Wednesday, 13 February 2013

another ramble

All it needs is a subpar plot and a fairly predictable love story and yeah. Bay cuts incredibly fast, maybe 1.5 second averages and everyone pushes up the faders when people cheer which makes the picture a little overdone and melodramatic but who cares. I am literally on the other side of the world and I feel so close to you. All the shooting and running and yelling is a little noisy but there’s heart in it somewhere and that’s worth something. The Queen Mary seemed a little out of place, a little pre-rigged and Hollywood but that’s alright. What I think I miss is the thought of you waiting for me but I’m flying too fast to let myself REALLY miss the past because the roar of the wind in my ears is deafening and it’s true, I don’t miss the past, I miss you. Sometimes the rush sounds like your voice when you’re at your most charming, when you’re tired and relaxed and happy. You whisper and your voice gets soft and low and warm and I feel a pang of something deep in my chest because I like it, or I guess I used to like it because it was familiar and it was mine. Some trigger rubs some mechanism the wrong way, or maybe the right way — and it doesn’t hurt, it just feels intense. So I drag myself around saying I’m not a captain or somebody built for this kind of action but maybe I am and maybe I’m more of a leader than somebody who does everything wrong and doesn’t care. Maybe I have more going for me than I realize. You’re pretty and it’s fire with enthusiasm because it hits a nerve in me. I am driving through the inside of a mountain, only driving is loosely-termed because there are no tires or wheels but rather steel and iron and I think there are magnets involved. The mountains remind me of where you live and I have a thing where I sometimes think about what the people I know would say if they were with me seeing the things I see. I forget I’m not the only person in the world seeing things that are dying to be seen but it’s still something I think about and I wish you were here so I could know what you’re thinking, and also so I could hold you. Sometimes that becomes more important than what I think about because it hits some emotion like a hammer on a nail that isn’t lined up correctly and it always goes awry. Sometimes it doesn’t look real. What do we do.