-it's been so long.u ve got to write something.i m choking.
-i know.but what?
-i dont really care.i ve got some stinging incidents right behind my back and this fat heavy bag of your fantasies right on my face...let me think..I DONT CARE.
-ok..hi to you all.i m back.i guess.
-ohh...fuck off!!!!!!!
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Tales of smoke
by the fireplace.
Havana Club Anejo Reserva and Peter Stuyvesant.my little friends.
the mental agitator and the relaxing one.
Last Shadow Puppets tickle my neck.
watching the road lights and fireplace's smoke taking shapes..when....
following the rhythm.dancing in it.
hunted by sparkles, she evaporates in light.
where those have no powers.
subcutaneous smiles at the place where light fades to dark.
and starts swimming in it's friendly for those who are lost ocean.
letting herelf in it.earning night's acceptance
clouds gathering..
same colors,similar textures.
calling them.to be one.
moments of illusional ennoblement.
rain comes.to slow her down and distort her dreams of higher flights.
praying for the wind to come.to save her.
drive her where she never swimmed again.
wind. the one who repeatadly vanished her.
left her dance unfinished.shattered her violently.
the one that can find her anywhere..
and signal her last dance.
i want to blow her a kiss.
*October 2008...
Havana Club Anejo Reserva and Peter Stuyvesant.my little friends.
the mental agitator and the relaxing one.
Last Shadow Puppets tickle my neck.
watching the road lights and fireplace's smoke taking shapes..when....
following the rhythm.dancing in it.
hunted by sparkles, she evaporates in light.
where those have no powers.
subcutaneous smiles at the place where light fades to dark.
and starts swimming in it's friendly for those who are lost ocean.
letting herelf in it.earning night's acceptance
clouds gathering..
same colors,similar textures.
calling them.to be one.
moments of illusional ennoblement.
rain comes.to slow her down and distort her dreams of higher flights.
praying for the wind to come.to save her.
drive her where she never swimmed again.
wind. the one who repeatadly vanished her.
left her dance unfinished.shattered her violently.
the one that can find her anywhere..
and signal her last dance.
i want to blow her a kiss.
*October 2008...
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thymele.
I own a honeycomb of desires.
a swarm of drones bounding me inside it.
steriled working bees feeding back my memories
and a queen bee in a fecundity state.
breath in thyme scented looks and promises,
breath out music. dressing Dionysus thymeles.
You. dressed in black.your shadow pale.
your nails warm and sharp.
sinking in my mellow hives.
You.hungry and betrayed.
giving in yourself to lust.
harvesting fear and conceit.
gulping them in orgasmic shots.
basting on your wounds their leftovers...
a swarm of drones bounding me inside it.
steriled working bees feeding back my memories
and a queen bee in a fecundity state.
breath in thyme scented looks and promises,
breath out music. dressing Dionysus thymeles.
You. dressed in black.your shadow pale.
your nails warm and sharp.
sinking in my mellow hives.
You.hungry and betrayed.
giving in yourself to lust.
harvesting fear and conceit.
gulping them in orgasmic shots.
basting on your wounds their leftovers...
a bite,a bit.....
it's your look that can break mirrors and melt their frames...
and this irrestible desire to,while you conquer that mirror,
weld the chain links that bend us in the utmost orgasm
with a bite beneath your lobe,
your pulse in my jaws.
shattered our anxieties,stinging our naked feet.
it's your absense,or is it your inexistence
that sheds crystal roses on my path?
and this irrestible desire to,while you conquer that mirror,
weld the chain links that bend us in the utmost orgasm
with a bite beneath your lobe,
your pulse in my jaws.
shattered our anxieties,stinging our naked feet.
it's your absense,or is it your inexistence
that sheds crystal roses on my path?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
road to lullaby...
Traffic Jam..
…He spent days and nights licking his own lips, tasting the fading pleasure of her dust. Resurrecting desires and plans out of the deepest and sultriest mind wells.
…She was always there. At the same park. Among the Acer’s branches, tearing decency to little pieces of melting lust.
…Contacting each other by breathing in- breathing out cigarette fumes for goodnight…
After a while lungs were filled with sweet whipping sounds and goodnight became a salty clearance.
She was a fairy. He was a carpenter. His life was to work on dead wood. She lived in woods when they used to be alive. Jammed obstacles building a wall.
A long and trackless detour or a hitch-hike back to the night before tasting?
Why didn’t they live in a dream theatre, where his conscious would fight with his instincts and her weakness would dry her wings while her skin would get softer?
At least they would have left their mark on poetry’s tree. Her wings shaped on its bole by his fingernails.
Babel swallowed one more agony, digested it and offered one more fast lane leading to the traffic jam…
…He spent days and nights licking his own lips, tasting the fading pleasure of her dust. Resurrecting desires and plans out of the deepest and sultriest mind wells.
…She was always there. At the same park. Among the Acer’s branches, tearing decency to little pieces of melting lust.
…Contacting each other by breathing in- breathing out cigarette fumes for goodnight…
After a while lungs were filled with sweet whipping sounds and goodnight became a salty clearance.
She was a fairy. He was a carpenter. His life was to work on dead wood. She lived in woods when they used to be alive. Jammed obstacles building a wall.
A long and trackless detour or a hitch-hike back to the night before tasting?
Why didn’t they live in a dream theatre, where his conscious would fight with his instincts and her weakness would dry her wings while her skin would get softer?
At least they would have left their mark on poetry’s tree. Her wings shaped on its bole by his fingernails.
Babel swallowed one more agony, digested it and offered one more fast lane leading to the traffic jam…
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
road to a lullaby....
Introductory
It was late. Midnight. Babel was cooked at low temperature. Spring was only in calendars. Jonathan had no sleep. Suburbs were too tempting to be disregarded. He had a long time to walk. We can’t count the visits at his friends. After all they were a block away. He wanted to walk through the park, see the people at night. He was not asking for a co-walker he had this peeping mood..
Jonathan was a carpenter. But he loved the smell of wood and grass when those were alive. He also loved the sound of the city fading away and the lights of the skyscrapers when air made leaves rustle. He sat on a bench. Just before the subway entrance. This mix of nature’s mystery and the smell of darkness was what he needed.
He needed no clubbing, he had Havana’s best club at his hands. He was full of sounds. He needed no scents. He was sniffing maples and city’s leftovers.
Orgasmic dances of substances at his mind were violently interrupted. A pair of wings. It’s sound. An alluring buzz. Tracking it down was easy. A few meters above his shoulder, sitting on an Acer’s orange leaf was a fairy. A fairy that the sound of her wings was just a gulp of considerateness comparing to her figure. He knew she was always here, another creature of Babel. Another piece of lust that was gifted with wings and stardust. He didn’t know what was worst. That she could use them to attack or defense herself?
