and in my own time...

i started disliking airplanes
but mostly airports with all the plastic bags and the crap surrounding them
'smoking is not permitted in the building; please use only the designated areas..'
perhaps the term 'non-place' really is accurate; or empty place in my case
...
i also realised that an avocado can stay alive in the fridge for
more than 15 days..still decided to throw it away
...
i got rid of the christmas tree in one go
no second thoughts, no wondering of what might happen till next christmas
..
i have this crazy urge to start smoking in my study like good old days
i will keep fighting against it --for a while
..
heard the silence buzzing in my ears last night
had to turn on all the lights
and sing to forget it
i am still carrying it with me
..
am getting used to not hearing my top favourite phrases
'stuff' and 'how is life?'
...
am landing
...
how long does it take for a space to turn into a place?

yet again... (for the year in Dublin)

places are safer when you see them on a map

when you just arrive and you cannot feel

the distinctive smell

the peculiarity of the city

cannot really tell what's special about the accents

and north and south divisions seem irrelevant to you...

places are safer when you see them from a plane

or arrive at 8am, late June

and you stand by a bridge thinking

'oh what a strange deja-vu; i have lived here before'

but then perhaps you haven't..you are just about to

places are safer when you just bring in your baggage

your memories, your longing of a different place

and when your everyday walk is a bit of a surprise

looking for a flat, looking for a job, looking for a friend

places are safer when you don't understand the local jokes

or the references to names that you can't even pronounce

when you stay in the safe twilight zone of the outsider who

does not really want to learn about the inside--

but pretends that she does

and you walk by houses without knowing or caring about whose house they were

or pass by statues and read the information but they remain as irrelevant to you as before

places are safer when they just have a name

and numbers of people that are irrelevant to you and your world..

but

places become dangerous when a little cafe has become your favourite niche

and a number of buses take you to your everyday journey

and the face of the guards are getting more and more familiar

just because you walk past them everyday

and the concrete built building becomes familiar

even at 9pm on january nights

when you leave it and the lights are off

and it's cold, you shake in your coat

places become dangerous when they are filled in

by sounds and stories and memories

and corridors and rooms and pubs and drinks and flats

and names of people

first names

then faces

then bodies

then beings

then presences

yes, a place becomes dangerous when it's full with presences

here now, not from the world of before..

and soon, just as the safety net,

just at a glimpse of the second

it takes you to close and open your eyes again

the presences have become absences again

and your suitcase is full with cards and gifts to remember

and the place is gone

just like a dream, it's gone and vanished

and you cannot see its face...

you see it from above again

like before but

you cannot go back to the moment that it was just a name

and not a year of your life

and you wish you could go to that moment

when the place was a name

when the place was safe

when the place had not taken part in your story---

but yet again/you don't

the ship song (just for you)

night in Dublin
03.18, groups of people in their early twenties
running to catch the last night bus south..
i am walking and i feel my blue shawl getting more and more wet..
thank God I am wearing boots..
cross the traffic lights in trinity, walking on Dame street
how long have I been living here?
when am I gonna get my own way ticket?
when is this gonna be over?
why didnt this ever work out?
you are lying to me..

such a lucky bastard

03.21
a girl with black hair among other girls with blond hair
is trying to find her balance on her silvery high heels
trembling wet hair
and her silvery short skirt soak
and the sounds of people screaming
running towards me and my shawl being soak wet
and i feel the coldness of the may rain pearcing me
my skin, inside..
sirens hurling in the night
and girls and boys gathered outside the cheap chinese take-away..
ugly..
i dont fucking belong here

please show me home
'-only when i am gone, only then
-i appreciate that'

03.28
i am running back home
and feel the rain on my cheeks
and the tears
cheap as it sounds
yes i am crying
for going back home on that dublin night
and for being wet
and for screaming that i feel zero pain
while i should have
and for being May again

03.31
back home
hair dryer and the rain growing stronger
'if i dont catch you when you are over
i guess i will see you whenever'
turn on the heating
wanna feel your 8 and the warmth on the skin
and us never managing to meet
and us never having the proper timing
and you asking--really why did you ask me?

03.53
'we talk about it all night long
we define our moral grounds
but when i crawl into your arms
well everything comes tumbling down..
-your face has grown sad now..
when i must remove your wings
and you..you must try to fly..

come sail your ships around me
and burn your bridges down
you are a little mystery to me
everytime you call in round..'

