26 // yes, I am aware that some of the things I wrote are really bad.
In America they catch criminals by using their brains, here we rely on our feet, except we're always drop kicking the wrong suspects. In America they search for evidence, we have no need for that here, I can know who's guilty by simply staring into their eyes, except my own eyes had betrayed me time and time again, especially at the most crucial moment. Shit, shit, shit, it's so hard to tell. Documents do not lie, except when the information…
There has been a glitch, signals lost in noise, the faces we see become blurrier until only a dark spot remains, the screams of help we hear become more and more distant until they are completely drowned out by static, now it is too quiet, like a tv switched off in the dead of night, something is very wrong, and we are so lonely.
I cried because I kept imagining what if someone in the future who has never watched or heard of ratatouille somehow found this film first. I also cried when the rock said to another rock "I'm gonna get you!" it was such a small line in such a bizarre scene but it happened as the music soared and I am so, so weak to this shit. There's a strong "we are all just sacks of meat on a floating rock"…
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DOG
It's like trying to sit down and talk about the battle of okinawa but the conversation keeps veering off. After a mere 30 minutes we've covered strategy, consequence, collective amnesia, mass suicides, grief, music, programming, commercials, nostalgia, and poetry. Sometimes, it feels like talking to an advanced AI, but Laura (played by Catherine Belkhodja), staring intimately at the camera whenever she speaks, reassures us we are not. I've watched Level 5 start to end…
- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH H !!!!!! HHH H
AAAAAAAAAAaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AHHH!! AHHHHH!!! HHH H AAAAAHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH.
It's the feeling of never wanting a dream to end, desperately trying to go back to sleep hoping that your dream would somehow pick up where it had left off.
But you know very well that it won't. First you'll forget the details. What shirt you were wearing, the exact words you said or wanted to say. Her hand on your palm that felt so tangible just a few seconds ago, reduced to a cold sensation that served as nothing…