Heroes are dead

I'd rather talk to them than to god. I hope they are watching me instead of god. If you get your body exactly where one of theirs has been, then nothing happens, nothing like what you'd want, nothing crazy magic, or Disney, epic or Hollywood, or montage-happy, nothing day shaking, but there is half-magic, something a little, a little bit something, more then nothing, a nice sky, a squirrel eating cream cheese, middle-magic, day magic, a friendly roll, a one-time tradition.
To take your life, you make a knot of it, pulling yourself towards yourself, letting there be no more room. To give your life you let the knot undo, strings fall single, and all this is night-magic, its novel length, it stops pinball games, it makes a mini-apocalypse, absurd freedom, the future as pointlessly extravagent, each day meandering in a huge USA size hole.

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