It’s a hot night here tonight. Sticky. Anyway, halfway through watching a crappy movie (one of those Futurama ones, since you asked), I decided to go outside and look at the Moon.
When I was a young nerd, I desperately wanted to go to the Moon. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The internet hadn’t been invented and anyway I hated my teenage life, and my step-mother, and my big brother sometimes. And even more than both of them I hated the athlete’s-foot powder he put on his toes every morning before going off to work. Sex had just been discovered, it was the 60s after all, but I wasn’t getting any of that either. Hence my understandable desire to go to the Moon. America was doing it. It was the next frontier. And Hey: maybe I’d get to meet Mr Spock. He was my HERO!
Anyway, when you think about it: it’s the exact same moon I went out to look at tonight. Exact. Same. Moon.
So I’m out there, and I’m alone, just me and the Moon and the swimming pool and the gentle hiss and murmur of the distant air conditioners, and suddenly this huge wind stirs up; the gum trees and palms were all swirling and dancing and singing louder than the air conditioners; and it was very Miyazaki.
VERY Miyazaki. Hot night; swirly wind; Totoro swooping across riding on a spinning top (which might have happened, behind me). And I was just there. Like: ‘Wow. This is cool’. I sort of glanced around, thinking – “Hey, you oughta get out here and look at this!” But everyone had gone to the FooB.
A single bat flew over me, very low. Maybe just ten feet above my head. ‘Wow. This is cool’
All for me.
I’m going out again just as soon as I’ve finished blogging about it, and checked my email, and finished the movie, and …