Every Full Moon has its own adventures, and seems to follow a similar pattern. Skeptics will say that the full moon doesn’t feel any different, or cause people to behave differently, but many would beg to differ. I would argue that if one becomes aware of it, and if one does something to commemorate the cycle (listening to the Dark Side of the Moon while taking a salt bath, for example) then they will notice the effects much more. It seems repeatable, and thus subject to the same laws and methods as any other repeatable phenomena. It starts out feeling pretty normal, gradually escalates, then things start feeling really weird at about the halfway point, and by the end you feel ready for it to end. This full moon proved no exception, and I thought I’d just document a few of the little things I wanted to write down in one post.

The weirdness started after I took an awesome salt bath, which I love to do on full moons because a salt bath helps the body detoxify, which apparently happens during full moons. I slept for a few hours, and woke up very early (or late depending on your point of view.) I learned that Asus had just released the successor to my Netbook literally the day before I ordered mine. I felt kind of upset, and for about ten minutes, considered returning mine for the newer model. I decided not to, however, because it didn’t differ too much – 6.4 ounces lighter, an extra hour of battery life, and a new case design didn’t seem worth the hassle.

That prompted a rousing discussion about Microsoft versus Linux on a Netbook. I will not rehash the whole debate, as many have already become familiar with the various arguments. Blind people may know Windows, but having something forced on them by a monolith does not make it the best. As for the argument that the manufacturers design the Netbook for Windows, I would just say that without people with the hacker spirit, wanting to do things with their machines beyond their design, we wouldn’t have Netbooks in the first place!

After I simmered down from that, I read a rather disconcerting and poignant email from my friend Chuck Young. You can find him on the blog roll, though I doubt he will publish the article he sent me! By this time it had gotten onto about eight o’clock in the morning, and I need to take a power nap, prepare a shopping list, and meditate.

As well as declaring this the Summer of the Netbook, I also declared it the Summer of Zazen. They don’t call the hara the Golden Stone for nothing!

After recharging and getting my shopping order, it had gotten on to around three o’clock, or noon Pacific time. Ordinarily this wouldn’t matter, but today something extraordinary happened, at least in the eyes of many: Michael Jackson’s Memorial. Oh no! I feel awful blogging about this. I only watched small amounts, as I couldn’t stand hearing people going on and on about Jesus. Viewing it reminded me of viewing Twitter in the past week: lots of #moonfruits! Ha, I saved that joke for now! Things felt kind of creepy, and a kid cried. I tried to enter the mind of a Michael Jackson fan, and feel some remorse. It worked for around two minutes. I still don’t know what the scene looked like, but I heard they had a solid gold casket on stage. I kind of hoped that something cool would happen, like they would lower it down on air, or that the lid would creak open and Michael Jackson’s ghostly countenance would emerge. Alas, nothing of the kind happened, but as with the initial event of his death, I could feel the collective pull. Every channel showed it, and within minutes of it ending they had sound bytes and collages. Programs continue to run as I write this. It also sort of weirded me out that it happened under a full moon. Did they know?

As I sit here outside typing on my lovely netbook, I realize how much I love blogging under the night sky with a full moon, the cool feel of the summer air mingles with the sounds of a suburban town, and the astral light of the full moon permiates my spirit and this entry. I can sense it with my third eye. I only ever saw moonlight once in my life, when a September full moon reflected off the ocean. It looked like a glittering mirror.

Celebrity deaths always come in threes. First, we had Ed McMahon, who died on the 23rd. This made some headlines, but he lived a long life. Today, Farah Fawcett died. She starred in Charlie’s Angels. I didn’t know her at all, but others did. Later in the day, of course, everyone heard about the death of Michael Jackson. Sorry, Mark Sanford, your news cycle has ended. Sleeping with an Argentinian woman seems to normal in comparison.

Why would a celebrity’s death hold my attention? Usually I wouldn’t give one a second thought. I remember listening to Michael Jackson on a tape recorder radio with one speaker. I kept hearing about Michael Jackson, then upon hearing him, I thought he sounded like a girl. I remember Weird Al’s parodies. I also remember this schoolyard chant:

I pledge allegiance to the flag
Michael Jackson is a fag
Pepsi Cola messed him up
Now he’s drinking 7-up
7-up tastes like pee
Now he’s drinking ice tea.

Some other memories surface. In college, while teaching myself Esperanto, he released his History album which had some of the language on the cover or something. Our dorky resident assistant played the album loudly. What a dork! Of course, more recently, child molestation charges came to light, something many had long suspected, as evidenced by the schoolyard rhyme I quoted from the mid eighties. Only Michael Jackson could show up in court wearing pajamas and get acquitted!

As of this writing, a late-breaking report said he collapsed after a powerful injection of Demerol. Surprise, surprise! Television specials have already begun to air. One even called itself “The Life and Death of Michael Jackson. This seemed strange, especially considering they haven’t done the autopsy yet. That will happen tomorrow, and we will probably find out the awful truth we can all feel in our gut.

I decided to turn on the television for the first time in a few months. I turned on the local ABC affiliate. Sure enough, I caught the end of a special. I instinctively felt annoyed at just catching the end, but reminded myself that we would probably hear tons about Michael Jackson over the next few weeks, in fact we will probably get sick of hearing the name, if we haven’t already. I pressed the channel-up button, and found another special. Now it started getting surreal. I hit channel-down twice, and found another.

A family lawyer acted very emotional, warning the family of Jackson’s use of prescription pain killers. He said that if this turned out true, he would speak out. During the commercial, they played an ad for the antidepressant Cymbalta. At least, I assume that it advertised an antidepressant, because it had a warning about suicidal thoughts in a small percentage of patients. This seemed rather disrespectful. Can we please not see ads for prescription medications while getting bumbled with the latest news about Michael Jackson and how he may have died from them? No taste! My finger accidentally hit one of the numbers on the remote control, and it randomly flipped to another channel. Guess what? Another special. I apprehensively turned back to the other one with the lawyer. They played the disturbing interview from Sixty Minutes and that did it, I turned the TV off, I had had my fill. Seeing him likening sleeping with children to something Jesus would have done just seemed like too much.
While I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, I understand the range in reactions. “Burn in hell pedophile.” says the first comment on one article about his death. “No tears here over the death of a pedophile.” writes a friend of mine on Twitter. I included that ridiculous rhyme at the top for a reason. Nevertheless, I can feel the collective reeling, which I think answers my question about why this story holds my attention. 22.61% of tweets currently contain the phrase “Michael Jackson” or “MJ”. The world is changed. Life has gotten weirder. Who
knows, maybe the Illuminati faked his death to generate enough news over the next few weeks while they crash our economy, and in return Michael Jackson could live a guilt-free debt-free life. I wish I had some MJ, and I don’t mean the King of Pop!