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Fleeting, too fleeting

November 20, 2009

Daul Kim, 1989 - 2009, RIP

Another one fades into oblivion.

Young, too young.

Bright, too bright.

Cold, too cold, the biting world.

She loved a punk boy in New York and had a French man in Paris. She doesn’t capitalizes her “i”s and anything else. She likes art and writes poetry to decadent pop culture flashes and wears expensive clothes and colors her hair and smokes a lot and respects Korean culture and embraces nudity and changes like the wind and won’t say sorry for living her life.

And now, I have to say “was”.

You beautiful creature. You tortured soul.

Too much, it was all too much.

She is in me.

I am in her.

All is connected in its broken, tattered, melodramatic, pretentious, cruel, gleefully exposing, cutting way.

I feel her, reading her words.

I miss her, even though I never knew her.

She said hi and wrote about forever.

Here is her last entry in her blog.

She’s there now.

May forever be good to you, Daul.

Why is beauty so painfully fleeting?

Words from Daul:

how can you be smart

when its love

i already accepted that i relate to nothing

past is heavy but past is past and

i can only try to understand

egoism

too much self importance

perhaps

luxury of time

perhaps just series of bad events which were only beautiful

the irony

the facade we put on

penetrating time.

but not egoism.

it is relative but different.

i just know

the more i gain

the more lonely it is

but when people grow together

its something that is not easy but is nice

and that is something,

relative.

staying relative is hard

staying honest is hard

i know i’m like a ghost

i have nothing

but myself

and potential, to me is the question of will

thats why i am present to you

S – thanks for telling me.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. November 21, 2009 7:14 PM

    You always wonder when people die young
    What might have been, had they lived long
    And into old age, long enough to see
    Grey hairs, and grandkids, bouncing on their knees
    But they were too fragile, and broke when the wind
    Would blow on their clothes like mouths on bare skin
    Too soon they left us, to the skies they flew
    And joined their ancestors, to start life anew.

  2. November 24, 2009 3:05 AM

    “Unaware that time passes as quickly as a white colt glimpsed through a crack in the wall, ignorant as sheep being led to the slaughter, held hopeless prisoners by our concern for food and clothing, we fall heedlessly into the snares of fame and profit and in the end make our way back to that familiar village…”

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