3 nights ago I spotted Orion in the sky. Sideways, from the backseat of someone’s car late at night. A great, lone, yellow constellation, rising. And I thought, that despite the sun and the leaves on the trees, despite the perpetual ocean, winter was truly on its way. This was a shock to me. I’m an east coaster. There, oceans ceased to exist in the winter. Water stopped its flow. Then the colors went away.
I wonder what it’ll be like here. 3 nights ago the fog rolled in from the sea and there were no more stars.
I’ve been feeling lonely since and reading Feynman for inspiration. I would sit up on the window and fill my head with his voice. I feel like I’m slowing down again and I’m desperate to keep moving. Last night I went to a show at Moe’s Alley with a friend (‘that party at Moe’s last night was the best I’ve seen,’ he says.) and pushed my way to the front where all the people were packed in and the band was playing. From here, I contemplated the Brownian motion of the people in the crowd, jostling each other for dancing room, all bobbing up and down and wiggling around. A thought came over me and I had a sudden and overwhelming urge. I wanted to be a particularly excited molecule in this uniform background of somewhat energetic molecules, so I started jumping up and down and throwing my arms around. I did this for some time, all the while laughing out loud from the amusement of it and how I looked from a distance. Later, I thought that was a pretty strange thing to do. Sometimes, I don’t think I’m very far from insanity.
For example, I know the fog came in especially thick tonight and if I look out the window I’ll get lost. I know each day I’m sleeping close to the ground and waking up a little later than the last; a little colder and a little slower and with a little less. For example, all I can think right now is that Richard Feynman is dead and I miss him like crazy.