Mars

So I did it. Last night, after the news, my father said he was going to bed. "Y'know, I need to think about something else for a while, Dad. I'm gonna go out and have a beer."

My Dad said, "Okay."

It was that simple. So off I went to the Raven.

Picture the scene. The Raven. A sleepy little fag bar in New Hope. In I walk, smoking a cigar, all leathered up. It's fun making an entrance!

This guy nearly had to pick his chin up off the floor when he saw me. I played eye hockey with him for a little while, and then he came up to introduce himself to me. His chest was hard, like over-inflated tractor tires.

He had the greatest of all pick up lines that I've ever heard: "Wanna go swimming?"

I was so there.

He was a little drunk on beer, so I drove. He's formerly a nurse, but whaddya know, a few months ago his life went ka-plooie. Now he's working construction. We went to the house of friends of his, and spent time skinny dipping in their pool and relaxing in their jacuzzi, tragically outfitted with these really annoying disco lights. Then we got busy wiht the business of sex.

And then we started talking. And talking. And talking. And talking. I told him everything. About my step mother. About my father. About moving to Bucks County and my fears about that. He told me about his step-monster. His life falling apart.

It was raw and intimate. I said things I haven't been able to say to anyone. We talked. We held each other.

What's happening? What the fuck is going on? My step mother. The black out. These amazing men I'm meeting. Reconnecting with old friends. Watching my plans transform in a minute, like a kaleidascope pattern.

As we were talking, I looked up at the night sky, full of stars. And there it was: Mars. This summer, Mars is the closest it's been to earth in 60,000 years.

Let's be clear. I don't believe in Astrology. At all. It's pseudo-science with no basis whatsoever in reality.

But I think I believe in Mars.

There it's been, all through this. Time and time again, I've looked up and seen Mars glowing in the southeast corner of the sky. During the blackout, I saw it hanging there. In poetry criticism, ascribing human attributes to non-human things is called "pathetic fallacy." But during the blackout, Mars was laughing.

Now Mars is the god of war. His chariot is drawn by hounds that devour human flesh. He is accompanied by plague, pestilence, and famine. Mars had no temples or priests. To the extent he was worshipped, it was in the field of battle. The "fields of Mars." It was blood sacrifice. And, of course, we are at war. Maybe, given Mars' proximity, it could not be otherwise.

Huh. Here's another thought. Maybe it's war, alright, but it's spiritual battle. We're all fighting for our lives. No doubt certain pacifist Buddhist buddhies of mine might take issue with that metaphor (and you know who you are), but there is absolutely positively an intensity. The intensity of battle. I'm running across it everywhere.

"Tear our passions with rough strife through the iron jaws of life."

I think I'm winning.

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