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laura_seabrookIt was a stinking hot day yesterday, reaching 38c in the shade. I spent most of the time at TAFE, in an air conditioned computer room, but I had to come home sometime. I took poor Pegasus out for a walk, but he almost melted, even though he jumped in two pools aloong the way.
Night time was the same. I started watching a video called "The Butcher's Wife" but the power went off. Out here in Barnsley we get about two or three black outs a year. I'd figured that with the heat, everyone had turned on their air conditioners (I have none) and that pushed it over the edge.
I just laid there listening to the background noises in the street. There were very few. I'd just taken a bath and wasn't wearing anything, so I peered out through the front window. There were a few folk out with torches just to see if it was only them. Then I put a wrap on and walked out into the back yard and looked up.
There was the Milky Way, minus background light from street lamps and elsewhere (though mysteriously, the lights at the roundabout were still on). I could feel the hot and ont so hot breezes caress my body as I gazed up. There was something comforting about them just being there. I don't mind not having power, and I'm not afraid of the dark. And the stars in, all their glory, having existed for who knows how long, just sit there for me to see.
And their light, well right now none of them are actually where they were when that light left them. Sol's nearest neighbour, Alpha Centuri (I watched 'Lost in Space') is 4 light years away, which means that the light (and position) that we can see from that star is 4 years old. It's moved on, even if that's ever so slightly. But the image of an eternity, endlessly changing, never static, and almost incomprehensively old (billions oyears, what's that in terms in human magnitude?).
Wow.
A few years ago, when I was up in Tuntable Falls visiting Kali, there'd been a lunar eclipse. We'd stood there on the mountain that led to her geodesic dome, and watched as the stars went from being just white dots to a multicoloured spectacle. It onl;y lasted minutes, but I remember it well.
Later, I went back inside, lighted a few candles and read a chapter of A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory by Nikki Sullivan. I'd discovered this book in the TAFE library and was keen to finish reading it before the end of TAFE this week. Then I went to bed, awakening about 11:30 when the power came back on. I set a tape up to take Trek, and then went back to bed.
Life is strange at times. I have no certain idea of where I'm headed just now. I have a few ideas , but I don't know how to make them work. But maybe that's not as important, as appreciating the scenary along the way.
Night time was the same. I started watching a video called "The Butcher's Wife" but the power went off. Out here in Barnsley we get about two or three black outs a year. I'd figured that with the heat, everyone had turned on their air conditioners (I have none) and that pushed it over the edge.
I just laid there listening to the background noises in the street. There were very few. I'd just taken a bath and wasn't wearing anything, so I peered out through the front window. There were a few folk out with torches just to see if it was only them. Then I put a wrap on and walked out into the back yard and looked up.
There was the Milky Way, minus background light from street lamps and elsewhere (though mysteriously, the lights at the roundabout were still on). I could feel the hot and ont so hot breezes caress my body as I gazed up. There was something comforting about them just being there. I don't mind not having power, and I'm not afraid of the dark. And the stars in, all their glory, having existed for who knows how long, just sit there for me to see.
And their light, well right now none of them are actually where they were when that light left them. Sol's nearest neighbour, Alpha Centuri (I watched 'Lost in Space') is 4 light years away, which means that the light (and position) that we can see from that star is 4 years old. It's moved on, even if that's ever so slightly. But the image of an eternity, endlessly changing, never static, and almost incomprehensively old (billions oyears, what's that in terms in human magnitude?).
Wow.
A few years ago, when I was up in Tuntable Falls visiting Kali, there'd been a lunar eclipse. We'd stood there on the mountain that led to her geodesic dome, and watched as the stars went from being just white dots to a multicoloured spectacle. It onl;y lasted minutes, but I remember it well.
Later, I went back inside, lighted a few candles and read a chapter of A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory by Nikki Sullivan. I'd discovered this book in the TAFE library and was keen to finish reading it before the end of TAFE this week. Then I went to bed, awakening about 11:30 when the power came back on. I set a tape up to take Trek, and then went back to bed.
Life is strange at times. I have no certain idea of where I'm headed just now. I have a few ideas , but I don't know how to make them work. But maybe that's not as important, as appreciating the scenary along the way.
