Wednesday, September 14, 2005

A true statement. A solemn feeling. A great gorramn movie.

Once upon a time.

Take my love,

Remember, back through the days. Remember back to your first kiss. But not the first kiss that you had ever experienced, not the first little peck that someone happened to slap upon your cheek without a care. Please, remember back to the first kiss that meant something.

Take my land,

The one that sucked your world away, took everything from you, only to give it back again.

Take me where I cannot stand.

The one that made your knee’s weak. To the point where motion has gone beyond anything that resembles meaning, where nothing is and everything is true and wonderful. The place where your knees fail.

I don’t care, I’m still free.

But the place where your mind is alive. Your mind, and your skin. Your skin is dancing, confused perhaps, but happy, happy, happy, happy…

You can’t take the sky from me.

I saw a film tonight. A film, a movie, a flick, a projection, a print, a camera, a page. An idea. I saw it. But oh my…oh my friends, my compatriots, my partners in crime, whatever you may be to me, whatever you may hope to be…I did so much more. I felt it.

I have felt Serenity.

Take me out to the black,

I am a man of words. They form what I am. They form what I can be. They form what I want. They form what I need. They form everything and nothing that I have ever thoughtfeltexperiencedtouchedlivedsmelledtasteddrankatedrovewalkedlivedlivedlived.

I want to write. I can never seem to truly speak my feelings, I always bottle them away, beneath that glossy veneer of sarcasm and flesh, I keep myself locked away. Few have seen my true face. As is it is, with the people around me. We all have our secrets, we all tell our lies, we’re lost in the woods. Way of the world. Right?

But when I write…oh my, oh me, oh you. I can say it. I can touch it, I can taste it. I don’t know if I write well, and I don’t fucking care, all that matters to me is in these words. This is me, and if you don’t like it…then you probably didn’t get this far. Such it is, with men like that.

I love language.

I have touched Serenity.

I want to tell you all that this means.

And I cannot seem to find my words.

Tell them I ain’t coming back.

I cannot find them. But I sure as shit wouldn’t be a Browncoat if I didn’t gorramn try.

I saw a film tonight. Oh my, oh me, oh you, oh us. I saw it, and I felt it. I felt it as much as anything that I have felt in my entire life. When I sat there in the theater, I found that my legs could simply not function. They were there, I knew they were. I had felt them as I had walked in, I had felt them as I had walked to the door, I had felt them as I placed them too my knees as I waited five hours to be the very first in line. But they were gone. And then they were forgotten.

Like that moment when those sweet sweet lips touched mine, those years ago. When my knees were gone. When my legs were gone. When they didn’t matter.

When I boiled with sensation. That was I then. This is me now. My legs were gone, are gone. And my skin is alive.

Oh my.

Burn the land and boil the sea,

Miranda, I gaze upon the searing white that is your face. The glare that you give off, it makes me wince, and yet I cannot seem to look away. Miranda, you gaze at me, and I look deep into you. I see your true face. The rot that lies within.

I remember waiting. I remember living. I remember sitting and watching, and passing the time. I saw other films, movies, flicks. I saw them, and I loved them. I saw other things. I saw people. I loved people. I saw things. You get the idea. I think you do. I think we’re getting somewhere.

I have dreamed Serenity.

And I waited. I waited for three years for this day. This day to finally come.
And here I am, this very moment, seeing it all for the first time. All of it.

The whole gorramn world.

You can’t take the sky from me.

It’s not enough to say that I cried. I cry when I think, I cry when I laugh, I cry when I catch a true glimpse of the night sky. But those have never been true tears. Those were the gentlest of mists, a hint of moisture that adorned my face. They got the point across, but they never let it out. They have always been crocodile tears, save for a few precious times in my life when it truly came forth. When my eyes opened up, and the fullest extent of that water that means as much to life as any pure rainfall came tumbling out.

When the true extent of that lifesong was set free.

I wept tonight. I might weep now. But not through horror, not through pain, not through tragedy, not through injustice, not through hate.

I wept through the purest and most sincere beauty. Because of it. Because in that place, in that world, I found it all.

There’s no place I can be,

I found my laughter. I found my tears. I found my freedom. I found my pain. I found my trust. I found my fear. I found my courage. I found my doubt. I found my belief.

I found my love damnit, my love of all things. I WANT TO SING IT TO THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD! I LIVE, I LOVE, I DREAM!

When I sat in that chair, I couldn’t even hope of moving. I wouldn’t couldn’t shouldn’t.
But now, now, now…oh my oh me oh you oh us oh Joss!

It’s a part of me now. It’s in my skin, I can feel it humming all around me. In the theatre I couldn’t move, wouldn’t couldn’t shouldn’t. Now it’s all that I can do.

