The stars like dust encircle me
in loving mists of light,
and all of space I seem to see
in one vast burst of sight.
I remember the quote because of a small encounter I had over ten years ago while I was waiting tables. I had a young, kind of nerdy man sitting in my section. He was awkward and a little tense so I made an effort to draw him out by asking him what he did, et al. He was an astronomy student, getting his PhD. At the time I was in an astronomy class so I chatted with him about nebula, gamma rays, breadth of galaxies. It was a short interaction. When he left I went to clear his table and he had left me an extraordinarily large tip. On the receipt he had written the Asimov quote and a short note thanking me for making his day with our conversation. I pinned the receipt to my wall at home and thus memorized the quote. I wonder if the young man remembers our conversation.
Insomnia again is monster. Late last night I watched Orion creep across the sky. I made myself take a sleeping pill. The effects wore off around 4am and I was wide awake and went to look at the pre-dawn constellations. If only I could write at the hours my mind roams. But I always think I'll be able to fall asleep again as soon as I wake up and I stare at the ceiling for hours, the light at the edges of the window changing.
Last night before I went to be bed I read a couple of old journals. Reading one was pretty wrenching. My heart was freshly broken, days maybe. Every pain was on the page, all of my anger, shock. I was boxing a little back then, I think now only that physical discipline kept me from completely unraveling. In the scope of the journal I dissect what went wrong in my relationship, the emotional shortcomings of the man I had been loving. The journal went with me to Cuba where I did my best to embrace the experience but my heart wasn't in it. The journal came home with me. B made his first appearance in my journal. Deciding to move out of my old place also was on the pages.
I haven't journaled in years. I looked at the last journal entry I made, August 19, 2009. I should, I know I should but so much of the same crap is in the pages. Reading through the pages I see my patterns, the same tired ruts I wheel myself through again and again in hopes that maybe the next go around the scenery will change. I should write about that.