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By imaghostxo
By imaghostxo
"DMT...DMT." said the EMT
I knew. I'd seen it. Just a month before, my neighbor, the guy on the other side of our wall, took off his clothes, destroyed his apartment, walked out to his patio, through the gate, onto the ledge, and, looking up, extended his hands and walked off the edge. I walked out of the building an hour after it happened. He'd been banging the shit out of our walls to loud music, but it was DTLA and just at the edge of "normal". I had no idea he'd jumped. Now a broken body inside a taped-off box. Someone's son. A sister's older brother. Our neighbor saw him do it, while having coffee looking out his window. It was fucked up.
DMT made its way through the city for a couple months.
On a standard evening walk, I noticed him, pacing frantic circles in front of the Eastern Columbia building; a gorgeous Wizard of Oz emerald green marble and gold mosaic at his feet. He darted into the street making wide circles at the center of Broadway and 9th, looking up into the air, imploring people to see what he saw. A woman had to physically shake him off her body and run half a block to escape him as he ripped off his jacket, tore off his belt and swung it in circles above his head, ultimately stripping down to his underwear before an ambulance and cops came in force to detain.
The young cop's face. The EMT trying to explain. The dreamer lost in fantasia. Affected by a force radiating through the city. The old cop in back looked at me and said, "It's rough catching people at a down point in life." I didn't have a choice. We were connected.
They saw something. We'd been touched by it.
FTR, this recollection is not supported by medical/scientific testing or verified documentation.
Hello.
I've haunted the streets of LA all my life. Here and there, sometimes other places, but mostly LA.
With a sickness I capture moments around me, obsessed by the knowledge that everything's lost.
I believe capturing truth requires the absence of me. My work is a reflection.
I'm not here.
Ima ghost. Just like you.
ABOUT 52Bodies :
Truth isn't found in pose, rote action, or premeditated circumstance. Between the loss of awareness and self possession, succumb to the world around you, adrift the mercurial spectrum of living and dying - our verity lies within the lines of strife and elation, surrendered to life's ultimate cruelty.
We are stars. Expulsed & dying flashes of light. Some named, held in awe. Some ignored, most unseen. An eternal cycle of peerless moments; the ephemeral beauty of simply being, burning, and dying before each other's eyes.
Our bodies are vessels.
These are 52 Ghosts I love with great passion.
I am grateful you are here
BODY16 : DMT
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imaghostxo
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BODY16 : DMT
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imaghostxo
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By imaghostxo
By imaghostxo
"DMT...DMT." said the EMT
I knew. I'd seen it. Just a month before, my neighbor, the guy on the other side of our wall, took off his clothes, destroyed his apartment, walked out to his patio, through the gate, onto the ledge, and, looking up, extended his hands and walked off the edge. I walked out of the building an hour after it happened. He'd been banging the shit out of our walls to loud music, but it was DTLA and just at the edge of "normal". I had no idea he'd jumped. Now a broken body inside a taped-off box. Someone's son. A sister's older brother. Our neighbor saw him do it, while having coffee looking out his window. It was fucked up.
DMT made its way through the city for a couple months.
On a standard evening walk, I noticed him, pacing frantic circles in front of the Eastern Columbia building; a gorgeous Wizard of Oz emerald green marble and gold mosaic at his feet. He darted into the street making wide circles at the center of Broadway and 9th, looking up into the air, imploring people to see what he saw. A woman had to physically shake him off her body and run half a block to escape him as he ripped off his jacket, tore off his belt and swung it in circles above his head, ultimately stripping down to his underwear before an ambulance and cops came in force to detain.
The young cop's face. The EMT trying to explain. The dreamer lost in fantasia. Affected by a force radiating through the city. The old cop in back looked at me and said, "It's rough catching people at a down point in life." I didn't have a choice. We were connected.
They saw something. We'd been touched by it.
FTR, this recollection is not supported by medical/scientific testing or verified documentation.
Hello.
I've haunted the streets of LA all my life. Here and there, sometimes other places, but mostly LA.
With a sickness I capture moments around me, obsessed by the knowledge that everything's lost.
I believe capturing truth requires the absence of me. My work is a reflection.
I'm not here.
Ima ghost. Just like you.
ABOUT 52Bodies :
Truth isn't found in pose, rote action, or premeditated circumstance. Between the loss of awareness and self possession, succumb to the world around you, adrift the mercurial spectrum of living and dying - our verity lies within the lines of strife and elation, surrendered to life's ultimate cruelty.
We are stars. Expulsed & dying flashes of light. Some named, held in awe. Some ignored, most unseen. An eternal cycle of peerless moments; the ephemeral beauty of simply being, burning, and dying before each other's eyes.
Our bodies are vessels.
These are 52 Ghosts I love with great passion.
I am grateful you are here
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