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.profile. .diaryland. .song. .story. .things. .records. .rings. .site. Flatlined. 2005-12-16 1:57 am Tonight I saw Brokeback Mountain for the second time, and for the second time I came out of the theatre thinking, I was only in there for two hours. How can I feel so entirely different from when I went in? It's not a detached sadness, not at all. It's a grief, a feeling that I was watching the whole time and could do nothing, a suspicion that so much time has passed and left so many stories behind. I am not an emotional person, and yet each time the credits roll I have to take five minutes to myself, to rub my forehead and swallow the need to just break down. It's not fair, I think. It didn't have to happen that way. It didn't. I really respect Roger Ebert, though I don't always agree with him, and when I read his review, I could tell he had written it while being just as stunned and speechless as I was. I can't even capture this feeling. Perhaps if I'd been older, or if I'd been wise, more blessed and prepared for disdain-- |