Narry a day might pass, here in the lab, that I am not acquainted to a new and interesting facet of surface life, even after my many years cruising-scuttling-soaring-and-reclining so far from the embrace of the Sea's Deep Crush. On a recent Thursday morn, it was to the quaint tradition of the washing of high rise windows— with their traditional rope-pulley-platforms and longstalked squeeqe-squeaks— that I was well met. While I was, for my part, caught of the surprise and did indeed panic in the minor (even releasing a small volume of ink, I feel shame to say), the window-squeegeurs reacted with non-nonchalance and a general dispassion in seeing me. I imagine many sights assault them, as they clean the windows, matters distasteful and indelicate, of embarrassment and the privacy invaded, so there would indeed be a self-selection in such a field for those calm of demeanor, as whole as anti-afeared of the highness above.

But, this recent visit by the arachno-style window washers to my level of the Centre de Renaissance has made a much more important doubleset of revelations clear (pun, viz. windows, much intended):

Revelation the First: The airs high above this City of Motors are far from free of debris, detritus and particulate matters generally obscuring all surfaces, especially those otherwise clear and transparent.

Revelation the Second: the two circles enlummed I watch track across the surface-less hemi-sky daily and nightly are indeed distinct, both from the remainder of the hemi-sky and from one-the-other, and quite fetching in their own right. My previous accommodations (the windowless offices in CinCinAtti, the murkblue of Lake the Superior, the Oceans Deep and Troubling) lacked any visual access to this much vaunted "Sky" and its populants, and so my observations there-of were extremely limited and, truth told, rather slippery to the shod (of my own blame) Add to this the extreme obscuring grubbiness of these my first windows to the sky and, in short, I have given matters celestial far less than their due consideration— a matter I now, as my ignorance wanes, grow to regret in the extreme.

Now being possessed of a clean and clear "Eastern Exposure," I am delighted to report the confirmed existence and consistent presence of a great and terrible circle which from there rises, luminous in the extreme, frequently sheathing this far flung city-river-city-scape in a salivatingly rich and visceral rouge, tending down the wavelength spectra through the many subtle tones of sweat and sinew, blood and bile, gut and gall, delectable pain to dizzying, terror-tinged salty-sweets. This bright coin continues its progress up-by-southward, until a time near to the luncheon hour of my several lab assistants and general staff, at which time it passes up beyond the upmost reaches of my windows and, I presume, continues its sky-cross progress to some point behind the structure in which I dwell— the supposition bolstered by the simple fact of this circle's return at my visible horizon some 9 hours hence— by what path, I know not.

The secondary circle is of a coldwhitecolorless light, inconsistent and inconstant in both its rise, passage, path and form— in the matter of this last tending through a variety of circles, hemi-circles, semi-circles, quasi-circles, oblongs, ellipses and sickles in a (presumably) set rhythm and pattern I have yet to fathom. On occasion, it is sky-present simultaneously with the Primary Fiery Ring, and on other occasions absent entirely altogether for the duration of both brightday and darknight.

My lab assistant Rob, ever helpful in these astronomical matters, has explained that these circles are actually sphere-o-orbs (strange though it sounds), and they reside fully apart from and above the earth and its illusive hemi-sky, which itself circles the one orb (that being the DazzleSun) and is in turn encircled by the other (SootheMoon)— a fanciful notion, these circo-spheres circling circo-spheres, but giving due consideration to the fanciful nature of the observed phenomenon, I give the explanation credulity for the time being. I gently suggested, upon first receiving this strange theory, that raw observation clearly held that both these orbs do encircle the earth (itself a globe, I am told, though un-luminous— and those global nature would indeed work to explain the topography of some of the more quixotic maps brought to my collection by dutiful Sang, Head of All Demands Archituethic here about the lab and offices), but Rob was quiet adamant in that his explanation was fair and true, and I thus demure for the time being.

These, then, are your Sun and Moon, of which I had heard much spoken ("Let him have his moment in the sun," "While the sun shines you had best make hay," "Let my go now, like a blister in the sun," as well as "it is only the paper moon," "I would buy you the Moon," and "Bang! Zoom! Toward the Moon!") but had previously seen not, and thus took to be fanciful items solely used in metaphor, such as the molasses slow, the mule stubborn or the eskimo purchaser of refrigeration boxes, lacking any true material life, and existing only in language and its subterranean steam tunnels, morlocks of the tongue.

But, these Sun and Moon, put simply, are magnificent and fascinating, and it is in these moments of discovery and explication true that I most value my new life here on the searing dry surface.

Explanation tendered, I present, the alamanc(k) item de june: Utilizing new calculations of Sun's velocity and this sphere-earth's circumference, I have prepared the following chart of apparent Sun's risings above and settings below the apparent earth-edge for this coming month of Juno, Goddess of the Hearth. This table factual should be of good use to all land-dwellers under the thrall of this fiery ball, as its light will abrogate the need for artificial illuminants (prettily sparkling though they be, nightwise, along the streets and river of my Motored City.) Please print this and post it publicly, for general reference and elucidation. (Nota Bene: I have put the matter of the Moon aside, awaiting further observations into the future.)

The Month of June

DATE IN THE MONTH OF JUNO,	SUNRISES (COMFIRMED WITH OBSERVATION AND CALCULATION)	SUNSETS (HYPOTHESIZED APPROXIMATIONS)	DAYLIGHT MINUTES in a Reasonable Day
1	0458	2002	904
2	0458	2003	905
3	0457	2004	907
4	0457	2005	908
5	0457	2005	908
6	0456	2006	910
7	0456	2007	911
8	0456	2007	911
9	0455	2008	913
10	0455	2008	913
11	0455	2009	914
12	0455	2010	915
13	0455	2010	915
14	0455	2010	915
15	0455	2011	916
16	0455	2011	916
17	0455	2012	917
18	0455	2012	917
19	0455	2012	917
20	0455	2012	917
21	0455	2013	918
22	0456	2013	917
23	0456	2013	917
24	0456	2013	917
25	0457	2013	916
26	0457	2013	916
27	0457	2013	916
28	0458	2013	915
29	0458	2013	915
30	0459	2013	914

Now, recalling the general utility and convenience of this floating skyball providing light, and the cost savings there-in provided, I am struck by the general obstinent quality of the time tracking method used, which provides little anchoring to the nigh unto fifteen hours of freelight. I thus am now suggesting a rationalized system of time keeping, containing 10 "reasonable hours", anchored at its head by the Sun's rise and its tail by the Sun's rest. On the occasions that I suggest Rob take up a task which might bring him into the lab afore Sun's rise, he oft grumbles that this is a "unreasonable hour" for activity— as such, I presume that, in the common parlance, it is the sunwise hours which are "reasonable"— a good and noble piece of verbiage, to me signaling that my grunt-monkey co-land-mates are indeed prepared for such a system of rational time.

Thus, please find below a chart of the "reasonable hours" for this most auspiciously solistial month:

The Month of June

DATE OF THE MONTH OF JUNO	LENGTH OF EACH "REASONABLE HOUR," IN MINUTOS
1	90.4
2	90.5
3	90.7
4	90.8
5	90.8
6	91.0
7	91.1
8	91.1
9	91.3
10	91.3
11	91.4
12	91.5
13	91.5
14	91.5
15	91.6
16	91.6
17	91.7
18	91.7
19	91.7
20	91.7
21	91.8
22	91.7
23	91.7
24	91.7
25	91.6
26	91.6
27	91.6
28	91.5
29	91.5
30	91.4

Take Solace (pun!) In These,

Your Giant Squid