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By Misti Date: 2005 May 23 Comment on this Work [[2005.05.23.00.15.2117]] |
| I'm thinking of Jupiter. I'm pissed off I can't see it and I'm really pissed off that I can't fly there. We watched a show on the Discovery Channel. It was like a documentary but it was fake. You explained it to me but I still didn't understand. Why couldn't it be real? Why go to such lengths to make it seem real if it was fiction? Like the Blair Witch but much much worse. Who gives a fuck about a fictional witch in Maryland. Science fiction breaks my heart like Santa Claus but worse. No man is good enough to give away that many gifts to that many undeserving people. But here is the thing. I stopped believing in Santa Claus and Mommy and Daddy and the Tooth Fairy and Valentine's Day and the Easter Bunny and myself. I had what some people call a God sized hole and I needed to fill it in the worst way. So I rode my bicycle to the public library and checked out armloads of books on the Bermuda Triangle and ghosts and astrology and astronomy and UFOs. You wanted to go to Roswell for the weekend. It meant a lot to you and it meant a road trip for me so we went. I stopped believing in aliens a long time ago. Then I found out that a sheep rancher discovered the debris on his ranch. That was all I needed to hear. I knew the truth. Aliens did land in Roswell and they did die and the government did cover up the truth. No sheep rancher is going to spend money he doesn't have to drive his old battered pickup truck 35 miles into town to report possible UFO debris unless it is real. I know this because I know ranchers. I know poverty. I know that people who live their lives mired in poverty don't have any amount of tolerance for bullshit or flights of fancy. They are no-nonsense. It was not a weather balloon. It was a UFO and anyone with any sense at all who goes to the research center in Roswell and watches a Bob Lazar video will know that. Ever heard of Project Looking Glass? I have and it slays me. I have always suspected that time travel is possible. I met Madeleine L'Engle at Schreiner College. I handed her my hardcover copy of A Wrinkle in Time and told her with tears in my eyes,"It is an honor to meet you." I am not that smart or logical. I am an emotional intuitive psychic poetic wreck of a human being. I cannot fathom remedial algebra, let alone physics. I barely passed biology in high school. But I know there are people much smarter than me, like my husband's astro physicist uncle who is a celebrity in the scientific community. Like Bob Lazar. I know they know that UFOs and time travel and trips to Jupiter are possible. I am like a member of the Heaven's Gate cult. I want so badly to believe in something larger and more important and infinite than myself. I want to fly to Jupiter. Beyond that I want a starry messy miraculous life that no one can figure out even when I'm dead. Decades from now people can speculate. Great-great-great grandchildren can look at the photos in my albums and read my poems and letters and scratch their heads. Maybe they will be inspired. I am married to the best friend and lover of my life. I laugh everyday. That should be sufficient. But I am a stargazer. I'm a gypsy. I'm impossible. Like life on Jupiter because it's just a big beautiful stormy ball of gas. |