lemonpie dreams

Little Children

2007-05-12T20:56:00.000+03:00

Last night I watched a film on DVD. Little Children.
Well, I liked it much and it really was great and to a point meaningful. In general, the story is about living in suburbia actually is not the way it may seems. Behind all this front of pleasant and secure beautiful life. Life can be shity there too beside all the grass and the shining cars aside.
My thoughts about last night were let’s watch something easily digested but I guess I couldn’t help but having thoughts about director’s trying-to-say. The narrator also provided the movie with profoundness and it reminded me of Lars Von Trier’s (not sure about the spelling) Dogville and Manderlay.
There were many allegories and I guess, to take it further, making a picture which seems so mainstream (big stars, many bucks in the production etc) but it has depth, also complies with the main idea of the movie.
The ending was not so superb as the rest of the picture. I mean, throughout the film I was wondering what kind of ending could be possibly used, because one more element of the concept was that the protagonists deal with deadlocks, and I couldn’t guess their next move, but to my opinion it was too easy and kind of inharmonic with the rest.
I guess Little Children was not about the hypocrisy of the society and that of people’s living in it but about trying to build security around us while this is something so desperately futile in some way for a variety of matters.
Realism is something hard to deal with and people tend to hanker for caramels that melt easily in the mouth. And this film was kind of a ,I don’t know, something bitter but edifying, inside a candy wrap.

GREECE

2007-05-06T19:45:00.000+03:00

One common essay on the English class used to be “a friend of yours is coming to Greece. In your opinion, what he needs to know about your country?”
Well below, are all the rubbish things no one should necessarily know about but are part of contemporary Greece

You (don’t) need to know that:

There’s a show on tv which really thrives lately. Everyone talks about it. I guess the concept is the more trash the better. We’re talking about a huge success. People with “peculiarities” go there and though all of them have such awful voices, they sing songs -which become tremendous trash hits on the radio and popular ringtones afterwards- solely written for them and have to do with their weird element. Though I’d love to give an example, it’s hard cause the titles of the songs lose their meaning on translation.

The movie 300 a while ago, enthused my compatriots. In the small city I study very few are regular movie-goers but during the display of 300 there were lines of the impatient audience begging for the golden ticket on the street outside the cinema. No one hated it and some journalists wrote on the papers that this film represents the Greeks and their history in contrast with many other Hollywood mega pictures which paraphrased our importance and contribution to the world.

The basic salary of a worker is around 600 Euros while renting a two bedroom flat costs around 300 and a cd 20

The residents of a city –any city- always have conflicts and antagonism with the residents of a specific other. Usually the two cities are neighboring. Though the greatest conflict is the one between Athenians and the rest of the Greeks about which product should be called cheese, which one feta-cheese. Complicated?

A way –the Greek way- of having fun is throwing flowers to singers. Troubled again? Imagine your favorite artist. Then imagine him giving a concert each night for about a couple of months in the same place. You go there and the place is full. You sit in tables and buy a bottle of scotch for 180 euros. Optionally when you are at the peek of your high spirit you throw him flowers. It’s a good way to show that you have money to spend and singers relish it.

Drivers yell and swear a lot. Fully accepted. They also use the horn very frequently. That’s fine also. And mostly they have absolutely no respect about the pedestrians. Pedestrians are sympathetic.

If you are in a bank and wait in queue don’t give your to place to the guy who is behind you and seem to be in such a great hurry. He will thank you but will think that you are imbecile.

If you are in a congested bus during a hot summer day, make sure to go and stand beside an open window, otherwise close your nose and breathe form the mouth.

If you are a guest in a Greek house during lunch or dinner you have to eat what they offer you. If you’re not hungry they will just tell you to eat until you beg for no more.

Nightclubs are open ‘till 3:30 a.m during the week and on weekend ‘till the last drunk person leaves the place.

Families don’t usually sit around on a table to have their dinner. Dinners are pretty rare and extraordinary to happen. At night everyone eats anytime he wants.

The most common Greek hobby is drinking coffee. For hours and hours on the cafeterias.

The Sunday papers offer dvds and their sellings have been probably increased. You pay for the whole package 3 Euros.

We pay more to book rooms on our holidays at the Greek islands than the tourists who come from abroad through their home’s travel agencies.

We don’t cook turkeys on Christmas.

Statistics say we have lots of sex as a nation.

We were proud when Paris Hilton used to date two Greek heirs.

When a journalist happens to interview a world famous celebrity, he always asks “have you ever been in Greece?”

The half of the total population lives in Athens

Just because all the unnecessary information about Greece seem endless, that’s all for now.

That's a pic from my last wekend's trip and it seems to me like it is a road from Ireland for a reason but it really is from Greece

Xs

2007-04-01T23:19:00.000+03:00

Some years later they met again. He had changed and she had too. Though years had treated her with more courtesy than they had done with him. Mostly in the era of experiences than this of the wrinkles.
People say that eyes stay unscathed. No matter how many years may pass. The truth is that eyes do get old as skin does. But not from the sun or the air or the gravity but from the things they see. The mirror of the soul is influenced by what soul feels or goes through, also. So, now they were actually seeing a stranger. One the other. The man took his jacket off and the woman served herself with the chair. It was a long time ago from when she was expecting this treat from the men. Even the waiters wouldn’t help her sit properly and as a proper lady. Like the ladies in the movies. Being self sufficient meant that she was stronger yet more tired. The man ordered a scotch and this was his usual though this information was erased from the woman’s mind too many years ago. Not enough place for craps as one gets older. And romantic bullshits. She ordered a salad. So women do eat on restaurants while being with men, thought the man and felt free from the lack of the unnecessary good manners. He hoped that when her plate would be in front of her she would eat it all and not leave even a bite. In that case she would prove his ascertainment. Because sometimes women just order food to play cool but leave it as it is but more blurred. She was thin anyway and a salad of vegetables wouldn’t ruin her shape.
People around filled the place. Let’s take a walk, she said when the man drank the last sip of his scotch. The ice-cubes hadn’t yet melted completely. Yes, let’s take a walk, he said and noticed that her plate was totally empty. He paid the bill and didn’t even let her see the price. Some things will never change, she thought and didn’t feel that all the years of women’s struggles for getting the equality they deserved were screwed by her not paying her share. By not paying the salad’s price.
She paid for the ice-cream just to be fair and not because fighting women would contemn her for not paying back before, if they knew. That’s what I like about you, said the man and the woman felt like she had lost a part. That you like ice-cream in winter, the man explained. Phew, such a big deal, laughed the woman but had understood what man meant by saying this. And I like that you like me eating ice-cream in winter, she played the teen exquisitely.
Why didn’t you get married again, the man asked wiping with the handkerchief the woman gave him his ice-creamed fingers. Because you divorced me when I was too young to die but too old to start living again, the woman responded. I was too young to die and too old to live too but I got married, the man said taking the blame out of him. So you chose to die, the woman said. They laughed. And you had met her before you left me, I have to remind you if memory has abandoned you entirely, she also said.
The river was there. The cars were passing them by and their drivers were looking straight on the road ignoring the walkers on the pavement. They were only polluting them with their gases as if they were deserving it for walking in the city’s busy roads like they were on a romantic tour on the countryside.
Do you remember our song? said the man but the woman startled. We don’t have a song, we never had. Otherwise, I’d be pleased to have a soundtrack for back then in the days you left me old prick, she said more like crowing him with a compliment than railing him. Every couple has a song, he answered without commenting her inappropriate talking, and we were definitely a couple. Let’s leave the past behind, because you make me sound like I’m still with hard feelings, the woman said. Me? it was the man’s turn to startle. You maybe do this in purpose, because it all ends up me saying “you left me” and I don’t want you to think that this is something I still nurture feelings for, the woman was out of temper. Look at us, said the man, we’re still the same together, not a conversation without gifting blames to each other. We are so typical that I wonna slap a passer by, said the woman and they both started laughing for her rudeness and the exaggeration. A passer by just over passed them and they both said “hello”.
Cold had intruded their clothes. The man thought that he could never live there in that city with such cold. The woman had forgotten how warm’s like. At least the one which was surrounding every move of hers while she was growing up and later was growing older in her home. A sea was separating her from her home. And a three hour flight and a one hour drive with car. The man’s scarf was bought from her home and a couple of times she unobtrusively touched it just to realize that her home was truly existed. That clothes were still getting produced there, and people were owning houses there with yards of grass and they were going to work every day or for a walk as they were doing that moment in her new home. Being so far away, had transformed her home to a place of her imagination. The sole good thing was that she could imagine the things she could no longer remember clearly the way she wanted. People were more beautiful and as young or as old she had left them. Not a single day older. That’s why she had found hard to recognize the man in front of her when she first saw him after all that long though she had spent most of her life aside him.
It was really nice to see you here, the man said, and come visit me if you’ll miss home. I will, the woman said and the same smile split in their faces.

CONTINUE

2007-03-25T22:36:00.000+03:00

It’s quiet some time since my last post. Though I don’t feel sad or happy about it, blogging doesn’t seem as appealing as it did in the beginning. I do still visit a few blogs that I think are interesting and thanx everyone coming by mine. I could write plenty of stuff or I could write nothing at all. Am I abandoning lemonpie, I don’t know actually, but updating a blog was or is fun in any case.
PS I usually don’t take requests but Cinda, ur last comment probably was very kind, so here is a poem I was eventually going to post anyway some time. It’s actually one of my favorites… Enjoy everyone reading

104 BC

Born in 104 BC
More than two thousand years of wandering
With gigantic feet sure a skid
Walking over indiscreetly friends along foes
But who is not mistaken some innocents between so many guilty free?
Even with shorter treads
And shorter
Lifespan;
Years
Pages of a book endless but yet not bottomless
Chapters
Of green and blue and everything-ness
Of joy over sadness
And not of a hole over a crest
Of sanity over irrationalism zest
Of absoluteness

Having been around the world
Millions of times
Just with few steps
Don’t fall in traps
Of begging for one more round
Even a totally in reverse one
Because you were experimented
In absorbing wisdom
And don’t just bite
In entices like that

THE STORY ENDED

2007-02-09T22:14:00.000+02:00

City break

Part five

It mustn’t had been more than five minutes from the actual moment Ras had slept -it took him a lot that night to feel relaxed and to convince himself that he should get some sleep- when he opened his eyes again and he saw Lilly opening the door of his bedroom very slowly, trying not to make a sound. At first, he thought that he may was dreaming but by the moment Lilly was laying curled up beside him, with her body touching his and his arms around her, he had remembered that he had gave her his spare key a long time ago, even only a week after they had met. Lilly started talking although Ras told her that this would be unnecessary and he was just pleased to have her laying in his hands, like almost a wounded sparrow would do as it was finding shelter under its mother’s warm wings. “I only care you are here…” were the precise words he used.
Although Lilly had missed that unprecedented sense of safety and complete tranquility she only was having when she was inside Ras’s hug, she preferred to ruin this feeling and tell him everything she had.
First she said that Awndrey had gone away and by that moment he would be at the bus station, waiting the next bus for his home to come. She said that after “TIM’S” they had gone at her apartment but they found out that a tube or something had broken from her bathroom and the whole house was like it was hit by a storm; but she added that she didn’t mind about that because either way she was planning to spend that night at his place; she had missed him unbearably. After that she said that Awndrey had visited her because after his aspiration to find the “fertile land” he was hoping he would, many years before, when he had abandoned her and his house, had failed, he felt like he wanted to reinvent himself and his past and maybe his future along her, but Lilly didn’t give him a chance to hope that this could ever possibly happen again and she also said that the urgency he alleged, was part of his plan to make her run back to him. She admitted that it was so foolish of her to tolerate him all those days but she explained that if she had acted differently she would have become as him and she didn’t want this to happen, for nothing.
That same night she also said that she had started feeling tired and trapped living in that faceless city. She called it a junk city and she said that she didn’t know if she was able to withstand anymore its people’s cruelty and indifference and she said that she was tired of the fact that she always had to be in vigilance and watchful in order not to get smashed by the stronger and the faster ones. That moment, a strange coherence evolved inside Ras’s drowsy head between the words junk and jungle, which was quite bright for the intermediary state he was, between sleep and awake, since regarding Lilly’s way of seeing that city, the word jungle could depict it, as well.
At the end Lilly said some more things but Ras wasn’t able to recall any of those at the morning when he woke up. All the time she was talking, the whispering tone of her voice was filling him with a invigorating but at the same time unwinding warmth and after a point he wasn’t able to distinguish the words she was murmuring. It was enough that she was there in his arms again.
Maybe if he could remember what she had said he would know why Lilly wasn’t still there at the morning, with her beautiful skin sparkling by the daylight and only her perfume, imprinted on the dented pillow, was the only evident clue which was confirming that she had been there last night and this wasn’t just a pleasing dream he had. Only the perfume and the left keys on the scratched night table, which were witnessing that Lilly had in truth been there last night but she never would again.

End of story

THE FIFTH IS THE LAST ONE

2007-02-08T17:59:00.000+02:00

City break

Part four

“And doesn’t she cook just delightfully?” Awndrey asked Ras, though it sounded more as an indisputable statement than a question, while the three of them were waiting for the desert to be served. Ras, who was sitting on the other side of the table, gave a feignedly kind look at Lilly as he nodded puzzled “Well, I guess…” he cleared his throat “I mean I believe you, though I didn’t have the pleasure yet” he managed to say giving the best of his self not to sound too dry. “Tell me you’re kittin’ me” Awndrey responded cheerfully. He was in a very good mood that evening and every time he was saying something his voice was witnessing it. “You know each other for a month or so and you haven’t cooked for that good man yet…?” “Not even your famous pancakes…?” he swerved to Lilly’s side, who was sitting right next beside him. “I plead guilty” Lilly raised both of her hands and returned the kind glance –genuine this time- to Ras who was sitting across the table.
The atmosphere of the company that evening may seemed cheery and admirable for the rest of the people who were sitting at the scattered tables around them and were mostly occupied by middle- aged yappies along with their housewives or their fiancés or their secretaries (some of the women were combining both of the last two attributes), but in truth, if you were observing really carefully, you could discern that there was so much tense in the air that it was like as a bomb was waiting to explode and it was just a matter of time when this would eventually happen.
Most of the night was spent Awndrey talking about Lilly and every single common experience they went through together in the past and this was making Ras feeling that the blonde woman with whom he had spent every single day of the previous month of his life, wasn’t a familiar person anymore but a total stranger. That wasn’t true of course, but that was the way he was feeling at that moment.
Even though Ras had an already shaped idea about Awndrey before he even met him just by Lilly’s descriptions and his own assumptions, he was the kind of man who was giving you the impression that he was pretty confident about himself and was never asking for verification or any kind of compliments by the others. He also had an undefined way to command and exude a sense of respect and veneration to everyone who was surrounding him everywhere he was going. These feelings maybe were boosted and enlarged by his masculine squared features of his face and his striking height.
Ras was kept scrutinizing the features of Awndrey’s face one by one from his chin to his cheek bones while they were having their pie filled with spade marmalade – it was a very tasteful pie- and he was kept thinking that this man was probably the more masculine and the more confident version of his own self. In a mysterious way, Awndrey was looking, talking and acting the way Ras also wanted and was trying but never managed to, simply because he wasn’t made in this way.
Every time Awndrey would open his mouth he would always have an interesting story to narrate about his turbulent life in the different places he had visited during the recent period of his life –the period after he had left his hometown- searching for a promising occupation as he said but he never did, maybe his expectation were way too high, and every time, Lilly was all ears. Meanwhile, Lilly hadn’t found until that moment the chance to inform Ras about the real purpose of Awndrey’s visit and the reason he asked for her help but the important thing was that as he said sometime while they were at “Duke”, he had decided to arrive for his hometown the upcoming day.
When bill was left enclosed in a silly envelop with the name of the restaurant and its address printed on it upon the table, Awndrey insisted to pay it all just by himself. Ras had thought that they should split the cost, because it was one of the most expensive restaurants of the city and Awndrey may was not aware of that, but even after he saw the inscribed price Awndrey remained adamant. Ras realized that it would be impossible to alter his mind, so he retreated. Now, what about calling this, a punch on the stomach…? A punch to this already wounded virility…
Because, if you really think about it and if these two men were likened to two mammals in a jungle and Lilly to the female one who would have to choose the one of them with whom she would inseminate her descendant, then Awndrey would be the uncontested dominant; the one who would win the fight between them. For this reason, (ok, Ras didn’t have the time and the clear mind to get it that far), Ras had spent the entire time at the restaurant feeling awkward and uneasy and Lilly had surely figured it out, since she was giving him weird and conspiratorial glances every time he was overdoing it with scratching the table’s refined cloth or with moving his fork nervously and intolerably fast up and down.
On the way back after the dinner, they shared the same taxi. They were going to the same direction, though Lilly and Awndrey would continue for a drink in one of the city’s innumerous bars but Ras said that he had an early morning waking up, when he asked to join. That was a horrendous lie but Ras swore he did when Lilly pushed him a little further to change his mind.
Ras sat in the front seat and the rest in the back. In the five minute distance until the Glorent street where the bar “TIM’S” was located he wished many times that the taxi driver were more talkative. The man hadn’t say a word even when Ras told him about the places he should stop, but he was not to blame because he may was going through a tough situation or he was just reticent by nature. But whichever the reason was, Ras wished they could exchange a word or two during the drive, because the other two were whispering and laughing and teasing each other, and whispering again and the exclusion his front seat was provided him, was making feel really uncomfortable.
When the taxi stopped outside “TIM’S” Lilly signaled to the driver from the outside to descent the window from the passenger’s side and she bent to wish Ras “goodnight”. He tried to smile and though he thought that his face muscles wouldn’t follow, he smiled. Lilly said that she would call him “first thing in the morning” and bent a little further to kiss him. They hadn’t kissed for days and Ras thought that they hadn’t for ages. Only a moment later Lilly was holding Awndrey from his leather jacket sleeve, leading him to the bar’s entrance. The tall man turned his face to the way where the taxi was standing and was about to get back in move again and when Ras raised his right hand to sign “bye”, Awndrey blinked him instead of doing the same. It was a blink which was meaning many things. Though it could be taken as a mark of intimacy, Ras took it as a very sarcastic and abhorrent signal. He felt enraged. That man was capable of driving him to the edge just with a simple blink of his eye. Could it be a sign of a man telling to another that at the end he was the prevailing one? The one he had won over the female mammal? Well, some could say it could.

IN THE MIDDLE

2007-02-05T20:40:00.000+02:00

City break

Part three

Three days after the day of the big frustration and confusion, Ras was getting dressed to meet Lilly. At the upcoming dinner they wouldn’t be just the two of them but an old friend of hers too, Awndrey, for whom Ras had heard most of his story from Lilly.
As Ras was many times told, Lilly and he used to have a very intimate bond while growing together in their hometown but Ras hadn’t got completely the kind of relationship they used to have. They used to be a couple for a long time definitely, but it wasn’t just for that. For certain, that guy, named Awndrey, had hurt her when he left their town a couple of years before she did and ever since they hadn’t met until last Monday that he showed up absolutely out of the blue. This was in fact and the reason Lilly hadn’t met Ras at “Napolitano” while they had arranged it from the previous day. As Lilly explained him hastily when he had called her, she had to pick her old friend up from the airport and for some reason she couldn’t say at that moment, he was in great need of her help. Of course, Ras was very bewildered from her behavior, since he knew that they had lost contact for many years and the last time they had talked, that man had left her a very bad taste. Though it is true that Ras had never met him before, he didn’t have the best idea about him, probably because of the fact that even though he had hurt Lilly, it was obvious that he was still remaining a big chapter in her life with remarkable influence in her decisions.
As if his distaste for that strange man wasn’t by itself already enough to make him refuse to attend the dinner at the restaurant, Ras tied his tie’s knob so exquisitely that someone would think that he had learned to do it a very long time ago and he was perfectly ready to meet them.
A quarter later, he found himself crossing the city’s central park on his way to the meeting point outside the fancy and high-priced restaurant “Duke”. He knew that if this was a couple of hours later, crossing the park would be extremely dangerous because by then that quiet but half-lightened place would become a stamping- ground for any kind of junkies and whoever you could imagine that could harm any passer- by who was ignoring the jeopardy in being there late at night for any reason, in order to attract some money. However, until then, park was still crowed enough to provide him with the necessary sense of safety and despite that, he wasn’t intending to prolong his staying there. All he needed was a couple of minutes to sit somewhere and get himself together before he meets Lilly and her friend.
During the last days Lilly had called him many times but every time he was pleading excuses to avoid her. Ras had felt disappointed and betrayed the day she stood him up for that other man and she disappeared without informing him first. Because of all the upheaval that aroused, he had started seeing their relationship from a very different aspect. After all those days of introspection, he came to realize that the thing that had bothered him the most was that she had gave him up or their schedule or her priorities just because that guy Awndrey, whose intentions were remaining still inscrutable, told her to. Ras doubted if she could ever do the same if he had acted similarly.
At one hand, Ras was even afraid to answer himself who was playing the leading and most influential part in Lilly’s life and her decisions and on the other, he was riled with himself to even think this way, while he had never asked from Lilly to give something more than what she had and mostly he wasn’t keen on offering anything further, either.
Apart from going from to work all those days, Ras nearly did nothing else. He didn’t meet any of his friends, he didn’t call his parents to see what they were doing and above all, he didn’t stop thinking about Lilly. He was really confused because though he knew that they formally weren’t partners and their complex relationship was grounded in independence, it was still a slap in the face that he was left aside when the man from the past came into the scene. Or someone could say that it was a slap in his egoism that he was feeling displaced and stranded on a distant corner.
The unawareness of the reason of Awndrey’s comeback was a supplementary burden. “What is he looking for….and why did he show up so abruptly…” was troubling Ras all those days he decided it would be better for him to keep them away.
To kill time, Ras tried to get into writing, as many times had done in the past when he was feeling lonely. Funnily enough, he didn’t manage to write a word, though some of the darkest periods of his life were converting him into a very prolific writer. An unpublished one, but that didn’t matter because that was not his goal. Making up stories was not for the public but a personal way out from what was hunting him each time. It was a kind of a psycho-therapy Ras was practicing to himself to feel free when he was feeling he wasn’t able to otherwise. In the space from last Monday to that current moment writing hadn’t proved the most suitable solution because basically, he could think of nothing else but that once again he found himself on the fringe of a situation. And that passive reaction he had adopted, had made him refusing dealing and solving the matter out, face to face with Lilly or that strange man. Every single time that Lilly would call him in order to arrange a meeting, he would turn her down. Every single time except for that last one that day, when she called him again and Ras decided to confront whatever it was that they had to say. That sudden anastrophe of his mind was the result of the imminent dinner. Ras thought that he should get dressed the best way he could for the purpose, to feel charming and self-assured and claim her undivided attention back. “I will show out my “glorious” self and I’ll stop acting the way only fifteen year old boys do, for Christ sake” he said in front of the bathroom mirror as he was getting ready, in a moment of superfluous buoyancy.
At the park, only few moments before he meets them, and while sitting in one of the benches beside the artificial lake that optimistic feeling which had overwhelmed him had abandoned him and was replaced for once again by nonplus and insecurity. Although, beside his enormous distress, he didn’t miss to notice that the scenery from the last time ha had gone there, a month and few more days ago, had been slightly differentiated but it provoked a great impact upon him. The lake seemed very much lifeless and -if we could use the verb- naked because its visitors were not there anymore. It was cold for good by then and it was some time ago since the ducks had flew away for their warmer next destination. This alone, made Ras see something he already knew. He realized that when some things are meant to change then they will. And even though sometimes this seems wrong it’s always for good in the end.
Ras stood up unwillingly, -any further postpone would make him be late and he didn’t want that- and he thought that if things between Lilly and him had changed or would be, he would come in terms with it and would get over it because that’s the only thing he had to do. Even if he consciously knew that this could be a little bit more painful than the ordinary because it was irrefutable that they used to have such a great time together.

