Drove out to Lincoln City this afternoon for a wrap party to a writers’ workshop I had previously attended. I sometimes forget how much I like driving, especially on secondary roads through pretty country. Spent a bunch of time thinking my own thoughts about life — making and remaking the bed I lie in, so to speak, with the sheets folded this way and that, tucking the corners then untucking them.
The party was fun. Saw some dear old friends and met some neat new people. Re-created my Seven Point Plot Outline as a Sex Act schtick, pace a memorable few moments at FenCon.
Back at the Genre car, I discovered that odd bit of Oregon weather where, with the top down and the heater running, my windshield is still completely fogged. That can happen when it is fairly cold and extremely humid, but the precise combination of circumstances is rare in my experience.
Finally got that sorted out and hit the road. The moon must have risen around 9 pm, but I was driving (roughly) east into the Coastals in OR-22, which twists a lot and enjoys a horizon interrupted by all sorts of mountain peaks, so when I did encounter the gibbous moon, it was one of the strangest moonrises I’ve ever seen. I swung around a curve and the moon was in the sky like a dirty headlight, emerging for the first time quite suddenly from behind a mountain peak (given my perspective), and therefore appearing extremely large in a textbook case of the “moon illusion.” The moon then vanished almost immediately into a ribbon of very heavy mist.
It seemed as if the night sky had opened up a sleepy, pale eye and winked at me.
The miles gave me more thoughts, including quite a few ruminations on writing, process and competency, and my general approach to life. I concluded that the piper probably never would lead me to reason, but I think I’m okay with that. After all, I live a life messy and unmade, wherein even heaven occasionally winks at me.