03.56
everytime it rains in May
the ships lose the compass
lose the orientation...

but next morning they will sail again.anew..as if nothing ever happened
as if it never rained that night in Dublin

10+1 things that i learnt on my birthday

1. that the beautiful gardens in the Museum of Modern Art are not supposed to be playgrounds
2. that it comes in handy to wear a hat on a day that starts with sun especially in case you take the Dublin Bus
3. how to pronounce correctly Aran and Leenane
4. how (not) to (dis)appear
5. that certain restaurants are closed on Sundays for dinner
6.how to eat snails in a great French restaurant in the heart of Dublin
7. that it would have come in handy to have an umbrella rather than a hat when it is raining like crazy by the end of the day
8. that it's good to be back home and smell roses, vanilla and drink aromatic tea while rethinking and rewriting about belonging and imagination
9. that some friends never forget you even if they are in the far end of the world (Australia/New Zealand)
10. that I will be able to get Far Away So Close, at least in the German version
and..
11. that life is weird..but still wonderful/wundervoll...

28 ή πάμε για άλλα

03.35 says the watch--yes, of course, this is the time of the year that we go an hour ahead--and this is the time of the year that coincides with my birthday
28 now..
they just stole an hour from the 29th year of my life

but it doesn't really matter
i will go to bed and tomorrow morning i will feel the smell of white roses, planted the same day that i was born
and hear the sounds of water
and dream of an ideal sunset somewhere in my hometown
and know deep down that everything will go fine
and i will be happy in the end
against all odds
and against all methods

been there
done that
had the T-shirt
dont want to do it anymore..
turn the page
take a deep breath
and go on..
this is my birthday present to myself this year and more will come...

angels wings

and something else..

to escape from mortality and loss, can I please have a pair of angels' wings?

time to fly away..

hurt (like Samantha)

independence and self-sufficiency are myths..no matter how much I respect and have worked towards them, this morning I realised how awful it is to wake up, be in pain and be alone..and the archetype of the hero does not work in such cases..because the pain is strong and even the voice of a stranger offers a lot more consolation than the voice inside you..

actually i think, i cannot really write it, but yes I must, actually I do hate being alone..especially when I know that there are certain people in this world who could be by my side, but I (chose to be) am away from them..

now that I feel better, the pain went away, it's reconstruction time again...reconsideration...think back; what is really important? what matters the most and what can you do for that?can I find a way?

ps. the title of the post is trying to distort its seriosity; did anyone understand what I am referring to?

fading out...

some photographs might turn yellow when time goes by

and some memories when narrated for a hundred times

sound a lot more trivial than the first time

and some times it takes a lot less effort than you expected

and things just are a tiny bit easier than before

and you feel better--admit it!

it's February

and according to a particular calendar

of a place that I just get to know

this is the very first month of spring

bizarre though it might sound

I think that this time I would rather 'classify' February

into my spring months

rather than the icy heart of winter

that always left a distant memory covered in snow

fading out..again and again..

ausgang..

huge,vast parks and 'platz'

and brown leaves, no leaves

and vast skies, all the world could fit in this place

beautiful, painfully sometimes

the night close to the wall and the topography of the branches nearby

and a dim light coming from the moon? no, rather the purplish roof of the complex building

a golden aura

and a smirk in her eyes while

the bus to the zoo centre passed her by

and then, the umbrella broke

but her wings protected me--

victory at last came down the pedestal and introduced herself to me..

something is changing

don't know whether it's love

but it's gotta to be what the germans call 'ausgang'

i.e. exit

i.e. way out---free at last

2007,this one goes to my blueberry year

‘a blueberry pie is left whole every night;
Why? What’s wrong with the blueberry pie?
Nothing is wrong with the blueberry pie;
it’s just that nobody wants it.’

And so, here we go again..last year I was writing on the very last year of 2006, now I am writing in the first hours of 2008—last year I was writing about fragments and people and places and memories and moments
This year I want to write about my blueberry year, this bitter-sweet taste of a year that lasted two hours less since it started in a home that no longer exists to finish somewhere that is yet to become home and most probably will never become.

wanted to press a button and be home;
my reflection on the windows of south west trains,
sometime before midnight
tasting Guinness;
the 22nd of March, counting stops
knowing that I had to get off-the biggest mistake of the year,
but why regrets now?
Walking in the forest..why didn’t I stay there forever?

And tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you; and I know it’s all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am because it’s beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort..

The reflection of myself in your eyes
Made me understand who I am—and what I wanna be
And what I will try to become..
And this reflection is not that bad..

Not for what I thought
Bless the universe for a blueberry year
That I was never planning to have
But when I tasted, I found my way to what might this year reveal itself as home…
[a small personal note:

always friends..and I love you

last and only open letter to you-if you ever find your way back to my drifting planets, read this just to find out that what I’ve told you so many times during the year was actually true. something that belonges to the blueberry year that is now over.
(pause..sigh..change the rhythm..)]

remember (you who read this,me who write this)
be generous and grateful for the gift of life..
and make the choice to be there..
here and now

always.
..and so the story continues..

Happy New Year 2008; a year that might not taste like blueberry anymore

and who knows? this might make a difference

Οι εξαιρετικές μας στιγμές (για τους φίλους)

(αντί για ευχαριστώ, αφιερωμένο σε μια όμορφη εικόνα)

Αν υπάρχει κάτι που δεν θα πάψει να με ξαφνιάζει ποτέ, είναι το πώς και πού ενώνονται οι άνθρωποι--όχι το γιατί,ενδεχομένως εν μέρει και το πότε. Η νομοτέλεια της γνωριμίας με κάποιον άνθρωπο είναι πάντα συναρπαστική..αναρωτιέμαι καμια φορά, αλήθεια 'πότε άνοιξα τη πόρτα και μπήκε αυτός/αυτή στη ζωή μου;' και τις περισσότερες φορές δεν θυμάμαι--μάλλον θυμάμαι, τις στιγμούλες μετά, με κρασιά λιώμα σε ένα γήπεδο τένις κάποιου πανεπιστημίου στα περίχωρα του Λονδίνου, με άλλα αλκοόλ και θαύματα στο βράχο της Ακρόπολης βράδυ Ιουνίου λίγο μετά την αλλαγή του αιώνα, κάποια βράδια σε ένα μικρό καθιστικό της πρώτης ενηλικίωσης με ήχους από Ντύλαν και Σαββόπουλο και Τζόνι και Τζεφ, καπνίζοντας, δεν μιλάς--δεν μιλώ..'πςς άκου-άκου' και μετά να λες τις ιστορίες..κάτι βράδια να σταματάμε στην εθνική, για τσιγάρο και καφέ και ας είναι 3 το πρωί και η παράσταση να είναι χάλια..για να ξεχνάς της αρχαίας ζωής τα παθήματα...και χρόνια πίσω, βράδυ Ιουνίου και πάλι, σε μια βεράντα να ακούμε τον 'άνεμο της αλλαγής' και να κάνουμε τα χάρτινα πιάτα φρίσμπι, να φτάσουν στη θάλασσα του Πειραιά, να γίνουν καράβια, να φύγουν μακριά, να φύγουμε και εμείς μαζί τους..'αν σε χάσω θα χαθώ..' και να είναι η πρώτη φορά που το λες και το εννοείς..και όμως δεν χάθηκες

τις στιγμούλες μετά, όχι όμως και τη πρώτη στιγμή--τη πρώτη φορά τη θυμάται κανείς μάλλον μόνο στον έρωτα...γιατί εκεί είναι και η στιγμή που σφάζει τον χρόνο και μετά παλεύεις να την κάνεις διάρκεια--με τους φίλους, είναι αυτά τα σταυροδρόμια, είναι αυτές οι τελετουργίες που σμίγουν με μαγειρικές και όνειρα '- πωπω ρε κουμπάρα, τη τυρόπιτα έκανες πάλι -- αν πάρω τη δουλειά εκεί, τότε θα..-' τραγούδια και χορούς, τσαλακωμένα χαρτομάντηλα, ουρλιαχτά και εκκωφαντικές σιωπές--με τους φιλους είναι η πορεία..η διάρκεια,τα μπαλόνια που πετούν στον ουρανό και μετά πιάνει βροχή και όμως..
με τους φίλους είναι που χάνεσαι και ξαναβρίσκεσαι και τόσα αλλάζουν στη πορεία αλλά δεν πειράζει,θα τα ξαναβρούμε--ίσως γιατί με αυτούς οι 'εξαιρετικές στιγμές' πάντα πηγάζουν από αυτή την βαθειά γνώση του 'εγώ' και του 'εσύ' και του 'εμείς'--είναι που ξέρουν πως δεν υπάρχεις μόνο στα βαθύτερα εντός αλλά και σε κάποιες επιφανειακές περιοχές, που ξέρουν να ξεφτιλίσουν μαζί σου ό,τι αξίζει να ξεφτιλιστεί και να αγκαλιάσουν αυτά που ξέχασες να θωπεύσεις για χρόνια, που ρίχνουν 4 κουταλιές ζάχαρη στον καφέ ενώ εσύ τον πίνεις σκέτο και τη ζάχαρη στο σπίτι την έχεις μονάχα για αυτούς..

