand print on the lower right side of her stomach. I told her what I’d charge to outline it in black. She waved her hand, dismissing the cost. She didn’t care what it cost.

“Make it red,” she said. “Fill in the pattern the same color as my skin is now. Make it last forever.”
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(c) 2009 by Tony Simmons
Originally published at PCityLive.com
Eric Darnell's favorite of my early 366 Days project.

Once upon three haiku

Once upon a time,
Happily ever after
was what we wanted.

In the meantime, though,
Happily ever after
became but a dream.

When we awoke, we
retold the fairy tale,
once upon a time.

Quick one: The Wall of Voodoo

I have many old albums. Some I have never listened to, and only purchased from yard sales because I was amused or intrigued by the cover art. I change the display of art on my wall whenever the mood strikes. This photo above was from the wall circa May/June. Below is the new one, which will probably last through July.

Peace.

Strange Days

It's my son's 21st birthday, so +21.

(His girlfriend turns 20 on the 20th in 20 days, so that's T-minus-20.)

Everyone at my workplace got a 5-percent pay smackdown today, so -5.

E5 magazine debuted today, and I managed to find one at Starbuck's tonight, so +2.

Both my wife and I feel sick tonight, so -2.

I don't even care about math, so -1 for me. Where does that leave us? (Naught, carry the naught, ... oh, I give up.)

Today must have been one of the strangest days...

Peace.

Awakening from the Dream

Oberon better hope Titania doesn't find out about Cobweb.

More photos from Saturday's closing show of "A Midsummer Night's Dream," this time from after, as the troupe met the crowd.

Puck and Mustardseed.

Titania greets a couple of young fans.

Oberon greets his grandmother. See the family resemblance?

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Today's Pick(s):

My favorite movie version of this (I've only seen two, but still...). Kevin Kline is incredible as Bottom, and everyone else is pretty dang awesome too.



The 1960s hippy-trippy version with Mrs. Peel (Diana Rigg) as Helena and (young) Helen Mirren as Hermia and Bilbo Baggins (Ian Holm) as Puck and Jack the Ripper (David Warner) as Lysander and young pre-Dame Judi Dench (nude) who puts the first three letters into her role of Titania. Very strange, very 60s mod British filmmaking. But you have to see it. I'm just glad that this exists in my world.



And this one I know nothing about, except Nathan said they watched it before doing the play this summer. James Cagney as Bottom (and thus, also, Pyramus)? Teenage Mickey Rooney as Puck? I have to see this. Maybe you'd want to also.

And if we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended:

Peace.

Midsummer Night's Dream Images

Puck turns invisible.

The closing performance of Shakespeare By The Bay's production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" was Saturday at Pier Park's outdoor amphitheater. Here are some of the stranger images I managed to capture:

Oberon is translated, or perhaps transubstantiated.

Oberon is passed by insubstantial fae folk.

Mustardseed materializes.

Oberon observes the mortals.

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(More photos later.)