THE SECOND PART

2007-01-30T17:33:00.000+02:00

City break

Part two

“Please take the sun away from my face” Ras said with his right eye still closed and the left, half- opened. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning but Ras was used to get up at noon on Sundays. That morning not only he got up very early but a girl dressed with an old T- shirt of his, had already painted one of the dingy yellow walls of his bedroom, light green.
Lilly and he, had already spent one month together, mostly talking and visiting different places in the city but this was the very first weekend they had stayed together. The night before they had made love for the first time; a night they both were waiting for since that afternoon they met each other, when Ras crossed the door of “Napolitano”.
They were having a great time together, one could say unexpectedly good time, though neither Ras nor Lilly was seeing their relationship as a serious commitment; not even a date. They both had honestly made clear from the beginning that due to many reasons, they could never be a proper couple. Ras claimed job worries and family matters- nothing of these was true- he was just afraid to link his life with another person’s after the traumatic split up he went through from his last long term relationship, even though this was almost one year behind him and Lilly claimed the independence of her nature. That was something Ras could discern in every move of hers but he was fine with that, not say convenient.
Lilly was a shot in the arm for Ras’ mood for doing things again after the long time he went through with his focus round upon more self- centered and unrelated with other people goings on (commonly, he had a hard time overcoming his past relationship and in general he was trying to redefine and reassess his goals and the path he was following in life) and Lilly had found someone who felt like he was in need of her constant presence. Because that was Lilly all about. Subconsciously or not, she was always finding people to associate with, who were either in need of a shelter or in search of some kind of protection and she was open-handedly, providing them with exactly what they were hankering. Maybe that’s why that morning she was changing the color in Ras’ bedroom walls without telling him anything first. She literally and metaphorically wanted to create a brighter environment, from the one he was living in. To tell the truth, Ras was taken a little aback by that gesture of hers but he neither misunderstood her nor considered that she was getting into fields she wasn’t allowed to. Within that whole month, there were many times she had surprised him nicely, that this was not making any strange sense anymore.
The first thing that had impressed Ras about Lilly Elli, even this might sound odd, was that she was sharing the same passion with him about the movies from the back 40s and 50s. She was even fond of the classic western films in which there is always a macho guy, wearing extraordinarily tight trousers and the characteristic hat on his head, riding a horse and firing the villains just outside the local bar or the hidden ones behind the cactuses and the dried bushes. More surprisingly was that she, as Ras, believed that these films were loosing all of their magic in the new generation plasma TV screens.
Apart from that, Ras caught himself being intrigued and stunned many of the initial times they had hanged out outdoors. One day Lilly challenged him to use the elevator while they were spending time in one of the innumerous city’s malls, after the second he mentioned that he was probably claustrophobic. And he said “probably” because he had never got into an occasion that he could find it out, excluding the time he was very young and got locked up by his big brother in the closet for a few minutes and the only he remembers is himself yelling and panting hard, but ever since he was trying to avoid as much as he could, to be in places that could potentially give him the same sense. That afternoon they ascended eight floors with Ras turning pale, but the view, that Lilly seemed like that had faced again, left him speechless. The people and the cars and everything else Ras could see from up there, the top of the building, seemed like ants and the whole city seemed like an ant’s tiny society. For a minute, Ras had an unprecedented feeling of sheer supremacy.
Even though that braveness she had forced him one or two more times to embrace was a natural trait of Lilly’s, Ras hadn’t discerned it from the very first moment. Taking in mind her elegant characteristics, someone would rather describe her as a fragile and delicate woman than a fearless spirit. In any case, her perception about how someone could overcome a fear of his or a callousness, was different from the majority of the people and maybe some could tell that she was, if not bizarre, definitely unlike from the most of the girls of the same age.
Laying there in that bed, that Sunday morning and seeing the girl with the young and well- shaped body wearing only, one of his old shirts as painting his walls in a bright color, wasn’t to make him feel awkward. He just thought he was lucky to have met her. Lilly as if had read his mind, turned to his way and gave him the same every time smile. She moved towards the bed and sealed his lips with her own. “Get up sleepy” she obliged him playfully. Ras moved to kiss her once more but instead, he got a green stain from the brush she was holding, on the top of his nose. Lilly laughed with all of her heart, as the spectacle of the prematurely awaken Ras, with his nose painted green, seemed pretty funny right that moment. Before she even realize it, she got even more stained too and not only in her nose, when Ras got her into his arms and leaded her under the sheets with the oil-color imputed brush, still on her hand.
At afternoon Lilly had her short backpack with all of her stuff in it and even though Ras begged her one million times to stay, she acted as they already had arranged from Friday. They had agreed that she would only stay over during weekend and not a minute further than that. Because even this little variation, was way too big step for the peculiar relationship they had. For a month they were doing all the things friends or couples do and the previous night did only what lovers do, but still they were both acting like they hadn’t unlocked their selves completely to each other. It must had been almost cruel, two people to match so perfectly but still to be afraid to admit it or most likely to pretend like totally ignoring it.
On his doorway, they settled to meet at “Napolitano” the next day after 6:00 o’clock that he would be off of work and could wait for her as she would be doing the shift ‘till 9:00. After that they would go and see a movie or something, but this was still too early to be specified.
That Sunday night, when Ras was alone again, he suffered a sleeping problem. He woke up many times during the hours he was supposed to enjoy his comfortable bed with the smell of Lilly’s perfume still on the covers and the pillows, since the same odd dream was coming over again and again. Neither the new face of his formerly dull bedroom had proved powerful to change that. Although his room had turned into a brighter and more beautiful place, where someone could only dream of waterfalls and beaches with palm-trees in it, he just couldn’t help but having the same awful dream each time he was closing his eyes. That night he dreamt that he was walking with Lilly side by side, going probably for something joyful to do- a dinner in a fancy restaurant or a in a gallery- because as he could recall, he was wearing the brand new coat they had bought together for formal and special occasions some day between the passed week and she, was wearing an ethereal dress in the color of ice he had never seen her wearing it before in the real life and each time he would turn to see her face, she was every time getting more and more older. She was remaining the same smiley and with the same warmth in her eyes but her skin was becoming unnaturally wrinkled as if years were conquering her with every step she was taken.
The hours until the dawn to come, passed terrifyingly slow for Ras- that’s how it seemed at least- and while being at the office, he was counting the minutes to cross the door of “Napolitano” and see that Lilly was absolutely ok and he was just a fool to worry just because of that stupid dream he had.
At 6:00 at the dot, he was outside “Napolitano” but when he got in, the owner told him that Lilly had submitted her resignation very early at that same morning. Ras asked for information but the fat man with the blue apron with the name “Napolitano” pricked on it, didn’t have any. He was muddled by the resignation also and he actually asked Ras if he knew any of the reasons that could make Lilly leave, since she hadn’t said anything to him either.
Ras thought that he should probably dial her cell-phone number from his own mobile; he was already holding it in his hands, though he hadn’t done that neither once during the entire duration of the month they were hanging out. They had agreed that only in case of emergency they should call each other. This was one of the many untold rules they were firmly following for not getting too close. Not getting too couple-y. Each time they were going somewhere or they were just together, they were arranging the next one in order not to have to use their phones. For that afternoon they had made plans too but Lilly was mysteriously absent.

MODERN TALE

2007-01-28T14:58:00.000+02:00

Today I wanted to post one of the short stories I’ve written but the thing is that I didn’t know which one exactly… And then there was this blog Sunday Scribblings. This week’s theme is chronicles and I wondered which of my stories has anything to do with this. To tell the truth I didn’t really get what I should or I shouldn’t post for S.S since I’ve never participated in the past.
So, this is the first part of a story named city break and it’s a specific period of a fictional man, or you could say the chronicle of a fictional man who was feeling lost and alone and everything else you can find out by reading the story and the transition to a different situation.
For those who are here through S.S, I wish my post is related to the prompt and you’ll not get disappointed…

City break

Part one

It was one of those nights -which were becoming more and more frequent lately- that Ras was feeling all alone. A couple of times he thought about getting the phone and call the first person that would come on his mind, but every time he was thinking to himself that this would be nothing more than a futile try. Of course, that was not because each person from the ones he knew would be indifferent to spend a few hours with him hanging out- he used to be a quite joyful company when he was in good mood- but mostly because he was feeling very numbed and submerged into his own loneliness. He started troubling his mind with silly worries and unrealistic conclusions that he was very lonely and he had nobody to cling to in such dark and obscure times like the ones he was going through right that moment.
The truth is that no previous time of self- contestation and criticism could be compared to this current one. Paradoxically, a few drinks later and much more cigars, he was somehow pleased to the thought that maybe after all, he was just overreacting. Perhaps, an adjective outside look from a stranger in his life would come along with that view but certainly many would confirm that a change in this blood-thirst condition of self-pity that he had subjected his own self, should be required urgently.
It mustn’t had took him much, probably five minutes staring at the ceiling were enough, and he was already asleep with the last glass of gin tonic still intact and the ash-tray full with cigarettes, left at the scratched night table aside. The bedroom’s window at his fourth floor apartment was wide open, though it was already the last days of September, regarding that nights, were still warm enough, to allow him let the smooth fresh air fill the empty from decorative pieces, like pictures or any kind of paints, bedroom. The woman who was sitting beside her husband in the balcony from the opposite block of flats, felt a bit guilty as she gave a quick glance to that strange to her man while he was sleeping, but she wasn’t in position to perceive how important or not were the things he was dealing with, in his everyday life just with that one look, though she instantly wondered which his name might could be or how he might had spent the earlier hours.
The next day came and as the clock didn’t miss to ring at the exact time it was programmed to, he got off the bed, unwilling to begin his day to day routine. It was long time ago since he had stopped having proper breakfasts, basically since the days he was still living at his parent’s house while being a teenage student and his mother had always ready for him eggs and cereals before he made his way to school. That morning he just had his typical, which was just a couple of hurried sips of black coffee.
As he was about to reach the rather architecturally uninteresting building he was working in for the last four years, he decided to take the long way for the first time and stop by at the city’s most famous for the tourists central park. He had no reason to do that but somehow he felt forced to do something different than what he was used to be doing every other single morning. He didn’t mind that this alteration could be easily regarded as a pretty small one.
He bought a cup of coffee from the nearest cantina, already the second for the day though it was still 8:30 am and instead of going straight to his office, he preferred to sit in one of the many unoccupied benches for a while and drink it over there. It was such a sunny day but he noticed that everybody around were already dressed with their heavy coats. He was one of the few who were fooled by the apparently good weather. The summer was only less than a month away and even though nights were still unbearably hot, during daytime, the cold was already present. “Funny weather” he thought and he wished he had predicted it forehand and had worn a warmer jacket as well. He also noticed that most of the people who had gone there that morning seemed really relaxed, like there was nothing on earth that could make them feel rushed. Or most likely, that’s how all those people seemed to his eyes.
The observable contrast of his inner condition and everyone else’s in that out and out green and well- reserved oasis in the middle of such gloomy and grey metropolis, made him wonder what he was doing there, while a stack of paperwork was waiting just for him, only few meters away, at his office. Although this last contemplation was really suspending, he abruptly and subconsciously managed to shrug it off. He continued, almost like drowsed, sitting in the left side of that bench, staring at the two dozen of ducks, the beautiful artificial lake’s summer visitors, which hadn’t moved yet to their next warmer destination, catching the peanuts some little kids were throwing to them and he thought that maybe the passers- by who would happen to notice him, would assume that he was waiting to meet somebody there; but in truth he wasn’t.
At afternoon after work, he walked back home thinking that warm nights had probably been history ‘till next April or May, as every year was happening. It was extraordinarily cold considering the last night’s high temperature and he wished once more he had taken along that God dammed jacket he hadn’t thought to. He also noticed that days had started becoming shorter and this observation instantly made him recall all previous winters, when it was already dark outside before he even knock off.
He had taken the same long way he also had at morning and he still was far enough away from his neighborhood at Cockpill street, which almost entirely had turned into a Working Class suburb, due to the recently- built Worker’s Homes premises.
The Italian- style cafeteria which was standing by the side of the pavement he was treading at, across the always busy 5th street, seemed like a very cozy and familiar place, so he decided to treat himself a hot cup of coffee in order to fight the chill he had started feeling. The fourth coffee for the day actually.
He crossed the door and a pleasing wave of hot air spread all over his body within a second. He didn’t have to choose in which table he should sit because only one, at the back of the room, was available at that time.
“Excuse me, can I get you anything?” the seemingly friendly waitress with the flimsily tighten blond ponytail and the green apron with the name of the café on it, asked for the second time. “Sorry” he responded, “my mind was one thousand miles away” he said and he raised slightly the bulged blue briefcase from the table, implying that work matters were preoccupying him. Of course, that was such a tremendous lie and he was pretty lousy at saying those, as he was never thinking of his work, even before than a minute right after the immediate moment he was out of his office. And what to think of… He didn’t have such significant responsibilities -he never challenged himself or his bosses to acquire some- and more importantly, he wasn’t that interesting in accounts, in the first place.
“I’ll take a cup of black coffee… or better… a cup of hot tea if I may, because I already had a few more than my stomach can handle for a day” he said after the enormously long pause. “Sorry…” he added as the waitress was on her way to go… “Could you make it a gin tonic actually…?” he said with the lowest tone of his voice and with a hint of misgiving due to the many alterations. The girl put that down on her block after the little smudge she did with her pen in the spot where the previous order was and she gave him an enigmatic smile -but not an ironic one, despite his awkward baffle- as she walked away for once more with the unused pricelist, firmly kept near her chest.
A couple of hours later, he found himself being the only client still unmoved from his sit. “Napolitano” was one of those places that open really early in the morning but close around 9:00 pm and the regulars apparently were aware of that. He looked at the direction where the bar was located and he saw the blonde girl with the ponytail walking towards him. “I’m sorry if you’re working overtime just because of me” he rushed to say preventing her from saying anything. “I’d say that you might stay further, if it wasn’t for that man over there, who is really filthy- stringent with the schedule keeping” she replied as she discreetly indicated the fat man, who obviously was the owner and was standing in front of the “STUFF ONLY” door. “Well, I think I’ve postponed you both more than enough already, but you’re really kind saying that anyway” he gently responded. “So, what do I own for the drinks, please?” he said as he was looking for his wallet inside both pockets of his jeans. “Store buys…” she said with that same enigmatic smile sculptured on her lips and her glance for once more. “Oh, no that’s not right, please I want to pay” he seemed shocked by that strange girl’s initiative. “Well…” the girl insisted “as you see we are just a small David café between all those Goliath… lounge bar- restaurants or whatever these multi-places are, around us and we always identify our first- time clients. So, it’s our policy to treat them when they first get here” she explained. “Then we rip them off” she said in a try to be bantered. “Plain Marketing” she added without meaning it. “I guess you’re practicing it for the first time on me, but I’ll take it since you don’t seem you’re from the ones who change their mind very easily… Contradictorily to me, I think…” he said a little flattered for the treat -never before a strange woman had treated him anything even though he could be considered as a good- looking man that could attract the females’ interest but with no any special features to point out his charm- and he reciprocated the genuine smile. “So I’m a sycophant and the Lady Stubborn now. That’s very kind of you to say... Thank you very much then…” she teased him a bit more. “No, I didn’t mean it that way… All I said was…” he seemed confused “It’s all right I’m just teasing you a little. You seem like teasing…” the man in front of the “STUFF ONLY” door cleared his throat. “I think the guy is pretty much out of his time keeping now…” he said. “So, thank you…” he stumbled, “Oh, I’m Lilly… Elli…”she stretched her hand for the handshake “Ok, thanks, Lilly… or Elli…” he laughed while he responded to the gesture by enclosing her hand into his. “No, no. That’s my name… My whole name… Lilly Elli….” “So, nice to meet you Lilly Elli… I’m Ras. Just Ras, though I’d prefer something as complex as yours…” he let her hand free and felt a bit weird when he realized that he hadn’t done it earlier. “Maybe if you visit us again I might have made up one just for you; and I promise it to be very complex...” she replied. A couple more things were said until they both said “bye” and when Ras let the door close behind him, he thought that by then, the fat man was possibly rebuking the blond girl for not making him leave any sooner but he didn’t felt guilty because he believed that she wouldn’t mind.
As cold had reigned every inch of his body on his way home, he kept thinking that at last, the deviation from the regular route proved worthy. He had really enjoyed the small talk with that strange and kind young woman named Lilly Elli, though it was wondering him the fact that she didn’t feel like a total stranger. This was one of the rare times he could be so open and talkative with a person he had never met before in his life and despite his try, he couldn’t remember the last person that had managed to provoke him that same sense. He thought that he wanted to go straight back and ask her things about herself, like how old she was - she mustn’t had been more than twenty three years old, which means that Ras must had been about five or six years ahead her- or if she would like to have a dinner with him, but, he reconsidered it as a very childish and impulsive idea. Maybe some other day he thought… Maybe some other day….

THE WISDOM TREE

2007-01-15T16:16:00.000+02:00

BRANCHES

In a big moment like this,
You found the time to become
Oh, so philosophical
You even talked about Aristotelis
Though you admitted you couldn't comprehend
Neither from the five pages of the book
You read last night before you sleep...
Tiredness proved to be more powerful than his theories;
The sun was shining
But I couldn't feel less happier
Even if the strongest storm was there to stare and interact;
We said big words
In a very plain way;
Mostly, you said
And I just listened,
While cutting small branches
From the tree beside me
To smaller ones
And then throwing them recklessly
Down to the concrete street;
If you can say about anything
That is concrete for sure

TO THE CITIES

2007-01-07T19:34:00.000+02:00

This was a great weekend! I can say I really enjoyed it, as I enjoy this very moment, feeling clean after a hot bath, drinking coffee and typing… reporting my urban adventures… Not the kind of wild adventures but invigorating none the less…
So, as I was saying I visited a couple of relatives and friends of mine who live in Athens, I love being there, and I just got back. Athens… Athens… Every time I find myself there I feel like I’m back to civilization again. Compared to the majority of the rest of the European capitals I know that Athens is still quite primitive; ok, Olympics 2004 kind of improved the situation a little bit, but still the city is still quite primitive, though, compared to my 3000 populated hometown and the 80000 populated city I study for the time being, a trip to Athens is indeed a trip to the civilization…

On the way back, we detoured a little bit from the highway and we crossed the city I used to live in for about two years. This is where I used to study also along my sister and I hadn’t been there for a long time, two years I think…
I loved it walking at the streets I walked before so much time and have good memories from… Unfortunately, it was a very short visit but I did discern a couple of things that have changed in the space between. For example, minor but striking difference, is that the video club, we used to rent DVDs (it was tapes back then, but anyway) closed… That’s a shame really…
The important thing though, is that while being there I thought that sometimes a memory, a place we used to live and have abandoned for a reason, a scent, or even a route with the bus we used to take so often can become palpable again so easily…
I don’t know if letting our memories in the dust is the only thing we should do because life flows so fast, but I like remembering things… I like remembering the pleasant ones…
As for that time, it was wild I think and I feel glad it was… I was only 18, I was feeling like the protégé of the company, happened to be the very youngest one, and I liked it, now that I think about it, we were clubbing all the time, we were learning from each other and from our experiences, we were living alone for the first time in our lives, we didn’t mind how much money we had inside our pockets to have a good time…
See? I guess getting some things out of the dust may is not such a waste of time…if you know that you have to leave them back again once they seem so overwhelming and enticing…

Road trip pictures:

Athens suburb... posh and seaside...

The central park at the city I used to study...

A lake on our way...

Me...

A NEW YEAR

2007-01-01T16:44:00.000+02:00

I wish everyone a happy new year…
This year it was rather some yellow Christmas than white –no snow at all and too much sun- but it was fun…
I wish everyone had some great time also
For me it was so much food, going out, enjoying the companionship with my friends, having good time with my family, playing with my dog…
Furthermore, there is a tradition in Greece which says that in New Year’s Eve you have to play this game with the cards named 21 and you need to bet some money, you know not so much, just to get it a little more interesting and I’d say that last night for me was ripping my friends off… That was fun definitely...

Here, everything you need for a nice New Year's night... a glass of gin, cards and salty bisquits playing the role of money

Here, me clubbing

NOT EXACTLY A CHRISTMAS STORY

2006-12-26T21:20:00.000+02:00

Stranger

It was the morning of the Christmas Eve. It was cold outside and the trees and the house’s roof tops were carrying the ice-cold burden of the previous night’s snowfall. Apart from those, pretty much everything else was covered too and the spotless white scenery was only ruined throughout the main road, which was leading the locals to the big highway, where two brown unremitting lines had shaped from the vehicles that were crossing it with their dingy tires.
After shoveling the snow from the front door’s steps “so that Santa knows we’re expecting him”, George sat at the kitchen’s round table, watching his wife, Mary, cooking eggs and sausages for breakfast and listening to his two daughters’ voices coming from the living room, fighting over who’s star should be placed on the top of the Christmas tree. George’s wife, Mary, was really absorbed by the preparations for the holidays, as every year was and missed to discern her husband being more thoughtful than what he pretended he was that morning. Mary, a twenty seven year old woman, ten years younger than George, was really overcoming herself every time around Christmas, cleaning out the house, cooking traditional pies and sweets and in general creating a fitting atmosphere. During the whole year, every year, she was the “typical housewife” with all that means but around Christmas she was really doing nothing else but cleaning and cooking and decorating the house properly for the instance. On return, she never really enjoyed the holidays due to her angst to get everything as they should be, for her husband’s and her daughters’ delight.
The phone rang twice before Mary picked it up with her left hand, while blending the sausages and the eggs with the other. George felt relieved when he heard his wife greeting back her grandmother who was on the other side of the line. At first he was afraid that the one who had called him last evening was the one who had called again that morning. But fortunately, it was Mary’s grandmother who was very old but still in good condition considering her age and never missed to call on Christmas Eves that it was Mary’s birthday, as well.
Last afternoon’s phone call was the George’s anxiety feeder. Ever since, he was thinking about what he should do. Should he meet that woman who told him to go and find her at the only motel of the region alongside the highway, the motel without a name, just with the blue sign beyond the front entrance, in which M and T where lighting up and then was fading away slowly again, or he should just stay with his family which seemed the right thing to do, anywise…?
Vivienne, or Vinnie, as George used to call her a long time ago, was someone from the past until that phone call. A memory that took voice, flesh and bones just in a second. Vinnie and George used to be engaged when they were both twenty two but Vinnie left one day and let him live until that current day in that small town. She said she had to find her mom and dad who had abandoned her in the orphan when she just a new born, before she was ready to make her own family. And even though she used to love George and he loved her too, she left.
After almost fifteen years she called at his house and without a hello or a pause to hear his voice and let him answer back to her invitation, she hanged up the phone. With the same familiar warm voice, but way more hoarse, she told him that she was back for a while and she would wait him at No.23 room the next day; just the day before the Christmas day.
George was so confused. He didn’t know if he would go or not but he was avoiding to look his wife Mary in the eye, feeling that he had already betrayed her, just by taking that phone call.
At noon he was in front of the mirror observing for the first time how much his belly had pumped now that he wasn’t still that twenty two year old fit boy and felt bothered for the first time. Fortunately, he hadn’t lost neither one hair from his head so far, while many of the men in his age he was associating with, could already be characterized, well… as bald or semi- bald. Apart from the two long lines which had circled his mouth and the three more on his brow, appearing every time he was laughing or lifting his eye- brows higher in surprise, he still could be deemed more alluring (French prefer this word) than most of his friends.
George got out decisively and somehow mechanically from the bath and kissed his wife on the cheek. He told her he would be back in an hour, as soon as the dinner is served I’ll be back again, he said and closed the door beside him, letting his wife believe that the drive with his car that he just launched would end outside his parents’ house.
Vinnie was still looking gorgeous. A little older and not that fresh but gorgeous. Maybe if she wasn’t smoking that much she would look even better, George thought sitting next to her, while making the ice cubes swimming in his scotch change places as he waved his glass. He drank a sip and tried to imagine what would be the sense of touching her long silk robe she was wearing. “Sorry but my wife and my kids are waiting for me. Mary must probably have served the dinner and wonders where am I…” George said looking to Vivienne and trying to resemble her with that twenty two year old girl some fifteen years ago. “I’m glad and surprised that I met you… But really why you called me?” he added, surprised by his own self for his straightforwardness. “I just wanted to see you, didn’t you? Vivienne said, pushing her cigarette against the ashtray. “I just wanted to feel you” she said and George realized what she meant as she moved closed to kiss him. He resisted, but he wanted to feel her too. He thought of Mary and his kids. He even thought of his work and his bedroom while kissing Vivienne, who was Vinnie again but he didn’t stop kissing her. In addition, he grabbed her tight with his hands and placed her to the undone from hers last night sleep bed. He came in a minute or two but they didn’t stop. They did it again; more slowly now but with same passion. They became one body. They became the twenty two year old kids again.
Vivienne got up from the bed naked and went back again with a cigarette lighten up between her fingers. She lied beside him, naked bodies touching, and passed him her cigare after a long whiff. “I don’t know if you heard… but my foster dad just passed away…” Vivienne said and George thought that he hadn’t heard but didn’t say anything as she went on. “They called me just for my signature and to accept everything he left me. I’m rich now you know…: Vivienne said, using the same tone for every word she was saying. “But I don’t mind because I became rich ten years ago when I married Bob.” Vivienne was looking at the wall on the other side of the room while talking and someone could think that she was talking to no one in particular if George wasn’t laying down beside her, smoking her cigare. But then she turned to his side and gave him a gentle look and a gentle kiss “He must be here any time now… so I guess…. I don’t think we will meet again” Vivienne said and started to get dressed.

