Fullness

The moon became perfectly round tonight, but remained so low that only briefly did it clear the pines to the south. Most of the night, its slightly hazed, yellow light silhouetted the intricate tapestry of branches. Another tapestry, woven of elongated shadows, draped the ground. I have concluded that a full moon near the summer solstice brings the most agreeable moonlight there is. The same thin haze which yellowed the moon's big face prevented more than a handful of stars from appearing, and thus the single orb of light, filtered through the trees, remained the inescapable focus of attention. There was something archaic about the scene. I resisted the temptation to go in search of the wood nymphs and satyrs who undoubtedly cavorted in the nearby forest glades. I didn't even disrobe and roll about on the moon-streaked lawn. But I wanted to. Still, the air was probably a bit to chilly for nakedness. I distinctly recall shivering once or twice, even fully clothed. But maybe that was more a response to the scene itself than to the unseasonable coolness.

Meanwhile, in the virtual world, there is this. Creative Commons commemorates the anniversary of the Free Culture Movement with a recording of "Happy Birthday" which you are allowed to download legally, for your personal use. CC licensed the rights to the copyrighted song, but they have to pay 8.5 cents to the copyright owners each time it is downloaded. The whole thing is apparently intended to serve as an example of the complexity of the way rights to music are cleared under existing copyright law. It makes an interesting bit of reading.

Droop

Heat-induced lassitude has set in. Zombies come from warm climates for a reason. I'm not so sure that Zombies are in fact dead people. I think they are people who have been rendered comatose by the heat, so they appear to be dead, and then they get buried. The ground is nice and cool, so they revive, dig themselves out, and go around biting the people who were stupid enough to bury them. That's what I intend to do.

I've got a head start on Zombie skin, too. While making some iced tea this evening, I got a bit of lemon extract on the tip of my left index finger, and it stung. On inspection, I discovered that the skin is flaking away. I don't think it's leprosy, as that condition is supposed to leave the affected areas numb, and I wouldn't have felt the stinging from the lemon. I don't think it's flesh-eating bacteria, either, unless it's a particularly slothful strain of it. That stuff is supposed to spread very rapidly, and this patch isn't spreading at all. Most likely, it's the result of an increase in my sensitivity to detergents. I've washed dishes while not wearing rubber gloves a couple of times lately (yes, I still wash dishes by hand.) I'm guessing I probably won't die from whatever it is, but its presence probably increases the chances that I'll appear actually dead while I'm merely comatose from the heat.

I only found out the other day that movie producer Ismail Merchant (of Merchant-Ivory Productions) died almost a month ago. Actors get splashed all over the front pages when they die, and when producers die the stories are consigned to the back pages. I think I'd rather be a producer.