I can’t stop moving, I can’t stop running my hands all over the flesh that is my face, running my fingers through the shortness of my hair, running my eyes all over the substance of the room objectsinspacebitsfluidswhat AM I???


And so are you, my dearests, so are you.

Since I found Serenity.

There it is. There it is indeed.
Once upon a time, there lived a show on a little network called Fox. The show was beaten, the show was discarded. But the show was loved. Oh, how that show was loved. The treatment left a bad taste in the hearts and minds of those who had loved it so. They tried and they cried, they did everything they could to get it back, to get rid of that feeling that tainted their memories of the show so.

Here it is.

Once upon a time, once upon a midnight dreary, I would have told you to find Serenity. To touch it for yourselves, to make it a success.

And now?

Now I don’t care. See it if you want, love it if you want, live it if you need. I’ve gone beyond that. I have found my beloved film. The best film of the year? Of course. This isn’t such a trivial matter.

This isn’t a box office gross, this isn’t a marketing ploy, this isn’t a top ten list.

This is the heart of one man reaching out to millions of others. Who believed just as he did. Who wanted something just like he did.

And now we have it. We can get more, that much is certain. But if it ends here…

We HAVE done the impossible. And oh my oh me, oh you, oh us…
Oh Joss Whedon…That makes us oh, so, mighty.

You can’t take the sky from me.

Friday, September 02, 2005

A PAX report.


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- You’re in Bellevue, Washington.

- You’re inside a huge building, teeming with the lives of thousands of different people. People that you should know, that you should welcome with open arms as if they were your very own family. As they should of you. But they don’t. And neither do you. Something is missing.

- You drink a fuck-ton of Bawls. You like the feeling of Bawls on your tongue.
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- You’re wandering about, aimlessly (but of course), until your ever watchful gaze catches a glimpse of something that few your age will ever have a chance to experience. Nor is it something the can remember. But you know, and you approach carefully, afraid to damage the relic that is the “Bezerk” arcade cabinet. You play. You play badly. But you’re happy.

- You’re inside that same huge building. Inside one giant room. And inside that room, all are united with the divine feeling that comes, whenever one watches a shitty movie. Fred Savage is on the screen, and an acre of people cheer. For he has introduced you to the splendor that is Super Mario Brothers 3. And for some reason, that goddamn Wizard kid knows where the warp whistle is.

- You sit, silently sweating in a darkened room. In the room is a village, in the village are houses, and in the houses are villagers. But something is inside the villagers as well. Something terrifying.

- You’re in Seattle, Washington. You’ve been walking to a place that you don’t know how to find. Simply because how you get there is the worthier part. You stop. You climb. Over a gate and into a place that looks as if it has been left over from some forgotten age. A childish mural scrawled before the stoop of some forgotten storefront, wedged into a padlocked alley off a major street. You like it.
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- You’re standing in front of a display, depicting a sequel to a sequel to a game that you really enjoyed. You start playing, and your best friend takes up the task of playing against you. As the two of you are locked in the battle that wages up on the immortal screen, a crowd drifts into place around the pair of you. Silently at first. So much so that you don’t even notice their presence. Until they begin to cheer. They cheer at your friends advances and they cheer at yours. A single glistening moment erupts when your friend becomes the winner. The crowd vanishes, the shinobi lifestyle apparently not foreign to them.

- You’re stopped at a gas station, asking directions. For some reason, they’re selling fried chicken. For some alternate reason, you buy some.
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- You’re walking down the streets, admiring the blackness of the sky. A patch of nerds wanders by, engaged in a fierce debate over the “Hot Coffee” controversy. Your friend brings his argument into the conversation, and the argument is quickly won by the swift sword of logic.

- You laugh.

- You drink more Bawls.
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- You remember. You remember a field, where the sun rose, and the sun set. A field that your footsteps softly tread across dozens of times before, watching and waiting and fighting and living and whistling out a tune.

- You see this field again. But things are different in the land of Hyrule. Streaks of rain now tear their way through the air, the thunderous crash decimating the peace that once graced this place during the day. But you are not afraid. You have a friend with you, that ever-so-noble steed. The horse that came galloping towards you from the graphical mist, simply because your ocarina sang Epona’s Song. You ride on. And then you hear more thundering hooves, and suddenly see the beasts riding the backs of giant wild boars. You feel the hooves shake the ground. You battle. You win. You chase the last.

- You’re sitting atop Epona, the earth of Hyrule field forgotten for the stone of a bridge that reaches across a gaping chasm. The other rider sits at the opposite end, his boar ready to charge. You charge first. Your sword strikes. You win. You try hard not to cry.

- You’re a geek, by the way.

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