The engine purrs into my bones seeping into my skin filling my veins with gasoline adrenaline and fumes all telling me that this is a bad idea but it’s better than thinking of a good idea while sitting still and doing nothing pen flicking in your wrist I accelerate too fast to soon Wally you’re moving too fast too soon flicking the wheel in a pendulum turn I never learn never back down from a fight try to do what’s right this is my second chance second life to be someone that puts other people first no more slipping on wet pavements no more burnt out tires the radio keeps playing the same old songs and I am tired of listening to them cut to the chase back in the days I would be the one running sirens blasted the music I had on repeat out on the streets nothing to gain life was a game my mother was the price I paid for gambling too much— mom, I’m sorry. I love you and I want you to be proud Central City needs my help take my ego out of my head take my pride out of my chest make me a better man I want to be better elevate me to a higher plane only this speed is keeping me sane keeping me at my best engines of motivation this is where my drive comes from no time to rest no one ever asks The Flash why he saves people they just know the same way he knows the same way I know it’s what I need to do the city is a minefield of criminals and thugs let me work through this grid follow the lights trace the lines fight the good fight into the black night I hear the call of a siren luring me in this is a bad idea zooming in at two hundred miles an hour but it’s better than thinking of a good idea while sitting still pen flicking in your wrist
There are a pair of socks on the floor. One pink, one green. Stacked on top of the other like discarded wings on the ground. Another pair of wings stick comfortably on my wall. Bright red origami piece of a butterfly. Made it myself. Made it at a time when I couldn’t really cope with life and an origami book impulsively purchased from Waterstones was the first step in my recovery.
When carriages start to look like film rolls,
rivers start bending into veins and my God—
is there anything more selfish than trying to shape our God-given landscape into a possession of your own?
This isn’t an Oculus Rift,
take some time off to wipe the lens of your glasses clean. Rose-tinted stains are better
than rose-tinted dreams.
The engine chortles underneath your feet, drums its way into your heart and reminds you that you are the one trapped inside a Major Motion Picture.
The train takes the long way back,
perhaps in fear of ending too soon (as if any of the other passengers were paying attention).
Sunlight is trapped between the trees and the hills, nestling its way between the creaks and the river-bends and the vein-bends and every frame
You’re moving a third of the speed you’re used to and seeing a third more of the things you usually do.
Like the how the dips in the hills remind you of the curve of your waist,
and how the shadows and light streaks on the crisp yellow grass form an elongated crochet pattern
similar to the one your mother used to make.
Every time I find myself scrawling the letter “S” in the blank pages of my notebook, I stop and tell myself: “It’s not an S, on Krypton it’s a symbol of hope.”
And then I hear Lois Lane telling me that on this planet, it very much is an S.
Anyway, my point. There isn’t one, really. I was just lying in bed in the middle of the night (23:21) thinking about how much I love Superman, and then I think about how much I love Supergirl, and then I think about how different my life is to theirs and I realize they’re not real but I want them to be real.
As Dawn of Justice dawns (ha) I decided to re-watch Man of Steel the other night. It was a crappy putlocker stream so I can’t say that it was 100% magical but it was probably around the 80-85% range. If you know me, you probably know that I have defended this movie from the second it came out. Dark and gritty Superman, who could love that? What happened to all the hope, why were the colours unsaturated, why is Zack Synder on a personal mission to destroy half of Metropolis?
7:15. I write because it’s early in the morning and the amount of energy required to make actual conversation with actual people is less appealing than the thought of just spilling my thoughts onto a blank page. I write because blank pages need to be filled. I write because I want to mould something out of nothing. Sometimes I write just for the novelty of it. Sometimes I write because I have to.
I write because the world is too big, there are too many people and too many stories and I feel like my voice is drowning in a of a crowd of 7 billion people and I, selfishly, want my voice to be heard. The more I write the more plausible it seems, the possibility of me being someone important.
I also write because the world is too small, really. Not the physical world, measured by the size of the earth and the world population that keeps on multiplying by the second– no, I mean the type of world that we’re not a part of but we wish we were. The fictional world. I write because there needs to be more of that. I write because I read stories and think, “What happens next?” Or I look at characters and I ask myself, “What would happen if–” and then I make it happen. I write to make things happen. In a world full of limits, the feeling of creating one without any is the most gratifying feeling in the world. I write because I am free.
7:30. I am now sitting in an auditorium in school about to pick up an award. The speaker at the podium tells everyone to be quiet. I look into my phone and keep writing because I can.
It’s been a year and a half since I first started this blog in 2014, and well, I think it’s time to re-introduce myself. After all, a lot has changed since the first intro post I made.
So I watched Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation two weeks ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Okay, so maybe I’ve seen in 3 times since it came out. Doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about it.
The Mission Impossible franchise is one of the longest running action movie franchises in Hollywood, with its first movie dating back to 1996. 19 years. 5 movies. 1 Tom Cruise. In an age where Marvel has built an empire out of 12 movies in less than 8 years (the Marvel Cinematic Universe kicking off in 2008 with Iron Man) it’s interesting to compare how the Mission Impossible franchise has evolved, survived, and also– improved, throughout the years.
Mission: Impossible (1996)
The first instalment in the series, and an adaptation of the original 1966-1973 TV series (I know, I just found out too) which, surprisingly, wasn’t received too well by the original cast of the TV show. They thought that the movie veered closer towards the action-adventure genre, thus taking away from the classic “mind game” of the original Mission. It wasn’t held to critical acclaim, but it wasn’t terrible either. I, personally, enjoyed the movie, but nothing particularly stood out to me as genre-defining or #iconic, except maybe the scene from the screencap above, yeah. It was a standard contemporary action-spy flick, with neo-noir elements that gave it some form of character, but what really brought it to heights was Tom Cruise.
In MCU terms, you could liken him to Robert Downey Jr. in the sense that he is the driving force behind the series. Granted, not all 11 MCU movies feature Iron Man, but he brought spark to the franchise, building the foundation for subsequent movies and acting as a very, very reliable anchor. (An anchor that keeps the $$$ in place, that is.)