I brought the war, by Callista Womick

Repost from tiltfactor:

The following is a response, or perhaps companion, piece to Olia Lialina’s My Boyfriend Came Back from the War. 

---

I didn’t go- none of us did.
They thought we went, but we didn’t. 

Here. 

We were here.
They didn’t think so, so they screamed at us
and shot at us
and wanted us to die.
“Maluus zebr” they said about
each of us in turn. 

But here it is, I still have it. 

And this- see the dust
still caked into the fibers?
I shouldn’t have it, they have rules about trophies,
but this is from when we were bombed
out of bed-
well, I wasn’t in bed. 

I couldn’t sleep, so I was bare and wet
in the cement shower house.
I knew I was going to die.
I sobbed under one of those
crummy metal sinks, waiting for the walls to cave in
on me or a mortar to drop into
my lap or my crazy heart to just explode. 

But they didn’t and it didn’t and it didn’t,
but maybe I still did. Die. I feel dead.
I’m not a man anymore. 

Please don’t look like that.
I don’t mind.
I’m good at what I do.
I’m a killing machine.
I’m a god. 

This is what they make of us, and they’re damn good at it.
I was in basic with this
scrawny, nerdy wimp from
Minnesota.
Ethan. Ethan Brown.
Most boring-ass name ever.
He’s a sniper now.
He could hit you right between the eyes-
equal distance from each-
from 2000 meters.
You wouldn’t hear a thing,
and then you’d be dead.
How about that scrawny nerd from Minnesota? 

Babe, don’t cry. 

Yes, I like your dress.
But you know I like green on you
so much better. 

White, hell, I don’t know how tokeep anything white. 

I would touch you,
but you look so beautiful.
My hands are dirty.
Yes, they are. Look at them.
LOOK AT THEM. 

I’m not shouting.
Ok, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.
The dress is beautiful. 

Then why are you crying? 

…HIM?! 

THEY KNEW?! 

You didn’t write.
I wrote to you. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

…I remember.
I’m not sure than I can, either.
Not since. 

Please don’t ask
me now.
I’m so tired. 

Who knew that the dead slept?
I always imagined we would torment
the world of the living after nightfall.
Who knew that it was the other way around? 

I’m tired.
I’m so tired.
Here, hold me.

Visit the Last Real Net Art Museum for more works inspired by My Boyfriend Came Back from the War.

b@b

December 14, 2011 @ 8:33pm: life is like a penis. simple, soft, straight, relaxed, and hanging freely. then women make it hard.

16 agrees, 14 newsworthies.

February 15, 2011 @ 4:59pm: I was kind of bummed out when I looked at the course guide the other day.. all sorts of WGST classes about what women have done in the past. Then I looked for a class on what men had done and couldn't find one for a while. Fortunately, I realized those classes are just labeled under "History".

45 agrees, 6 disagrees, 42 newsworthies.

March 8, 2011 @ 12:46am: freshman girl hooks up with frat bros to get attention -> guy's heart gets broken -> guy gets jaded, gets realistic about the scene, joins a frat -> starts hooking up with girls without emotional attachment -> the original girl realizes she made mistakes but now it's too late so she reverts back -> the cycle continues...

8 agrees, 10 disagrees, three newsworthies.

March 8, 2011 @ 12:49am: lets try this again: freshman girl hooks up with any guy that is nice to her because she is young and naiive and excited to be in college --> gets emotionally attached --> heart gets broken by some guy that she thought actually liked her --> gets realistic about the scene, joins a sorority, stops hooking up with as many as guys, and talks shit about "those slutty freshmen girls!"

52 agrees, 1 disagree, 18 newsworthies.

June 8, 2011 @ 2:05am: would you send your daughter to dartmouth? a/d

4 agrees, 15 disagrees, 2 newsworthies.

December 25, 2011 @ 11:56pm: Dartmouth men, would you send your son to Dartmouth?

11 agrees, 1 disagree.