and hearing that line come back to me, the one that goes something like “The worst thing in the world is to be ordinary.”
Now that I’m older and watching it for what must be the dozenth time, I feel even worse for the woman married to that ex-marine who likes boys and hates himself, and even better about every word that comes out of Kevin Spacey’s mouth. It must be the August heat that throws the comic and the tragic into relief. Either that or it’s like when you don’t realize how thirsty you are until you get to water–in dire need of one or the other, or both, you notice the metallic sweet slickness, the cold of it, the reanimation in yourself.
I should be in bed, but last night I had a nightmare. It was a good one, in that I woke up with tears in my eyes and the urge to grab a pen; it would have made one hell of a short story. I couldn’t remember a thing about it by morning, so now I’ll have to look for it again tonight if I’m going to nail it down. But not yet. I’m still too tired to start looking.
On a not entirely different note: The Daily Post today asks us what the 8th deadly sin should be, and here are my two cents: Not taking the opportunity to watch American Beauty, not staying up too late, not remembering how good it all is.
*Note Spacey’s 4th wall stare a la “House of Cards” at 0:42.