From Robyn on Patreon
The dead astronaut seems to be an archetype in science fiction mythology. I first ran across it in a story by J.G. Ballard. The deceased spaceman makes me think of the mummified body of an Egyptian royal: both are departed humans in transit to the next world, rather than mulching down in the soil or being vapourised in a crematorium. Orbiting the earth in an airless capsule or journeying to eternity deep in the chamber of a pyramid, the traveling corpse continues to explore the future. I sometimes picture the dead pharaohs of Los Angeles mummified in endless traffic jams, cellphones still clutched in their bony fingers.
The dead astronaut in this song was a high achiever, as all astronauts have to be: you need to be high-functioning to go into space. We are all on the path to Unbeing, by our very nature. I can feel the pull of infinity in my bones, spine twisting from a lifetime spent holding a guitar. We hack our way through life, desperately striving to chisel a few crumbs of immortality from the slab of existence. Whatever you do comes back to haunt you, yet everything you do will be forgotten: how do you like them apples?
Tombstones in old graveyards often refer to the departed as being asleep, ‘at rest’. Maybe the sleep that comes to us - with luck - at the end of each day is a metaphor for the cycle of death and re-birth; who knows? And who knows whether the astronaut in this song is dead, or just asleep?