She seemed friendly when he told her that her sound made him dream of wet alleys. .
He offered a drink. He asked her to sit at his hand. She flew around him giving a smile with a dark nuance. She sat on his knees.
Her eyes, under the veil of tiredness they were wearing, could tell a thousand stories.
She was wearing a black dress. Her hair was pulled back and she was wiping the stardust of her legs. This move and her soft sheer skin revealed under the flimsy dress were giving the clumsy grace of an adolescent girl to her.
She had a bad winter. She had times that fairies could have. She could be a teacher.
Time was passing, with her at his knees and her eyes and voice liven up.
He asked for her stardust before leaving.
She told him that if he had it he would have to be careful.
Her gift was that with the stardust he could get a wish. A wish that would have effects to both of them. She took some specks of her dust right of her thigh and placed her fingers just out of his mouth.
It was late. Midnight. Babel was cooked at low temperature. Spring was only in calendars. Jonathan had no sleep. Suburbs were too tempting to be disregarded. He had a long time to walk. We can’t count the visits at his friends. After all they were a block away. He wanted to walk through the park, see the people at night. He was not asking for a co-walker he had this peeping mood..
Jonathan was a carpenter. But he loved the smell of wood and grass when those were alive. He also loved the sound of the city fading away and the lights of the skyscrapers when air made leaves rustle. He sat on a bench. Just before the subway entrance. This mix of nature’s mystery and the smell of darkness was what he needed.
He needed no clubbing, he had Havana’s best club at his hands. He was full of sounds. He needed no scents. He was sniffing maples and city’s leftovers.
Orgasmic dances of substances at his mind were violently interrupted. A pair of wings. It’s sound. An alluring buzz. Tracking it down was easy. A few meters above his shoulder, sitting on an Acer’s orange leaf was a fairy. A fairy that the sound of her wings was just a gulp of considerateness comparing to her figure. He knew she was always here, another creature of Babel. Another piece of lust that was gifted with wings and stardust. He didn’t know what was worst. That she could use them to attack or defense herself?
She seemed friendly when he told her that her sound made him dream of wet alleys. .
He offered a drink. He asked her to sit at his hand. She flew around him giving a smile with a dark nuance. She sat on his knees.
Her eyes, under the veil of tiredness they were wearing, could tell a thousand stories.
She was wearing a black dress. Her hair was pulled back and she was wiping the stardust of her legs. This move and her soft sheer skin revealed under the flimsy dress were giving the clumsy grace of an adolescent girl to her.
She had a bad winter. She had times that fairies could have. She could be a teacher.
Time was passing, with her at his knees and her eyes and voice liven up.
He asked for her stardust before leaving.
She told him that if he had it he would have to be careful.
Her gift was that with the stardust he could get a wish. A wish that would have effects to both of them. She took some specks of her dust right of her thigh and placed her fingers just out of his mouth.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Raw thoughts
Αρκεί η ιεραποστολική στάση με τα ρουθούνια κ τα μάτια διογκωμένα ..τα δόντια να σημαδεύουν τον πόθο μας….και έτσι αρραβωνιαζόμαστε μια από τις νόθες κόρες του χρόνου…τις στιγμές….αποτέλεσμα τις δικιάς του ιεραποστολικής εμπειρίας με την τελειότητα…
Με παρόμοια χαρακτηριστικά , αλλά συνήθως περδικλωμένοι με τα πόδια ανοιχτά και ανάσκελα στην ιεραποστολική στάση, μας κλέβει –με την έννοια της αποκόλλησης από το οικείο περιβάλλον και σκοπό την ολοκλήρωση της πράξης – και μας κακοποιεί η αλήθεια….
Η μόνη επαναλαμβανομένη παρθενογένεση είναι αυτές οι κόρες….οι στιγμές και οι ετεροθαλείς αδερφές τους οι αλήθειες... Τα γαμίσια μεταξύ των απόκρυφων ονειρώξεων του S.Freud και των ατελείωτων εξισώσεων του A.Einstein είναι οι αιμομίκτες γονείς της εκάστοτε στιγμής και αλήθειας μας, οι νονοί των θεών και των δαιμόνων μας…
Και φτάνουμε στο τέλος με τα πάνω άκρα μας γεμάτα βέρες και τα κάτω ξεχειλωμένα και βαριά…πολυγαμικοί και ατιμασμένοι…με το κρίνο της Παναγίας στο πέτο, οικόσημο της μοναδικής ζωής μας.. με τη πένα του Δαρβίνου στο αυτί μας, οικοδόμοι του τύμβου μας… .ισορροπώντας στο σκοινί της εξέλιξης….με τα ένστικτα μας πληγωμένα γέρικα θεριά και τη φαιά μας ουσία να κοχλάζει…Η γριά κότα και το ζουμί της…δυστυχώς σε χύτρα ταχύτητας,...
Ζήτω τα μπαχάρια και το σκορδοστούμπι κάτω οι φούρνοι μικροκυμάτων και τα blender…
ΥΓ1: Να θυμηθώ αύριο να μου τον παίξουν για λίγο(ή να παίξω μόνος μου αν δεν μου κάτσει) μπας και ανανήψουν τα ένστικτα…
ΥΓ1: Να θυμηθώ αύριο να μου τον παίξουν για λίγο(ή να παίξω μόνος μου αν δεν μου κάτσει) μπας και ανανήψουν τα ένστικτα…
ΥΓ2: Να θυμηθώ αύριο να χαμηλώσω τη φωτιά γιατί μύρισε καμένο…
To Jackie O............
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Blogolyrism......
-Τα απαλά της χείλη μου προσφέρανε ένα αρωματισμένο και ζεστό ξύπνημα. Γέμισε το μυαλό μου εικόνες της αναγέννησης….Περιγραφή ενός φιλιού, Τετάρτη πρωί, πριν τη δουλειά…
-Γεμάτη λάμψη και με την γνωστή ασημένια απόχρωση της φάνηκε σήμερα η σελήνη. Το δάκρυ πάνω στο παγωμένο της μάγουλο την έφερε πιο κοντά της…Δεκέμβρης σε κάποιον Προφήτη-Ηλία…Ήταν που ήταν απογοήτευση η διαδρομή αφού ζαλίστηκε από τις στροφές, ήρθε κ το κρύο κ δεν άντεξε, τα έβαλε τα κλάματα η κοπελιά… .
-Το Amsterdam την άνοιξη είναι σαν να ανακαλύπτεις τον κήπο της Εδέμ .. Οι καρποί κ οι μυρωδιές απλώνονται στα πόδια σου… τα χρώματα του σαν να ξεπηδούν από ένα τηγάνι…σαν pop-corn…Απρίλης, κόκαλο ,περνάς από το μαγαζί που πουλά τα μανιταράκια πίνεις κ λίγο αψέντι κ τα ποπ-κορν χύνονται από το σακουλάκι….
