God's Own Fingernail

As I was walking back to my sisters house tonight, I followed the moon.  It is almost a perfect half moon tonight, casting just enough light every now and then to lend a dream-like quality to the moment, when it happened to be just right.  I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing - the experience I have every now and then when I'm out late at night and walking, when a few elements of thought and observation line up just-so that they twist reality into more of an abstract feeling, rather than this physical matrix in which I normally perceive myself as imbedded within.  These moments occur and I always experience them with a part of myself which is detached.  I don't know what it's detached from... just that it's detached, and not part of the majority for a little while.  For a few moments.  And sometimes this scares the ever loving crap out of me.

There's no such thing as a moment, by the way.  I'm certain that I'm not the first somebody to realize this, but it still seems kind of profound to me, that the thought coursed through my brain and stimulated my awareness.  Kind of like... say, the way a retarded, malformed appendix cell languishing amongst a culture of Isle of Langerhans, with a virus clinging to its nucleus and inserting alien RNA into its genome, causing it to digest its own mitochondria, may realize at some level resembling a few bits of information, that this situation is certainly unique to its existence which, up to that point, might have otherwise been fairly normal... that is, if it had been a regular, non-retarded appendix cell, existing in an appendix, doing whatever it is that appendix cells are supposed to do, as they occupy a series of connected moments, with one moving seamlessly into the next.  Except that there aren't any individual moments.  There is only the one long moment of the present, inside which we are all trapped and imprisoned and enslaved, like a gear in a machine... a gear which has to have THIS many teeth, and which has to interface specifically with THAT gear, and which must turn at a CERTAIN speed, so that its momentum can be transferred to the NEXT MOMENT... so that existence can continue to be.  So we divide up life into little segments called moments, which don't even exist.  It's exactly like pointing to an empty field and saying, "Hey, check out that fire breathing, 20 thousand ton mayfly dancing on the head of that tiny shard of degenerate matter, defecating rainbows and singing a different kind of math."  It's exactly like that.

So, like I was saying.  I was walking back to my sisters house tonight, following the moon.  And while I was doing this, walking along and looking at the moon, marveling at the pure fact that it was right there, shining this silver white light down onto the ground, onto a field of grass which fairly glowed with this blue-green sheen... as if the very atoms which comprised its being were each individually painted over with a physical manifestation of the ether through which dreams flow... anyway, so while I was doing this, the walking and looking thing, with the moon and the grass and all, I suddenly realized something.  I had an epiphany, if you will.  A grand moment of clarity.  That the moon, in its waning gibbous state, was God's Own Fingernail, hovering up there, right in front of me, right at that moment.  And that since there is no ONE single moment, that must mean that it (God's Own Fingernail, that is) is always there, has always been there, will always be there, and won't ever not be there.  God's Own Fingernail, that is.  And then I kind of got scared shitless and hurried up and got here so I could type up this absurdity, rendering the abstract thought of the insane into a few harmless, logical words which fairly obeyed the rules of grammar.