phantom_of_the_paradise raze twenty_years_ago ago i stretched out in bed to watch what i thought was going to be a fun, campy little movie with some songs sewn in. and it eviscerated me. i couldn't have known i was watching my own future unfold in a murky mirror. some whisper of a life that wasn't yet mine must have been working on me. maybe it was all in that opening scene, before anything fell apart for anyone. we see winslow alone on a soundstage, ignored by everyone but the man who will make him wish he never slid out of the womb. singing his soul into the air for the whole world to hear. there isn't a single shot of his hands dancing across the keys of the grand piano he's made his muse. and that's just as it should be. everything we need to know is happening in his eyes. even when they're closed. he sings: "all my dreams are lost, and i can't sleep. and sleep alone could ease my mind. all my tears have dried, and i can't weep. old emotions, may they rest in peace. and dream — dream a bunch of friends. rest in peace. and dream — dream it never ends." those words cut me in places i thought would always be beyond the reach of any blade. i have become the sleep-starved spectre that haunts these halls. all my songs are still my own, though some of the melodies move through other mouths now. 251229 what's it to you? who go blather from