-Σήμερα το τέλος της ομιλίας του Νεκτάριου Σφυροκεαφαλίδη μας βρήκε να αναρωτιόμαστε αν τελικά η σύμπτυξη με τους μέχρι πρότινος φονταμενταλιστές συμφοιτητές μας θα έχει περισσότερα πλεονεκτήματα. Η γιγάντωση μας ως κίνημα θέλει θυσίες. Αλλά ο παλμός της συγκέντρωσης μας δείχνει το δρόμο. ομιλία συντονιστή αριστερού εξωκοινοβουλευτικού φοιτητικού κινήματος στο τει Καλαμπάκας. ανακούφιση που θα έρθει κ κανένας άλλος να τρέξει για την εκδρομή στη Ρόδο..
Τα παραδείγματα μπορούν να συνεχιστούν…
Η γλώσσα μας προσφέρει και ίσως προδιαθέτει το λυρισμό κ την υπερβολή.
Αλλά δε χάθηκε και ο κόσμος να περιγράψεις μια στιγμή της ζωής σου έτσι όπως πραγματικά την έζησες. Γιατί δε νομίζω όλη η ελληνική blogo-κοινότητα να έχει σεξπηρικές επιρροές….
Μελό, βαρύγδουπες εκφράσεις, παραφορτωμένα μινι δοκίμια….μετά σου λέει γιατί γίνεται emo ο κοσμάκης…..
Jean Paul Sartre featuring John Lennon. Tonight at Panagea’s Soumela square… και το ακροατήριο να παραληρεί.. Oh lala!!!!!!!
Συγνώμη για τη προσβολή της ιερότητας των προσωπικών στιγμών σας..
Είμαι έντονα φορτισμένος συναισθηματικά. Πριν λίγες ώρες έχασα το αγαπημένο μου τριαντάφυλλο.. η εικόνα των μαραμένων πετάλων σκορπισμένα στο αφιλόξενο και υγρό έδαφος έκανε τη καρδιά μου να ραγίσει……
Η γλώσσα μας προσφέρει και ίσως προδιαθέτει το λυρισμό κ την υπερβολή.
Αλλά δε χάθηκε και ο κόσμος να περιγράψεις μια στιγμή της ζωής σου έτσι όπως πραγματικά την έζησες. Γιατί δε νομίζω όλη η ελληνική blogo-κοινότητα να έχει σεξπηρικές επιρροές….
Μελό, βαρύγδουπες εκφράσεις, παραφορτωμένα μινι δοκίμια….μετά σου λέει γιατί γίνεται emo ο κοσμάκης…..
Jean Paul Sartre featuring John Lennon. Tonight at Panagea’s Soumela square… και το ακροατήριο να παραληρεί.. Oh lala!!!!!!!
Συγνώμη για τη προσβολή της ιερότητας των προσωπικών στιγμών σας..
Είμαι έντονα φορτισμένος συναισθηματικά. Πριν λίγες ώρες έχασα το αγαπημένο μου τριαντάφυλλο.. η εικόνα των μαραμένων πετάλων σκορπισμένα στο αφιλόξενο και υγρό έδαφος έκανε τη καρδιά μου να ραγίσει……
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Διάλλειμα......
Αν δεχτούμε τη ζωή ως φωτεινό μεσοδιάστημα (Καζαντζάκης) τότε τα σκιερά διαλλείματα της, είναι προφητείες, είναι τα δίκια μας τα αγνώριστα…τα ατελή ..
Οι αγαπημένοι μας…
Οι σύντροφοι μας……
Εκεί που σκοντάφτουμε, εκεί από οπού κρατιόμαστε…….
Μας θυμίζουν το συνάφι μας, σημαδεύουν το μέλλον μας….
Αδιαίρετα κομμάτια η ζωή….
Παράταιρη(-λογη) στο σύνολο της, μα σαν τη βροχή απρόβλεπτα όμορφη κατα τη διάρκεια της….
*Ο χρόνος…ο αρσενικός ανταγωνιστής της τελειότητας…..
Στιγμές……οι νόθες κόρες του……
Έρωτας….η επαφή με τη σκιά μας….
Οι αγαπημένοι μας…
Οι σύντροφοι μας……
Εκεί που σκοντάφτουμε, εκεί από οπού κρατιόμαστε…….
Μας θυμίζουν το συνάφι μας, σημαδεύουν το μέλλον μας….
Αδιαίρετα κομμάτια η ζωή….
Παράταιρη(-λογη) στο σύνολο της, μα σαν τη βροχή απρόβλεπτα όμορφη κατα τη διάρκεια της….
*Ο χρόνος…ο αρσενικός ανταγωνιστής της τελειότητας…..
Στιγμές……οι νόθες κόρες του……
Έρωτας….η επαφή με τη σκιά μας….
Saturday, June 23, 2007
once upon a time there was a bald frog...
a random question,a classic dysfunctional affair and the tale begins:
Once upon a time there was a bald frog.he was a unique frog.able to put all eyes on him when he started singing.but his insecurity about his appearance made him sing only at night.hidden among the rocks in the middle of the river.when no one could see him. and no one could hold him.
He was enjoying the appreciation and admiration that his audience offered.he didn't have to do anything to survive.his food was provided by his dedicated and enchanted admirers.there were lines of princesses waiting and asking to see to touch the singing frog.
There was a rumour that frog was a prince that his narcissism angered a witch and transformed him to a frog.and because he mostly loved his hair she made him bald too.
Time passed and his fame spread..He started to feel like a prince again. thought it was time to present himself.but how he could do it without revealing his bald head?
he needed this veil of mystery that made him even more wanted... so he made a wig.and decided to start singing the time the declining sun thickened the shadows.
He made it..now even more enchanted people filled the river shore...he had the experience to rivet their attention and with his wig specially made to shine when sun fell upon them he was irresistible.safe,wanted and shadowy..the prince he always wanted to be....
At the shore.among the crowd.there was one princess that was ready to jump in the river and join him.she was staying late listening to him..they came closer after a while. she was also enchanted by his voice.she always was vulnerable to uniqueness.at her years of adolescence she was in love with a prince that used to sing to her every night ...she lived magical moments until he left her..growing up she always was keen to singing people.she could barely stand talking to man that could not sing...
Finally one night she jumped in the river and joined him.she was so flattered of his voice that even when she understood that he had nothing else to offer to her she stayed by his side.she asked him to come out to the shore.she knew how to break the spell.but he needed to take off his wig and work for his survival.this was what the witch wanted from him.he was always finding excuses to stay there.on his rock.with his admirers his safety and the princess to love him.he could love her..but the allure of having what you want with out trying overcame his feelings....
