Today, on my birthday, I’ve been graced with one of those magical days, my favorite days, where my time is moving about four times as fast as Terran time, and so a day here seems to last forever. Best birthday present ever, even better than the one I brought Ryan Anas (you will have to ask him about that).
I’m listening to the gorgeous Roxy record Siren, channelling Bill McKinnon, in Boston, in 1975-76, enveloping that boy on the beach as my timeline shifts, ever so slightly, to include that data point.
In the back of my mind (and sometimes on my Mac too) I’m writing the piece for the Philadelphia and Boston Weeklies, and working in Oliver Thompson. It’s odd and beautiful that Ferry is still getting better, just another great role model. I chose my Voltaire wisely.
One of my own roles here is kind of like… casting. I accumulate and combine the extraordinary, like a really good gel medium. And I need my own slip; Ferry and Hartmann are like the Rain-X of my life, keeping everything slidy with their sleek workaholic examples, producing, producing, thinking new thoughts, doing it elegantly and cleanly. I lean on them, which is easy, as each of them have built entire worlds to relax into. Bill Hartmann is having his own birthday in a few days, I look forward to catching up.
Because of this beautiful timeslip, I’ve already knocked off all of my work and my correspondence, paid my bills, worked through an entire book section, dealt with about 500 happy birthday wishes (jeez) fed the lizards, had four garden breaks, watched the birds, met with the City Inspector, with Solar City, emailed lazily with five friends, messaged with four others, plus a whole day of book-work and God knows what other ton of stuff, and it’s only 9:20 a.m. Obviously, this isn’t possible on Terran time.
I know to ride these spans hard, like the unicorns they are. Naked, holding a carrot juice and a toasted English muffin with Nutella on it, I salute the blue sky, the birds, the lizards, the sunshine, the pool, which has reached 70 the natural way for the first time today. I moved the cover off a couple of weeks ago, deciding instead of all of that dragging, to access the inner Canadian that Bill has built carefully inside me with repeated genetic transfer over the decades. When I was using it, though, I always pulled it on from inside the pool, after a hard swim.
Dragging the cover onto the (35 foot long) pool from in the water was one of those odd things I liked to do to Prepare For Disaster; I am one of those possibly useful people who actually train for the shiz they might need to do in emergencies. I felt that the cover-drag replicated a cold-water rescue well enough; the scene is: “softened writer after a long winter must save helpless swimmer in cold seas…”. The hope and the dream is that I wouldn’t just freak out, going, “OMG, OMG”, instead, maybe I’d just start swimming, and save a kid too, maybe be able to do something decent.
Needing saving is tedious; I hope to avoid that. Offering it, though, yes, I’d like to be able to. I am inspired by my daughter, who can save people from a variety of perils, and my two sons, who can ninja their way out of it before it even starts. Me, I am just a writer. So I dream up little catastrophes, out of thin air, and solve them for fun, and to train my mind.
In this dream state, this time-out-of-time, epiphanies come and go; I become enchanted and I watch them stupidly as they float out of frame, perhaps never to return. I know I should try to catch them, but I also know that I should float, and watch.
Maybe it’s time for a swim. Today, lunch with my beautiful friend Susan Denis.
Amazingly, even though I spent all morning on this post, it’s only 10:20; only one Terran hour has past. I guess I’m still rolling in spacetime. Cool.