Moon

           The moon is out, but there are no werewolves. It's a full moon, but I'm not superstitious. I am an actor, though, working on their lines and it's a full moon. It's not like it's the Scottish Play, which is cursed, it's just an ordinary, stupid, kid's play, so there's nothing to worry about. It's a full moon. See, in the country, in no man's land, you can see all the stars at night surrounding the moon and it's beautiful. There are cars and trucks sometimes with their ugly motors ruining the serenity. But, then I look up at the star and the moon on this clear night and all seems peaceful again.  See, I moved away from the city and the chaos for the serenity and sometimes, like tonight, I get it. There's little smog here, too, which is nice and almost no people. People are bastards. Fuck people. The world could survive a billion years without people and two days without bugs. I want the calm and serenity of nature. No gun shots, nearest grocery store is 50 miles away. Just nature at its finest. I could sleep in the woods if I wanted to. I can run around naked. No one is forcing me to shave, shower, get a haircut, and there's no tv here. It's serene. That's the nice thing about butt fuck Egypt, there's no one to bother me, no one to please or disappoint. Just me and the wilderness like in the Garden of Eden, but there's no Eve and I'm saving my ribs. 

           I hunt every night, but without a gun. There are billions of ways to hunt: slingshots, traps, mallets, billions of ways. And I see other animals hunting each other and eating the vegetation as part of the ecosystem. It may seem unusual to be an actress in the middle or nowhere with no cameras or stages, but “The World is a Stage”. Nature won't reveal her secrets, but I can keep scrapping the edge of her. See, the air feels pure. I can smell the urine and fecal matter of the animals, the aromas of the different plants, the clear air. It's like a fine wine; difficult to get accustomed to the taste, but well worth the wait. Squirrels, monkeys, donkeys, crickets, oh my. 

           In nature, nothing wears clothes, there are no rules, there's rape, pregnancy, violence, mobs. There are no cops, no umpires, just God in all their glory of evolution. It's beautiful. Young, teen, middle aged, old, and dead, if they're lucky. A lot of them get eaten, which is good. Population control. Why don't humans have preditors in the cities? Wouldn't that be nice? Humacides to kill those pesky humans. Domesticated dogs and cats don't exist here. Lions and wolves do, though. 

           See, somewhere humankind went wrong. We started farming and killing off the vermon. Every living creature on Earth would be dead in two days if we killed all the bugs, but if we killed all the humans, the Earth would continue for aeons. Nobody'll care about Shakespeare or Hemingway after everything's burned by the wildfires. The ozone's gone, but we're not worried about recycling, since it doesn't positively impact our income. Idiots. This is why I deserted humans; because they're idiots. All they want is to reproduce without accountability. They don't understand the ecosystem the way squirrels do. How much good will the bottom line do if all the neighborhoods are up in flames due to climate change? 

           The moon is out and it's a full moon. Wonder for how long this lost area will last? When will it be filled up with smog, oil, or other man-made pollutants. “If God didn't want us to eat animals, why are they made of meat?” Crazy salimanders. They want to eat the chipmunks. The chipmunks want the squirrels and the squirrels have no nuts. Nothing is worse than having someone help you when you don't want help. Wonder if other animals hug in the wild. They mate but do they cuddle afterwards. Survival of the fittest. If “God destroyed all Earth with Fire Chunks” than nothing any of us do matters, not even the “funny boys” who “eat apples during geometry class” or the “every good boy” who “does fine”. Whose “FACE” are we looking at in the square root of negative 4? It's a full moon and nothing's happening. I'm staring at the moon and the moon is staring at me. Nothing's happening. I don't believe in horror films. See, there are ghosts, spirits, fairies, gnomes, and lots of other creatures, and they live out here in the woods, too. They're my audience. They're a great audience, except the hecklers who go boo in the night. Damn ghosts. 

           Charles B. Rosna's friends play rap music all night long. He's white, why is he rapping? Maybe ask the Fox sisters. Maybe they'll serve us nine pizzas. See, Hitler wrote propoganda and I'm writing propoganda, but I'm not Hitler and this is “Random Propoganda,” an evil organization founded at Beloit College, pro-life bastards. This coffee could wake up the dead, have a sip? 

           Every evening rats climb from caves and no one knows whether they're alive or not. I don't believe in werewolves. There's a full moon, though. B D H NOT H D B. No one speaks in Latin anymore. Weight, no wait, where do they go, the broken hearts? Why can't I have a wild animal that wants to stay in the bed with me at night and cuddle with me, because this is the wilderness and “like attracts like” and there are no humans out here. The morons. Fishing nets help, too. No TV or WIFI, just me and Mother Nature, motherfucker; who is Oedipus or Elexa? All animals have adipose. H A LT is “Hungry, angry, lonely, and tired,” in my case add an expra H for horny. See, animals were made to reproduce, that's just how God made us. See, out here we can see the truth of nature and God. How many of these animals are going to confession weekly? None of them? When did they last attend a church? They didn't, because these creatures are a part of God and God is a part of these creatures and a part of me. Therefore, these creatures are a part of me and I'm a part of them. Never get between a mother bear and it's cub or between me and a beer.  

           See, at this point in our lives, no one gives a fuck anymore and maybe that's the goal. Hell, if I wear a knight's suit, a slip, or nothing, who's going to care? The squirrels? I don't think so. No one. And when the Earth goes up in flames and all literature is an inferno, who's going to remember anything or anyone and who gives a shit? No one is going to survive; not the plants, the minerals, the animals, well, expect for the cockroaches.