I should have gone to the moon. I probably would have built my own base there if I had had the chance. Sadly, the rise of liberalism in this country meant that spending on the space program had to come to a crashing halt so that we could keep welfare cheats in comfortable style so that the inner cities in this country wouldn't boil over. I hope it was money well spent.
There was some talk between Father and I as to whether or not I should learn to fly. Remember now: I was quite a frisky boy, so I don't know if he was kidding about this or not. The subject of learning to fly first came up when I was about 13. Father was adamant that I learn to fly in dangerous aircraft wearing nothing but the clothes mother put on me, and I demurred. The jumpsuit was king in those days, and no self-respecting boy would do anything dangerous without first putting on a jumpsuit. I wanted to fly cargo planes that had safety gear; he wanted me to fly in experimental test aircraft as an unpaid or unregistered volunteer for the United States Air Force, or, barring that, for the Chinese or the French.
Did you know the moon can make you crazy? I have known that all of my life. Now they've made a film about it (how the moon can make you nuts, not about me):
Science fiction movies don’t necessarily flourish in deep space. The best ones blossom in the fertile gray matter between your ears, and that’s precisely where Moon takes root. Trafficking in paranoia, isolation and corporate cover-ups, this delicately crafted first feature from director Duncan Jones shines a light toward the awkward shadow dance between science and humanity.
Jones wrote the story specifically for actor Sam Rockwell (Choke, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind), who delivers a virtuoso performance as helium miner Sam Bell. Playing a lonely man on the moon as he nears the end of his three-year mining contract, Rockwell digs deep and comes up with an intricately layered portrait of a drone at wits’ end.
As he preps for his return to Earth, Sam starts hallucinating about sinister scenarios that may or may not be unfolding at his lunar outpost. Glitches in video messages he receives from his wife and from his corporate masters only fuel his paranoia.
Sounds like a real barn burner. I may see it, or I may not. It depends on whether or not the AMC near me shows it. I won't go anywhere else. I must have stadium seating, and I must go when there aren't too many people.
Celebrities, you have to consider how your projects make people like myself feel. If you're not pausing to figure out how your overly-long film or your ridiculous plot devices are going to affect me, you're not doing your job or jobs.
I certainly won't go see the film when my mind comes into moon phase and starts acting up on me. When I have what we call around the house "moon fever" I become very difficult to predict or deal with. I'm all but useless, in other words, and I lurch around, swinging my arms and knocking things over. I sweat a lot, I eat very little, and I'm in the bathroom quite a bit. It takes about a week for me to sweat it out and then I'm fine. Peej insists that I have malaria--as if! Malaria is something they get in tropical countries. In my lifetime, I've only been in about forty-six tropical countries that are known to have significant populations with malaria, and, in most of those, I never bothered with mosquito netting or sunblock. Malaria? Ha!
The moon is what does it to me. When the moon gets out of sync and pulls the oceans too close, the effect it has on me is palpable. I can sit in the study and feel it coming on, usually once a year. No matter what I do, the sweating and the panicking never seem to get any better, unless I take this silly drug called quinine. It's a chronic thing for me, moon sickness. I shall probably never be free of it.