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  • Writer's pictureunkillbilly

It's Big and Pink!

There's a full moon tonight.

I don't know why…but I tend to get a little weird during the full ones.

To me, it doesn't make sense, because there is really no difference between the full moon and the new moon. Right? The moon is the moon. Has the same mass, all the time. It has the same velocity, all the time. Indeed, the whole full/new thang is an illusion, if you will. Shadow at play. Gawd shadows are cool. (If you ever get a chance, I highly recommend the book "The Shadow Club".)

The full moon is, of course, the absence of shadow. There's nothing to stand in the way, literally, of the sun's beams bouncin'. Off the surface. Into our eyes…

Perhaps the squirrelyness I feel is the result of the shadow deficit. The shadow balances, in its own weird way, all those photons. No shadow, no balance. Hence, the hinky behavior.

Fortunately, I've been able to corral my thoughts and emotions during the full ones. Used to be full moon rolls around and I go all wolfman. I shit you not. Full on loup garou, baby. The red film, hangin', before my eyes, fuelin' the heat, opening the doors to Anger's cage and lettin' it out. I could do a lot of damage, in a noticeably brief time. That temper. Irritation to anger to rage to fury. Just like that. Not a pause between stages. Off the launch pad with engines at full throttle.

Of course, there were consequences. And every time I'd get caught up in them, people would mention the full moon. And the widespread belief that its presence made people crazy.

Yes, I went crazy. That's because I am crazy. Certified. Diagnosed "With Psychotic Features". Of course, I felt crazy during the full moon. At the same time, buying into the illusion. Claiming that full-moon behavior. I mean, I had the evidence! That's what it's all about, after all. Got no evidence, got no reason to believe…

I've looked for evidence. Thought perhaps I'd find circumstantial proof—in statistics. Maybe find that the authorities have compiled something persuasive. That suggests people get weird during a full moon.

Alas, nothing. Nada. Zip. There have been studies. None ever collected a shred of proof. There's no relation between the full moon and madness.

It's all a matter of expectation and perception. If authorities (police and doctors) expect that full moon nights will be crazier, they may see ordinary weirdness as more extreme than usual during the full moon. The exact same weirdness may go down during other times of the month, but with nothing notable in the celestial realm, the association isn’t there.

Once I came to grips with the expectation/perception paradigm, I could see the truth: I'm weird and crazy all the time. It has nothing to do with the moon.

Now--is there anything special about tonight's full moon? Damn right there is! Tonight…it’s the Pink Moon…with the moon at perigee-syzygy! Somebody catch me if I feint.

Perigee is what distinguishes 'regular' full moons from 'super' moons. Due to the irregular nature of the moon's orbit around the earth (roughly elliptical but also quirky), some full moons happen at apogee, which is when the moon is furthest from the Earth. Perigee is the opposite, when the moon is in tight, making it appear larger than normal, and thus, super. We like that, everybody likes a giant full moon.

But…the real joy…the thing that makes my heart sing: syzygy! Oh man, that is such a good word! I confess—I get at least a quarter wood every time I encounter syzygy in the wild. Syzygy is when celestial bodies line up, and for the Pink Moon it's the Earth, the moon, and the sun. Nice three-way!

To be clear, the moon will not actually be pink. That's too bad. I like pink. Serious. Did I ever tell you I got arrested in the Air Force? I did. (I was party to a heist some guys I lifted weights with pulled off, stole some speakers from a car, asked me to hide them.) I was freaked out—but when they threw me in the brig, I suddenly calmed down.

The holding area I was in was painted pink. In fact, it was Baker-Miller pink. The official color. Of places of incarceration everywhere. What was weird was…I got so relaxed…my excretory system went into full on overdrive and I would have to knock on the door, tell the guard I needed to take a dump, and they'd let me out and take me to the john. Only it kept happenin'! It was so freakin' weird. I had to ask to go, like, eight times!

Why aren't bathrooms everywhere painted with a coat of Baker-Miller?

Lordy. Start off with the moon, end up in the toilet. That's about right for my abnormal musings…

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