End of story

THERE SHE WAS

2006-12-21T20:36:00.000+02:00

Me; walking down the wet street while spatters of rain are establishing themselves on my glasses. Headphones on, so tiny and discreet, being difficult to be discerned, playing some summer song…
Her; walking up the wet street, holding a bag probably filled with newly- bought gifts for her intimate people… It’s Christmas, remember? The lucky bitch, though I don’t like calling her that because we used to be so good friends in high- school, is not a myope or a presbyope, so has absolutely no idea how frustrating it is to see everything through the scattered diffractive water- balls on your glasses.
I see her, around twenty- two twenty- five and I think, hhmm… cute… She makes some strange clown- type moves to stop my hurried pace, I needed to get back to work because I was already too much purposely late as I had an exterior thing to do , and I think hhmm and funny too… This must be a striking combination…
But then I see more clearly and I get it that it’s her… My classmate/friend from school I have seen her only five or six times since.
The dialogue letter- perfect
Me: It’s you… (both cheek kisses)
Her: Of course it’s me… And it’s you… nice…
Me: (I hold her from the shoulder now; tenderly I try… awkwardly it comes out somehow) what are you doing here? Christmas shopping?
Her: Well, not really… some shit so far… but I’m heading for the boots…(she seemed hesitant to tell, so I suppose she had bought underwear…That’s not a taboo anymore, she could tell it to someone she hadn’t seen for, let’s say… like a decade)
Me: You should go from that street… the shops are better there…
Her: That’s where I was going… Ah, let me see you… you’ve lost weight?
Me: I think… I used to be fatter anyway… and you look great… Honestly… With this, how you call this, a beret? Yeah, let me see you… you look great…
Her: I was looking to some pictures the other day, from that trip, remember?
Me: Vividly!
Her: Well, you were scratching your nose in one of those… disgusting… though it was fun…xixixix
Me: xixixix oh, let’s forget the past…
What are you doing, are you still with that person, we should meet sometime again, let’s have a coffee, was few of things we talked about during that three minute meeting…And then I felt like a school boy again, when she mentioned between laughter the gigantic pimple that is thriving just a little higher from my left eye-brow since last night.
Her: What’s this? You are twenty two from Christ sake… You still get these?
Me: (while walking to the opposite direction from hers already) You’ve noticed? I had totally forgot about it ( the eye- brow was hiding it, otherwise, I’m sure I could see it just by upturning by eye a little bit….) Did I really have to meet you today? (laughing back)

That’s a picture of me before the pimple… And thankfully it’s almost and already disappeared…

SOLID FEET MADE FROM HOPE AND ENDURANCE

2006-12-21T18:31:00.000+02:00

Christmas are coming, so this poem was inspired from this time of the year...

32, 8, 34

The woman passed over another one
Like she’d never really been there;
She didn’t do it in purpose
It was that her shopping bag
Hided her out of her sight

But her little girl saw her
And she would remember her
For the rest of her life,
Sitting there on a corner
With her hand blue from the cold
But too proud to leave its erected place

The woman looked her back,
The daughter not the mom,
And she wished she could
Show that kind of love to her own one day,
Hurried and anxious to get home on time
And do all the tree ornamentation
The pie and dinner cook

But she stood there
And when everything got illuminated
She walked her way;
The opposite way
From the long and short pair of tracks
Still being static pints on the ground’s white blanket;
Four, eight, twelve pints
As far as she could see

The gathered coins
Clinked liked jingle- bells
Inside her pocket
As she waved them mellowly
With her hand raking for some warmth

She looked high
But the old star was still out of sight
And then she looked low
And she wished the new mark she would shape
Would lead her a step closer to that star

MATERIAL BOY

2006-12-17T23:21:00.000+02:00

I know Christmas is around again because:

1. My diet Coke can looks different than the usual.
2. I got an amazing useless gift with my special order from any fast food place I visited
3. 10% of the price of the cologne I bought will be distributed for a philanthropic purpose (I hope at least they don’t mean more animal testing, by this)
4. I gave my condoms’ changes to a beggar, while I usually try to ignore these kind of people (they don’t fit with the utopia, it’s hard to be achieved, in any case)
5. I’m trying to decide the color of my New Year’s Day about- to- buy underwear
6. I already change any radio station whenever they play Last Christmas, because I’m so fed up of listening to it since the begging on November
7. I take a look at my bank account and I promise to myself to do that trip to London next year, definitely
8. The repetition of the question “so, what do you want me to get you this year?” from people around and myself, gets more and more frequent
9. Santa and his twins have deluged the malls
10. I get 10 euros poorer in the hope I’ll become 1 million euros richer. A wild dream they call it, the national lottery, I do.

PS: I hate to do this but I need to explain in fear of getting misunderstood. I could in no case get that superficial or arrogant and selfish, but I only criticize the perception we some times tend to get about this period of time. Love and peace for everyone…

STORIES FOR DOGS

2006-12-17T16:06:00.000+02:00

There were two dogs the other day on the street, which were practicing something peculiar…
Well, I don’t know if it’s the mating season, or if what they were doing was indeed mating, but it whatsoever seemed like a kind of a doggy sexual activity… I guess at least…
So, these probably gay, definitely experimental, dogs were… well, how to say it, it’s quite of awkward… ok ahhh, “communicating”, adjoining each others arse- hole for a respectable long time. Weird, you may think, weird I thought and it actually probably is…
BUT(T), while I thought that it was probably just the two of those shameless four feet with the brutish instincts, yesterday or the day before that, I saw two more dogs practicing the same… What’s going on??? I wondered outspokenly… And a voice answered inside my head: dogs probably have trends nowadays and this is the newest one… and the kinkiest I suppose…

Yesterday I was feeding my dog a few bites from something I was eating… I don’t remember what… So, he champed my finger a little –unintentionally I hope- and after that came out an amusing, extremely short dialogue(in Greek of course) I had with a very amiable to me woman, who happened to cross from the street right outside my house’s yard that moment…
Me: you pig… (talking/yelling to my dog for biting me)
Her: who are you calling pig, boy?
Me: my dog!
Me again while she had already stepped further: I call my dog a pig, this must be funny… xixixix

SYNDAY MORNING CONTEMPLATIONS

2006-12-10T15:30:00.000+02:00

Why do I feel that it’s always have to be me the one who has to call in order not to lose touch with my friends?

Why does my prima guapa A. always tell us to go home around 1:30 am when we’ re out at the club cause she feels bored but it has to be the rest of us later on, who try to convince her leave the damn place at 6:00 am? (hello love, I know you’re reading this)

Why it gets harder and harder to lose the few more pounds when we get older? Metabolism you’ll say, but still, not fair

Who are these people anyway who invented bureaucracy and made it be so hard?

Why after a marvelous hang out comes a hideous hang over?

Why blogging is free and so easy (I just love this) while many believe that making statements in a widely public medium as internet is, under the coverage of anonymity, is at least exceptionable?

Why some people always text to other friends of theirs while they are along with other people and don’t just communicate with the ones they are at the moment? (believe me, I can see this happening a lot observing people sitting on cafes, restaurants etc)

Why don’t I think it’s enough if I like a song, unless I hear it one million times on repeat?

Why typing with my left hand is still rare even though I have used this keyboard excessively?

Why whys never seem to stop when you start questioning for a reason, like writing a post about Sunday morning contemplations?

MORE POETRY

2006-11-30T00:29:00.000+02:00

Gap

A dress itself
Or a well- ironed shirt
You see, doesn’t
Exactly work

A drive
With the car
You’ll never be able
To afford

A dream
About the person
You are never again
Meant to hold

Are you up
Looking down
In any hole?
You may find your soul
You may see your soul

Are you up
Waving the water
That fills the hole?
You may see your life
Being out of control

Stuff the gap
Generations before shaped
You are sad
You’re just not blind

Stuff as you can
The wound from being betrayed
You’re just mad
You’re not out of your mind

SHE'S BEEN TO OLYMPICS

2006-11-29T18:14:00.000+02:00

Today I met an Olympics championship… I thought I should write this…. It’s not happening everyday, nevertheless. And yeah, I guess I felt admiration towards her. I think she was kind of shy when the manager of my office introduced her to all of us working there. She was very unpretentious and good- looking also.

WEEKEND

2006-11-27T19:31:00.000+02:00

I spent this passed weekend at Thessaloniki, which is the second largest city in Greece after Athens. There were so many things we could do during those couple of days and as it happens when there are many options, we only managed to do the half.
So, my friend’s and mine exodus involved a visit at the mall, a cool cloudy afternoon hanging at a cafeteria, a visit at the place where the international annual cinematographic festival takes place and a visit to the museum of contemporary art and the gallery where the photographs of German’s director’s Wim Wenders are hanging for a week I guess, already.
This exhibition of photos I’m talking about was really interesting and they were in fact still images of moving pictures. Anyway, sadly we missed two gigs from Juliet Lewis and the Licks on Saturday and from Morrissey this very night, both I guess exquisitely worth seeing but I’ll skip this.Apart from these, Sunday night was a movie night as it turned out… and we watched Babel…. This one was really great… Such a crafty director, I can’t recall his Spanish name, with so many things to say.
So, with no gigs nor clubbing it was a rather intellectual weekend. I guess the craziness was missing but so did the consistent hang over.

The following picture was taken on Friday… I had been seeing that derelict car for some days in the same place and I was thinking that with the wood factory behind it, looks like it’s from a different old era and deserves to be photograph so here it is…

Thursday is already yesterday but anyway

2006-11-24T21:38:00.000+02:00

You only can tell

I know
There’s a song
I haven’t heard yet
But it’s really my favorite one

I know
There’s a poem
I haven’t read yet
But it’s speaks right to my heart

And the tree
I didn’t happen to come across to yet
But I’m amazed by how many big its roots are
That keeps it steady at the ground
Don’t tell me it’s not for real

And don’t tell me
That the view
I haven’t yet seen
Does not really exist

Because every time
I close my eyes
I can find myself there
Easily, again and again

A short story I wrote

2006-11-20T22:22:00.000+02:00

Eye contact

An odd urban tale

During an era, a strange contagious virus launched its deadly action in one of the most highly- populated cities of the world. Its potency was so radical that it managed to utterly annihilate its residents within a few days. Its spread extended to the next city and later on to the next one. It didn’t take more than a week and the entire expanse of the Western civilization was being endangered by that new and sudden threat.
Its high- scaled impact was so unexpected and unprecedented that the scientists from all around the world, decided to unite their knowledge and their skills for the first time in the chronicles, in order to find a quick and effective fix for that inexplicable predicament.
Transfers and contacts between the ill Westerners and the unaffected population of the Eastern world were prohibited. Airplanes and boats anchored in land and the economic world collapsed in the same way a child’s tower in the sand falls apart, when the first wave inundates it, due to the cruel but –must say- necessary restricts.
At that time, people were living in panic. It was hard for them to integrate the frequent spectacle of the dead bodies being lied down on the streets and the subways, or the pavements and nearly everywhere else, in their everyday routine. In that mess, not all dead could get buried (some even didn’t have relatives or friends to seek for their corpses) and every city was using the same procedure to get rid of the supernumerary bodies. A few drains of a brown liquid made from a combination of chemical elements were the magic filter, able to decompose the human flesh within two seconds or less from the time it would come in contact with it. It was so toxic and so effective on burning, or to put it better, on vanishing the lifeless flesh but unpleasant smells weren’t occurring. If you were present in the place and the time one of the many times the event was repeated, you would feel like what you had just watched was something almost magical. The body was disappearing in front of your eyes in a flick of a moment. As if it had never even been there in the first place! This may was even more shocking than the body itself. Perhaps if someone was in great hurry, he wouldn’t be able to know for sure if he had seen the “polish” or if he had just imagined it.
The virus’s last stop was the city where Jean and Jane had grown up and continued living. They were so young and so in love with each other but in no case they could be described as two careless youngsters, beside their great enthusiasm about their recently- built relationship. And how could they be careless when the whole universe and primarily (for them) their lives were in such great jeopardy…
Not many precautions could be taken so that they could feel safe from the danger, except one. The bizarre killing virus, whose identity and cause of birth was still remaining a riddle, was imparting from a people to the other through the contact of the eyes. Yes, quite odd, but in that epoch, way too many odd occurrences were taking part in general that this was not taken aback those people. Healthy men and women would get sick and eventually die in ten or eleven hours from the contagion and all this by looking in the eyes a contaminated person. No symptoms were visible during the left over space. They were just loosing their senses when the sly virus had reigned in every single cell of their blood.
One of those days, Jean came back home and before he get inside to the living- room, where Jane was watching the latest news about the goings- on of the pandemic that had crushed their city too, he told her very seriously and anxiously not to turn and look him in the eyes. Full of concern and probably by instinct, the woman turned her look straight to his. Possibly instinctively too, Jean had already covered it with his two hands only a flash of a moment before. Jean went on talking in this way, without removing his hands from his eyes and told to his lover that their neighbor and friend from the next apartment, Todd, stopped breathing just before they both reach their destination stop at the subway. It was clear that he was affected and Jean was sure that he had too, since they had spent a lot of time, one sitting next to the other talking and it was inevitable to exchange a glance or two, despite the fear that was making everyone striving to avoid other people’s eyes at that time.
Upheaval occurred to the wagon right afterwards, since everybody around feared that they may had been affected by the dead man. If there was one to have the virus in his blood, everyone near him was a probable virus- carrier, as well.
The subway’s guards realized what had happened in that wagon only after all passengers had gone. That saved their lives because policemen and army forces were authorized to shoot everyone who was suspicious to carry the virus.
Jane took it for granted that her lover was affected but when at night he was still alive they both felt relieved and surprised. Naturally, they couldn’t see this to each other’s eyes because that would kill Jane but they both could feel it and could tell it. It was not logical why the virus hadn’t claimed his life, as it was happening with the rest of the affected people, but they both presumed that his blood was stronger than the virus, or at least enduring to it. Of course, a professional opinion could not be asked since they knew very well which would be Jean’s end if they would announce to a doctor that he was caring the virus.
At that same night a worldwide announcement was released through the total of the media. Scientists weren’t proved capable of finding the solution but the more practical minds did. People from every city the virus had made its appearance, were obliged to stay inside their houses for a day. If any person was being seen in a public place, it was proclaimed that he would get shot. Paradoxically or not, nor even one was shot by authored fires during that day.
This simple restriction appeared to be the most powerful of all actions against the pandemic. During that time, the affected got killed by the deadly molecule and the healthy ones didn’t come in contact with them. When the imposed curfew came to its end, the virus had died with its last carrier. A few days later, all that history seemed like a bad past joke which everyone seemed to had totally forgotten everything about it and all had returned back to their everyday routine again or at least they were pretending they had.
A year later and after their night out in the club they first met, Jean announced to Jane that he wanted to leave her. They had spent a year not seeing each other in the eyes (Jean had managed finely not to have eye contact with every person he was meeting at streets and everywhere else; fortunately, as time was passing by this was getting easier and easier) and this turned out to be more important than they both had though it would be, in the beginning. The lack of that kind of contact between them was the main reason that made Jean’s inner gaps and insecurities grow. He was feeling like he wasn’t sure if there was still alive the sense of trust and sincerity between them. It was like they were cursed to be near to each other but being like they were living miles apart. It was almost terrifying, to be so close but at the same time to be divided by an enormously huge space; because even though all of their feeling were poisoned, they were still remaining deeply in love. Jane was feeling the same way but she couldn’t possibly imagine herself apart from her partner. She tried to convince him think otherwise but he had already made his mind and they both knew that this couldn’t change.
Jean took his coat from the chair beside the door. He turned to say goodbye and at that moment he wished he never had. Jane looked him straight in the eyes, probably purposely, and as a natural reaction Jean looked her back. Everything they hadn’t said for a year was said just in that moment.
At night, Jane was the last victim of the virus and Jean a sad man.

End of story

CHECK IN

2006-11-16T20:22:00.000+02:00

Some time ago, I heard a song on the radio and I can't exactly recall the tune but it was saying I guess, about a blue hotel. I don't know if this a classic song, it sounded like one at least and I'm not going to do guessing cause if it's a really well- known song I'm not aware of it, I'll may feel kind of emparassed. So, if anyone knows about which song I'm talkning about, just let me know..
So, I thought I should write a poem about a blue hotel too, which you can read right down below...
I also knew what the prompt was all about and even though I had already decided that I would post this poem, I guess it fits if I'll add... I lie about the blue hotel.

Blue hotel

Blue hotel
Where people come and go
But never really leave
Blue hotel
Where drinks flow
Like high waterfalls
And music never seems to stop
Blue hotel
Where women mesmerize
Men with money inside
Their pockets
And have a certain price
For their meager fleeting kiss
Blue hotel
Where no one gets out of it unscathed
Blue hotel
Where no one gets less suffer than delight

LOST AND FOUND

2006-11-13T23:17:00.000+02:00

Really glad, cause for some time I couldn't use my own PC due to some problems with the line I can't tell for sure since I'm totally ignorant when it comes to technology... but now it's working just fine (add this to the reasons I couldn't post as frequent as I wanted all this time).
So, right now, I guess I'll get the chance to post and for different reasons than the poetry... Not that the poetry itself isn't good enough but this is not all me...
At the moment I stay just with that, adding just that for the past couple of days I'm rapt with "Lost"... I know, I hate it when I spend time just watching DVD'S or the telly but don't you thik that this show deserves it...? I know it's not educative or constructive or anything, but although many of the programms we watch on the screen are ditasteful for me cause they just stupefy the viewers, not giving them the time to think about what they are watching, this makes me think and think what is might going on and what's it all about... OK it's not Nitche but at least it is something...

COUNTDOWN

2006-11-09T12:57:00.000+02:00

This poem is may not related with the prompt, but it is with my own previous post. In that, I may was joking a bit too, but what I tried to say, was that there are times you feel off your way or not loyal to yourself. The moment I wrote this poem, I didn’t have in my mind the “fooling yourself” thing, but back then, it was a period with a couple of misfortunate events and I wanted to create a shelter I could see nowhere at that time…
As it seems it fits for both of the situations

PS I know I said I woldn't write anything, at least for a little while, but in truth I actually haven't. There are still two poems left and they have been writen because of poetry Thursday and I'll participate until tey're all posted.

Some times

There are times
You might feel astray
And your only yearn is to get lost
In one of those millions of ballad songs

And there are times
You might feel off your way
And you only look for shelter
In one of those millions of happy ending tales

And you only know you walk this path
When you realize it’s pointless
To still hold as your grip
A moment that has passed

And you only know you’re in that path
When you realize your wish
From world stop spinning for a second
Was way too much to even ask

VARIATION

2006-11-06T16:14:00.000+02:00

Doing one thing after the other, like almost a complete lunatic, doesn’t really allow me to have the proper time to just sit relaxed in front of this screen, like I do this very moment, and drop a line or two for my blog. Well, at all other occasions I should feel blessed, because I’m the one who always say that real life is where real people are and where you can really have actual experiences, interacting or just feeling a total dump incapable of tracking high- speed evolutions everything and everyone is following.
But the thing is, I really miss having a few moments to write anything here or to think what I should write about, and happily right now I have some. But I don’t know what to write about, so I’ll write just about anything that will cross my mind. Be ready I can be very impulsive….
So, first of all I want to make a comment about me blogging only for poetry Thursday lately. This may is good, cause otherwise I wouldn’t post about anything and I what's more, I also had to punch my head once or twice to get some ideas, which is tambien good, but I feel like my blog doesn’t represent me anymore… simply because I don’t feel like a poet, not even an amateur. I just write in occasions I want to express all that I feel, and though it’s such a personal procedure I’m glad I’ve shared it with the few people that have read them and I’m thankful for all of the kind words I got from time to time.
Despite for exchanging opinions with some people I wouldn’t in other ways and I have read some great pieces of works, I feel like I may won’t be able to participate for much longer. I mean, I have a couple of poems still reserved on my pc folders but after those, I don’t feel like I can write for some time. It’s already been some time I haven’t written anything and I feel like I took what I could from this mean of expression, I hope there were a couple of good outcomes also, and we both got a little bit tired from the “relationship’ we developed. It’s like when you go for “one night stand” and you keep seeing each other for a little more but then it gets more serious than what you had reckoned in the beginning and you are in the point where you either have to stop or see it with a different look… Anyway, I hope the flame will eventually come back and feel like writing again. Maybe I should give a chance to my stories I dropped all this time, or just write nothing for some time. Literature will get more beneficial if I’ll act in this way I guess. And I’ll just be fine going to the gym…
So, let me think… other than poetry… will this blog represent me more if I write random trivial things like for example … I got a new hair cut last Wednesday and I have my hair really short now but I love it, even though I feel my head cold when I walk at mornings for work? Or that, last Thursday was full of angst cause I had a presentation of my essay in the faculty but everything went fine and I really liked one of my examiners...? I gave her a compliment afterwards, she seemed like responding! Not the way come in my bed, but thanks you just earned an extra point…
Or would my blog become more “me”, if I wrote that I was so tired from everything during the whole last week and I spent Friday night as I should, which means I went to the movies…? I watched “devil wears Prada” and I think it was amusing by the way, or should I just write that it doesn’t matter what I should write or not, as long it reflects me and don’t feel like blogging is a waste of time…?
Ps I wish everyone reading this, if you feel like loosing yourself by doing something or for someone just leave it aside…

THURSDAY'S CHILD

2006-11-02T11:19:00.000+02:00

PORCELAIN

A porcelain young girl, woke up from her sleep
She had lost her pearl, in a well way too deep
Though this was only a dream, a dream that she had
The echo was vivid, it was an echo so sad

Her mom wore her robe on, and came in to see
As she had sensed the upheaval, her girl might had been
But her young girl was missing, she wasn't still there
And as if she was frozen, she left there to stare

But then she saw from the window, through the half- opened blind
Her girl walking drowzy, but her tread was leaving no hint
And when she eventually found her, looking down at the well
She noticed her bracelet, with the one missing pearl

Here it is one part of a poem I like
and it's writen by Joseph Conrand

Only a moment;
a moment of strengh,
of romance, of glamour,
of youth...
A flick of sunshine
upon a strange shore,
the time to remember,
the time for a sigh, and -goodbye!

