afterthought at the end of a year; goodbye 2008

Walter Benjamin writes in The storyteller:
'memory creates the chain of tradition which passes a happening on from generation to generation. It is the Muse-derived element of the epic art in a broader sense and encompasses its varieties. In the first place among these is the one practised by the storyteller. It starts the web which all stories together form in the end...'

can it be that every year is nothing else but one more story that adds to the final web which is the story of a person's life?
can it be that we, the subjects of our individual, personal stories- micronarratives and to a lesser extent subjects of the grand narrative of history, we experience our stories according to the inspiration that the muse gives us to experience and live our lives?
can it be that we just live better if we have been given the gift of being able to share our lives and tell our stories out loud in ways that will add to other people's stories?
can it be that our individual stories make sense only when they become part of the greater tradition of stories of humankind?
can it be that life is yet another form of the plenty forms and varieties of the epic art?


Happy 2009 (in approximately 70 hours)...
may the stories go on
may we have the passion to endure and experience
and the virtue to narrate and share

more to remember

..and what about what has not been captured in cameras and films, how can these be recorded in the micro-narratives of my story?

for example,

there are the recent Radiohead and REM albums that played non-stop in the cd
or
the evenings that I spent listening to other musics thanks to my friends
or
the song 'it's the first day of the rest of your life' playing non-stop on the 29th of July
or
the feeling of joy and triumph when the phone rang at 9.30 am on that morning
or
the tear that I could not control at the end of Complicite's A Disappearing Number
or
the scream of joy at the end of Schaubuehne's Hamlet
or
the pain I felt that February morning when I could not move from the bed
or
the disgust that I felt when I realised (yet again) how petty people can be
or
the evenings that I spent on the leather couch in Dublin drinking gin and tonic and talking or thinking about nonsense
or
the words that were not sent via email and the emails that were received late
or
the beauty of the words of Murakami and Mishima and Yoshimoto and all the Japanese writers that invaded my life this year
or
the taste of that strawberry sweet we used to have together in Leon
or
the moment when you told me 'read this, I will get you a coffee--what do you want?', but we were in Starbucks that day and it was a day during rehearsals
or
the tiredness of carrying my baggage to and from
or
your smile that I am carrying with me everyday and makes me smile--but you cannot see me because you are far away or because you don't know how much you can make me smile
or
the feeling of missing precious moments because you have chosen to be present and experience other moments
or
whatever is forgotten, considered unworthy and deleted from the long lists of memories at the end of a year..

something else to remember (grand narratives?)

I am not entirely sure that this will make it to the grand narrative of Greek History
but the recent (and ongoing) protests of the youth in Athens following the brutal murder of the 15-year-old boy on December 6th are definitely a moment to be remembered in the new year...

if Obama's victory is about the audacity of hope
the young Greek rebels are crying against the audacity of corruption and demanding the audacity of a better future...if any is left for 2009

something else to remember (grand narratives)

this moment has already entered the grand narrative of History
the anonymous individuals
and the one man that millions of people are expecting from
not as a static picture or a mirror image
but as a true tide of hope

Barack Obama elected American president (November 08)

something to remember (snapshots)

black and white
and a bit unclear
like some memories that you are not entirely sure
whether they are yours or
you have borrowed them from a film
or stole them from someone else..

and sunflowers in the vase
on the way out
on the 31st of August

in memoria of
life in Dublin

something to remember (snapshots)

the making of Halt!Manufactured; the ten days in the Newman Building (May 2008) and what can/might/will come next from these new friends

something to remember (snapshots)

the streets of Berlin, January 2008 (definitely one of the most attractive places I have ever been)

στην μνήμη του Αλέξη

μπορούμε αυτή την φορά να μην ξεχάσουμε;
να μην ξεχάσουμε το παιδί που έφυγε άδικα χωρίς να προλάβει να κάνει λίγα από αυτά που εμείς παίρνουμε ως δεδομένα και κάποιοι μες στην πόρωση τους και την μαλακία τους και την θρασυδειλία τους τα φτήνουν και από πάνω.
τα σπάνε και τα καίνε

η κρίση είναι τεράστια και μας κοιτα βαθειά στα μάτια -- ας την κοιτάξουμε και εμείς να δούμε τι μπορούμε να κάνουμε ο καθενας ξεχωριστά και όλοι μαζί. καιρός για ανάληψη ευθυνών--τώρα.επείγον.

θα προσπαθήσω να θυμάμαι τα μάτια σου Αλέξη
να φανταστώ όσα δεν πρόλαβαν να δουν και δυστυχώς όσα είδαν λίγο πριν το τέλος

in praise of... (1)

1. South West trains; especially on sundays for giving us free tours (well..relatively) in Surrey and Hampshire..London Waterloo to Winchester (via Staines, Egham etc!!!) today= 1 and a half hours...but if you take it easy and relax, there is something about the slowness of the trains and the realisation that nothing is THAT urgent that cannot be delayed for a while (not even a bunch of essays due on Monday morning), that makes you see the world outside the window in a different way;
2. Ella...just because she has been keeping me the best company in cold afternoons and evenings in the past month;
3. avocado..and the beautiful friend who initiated me to it;
4. little notes saying 'i love you' and 'i think of you' especially when they come from the other side of the world;
5. dolls especially when your mother rediscovers them and clean them up and dress them the way you used to do together;
6. keeping it up without expectations, without desires, without pressure;
7. japanese literature, for the surprises and the beauty in the pain;
8.blogging for offering again another space to breathe and be;
9. complicite's a disappearing number that is still so vivid in my mind and giving me so many good ideas;
10. winter, yes, winter for always filling me with hope

new look

i like the new look of Drifting Planets...dark and playful at the same time
corresponds to my need to feel that I am moving on and some things are changing
including the arrangement and the style of my planets
who still, 2 years and more later, carry on roaming, drifting and meeting again
perhaps less frequently than before but still truthfully (or at least trying to)

like people that I meet and then (either them or me) disappear
but the challenge always comes with those who don't disappear
who are somewhere around, closer or far away
it doesn't matter whether I see them or not
or even whether I speak with them on a day-to-day basis
i know that they are around and this is the challenge--always
how we meet and then carry on with our individual journeys
only to meet again at another moment

weird...

okay
first, I wake up this morning from an incomprehensible rhythmic sound which reminds me of an alarm clock or a fire alarm but it is neither -- nor; it might have been someone buzzing the bell, probably the milkman since I saw a small bottle at the outside door later on

then, I sleep again and I am transferred into this weird story where my flat is full with smoke, the carpet is dirty or covered with another carpet,I am cooking fish that I will eat reluctantly and semi-burnt three hours later when I realise (while being on the train) that I have left the oven on and I rush back home (through Woking or Basingstoke or something) to find out that a friend of mine has saved the day by turning off the oven. but then, i have a visit of this person that I love very much (both in the dream and in reality) and he looks so ill and horrible and he says that he is not hopeful..and i start crying because it cannot be--no..and i wake up because a sob is shaking me...

and now, for the past two hours the phone has been ringing and whenever I pick up, I can only hear another rhythmic sound (like a fax or the sound of an internet modem) and I just say hello hello hello and nobody answers --and i feel weird

is this day turning into a David Lynch film? a part of me wants to switch off all electric devices and lock all the doors to keep these ominous sounds and images outside..