Princess realised that shore is the place where she should live. the place to seek for her prince.. she always loved the shore.the open space.the wind. she loved laying on the grass.she could not live happy on the rock .frog's voice may still made her fly but she could land now on her feet when she wanted.
She made her final offer to the frog.she told him to come for a long walk and try work out together even if would never become a prince.she knew that the end would come even if frog said yes.he was now living with his mirror..the river.so came the day that princess waved him goodbye...
She never stopped loving his voice.but never jumped to the river again. and frog kept singing on his rock..watching his reflection at the river. always surrounded by other princesses.. always safe.with his wig shining when sun was setting......
And they lived happily ever after..
Now kids...what do we learn from this story?
Once upon a time there was a bald frog.he was a unique frog.able to put all eyes on him when he started singing.but his insecurity about his appearance made him sing only at night.hidden among the rocks in the middle of the river.when no one could see him. and no one could hold him.
He was enjoying the appreciation and admiration that his audience offered.he didn't have to do anything to survive.his food was provided by his dedicated and enchanted admirers.there were lines of princesses waiting and asking to see to touch the singing frog.
There was a rumour that frog was a prince that his narcissism angered a witch and transformed him to a frog.and because he mostly loved his hair she made him bald too.
Time passed and his fame spread..He started to feel like a prince again. thought it was time to present himself.but how he could do it without revealing his bald head?
he needed this veil of mystery that made him even more wanted... so he made a wig.and decided to start singing the time the declining sun thickened the shadows.
He made it..now even more enchanted people filled the river shore...he had the experience to rivet their attention and with his wig specially made to shine when sun fell upon them he was irresistible.safe,wanted and shadowy..the prince he always wanted to be....
At the shore.among the crowd.there was one princess that was ready to jump in the river and join him.she was staying late listening to him..they came closer after a while. she was also enchanted by his voice.she always was vulnerable to uniqueness.at her years of adolescence she was in love with a prince that used to sing to her every night ...she lived magical moments until he left her..growing up she always was keen to singing people.she could barely stand talking to man that could not sing...
Finally one night she jumped in the river and joined him.she was so flattered of his voice that even when she understood that he had nothing else to offer to her she stayed by his side.she asked him to come out to the shore.she knew how to break the spell.but he needed to take off his wig and work for his survival.this was what the witch wanted from him.he was always finding excuses to stay there.on his rock.with his admirers his safety and the princess to love him.he could love her..but the allure of having what you want with out trying overcame his feelings....
Princess realised that shore is the place where she should live. the place to seek for her prince.. she always loved the shore.the open space.the wind. she loved laying on the grass.she could not live happy on the rock .frog's voice may still made her fly but she could land now on her feet when she wanted.
She made her final offer to the frog.she told him to come for a long walk and try work out together even if would never become a prince.she knew that the end would come even if frog said yes.he was now living with his mirror..the river.so came the day that princess waved him goodbye...
She never stopped loving his voice.but never jumped to the river again. and frog kept singing on his rock..watching his reflection at the river. always surrounded by other princesses.. always safe.with his wig shining when sun was setting......
And they lived happily ever after..
Now kids...what do we learn from this story?
Monday, June 18, 2007
Ember....
*post titled as"ember" cause it has a specific attribute and various results....
i started reading Albert Camus's:the rebel..
an essay about absurdism,murder and rebellion..
Albert is my favourite author..most people i talked about him said he is a pessimist but i always thought he was a person that just knew where to start from but never had the chance to finish it...he considered a fact that we live inside-walking hand to hand-with absurd.
we have(sometimes) to accept that some things are predetermined but that is not a reason not to fight for a change.a change that may not have an overall effect but in a personal level(that is the most important)...
this is my personal opinion...that is what i get from him...
and at the same time listening(for 569832st time): I'll believe in anything by Wolf Parade...
some of the lyrics:
"Give me your eyes, I need sunshine
Give me your eyes, I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones, your voice, and your ghost
We’ve both been
A very brave
Walk around with both legs
Fight the, the scary day
We both pulled the tricks out of our sleeves
I’ll believe in anything and
You’ll believe in anything
I Said I’ll believe in anything and
You’ll believe in anything
If I could get the fire out from the wire
I’d share a life and you’d share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d take you where nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn I said nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn
And I could take another hit for you
And I could take away the trips from you
And I could take away the salt from your eyes
Take away skin and salt in you
And I could give you my apologies
By handing over my neologies
And I could take away your shaky knees
And I could give you all the olive trees
And look at the trees and look at my face
and look at a place far away from here......."
we are individuals that spare energy and passion..
you know how to deal with hunger...you've been taught.
you can try you can steal you can die.....
you know how to measure pride...
it is pride or nothing...you've been taught...
we know how to deal with things that their solution is embedded in our minds ....
we also have our instincts to "protect" us....
..and time stretches and we struggle to keep up with it's wills...no time to realise no time to understand....we just want to live....
but sometimes there are vestiges itching our neck....
leaving indelible marks..
these marks make us touch ourselves when we look at the mirror..
seek for a feeling that once made us sparkle...
something unique and at the same time familiar...
growing up means you have to choose what to keep before you choose what to seek..
at least that is how we jog along...
result:when there are too many vestiges you can't move on..
desires and unfulfilled states versus fears and time limits....
traveller or tourist?
translator or consumer?
we fall in love with creativity....
we need certain attributes..
we try to forget and not get over something...
and we come to the point where absurd is flying around us buzzing...
when we need to believe in something,in anything so as to give everything to it..
there is no question to be answered.....
i have problems completing my thoughts....
i just left a message in a bottle that has no bung...
i did not even threw it in the sea...
tide has it's way......
sun can dry it or evaporate it.....
but then i leave my self to fate.....
and the circle closes.....
i hold the seal....
i can sign what i say...
but i m out of bungs...
i miss the chain of salty water drops when you walk out of sea.
realisations come the same way.
leftovers...surprising our skin,joyfully tickling our back and usually evaporate just the time that our body needs them...
i started reading Albert Camus's:the rebel..
an essay about absurdism,murder and rebellion..
