(no subject)
Inflatable planetarium in the school commons today. We crawl in through the bent tunnel on hands and knees, making hotboxing jokes, making birth canal jokes, hoping nobody outside will leap on our moving lumps. We lie down on the tile floor and watch a woman my age whirl the universe.
"Earth is a comfortable place for us," she says, contrasting it to Mars and Venus.
"Not for us," I think.
"Not for me," says one of our four middle-schoolers. The dome mikes his weak voice. "Is it okay if I move to Mars and freeze?"
We crawl out, unimaginably tiny, assured of our identity as stardust and empty space.
I get paid for this. Not much.
"Earth is a comfortable place for us," she says, contrasting it to Mars and Venus.
"Not for us," I think.
"Not for me," says one of our four middle-schoolers. The dome mikes his weak voice. "Is it okay if I move to Mars and freeze?"
We crawl out, unimaginably tiny, assured of our identity as stardust and empty space.
I get paid for this. Not much.