So many lives are on the breeze

So... I kind of forgot I had this blog until the marvelous Paige reminded me. Glad I have alerts set up on my comments.

In a surprising twist on what I was sure would be disappointment, Iron Man turned out to actually be a funny movie. I saw a lot of myself in this version of Tony Stark and the special effects were amazing. They blended almost seamlessly with the live action components and at times I actually forgot I was looking at CG. Very impressive. It gets two thumbs up from me.

I don't have much to post right now so I'll include part of an old, abandoned story. The female character is named Jazz, and I'll give a prize if anyone can guess who the male character is. Here's your hint: think archetypal trickster. I won't give the prize for just any trickster either. It has to be the right one. Good luck.

As she cast her gaze up to the moon the moon cast its gaze upon her. A thrill of awareness passed between them, and in the silent language of women they spoke to one another.

I am full of secrets, she said to the moon.

I am also full of secrets, the moon answered. Have we come this way before?

Yes, and you will come this way again. Jazz closed her eyes and raised her arms, feeling the moonlight on her soul. Moon, do you ever tell them?

The moon was silent a long while, then replied, My secrets are vast and deep, child. I would not remember where to begin the telling. Your secrets are also vast and deep. They are too wide for your mouth to speak and so we speak them with our souls, shining on the world. Will you come this way again?

I don't know, Jazz sighed happily. I am always changing.

I am also always changing, said the moon. And then it was done, their moment of commune broken.

Jazz looked down, remembering the world again.

"The moon is a fickle friend, you know."

Jazz turned toward the voice, toward the boy on the corner. He was leaning against the wall under the streetlamp, his tophat tipped low over his face, shadowing it. His fingers were tucked in his pockets, but not the thumbs so his arms hung limp and heavy from his shoulders.

"She's always changing, you see," he said, pushing off and walking casually closer. The smirk on his face was wicked looking. "You can't trust that she'll remember you tomorrow."

Jazz just smiled her little smile and arched an eyebrow. Closer she could see he was skinny, with lightly tanned skin and golden hair that made her think of Robert Smith. It stuck out in all directions from under the edge of the hat like the tangle of hemp around his throat.

"I, on the other hand, never forget a face." He gave her a mock bow and looked up under the brim of his hat. She noticed his eyes were yellow.

"And who might you be?" she asked, the smile threatening to crack into a grin.

"No one of consequence, my lady, but if you'd like a name you can call me Shilah." When he stood she noticed he was taller than her. "Who might you be, Miss Talks-to-the-Moon?" She went to speak but he raised a hand, "Wait, wait -- I know your name. It's Shadi."

Again she arched a brow, "Shadi, huh? What does it mean?" She tossed the piecey blonde hair out of her face to get a better look at him.

"It means older sister. Your medicine is older than mine, you know," he said matter-of-factly.

She laughed in her harsh way. "I see. I think I can guess what Shilah means then. Little brother?" He smiled in confirmation. "Okay, then, Little Brother. Would you like to go walking with me? It's a night for moving." She lifted her arms and spun around, hopping a few steps down the street.

"Sorry, Shadi, not tonight. Another time," he told her, tipping his tophat a little farther down.

"Your loss, then, Shilah." Jazz spun around and kicked in a puddle to send droplets flying his way. Only he wasn't on the street anymore and she hadn't heard him go. "Shilah?" She looked around a minute then shrugged it off. She looked up again at the moon, but it was passing behind a cloud, and didn't see her.

"Looks like it's just me, then," she told herself, and started off down the road. She wasn't lonely there in the dark. She was incapable of being lonely, because she'd never been anything but alone. Not really. Not in any way that matters. Overhead powerlines criss-crossed the stars leaving black highways between them. She thought of space freighters hurtling past at the speed of sound in the void and then of great beings instead, hurtling past at the speed of ages.

What do you dream about, I wonder, she asked the void. As expected, she did not get an answer, but she suddenly felt keenly her proportion to the universe. Conversely, rather than feeling miniscule, she felt immense. She was a planet, spinning lazily in orbit watching her moons flit past. She was a star, burning in an effort to stave off the darkness. She was an ant, bearing the crushing weight of a leaf toward the hive. The night always evoked peace in her and she felt herself again as connected to the living, beating heart of the world.