The Final Countdown

The space shuttle ‘Discovery’ had its final lift-off this week. One last mission before it becomes a museum attraction. A relic. History. Twentieth century boy. In the museum of humanity and its thirst for exploration, one last promising ‘pot’. Soon to be for sale. Up for grabs. Like Aladdin’s magic lamp.

The 21st century so far is disappointing.

The ‘noughties’ are over. We’re in the ‘tweens now. Growing pains. Rebellion.

The genie remains in the bottle. Sealed.

Rub me the right way?

The final frontier. Well, an afterthought. On hold.

Is anyone out there listening?

I think not.

Bach hasn’t worked its wonders.

‘Open Sesame’ is no more. To boldly go. Or now, not.

More or less engaging with one’s shadow. Beneath the tan, the battle rages. The sun has been stolen from my heart.

Eclipse.

Sun and moon shadow.

Steppin’ in to Eden, yeah, brother. Poison planet. The apple of knowledge, little more than strychnine.  Love at first bite? Turn left.

Supermassive black hole.

The International Space Station will still be around. As will Richard Branson’s ‘voyages’. A short tour around the Earth. If the price is right.

I do like Mach 5. I like speed. I’m a space junkie.

These were the voyages.

I met Robert Crippen, former shuttle Columbia commander, years ago. Incredibly cool. I’ve met many people who have worked on the US space program. Engineers, technologists, astronauts.

A dream come tue for space-consumed me.

Potential astronaut. Either that, or an actress. Well, I’m a writer.

Even better.

A very sad day to learn that the shuttle adventures would end. As would Mars adventures. The red, mysterious planet.  A neighbour. Can you spare a cup of sugar? The welcoming night sky.  I see the Big Dipper outside my door. The cold, winter sky. Beckoning.  Not the Aurora Borealis. Not my view. My city lights are dim. The red planet.  Brilliant, beaming. Left, for another time, another generation. The mysterious ‘face’. The red beacon, in the night. Martian fantasies. Mainly through movies. Mars attacks, or does it. Imagination into overdrive. It’s almost 2012.  I am not alone. Mayan Calendar. World ends. More like rebirth. I miss the ‘X Files’.

Time for a re-set.

‘Voyager’ has been forgotten. So 1978.

It’s all about Brandenburg #3.

Anyone listening?

Calling occupants.

I’ve got a ticket to ride.

And no, I don’t get spacesick.

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~ by hooklineandthinker on February 27, 2011.

 
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