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Once upon a time, I kept a LiveJournal account, gryphons_hole, a deep, dark, comfy little hole in my brain where I kept notes on my life and queerness.

This is the archive to that account, mostly password protected, adult, queer content, stripped of photo content after the site restructured its photo hosting feature. I hope to restore that content as well.

If I know you, ask for the password. If I don’t, hope for a generous mood.

08.18.24 I have realized a need to continue in this space. A kink reawaking if you will, with content that may range into inappropriate for my other blog spaces.

This week seems all about sitting quietly with things about which I have yet to settle into my opinion. The most prominent by far would be the gulf oil leak. Every day on the drive to and from work, I am wrapped with NPR’s coverage and I am fucked up by it. My body actually hurts when I think about it too much. Every time I get ready to scream about, I realize that I have not heard one single person directly in my life discuss it. Not one, including those here on LJ.

So, I will sit with it further until my brain digests it.

The third one is a person matter involving an odd exchange with someone that I admittedly don’t know so well. The details of this one I am keeping to myself.

That leaves the one that I am willing to discuss: Lost.

I watched the finale a day late, since I watch online and not on television. I was fully captivated, as I have been through the entire run. I didn’t get upset at all until I realized the credits were about to roll. Then, the credits began to roll. But, hey! I am used to that; it is my typical response to television and movies.

I do think they are entertaining storytellers. I don’t have any beef about unfinished sub-plots or any of that. Honestly, I am not entirely sure what I think about the ending and where it pointed to, at least in my mind…

You see… I want the island to have been real. I want them to have lived on it and survived together and built amazing connects and for the finale to not have completely obliterated the entirety of six years of story. I want the magic and mysticism to have been real. In part, I want this because I was told it was so… by the people that were creating the story. At least I remember it that way. I recall something back about the second season involving discussions of pergatory and the idea that they were all dead. And the answer was that they were real, that the island was real.

So, really, I only want what I was told I could have.

With that in mind, I want to take the stance that the other world was created by all of them at the moment of the bomb blast, which is entirely possible. That it was a holding place to gather as they died and waited for others to join them. Christian said that there was no now there, and I can definitely grasp the idea of all the nows and thens being at one time. That Jack just finally showed up after saving the island. That Hugo and Ben arrived now but really a now much later than the rest since they were acting as guardians of the island.

I am good with that. Except for the babies. The damned babies ruin all of that. Why would Erin be forever an infant. Minor point, I suppose. Let’s discuss the missing baby: the Kwon baby. Nowhere to be seen in the after-now of it all. That single observation stand to keep me from having my happy-island-is-real ending. Dammit. It suggests that the Kwons never had a child. At least not before the crash.

Still, in all of this, the only reason I am upset to think the island is an illusion is that I was told numerous years ago that it wasn’t. Bastards. They should leave the cheating ones own rules to M. Night Shyamalan…