I do my best not to dude out on you, but once in a while something comes along that brings out the 12-year-old boy in me.
Watch this and then immediately start writing whatever comes to mind:
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I do my best not to dude out on you, but once in a while something comes along that brings out the 12-year-old boy in me.
Watch this and then immediately start writing whatever comes to mind:
I am soaring. I am flying. In my dreams I fly to escape the danger, now I am truly flying and the danger is still with me inside me. But for the moment I forget that it is there waiting like a rotten apple infecting the perfect fruit all around it. I fly and I forget and I dream. The walls stream past me. I edge closer and closer. What would if feel like if I let myself touch them? At a hundred miles an hour, would a twig slice my finger off before I could feel the pain? Ah, a painless cutting, a letting of blood, a spilling of self. Will the poison inside me pour out? Could I infect more? Or could I end it all now? Destroy the bad inside of me with one twist? Ahead I see a rocky finger. A slight adjustment is all it would take. Shall I close my eyes and let the wind take me?
Hey Cat–Thanks for taking us inside this experience. Quite a ride, and it appears our soaring adventurer is wrestling with a few “issues”.
It’s gorgeous, yet somehow all I can think about is who designed the suits — and how did they test them?
Then again, I used to have this idea that I should get an ultralight and fly from the park by my old house to the football ground at the school I was teaching in at the time (adult ed centre, football ground wasn’t used). It would have saved me half an hour on the commute and made it WAY more fun.
I’m thinking I want to do that no I don’t I want to no yes no. How will he land, how will he slow down can he speed up it’s awesome it’s awful it’s awwww… I wrestle with myself when imagining me doing what they’re doing, this outlandish outrageous thing, wearing a winged suit flying down a mountain it grips me in the gut. Is he scraping up his hands on the mountain rock? Why isn’t he wearing gloves? I’d wear gloves. What if your arms get tired? Mine would get so tired I’d want to put them at my side for awhile… oh no don’t do that! My neck aches, can’t feel my feet I’m going too fast to see the spectacular world but I’m free, falling, feeling feeling feeling … what? I can’t do this, have to stop, thank you for asking. It was fun.