That movie had a thin blade of cruelty running through it. It reminded me why we invented these superpowers, what they meant to us, how we used them in the halls of elementary school between the water fountain and the bathroom, creating a new flourescent reality out of what was simply school.

Today when I dove in the pool after a haircut, a small halo of cut hairs rose up around my head. I was just waking up.

The superpower I would give you, could I give you one, is permanence. The one I most abhor is speed.

Thomas, take out your rowboat, and look hard at the landed lights from where you sit. Do you see the party you're missing? Do you see the dance brigade and all the tattooed lights?

Colin, this is what we wove for ourselves and now we'd better wear it. This is the world we were creating all that time. I think I might've let a few of my fears sneak into you. The girl up against the banister, the bottleneck song, our assumption that we somehow knew what was evil.

A message to my friends: on a night of no phone calls, on a pre-scribbled paper, at one or three or some more pleasant hour, write me. I miss you and I never write.

That movie had a thick gulch of cruelty in it. It was like a cast being taken off my broken arm: the dead lake smell, the end of itching.

If I could give you a superpower it would be here, now. If I could give myself one it would be escape. I saw in this movie what locks I would need to melt, what conversations kill.

If I am frightened of one thing it is future hospitals. I would give you all superpowers to stay out of them: Colin, Elanor, Thomas, Peter, the scattered glasses of my love.

posted by Adam at 1:05 AM [edit]