To Whom it May Concern,
I would like it to be stated officially and irrevocably: I don’t do days. I used to be a sun worshipper, but three experiences taught me the error of my ways. When I was fifteen I spent two weeks at a cottage on Pigeon Lake. Two of my buddies and I took a canoe into the middle of the lake and engaged in an activity called power burning. A canoe floating the a lake acts like parabolic magnifying glass. We lay for hours until we turned the right shade of boiled lobster. We wound up suffering from dehydrated delusions for a day and a half and we peeled for weeks. I never tanned again. I didn’t need to.
Four years later I jumped on the cycling craze. It wasn’t a means of transportation as much as an obsession. I also loved the spandex. The only problem with spandex is that you think it looks better on you than it actually does. I was such a gearhead I thought I looked awesome. Then I came crashing back to reality. Literally. One bright bright summer evening I cycled home from work along a wooded street on the outskirts of town. I headed west, straight into the setting sun. I never saw the buck. I’m not sure he saw me either. All I remember was his cry as I tried to ride up his antlers. After a dazed minute or so, the buck and I stared at each other. I’m not sure if I imagined it or not, but I think it laughed at me when it saw me in spandex.
I finally decided to reject all things bright and beautiful the winter of my twenty-forth year. If you’ve never experienced snow blindness, let me begin by declaring that it does exist. But instead of everything going dark, snow blindness is like being hit with a wall of pure, unblemished light. Though I couldn’t see them, the screams of the skiers around me confirmed my conviction that it’s not the sort of thing you want to experience at 12,000 feet racing down a black diamond run. I can’t say with certainty what happened before wrapping myself around a pine tree. I vaguely remember being hit by a ski pole prior to using a snowboarder as a ski jump.
It was during the following month long stay in the hospital that I reversed my days and nights. It wasn’t as difficult a transition as you might think. Nighttime held an exciting new world. I discovered thousands of other lunar connoisseurs. As it turns out, many activities are even better without the annoyance of light pollution. Most sporting events are held at night. Nightclubs are a hub of urban life.
You may adhere to the old adage carpe diem. Seize the day. I ask, what has the day ever done to deserve such reverence? Nothing! I scoff at the narrow mindedness of solar oppressors. I say carpe noche. Seize the night. Break free from great yellow menace in the sky. Give the sun the moon.