TYPICAL THURSDAY

2006-10-26T14:59:00.000+03:00

I so wanted to post this poem I wrote last week, though its bizzare structure(it's actually a dialogue between two former lovers) makes me feel all insecure and weird about the reaction of those who might read it...
Just because I in general like trilogies of all kinds, I made one of my one. This poem completes as a unit two previous poems of mine, The same all songs and Hollow you can read by clicking upon them.
As I have writen before, not all of those I occasionally write are inspired from personal experiences and whether the protagonist of these three poems is me, or some parts of me during different periods, or just a fictional heartbroken persona(I'd vote for that last one) with some experiences stolen from me or just people who make me want to write something about them, I think that everyone can identify himself at some points with that person...
I wrote this last poem because I thought that someone who suffers all that longing and still scratching the place where his/her memories are resting(that's what is happening in the first two), deserves some kind of treat. This treat/favor could only be some moments with the former lover, even if this meeting is just an illusion.

The probable meeting

We would at first be so happy
To meet again so abruptly
After all that enormously long time

I’d say let’s have a cup of coffee
Or is it gin tonic what you prefer
And you’d be like, I’m late for work
But anyhow, I was about to quit in any case

I’ve been in this business
For four bloody years
And I still find myself where I began
Yes, and I just got out of a relationship
And I’m sorry cause it was my longest one
I mean after the one we had…
It's just that we had this three months crisis overwhelming us

Is this the armlet I gave you the day before you leave?
I didn’t think you’d notice, I was hoping at least
But it’s my luck and by now my second skin
Though it has grown fainter but I’m glad you haven’t

You look pretty much the same too
And your taste in clothes got all improved
Well, drop that and tell me everything that’s new
It’s been much
I really don’t know from where to begin…

I got to get this bus, but this was unexpected
I mean great and I guess invigorating
I might call you some day
You haven’t changed your number, have you?

Gosh, now I see what I’ve missed about you the most
The way you look when you talk and smile and seem
Like “playful” at the same time
But I can’t hear you behind that glass
Tell the driver to stop, or just call me someday
I haven’t changed my phone just in case you’d call
(But you haven’t and it’s fine if you won’t)

THURSDAY

2006-10-19T16:04:00.000+03:00

This time I post nothing related to the prompt but a poem I wrote a few months ago...

Hollow

Today I felt like I garnered tons of respect
but this was just not quite enough
I also gained a price for my life long contribution
but this didn't make any difference at all, either

At noon my friends got me a surprise party
I admit i didn't expect after all these years that they do the same
And my kitty gave birth to eight healthy fluffy kittens
I was just sad to have to give away

A new show launched on TV this afternoon
and producers promised it to be more violent and pretentious than ever
And as if this was not already enough
I got myself a limited- edition cardigan
I was definitely not in need of
but all my colleagues had purchased even a month ago

This day was long,
because depite all these I was trying to find you between the crowd
or at the subway and the bar I had my brunch served
But I could see you you nowhere
and that dessicated my chances to absorb life and bliss
And all I did was counting the hours 'till night to come
and think of the day before, we weren't apart

LEMONPIES

2006-10-13T09:56:00.000+03:00

Even though I’m the type of person who most of the times likes to explain everything that goes around him and is always trying to find hidden meanings and read between the lines (even the times there’s nothing there to explore) I know that in this way magic and surprise and unprecedented goes away…
This is the reason why I didn’t want to write anything about explaining where the name of my blog came from…. I mean, the name, it’s not totally bizarre or anything extravagant but for me these three words “lemon pie” and “dreams” mean something together and I want to share it with anyone reading this.
So, “dreams” don’t symbolize anything else from the way we know them, dreams are for me as for everyone else something we want to fulfill some day, something we haven’t achieved yet but the prospect of accomplishing of the thing we crave for make us feel warm and happy just thinking of it.
“Lemon pies” on the other hand, symbolize in this case the thing of what someone might is dreaming of. Just because I have never ever tasted one but for a reason I can’t identify sounds absolutely delicious to me, makes me parallelize them with my dreams that I haven’t make come true yet but I believe that when I will, the feeling will be a very pleasant one.
Because in a way, I think that it’s true that we don’t really know how it is actually like achieving our biggest dreams and aspirations until we do, since when we do and we know they are not dreams anymore but a fact, and until that moment we only imagine how it might would be like. And that’s how I feel with the lemon pies. I believe that they must taste great but I can’t tell for sure. But I can always hope that they will taste fantastic as my biggest dreams will feel like when I’ll experience them.

SUBJECT FROM THE MEDIA

2006-10-12T14:04:00.000+03:00

A couple of weeks ago I watched an Oprah kind of imitation show in one of the Greek networks and the shocking story made me want to post something in order to point out some wonders I had, but I then didn’t cause I was afraid that I’d just “talk” in general and with no actual purpose and significance so I dropped it. But this Monday when I read what the prompt was all about I thought that I should use the issue as my subject, believing that in this way it makes sense to refer few of the things I watched.
So, here is the narrated story by that, obviously kind of retarded, woman at that show which made think some things.
Well, she said that she had killed her own child when it was only two or three and now she’s out of jail only having been in there for, I guess if I remember correctly, about seven years.
The whole story made think of the following (except for that there’s no justice in the world; can you believe it? Sentenced only for seven years for claiming the life of her child… is that a sufficient punishment or enough time for reformation, no matter which her alibis, I can see other than paranoia probably, might were?) : a) are people fully responsible for their acts or the main part depends on the environment they have grown, their nature, their intelligence or the lack of it, or anyway the exterior elements/circumstances that have shaped their idiosyncrasy?
b) Can people who have done really awful actions that are inhuman or against the law ever overcome them just by suffering for some time what law obliges them to do (spending time in jail, the most common) or they are always caring in the shoulders the burden of remorse?

So, in this poem I tried to deal with these two things: the two opinions about, until which level someone can say he’s not responsible for his own actions* and if no matter the punishment, how elastic or harsh it is, can a person ever be able to feel weightless again in truth, after having done something so outrageously bad and abnormal.

*I believe we are fully responsible for whatever we do, good or bad, because the exterior elements that are shaping us and making us to a point who we really are, can always be filtered from the individuals, and those elements are consisting in the end who we really are in the total, so it’s us not something outside us.

PS God I could never study sociology (back in high school I wanted to) cause just by this issue it seems to me that it is such a difficult science having to do with all these troubling matters.

Can you believe that I didn’t want to write so much in the first place and I just only intended to do a small introductory reference for that show? Enough, let’s get to the poem…

Dazzling Aphrodite cursed apostate

Dazzling Aphrodite
Why have you enchanted
All of those men?
You are probably mistaken
It was my beauty
It was not me

Cursed apostate
Why have you betrayed
All of those loyal men?
You are probably mistaken
I did it for the money
And my family
I didn’t do it for me

Dazzling Aphrodite
And how do you sleep
Knowing that those men’s wives
Shed tears in your name?
You are probably
Too innocent
And too far to see

Cursed apostate
And how don’t you weep
Knowing that those men’s families
Shed tears in their past virility winning- fame?
You can’t be blamed
For being incompetent
Comprehending the burden of being me

And because it’s got so typical of me to post two poems occasionally, here is one I won’t think twice if I should post it or not cause I would do the second and I consider it is rather funny not say silly. I hope it’s amusing anyhow…

Life must be a joke

Two flies are doin’ it
Right there on my left shoe
This must be it
This must be the greatness of life

And two infidel penguins
Are exiled
In the Southest part of North Pole
This must be it
This must be the greatness of love

And while I was expecting a promotion
I got dismissed
From my formerly established job
Well, this must be it
This must be the greatest of all

BODY

2006-10-06T11:43:00.000+03:00

Ok... this time I decided that I should follow the prompt though I couldn't get that inspired (I mean, I don't think that the outcome, the poem down below, is the best I could write, but I guess I' m not that bothered by that). The "body" as an issue is so interesting and controversial because there are so many opinions about it, but all of them come around two main scopes. Some neglect it and some praise it. I support the latter perception.
There are religions that tell people to starve themselves and punish their bodies and make it suffer so that they can find peace and salvation at the after life. There are magazines and the media that force young girls in a very sly way to go skinny. There are people who feel ugly and can't stand themselves because the picture they have in their minds about how they should look, it's not the one they face when they look at the mirror. And there are those who declare that the body is the temple of the soul and so on and on.
For me, the body is a tool, a vehicle, a medium to feel and express my feelings, a wise mechanism and so many other things I can't think of right now....Anyway, the poem that comes after was written not only because I wanted to overcome my last afternoon tendency to stay idle by using this way as an exercise for my bored brain but primarily because I wanted to find out which my aspect specifically is about the theme and how I could express it through this form....

It could most likely be this

They tried to hide their emotions
In scraps made of cotton or silk
And for a while
They covered their weaknesses
By working out countless hours at the gym

Neglect and punishment
But they’re still at the same skin
Wise but hurt from junk food and nicotine
If only they could take a moment and let it speak

I wonder if they never had a scar
Which made them seem special and unique
I wonder if they’ve never been the lovers
Who seem like one person while they sleep

So obscure, so beautiful,
So powerful
Like almost, as a small miracle is

I wonder if they never had a wound
Which healed alone, just by the help of time
I wonder if they’ve seen the mothers
Who hold their newborns for the very first time

So close, so mysterious,
Such tense
Like almost, as electricity is

It could be this
Nothing but pure electricity…

It could most likely be this…

JOURNAL

2006-10-06T11:41:00.000+03:00

During the last period (most of the September specifically) I didn't have the time to post as frequently as I wanted to, and I was just doing it when I was to post something either for Poetry Thursday or for Photo Friday, my new blog hobbies, which fortunately raised dramatically the traffic of my blog and I'm thankfull for that...(although I guess that I still feel that this blog is interesting only for me).
Anyway, apart from that up until now I I think I never posted anything that could be characterized as some kind of a journal or a description of the actual and everyday occurences that go on in my life, today I feel that I want to deviate a little bit from this unwritten rule of mine which says never share your personal data through internet and I'm going to write about the point that my life is at this moment.
That's because I aknoweledge that I'm kind of in a turning point and it's time to see what I've done or haven't done so far and reorganize or just organise more properly everything I'm up to, so that I can define, as much as the exterior sircumstances allow me to, my track... (And all September I was doing nothing else but making desicions and organising stuff and this was the main reason I couldn't find time to post).
So... Dear diary,
The whole month was quite frenzy,,,, You see, I was trying to control all these things one man is hard to, but I guess you don't know what I'm talking about cause you are not a 22 y.o frustrated male, you are just a diary, and right away I'll try to be more specific....
Ok, I finally passed all the classes in the faculty(only two or three left, does that count?) and the following semester I'm going to work in order to fullfil my practice semester so that I can get the diserable degree. And believe me, I had many things to take in mind in order to choose the bussiness that fits better to my purposes and my aspirations. That's because the city I live in, is not that big and there are not so many opporunities to find a decent company that has to do with Marketing and stuff.(That's the field I want be occupied in the future... Really blurred inside my head this moment, but I'll pursuit it the hardest I can). So the majority of my choices was restricted to working at a bank (the worst choise but with good money), a random company that I wouldn't learn anything there and I would have to be occupied at their account department(exquisitingly boring) or be extremely lucky and find a really interesting unoccupied position at a big coorporation I could discern nowhere at the ones my faculty had announced it was optional... Hard task, don't you think?
Well, after a month of endless searching and anticipation, innumerous phone calls and interviews, I got lucky... Thank God... Yes, the owner of a coorporation with many activities in the field of technology and internet among others gave me a call and after the arranged meeting which went really well, he offered me a job for the next six months. There are a lot of prospects also but the important thing is that for the next few months I'll have the chance to be occupied in something I really wanted and searching for and explore my potentialities also because that's actually the first time that I' ll work in a job that has to do with my studies...
So, this big chapter which demanded many hours of contemplation all this time, closed, or opened very optimistically.
Despite that which absorbed most of my time and my power, I just tried to stay focused and read in order to pass the left classes(I didn't go that well) and put an order to all the chaos that makes my life interesting(I guess). I enrolled to a class and I'm starting lessons of espanol, si, espanol, and I don't know, I'm trying to do things (learn a computer program per se) to build my CV.
As you can understand my one day old diary , I feel exhausted and relieved...
At all others, things rolled as always. Some days I'm either trying to be active and creative and having a good time and the rest I'm trying to relax and take a break from being active and creative and resourceful and and and, so that I'll be fully active and and and, the next day. Everyday is usual and unique.

THURSDAY ALREADY

2006-09-28T14:29:00.000+03:00

Ok… for this Thursday I came with two poems… Two poems together only for a reason. Well, I started writing the other day and it was really complicated because even though I wrote them pretty easily (yes, sometimes it’s hard but some others words flow like water) and I was only intending to write one, some time in the middle I realized that I had to separate what I had wrote ‘till that moment in two poems because it was obvious that the formation was of two kind. So, I kept on with two pieces of paper and I don’t know if I’m writing the totally same thing in “barren sea…” and in “time to…” but they both began at the same time and finished simultaneously also. Well I guess, they are probably two brother- poems and it would be a shame to post them one at a time. Don’t you think?
Ps Although the optional idea could be proved very inspring cause it was really special and fantastic, I didn't have the appropriate time to be involved with, so I just have to post these two that have nothing to do with the prompt. But I think that it will be equally amazing to just read all of yours versions about the meaning and the interpretetion of "synaesthesia".

A barren sea of flowers

A smile and a touch,
The breath of fresh air
You value and protect it

A memory and a glance,
The step forward you dare
When it’s less expected

A scent and a hope,
The barren sea of flowers
You nurture and extend it

A friend and your resilience,
The conflict with your encounters
That made you feel respected

A time to remember

There are clouds and stars
Depicted in your eyes

There are hopes and dreams
To choose from and to feel nice

Like the last time
You raised your hands
And thought that you could almost touch the sky

Like the last time
You clapped your hands
And laughed while most likely you could cry

And yes,
Like that moment
You felt for the first time special
And didn’t care if one day it comes your turn to die

ONE MORE SUBMISSION

2006-09-21T15:12:00.000+03:00

Poetry Thursday here you are again. To tell the truth I got happy that there was no such strict theme this week, because I guess I’m not that good writing something by order (I hardly manage to write whatever comes in my mind and put it in the form of a poem, anyway) and secondly because I had already written the poem below since last week.
Anyway, the optional idea was to write something liberally and as everyone really feels. With few words, to unlock a pressed feeling if not a pressed self and get in touch with his real emotions. And I think the already mentioned poem of mine has a connection with that, by luck. Or at least that’s how I conveniently like to see it.
Now about the poem… So, someone could say that the protagonist of this poem is a hopeless illusionist but I definitely don’t see it this way. I think that he just tries to regain the lost contact with his feelings/intuition/neglected self whatever… That’s the reason I wrote it anyway, and this was my guide line and attempt. And the bond with the prompt I think it’s in the part that when someone tries to find a part of his self he no longer knows where and when was left, or a lost feeling or a past ability then he definitely hits upon and expresses a very sincere and true part of his self.

Sounds

So blurred
As if I was just asleep,
A little girl took me by the hands
And leaded me to a path
So long and so steep
“Hey man, can you hear
The rustle of the leaves?” she told
And it was weird
Because after she said, I did
Even though there was no air
To make them move, at all

And someone
Told me
The other day
On an overcrowded street
“Hey you, don’t you just love
This disregarded song?”
And it was weird
Because without thinking I said “yes”
But as hard as I later tried to find
There was no place this music could come from
And if there was
Someone must have had already
Turned the voice off

And I don’t know
If this was real,
But I think I asked a crying stranger
“Why these tears are flooding
Your eyes?”
And when he said
“Because a rabbit just caught up
On a hunter’s iron trap”
I felt guilt I couldn’t hear
The clicking sound before,
Though someone could say “it’s ok
This happened far
On the other side of the world”

But above all
What really startled me more,
Was when I heard your steps
First on the hall and later on
On the stairs
Even though I knew you weren’t there
And I had to shake my head twice
But then I guessed that I wasn’t wrong
Probably because even if you miss
I know exactly the path you are on

Bright

2006-09-17T14:59:00.000+03:00

Alright, I guess I am into this Friday photo thing too. My first submission and the theme is “bright”. I’ve taken this photo sometime during June if I remember correctly and it depicts the shadow of my friend and the sun at the mud.
I think that it’s amazing that the brightness of the sun is always more perceptible and pointed out at the most contradictory surfaces.

TAKE TWO

2006-09-14T10:50:00.000+03:00

For poetry Thursday i got two poems this week. I tried to be loyal to the prompt though they are both about how many different things a person can be and how many emotions can adopt than a person become a total different one...

Well, I had written this poem a few days before the prompt and I thought that it could fit somehow, by modifying a little the last paragraph. So, I’ve changed it and I like it more in this way and there is stronger relationship with this week’s subject. In a way, it became more meaningful and “whole”. But later on when I read it thoroughly, I realized that it was very pessimistic and the character who experiences all that I’m describing hadn’t taken the good from the bad, so I guess by not learning from the misfortunes he/she became a witness, turned him/her into a non- worthy mentioning character. So, at the end I added one more paragraph, so at least there is an option to choose for what fits better. I hope it still remains an indissoluble unity after the alterations and the additional part.

When you felt lost/
For the second time born

If one day as you walking,
You mind why that rich man is torn
Well, it’s because all his diamonds
Are either thrashed or long gone

And if one day on a doorway
You ask why the girl ain’t getting home
Then well, her neighbors might tell you
“Her brothers have gone to the war”

Yet, if a woman in a garden
Sighs a sorrowful sad tone
You’ll know that probably her roses
Must’ve been speared by their own thorn

And if a nightingale in a pavement
Perches there cold and alone
Now, it’s because its pinions got wounded
And then both eventually broke

And if at night while you’re strolling
You find that their souls are like yours
Or if you just try to answer
Whether how that day should be called
Well you can easily name it
As the one you lost your world

But if you decide to stop crawling
And stand at the feet that are yours
Or if you feel yourself braver
Than the king who demands back his throne
Well then, this day could be named as
The one you were for the second time born

This one I wrote it right after I read at the blog about the theme of the prompt. Although I guess it’s more like a story with the morphology of a poem. Tricky… At least I believe it’s kind of funny, compared to my blue poem for last week’s submission. I guess I really worked this week. As I wrote at the previous post about Poetry Thursday I see the whole thing as a joyful task and to tell the truth I love tasks…

All me

At the age of four when my parents
Used to take me out with them
I was this kid who its aunts were telling him
To crawl on the floor one more time
Cause I was so good in playing the drug- addict
(What was I thinking? What were they thinking?)

At the age of seven I could do the same
But I could also sing and dance
And that was making my uncles and my aunts
Laugh ‘till their stomach would hurt
And they would later say “How skillful is your kid?”
(Were they feeling that pleased? How were my parents feeling?”)

After that I went to school
And sometimes I was what my teachers wanted
And some others what my classmates telling me I was
So, I could be the good student or the trustful friend
I could be the quietest at the class or extremely loud during breaks
(“How many A’s I got? How many friends I had?”)

And when I eventually grew
I became the lover, the rebel, the happy, the sad
Whatever the circumstance the appropriate me
The whiny, the proud, the child, the dad
But it wasn’t like changing facades, it still is doing whatever it takes
(“Am I changing faces? Or just my face so utterly changes if I make a grimace?”

THE PEOPLE I LIKE

2006-09-13T00:01:00.000+03:00

I don’t know why I’m referring to this issue but since I’m on line and I want to write something to post and nothing else comes in my mind, I’ll walk with this. People I like… Well, I guess it’s quite important for me and it’s worth posting it but yet, not much to say. Because I’ve figured out that there is only one significant criterion I take in mind about whether I like a person or not, even if this is just for the beginning. So probably I’m talking about the first impression. Anyway.
Well, when it happens to meet someone, there’s one strong factor to determine if I’ll like him/her or not. The people I like are the ones who are a little shy when they first meet someone. I like when they have something that is keeping them back. Possibly because that’s the way I am too. But, I don’t want them to be this way because they feel subordinate or something. I like it, when they are stumbling, because they just can’t feel opened from the very begging. Maybe because I’m this kind as well, also. For me the thing that is keeping me back and waiting until I feel opened to express my true self comes from the suspicion I generally feel. Am I to be blamed? I don’t think so. I never get too enthused, to start telling the story of my life at people I don’t know very well. However, I put myself and my idiosyncrasy aside for a while… Let’s get back to others again… I like these people, because I guess that stumbling means that they’re innocent in a way and sincere. They don’t pretend the super cool people who can deal with anyone and don’t feel shy no matter who is the other person. Which is good too, but from my experience with people, I believe that they’re faking most of the times.
Stumbling sometimes can be charming.

THROUGH CABLES

2006-09-09T01:34:00.000+03:00

Tonight I watched a film on DVD which happens frequently of course but this one was really brilliant. It is called "me you and everyone we know", or something like this anyway, and the only reason I’m writing about it, is because the screen writer imparted an opinion, if not a conclusion through one of her characters in the film which was really striking. Well, I ain’t start saying about the whole film and its characters which by the way were especially well-built and multi- leveled but I’ll just stay to that line which in spite of it was just a speedy remark, I still keep thinking of it even now that the film is over.
Well, one woman in the movie said because of an event, that if aids weren’t existed then emails wouldn’t exist either. I believe that this is so true, and of course this is not restricted to be interpreted just for the emails, obviously. I guess this line means that physical/real contact between people nowadays has been replaced by the distant/unharmed digital kind of contacts or at least diminished, because people are afraid. It’s a shame that it involves some many jeopardizes and parameters to have an actual connection with somebody else.
So I guess it also means that the safety, distance provides people with is some kind of an instinctive precaution, maybe they/we take. So, the second conclusion I effortlessly can agree with, is that people feel more alienated now more than ever, not because they conveniently prefer to use the technology mediums to get in contact with others rather than with a more immediate way, but the way the world has changed and “progressed” leaded the majority of people to choose this way. After all, it may is just a natural and instinctive aversion to threats that there’s imputed in everyone’s genes since the day we are born, that makes some (or a lot) people act in this way.
PS Well, what about me choosing to point this issue out and mention it through internet and not through a different way… I guess as oxymoron and paradox can be regarded more easily as an actual phenomenon…
PS2 I had to "edit" this post and add this 2ond ps because after trying to publish it and "view" it after clicking the named button it was just impossible... The page could not be found or shown in my screen due to an error. Do you think technolology itself rebelled because I was kind of judging it...? Well, I don't think so... Probably a coincidence which made me smile... OK Let's see now...