είναι που σε λίγες μέρες κάποιους από αυτούς θα τους ξαναδω κάτω από χριστουγεννιάτικα λαμπιόνια και άγιους βασίληδες και θα ξαναβρούμε παλιές διαδρομές..στα σκοτάδια και ξανά στο φως..και εγώ θα δακρύζω στη μυρωδιά του κύμινου ενώ αυτοί θα λατρεύουν τη κανέλα

λίγες οι νύχτες με φεγγάρι που μου αρέσουν...

τελικά τα πιο όμορφα φεγγάρια τα έχω δει στον βορρά
απόψε, στο Δουβλίνο για παράδειγμα είδα από το παράθυρο τη πιο όμορφη πανσέληνο των τελευταίων μηνών..
και σκεφτόμουν αυτή την παράξενη γυναίκα με το λουλουδωτό παλτό και τα επικίνδυνα μάτια, γύρω στα πενήντα, να λεει πως μια τέτοια νύχτα στο προαύλιο του Τρίνιτι στάθηκε και ακούμπησε τη πλάτη της στον τοίχο, κοίταξε το φεγγάρι και κατάλαβε τι σημαίνει να γράφεις από τον τάφο..
για μένα βέβαια αυτή η ασημένια λάμψη πάνω από τη γειτονιά δεν μου μοιάζει με τάφο--αλλά ούτε και με κάτι ζωντανό-ενδεχομένως αν όλοι οι ήχοι σταματούσαν να ένιωθα τι ήθελε να πει αυτή η παράξενη γυναίκα, που μες στην αμηχανία μου, ακούγοντάς την γέλασα..με το καχεκτικό γέλιο του ανίδεου

but you promised..

to tell me a fairy tale before I sleep,

never to make me listen to the same story again

dont bring me where I've been before

I'd rather sleep

One year old

Birthdays are always strange-you never know what to say. Today was the birthday of this blog; I had almost forgotten but then my memory is working in unexpected ways making associations between dates, people, places and things in the most awkward and occasionally painful way.

'the figure is a constellation..What else is in this universe, this drawing? Other stars, far away. I hunt through my tools and find a needle. I begin to prick the paper full of tiny holes, and each pin prick becomes a sun in some other set of worlds. And when i have a galaxy full of stars I prick out this figure, which now becomes a constellation in earnest, a network of tiny lights..'

In a moment of absolute silence, reading this passage, I remembered-as if had a moment of clarity not through myself but through the voice of another and everything that appeared absurd and happening for no reason at all, for the past year, at that moment of perfect silence, seemed to have had a reason. And for this tiny moment, everything became transparent and every pain, every joy, every fear and anger that I have carried around in my universe since that Friday afternoon a year ago, vanished--

and left only me, with my here and now, this tiny portion of this all-encompassing universe. And I guess, this is a turn of the page..

September

so, it's been a while...have not written a word here, does this mean that I live life in an 'alive' and not that 'virtual' way? well, I am not sure--I blame the 'liminal' transitional stages in life.

I don't want to write about fears, fires and elections - ήταν τέτοια η μαυρίλα αυτού του καλοκαιριού, μακάρι να μπορούσα να ξεχάσω- ο Σαββόπουλος λέει για τα κόκκινα της δύσης που ανατέλει..δυστυχώς φέτος ήταν για τα κόκκινα της φλόγας που έγινε μαύρη και φρίκη. όσο για τις εκλογές, δεν έχουμε ελπίδα καμιά-νομίζω..μονάχα σιωπή έχω.