Albert is my favourite author..most people i talked about him said he is a pessimist but i always thought he was a person that just knew where to start from but never had the chance to finish it...he considered a fact that we live inside-walking hand to hand-with absurd.
we have(sometimes) to accept that some things are predetermined but that is not a reason not to fight for a change.a change that may not have an overall effect but in a personal level(that is the most important)...
this is my personal opinion...that is what i get from him...
and at the same time listening(for 569832st time): I'll believe in anything by Wolf Parade...
some of the lyrics:
"Give me your eyes, I need sunshine
Give me your eyes, I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones, your voice, and your ghost
We’ve both been
A very brave
Walk around with both legs
Fight the, the scary day
We both pulled the tricks out of our sleeves
I’ll believe in anything and
You’ll believe in anything
I Said I’ll believe in anything and
You’ll believe in anything
If I could get the fire out from the wire
I’d share a life and you’d share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d take you where nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn I said nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn
And I could take another hit for you
And I could take away the trips from you
And I could take away the salt from your eyes
Take away skin and salt in you
And I could give you my apologies
By handing over my neologies
And I could take away your shaky knees
And I could give you all the olive trees
And look at the trees and look at my face
and look at a place far away from here......."
we are individuals that spare energy and passion..
you know how to deal with hunger...you've been taught.
you can try you can steal you can die.....
you know how to measure pride...
it is pride or nothing...you've been taught...
we know how to deal with things that their solution is embedded in our minds ....
we also have our instincts to "protect" us....
..and time stretches and we struggle to keep up with it's wills...no time to realise no time to understand....we just want to live....
but sometimes there are vestiges itching our neck....
leaving indelible marks..
these marks make us touch ourselves when we look at the mirror..
seek for a feeling that once made us sparkle...
something unique and at the same time familiar...
growing up means you have to choose what to keep before you choose what to seek..
at least that is how we jog along...
result:when there are too many vestiges you can't move on..
desires and unfulfilled states versus fears and time limits....
traveller or tourist?
translator or consumer?
we fall in love with creativity....
we need certain attributes..
we try to forget and not get over something...
and we come to the point where absurd is flying around us buzzing...
when we need to believe in something,in anything so as to give everything to it..
there is no question to be answered.....
i have problems completing my thoughts....
i just left a message in a bottle that has no bung...
i did not even threw it in the sea...
tide has it's way......
sun can dry it or evaporate it.....
but then i leave my self to fate.....
and the circle closes.....
i hold the seal....
i can sign what i say...
but i m out of bungs...
i miss the chain of salty water drops when you walk out of sea.
realisations come the same way.
leftovers...surprising our skin,joyfully tickling our back and usually evaporate just the time that our body needs them...
Never use a towel when you come out of the sea...
*To a person that i could give away my last bung...cause i know that carries the same message...
maybe not a message with the same starting point the same route and destination, but sun and water surely have the same effects on them...
To a person that uses the same ink that i use.....
*To a person that i could give away my last bung...cause i know that carries the same message...
maybe not a message with the same starting point the same route and destination, but sun and water surely have the same effects on them...
To a person that uses the same ink that i use.....
Friday, June 1, 2007
(θα) έχει ωραίο φεγγάρι σήμερα.....
incoming sms...time 13:45 :"να πας μια βόλτα το βράδυ,(θα) έχει ωραίο φεγγάρι."
Νύχτωσε στην Ελλάδα.
Μόλις σταμάτησε να βρέχει...κοιτώ τον καιρό στη TV. ..35 c, 85% humidity,thunderstorm warning.
Αναρωτιέμαι:"Απο πότε έχω να κοιτάξω το φεγγάρι;"-να το κοιτάξω όχι να το δω....
"Γιατί;"
Απο τότε που θυμάμαι τον εαυτό μου ,πάντα γοητευόμουν απο την οικουμενική και πιο μυστικιστικη θεότητα, απο το χιλιοτραγουδισμένο αυτο τόπι που κρέμεται λίγο πιο χαμηλά-λιγάκι πιο ψηλά απο τα ονειρά μας...
Το αναζητούσα όπου και να βρισκόμουν.
Με ηρεμούσε τα ανοιξιάτικα και καλοκαιρινά βράδια στις παραλίες και στα μπαράκια.Με νύσταζε,με κρατούσε ξάγρυπνο.
Το χειμώνα ένιωθα δέος οταν εμφανιζόταν πίσω απο λευκά σύννεφα, παγώμενο, αστραφτερό. Μου έλεγε οτι το κρύο το φέρνει εκείνο σε εμάς.Για να μας υποδείξει την συμβολή του στον κύκλο της ζωής.
Του έριχνα κλεφτές ματιές όταν το φιλί μούσκευε κ τα δόντια παίρναν τη σκυτάλη...
Κάποιες φορές το κυνήγησα και ανέβηκα στη ράχη του, κάποιες άλλες ήρθε και με βρήκε αυτό..
Όταν ουσίες λιγάκι πιο παράνομες και πολύ πιο αποτελεσματικές απο το Red Bull βράζαν μέσα στο μυαλό μου , βρισκόμασταν στη μέση της διαδρομής και παίζαμε παρέα...
Για να μη πολυλογώ ήταν κάτι που δε παραμελούσα και δεν με απογοήτευε ποτέ..
Βγαίνω να το κοιτάξω.Η υγρασία και τα σύννεφα το κρύβουν, αλλά ξέρω που είναι.
Ακόμα και αν έχω να το κοιτάξω εδώ και τρεις μήνες.
Δεν νιώθω το ίδιο....δε με απογοητεύει,αλλά ούτε με θλίβει η απουσία του.....
Τι θέλει να μου πει;
Μήπως δεν με γεμίζει το νέο μου σπίτι;-όσο όμορφο και αν το βρίσκω...
Μήπως έπαψα να κοιτώ και απλά αντιλαμβάνομαι τις καταστάσεις και το περιβάλλον γυρω μου ως μια αναπόφευκτη συνέχεια,μια αλυσιδώτη αντίδραση του χρόνου και του τόπου, στην οποία είμαι είμαι αμέτοχος παρατηρητής και όχι στοίχειο της;
Μήπως μου λέει να πάψω να την υπολογίζω τόσο;
Να μην είναι δικαιολογία,να μην την έχω σαν κερασάκι στη τούρτα της ημέρας;
"We turn toward God only to obtain the impossible."
Albert Camus.
Και όπως στις στιγμές που συναντιόμασταν στη μέση της διαδρομής, τη περιμένω και σήμερα.
Πάντα είχα πρόβλημα στην οριοθέτηση και ο ενθουσιασμός μου έκανε το ακατόρθωτο να μοιάζει ένα βήμα παραπάνω.Ίσως γιατί δεν είχα ποτέ σταθερή πορεία.
Έχοντας την επιλογή-δυνατότητα-θάρρος-αφέλια να μην ακολουθήσεις μια διαδρόμη οριοθετημένη ενώ διατηρείς το στόχο, η εκάστοτε σελήνη-Θεότητα σε αποπροσανατολίζει με την συνεχή παρουσία της, ή σε παροτρύνει να συνεχίσεις;
Γιατί κάνουμε συνώνυμο του ανεξήγητου το ακατόρθωτο;
Γιατί βάζω αυτά τα ερωτήματα, αφού ποτέ δεν τη θεοποίησα;
αφού το μόνο που ήθελα ήταν να θυμηθώ...