I GUESS IT'S FINE IF IT AIN'T RHYME

2006-09-07T13:36:00.000+03:00

It’s been a while I haven’t posted anything but I’m here again with a post definitely different from the previous ones.
Well, this time I decided to post a poem I wrote some time ago and furthermore I let it be included amongst others in the Poetry Thursday blog which is a place I found out recently and has to do obviously about poems and stuff. As the matter of fact, I’m thrilled to do so, because even though I’m not that much into poetry I see it as an interesting weekly beneficial task and I’ll definitely try to participate the more frequent possible. To tell the truth, this is just the second poem I’ve ever written after many years that I had wrote the first one and you can read it by clicking here.
For some reason, I can’t identify, I want to say(or more precisely type) that although I’ve “published” in my blog some of the short stories I have wrote quite easily, when it comes to poems I really feel hesitant to act similarly. Maybe it’s because I don’t consider myself as that skilled in the subject but that’s the way I feel about my stories too. I just do it for the fun and the liberation they offer. So my doubtfulness still remains a riddle even to myself.
Now that I think about it, maybe my second thoughts come from the conclusion I’ve reached that people sometimes are cagier and more critical with poems than they are with other forms of art or expression, like stories or song lyrics per se. But yet I don’t know if this version explains my dread to expose my “poetical self”. Anyway, obviously the important thing for me is that my hesitation didn’t stop me from “publishing” it because it’s right underneath though I keep thinking that making it such a big issue, it’s kind of weird…isn’t it?
To my defense, I know that in general, I always need some kind of a “push” or a motivation to do things and not be reluctant but this time I definitely managed to beat my inborn indecision. And this time I beat it for good since I let this be known and from a separate blog apart from mine and I know that people who really have an interest in poetry might visit my cyberspace and check what mine is all about…
It’s already been a big introduction and I wouldn’t mind if you skip, but allow me to add some more. Some more about the poem below itself…
Well, I guess that it’s not a very happy one, (do they ever?) and while reading it, I figured out that it’s about dark feelings and situations someone might goes through from time to time such as loneliness, loss, separation, futility, learning to live along with a grudge, time passing by and a bunch of some others maybe. Interpreting is a very personal and subjective procedure, so it can almost be about everything…
To end, I explicate that I use the phrasal “figure out” because even though I was the one who wrote it I only realized its meaning afterwards while reading it. During the process, I was just kept writing and writing without thinking anything, and without having in my mind a specific situation or experience. Of course, it certainly reflects the way I was feeling at the point I wrote it and possibly some experiences of mine or from people I know but nothing in particular. As writing I was thinking that it’s about a bunch of unrelated craps but afterwards I saw that it can actually make sense despite the lack of apparent cohesion and metre…

The same old songs

The same old songs
And a faded picture of you,
I stumble on the curled up carpet
As I’m moving to the kitchen

A lifeless house
I still can’t get used of seeing so well tided- up,
Your stuff is no longer in it
And so are not your clothes
That once had totally overtaken my closet

And yet my look is blurred,
Even though I’m out of tears
And the last ones have already
Reached their way to the floor

My attempts so vain
That it’s getting ridiculous,
I’m not going to laugh about myself
Cause that would make me like the ones
Someone cries about

Oh Gosh it’s already been so many years,
So many years
But yet it’s like it was yesterday,
How can it feels like it was just yesterday?

I’ve changed but that’s inevitable
And above me,
You’ve changed too,
What made you think that time wouldn’t affect you?

I can’t act like I don’t know you anymore
You’re like me and I’m like you
Our only difference is
That I could see it while you couldn’t

I’m still listening to those old songs
And I’m still whispering their tone,
From time to time I miss a word
But that’s ok
Since I’ve learned to be missing you

THE REST OF THE PHOTOS

2006-08-17T16:02:00.000+03:00

The previous day’s afternoon I was having a conversation with a friend about the whole “I was working during the festive days” theme and we ended up the issue agreeing that it’s just that as always “you win some you loose some”. There’s always this trade in life and it’s a fair trade, I think. This time I’m not complaining. I just chose to loose some of the time with friends and experiencing the local habitual excitements of these celebration days because I assumed that what I would gain from working was at this point more important than that. Anyway, I just wrote that to connect it with the rest of the photos I wanted to upload and here they are…

I look tired, I am tired, but who cares, I won

Lion Queen

The local fête is more likely a bazaar- obviously, for people with no taste

Is it fair for the rest two, the indicated blonde to be named doll as well, when she seems to have a neck problem and one of her eyes drowsy????????

15

2006-08-16T16:18:00.000+03:00

The last days in every corner of Greece people were celebrating -with every way imaginable- the Assumption of the Virgin. It is also described as the Easter of the summer but for me it was days of great exhaustion …
Well, while everybody around was having fun I was working and I was watching them being in the greatest excitement possible… At least that’s how it seemed like, probably because I was on the other side…
My friends were all here. The ones who live away, the ones who study in distant places, even the ones who originate from my short town but never come back for vacations or just a couple of days.
I’m not whiny, as the matter of fact I was the one who full- consciously chose to spend the entire summer working in a night club apart from the family business. And these last days that the rare- populated town became such a crowded destination it was inevitable that I would have to work each night from 10.30 pm to 7 or 8 am. So, right now I feel really tired but satisfied that I managed to make it through. Because, yes it’s definite that I’m a money whore- as they call it- and whenever I’m proposed a well- paid occupation I hardly can say no, but the reason I also did it was to confirm to myself (I hope) that I can make it under stressful conditions and I can stay focused on what I think it’s the best for me, even when the rest around is celebrating so hysterically!
Last summer I was working as well in the same position but this year’s happenings were…gosh…
I can’t describe the condition of the work when in the place come 1500 people almost at the same time. Thank god I didn’t get a panic attack because everywhere I would turn my head there was a thirsty “clubber” asking for a Bacardi Coke or a Gin tonic or I don’t have idea what the hell else…
But I made it and I’m glad. And I can sit back and relax right now and that’s even more fun than having a night out with your friends on 15 of August.
The times I was feeling like I was loosing my strength and I wanted to find myself on the other side of the bar I was telling to myself that this is a fruitful experience and now I see that it really was. I dealt with polite, rude, abhorrent, beautiful, annoying people and every time I handled it right. I guess. I also appreciated having great time. I stayed disciplined in my own schedule. I managed to find some time to enjoy even a little. I gained money…

The pictures were taken yesterday and they’re (mostly) from my happy hour that I joined my friends and visited the village’s fête.

Afternoon coffee with friends

Voguing at the white bell- tower's base (at church)

You can count the candles to find how many wishes there are

Religious tools for sale

Sell, sell, sell, buy, buy, buy
all crapy things

They call her the "ballerina"

Balloons

Hazardous riders

pictures to be continued...

ABOUT MY DOG LOCO

2006-08-10T15:01:00.000+03:00

This is my dog Loco. It’s been a while that he’s been missing, basically almost a month and a half, and since, I was thinking about writing a post about him or not. Well, this morning I saw this pic and I thought that I probably should.
I really have lost hope to finding him after that long and I really don’t believe that I might see him again. Of course deep inside me I nourish the idea that, almost as theatrically as it happens in the movies with people of course, I may see him somewhere in the future again.
The first couple of weeks after he’s been gone/stolen, my whole family were looking for him everywhere possible. We had informed the people we know as well and there were few times that we were said that he was spotted here or there, or we were getting phone calls from people who knew that were looking for Loco that telling us to go and get him from their neighborhood cause he was there but every time he was mistaken for “somedog” else.
I think that now I have overcame the fact that Loco is not part of our family anymore (cause when were having him it was like he was), and maybe that’s why I decided to write all this. I guess that the reason I didn’t want to write about he being gone is because I didn’t want to realize that he in truth was. My second reason which is probably irrational is because I was feeling guilty being so upset about the loss of just a dog (though he wasn’t only that) when around me are occurring so many unpleasant events. I mean in general. But I believe that if I wasn’t so concerned about Loco, cause I was taking care of him and I was responsible for feeding him etc, how would I be concerned about the rest of the mess that is happening in my small town or world widely….? I guess that this loss is a minor predicament compared to a children living in a third- world country, in high poverty and being under feed and uneducated and and and… These are so irrelevant that it’s even a shame to even say these two are incomparable things… But on one hand, what is going on in our own little microcosm takes a special place from all the other events, event if they are one million times greater than our matters and until considering what is happening on the other side of the world part of our microcosm, we will always mourn about our dog more than a strange ill kid, and one the other hand if I don’t have the sensitivity to become upset about such a close event to me, how would I, about something that is happening so many miles away…

VACATIONS

2006-08-08T20:06:00.000+03:00

I just had an invigorating shower, I wore my clean clothes and got my suitcase unpacked. As it seems, I just came back home from (short-time) holidays.
I didn’t go far, well with the bus it seemed like it was, but it felt like I was in the most cosmopolitan Greek island, which is Mykonos although I wasn’t. Well, let’s just say that I visited the closest substitute of Mykonos from where I live. That place is Chalkidiki and more specifically I visited the coastal village Kalithea. I spend three great days there and besides, I had to deal with different matters which make me think of these days as a quiet an experience.
First of all, on Friday when my friend S. and I got there, we had to deal with the lack of available accommodations to stay. We had to walk around the whole village for an hour and a half under the strong sun and 38° C plus, we had to carry our luggage. Basically, after a quarter, I went on alone and my friend stood in a shadowy place with the cases. During the period I was looking for a decent room to spend the days, I forced myself to capture some signs of the neighborhoods and streets I was passing by because I usually am very disorientated and I tend to loose my way very easily. So, this was one of the few times I didn’t get lost though I crossed a strange place all by myself. Despite that, during the searching there were a couple of times that I felt really frustrated and out of control because all the room and hotel owners were kept telling every time I was asking for a spare room that they were out of and it would be really hard to find one because of the great influx. At the end and as usually happens I found a spare room in the last place that I told myself that this would be where I would look. They told me that there was one free studio but it was just for that day but we took it since no other decent alternative was on the cards. It had a pool also and the price was very reasonable. It was a real luck in our pitiful condition (mine mostly that I seemed drained due to heat) and they could rip us since they had realized that they were our only choice but -paradoxically and thankfully to my eyes they didn’t.
The next day we found just one two- bedroom room and it was so- so lousy. From the entrance you could smell this odd smell the old premises have, there were no warm water for shower, no air-condition or TV, no covers and clean towels and in general I could never spend a single minute there if circumstances were different. At least the view was the most amazing and I have to say that the bad condition of the room forced me to spend the scarce time we were there in the balcony enjoying watching the clean waters.
Except for the room everything else was quite pleasing… We had some great time clubbing and going for swim or going to the village’s famous crowded beach bars and dancing, listening the music and having refreshing drinks. I even smoked a little even though I quit since last November. I don’t know if having a couple of cigarettes that occasionally can harm you… I guess they do, but I relish the idea that even such bad habits are not effective when you practice them that rarely and just for your bliss. Anyway…
Most important, during these last days I kind of felt really good and I caught myself behaving like the 22 year old man that I am. I don’t know if what I’m saying sounds bizarre or anything, but I mean that at least for myself, sometimes I forget that I’m just a young man who needs to have joyful and careless time… Due to my many reasons I tend to forget about having fun and I focus on money, work, school, (sometimes my blog), waking up early in the morning, my parents, my goals or my dreams, my targets and many many other things. Of course, I always find some time to go out or do something that will make me feel good but I guess that whether we like or not as someone grows the times he consciously is doing really amusing things and realizes that and feels appreciative of those become fewer.
In a way I’m grateful that this weekend I had such good time and simultaneously I was aware of it as I was experiencing that…
Here are some of the photos…

The incomparable panoramic view from the lousy room

Headless me, staring at the sea

There where no mirrors in our room, so my dig was playing that part in occasions like "do these clothes fit?"

Sea is better at night

Sea is better at night, I insist

HOW IT FEELS LIKE TO BE A SPONGE IT'S NOT A MOVIE STAR ANYWAY

2006-07-31T22:56:00.000+03:00

Summers are always full of stories. All kinds of stories, actually. And they are some many that even a sponge might had some to tell if it could...

THE LAKEWOLF MYTH

2006-07-11T21:10:00.000+03:00

The bone and the stone...
A short story

When I was very- very young (I frankly can’t recall the exact age) there was a time that I was afraid to sleep because every night I was having awful nightmares.
That time, my lovely grandma would always tell me the same old tale I was in love with, so I can surrender myself to sleep without special difficulty. If I can remember correctly, the story was going somehow like this:
“Very- very long time ago, in a very- very distant forest from where we live and beside a crystalline lake, was living a family … There were four of them and the children, who were two, were one of each kind… A boy and a two- year younger girl…” In this point I would each time go and ask “like me and Jen grandma...?” and she would always agree “Yes honey, exactly. Like you and Jen…” “But…” she would continue “they were all Indians…”. “That as you guess, means that they were looking a little bit differently than you and your sister do… They were wearing pieces of shuttered leather for clothes and even though, they were never feeling cold; they were also having consolidated a couple of eagle feathers in their hair and furthermore, they had the top of their cheeks painted with a thick blue and a red line, each. About their habitual everyday routines, as you can imagine, hunting was for the father, cooking for the mother and tons and tons of playing for the boy and the girl…” In this point I would hide my grin beneath my covers as I was thinking that I would spend all next day long playing as well…
“At night…” she was kept going “they were all gathering around the tall fire and they would laugh and sing, thanking their Gods for the quiet and safe day they had…”
“That was going on each and every single night, but one of those, the children noticed two strange sparkles –in the color of the fire but flashier and slighter- disappearing and showing up again every since and while, at the other side of the lake. At first the kids deemed that those sparkles were probably a pair of fireflies moving, so they didn’t say anything to their parents but the next morning, when they by chance referred the incident to the wise old woman of the forest, she asked them in a really dreadful serious tone, whether what they were telling was true or if they were just fooling around…”
“The kids got shocked by her unexpected sincerity –she in any case used to be a very calmed down person- and subsequently, after a second or two, they both assured her that they were playing no games…”. “After that, the wise woman revealed them that there was an old legend in the area –at least for as long as she was remembering herself- which was claiming that on the other side of the lake there was a wolf –the lakewolf as was named incalculable years ago- and according to it, the lone animal was spending its days watching quietly every move the people from the other side of the lake were making…”. “Not many people could declare and moreover, to be believed that they had actually seen that wolflake and the woman also told them that what was what they had seen, must had been its watchful eyes (its rest features couldn’t be possibly discerned in such dense darkness). Even if there had been many years without a hint or a witness to confirm the lakewolf’s actual presence, no other logical explanation could be given, at least by that wise woman…” “Not much later, the astounded kids pushed the wise woman to say some more about that lakewolf and she referred few of the many tales that had been imparted by word of mouth through the years from their ancestors, who resided before them in that same forest …”
“The ones which impressed the siblings the most, were absolutely contradictory and the first one was alleging that the animal in question was having mysterious healing virtues and had in truth cured some of the rare people who had faced him from a really short distance and were ill and the other one was portraying a wild beast which was pouncing upon whoever had the boldness to move near to it, if he was unlucky to cross it on his way…”
“The next morning, the children visited again the open- air temple where the wise old woman used to spend her days and with one voice they said that something bizarre had happened again…” “They explained that they both had dreamt of the lakewolf, but the boy said that in his dream it had frightening huge teeth ready to tear to pieces his whole body after catching him with its sharp claws and the girl said that she had dreamt of it having soft and beautiful fur and playing together as both sensing that they could fully trust each other…”
“At the end, the woman looked both kids deep in their eyes as if she was indubitably able to guess their thinking correctly…” “I can see what’s on your minds… she said with solid but warm voice”. “If you feel you’re ready to cross the lake and find yourselves on the other side in order to discover the truth between the many tales about the existence or not of the lakewolf, you need to exchange first what, up till this moment, you’re meaning to carry along for the probable meeting…” “You little boy, give the stone you’re intending to get with you to your little sister, but you girl remember to hide it well, so it won’t be able to be seen by anyone –mostly by the wolf- from the first sight… And what is more girl, give your brother the flavorsome -for all wolves- bone because he’s the one who needs it as an amulet… You boy at last… Do not forget to be keeping it in the most obvious for the wolf, place –in case he shows up of course...”
“The children were very puzzled because they were too young to understand what the wise woman had just told them but neither she, could blame them for that…” “As they turned to leave after thanking her for the –despite its obscurity- crucial advice, she stopped them as she said that there was still one more thing to add…”. “She said that they could both instead, let the stone and the bone away, so long as they wouldn’t forget that their wide- opened eyes and the better of their best intentions were very powerful and already more than enough for confronting the animal’s unknown intentions…”
At that point my grandma would turn her look on me and I would have by far been asleep. She would never miss to give me a gentle kiss along saying softly “Goodnight, my dearest son…”

End of story

ETHEREAL

2006-07-08T16:16:00.000+03:00

Thursday 21:30; I watched this lovely Greek singer Eleftheria Arvanitaki giving a unique concert, literally within a hole of a mountain ravine. Despite the fascination, I can’t start talking about the place because there are way too many reasons for to praise it, so I will just focus on the artist.
I had attended one more gig of hers two summers ago and both times I received the same old impression that she is effortlessly capable of signifying the aroma of my country and its smooth summer nights. It’s just something I can’t define about the way she sings and moves on the stage. Perhaps it could be the internal powerful energy that comes out of a thin body.
Above all, I want to point out, related to the previous annotations that I just kept gazing her -astonished- all that night long, communicating with the air that was running through her. It was something magical... It was like she was filtering and getting filtered at the same time by the air that was crossing her way. I kind of almost doubtfully believed in a certain point that her body would follow the orbit that her aerial dress had taken…

in the right way...

crowd gathering...

outside watchers...

so overpriced...

empty stage...

eleftheria...

THASOS ISLAND

2006-07-07T16:56:00.000+03:00

The last days were great! I was on vacation so I got rid of all the stress and obligations which are hunting me during the rest of the days… That’s the purpose of vacations if I get it right… right?
So, I visited the island of Thasos which is in really short distance from where I live.

Thasos is a quiet and small North Aegean island and it’s mostly a destination for families and quiet, probably in need of relaxation, people.

At least that’s what I had in mind before I got there. And to tell the truth I wasn’t totally mistaken but I also saw young visitors from both Greece and Europe which means there were available a few places to satisfy that group of vacationers as well, like pubs and stuff, where the ones who were wanting it could have some enjoyable time… So memorable will be the pub where my friend and I went for three days –or more likely nights- in row, where the music was great and I also contributed significantly in diminishing their beer profusion supplies.

The sea was also amazing and the special about it is that you have to walk for about fifty mtrs until the height of the water surpass the height of your knees…

As regards the room we rented, it was much better than its price but above that, I got impressed by its owners who were more than hospitable and very kind… One day they even offered us stakes and beef for lunch without having the obligation for to…

The unpredictable unfortunate occasion (every trip I guess has) was that weather messed our plans about visiting a couple more distant beaches, since except for the first day, it can described as lousy… Indeed, I was about to lose the high spirit for that but sometime between, I decided not to get influenced by the climate abnormality (heavy periodical storms, wind etc) and keep on with my vacation program. So I kept on swimming, and going out wearing my havaianas like nothing peculiar was actually going on. Maybe now that I think about it I was the peculiar going on…

Right…hum… the second unpredictable unfortunate occasion was that before everything, on our way there, a sea- gull landed on the left side of our car and that was not the start of the journey I had thought about, to tell the truth. But we overcame it easily since not such damage had caused to the car and chiefly the passengers (that includes my sister, a friend and me) weren’t affected neither! Thankfully…

In few words it was a great full weekend… It was about enjoying what a Greek island has to offer… relaxation and memorable moments of fun… And maybe also about nature turning its anger so clearly upon me, for that I can’t find the reason…

PS The soundtrack of those holidays could be “La pared” of Shakira, regarding the frequency of the repetitions...

AMNESIA

2006-06-25T15:55:00.000+03:00

A couple of days ago I was thinking about millions of things to write here but today I can remember none.
Maybe it is that I slept at 7 am this morning and I woke up at 12 am.
Maybe it is that last night I drank a little more than I usually do.
Maybe it is that I tend to get distracted by one more million things (and that’s the way it should be).
Or it is that a friend borrowed me his mp3 and I’m listening around 20 favorite great songs at the same time and I’m absolutely overwhelmed.
Or that I’m only thinking of the sea and I wish I were on a beach right now as I did yesterday all day long.