In the meantime, I moved to Dublin-the new life that I have 'ordered', now is becoming real..it feels good most of the times-good and scary as always. new faces, new places, new words and names--September like the Septembers of my childhood, when I returned to school,craving for more and at the same time wanting to hide under the desk..

the more I grow up, the more I realise how time is circular-even in a moment that appears entirely new, you will find out something that you may have encountered before. it's like falling in love with the same person over and over again, or making the same mistake over and over again. it feels f***ing amazing because within the newness, one can recognise what they thought they lost forever.

κάθε τέλος κρύβει μια αρχή-και κάθε αρχή πάντα έχει τους σπόρους του τέλους της μαζί..

Καλή αρχή-καλή χρονιά...

simple

tried to find pictures
played with words
remembered bees,
loosy poetry and popping chewing gums
the blue radiance in the making
and spiders like branches..
failed in abstraction-
some things are only simple and
they just happen to you
while sitting on the couch
drinking lemon ice tea and
watching stupid music videos
they happen-regardless..
some things are simple
but demand your attention
and want you to accept that they exist-

one thing-simple, accepted, fact
I miss you
regardless..

I never liked looking at old photographs- they make me sad.
I see all these faces of people that i used to have in my life but some of them are now only vague memories.
But tonight, I felt this nostalgia--and instead of looking at old photos, I started reading old emails--some of them will remain all time classic even if the people who wrote them are by now outsiders.
there is a sense of joy always hidden in pain, even though it shouldn't be this way...

Call me Doc!

when I grow up, I want to be like him..:)
well...not exactly but still a doc!
PhD over! finally!

A Midsummer's Morning Dream

and finally here we are. some things, some days you think that will never come. but here I am-one day before, waiting, preparing and hoping that this long and most fulfilling trip will end in the best possible way.
one day before my viva-
take your positions, put on your best smile, look for a last time whatever you created.
and then...
Ready? Go!

A la maniere de Marcel Proust..

This is not an interview- I am just playing the game that Mia started; or that it started from Marcel Proust and lately is becoming fashionable in Greek newspapers. I am writing in English though, since I know that some of my favourite people would not be able to read it if I were to write in Greek. So, here we go:

What is absolute happiness for you?
The moment that you don’t register as absolute happiness
What makes you wake up in the morning?
A cup of strong coffee
When was the last time that you burst into laughter?
A couple of hours ago
What is the defining feature of your character?
I don’t really know
And your defining flaw?
Stubbornness, lack of patience and anger
Which mistakes can you forgive?
Those that I could have also made
With which person in history do you identify yourself?
History is not about identifying..
Who are your favourite heroes today?
Those who have no name
Which is your favourite trip?
The one that hasn’t started yet
Your favourite writers?
Dostoyevski, Kane, Τσίρκας, Σεφέρης (to name a few)
What qualities do you prefer for a man?
I’d rather be surprised but definitely I need to see a sparkle in his eye
What qualities do you prefer for a woman?
Same as above
Who is your favourite composer?
By now Χατζηδάκης
Which song do you whistle when you shower?
I never whistle- I’m terrible
A book you cannot forget?
The Idiot, Ακυβέρνητες Πολιτείες
A film you cannot forget?
Ulysses’ Gaze
Your favourite painter?
Magritte and Cezanne
Your favourite colour?
Purple of course, and these days blue
What do you think is your greatest achievement?
Everything and nothing really
Your favourite drink?
Gin n’ tonic and Guiness
What have you regretted the most?
The times I was not honest to myself
What do you despise the most?
Arrogant stupidity, lack of awareness, ungratefulness
When you don’t write which is your favourite pastime activity?
Walking around and making up stories or hanging out with my friends
Which is your biggest fear?
‘That the sky will fall on my head!’- I rarely know my fears, apart from darkness
In which cases would you rather not tell the truth?
When it’s not worth it
What is your motto?
These days, ‘let it be’
How would you like to die?
Fighting for what I believe
If you were to meet God what would you like him to tell you?
What difference would it make?
What is your mental condition these days?
As usual- hard to define.