Πολλές φορές δε ξέρω που πρέπει να σταματήσω να ψάχνω για εξηγήσεις.Πολλές φορές δε μου φτάνει,άλλες δε μου αρέσουν και συνεχίζω μέχρι να δώσω-βρώ αυτή που μου ταιριάζει.
'Αλλες τις χρειάζομαι για να ανακουφιστώ.έστω προσωρινά...
Μόνο που αύτο το τόπι δεν συγκαταλέγεται,δεν περιορίζεται μέσα σε σημεία στίξης.
Δεν με φοβίζει, δεν με λογαριάζει...
Κάποιες στιγμές-ελάχιστες - γίνεται καθρέφτης μου..και τότε οι εξηγήσεις προλαβαίνουν τα ερωτήματα.
Τότε η άβυσσος μοιάζει με ενυδρίο......
Δε θα ψάξω για απαντήσεις σήμερα.
Έτσι και αλλιώς δεν την είδα σήμερα για να μιλήσουμε...ΤΗΝ γιατί μου αρέσει να τη λέω σελήνη,όχι φεγγάρι.....
Νύχτωσε στην Ελλάδα.
Μόλις σταμάτησε να βρέχει...κοιτώ τον καιρό στη TV. ..35 c, 85% humidity,thunderstorm warning.
Αναρωτιέμαι:"Απο πότε έχω να κοιτάξω το φεγγάρι;"-να το κοιτάξω όχι να το δω....
"Γιατί;"
Απο τότε που θυμάμαι τον εαυτό μου ,πάντα γοητευόμουν απο την οικουμενική και πιο μυστικιστικη θεότητα, απο το χιλιοτραγουδισμένο αυτο τόπι που κρέμεται λίγο πιο χαμηλά-λιγάκι πιο ψηλά απο τα ονειρά μας...
Το αναζητούσα όπου και να βρισκόμουν.
Με ηρεμούσε τα ανοιξιάτικα και καλοκαιρινά βράδια στις παραλίες και στα μπαράκια.Με νύσταζε,με κρατούσε ξάγρυπνο.
Το χειμώνα ένιωθα δέος οταν εμφανιζόταν πίσω απο λευκά σύννεφα, παγώμενο, αστραφτερό. Μου έλεγε οτι το κρύο το φέρνει εκείνο σε εμάς.Για να μας υποδείξει την συμβολή του στον κύκλο της ζωής.
Του έριχνα κλεφτές ματιές όταν το φιλί μούσκευε κ τα δόντια παίρναν τη σκυτάλη...
Κάποιες φορές το κυνήγησα και ανέβηκα στη ράχη του, κάποιες άλλες ήρθε και με βρήκε αυτό..
Όταν ουσίες λιγάκι πιο παράνομες και πολύ πιο αποτελεσματικές απο το Red Bull βράζαν μέσα στο μυαλό μου , βρισκόμασταν στη μέση της διαδρομής και παίζαμε παρέα...
Για να μη πολυλογώ ήταν κάτι που δε παραμελούσα και δεν με απογοήτευε ποτέ..
Βγαίνω να το κοιτάξω.Η υγρασία και τα σύννεφα το κρύβουν, αλλά ξέρω που είναι.
Ακόμα και αν έχω να το κοιτάξω εδώ και τρεις μήνες.
Δεν νιώθω το ίδιο....δε με απογοητεύει,αλλά ούτε με θλίβει η απουσία του.....
Τι θέλει να μου πει;
Μήπως δεν με γεμίζει το νέο μου σπίτι;-όσο όμορφο και αν το βρίσκω...
Μήπως έπαψα να κοιτώ και απλά αντιλαμβάνομαι τις καταστάσεις και το περιβάλλον γυρω μου ως μια αναπόφευκτη συνέχεια,μια αλυσιδώτη αντίδραση του χρόνου και του τόπου, στην οποία είμαι είμαι αμέτοχος παρατηρητής και όχι στοίχειο της;
Μήπως μου λέει να πάψω να την υπολογίζω τόσο;
Να μην είναι δικαιολογία,να μην την έχω σαν κερασάκι στη τούρτα της ημέρας;
"We turn toward God only to obtain the impossible."
Albert Camus.
Και όπως στις στιγμές που συναντιόμασταν στη μέση της διαδρομής, τη περιμένω και σήμερα.
Πάντα είχα πρόβλημα στην οριοθέτηση και ο ενθουσιασμός μου έκανε το ακατόρθωτο να μοιάζει ένα βήμα παραπάνω.Ίσως γιατί δεν είχα ποτέ σταθερή πορεία.
Έχοντας την επιλογή-δυνατότητα-θάρρος-αφέλια να μην ακολουθήσεις μια διαδρόμη οριοθετημένη ενώ διατηρείς το στόχο, η εκάστοτε σελήνη-Θεότητα σε αποπροσανατολίζει με την συνεχή παρουσία της, ή σε παροτρύνει να συνεχίσεις;
Γιατί κάνουμε συνώνυμο του ανεξήγητου το ακατόρθωτο;
Γιατί βάζω αυτά τα ερωτήματα, αφού ποτέ δεν τη θεοποίησα;
αφού το μόνο που ήθελα ήταν να θυμηθώ...
Πολλές φορές δε ξέρω που πρέπει να σταματήσω να ψάχνω για εξηγήσεις.Πολλές φορές δε μου φτάνει,άλλες δε μου αρέσουν και συνεχίζω μέχρι να δώσω-βρώ αυτή που μου ταιριάζει.
'Αλλες τις χρειάζομαι για να ανακουφιστώ.έστω προσωρινά...
Μόνο που αύτο το τόπι δεν συγκαταλέγεται,δεν περιορίζεται μέσα σε σημεία στίξης.
Δεν με φοβίζει, δεν με λογαριάζει...
Κάποιες στιγμές-ελάχιστες - γίνεται καθρέφτης μου..και τότε οι εξηγήσεις προλαβαίνουν τα ερωτήματα.
Τότε η άβυσσος μοιάζει με ενυδρίο......
Δε θα ψάξω για απαντήσεις σήμερα.
Έτσι και αλλιώς δεν την είδα σήμερα για να μιλήσουμε...ΤΗΝ γιατί μου αρέσει να τη λέω σελήνη,όχι φεγγάρι.....
knot
Thinking of times I refused to grab a rope offered to me….and I fell
Thinking of times I refused to grab a rope offered to me.. and I fell with a smile on my face….
Thinking of times that I refused to grab a rope and jumped landing on feathers….