Comment: I can't help by listening Nancy Sinatra singing Bang Bang over and over again because it's just brilliant. Voice, music, lyrics, theatrical expressiveness. Great great

LLOKEN / PART THREE

2006-06-18T15:49:00.000+03:00

Lloken felt grateful of little Dorothy for offering him the accommodations he needed during his first night in her rural town. He couldn’t imagine where else he could possibly find a place providing him with a roof above his head right that moment, if it wasn’t for that child.
Unluckily, on the other hand, her mother’s reaction wasn’t the one expected exactly. She wasn’t even in position to let her daughter start talking when she faced that strange man standing beside her in their doorsteps. The only thing she managed to do in her fright was to drag the little girl into the house and close the door harshly.
Even though little Dorothy knew that her mother was at all others a very kind and gentle woman, during their way to her home she warned Lloken that in case she had the reaction she eventually had, he should find a temporary shelter in her tree house. She even showed him in which tree it was located when they were crossing the farmyard, but this was totally unnecessary since it was big enough to be obvious even from a lot more meters away.
That “house” was everything she was most yearning for as a child and on the morning of her sixth birthday she found it solidly constructed almost five feet from the ground in the middle of the big plane tree of their farmyard. Her father was a tab hand at stuff like building and fixing old broken tools, so he found it very easy to build within a night that tree- house for his adorable daughter.
Since the morning Dorothy first faced it and parallelized it with a doll house she had spent countless hours there, decorating it with old useless things she was founding in her family’s house. She had spend many afternoons in there with her two best friends, pretending like they were drinking tea like their mothers were doing. Dorothy would invite them and would take care the place before their arrival in order to be everything in its position and after their leaving she would stay a little more feeling satisfied as she would recall every single compliment her friends had done about how beautiful and how spacious her tree house was. It was indeed very large for a tree house and it was so well- groomed as well that it like a micrography of a proper house. Or most likely, of a proper room of a house
The current moist night Lloken was feeling his stomach terribly empty and his body so painfully tired that he felt like the luckiest man of the world when he found a whole packet of chocolate biscuits forgotten under the small bed he was lying. He swallowed the last bite of those and he only dared to give an instantaneous glance outside the small window as he didn’t want to risk to be possibly seen by anyone. He saw that the only house with a light on at that time was only little Dorothy’s. He assumed that her mother would wanted to know about their uncanny meeting and she would probably telling her how dangerous and risky those days were to talk to strangers; let alone to bring them home.
He was troubled enough already and he couldn’t find the strength to think about Dorothy’s pitiable condition any further, therefore he effortlessly surrendered himself into the peacefulness only sleep is sometimes able to utterly provide people with.
The next morning, Lloken woke up to find a basket overstuffed with food that Dorothy had left for him under the plane tree. He descended the extending ladder and then after taking the basket he ran up again in order not to be seen by Dorothy’s mom or a passer-by. He spent all day up there trying to be the quietest he could and only on afternoon little Dorothy went to see him for few minutes and brought along a slice of bread her mother had baked. She said that she couldn’t bring more because her mother might perceive the extra- missing portion.
Lloken thanked her for her generosity and the compassion she showed to him but he said he should have to go the next morning for to find a proper place to stay and start reorganizing his life for once more. In any case, he wasn’t the kind of man who should hide himself from other people or who could cause a trouble with his presence to a child. The little girl didn’t say anything but her look showed that she was of the people who always think beyond their age and are wise enough to let others do their own way.
Almost twenty four hours after his staying in the tree- house, Lloken was felling numbed by the limited moves he was only able to perform inside the disposable restricted area. He had spent the whole day thinking about the previous day’s predicament and also watching the inhabitants through the small crevices between some of the woods the tree- house was built. He hadn’t noticed anything special apart from few louts who were roaming around all afternoon and were chasing a poor stray dog just to make its life more miserable than already was. Despite that, he embraced the idea that those township men were living a quiet life and they may also were good- mannered in general.
The height and position the tree- house was located, allowed everyone who had access on it to have visual contact with all the houses of the small region the village was extended and having an undisclosed eye on the occurrences. Lloken thought that maybe Dorothy as a kid had probably spent a lot of time staying there and watching curiously the goings- on and maybe, she had probably many times become an unnamed witness of concealed events. However, that day the only thing he watched was, ordinary people doing ordinary things. Nothing more extravagant than men coming and going from their works some more tired than the others or women standing for a while in a point of the central road and having a short chit- chat with other women who were crossing on their way.
Lloken’s thoughts weren’t enough to beat the numbness he started felling all over his body and he decided to run down the stairs and have a quick walk for some minutes. He deemed that he wasn’t in imminent danger to be seen by anyone because it was extremely dark that night and humidity was making it very difficult for anyone to discern that easily a moving shape in a distance. Moreover, the few houses of the province had all turned their lights off since a respectably long time before and tranquility had reigned all around.
It was in truth such a quiet night and even if his hometown weren’t the most crowded place in the world, the present calmness was almost frightening him. It took a while to get used of the silence which in the start felt like it was so strident for his ears and once he did, he attempted to step away from the shadows and move closer to the houses of the village. An inexplicable urgency to make his presence evident shook even his own self.
Although he felt the temptation to prolong his walk, Lloken decided to return and have a rest until the dawn that he decided he ought to leave before everyone’s waking up. He once again thought that he was putting himself in unnecessary danger.
Abruptly and only few steps before he reach his shelter he felt anxious when all of a sudden he saw the lights in each house to go on one after the other almost in chorus. He felt panicked and presumed that everybody had perceived his unauthorized staying in their province and now he had fallen into an ambush by the formerly peaceful- seeming peasants. He started running until he reached the tree- house though he thought that he may should had taken the opposite track and leave the farest and fastest possible. Within a fraction of moment different and irrelevant contemplates crossed his mind. What he was doing there and why he didn’t leave the first night when Dorothy’s mom got terrified, were the main ones.
Not having any abundance of time in his possession at all, he ran up the stairs as fast as he could and he waited there watching from the crevices all the male inhabitants gathering together only few meters away from the tree- house.

LLOKEN / PART TWO

2006-06-13T13:21:00.000+03:00

Darkness had covered the outside view a lot time before he opened his eyes and at that point he was feeling less blurred but the same tired. The first minute right after his awakening he seemed like he couldn’t specify where exactly he was and how he got there.
The girl who was sitting to the seat opposite to his, perceived immediately his sudden frustration but she preferred to pretend that see was occupied with staring at the empty seat right beside him. When the little girl, with the blond curly hair and the tightly kept pink bag in her left hand first got into the train wagon, it was full and she had to anticipate until the next stop in order to find the free seat she was sitting at. Now, even though she, along with the strange man were the only passengers left in that wagon, the little girl preferred not to change her position and go sit somewhere more private and comfortable.
Instead, all the time the man was sleeping in the opposite seat, she was sneakily observing him and moreover, she was creating scenarios inside her imaginative head about his probable situation. This was a way to amuse herself during the boring trip and she had overdid it a little bit more than the appropriate measure by imagining that he may was a dangerous criminal, wanted for a series of murders, or totally on the other way that he may was a missionary who was crossing the country in order to convert the infidels.
When he asked her where exactly were they and if she by any chance knew for how long he had been sleeping, the girl felt disappointed by the regularity of his voice. The myth she was meticulously building
During the whole trip collapsed within a second. She managed to hide that too, and she only told him that they were about to reach the terminal stop in less than a quarter. During that short space the man had won the girl’s trust but he was feeling like priory the girl had won his, because whether he could admit it or not, he had lost his faith in humans a lot time ago.
They both stepped out of the train almost simultaneously and when the man who had introduced himself to that girl earlier in that wagon as Lloken greeted her for goodbye, she proposed him to stay if he wanted to her house for the night, since despite her young age she was clever enough to realize that he had nowhere else to go and was a stranger in her desolated town. He refused kindly, but the girl, who earlier when it was her turn to, replied that her name was Dorothy, assured him that he should have no second thoughts and there were as a matter of fact, two more spare rooms in her family’s house besides the one he could find the rest he so obviously needed. Of course she said that she should ask her mother first but she subsequently clarified that she was very friendly and hospitable with destitute people. Lloken was taken aback by the characterization but he saw his reflection at the stopped train’s window he realized how desperate and weary he indeed seemed.
After the pause they took, the girl added that there was not anything even rudimentary relevant to remind a pension or a guest room in her small township and she pointed with her finger her farm- house which was visible by the place they were standing. As he had nowhere else to go, he accepted that kid’s proposition, and without knowing he experienced firsthand the fact that she was accredited between her relatives for her strong persuasiveness.

RANDOM PICS

2006-06-12T23:09:00.000+03:00

FARM KIDS VOL. II

2006-06-11T21:03:00.000+03:00

FARM KIDS VOL. I

2006-06-11T20:44:00.000+03:00

LLOKEN / PART ONE

2006-06-11T20:41:00.000+03:00

The young gangling man had started feeling exhausted after the long walk in the clammy dirty streets. Not even for a second he worried about where he was going, but his mind was only preoccupied in the circumstances he was trying to escape from.
He only realized that apart from his clothes, his shoes were sweaty too and he assumed that his toes would probably be blue with cold the time he had almost reached the small train station, which was sited pretty damn far away from his neighborhood and his house. The house he had spent the prior years.
As he was every second getting closer and closer and the decrepit station was becoming part of his optical field, he was thinking that the entire place may was deserted and no longer in use for the public because not a hint of human presence was anywhere around. Few moments later and as he was passing from the half- opened door to the inside of the forsaken building, he almost relieved, discerned an obsolete dusty blackboard, which probably and hopefully was a reliable time- table board. He thanked God that for this once, good will was by his side since he had guessed correctly. It was what he had hoped for, but the records which could be proved useful were so clumsily hand- written that no one could have read right the schedule on it. He only managed to understand, without being one hundred percent sure of course, that a train was either about to come by from that specific place that current day or maybe that it already did.
He hadn’t made out the time it was supposed to appear but he unconsciously gave a glimpse at his watch and only then he realized that it was nearly afternoon. Of course apart from the time he hadn’t understood which the name of its destination was as well, but right that moment this would be the less important information of all. Only one thing mattered for him. Getting away from that place. Getting away from what was hunting him. He was yearning to go somewhere far; as far as he possibly could.
The moment he started believing that the train had already passed from there some time earlier that same day, was actually the moment he heard the sound of it coming. Few seconds later and as it stopped right in front of him, he felt a little bit overwhelmed by different and contradictory emotions. He felt confused and unready because this would be his first time of jumping inside a train but most of all, he felt confident about the correctness of his act and in a strange way he also felt forced to grab his tiny old-styled handbag and get into that train which seemed like the medium for a new and chiefly, still unshaped life.
It didn’t take him as much as someone would expect, to feel his body warm and dry again and at once he considered about what he was leaving behind and about his life always being about dirty damp streets and deserted premises. It was always the same. Always about silly chases and stupid fights between him and his true or interior or undefined enemies.
Now as he was staring outside the window and as he was watching his familiar views which hadn’t changed much through years, becoming smaller and smaller in his eyes because of the rapidly acquired distance, a sudden and unprecedented wave of anxiety about the unknown overcame him.

A POST ABOUT SUBSQUENT POSTS

2006-06-11T20:38:00.000+03:00

The weekend is coming to its end but good spirit stays on since tomorrow is a day- off as well. It’s been a busy but interesting at the same time weekend I can say. Today I’m planning to post many things I’ve been doing lately and these are the following two. The first part of a short story I wrote named “Lloken” and some photos of me and my friend E. we took yesterday while enjoying countryside.
Extendedly, as regards the story, I finished it between Friday and Saturday which were exactly one year after I had started it. No, it didn’t took 12 months to write a 5000 word story but it’s just that I had wrote the 1st part then –without knowing exactly what I was writing about- and before a while ago I read it again from my PC files and I decided to evolve it. So that’s and the story behind the story actually about “Lloken”. That’s all.
About the pictures, we happened to be in a wonderful vast green- yellow area with a water- tank -if that’s the word- for the farmers to water their fields and we realized it was too beautiful and photogenic to not depict its handsomeness.

I JUST TALK AND TALK

2006-06-02T16:24:00.000+03:00

These two photos are taken from a day we went to the sea. I don’t want to add something related to them but just that the text in the second pic is taken from a song called “Front row” by Alanis Morissette.

Irrelevant issue: but I really like this artist. It’s already been almost a decade since I started listening to her music and I still do with the same pleasure. I think there’s an essence in her writing and compositions and I guess that’s what makes a song which is published in 1995 or 1997 still being “in valid”.

Because really, 1995 or extendedly that era more likely, was a whole different world if you seriously think about it and most thing/habits etc have changed since. Our routines, our views, our perspective, our angst expressions, our enjoyments, our fashion criteria, everything. Only few things have stayed the same, or at least that’s the way I see it. And I think that the things that are still the same are the things that used to be important and truly meaningful. Maybe those things were the one's we were more primitively and instictively connected with and not violently -or not- imposed with. Like our true instictive reactions on loving, arguing, getting connected, getting upset, sympathise, concern and a bunch more things.

NOTE: I really don’t know how I referred all these -beside the point- matters. My only intention was just to post these two photos.

TRASH FOOD

2006-05-31T23:41:00.000+03:00

I am generally speaking feeling fine about myself. As regards my weight I usually get some during winter and then I loose it during summer. I don’t know, maybe my metabolism is completely crazy and “self-governed” so “he” has chosen to always stay idle from September to February and then getting active again from March to August and so on and on…
But this winter I got really fat… and I mean it. I gained almost 20 pounds and my clothes wouldn’t fit. But this was the minor problem. I was feeling like I needed to get rid of that surplus burden but I just couldn’t. Of course I never lost my confidence or my self- esteem and not because I have such an idea about myself but I just believe that good- looking is so temporary and so easily changeable matter that it’s really not worth concerning about how awesome and breathtaking someone looks. Of course taking care of yourself and your appearance is not objectionable at all but I think that the one’s who are truly attractive and desirable are the one’s who abounds with inner beauty.
Now as I said my metabolism has started getting out of its slippery condition and within two or three weeks I have lost a considerable amount of the 20 extras. The “before” pic is taken two months ago and the “later” the current day.
I’m thankful I’m getting back in shape again but the effort to write this post and do the before and after picture is not because I think it’s such a big deal that my cheeks are getting in normal size again but I just try to see the funny side of all this hysteria we all may get from time to time and we transform the counting of the calories into the biggest issue we should ever trouble with.

TA SEA SOU TA MEA SOU

2006-05-25T19:55:00.000+03:00

Heat… Hot…. High temperatures….
However you call it, it’s the same thing. So, this afternoon was a great opportunity to go to the sea.

I really enjoyed it though there was a little more wind than the appropriate, sea became wavy and some seaweed made their appearances dominant. But it was my first bath in any case and it was fantastic just for that.

Apart from my sister my dog followed as well and it was his first swim ever. He seemed to like it and like all dogs by instict do, he was pretty good at swimming and he could float by the very first second. The time we left him alone outside on the beach while we were swimming he was crying like a small wolf.

P. S A fleeting remark
In Greece a lot things malfunction and this troubles a lot parts of our lives but for balance's grace we can enjoy sea, sun and sand. That's the public's comfort/(opium).

WEST SIDE BALCONY SUNSET VIEW

2006-05-22T00:08:00.000+03:00

A VISION FOR EUROREANS

2006-05-21T23:55:00.000+03:00

I watched the Eurovision song contest last night. Eurovision is the most celebrated festival in Europe. This doesn’t mean the most prestigious but like the most intriguing events, its value is controversially confronted.
Although it’s an extravagant with bad tasted spectacles at some points show I admit that I watched it with great curiosity. Man I don’t know what to say. Greece didn’t go well or at least as expected cause the expectations were maybe way too high. But the performance by the Greek singer was emotionally strong and amazing. I’m Greek, what can I say!
Ok, the winners were the representative rock band from Finland and the truth is that for my taste they were more than I can chew. For the ones who do not know what I’m talking about, the band was disguised in monster outfits and masks. I guess that they were considered as ugly in appearance except for the ones who may are monstersexuals…
I felt surprised by their win but I thought that lately (or not) people really enjoy to watch ugliness. The ones in specific were like the digital and the other creatures that starred in movies like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter and all the subsequent. Of course those films were massive Box Office hits which means that people is hungering for repulsive views. That’s really oxymoron I think. From one side there is something repulsive which means that makes you want to avert it and on the other side the most abhorrent gets the most popular. For this matter, tasting what you distaste is not bravery or challenging but paranoia. And of course needles to say I’m not talking about what we simply choose to watch on TV or things like that but about the world’s current obsession of embracing whatever seems unattractive.

IT'D SOUND SO MELODRAMATICALLY CLICHÉD TO JUST NAME THIS POST MOM

2006-05-21T23:45:00.000+03:00

This morning I had a computer license exam and… along came my mom. No, even though she is one of the traditional Greek moms who even when their sons are 20 pounds overweighted they are still deeply concerned if they have eaten all of their food or not, she wasn’t there in order to support me or something like that. I’m 22 and that would be awful! She was there cause she was having that exam as well. You see the reason I’m posting this is because I’m amazed by her willpower and her ability of getting adjusted in occasional changes.
One story about her is that when my sister and I moved out of the house because we went to another city to study, she found herself alone and having nothing to do because my dad was missing in his work all day long too. So, even though she had never needed to work in the past before, she decided to step out of the house and find a proper job for herself. She hasn’t studied also because she fell in love with my dad when she was still in high school and when it was the time to make the crucial decision she chose to create a family and not to board her knowledge field any further. So, 20 years later she felt the need to contribute a constructive labor made by her abilities apart from raising kids. …Child- rearing is a miraculous and extremely contributive for the society thing to do but maybe the woman was asking for some paid and actual occupation….
Five years later from then, which means now, she is still working as a secretary in a TV station but she never gave up evolving. She always tries to get better in what she does and right now she is taking some computer classes and she has already succeeded in some parts from the seven she is in general supposed to, so to hold the so desired degree. Of course the road is harsh and difficult but she does her best.
For the record today she failed. But who cares, there’s always the Sunday after the next one…

PUPPY CHULO

2006-05-14T00:04:00.000+03:00

A few days ago we got this wonderful Caucasian shepherd. I can’t describe all he does but he is so lazy and sluggish that the things he doesn’t do are way much more. He is family now, though we can’t decide an appropriate name for him. Booky (from the Greek or Turkish word TOURLOUMBOUKY) and Botox were thrown on the table but they don’t seem to fit completely. Not an easy decision.

When I was 10 I had this false and strange perception of defining the level of happiness by obtaining or not three acquisitions; apart from a horse of course: No1 a tennis racket, No2 a pair of roller- blades and No3 a dog. I never had those simultaneously but now that I do, though this has stopped being my vision for some respected time ago, do you think I should dust those old rollers and play tennis match with the puppy?

NEW POST ON THE BLOG

2006-05-05T21:09:00.000+03:00

I just got out of bed from my afternoon nap, so I don’t know if I’m bright enough to even right a few words. I am listening a song which says that li-li-li-life is wonderful! This is what I need to hear right now in order to get myself out of my drowsiness and feel… jo-jo-jo-jolly good. I didn’t sleep that much anyway, because I was wearing my eye- contacts and if I sleep while wearing them, they have the tendency to get dry and stick to my eyes which makes it really hard to take them out afterwards.
Change of topic, I’m doing a lot of things lately and if I am to psychoanalyze myself, this probably means that I probably have some emotional gaps which need to get filled. I don’t care. I like to be energetic and occupied with million things than sitting on a couch flipping innumerous TV guides …
So, apart from faculty classes and the temporary permanent occupation in my dad’s business, I work during weekends in a nightclub as barman which provides me quite good money and social communication of course and despite that, I’m dissecting a really interesting job proposition I had these days from a local TV station to undertake its advertising department… It’s not as pompous as it sounds but it’s definitely fruitful for me and a good start since this is the more adjacent thing ever to my (I hope so) prospective field of profession…
I also accomplished “Good Deeds” which is my first short story and it’s sited somewhere between the previous posts but I think that when I’ll find the appropriate time to “polish” it I may get a new blog just to get it there…
For a while an awful saying had stuck in my head telling that “when someone makes plans God laughs” or something like that… That’s crap, I firmly believe that “if you first, don’t care about yourself and don't set goals for your future then how and why God should?”

GOOD DEEDS / PART FIVE

2006-04-28T23:28:00.000+03:00

Jonathan closed the door behind him and headed to the house besides, where the rest of his family was sleeping. He took a big breath and he realized that he was felling as if he hadn’t been breathing for as long as he was inside that room.
Into his family’s house was dark too and the quietness that had been spread all over indicted that nobody was awake. At least that’s what he deemed as a fact until the moment he invaded into his father’s room. Old Joseph was awake, sitting in an imposing chair behind his desk, having an unmoved look in his face like he was expecting that sudden visit.
They talked a lot though Jonathan couldn’t precisely define for how long his father and he were having the bizarre conversation they did. While he was expecting that his father would calm him down as he did many times before, he was now feeling more and more upset and frustrated.
What had Jonathan confronted in his sister’s house was shocking. The sound that made him get into her house was actually coming from a baby- girl, whereas he knew that she was childless after a long time of her being married. In that room he found the two spouses being desperate about not being in position to offer any kind of help to the strange infant who was strolling on the small bed. They explained the unexpected spectacle to him by saying that they had adopted that newborn from a destitute family from the City few weeks before. They also said that the man who made the transaction between them and the poor family told them that if it wasn’t for them, the infant would be sentenced to die because of its family bad condition. Of course, that could be easily regarded as disputed, since they had never met the family and they couldn’t know have known their condition of living for sure.
Apart from that, as they didn’t want their co- peasants to know that they had gone there and that they couldn’t bring to the world a child who would have their own blood, they had planned to keep it as secret between them for as long as Jonathan’s sister would have to pretend that she was pregnant and of course a little time more until no one would have a suspicion that this girl was actually bigger than she was supposed to. However, contrarily to their well-ordered plan that small girl was shaking with ague and it was in desperate need of a specialist’s intervention.
Old Joseph didn’t seem surprised in the hearing of the incidents and he said to his son that he was fully aware of the situation but he thought that the best way to act was to respect their will and stay uninvolved. As he discerned his son’s aversion to his apathy, he tried to make clear to him that it was some time ago since everyone’s manners and customs had started to deviate from the old ones. He referred to the small secrets and some abhorrent behaviors which the ones who were practicing them, were not in position to perceive their harmful effects.
Jonathan heard different stories that night but the one that shook him the most was about his friend Frederick, the man he had the conversation previously that night. Surprised, Jonathan heard his father saying that his old friend had recently judged that his wife needed to be punished because according to his new beliefs she had fell in a great sin and her soul wouldn’t be able to find rest after her death. So, for her own good as Frederick believed, he flagellated her until she lost her senses and all that because she dared to feed their children with pork meat the day it was forbidden by his newly embraced sect.
Despite his father told him many reasons for not to, Jonathan was now in the central square watching the Nolands being gathered in front of him after the hearing of the “double stroke”.
He started talking by saying “I used to think that I know you, but now that I know you’re acts I hardly recognize you.” He talked straight from the shoulder and revealed everyone’s concealed deeds. He said about his sister having secretly adopted a baby- girl in order to save it from poverty, while even the most imbecile man could understand that her true purpose was to fulfill her will to fell like all the other women who had became mothers.
He also said about Frederick exercising slashing upon his wife in order to punish and save her from her sins and about an other man too, who was keeping his children locked inside their house, based ridiculously in his fears and his insecurities that they would get harmed if they would go to play outside as all the other kids did.
He even referred to the man who every winter beginning was rooting up his old neighbor’s exceptional plant, after he had made her believe that it was poisonous, when only it was just that it was a one of its kind and he was only jealous and scared by its beauty and rareness.
In the end Jonathan said that above all he was most disappointed by his father and the way his family had found to slyly dominate in a place such Noland. He then took out of his pocket and showed them the book his grandfather had wrote. The book which when Joseph was still young and idealist, thought that should be disclosed and condemned, but as later years past changed his mind. In the current gathering, Jonathan put the book back in his pocket again and said about it that it was holding the answers to every man’s who wanted to dominate, questions. He declared that having a whole place under your control, maybe it’s for the very best the people who reside there, if you able to control them right of course. And maybe sometimes that’s a vital need for order to go on existing. But no matter what he said, nobody could have the right to do such thing without people be fully aware and agreed with that deed.
Jonathan’s family desire was to maintain Noland in a utopian compared to rest of the world state, so they had chosen to govern the place in an innovative way. They were letting Nolands believe that they were living in vast freedom, which in actual fact they by far didn’t.
Jonathan walked through the crowd but everyone was feeling so lost and so awake in the same time that they were feeling very stood to respond to his presence in any way.
He walked until he reached the Noland borders as he did some time before but now he was facing the outside direction, as the first time he found his self there. His father voice calling him got him out of his thoughts and made him stand for a while and try to see where exactly he was standing.
They both weren’t able to say much. Old Joseph grabbed his son’s arm when the latter tried to step away and cross the border. Joseph’s voice tone sounded stately when he told him that what he was doing was wrong. He told him that there was only one option and this was not to leave. He said that he should go back and start living again with his own name. He almost obliged him to go back and act like being the man with the name Joseph. In truth, he was asking for his own son to become a different person, to become him, as if this was possible for a human to do.
Jonathan was appalled by what he was hearing. His father then said that the Nolands could accept him as being Joseph because they had nothing else to do. They were feeling helpless now and they had no other choice but to force themselves to believe a tremendous lie in order to feel secure again. They needed to forget about the man named Jonathan and they could. Nolands were born under the wings of protection and guidance and weren’t able to go on existing differently.

Joseph was now in the central square looking concerned and submerged in his own thoughts. When the first man who discerned him between the crowd moved near to him and asked him whether to stop rooting his neighbor’s plant up or not, he replied that he was not in position to give answers in any of his questions but he said that he could promise to him and to everybody else that he would try his hardest to make them have more..

