Lift me into a world of wonder, make me a child again; forever, if you can.  The movies that really get me are so mystical, exciting, and mysterious.  They're stylish and intriguing, always present and true.  They make me question who I really am, and they inspire my imagination to wonder what could be in this enchanted world.  I like actors that are so beautiful and graceful, charming and sultry.  I like when they're so hot that no one can even tell if the movie is good.  I can.

What's this Home Box Office anyhow?  You're tellin' me they got the movies at your house?  They've got some pretty good stuff on there.  The movies don't end these days, they just keep coming.  I don't re-watch movies often, but there are so many movies I wish I could see for the first time again.  I don't think I'd be able to stop watching them.  If it's on after 9, I'll get to it tomorrow.

There's a whole lot I owe to these movies.  Sparks are flying off the screen and they change how I think about the world.  If there's anything on God's green earth that had me rethink everything, I know it's the movies.  The ones that brought me to the other side, where I found I fit in quite well.  Better in living color, better than anything I had ever seen, and it felt better than anything I'd ever felt.  The magic of cinema pours into the very back of your mind; it kind of suffocates you sometimes, too, in its pervasive glow.  Gets you real tied up on that elevator, everyone's breathing real easy.

It's kind of hot when someone's watching, but it's really hot when no one is; they're real turned on.  If you're like me, though, the bright, fluttering magic is all that you can feel, you won't think twice when you see the right shit.  The omnipotence of it burns off like hemp and you're here in the present, alive and lucid, eye to eye; everything about it that made it heavy becomes everything that makes it so right.  Makes it so you can't even see straight, your heart is racing and your legs are quivering.  You leave your body and you don't care where you're headed, just that the warm bliss you're feeling never leaves you.  So far from where you came, but in just the right place that you eclipse it entirely.  The entire set is you now, the other people on it somehow become a part of you.  You went expecting to turn into something different, and you did, and it was still you, just poured out everywhere so they could see; so much of your belonging aside from yourself and unto you.  The truest belonging in this world would always be fate.  What did they see?  What put me in this place?  Plainly what is, if we can really listen to the tide.  She echoes into us from the shores of our being for us to hear, to feel ourselves come into being as by her, and to see in her what is true in the greatest; if we understand what she had always placed upon us, to know what is true and good, if we are so fortunate to be fallen of the graceful mind.  

Made in America
Silent Works