Thinking of times I was wishing for a rope and instead I got a knot….
Thinking of times I was wishing for a rope and it came with knots to handle and climb..
Thinking that I jumped for a first time having a rope in my hands….
Thinking that I jumped without thinking that ropes sometimes are not tied somewhere…
Thinking that these ropes are only tied in my hands..
Thinking of this fall…
Wishing I never have trusted ropes…..
They were made to hold things…to hang things….to restrain…
Thinking of times I refused to grab a rope offered to me.. and I fell with a smile on my face….
Thinking of times that I refused to grab a rope and jumped landing on feathers….
Thinking of times I was wishing for a rope and instead I got a knot….
Thinking of times I was wishing for a rope and it came with knots to handle and climb..
Thinking that I jumped for a first time having a rope in my hands….
Thinking that I jumped without thinking that ropes sometimes are not tied somewhere…
Thinking that these ropes are only tied in my hands..
Thinking of this fall…
Wishing I never have trusted ropes…..
They were made to hold things…to hang things….to restrain…
Saturday, May 5, 2007
the Sentence tree.
the Sentence tree grew old,and the child started nailing exclamations holding together the borders of the wooden fence.filled worm holes with dots .
tried to hold together branches with virgules.
tenses stretching.past growing.
the child had to try hard to shape the tree..
the child forgot that it could not be shaped..
tried to hold together branches with virgules.
tenses stretching.past growing.
the child had to try hard to shape the tree..
the child forgot that it could not be shaped..
always an interrogative-shaped knife would cut
the bark and juices would come out to born new branches,
the bark and juices would come out to born new branches,
new roots to replace those that found no water...
the child forgot that had a long time to climb on the tree and taste it's fruits.
the child forgot that had a long time to climb on the tree and taste it's fruits.
it was busy trying to strength the bole.and grubbing down the parasites.
dreams and feelings fruits were left to grow
dreams and feelings fruits were left to grow
and their heaviness made the branches bend...
some of the fruits were sacrificed and fertilised the ground..
some of them died and dried on the brunches..
a few healthy on the higher branches invited the child to taste them.
The bole strong and tall.made climbing difficult.
the child was tired.it fell asleep..
dreamed it was sitting on the higher branch squeezing the fruits..
some of them died and dried on the brunches..
a few healthy on the higher branches invited the child to taste them.
The bole strong and tall.made climbing difficult.
the child was tired.it fell asleep..
dreamed it was sitting on the higher branch squeezing the fruits..
letting them drip on it's tongue...engraved his initials on the root.
with the interrogative-shaped knife..
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Once upon a time in WhateverLand
Late November.Just before the snow cover the last footsteps and wind takes in charge
with it's orchestra.The lady with the sparkling eyes did the usual route.From lights to dark
and clockwise.
One more night in the city was over.she left from the backdoor.alone.by her choice.for a long while there was only one pillow on her bed.
holding a cigarette.the cold wind between her fingers woke her..
she remembered the flier that lately was in every corner:WhateverLand presenting yourself.open24/7
she thought:"what the f******....it's nearby and i m not sleepy"
when she was there ,it was almost 06:00..
"one more night with the leftovers."
But there were people waiting outside...
she smiled and went in..she was kind of abashed when she saw the club crowed..
"now what?"
she sat on an empty footstool and ordered a drink..lighted a cigarette and looked around.
fancy people,couples,bevies,loners.any age any kind of person was stacked in a sphere shaped club...
it was late though and there was too much energy for her tired mind that night...
she left the bar..the round was on the house...along with some telephone numbers in her pocket..
"hmm..that's something!"
.....
sprawled on her bed...she started projecting the future nights in there...
she fell asleep..
.....
next night she was ready to have a full night in the WhateverLand...
there was no dress code so she put on whatever made her feel nice..and strangely after a while,she wanted to feel sexy too...
..
and she is in..with the telephone guys where she left them the day before.
She smiled..everyone smiled back..what an awkward feeling..she did not have to try much.
The second night went better than she thought.she was already like a frequenter.
Though an instinct told her to go back home early.she was drunk and the atmosphere as time was passing by got too intimate .
Ok.i ll see you tomorrow for coffee."
....
She slept easily.she woke up with a mood for socializing..
after work,she went back home.she had something interesting to do today and time was at her side..
...
..and there was everyone..
"it's like a huge cocktail shaker in here."
some new faces were at her table.but her seat was empty..
she ordered and sat comfortably..crossed her legs..nice feeling..she had the proper amount of glances when she did it.
time passed..it was getting even better..she was invited in some events and laughed enough today...
......
Back at home..she went for a shower..
while water cleaned her from tiredness,she mentally went back at the club...
the blue eyed guy...."we had a nice talking"
"i m sure there is something more"
"did he felt the same?"
"i ll make a move tomorrow"
....
one more day that the club hoged her mind..
Her last fear collapsed under the time of loneliness and the message that the blue eyed guy left at her answer machine....
She looked out of her window.
"it's spring.how?"
......
the big time came..he was there..the same look..
and she was right..there was something more..
and it was the first time that it was so profound...
.........
she took him back home..
she woke up..there was a second pillow on the bed...she smiled..
she had her heart full of feelings..so intense that she could barely control them..
she felt again like a teenager...
and the WhateverLand was always the place to be..
....
One day she went to find the reason of her revival..
and he told her that today,he had to sit at the next table.
and he did so.
She lost her speech for a while..she could barely believe it...
she didn't give up.she tried to take him back at her table.only to her table.
nothing happened..the club revealed it's darkness a shiny afternoon.
....
This incident haunted her.took her back to memories she wanted to forget..
she did not stop hang out at WhateverLand...but there was no music anymore.silence and a constant buzz..nothing to distinguish....
.....
she went deeper.at the V.I.P rooms..she met people that had the seat at the head of the table.
she always went up to take a breath..and then down again..still was driving from lights to darkness..and clockwise..
...
she took a few more blue eyed people at her home.nothing was the same though.
still no music.....
time was not healing fast enough...
.....
tables started seem the same...the same smile everywhere..a second glance was enough now to find out if there was really a blue eyed or just a contact lenses effect....
walking around from the bar to the tables,to the V.I.P section.waving to strangers,choosing her companionship.companionship(?).more like something that made the clock fingers run faster...
.....
Some tables,a few old ones,some new kept her in the club.
she was more than a simple customer now.it was not just the outfit.she was a really interesting person.she had the whole package.somewhere.if you look closely you can see :'fragile','danger flammable explosive material','love friendly' etc.a gift that any adult would like to have in his-her hands.
Her enthusiasm started fading...
but it was now a home-like place..with locked bedroom and no fireplace..still home-like though.
