Bad Moon Rising

April 30, 2010 at 4:07 am (Uncategorized)

You ever notice the way things intensify around a full moon? I had a college roommate who was a firm believer in howling at the moon at this critical point in the lunar cycle; I joined her on occasion, and I have to say, it was enormously therapeutic. Screaming or howling or raising one’s voice against the dark often is powerfully cathartic – it marks a protest, a ‘raging against the dying of the light’ in more ways than one.

It’s not a stretch for me to imagine that we human beings – though we fancy ourselves immune to such base instincts and natural forces – react to the shifting tides and the implacable cycles of the moon. Why wouldn’t we? We know other animals respond to elements of the physical universe; why wouldn’t we? They don’t call it ‘lunacy’ for nothing, people! Llew always scoffs at my full moon theory – being that everything goes screeching off the hinges – but it’s hardly original. And okay, some of those people who believed in moon madness in days of old also believed in phrenology, and a flat earth, and the irretrievably corrupt souls of the left-handed among us… but still, this particular concept doesn’t seem so crackpot to me. I think you could casually interview any group of people huddled beneath your average bus shelter and find some fair anecdotal ammunition. Sure, sure, the stuff of wives’ tales, you may say, but… sometimes wives’ tales are true.

I’m just saying.

Because boy, has this week leading up to the full moon been a humdinger – I’m almost surprised no one’s driven a car through the side of my apartment. And I’m amazed to realise it’s been an entire week since I last posted, really amazed, but on reflection, I might have guessed I’d end up in some kind of time warp too. That’s just like the moon, casting this kind of spell on me. I haven’t been able to keep track of what day it is because I’ve been too busy ogling its fat face, watching it approaching its zenith as though I were leading a Cape Canaveral countdown.

It’s exhausting. All the tension in the crowd. Everyone craning their rubbery necks for a glimpse at that distant pockmarked lunar surface. All the malicious behind-the-scenes whispers of budget cuts, mechanical failure, and rank incompetence from the top down. Will I take off or tank? Take off or tank? Take off or tank? Take off or –

Tank.

Yep. I tanked.

I tanked right across the board, really made it count. They’ll be finding shrapnel in Inuit moccasins left by the entrance to the igloo for months to come. When I bomb, I like to bomb big. I’ve always loved mushrooms, after all.

I won’t bore you with the details of all the ways in which my week was a steaming turd, I’m going to just have to ask that you take my word for it (quite likely the sole word I’ll ever have accepted by anyone, anywhere). But it was a comprehensive dump, the sort you see starting when some dog owner thoughtfully leaves it smoking on the footpath, and then some hapless early morning jogger accidentally kicks a chunk down the street a ways, and then some super pram minces the remaining pile through its wheels and tracks it down the path for another couple of hundred metres or so, at which point a woman rushing to a job interview skids in it because she’s wearing new heels and isn’t looking, and then she scrapes it onto the grass, cursing and hissing and obscurely blaming her sick mother, at which point I come along, whistling and clicking my heels, and witlessly lie down in it. There you go. That was my week.

(The only good news is significantly positive, in that Baby J hasn’t staged an untimely exit from what I can gather. Even if I am covered in shit.)

Advertisements

12 Comments

  1. Fugitive Pieces said,

    Oh, lovey. Still, if a job’s worth doing…Power hose and bleach time? Or just a flamethrower?
    Given my left-handed, epileptic but nevertheless sane history, I used to be cynical about the full moon’s influence; after all, I felt fine those nights, why wouldn’t everyone else? This was until a few years ago, and my first full-moon night shift at an Inner West bookshop. All I can say is – egads, the wolves really did come howling out of the dark that night. Some of them had credit notes. And ditto every subsequent month, because as the newbie, it was strikingly hard to persuade my seasoned colleagues to take those shifts…

  2. doctordi said,

    Fugitive, I am a big advocate of the Hefty Lefties of this world and have been from way back. I even married one! And my sister-in-law is one. Some of my best friends are left-handed *and* utterly wrong-headed – it’s what I love about ’em.

    There. You see? Werewolves.

  3. Fugitive Pieces said,

    Oy, woman. Ahem. ‘Utterly wrong-headed’ I’ll put my hands up to (my dating history alone suggests worse epithets) but hefty? HEFTY? I’m big-boned. It’s glandular. I eat like a waif. I…I…I…whoa, hold fire, is that full moon waning yet? Or is this just cookie-cutter self-delusion?
    Mmm, cookies…

    • doctordi said,

      Calm down, girl. Heft can mean substantiality of mind and manner, you know, and have nothing whatsoever to do with size. But I do like cookies.

  4. Grad said,

    Shorty is a south paw; so is my sister. They are the “arty” ones in the family. It does cause logistical problems at the Thanksgiving table, however. I tried to switch from right handed to left handed when I was a kid. My sister convinced me that trying to change your handed-ness caused madness, so I stopped – I’m not sure in time. We missed you around here. Glad your back – even given the shitty week.

    • doctordi said,

      Llew and I find this too, Graddikins, we’re constantly swapping sides depending on the activity. Otherwise there’s much bumping of elbows.

      Thank you. I really didn’t mean to be away so long. I was stunned into silence by an unbroken string of lousiness.

  5. Lilian Nattel said,

    I’m so sorry that you had such an awful week, but the one good note is a very good one to hear.

    Some years ago, when we were on the east coast, my h woke me up in the middle of the night to go for a walk in the light of the full moon. It was amazing to see those long shadows as we walked along country roads in its light.

    • doctordi said,

      Thanks, Lilian. It’s a substantial antidote for dealing with the rest of it.

      I think that’s the other thing: I *love* full moons, they’re so stunning and eerie and could make me believe in all sorts of deliciously spooky things, so it’s a shame this one wasn’t so fun. By the way, I heard a radio program on the weekend in which they said Northern Territory police had expected a crime surge over the full moon because there’s usually a clear spike in lawless activity at the same time, so it’s an interesting question of altered behaviour. Apparently one theory is that because we are mainly made up of water, we respond to changes in gravitational pull. Not so crazy, given the crazies.

  6. davidrochester said,

    That good note is the only one worth remembering in this off-pitch week.

    • doctordi said,

      True, David. I just hope I can pull off the selective amnesia.

  7. litlove said,

    Every so often a week has to be condemned to the dustbin of history. I’m so sorry you’ve had one of those, but the laws of karma dictate that only good can now be on its way. And I agree with the others that the positive note is a very fine one indeed.

  8. doctordi said,

    Don’t I know it, LL. All week I was saying to myself, ‘Oh well, at least Baby J is still on board, that’s the main thing…’ but yeah, could have done without the rest of it, and into the dustbin it goes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: