"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll give you the moon..."
James Stewart. Fabulous actor.
I was outside not ten minutes ago and I highly recommend to anyone still awake that they go outside right now and to everyone else that they go outside tomorrow night. The moon is absolutely beautiful and will still be tomorrow night.
I was taking my dog out for the bathroom and I thought to myself, "Who left the floodlight on?" But, it was the moon that was bathing everything in an unreal light, not a floodlight. At one fifteen in the morning, I had a shadow on the driveway. Everything looked like a black-and-white film, and any splash of color I saw under the moonlight seemed foreign, odd, to the point of distaste.
Under the moonlight, I could see everything clearly. I could see various members of the colony of feral cats we have on my dad's property darting back and forth in response to my presense. I could see my dog peeing I everything in sight and running around like a mad track star. I could see the collection of flowers our neighbor has, a rainbow of color muted to silver for the night.
And I was thinking. The moon made me think of all of the other people I know looking up at or sleeping soundly under the same incandescent moon. It made me think of a girl. Not any girl in particular, just a girl I could walk out to an open field with, sit on a bench with, holds hands with, and watch the moon with. A girl I could share the moonlight with. A girl whose hair the moon would wash with curving strings of silver and in whose eyes I could see the moon. A girl with a smile that the moon is forced to compete with.
Alanna and I did that once.
Then, under the moonlight, I realized how cold I was in my shorts, called my dog, and went inside to right this journal half-asleep.
Bottom line: look at the moon tomorrow night.
-Josh G.
I was outside not ten minutes ago and I highly recommend to anyone still awake that they go outside right now and to everyone else that they go outside tomorrow night. The moon is absolutely beautiful and will still be tomorrow night.
I was taking my dog out for the bathroom and I thought to myself, "Who left the floodlight on?" But, it was the moon that was bathing everything in an unreal light, not a floodlight. At one fifteen in the morning, I had a shadow on the driveway. Everything looked like a black-and-white film, and any splash of color I saw under the moonlight seemed foreign, odd, to the point of distaste.
Under the moonlight, I could see everything clearly. I could see various members of the colony of feral cats we have on my dad's property darting back and forth in response to my presense. I could see my dog peeing I everything in sight and running around like a mad track star. I could see the collection of flowers our neighbor has, a rainbow of color muted to silver for the night.
And I was thinking. The moon made me think of all of the other people I know looking up at or sleeping soundly under the same incandescent moon. It made me think of a girl. Not any girl in particular, just a girl I could walk out to an open field with, sit on a bench with, holds hands with, and watch the moon with. A girl I could share the moonlight with. A girl whose hair the moon would wash with curving strings of silver and in whose eyes I could see the moon. A girl with a smile that the moon is forced to compete with.
Alanna and I did that once.
Then, under the moonlight, I realized how cold I was in my shorts, called my dog, and went inside to right this journal half-asleep.
Bottom line: look at the moon tomorrow night.
-Josh G.