GOOD MORNING MOON
Good Night Sun. —can you imagine? The difference between passing away and passing down is there is no difference between passing away and passing down. Like a new moon. Or the element of surprise— it's not nonexistent. But like a cloud. In an age of inversion, I would tell this story another way. Passed down, generation by generation, there must be another way. The way this was passed down to me is thus: Do you ever feel like you should ask more questions? Good Morning Moon was the first book I read through. A morning story to wake with a headful of moon. Thanks to the gamified Kindergarten reading program that got me going. Imagine the world we’ll wake to when we’re way-past powering all with emissionless electricity sources. Hmm? Imagine Utility ogres and centralized power brokers emerging from under interconnection bridges they blocked— to steal it all back. What then, moon? What are you for? To power the world with the force of the wind and sun, and then find, the systems they're built on were already foresold to our same old foes. Imagine, we’d have to invent a new form of renewable power to rival the sun’s. Here’s where we need you to join us, lunarpunk. Hear how history rhymes Ida Tarbell and Amy Westervelt. Investigating, giving. Truth. Have you listened to the Drilled podcast yet like grandpa said? Now do you trust the sun? The moon? It was always ever only going to change when we change the structure, not the source. People who get it trend to be closer to the problem, of course. There is a moon for everything (phase, phase, phase). Hey, whenever you get a chance, reply to my text. The medium is the message, after all. We’re planning a massive drag ball— you in? Category is: Model UN. But. Actually fixing the world’s problems. Pose not pretend. Yelling/laughing/screaming/crying. What’s the meaning of this? We must hold the truth for a world that will not hold it (anything?) back. Entropy is no universal force but the fingers of men in places they shouldn't be. Your night eyes glow with the bioluminescence of a real enchanted forest, as all forests are. Right now, the way this works appears to be backwards. The upheld center central centrifuge spins. But instead of all-creating, it’s all-consuming: fire. Fumes. Flaming. At the side of my face. Burning. Incandescent rage. Learning by so many forewarnings. What was passed down from one generation. What was passed down from another generation. From what I've gathered, it's already the future. Like the family tree. (At least the part I could see). In all its hive mind collective glory. The tree had different ideas. About how growth worked. Survival, cause, and effect. So they took it and grew everyway which. Here, I meant to say something important on Inheritance and Inhabitance (all of it). Pointing at the horizon, I'm not one to say that's not my job, but here, that’s my line. Demand trendlines are not my god but measurements guide the job I’ll say I have, which is to push the line. The way they could power the world with so much sun and still oppress everyone. Now you must understand why I don’t only work for sustainable energy, but against the machine. For lunar power, accessible, interconnected, self-determined, and free. A more just dream. So my job is to push the line towards not lunar energy, but towards punks. To the collective historically neglected fighting to be free. For floral power lines budding in moonlight. Transmitting across spacetime grids systemically. To crescent; to reach for the dream in and out of the lack of it. Imagine pointing towards the (any!) horizon and saying the (any!) truth. Good Morning Moon.
— Adam Powers