A Little Furiosa Is All We Really Need

I’ve seen the new Mad Max movie 5 times. Like a little boy in the midst of the most filthy and beautiful maelstrom of grime and elegance, I sit wide-eyed, a million miles away from the awful drama that owns me once I set foot back outside. 5 times.

The drama of my ex-girlfriend, who was my love, my housemate, my friend and criminal partner, who barely waited for our union to be buried in the ground until she jumped headfirst into a relationship with someone who I thought was my close friend.

However, I will forever keep our relationship invaluable and precious to my heart. I refuse to reduce our incredible time together to an awkward move-out and thoughtless tryst with my close friend.

I will always love her and our time together and the beauty we shared will never be eclipsed by the betrayal and pain that now colors my blood red.

5 times. I’m going again tomorrow for the matinee. Fury Road is so rich and stark, the choreography and direction so detailed and defiant of the trends, the huge color and unforgettable characters, the minimal dialogue and sheer struggle, camaraderie and violence coming together in a 2 hour mutant car chase across the desert is a sick and gorgeous spectacle. A breathless melee that will forever be associated with my destroyed relationship with the only girl I ever thought I loved.

I start the motor, rev the pedal and release the heavy motion like a hammer onto metal or a bullet from a gun, my beautiful madness begging for release is finally set free like a dirty blade into the skin of a princess or a violent kiss against a willing mouth.

Vroom.

Times 5.

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