“Well yesterday I watched 12 episodes of lost and carved a boombox out of a bar of soap.”
Sometimes I come to hate people because they can’t see where I am. I’ve gone empty. Completely empty and all they see is the visual form: my arms and legs, my face, my height and posture, the sounds that come from my throat. But I’m fucking empty.
The person I was just one year ago no longer exists; drifts spinning slowly into the ether somewhere way back there. I’m a xerox of my former self. I can’t abstract my own dying any longer. I am a stranger to others and to myself and I refuse to pretend that I am familiar or that I have history attached to my heels. I am glass, clear empty glass.
I see the world spinning behind and through me. I see casualness and mundane effects of gesture made by constant populations. I look familiar but I am a complete stranger being mistaken for my former selves.
I am a stranger and I am moving. I am moving on two legs soon to be on all fours. I am no longer animal vegetable or mineral. I am no longer made of circuits or disks. I am no longer coded and deciphered. I am all emptiness and futility. I am an empty stranger, a carbon copy of my form.
I can no longer find what I’m looking for outside of myself. It doesn’t exist out there. Maybe it’s only in here, inside my head. But my head is glass and my eyes have stopped being cameras, the tape has run out and nobody’s words can touch me. No gesture can touch me. I’ve been dropped into all this from another world and I can’t speak your language any longer.
See the signs I try to make with my hands and fingers. See the vague movements of my lips among the sheets. I’m a blank spot in a hectic civilization. I’m a dark smudge in the air that dissipates without notice. I feel like a window, maybe a broken window. I am a glass human. I am a glass human disappearing in the rain.
I am standing among all of you waving my invisible arms and hands. I am shouting my invisible words. I am getting so weary. I am growing so tired. I am waving to you from here. I am crawling around looking for the aperture of complete and final emptiness. I am vibrating in isolation among you. I am screaming but it comes out like pieces of clear ice. I am signaling that the volume of all this is too high. I am waving. I am waving my hands. I am disappearing. I am disappearing but not fast enough.
- David Wojnarowicz
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
![iwishitwasfriday:
kylemillerrocks:
bradicalmang:
thedailywhat:
Lost Thing of the Day: The very last “frame” to be featured as part of Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse’s long-running Lost “fan art” project was revealed today to be this gorgeous screenprint by the legendary Tyler Stout.
The Blot says Stout’s poster contains at least two spoilers for the final season, so sharpen those eyes! (Or go blind, if you’d rather not know a thing.)
The print will be on sale shortly, and you can bet this showstopper will be gone fast, so park yourself here, and pray to the almighty Smoke Monster for some much needed luck.
[via.]
WANT.
NEED.](http://8.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kurbyvAtrU1qzpwi0o1_r1_500.png)
