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Where is my little life
Below in the great valley
I looked for a home
Never returning anywhere
They all went out to discover
So discover; that they did
Milky way reflected in a dust floor
Must be why its lost some luster
Although horrific, this does not match the horror of the grief eating away at Logan, now a holed-away alcoholic limo driver who will clearly meet his end soon. His healing powers are degenerating and valleys of age are carved in his face.
The movie’s central question is not which bad guy Logan has to take down, but instead: what is Logan reckoning with? What is the nature of his suffering?
Logan’s character arc overlaps with many aspects of Jungian psychology, namely the process of individuation and harmonizing our “shadow” selves with what we project to the world, our “persona.”
What if you have done something so astronomically terrible in size but you didn’t know it? What happens when a character has done something perhaps long ago that they enjoyed, but didn’t know there would be consequences waiting for them at this moment? Do they still think it was worth it? Are you, or a character you’re working on, figuring out what a fair sum for the piper is? And are you or they prepared to pay it?
The lungs of the bog
The fire in the forest
Low hanging weep-ends
Must is in the air
A life may begin in the ocean’s deep
And be swallowed beneath a confusion
Of fireflies and a night sky
In this wetland abandon
Anyone who read Harry G. Frankfurt’s On Bullshit or On Truth couldn’t wait to read its seemingly logical counterpart, Assholes: A Theory by Aaron James. Both philosophers cover alarming American cultural trends, such as the insidious force of “bullshit,” a noted lack of appreciation for the truth, and the so-called freedoms that we abuse on a daily basis in a truly asshole-like fashion.
There you are, staring at this pitiful meal with a shitty garnish on the side. Just add the fact that you’re a writer, musician, or painter, and now you’re a stereotype. Cue the sad trombone.
Glowing fridge lights
Spilling on the floor
Laughing faces, expanding spaces
They all seemed so sure