It’s weird how the moon effects one’s mood and behavior. At least for me it does.
An age-old argument states that since lunar phases effect the time of tides and tides themselves, then so should the moon affect the ebbs and flows of emotions and moods for humans, birds and animals as well.
Sixty-five percent of the mammalian body is composed of water. For birds it’s sixty-seven percent. No wonder insanity reigns when the moon is full. After all, how many horror tales are known to have occurred during the new moon?
As the moon wanes, my enthusiasm for all things positive diminishes proportionately. Cynicism becomes my credo. I’m not to be held responsible for the foot I put in my mouth as the light of the moon increasingly disappears.
In honor of tonight’s new moon, everything I’ve wanted to say cynically to someone but didn’t at sometime during my life-long lunar cycles thus far are presented in the following list (please pardon some of the language):
Ah, I see the fuck-up fairy has visited us again.
I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.
How about never? Is never good for you?
I see you’ve set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.
I’m really easy to get along with once you learn to worship me.
I’ll try being nicer if you’ll try being smarter.
I’m out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message.
It sounds like English, but I can’t understand a word you’re saying.
I can see your point, but I still think you’re full of shit.
I like you. You remind me of when I was young and stupid.
You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.
I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don’t give a damn.
The fact that no one understands you doesn’t mean you’re an artist.
You sound reasonable. Time to up the medication.
Does your train of thought have a caboose?
Allow me to introduce my selves.
Not all people are annoying. Some are dead.
I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.
Too many freaks, not enough circuses.
Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
If I throw a stick, will you leave?
OK, I can move onward now with a waxing moon—be it crescent or gibbous—on its way to the Full Hunter’s Moon of October. My cynicism slowly reverts back to optimism.
The autumn leaves are turning magnificent colors, as if their shades were refracted from a fading rainbow, leftover from spring and summer.
The radiant foliage is dying, wilting, and falling fast from tree limbs, left to decay on the ground to become one again with the elements, guaranteeing another rebirth of life to look forward in the spring, unless an apocalypse should appear.
I wrote my cynicism reverts back to optimism slowly, so give me a break. Thanks for your continued support.