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I can't keep falling forever

I can count down the seconds

I'm fourteen, in the ninth grade, live in Israel. Geek by day, writer by night...

I am the last
or maybe I am not
it makes no difference
any more

This world will survive another
or million
years more
a dead planet
the fire of life extinguished

The wind is cold around me
it rasps in my throat
through the gas mask
keeps out a margin of
in the air

I can count down the seconds
to my death
and to the extinction
of the human race

This was our only planet
How stupid
could they be?


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Brad/Silverplate88 notes::

: (c) Kiota Bandal --- she posts in her Elfwood account, sometime in summer 2003, before being committed to a psych treatment facility that September.

Of course I know you can just go read this in Elfwood at the link, but on this post Ki had devised a background screen that displays as grey, it partially obscures her words, this transcription is easier.

One of her LJ friends wrote after April 13 that "pieces of her will keep popping up all over the Internet" and of course that's true. Then. Now.

One of her lovers told me, when I visited her in Israel, that she had just gone to a film that she knew Ki would have loved because of the "conflict and struggle" throughout.

And of course here once again is the lack-of-breath idea, and as her memory of what happened to her at nine got clearer, she'd also include it in a piece she read for class ("A Childhood Requiem") just before she would drop that class in April 2008 --- which was okay, they were all still in the Drop-Add period at school.

What does "Last Day" say to you right now?

That's personal, for you and Ki to discover as you will.

What she says to me is right there in the first words: 'I am a person, I'm not a person, it doesn't make any difference, things have happened that I can't have controlled.' It was a time of hopelessness in her life, and it would come again many times, continuing up to her real, non-fictional "Last Day" when she wrote, in part, "...I can't see any other option."

What do we have beyond hopelesness? Are we putting words into Ki's mouth when each of us knows her mortal mouth is long gone?

Well, for me, resoundingly: NO. "When your mouth is open, your ears don't work" is the cliche' now. What works for me is to shut up and listen. With any ears, with no ears.

Yes, in those Last real Days there was hope and it spoke to the bright side of Ki and she responded... Aperture exhibit, Texas exhibit, Cambodia trip for academic credit, even right up to that afternoon when she gave permission to another artist to use a photo of hers to make an acrylic paint rendering which would be exhibited on college campuses as part of a tour; this guest artist did so, and it indeed was exhibited that coming Fall, and all this permitting came down late in Ki's last afternoon with us.

I was sitting right next to her outside on the walkway steps one day earlier. I saw the dreams, the hope, and the dissociations in her voice(s), in her face, in her body. One LJ Friend later told me that "You were staring Death right in the face" and I responded, "I felt I was staring Rebirth right in the face."

Could it have been both? Of course.

What lives on without limit (all these years later) is the fact that today I am given the grace to post this to you at all, to be asked to be co-Mod of this site at all, to feel Ki right behind me as I type this, and inside me too, and "things have happened that I can't have controlled."

One of my favourite transliterations of the Persian poet Rumi's work is when he said, "I get so sick of people repeatedly asking me how they could open the door to God when the answer is so very simple: you just must be careful never to put up the frame into which to screw the doorhinges."

In that image, frameless equals timeless.

May we all live our lives with Ki or without her, but with no frames.

As she does now.