Everytime I think of that song "New Moon On Monday," I think of how it represents a new trip to the Earth's moon. For example, the Apollo 8 flight to orbit the Moon was the first time humans had made such a trip, thus it was a new experience. The Apollo 17 landing wasn't the first landing, but it was a new trip. And then the Saturn moon Phoebe was a new experience because it was the next moon that humans had visited after those Apollo flights to Earth's moon.
I was examining those photos of Phoebe from the "King Lear" play and I started to wonder if I selected Thedia as my mother in my artificial identity because of a slight resemblance to Phoebe. That play, I believe, was scheduled specifically to point to my birthday, as well as the 0.5933 relationship of key dates. There is also that blouse Phoebe is wearing in the photo. What I know for certain is that it resembles a comforter I slept under for several years during this deployment that keeps me away from her. I lost that comforter, as well as a lot of other symbolic possessions in a storage building, when I became homeless in 2005. I have a theory that the blouse, and my comforter, are similar in pattern to the dress she wore at our wedding. I have been thinking a lot about a Duran Duran album known as the "Wedding Album," which released sometime after Phoebe and I married. I think she and I married in private on 3/10/1989, but I'm not certain. I get the feeling I get stuff wrong sometimes. There is also the thought that occurred to me that I might acutally be remembering dreams that I had before my memories were suppressed and I have forgotten that it was a dream and it seems like it was reality.
I also assume she had her hair pulled back because her hair was very short when we married. That is consistent with my artificial and symbolic memories of that actual year when I had a girlfriend I liked a lot named Rachel. I examined my artificial memories of Rachel and I thought I had stolen her from another guy because she was living with someone else when we started dating. But what that actually represents is the ruse I created to deflect attention away from us being married in secret. It is bad enough to be a celebrity when you have such stalker-paparazzi as Microsoft-Corbis, KOMO4, KING5, etc., but it is especially bad to be a celebrity and to married to my real identity. If I wasn't so damned selfish and in love with her, I would have let her go a long time ago. I can't though and I never will.
In my artificial and symbolic memory, I can still visualize that last day I saw Rachel. She walked out of my apartment on the morning of Halloween, which is a curious detail to "remember," and I never saw her again. I did come home a couple days later and she had left a message on my answering machine, but she never called me back, to my disappointment and I didn't know how to get in touch with her. But that is confusing because I knew where her parents lived although I had never met them. I think I was too scared to go over there to their house. She left that message for me because it was my birthday and somehow, I know she was annoyed that I wasn't home and she imagined that I was out with some other woman when she thought I should be there at home waiting for her to call me. I had actually been called to First Federal to repair an ATM machine and afterwards, I was sitting at a Hardee's with a bank employee named Maria Coleman and talking about how much I liked Rachel.
I don't understand why I never went to her parents house though to ask about her even though I really wanted to see her for a long. All these memories must be symbolic and I don't think they represent literal events. Or maybe some are close to literal events and others are more of abstract notions. For example, I do "remember" that I drove up to her parents house, but just about that time, and I can still visualize this, I was sitting in my burgundy Plymouth Voyager car and I dropped a cigarette under that seat and I though it was going to catch on fire so I poured some liquid under the seat. I am thinking that actually has something to do with a fighter jet I was in, but I have no idea when it was. Maybe 1982. Don't know. Maybe that is where the scar on my wrist came from. I have been thinking for a long time that I was hit by a piece of schrapnel from anti-aircraft fire and that is where the scar comes from. In my artificial and symbolic memory, which I can still visualize, I was sitting in a day-care center when I was about 7 and one of the workers dropped some hot apple pie off a plate and it landed on my wrist causing a burn which left a scar. I might have created that artificial memory because it was a wound sustained in combat and there is that expression that associates America with apple pie. Or I remember being tortured as a POW and that was something they said to me as that burned something into my wrist, not unlike the power drill into my hand.
It is as though certain aspects of my identity were locked into a room in my mind long ago. The doctors came into the outer room on 5/9/2006 to unlock that last door and they thought they were going to walk into that last room to find my lying down asleep where they would wake me up but as soon as they walked in and turned on the light, they saw me staring out the little window of that last door, waiting all this time for someone to let me the hell out.
I am actually quite certain I would be all right if I saw Phoebe at some point standing in front of me. I just feel the timing is wrong. There is something I am supposed to remember first so that I can say it to her when I see her. I can always say anything, such as "Hello" but I am supposed to remember something specific. Otherwise, I would just search awkwardly for something to say, such as "Do you know me" or "Am I your husband" or "Is your name Phoebe?" Something tells me I am supposed to know something more specific before I see her, or something like that. I will know the time is right when it happens. I hope it's later today. But still, I don't know yet what I am supposed to know. It's possible that, just as in that 5/7/2006 episode "Regarding Margie," she could just come up to me and tell me she is my wife and then we go from there. But I don't know. There is still the aspect to all this that I am working. There is the assignment to complete and I can't go home until I complete my assignment.
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: Re: Finally
Wed, 5/10/06 2:45 PM
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[2nd message]It'll take damn near a century to get this unscrewed right.
[3rd message]the worst time is seeing the plane flying over and waiting..........