.....
time passed..healed the wounds..only some scratches reminded her what happened...
no more deep diving.she left her self be carried by the waves.she enjoyed their tickle,the breeze and the smells the wind brought to her..there at the beach bar of WhateverLand.
"it's summertime"
.....
She realised that this is not enough for her anymore..she needed to dive for a while..
She walked along the shore.till she could hardly tell were the main bar was...
she wondered if the new shores had something to offer.and if she had time for them.
She put her leg on the water...
Tom Yorke and Bjork singing together.sweet explosions filled her mind...
A new smile.a fresh one.she walked barefoot and the sand was wet.
She could see her table.she had her own for a long time ago.still full..
Music stopped...she was the subject...
"nice to be missed"
She sat at the bar.she wanted to hear..everyone needs some confirmation.
"no ...it can't be true"
The table took the upper hand.the tablecloth fell off.she just noticed that they are naked.
and they spit on the floor.
"was i always naked?"
a wound started bleeding..
the buzz came back..in her head.
......
it was always in her head.sometimes covering the silence.sometimes waking her up.
"maybe this was always The music"
but she did not thought it throughout.
The table....it was mostly frustration..more than sadness....
for a moment she wondered why she was not sad..she asked herself if she grew up.
if nothing was innocent.
"it's play-time"
.....
Once upon a time in WhateverLand, there was a lady with sparkling eyes......
with it's orchestra.The lady with the sparkling eyes did the usual route.From lights to dark
and clockwise.
One more night in the city was over.she left from the backdoor.alone.by her choice.for a long while there was only one pillow on her bed.
holding a cigarette.the cold wind between her fingers woke her..
she remembered the flier that lately was in every corner:WhateverLand presenting yourself.open24/7
she thought:"what the f******....it's nearby and i m not sleepy
when she was there ,it was almost 06:00..
"one more night with the leftovers."
But there were people waiting outside...
she smiled and went in..she was kind of abashed when she saw the club crowed..
"now what?"
she sat on an empty footstool and ordered a drink..lighted a cigarette and looked around.
fancy people,couples,bevies,loners.any age any kind of person was stacked in a sphere shaped club...
it was late though and there was too much energy for her tired mind that night...
she left the bar..the round was on the house...along with some telephone numbers in her pocket..
"hmm..that's something!"
.....
sprawled on her bed...she started projecting the future nights in there...
she fell asleep..
.....
next night she was ready to have a full night in the WhateverLand...
there was no dress code so she put on whatever made her feel nice..and strangely after a while,she wanted to feel sexy too...
..
and she is in..with the telephone guys where she left them the day before.
She smiled..everyone smiled back..what an awkward feeling..she did not have to try much.
The second night went better than she thought.she was already like a frequenter.
Though an instinct told her to go back home early.she was drunk and the atmosphere as time was passing by got too intimate .
Ok.i ll see you tomorrow for coffee."
....
She slept easily.she woke up with a mood for socializing..
after work,she went back home.she had something interesting to do today and time was at her side..
...
..and there was everyone..
"it's like a huge cocktail shaker in here."
some new faces were at her table.but her seat was empty..
she ordered and sat comfortably..crossed her legs..nice feeling..she had the proper amount of glances when she did it.
time passed..it was getting even better..she was invited in some events and laughed enough today...
......
Back at home..she went for a shower..
while water cleaned her from tiredness,she mentally went back at the club...
the blue eyed guy...."we had a nice talking"
"i m sure there is something more"
"did he felt the same?"
"i ll make a move tomorrow"
....
one more day that the club hoged her mind..
Her last fear collapsed under the time of loneliness and the message that the blue eyed guy left at her answer machine....
She looked out of her window.
"it's spring.how?"
......
the big time came..he was there..the same look..
and she was right..there was something more..
and it was the first time that it was so profound...
.........
she took him back home..
she woke up..there was a second pillow on the bed...she smiled..
she had her heart full of feelings..so intense that she could barely control them..
she felt again like a teenager...
and the WhateverLand was always the place to be..
....
One day she went to find the reason of her revival..
and he told her that today,he had to sit at the next table.
and he did so.
She lost her speech for a while..she could barely believe it...
she didn't give up.she tried to take him back at her table.only to her table.
nothing happened..the club revealed it's darkness a shiny afternoon.
....
This incident haunted her.took her back to memories she wanted to forget..
she did not stop hang out at WhateverLand...but there was no music anymore.silence and a constant buzz..nothing to distinguish....
.....
she went deeper.at the V.I.P rooms..she met people that had the seat at the head of the table.
she always went up to take a breath..and then down again..still was driving from lights to darkness..and clockwise..
...
she took a few more blue eyed people at her home.nothing was the same though.
still no music.....
time was not healing fast enough...
.....
tables started seem the same...the same smile everywhere..a second glance was enough now to find out if there was really a blue eyed or just a contact lenses effect....
walking around from the bar to the tables,to the V.I.P section.waving to strangers,choosing her companionship.companionship(?).more like something that made the clock fingers run faster...
.....
Some tables,a few old ones,some new kept her in the club.
she was more than a simple customer now.it was not just the outfit.she was a really interesting person.she had the whole package.somewhere.if you look closely you can see :'fragile','danger flammable explosive material','love friendly' etc.a gift that any adult would like to have in his-her hands.
Her enthusiasm started fading...
but it was now a home-like place..with locked bedroom and no fireplace..still home-like though.
.....
time passed..healed the wounds..only some scratches reminded her what happened...
no more deep diving.she left her self be carried by the waves.she enjoyed their tickle,the breeze and the smells the wind brought to her..there at the beach bar of WhateverLand.
"it's summertime"
.....
She realised that this is not enough for her anymore..she needed to dive for a while..
She walked along the shore.till she could hardly tell were the main bar was...
she wondered if the new shores had something to offer.and if she had time for them.
She put her leg on the water...
Tom Yorke and Bjork singing together.sweet explosions filled her mind...
A new smile.a fresh one.she walked barefoot and the sand was wet.
She could see her table.she had her own for a long time ago.still full..
Music stopped...she was the subject...
"nice to be missed"
She sat at the bar.she wanted to hear..everyone needs some confirmation.
"no ...it can't be true"
The table took the upper hand.the tablecloth fell off.she just noticed that they are naked.
and they spit on the floor.
"was i always naked?"
a wound started bleeding..
the buzz came back..in her head.
......
it was always in her head.sometimes covering the silence.sometimes waking her up.
"maybe this was always The music"
but she did not thought it throughout.
The table....it was mostly frustration..more than sadness....
for a moment she wondered why she was not sad..she asked herself if she grew up.
if nothing was innocent.
"it's play-time"
.....
Once upon a time in WhateverLand, there was a lady with sparkling eyes......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
