Time flows in reverse. I watch waves collapse into themselves as they rush backwards.
The sun is the moon and the clouds are all sinking. I can see that the sky is filled with rain, but it must be falling upwards.
Nothing living is in sight. The air is too hot and heavy and stale for lungs or fins or feathers to hold.
Juniper moves like honey dripping down a rock. All her reefs have been shook but the sails refuse to do more than shake.
I think that even if Juniper and I were made of paper we would still not fly or float.
My head feels foggy and I just sit and stare at a world that’s not moving. Am I still alive? Has the ocean died? Who turned the day off?
I just pinched myself and the brain registered pain, so yes I am here, but the ocean is not.
Maybe yesterday it over-exerted itself, got too high on its own waves, and now it needs to rest?
I need to rest. I rest without rest. A restless rest. I have finally jibed back to a starboard tack, so I won’t wake up in the middle of the night after hitting the table or the floor or some other piece of something that is neither soft nor made for sleeping.
Sleeping reminds me of pistol shrimp. I miss those little critters. They are shrimp with a big pincher on one side and a little nubbin on the other. They pop that big pincher all night long and it makes a loud, but pleasant crackling sound inside the boats that berth in southern California. It’s sonically similar to the way coral sounds, but the pistol shrimp take it just a little deeper.
I just read a story about a sailor who fell asleep after accidentally eating a whole bunch of rotten cheese. When he woke up the ship was sailing through a gale and he was full on hallucinating from the cheese. Couldn’t touch the helm if he tried. Could only lay there and shout at the imaginary things happening around his ship.
After reading that, I threw out everything that was in my hot fridge, so fingers crossed, that won’t happen to me.
Although hallucinating on a day without wind might be entertaining. I’m not sure what my mind would bring to life. I usually witness the birth of some mythology- eastern, western, the brain has no preference, it sees them all and jumps easily between.
Do you ever think that we might have taken too much mystery and illusion out of life? That we analyzed and dissected and theorized everything to the point of disconnection? That, in by doing so, we made mythologies and religions evaporate and have left societies -including our own- in puddles of “truths” void of morals? That without morals, societies flounder and eventually drowned within those puddles?
I love love love science, but I also love religion and mythology. I think as humans beings we need rituals, beliefs, and tales of virtue. That without them, the world grows dark.
The wind just picked up. The sun is setting and I see eight birds, of the same species, plucking fish out of the water.
Where has Pluto gone? I look for him every day. He probably already found another gal with a bigger boat. PLUTO!