it was useless to wax enthusiastic about the incidence of saturday to my family as they were terminally unexcited about anything and never could see what the big deal was about things like beauty or transcendence or the sublime. or even about earthly beauty nor the uselessness of transcendence or sublimation from base things to something "higher." they were born again but they were not especially excited even about that. and not on a saturday anyway it was sunday when we dutifully gathered to pray to the stuffy confines of a southern baptist church out of which all signs of passion had been abstracted into architectural quotations of modernism--the 'new' sanctuary having been built in the early 60s was very much up-to-date with acute angles into which plain wood rushed in long straight lines to signify something like rectitude but only very cleanly and without baroque distractions.
now it is saturday afternoon getting on towards evening and I am hanging out waiting for pills to melt sufficiently to allow me to sleep without drooling them on my pillow. the real saturday night will begin sometime between 11 and 1am most likely and although I do not spin around for saturdays anymore I am at least free to do with them whatever I will. later or at some other point somewhere I will talk about finally meeting the spirit of saturday and how even though it could have killed us all it was not something I will relinquish in memory for as long as I have memory not to relinquish I will know that saturday is a holy day for those of us without a prayer for much else. the ritual has changed with age but the plasticity that characterizes a perception set free from didacticism can make itself apparent in numerous ways. some are for the young and some are for the.. not quite as young as that.
Saturn at equinox
they both spin.