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i am an assemblage of pieces of other people’s lives.
Constructed nostalgia; a cut-up poem of outdated pop culture references.
i’m wearing someone else’s clothes. i’m listening to those records from the past, i want to make them last, for they make me feel alive. i find perfect pictures of perfect strangers. i collect, i reject. i’ll find some way of connection.
Somehow i drifted off too far. The pictures of the past will haunt me still, visions of men never known, never seen, never heard and never shown. Living in a dream, i stay behind the scenes in self-imposed exile. Wishing life wouldn’t be so dull, but i shouldn’t spend my life just wishing.
Efficient, logical, effective and practical. Operating, generating a new life. To cut a long story short, i lost my mind.
i’m on the outside, i could observe you all, passing strangers in the plastic age, and identity is the crisis, can’t you see? Too many pictures on my screen and all of them are screaming at me. Different faces but the words never change.
The world span around to a brand new sound in those far-off days, oh that’s where i belong, it seems to me. The way it was in the past, a long long time ago, when we could be heroes, just for one day.
i am that i am from out of nowhere. i just slipped away from home, and now i’m gone. i’m a warp in time, discontinued, a break in the line. Hearing the notes from a distant song makes me lonely too. Here am i, a lifetime away from it. There’s less of me now and more of me then. Me? i disconnect from you.
It worries me, this kind of thing. Don’t let this happen to you.