End of story

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

2006-04-21T16:21:00.000+03:00

Sometimes you feel enthused by different things.
So, yesterday I felt really stirred and moved by a song of Alanis Morissette. I had bought the CD single “Hands Clean” I guess four and a half years ago and along with three other songs there was one named “Symptoms”. This was released after the 9/11 so this song talks about relevant matters, thought I was ignoring it. You see, I was missing some of the main lines and I was thinking that it was talking about a different matter.
Despite the time has past since I had first heard the song, it still moves me with its music, the way it is singed and now that I have obtained through internet the exact lyrics, with its words.
So in brief, as I got it, the song says in a way that we don’t feel the influence of a war if it is taking place far away from our homes, the pretences in order the ones who cause a war to get what they want, the excuses people use to justify their inadmissible acts and mainly about people falsely not believing that we all are united and interrelated in this universe.

WE CAN GUILTLESSLY EXCHANGE WISHES AGAIN

2006-04-20T15:11:00.000+03:00

Its Holy Tuesday today for the Christians Orthodox and this day has always been one of my favorites. Generally, I like the atmosphere of the whole Holy Week because even if you are not the most devoted adherent of Christianism, this week’s meaning is universal and beyond religious beliefs.
This week represents people’s struggles and predicaments and the hope that in the end you can overcome what’s troubling you. Represents good prevailing bad, the hope and the light after the walk in the dark. The salvation after a difficulty.
Except those I like the Easter time because the weather is usually good and that alone forces you to do outdoor activities and its good that usually relatives and friends visit you over and the house is full of laughters and motion.
I have only good memories from Easter and in Greece we do really traditional things these days which let you have immediate contact with nature; I am not referring to the fact that everybody skewers lamps and goats on the Easter Sunday.

A MOMENT BEFORE THEY WERE PLAYING WITH THE SWING

2006-04-15T21:27:00.000+03:00

My old school has been upgraded! My sister and I go there regularly the last two weeks because there have been constructed two tennis courts in the front yard now and playing tennis is an absolutely great evening- way- out thing! So after the game we went to have a five minute rest in the place where we used to “chill” with our former classmates during the breaks while we were still students...
But disappointingly, I didn’t get the feeling of that time as I was expecting… I may was “chilling” for once more in a spot that I had spend so much time in my school years but nothing of what I was seeing was a part of an old memory… Maybe it is that in the old days I wasn’t viewing 5x5 soccer fields and tennis courts as now…
But anyway this is not my point! I’m probably trying to say here that even if you try to live something from the past again, it’s unworthy… The changes that occur to everyone and to everything make it impossible to revive a single moment twice… I guess is really confusing what I’m trying to say, or it’s so plain and I make it seem confusing…
To wind up, I guess that since we are not in place to have a second taste of an old pleasing experience we should always try to make the ones we live in the time being, seem like really unrepeatable ones…

AND THE POETRY NOBEL THIS YEAR GOES TO...

2006-04-13T21:05:00.002+03:00

Two summers before I had became almost a maniac about writing lyrics… I was feeling an urge to write about different things… Although I can’t evaluate their objective importance, I mean if they are truly good or just a bunch of crap, they really are a part of me… at least the way I was thinking and judging -and and and- life, relationships, situations at that period…
There are times I read the stuff from that time and although then I was thinking that they had nothing to do with me and my experiences, now that I have the distance I truly see how strongly connected I was with the things I was writing…
So, I haven’t written anything for almost two years but of course two or three word combinations were crossing my mind from time to time but I didn’t bother to put those in the paper…
These four verses insisted a little more so they found their place in my computer’s hard disc and now they have this space in my blog too. Some persuasive lyrics you are! I didn’t add more cause I guess their meaning is complete and the truth is that I can’t think of anything to attach with those…

I dreamed of you last night
And we were acting in a corny lovefoolish way
But nobody gave a damn
Cause we were true
yes we were true

I dreamed of you last night
And we were communicating in an awkward funny way
But nobody gave a damn
Cause we were real
yes in our own realm

VILLAGE MAN

2006-04-09T23:54:00.000+03:00

I grew up in this lovely Greek province somewhere near a tall mountain! So since my coming of age, I used to go out regularly in the same three or four -let’s call them- cafes and clubs which were available in the strict region…
My most recent experience which reminded me the whole “ceremonious ritual” was last night when I was in my home little town and I thought why not to call a couple of friends and go out and see what’s going on…you know generally… who is with who, who got fat, who got short, things like that…
If you have never found yourself in a provincial nightclub let me transfer you there cause it’s really worth knowing what’s going on in such a place…
First of all, you get into the place and you get stuck in the entrance not because it’s so overcrowded but because you have already seen and in a way have to deal with familiar faces who either by their will or by an informal unspoken provincial law which makes them feel almost obliged to, say hello and ask you about your whereabouts between “nice to see you” eye look expressions… fiou, you see how long it takes to get inside?
The second impression is that although you see the same old faces with the same old clothes and the same old breathtaking haircuts you still have a deep surprise in your eyes, thinking probably two things: “everybody is here again” and “I’m back in the 90’s”…
When you decide to order a drink, feeling thirsty and exhausted by the procedures you see that the barman has already served you “the regular” having no questions whether or not you wanted something irregular for a change…
While you drink you don’t dare to throw sideway flirty looks around, letting in this way interesting never seen before people know that you’re in demand of…you know what… simply because there are no any interesting never seen before people anywhere around you…
Meanwhile, the ritual says that if known from the past silhouettes stop for a small talk as they pass you by, it’s preferred and suggested for the purpose a verbal revival of a common old-time experience…
Music. Music is indescribable! Always the same! Always anachronistic with some moments of pure brilliancy just to get you out the “I’m becoming suicidal; I’m feeling it- state”
Finally, when you decide to go, you waste fifteen more minutes on “I see you tomorrow” with everybody and in the end you miss your footing in the doorway just because all that distasteful way of seeing the provincial clubs as a way of chosen entertainment brought you such bad karma…
More or less that’s what happening… Everybody knows everybody there and the way the night is going to evolve is the most times predestinated… Some people have fun this way and some people have sometimes fun in this way … Like the times when there’s a slight difference, like for example when your friend who you hadn’t met for a month because you both live in different cities says a hilarious joke or the times you pass successfully the god damn doorway and so on…

HOMO- TELEVISIONUS

2006-04-09T15:30:00.000+03:00

Oh this generation of mine! Ready to conquer things! Just give us a couch and a TV screen and you can get the best out of us!
In a high scale, I guess that this is a prevailed truth… We feel so damn comforted… I think that is not that the current youngsters are ideal-free, idle-lovers and boredom fascinated… It’s just that if you taste flabbiness at least for once, it’s hard to go on differently afterwards…
Here is the situation: now, people of my age have tons of amusement in front of a TV screen watching other people’s lives in reality shows, organizing DVD marathons during weekends or playing video games for a change… In the old days as I hear, they used to go out socializing, having actual- and not virtual as nowadays- activities; and reacting in things they were opposed to in obvious- and not passive- ways…
A lot may disagree and I’ll say that of course not everybody acts this way, but one- if I can’t say the only- common thesis about this generation is that we are indifferent about what’s taking place around us!
The good news is that as it seems we are in a turning point! It seems like it’s the end of the homo- televisionus anthropoids but the bad news is that we are heading to the birth of the homo-internetius… Internet may is a useful tool and a source of knowledge but if you are all day long busy in front of a computer then where are you going to apply all this information?
Everybody has to make his own decisions and his own searching in the matter but I don’t think that the future is as terrifying as it seems sometimes… All it takes is to press the “off”’ button…

NAME IT AS YOU WISH

2006-04-08T16:31:00.000+03:00

The truth is that lately, my posting frequency battles as equal to equal the amount of the times an eight year bored married couple has sex. Once in a week that it is! In my defense this last period was busy without question and the times I had the chance to post a… post I was out of ideas… Today is also the same but I feel like I need to write something. Anything… Maybe I should start writing without thinking what I’m actually writing because I’ve heard that this reveals derelict thoughts of the one who is practicing it… Tempting! Maybe some other time…

I started jogging the other day and even though I know that “pilates”… rock lately, I prefer to remain a traditional, old-fashioned and a so 80’s chap in this field! It was so so exhilarating! And my only chance to get rid off the jkdfs pounds I gained this winter… But apart from that it felt like… a meditation activity! My mind pushed away stress and everyday contemplations the moment I started running… The place was a bucolic one, ideal for the purpose. Plenty of trees, a river creek and bird tweets. And all this in 10 minute walk distance from my downtown apartment…

IT'S JUST ABOUT NOT STAYING STILL

2006-04-02T19:55:00.000+03:00

If someone tells me you have the “x” project and you need to depict it or to give it in any kind of form you want, so that the result of it will represent the initial idea, I think that I wouldn’t got it done so easily… Contrarily, there are times that I take a bunch of random pictures or a plethora of them with the same subject and in the end while I gaze them all concentrated on the PC, I unhurriedly come up with an idea about a project or a meaning and etc… I have to add that nature provided me with uncontrolled imagination, so that sort of helps as well…
Like this time that I was watching these picture that I took of a cloud and the notion that crossed my mind was the “mobility”….
I always deem that instability is the force that brought humans in the level we are today… I’m not referring to the stupidities we are going in for, but only about the fact that millions of years ago we used to reside on the trees and now in concerted societies…
The key of the individual's and humanity’s evolution is on not staying still and always trying to find out the undiscovered… The only certain phenomenon which repeats itself all these millions of years is that the one’s who don’t move, evolve and most of all adjust, get vanished… They don’t belong… That’s a cruel commandment but its probably a fair one and definitely the stimulus of all things…

GOOD DEEDS / PART FOUR

2006-04-01T21:28:00.000+03:00

A short story

The first familiar figure Jonathan faced was his sister’s. She was holding a bucket filled with water which was predestinating for the goats but when she faced him back, she forgot all about it and as a result it landed to her feet. That didn’t seem to bother her much and when she reached him she hugged him with all her strength. They seemed like they wanted to say so many things about all the years they lived apart but all they managed to do was to observe each other’s face as if they could scrutiny every event of their separated lives by the changes of their face characteristics.
The same night Jonathan’s family gave a big supper to celebrate his return but his father unfortunately couldn’t participate. He was pretty old now and his health was in bad condition. After the supper Jonathan went to see him in his room. He found him resting in his bed and although he knew that his father was sick he found it difficult to believe it because he was looking almost as the day he had left him.
Old Joseph said to his son all about he wanted to know. He told him that only few months after the “big flee” things went unexpectedly well. The most of the men who had left came back quickly because as they said they couldn’t adjust to the new conditions of the outside world. Despite that, they brought along some “habits” that were pretty new for the Nolands who had never left the place. Jonathan said back that he had already discerned some changes in everybody’s behavior but when he mentioned it during the supper everybody refused it.

Only within a week after his arrival, Jonathan started feeling kind of disappointed by what he was seeing going on around and he wanted to talk about it with his father again, because as he believed, besides his bad physical condition he still was the healthiest “thinker” in the Hill. However he had second thoughts of that conversation for the reason that he didn’t want to trouble and upset his father any further, he knew that he had no alternative way to act.

It was a bright night, of the ones that are usual in Noland, and Jonathan decided to take a small walk. He was sure that he had to consult his father about if there was anything he should do for bringing back Nolands in their old condition and he thought of it as a chance to think about what he should mention to his father and what he should not.
Things weren’t as he had left them. The place was as before but people were by far different. He had the perception that in the past all his fellow peasants were united and caring. Now he thought that they had become more self-interested. The old days when they didn’t know what decision to take for any matter, they would vote and the minority would comply with the majority’s will. Now they would do the same of course, but afterwards you could see that the “opponents” of the decision would be disappointed and they would still talk about how things could be better and why the neglected decision should be chosen instead.

Jonathan looked at the bright sky of Noland like he may was able to find the solution there. Nothing seemed to work for him that night so he took the way back but then he saw an old friend of his, Frederick. He signed him to go closer and Jonathan found him relishing some tobacco and scotch as he was sitting comfortably in his doorsteps. He joined him, although he denied kindly the tobacco and the scotch offer. Frederick was too in the group which left Noland the time it was needed but he had came back too many years before as he found difficult to settle himself in anywhere outside that Hill.
They talked a lot and when he was asked Frederick said that he had discerned no difference in the local people stance. Their talking, although interesting, wasn’t getting to a constructive point. They were chiefly arguing about the way they were both seeing their co-townsmen but still they were remaining polite. They both had different opinions and they were unwilling to relinquish them, so Jonathan claimed sleepiness and said that it was time to go. Frederick didn’t make any effort to postpone him, mostly because he said he had a ceremonial thing to do. Jonathan didn’t quite understand what he was talking about and Frederick offered readily to explain himself. He told him that when he was in the City he got influenced by the people he met there. He told him that they were giving names to the separate divinities they believed in and they were following specific procedures to beg for their mercy or just to pleasure them. Of course Jonathan already knew that because that was happening in every City he visited, too. It was always the same devoted routines more or less, and only the names of the divinities were different. As Jonathan was watching Frederick doing his ritual routine he tried to explain Frederick’s and the other peoples urge to specify and personalize an indefinite concept. That night proved complicated enough, so he for the third time attempted to take the way back leaving his friend submerged in a -already seen in the past by Jonathan – kind of meditation detriment.

After the annoying ascent Jonathan desperately wanted to lie in his bed but he noticed something strange in the house next to his. It was his sister’s house. She was living there with her husband and even though the couple was still childless even after all those years they were married, he noticed that there was a noise which was probably coming from one of the back rooms of the house and it was sounding like a little baby’s cry.
He knocked the door twice but not a sign of response neither from his sister nor from her husband. The only noise he could hear was that crying. He knocked the hardest he could again and again but no one answered him. The crying was louder now but he couldn’t shout his sister’s name because he was afraid that he would awake the rest of his family who were all sleeping in the house besides.
He then remembered that even before his compulsory flee, when that house was just an abandoned property, there was a door in the back yard with its lock broken. He went to that door and to his surprise when he pushed it, it opened widely.
He walked into the house and he tried not to stumble anywhere because it was really dark and his eyes hadn’t yet got used of it. The only hint of light was coming through a crack in the door that the sound was coming from. Few more steps and he was next to the room, definite that the sound was a baby’s cry but now it was unbearably loud and uncontrollably uneven. The shadow of the two moving pair of legs he saw from the crack made him fell hesitant for a moment to open that door but his affectionate instincts were already alarmed by the desperate cry...

GOOD DEEDS / PART THREE

2006-04-01T16:40:00.000+03:00

A short story

It was time for Jonathan to return back. He hadn’t gone far away but everything he experienced away from Noland, made him believe that his homeland was not substantial but just a creation of his imagination.
If for any reason he was asked, he could still name you exactly what had happened the day he left his native land. He wasn’t the only one to make such a decision. Moreover, he hadn’t planned that for while before or anything like that. It was something unexpected and inevitable.
Everything happened a quiet regular evening. After the animal feeding he was on his way home when he heard the double stroke. At first he thought that he had probably overheard but as seconds later he saw his fellow-townsmen trending hastily to the central square, he realized that something wrong was actually happening. He accelerated his pace and as he reached his destination he found out that almost everybody was already there. Few seconds later he saw his father standing in the highest spot of the place ready to announce something –as everyone could understand- unpleasant.
He wanted to ask him what was all that about, but he wasn’t in position to reach him because the square was overcrowded and everyone was standing frightened, and stable before him. So, he stood there waiting to hear what his father had to say and right that moment he saw his mother and his two sisters looking to his dad with the same surprise in their eyes.
Quietness spread to the crowd when Joseph told them to. Not to broaden any further, he told them what he had found out and he tried to explain to them how things used to be in the past. The residents seemed confused and they surely were, because no one had ever left Noland, nor even for a day and it seemed totally inconceivable to them to realize how things could possibly have been different. You see, the current way was the only way they had ever known.
When everything was said you could see that some of the Nolands was just standing there apathetic, some frustrated and some surprised. But all of them were facing something unprecedented. They were all trying to imagine how things may used to be like and why such an event was well-hidden all this time. If you were there that moment you could hear nothing but an uproar. That exact time nature made her presence perceptible. They hadn’t yet reached to a conclusion when a great rainstorm poured down. That time everybody headed to their houses in order to protect themselves by the sudden weather breakout. That night some thought that this event was nature’s punishment for the revelation and some as nature’s gesture for salvation. Despite what was for real, it was for sure the strongest rain Noland had ever experienced. Even until this present day.
The next morning found the peasants numbering disasters. Most of their animals and plants had vanished by the strong wind and the flood. After the initial shock they gathered again in the same square. Double stroke was not necessary this time because they instinctively went there, as they had nowhere else to go. A lot was said during that congregation but the final decision didn’t pleasure any of them. As they didn’t have any other choice they decided that some of the peasants had to leave from their native place because the food wouldn’t be enough for everyone. The place was in miserable condition and it couldn’t provide everyone with the necessary supplies. No one was forced to do such thing but the ones who would decide that they could, they would do it for the common good and only by their will.
Everyone was hesitant at first but when Joseph’s son Jonathan took the first step a lot followed. His character was kind of exemplary as well.
Now after a long time by that day Jonathan felt like he had to go back home. He was feeling kind of disappointed from the outside world. In the beginning he felt charmed by all the new sceneries he faced. The enjoyments he tasted were tempting and obstructed but as years past an inner voice was calling him back. He definitely had felt happiness from time to time but he never felt fulfilled. He had met a respected number of lovers, he had drunk the greatest wine and had tasted really memorable flavors but nothing of those had managed to warm his hurt. And how could they?
It was about to dawn when he reached the Noland borders. He didn’t know what he would find after all those years, which now seemed like it was like all had happened just yesterday, and he didn’t know if he was the first to come back or if the others had already came back before him. Mostly he was worried if Noland and his family were as pure as he had left them. He had seen a lot during the last period and he was hoping that his shelter would still be as unaffected as he had left it. The anxiety and thrill made him feel a lump in his throat the moment he crossed the imaginary border line...

URBANIZED STRUGGLES FOR CULTURAL ENLIGHTENMENT

2006-03-24T18:37:00.000+02:00

I must say that I never pay attention to the zodiac pages when I riffle through a magazine…Or maybe the times I do, I don’t actually, really take by heart what they say/suggest/forbid etc, I’m just killing time… The reason is that I outspokenly doubt for their precision… Then again, I can say that my conviction is that maybe in some level, the position the stars and the planets have the exact moment we get borne can influence, more or less, our lives… But just that… Because you know, people say that everything and everybody in the universe is in one way or the other connected… Don’t they? Well, that’s where I console my “theory”….
So, I’m not aware of what signs had foreseen about the last few days but I guess that if I had read last Friday what an “Aquarius” should do and moreover that prescription was being right, I should be warned that… the next seven days focus on spiritual activities and try to enrich your brains as much as possible…you will be given a first class opportunity to fulfill your intellectual pursuits... You see, because really, the last few days were full of those kinds of craps…
Last weekend, as yesterday as well, I visited Thessalonica and despite the good food, the clubbing and seeing friends I also attended some great events… Along with a friend, I although was going to attend a documentary festival, I found myself in the photography museum staring at some great pictures in a photo festival in which I’m by far more interested… Additionally, this same friend of mine won two tickets for a concert in which the female artist who sang, claimed in one of her songs that “her life without her lover is like fat-free ham…”
In the middle of the week I went to the movies also, to watch Woody Allen’s “Match point” and you could say that this is not such a spiritual activity, but along with all the others I consume that it indeed is… As for the cinema which is worth-mentioning, it was not so crowed and the building is an old fashioned one, vintage, and that made it an out of the regular movies outing….
The activities list goes on since I’m reading a book and I just bought a couple of cds, too… Who says that reaching cultural nirvana nowadays is a plain thing to do?
Not to be misunderstood, I’m not bragging or anything; neither I’m saying that these are of the kinds of achievements no one dares to accomplish... Nothing near of those… All I’m saying is that man, do I really need this? If stars have arranged that, I think that I’d be the same satisfied or maybe more with just a good lay…

GOOD DEEDS / PART TWO

2006-03-16T18:28:00.000+02:00

A short story

Joseph, the good peasant, was named after his grandfather, who was the first informal “mayor” of the region and his remembrance was still vivid, despite all those years that had passed since his death. He was most remembered for his inborn trait of discerning right from wrong, while his whole life attitude was kind of exemplary, as well.
Young Joseph was righteous too, but now he was facing a big perplexity. He had inherited a book from his father which, as he understood, was written by his grandfather. It was supposed to create him no problem and it only meant to be a tool of guidance. The book was entitled “SON” and it was referring to the Story Of Noland.
The first Joseph had written how he had found himself there, how smoothly his family had integrated in the local community and how unexpectedly soon everybody had forgotten that they weren’t autochthons.
The book revealed to the youngest Joseph his true origin and the reason his forefathers had come to the Noland. He was overwhelmed by surprise to find out so suddenly all that information and the thing that shocked him the most and couldn’t comprehend the purpose of it, was why his grandfather had written down all that and why he, as well as his father had never mentioned the truth.
The “SON” was kind of a journal about the first days of the Hill by the arrival of old Joseph. He had written that this place was as usual as every other place in this planet but he had the vision to turn it into something special. This wasn’t because of a selfish aspiration of creating something big but he was thinking of that place before even getting there. He had heard of it and he had discerned its potentiality of getting improved.
He had chosen that specific Hill maybe because of the fact that it was so close to the big Cities but simultaneously so distant in a different way. It was an isolated region with few residents and despite it’s prosperity in natural resources, people who leaved around it, always considered it as an indifferent, neutral place where it must be really boring to live in. The first Joseph had saw it from the other way around, I mean, he thought of it as a safe place to stay in difficult times, and when time demanded it, there were no second thoughts but moving there.
Joseph read in the book that his grandfather had gone to the Hill when a strange pandemic had burst out all over the place. That time of course, weren’t disposable the appropriate means to specify its cause, so this was making even more difficult to find the suitable treatment. Some said that this which was killing people within a day from their infection was a primitive virus that was preserved all those years in the vast expanse of Antarctic, beneath the ices, and that after that enormously long time it had “woken up”. Others said that it had passed to people from the sick sheep and others more outrageous believed that it was the evil. Until nowadays no one can say for sure what was that, which claimed so many lives.
As death was around in every corner and people were inexplicably dying one after the other, bedlam prevailed. Everyone was feeling helpless and was trying to face it as possibly could. Some immoral even took advantage of this situation and found the occasion to speculate, by selling fake drugs as effective to desperate people, who could buy anything in their hopelessness. They were swearing that they were giving them the miraculous cure.
That time and as Joseph was feeling that danger was getting closer and closer, he took his family and decided to go to Noland before something bad happen to them. When he got there he found more shocking than the disease itself that no other foreigners had looked for shelter in that Hill. He hoped that maybe because of its social and geographical segregation from the rest of the world, that space could still be intact. And he was right. The lack of transactions with foreigners kept Noland clean. Of course Joseph was quite worried that the fortified shelter he had chosen to emigrate could get vanished, as had happened with some Cities. There were, indeed, a couple of deaths that startled Nolands, but because of their ignorance of what was really going on outside their little paradise they never got mad and things never got out of hand. Joseph had believed that the deaths had probably nothing to do with the pandemic but he surrealistically thought that if there was an antidote, it could possibly be…coolness.
Back to young Joseph, he was feeling awkwardly as a result of what he was reading and he felt obliged to tell the whole truth to the rest. They deserved to know about his true origin, the pandemic which destroyed tones of population and chiefly about Noland, which used to be as common as any other place before the arrival of his ancestors and that after that, it went under differentiation. Maybe it had become better but they had to have the knowledge that years ago it used to be different.
He went to the central square of Noland which was a bit far from his farm and when he got there he stroke the bell twice. Nolands in their first meeting in that exact square two generations ago had decided that one stroke would mean gathering for “decision making congregation” but two strokes would mean “emergency congregation”. The double sound had never been heard before and even though it was just two plain ring bells it echoed terrifying. He bet that everybody should be in great wonder that moment and it didn’t take much to see that all of them, one by one or in groups, started showing up after a minute or two…

PENNY LETTERS YOU LOOK GREAT TODAY

2006-03-12T17:01:00.000+02:00

It’s terribly freezing outside and rainy as well, although we are officially and for ten days now in March! Not to mention that we’re talking about a Mediterranean country… Weather has definitely gone insane…
Anyway, that’s not the point; here I am sitting in front of the PC adding a couple more “creations” I did today. Penny Letters is this ugly creature in the first pic and of course his name comes from his body parts… He is almost entirely constructed with Latin alphabet letters… If I was to draw him with a pen or something it could be one thousand times uglier -if that’s ever humanly possible…

COLORS AND WORDS

2006-03-11T19:13:00.000+02:00

This week I borrowed a couple of books from the faculty's library which I found really interesting. They were about marketing and advertising and product design and illustration and campaigns and cards and posters and all the related issues together... Well, influenced by those, I attempted to transform some of the photographs I’ve taken in the past into something different… The real formation of the ones below I suppose that could be cards or posters or something like that anyway… In truth, I just got a little bit experimented with few colors and some words…

MIXED UP GALLERY

2006-03-09T19:53:00.000+02:00

Lately I have found myself being interested in photography... Though I'm just an amateur in the field I enjoy myself excessively by this new "obsession" of mine... I like photoshooting almost anything but I'm most intrigued by people than sights...Thankfully my friends are the same crazy as me and they don't think it's extraordinary taking pictures all the time even without being an photographer... The day I took those I was alone and bored so in a way I...got fotoshooted by my own self...Anyway, this may not is the most professionalistic work ever made but I assume... they're great...

