Posted by KID A on June 20, 2004, at 20:03:52
In reply to i'm sorrie my friends: to anieone who knows me, posted by Ivan Michael on May 17, 2004, at 15:44:35
Why Why Why? Why does this happen, and I'm sitting here with Night Falls Fast, whom someone very very very close to me gave me in the aftermath of losing someone very very very close, and these things are horrible to hear, and I don't even know who this is.
And the failing of communities like this, and electronic communities is in the idea that everyone can be helped or heard. I'm used to what I write not making sense, or not being comprehended, It's read by those I know and appreciated, but beyond that, it's only my madness screwed into me by the psycho lubricous sky that imagines me the writer.
Night falls Fast has been a tomb in my heart, I've read it and re read it so many times that I know every page, every line, every story, every artist, every writer, every note, and I still moor to it, because there is nothing else... and I do not cut, so I do not read A bright read scream, and I no longer cut, so I do not read Skin Game... though, every anger is a knife, and every inch of skin is the pen for that...
The chance of this reaching it's intended audience is minimal, but I hope it does, and I'm not going to fill it with platitudes, because I don't know how to say them anymore, we've stood at the tops of cliffs, we've stood in Hawaii, we've written in England, leafed through post cards, we've been banished, we'ved suffered losses, we've washed ashore, we've asked the calm cool face of the river for a kiss, we've talked and chated, and sent emails, seen pictures of one another, we've disapeared, we've reapeared, we've been to the lock up, where they give you little green socks and watch you when you sleep.
Nothing matters but that someone is alive, and we still don't know if that is a curse or a blessing, and it's the best we can say at this moment in time. What with the blackbirds that fly over the cornfield and the widening gyre of brush strokes and Absinth, and Point Neuf, and the Reichstag, and the wrapping of Christo's lamps... we're just that... people, but our faces, our features, their covered, just an outline...
We have been inside the abandoned prison at night, we have seen the electric chair draped in cloth, and nothing but a flashlight to guard us, that's all in your mind, and that is where we have been.
So from me, and the people who had been here, and the people who could be here, and the people who are somewhere, and for those that I know are hurting somewhere, love.
poster:KID A
thread:347886
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20040320/msgs/358409.html