HARLEQUIN MOON
That harlequin moon
Makes me so melancholy
Fills me full of folly
Because I am just a loon,
For loving:
That Harlequin moon.
From: ‘Harlequin Moon.’ Written and recorded by: Ella Pass
URANIUM CITY, EARTH, 2013
I have always only ever wanted the moon. This may seem strange, since it is up there, in the sky, every night, for everyone to see. But I do not just want to see the moon. I want the moon. If I could have it, I would be happy.
I wanted it so much that I built a rocket to go get the moon.
I am not the first person to want the moon, or to want to go to the moon. In fact people have even been there and experienced her beauty first hand.
In 1969 Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.
NASA built a big rocket to transport the astronauts to the moon. And they build a smaller rocket to go home again. That was their mistake, going home. Who would ever want to leave the moon?
American space-men and space-woman are called astronauts. In Russia they call them cosmonauts. In china they call them taikonauts
‘Asto’ and ‘Cosmo’ and ‘Taiko’ means space. They are space travelers.
But for me space is only a highway to get to the moon.
Me? I am a Lunanaut: a Moon traveler.
As a child my parents were happy that I was interested in space. NASA had a space program, and it was still relevant. They were glad that I was interested in such an academic field, and not just a dead beat. They thought I had all sorts of potential.
I am Canadian. Canadians build the canadarm.
My parents were kind enough to send me to space camp when I was 10. I hated it, I don’t care about space, I only wanted the moon.
I built my first rocket in the basement when I was 13. It was six inches in diameter, and approximately one meter in length. I made it out of galvanized air duct, and filled it with gasoline. There was approximately 17L of gasoline in my rocket.
I lit the rocket with a fuse made out of a party sparkler. My gasoline filled galvanized rocket blew up. The fire burned down my back yard and some shrapnel killed the neighbor’s dog.
So much for potential.
After my experience with my first rocket, it became clear to me that I could never build a functioning rocket ship myself. But this really was of no concern. I wanted the moon, and I would have her.
My parents shipped me off to boarding school after I had killed the neighbor’s dog.
It was at the boarding school on the west coast that I first heard ‘Harlequin Moon’ by the jazz singer Ella Pass.
She had it all wrong though. Who could be a loon for loving the moon? It seems to me that you would be insane not to want the moon.
None the less, the song was a hit. I have decided to play it for the moon when I get there. And we will laugh at how silly the song really is.
My space suit is a modified diver’s suit, one with a big brass helmet with a porthole. I ordered it from the internet.
My space ship is a long range missile, courtesy of the US army, Via the KKK
After boarding school I moved to uranium city Saskatchewan. My parents made it pretty clear that they didn’t want some lunatic puppy killer coming home.
It was in uranium city that I contacted the good folks in the Klu Klux Klan. I convinced them that I was a nuclear physicist. I photo-shopped myself some counterfeit university degrees and PhD’s.
I convinced the folks at the KKK that I had the knowledge and knowhow to outfit any long-range missile with nuclear explosives from the uranium in uranium city.
I told the KKK that there was uranium just lying about, up here in uranium city.
Before the KKK would trust me I had to prove that I was in line with their ideology.
This was easy. I showed them my blog on the internet.
The content of my blog was that I was tired of all the immigrants coming in and taking the white folk’s jobs. There were lots of quotes from the Bible.
Get this: they believed me. The real truth is that I am completely apathetic towards all of human kind. They are not coming to the moon with me, and I wouldn’t take them if they asked.
On the moon I will eat protein/vitamin pills. These pills are something I invented. They have all sorts of nutrients and protein, all in a small repository capsule.
I have learned to function on one repository capsule a week, inserted up my anus. I have enough capsules to last me for ten years, at one capsule a week.
The folks at the KKK decided to ship me a long range US army missile. There are some rather high up people in the KKK.
The missile came in parts on a big truck. Some assembly was required.
I turned it into a rocket ship. How? Simply take out the payload and insert one Lunanaut.
I programmed the trajectory using an iPhone.
Some people on an internet form provided the mathematics and coding for the trajectory.
I launch on July first: Canada day. With my payload of repository capsules, one lunanaut, and an Ella pass record.
My rocket is ready to launch, standing silver and phallic against a rising moon. My Moon.
Today is June 30.
END OF TRANSMISSION
~
APOLLO II LANDING SITE, MOON, 2013
It took 4 or 5 days to get to the moon. I can’t tell. Time is fickle in space. But I am here. I made it.
My testicles and knees where crushed during the launch. The pain is excruciating.
I can see the wavy American flag. I want to go and pull it out of the ground but I cannot move. I am crushed between sheets of metal.
I can move my right arm.
I can still eat through a special valve in the seat of my Luna-suit.
I tried to play ‘Harlequin moon’ by Ella Pass. But there is no sound on the moon.
I forgot to bring water.
The moon no longer interests me. It is cold and grey and pockmarked. It silver attractiveness was just a lie. It was just glamour.
Anyway, I have a new desire, that big blue and white orb that fills the ever-night sky. I know that if it was mine, I would be happy.
END OF TRANSMISSION
sunnyanddelightful 
Damn good