SOME PICTURES

2006-03-06T17:59:00.000+02:00

GOOD DEEDS / PART ONE

2006-03-05T15:05:00.000+02:00

A Short Story

There was a guy, not so young but not too old either. He used to live in a wonderful hill. He and his family were pretty much self-sufficient and they never had to take the steep path to get to the City for any reason. So, for as long as he was remembering his past, he had spent all of his life right there, along with his beautiful wife, his look-alike descendants and all the animals in the farm who provided him with plenty of food and enough of jackets.
He was a really well-respected man by all the other inhabitants and he was kind of what we would call the “mayor” of that region; although no administration was ever formally structured. While the others had placed him –even unofficially - in such a high position, he never enforced anyone do anything. He was for dialogue and against of any kind of peremptoriness. People had discerned that and that’s why they were always taking his estimations seriously and they were complying with his suggestions. Despite all, he never deemed himself as more special than the others but he had the needed perception to be aware of the fact that people thought of him with great admiration and they were counting to his decency and his altruism.
The place itself was an out and out fertile region and it would definitely seem an ideal destination and kind of utopian to all of us who live in the contemporary world. But that hill, which name was Noland Hill, wasn’t always this way. It used to be like all the other places of this universe. Its people used to making it seem beautiful and ugly and quiet and paranoid and chaotic and everything; all at the same time together, as we do ourselves, as long as we breathe.
But one day they decided to go on differently. As simple as that and –as later proved- as effectively as that.
Despite the easy anastrophe of their minds, it took too much effort to reach the high quality-life level they did. It took them several years to learn caring foremost about their Hill and later on about their homes and their personal interests.
Years had passed and generations had followed one another and this closed society was just getting better and better. They had got to a point where all possessed the same amount of goods, they were co-living peacefully and they didn’t have a special name for their different metaphysical worries. Their condition of living was nice and not boring.
But all the methodology that leaded in such progression doesn’t matter for us to know now because it was created solely by them and they only knew how to apply it precisely. If we were ever to do something like what they did, we should figure our own way out on our own.
Years went by and when it was his time to go, “mayor” had already been sure that he had handed down his ethic qualities to his sons and they did also when it was their turn to. Of course, after all that time, more and more progenies from other families had managed to obtain those qualities too, as an outcome of observation and mimicry of their “superiors”. But this fact didn’t lead them to antagonism. Everyone was very cooperative with the rest and no problem had occurred about, for example, which direction should be followed in one case or another, which, as it was natural, was arising once and again. Either way, when they didn’t know what to do about something, they were using as a solution the institution of voting. The population had increased but only slightly, so they were still in position to do it by the show of hands. Everyone could take part in this procedure and no one was excluded but the juveniles...

WHEN DID YOU GET THIS FRENCH NOSE?

2006-03-03T19:22:00.000+02:00

Do people ever change or they never do? Really controversial issue... If I’d say -it depends- I would place myself right in the middle and I wouldn’t like that...
So, let me express my syllogism about the matter and cite the incident which provoked this contemplation…
I saw a friend of mine after a great deal long time in the local bar the other night... and we had our awkward moment.... Not the sexually intense awkward kind of moment but the one when you don’t know what to talk about and you just stare at your drink, as if it could possibly change formation, and you gulp extremely big drains of it just to earn yourself some time....
The awkard talking went almost like this:
-so nice to see you, where you’ve been all this time?
-so, how are you doin’ in general...
-that means you’re great...great...
…long pause...
-so, I see you look...renewed...what...? how?
-long pause again...
-maybe i should go....you got me on my way out....let’s arrange to go for a coffee or something...you know...to catch up....
Finally, I didn’t have to go cause a few more gulps later we found our old selves and we talked like we hadn’t spent all those months apart...
But, as you understand it took us several minutes to identify each other... You could say it, almost like dogs do, but with human-ier ways... That means that I didn’t have to smell some parts of her body... Some jokes and some teasings were just enough to break the ice....
But I guess that this has happened to everyone... and not just once.... I guess I believe that situations make people change. Some events make you grow and some others make you grey...That’s life! When you haven’t seen a friend for a big time and you meet each other again, you can more easily perceive, that he/she has changed... And that’s not extraordinary cause probably you’ve changed too. It’s just that more often people change in different ways and they loose their “spot of contact”...In marketing terms it is called the “field of shared experiences” or that’s the way we transalate it in Greek marketing terms...
On the other hand, if you have recently found yourself in the 84’ class reunion and you have found out that the former classmate plus chess club president remains a geek, the cheerleader captain is still as hot as hell and have married the football striker and you, although have lost the excessive kilos, still are the lonely guy who stands in the corner, but who’s walkman has been turned into an mp3 then all right, you‘ve got a point... But again, who said that people change... utterly, anyway... Maybe their main characteristics remain the same after years of outside transformation, but some parts of them do change... For most of the times...

RIPPED SHIRTS AND DIRTY PANTS

2006-03-03T12:54:00.000+02:00

Hello to everyone... I haven't post for a while, mostly because i couldn't figure out something...postable worthy... but also cause this week was way too busy...
Along some others, all these days I've been searching for a decent company to excerise my practise-semester but as I figured out this whole searching wasn't as an easy thing as I was expecting it...
Not to boarden any further, I haven't took any desicions yet about which company suits me better... So, now that I'm writing this, I was supposed to be with a professor of mine who is supposed to be in charge of training-semester issues and who is also supposed to be a helpfull guy for students like me(who don't know what to do with their lives)...
So I woke up today, which by the way is a brilliant sunny day, and instead of going for a coffee or something with my friends, I preffered to come in the faculty... Such a fool! I'm sacrifising a few hours of hanging around, doing something so profound as drinking coffee and gossiping the passers-by, for coming to find a teacher who I keep forgetting his name...
Anyway, the teacher wasn't where he was supposed to(that means his office)and here I am in the library writing this post...
Well, I think I'm gonna take off now, cause I just took a look around and I'm the the only guy here... Everyone left... They all probably went to enjoy their cool coffees somewhere better-decorated than here... Even the three Erasmus students who where sitting two sits beside me left... What language were they talking? It could equally be Turkish or French...

PS The title above is absolutely irrelevant but yesterday that i was thinking about a story or something to blog-post these words came in my mind... I consider it as a... catchy title but I couldn't make out a story adjacent to this... Of course, I could write that I've been torured by a gang or something or that someone hit me so hard or that they stole me on the street ouTside my house last night and things like that... but as you can see I'm a pathetic liar... I think I am in the ones who just can't help it but tell the truth and only the truth...

I'M NOT TO TALK ABOUT SUNDAYS

2006-02-26T14:48:00.000+02:00

I don’t think it’s necessary to portray the way this day of the week appeals to me… I don’t want to refer how depressing it used to seem like when I was a school-boy and how all this have changed… Cause if you really think about it, Sundays should be a blessing and not the saddest day that for the most of the people actually are… Many get the “Sunday syndrome” which means that you feel awful because after a busy week you don’t have a thing to occupy your mind or your body… Well, I don’t get along with that view, at all… I deem that on Sundays there’s usually plenty of time to waste guiltlessly... Sundays are about drinking coffee, reading the papers, and having lunches with the family, wearing your track-suits and your slippers all day long and watching horrible shows on the telly or going for a walk with your friends or something…. Of course all those are in valid only during the winter time cause when it’ s summer, Sundays are all about sharing a few cocktails with friends on a beach….
But as I already pointed in the title … I didn’t want to be referred on Sundays but in something that happened yesterday… As I was driving back home I sort of hit a pigeon with my car… I more or less felt sorry for that cause I don’t drive for very long time, just a couple of months actually, and I’m not the spreading-terror-on -pigeons type of guy … I cherish the thought that it wasn’t my fault cause the pigeon was just walking on the road and I thought it would eventually fly, as it should, but it didn’t… Aren’t the birds supposed to fly instead of walking careless in high-speed roads? On the other hand, as I later thought about it, it may was deaf or something and it couldn’t perceive me coming towards to it… But if that is true, I don’t want to be a “finger of the nature” that clears pigeon-society from the incapable ones…

YOU CAN'T STOP ME FROM SUING MYSELF

2006-02-25T22:50:00.000+02:00

I was looking to the Greek-English dictionary the other day and one of the words that randomly crossed my eye was the word masturbation… Who needs a dictionary for that…? Anyway, apart from masturbation there was also given an alternative word for the same meaning; the synonym was a compound word: self- abuse. So, do these two words have the same meaning? Masturbation equals self-abuse?
Conclusively,does that give me the right to sue myself for being repetitively self-abusive?

SO NAKED IN EVERYONE'S EYES

2006-02-25T22:43:00.000+02:00

In Brazil they dance in their Gs…
In U. S they trick or treat…
In Greece they celebrate… in general…
In all the other parts of the world I don’t know what they do but I’m sure that they have their own special ways to honor the Halloween spirit… They parade and… and…? Anyway, you got my point…
For most of the people it’s the time of having nonstop fun, getting out of control and enjoying yourself as mush as you can! Well, not for me… Some people can’t stand the Xmas for several reasons. On the other side, I can’t stand Halloween! Not because people get dressed in funny costumes and pretend being something different than what they really are… Absolutely exquisite things to do… It’s just that it reminds me that I disdain the fact that these days, it becomes more and more common, people being afraid to show their true selves during the rest of the time… And it’s a disgrace that nobody seems to bother about that anymore but we just take the situation for granted…
I’m going to declare in this point:
Ladies and gents, the truth is naked! Our true selves are naked! We are neither our posh-labeled nor our “basket-orientated” outfits… If we do not show who we really are, then people will never really get to know us… They will just keep misunderstanding us with our adopted covers… Besides, it’s not so hard to just sacrifice some of our so hard-earned statuses….

4000 WORDS AND A DOZEN MORE

2006-02-23T18:27:00.000+02:00

the park...

the back yard...

snowy fields...

snowy trees...

SIBLINGS

2006-02-23T18:17:00.000+02:00

my sister...

me...

EVERYBODY CAN BE POETICALLY EXPRESSED SOMETIMES

2006-02-23T17:44:00.000+02:00

I’ve thought a lot about whether posting this poem of mine or not, and I feel like I need to explain myself. Allow me that clarification, cause every guy who is not a poet for a living, or even a poet at all, feels kind of bizarre if he reveals this hidden aspect of this…expressive nature of his.
Well, this poem is the only one I’ve ever written although I’ve wrote some song lyrics in the past, however I guess that doesn’t count! (...I like that I can be lead to arbitrary conclusions like the one above, cause it’s my blog anyway and I can do this…!)
It actually… came out of me about five years ago when I used to live in a different city than the one I live today, where I was studying. If you’re wondering the source of the inspiration, I’m telling you that I do too, cause I don’t remember being involved or visioning erotically anyone back in the time I wrote it… Just my imagination…
Here is the scenery description: my sister, a friend of ours and me were in home and my sister was sleeping in her room. So, what do two guys do on a lousy Sunday afternoon when they are fucking bored? Did you say they watch football on TV? Of course you did! Stop being that detrimental! The right answer is that they actually do write a poem! To our defense, the conditions were ideal… This means, foggy-wintery-rainy-hypotonic atmosphere outside; melodic music inside and lights almost switched off. There were probably some candles on as well, but I guess I shouldn’t mention this because that just goes way too far and it’s a huge stroke for our virility. When the writing came to an end we were like…
-“man, what did you write?”
-“oh, that’s good (meaning that’s crap)”
-“yeah”
-“let’s go out now and hit some beers (meaning let’s go out now and hit some beers)”.
Anyway, that’s pretty much how I wrote this poem and now you got the chance to have a nosy glimpse on it or even to comment on it if you fell like...

AND IF

And if the sun will never shine
And if the clouds bring again the rain
I’ll have with me all of our days
The endless love, your shiny face

And if the night delays the dawn
And if I’ll spend my days alone
I’ll keep with me your cordial laugh
Your deepest thoughts, your brightest glance

You walked away just by yourself
Searching for life, searching for help
And here I am in a faceless crowd
And all I see is you, no doubt

Illusions are blowing my head away
Delusions are reflecting all the things I’ll never say
Conclusions are telling I’ll see you some day

Feel the silence, hear the noise
And let the time to make the choice

THE COVER AND OTHER TAKES

2006-02-22T19:35:00.000+02:00

It's irrational to have an army of fictional paparazzis running after you and not to have a magazine cover to flaunt about! Even fictional too...

JUST FAMOUS

2006-02-22T19:22:00.000+02:00

Here, pretenting being stalked by paparazzi! Be merciful, we're just a bunch of media damaged/alienated kids! Honestly, we had so much fun shootin those... heh

piss off...

we better get out of here...

let me get some...

A HANDY WISDOM

2006-02-22T18:24:00.000+02:00

I never collected anything in my life but my sister does. She collects perfume bottles. She’s got a ton of them! She’s kept my mother’s empty perfume bottles, my father’s, hers of course, mine and everyone’s who has the intimacy to ask for his/her empty perfume belongings. Thank god she’s not a cop… She wouldn’t ask for driving licenses and stuff like that but for perfume supplies…
So, I was always surrounded by delicate smells and I was always relating them with the different events that were going on in my life. I never bought a single brand twice, expect one time and each cologne of mine and also some perfumes my sister wears, reminds me of different things. I still remember how my first cologne smells like and I’ve connected it with a time in school when we were protesting for a reason (don’t ask me which) and we literally had conquered the whole place. Innocent years!
There are million other things to think of, like the first time in faculty, the whole atmosphere of two Easters before where I was wearing my dad’s perfume and I loved it and many many others.
All those empty bottles are full of memories! (Well done me, that’s a great poetical sentence!!). So, the times I smell what’s left of them I remember all the great and sometimes ugly (but time make them seem good as well) things I tend to forget.
I can’t say things like "I value perfumes etc for that", they are perfumes nevertheless and that would definitely suck, so I shouldn’t even make an effort, but if I was a brand advertiser I would use the below sentence (sorry, snicky advertoo, I came first). A sentence that came in a moment of great inspiration…

Think twice what perfumes you connect with an event, or even better, what events you connect with a perfume...

I just read the wisdom again and if you really think about it “it’s deep…like my perfume" (God is this ever going to end? I want to think perfumlessly again)

MY BUDDY

2006-02-20T10:19:00.000+02:00

My buddy is a girl. It’s so good for a male to have a female pal because besides everything else you get one step closer in realizing what kind of specie they are… If that’s possible…
Specifically, beyond genders, the depicted girl is really intimate to me. I believe there can be friendship between two people of the different sexes if they want to, cause I believe that the importance is not placed in the organ they carry inside their pants (or skirts),but in other factors, such as common sense of humor, common perspective, compassion and understanding. Despite all these, I think that the main element of a successful friendship is lack of competitiveness…
To tell the truth there is a thing we become extreme competitive sometimes: who’s gonna swill faster more beers!

THE WEEPING LIST

2006-02-20T10:16:00.000+02:00

When you are experiencing lack of creativity what’s better than making a list. All kinds! Of course we’re not talking about super market weekly shopping lists. Not anything that hollow… So, the following is possibly a common but surely a tried-out list… Films that made you cry your heart out… Nor women neither men. Just movies. So, take my list. Basically, I didn’t really cry with each one of them but they all were definitely good nominees for…
No. 6
Pure A touching movie. English production. A drug-addict mum and her primary matured son who tries to get her out of her pathetic condition.

No. 5
Les choristes A French film. I’d call it the European aspect in the “Dangerous Minds” matters. A teacher tries to discipline with some unorthodox for his times ways some disobedient but talented kids.

No. 4
House of sand and fog. Two great British actors. The same ambition and a tragedy. What else to ask! I was about to cry while I was watching it but my family was around and I felt kind of embarrassed.

No. 3
Dear Frankie. I guess a Scottish production. The same touching motive for a guy. A son and an absent father. It is a bit complicated to describe it any further but it was good.

No. 2
Armageddon. Everybody knows it, I guess. A hint of tear showed up when the previously- stubborn later- self-uninterested father sacrifices his self for his daughter’s good. And universe’s of course. It’s an American film after all.

No. 1
Billy Elliot. The film I really cried. You know, to tell the truth I was desperately trying to find out the film that would make me weep the shit out of me. That film was the one. I liked it because it was not bittersweet in the corny way. Again, a relationship between father and son (such a cliché, I admit) and a big dream/aspiration/opportunity. I definitely recommend it to the ones who are still looking for the ultimate I-need-some-handkerchiefs film.

BEING SIXTEEN AGAIN

2006-02-19T16:45:00.000+02:00

Last night I thought about visiting my grandma. We have a special bond together plus I feel terrible when I know that she spends so much time just by herself. Especially, now that it’s winter time and she has to stay in home for days without going anywhere from fear of getting cold or something. She’s…plenty… years old, you see.
Well, as I was saying, I was about to get in when to my surprise I heard her laughing and talking and laughing again. Of course you’re gonna say that this fact is not weird, at all. I agree but it’s kind of weird when you are on your own, don’t you think? So, I thought that probably senility was right beside me. That means “by her door”. I questioned myself, isn’t it kind of late for a plenty-year old lady to have an imaginary friend? Because there are only two certain things in this planet when it comes to the imaginary friends topic. When a small kid talks to one of them then it’s imaginative but when an old lady does then she’s probably started dating Mr. Alzheimer!
Thankfully, my grandma wasn’t an additional name of this seducer’s long seduced list; she was just talking on the phone! Of course, the phone! There’s always a phone! How could I forget those evil machines? When she hang up, she told me that she was talking with a friend she had lost contact with for about forty years but they had incidentally crashed again each other recently.
Yeah, that’s good! My nana is not senile, she just feels sixteen or fifteen again and she can have her “girlfriends” as she did in the past! She still has the right to goof around for hours on the phone for as much as she wants!
- Nan, what do these three olives do in your water? And why it is on a martini glass? Don’t tell me you’re having a martini…
- It is called “dry”, you ignorant moron

ALMOST LIKE SEX

2006-02-19T14:10:00.000+02:00

Something weird happened few days ago. It was the news time and I was having the TV on but it was on “mute”, so I couldn’t really figure out what they were talking about. You see, I simultaneously was trying to read but I couldn’t help but notice that all the people who were part of the news broadcast, were beaming like they all had sex the previous night! I don’t mean all together but separately. I hope, at least…
Overcoming that, I kept on reading (yeah, I read with the TV on) and when I changed the channel (I do that too) I noticed the same (I had sex last night looking) thing again. So, I increased the volume to see if I was just mad or if something else was happening. To my surprise the "hot new" of the day was the government reformation. It was the thing that media people were waiting for such a long time and I assumed that everybody was so excited it actually happened that they were feeling kind of horny by the proceedings! The fact itself intrigued my curiosity and here is what I suppose the next best beaming factor or maybe even equally considerable beaming factor compared to sex for some job owners:
Singer- his/her single hits directly No1 in US and UK charts
Record company owner- his/her singers hit directly No1 in US and UK charts with no promotion expenses at all
Soccer player- scoring in the 4th minute of delays
Teacher- non warning math test to the class he loathes and every student fails
Striper- when he/she finds a forgotten buck in his/her undies while scratching you know his/her what the morning after the show
Weatherman- when he’s the only one caring an umbrella in his bag a sunny summery day and it eventually rains
Model- when the press informs her that car accidents have been increased since the day her new campaign posters have been placed all around
Female porn star- when the director says "cut"
Lawyer-the moment he/she says "objection, your owner"
Although for most of people it’s not a job: an unhappy wife- the moment subsequently her husbie’s sentence "I come"

WONDERING

How do you become the guy who fires the gun so the 100meter athletes begin to run and how do you call that job?

INAUGURAL

2006-02-18T19:25:00.000+02:00

Hello world web users! Hello to everyone who accidentally or not, happened to stumble on this site. Well, I became a blogger but the truth is that I don’t know yet what kind of things I’m going to post here. Many people I know have created blogs and I thought why wouldn’t I? Even thought, I acknowledge that I’m not like the wisest man in the universe and our planet can go on revolving brilliantly without my splendid posts as it did before. Well, blogs are usually e-diaries and I’m totally fine with this (who would care anyway even if I wasn’t) but I want this blog to be something different simply because I’ve never felt before in my whole life the urgency to write down what’s going on into my microcosm.
Don’t get me wrong with this diary thing. Either way, I have a great enviable relationship with diaries. But just with other people’s diaries. You see, when I was in high school I used to read my sister’s. It was fine but my complaint was that she had never mentioned me in any of them (she had wrote two back then). I had reached to a point where I was feeling kind of what we call “the invisible man”. It took me some time, much more money and a lot of corporation with my amiable shrink to admit that I am actually “substantial”! Anyway, my shrink didn’t help me also to stop the annoying habit of sneaking into other people’s lives by reading their diaries. It’s just that my sister one day…just like that…just stopped writing. That’s a shame sis, cause you were so good in that! I mean, where all that imagination was coming from? All I’m saying is, I used to know what was going on in her life that time and none of the events was as spectacular/awful/paradox/unprecedented as she was describing them!
Sister I’m just trying to be funny! You know that I love you! You see, you never wrote anything about me in any of your diaries and you are the star in my opening post! That’s what I call unselfish love!
That’s all for the time being, bye to every one reading this, update you later

PS for the ones who didn’t get it, that whole shrink thing meant to be nothing but a cute joke. I may be a little bit crazy but I can control myself perfectly! Still, at least