27

tonight

with the company or memory of those who love me

tonight

with the bitter-sweet taste of the last six months

tonight instead of wishing happy birthday to me..

a picture of the universe

an appropriate ending to the 27th year of my life

an appropriate post in a blog that is about planets that drift

a blog that is all about the smallness of our lives in this big universe

about the small, the minor, the non-important but important at the same time

about what makes one smile,cry,fall in love,get angry,excited or thoughtful

in this constant motion of our lives or the universe

tonight

I close my eyes and try to imagine the universe

I don't thınk that the picture is actually real and even if it is, I don't think it is enough

I close my eyes and imagine the universe

I remind myself of how small I am in this constant movement of energy and time

never before so many conflicting feelings inside

never before feeling so young and so small

never before so scared but willing to say goodbye to this old world

and let myself be enfolded by this greatest power..

the blue beast is somewhere around,because it is not only what we are aware of that exists...

and let this be the thought that will keep me company while I continue my journey

not to be reproduced

leave me out with the waste
this is not what I do
it’s the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you
it’s the wrong time for somebody new
it’s a small crime and I’ve got no excuse
is that alright with you?
I give my gun away when it’s loaded
is that alright with you?
if you don’t shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?
is that alright with you?
no

(repetition- time is relative after all)

Βράδυ Σαββάτου

και για να θυμηθούμε λίγο και τις ρίζες μας και την εφηβεία μας:

βράδυ Σαββάτου και εσύ είσαι κάπου
άραγε πού να βρίσκεσαι, γιατί να λες;
περνάει ο χρόνος, βαρύς και μόνος
και όλες τις σκέψεις μου για σένα δεν τις θες
άδεια η πόλη πού πήγαν όλοι
και όλοι είσαι εσύ που έφυγες χωρίς να φταις
άδεια η πόλη τι γίναν όλοι
αν με θυμάσαι στην υγειά μου κάτι πιες..

because maybe I’ m too young..

R for Reasons

retrospect
rollercoaster
response
rational
return
respect
right
regret
responsibility

one

hiding and exposure is the same

Repos

even puppets need a break
somehow
with no strings

Improper

Faust falls in love with Margarita
disguised one night he goes to her room
she is not around
he walks in
observes her things
imagines her in the room
he looks at his reflection in her mirror
and stops..
I shouldn’t be here
the devil is smiling behind.

Faust has sealed a pack with him
He got a second chance to be young again.
If for one moment, though, only for one moment
he thinks ‘this is true happiness- if only time could stop here’
then he will be damned for ever.
the proper pay-back..

Have you ever wanted to be somewhere but the moment you get there,
you knew that you shouldn’t be there?
και η ερώτηση είναι: πώς φεύγεις;

Europe

These days I have been developing an obsession with an idea: Europe. The word has almost replaced another geographical location that (as the people who know me can testify) I refer to a lot: Greece. From the topical, the particular to the more general, ‘international’- but again, perhaps there is something topical and particular about Europe. Something that unites the European countries, that makes them different (not necessarily opposed to-but different) from countries in other continents. Is this a utopia or a thought that remains marginalised because of the fear to be elevated and turned into a new ideology? Because, in the past, this strong belief in European political, cultural and ideological supremacy fell apart when the same ideals caused some of the biggest wounds in history.

Starting from some very practical questions and the need to define a clear research area for an upcoming presentation, I find myself wondering more and more whether Europe is something more than a continent-a place on planet earth. Whether it is a singular entity or just a term that embraces many singulars and cannot become plural? Whether it is worth further research and what are the risks? Is it an empty signifier? An imagined non-community?
Last night, I saw David Greig’s Europe at the Barbican. I don’t think that the play or the production gave me any answers, I am not sure whether it provided me with new questions either.
But still re-reading the note for the production, I find myself wondering: are there ‘old’ and ‘new’ Europeans? Who are they and how can we tell the difference? Who can use the name ‘European’ and what are the connotations? Who is the ‘self’ and who is ‘the other’ in Europe now? Can the outsiders perceive more clearly than the insiders? and if not, how do you become an ‘insider’? And what do we long for? What have we lost?
Do we want to be called ‘Europeans’ and if we do, then what do we mean? The narratives of religion, or sovereign democracies and nation-states have supposedly been delegitimised by now (thanks to the WW2 and the ‘postmoderns’); so, what is the solid foundation for Europe? or a Union for Europe? And if it is impossible to be realised in political and institutional terms (no wonder that the European Constitution was not ratified in some member-states or that other members states did not join the EMU), can it happen in cultural terms? What does the word ‘supranational’ mean? it is obscure, it is institutional; is it void? I am questioning my intuition: ‘there is something about Europe and theatre that has not yet been found’. Or, is there? after all, what does Europe signify for me and do I have a responsibility to find out? (again, starting with autobiographical questions…unavoidable, I guess.)

No answers.. the circles are growing and the centre is always displaced and dislocated. Perhaps another journey is going to start soon.. perhaps, this time, a map will be necessary.

just a perfect day..

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road
Healthy, free, the world before me.
the long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth, I ask not good-fortune- I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth, I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road

The earth-that is sufficient
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women- I carry them wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am filled with them and I will fill them in return.)

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons
It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions
They may prove well in the lecture rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds,
and along the landscape and flowing currents.

W.Whitman’s song of the open road
for the simple happy thought
and the lightness
and the ending that marked a new beginning.
for a moment in London
when people kept staring at me
and I kept staring and smiling at them
and they didn’t know why
but I did- and it was enough…

looking for the blue

not know what to write
looking around the room
trying to hold on to something
some sort of inspiration, of newness-
no- not my voice
borrow words from someone else
but not the ‘usual suspects’

he kept staring at me, demanding my attention
I took the book
randomly opened a page and read

une chambre qui ressemble à une rêverie, une chambre véritablement spirituelle ou l’ atmosphère stagnante est légèrement teintée de rose et de bleu. L’âme y prend un bain de paresse, aromatise par le regret et le désir- c’est quelque chose de crépusculaire, de bleuâtre et de rosâtre ; un rêve de volupté pendant une éclipse.

Baudelaire revealed again
in blue

what lies inside..

anticipation and stress
strong heart-beat and pulse
then
wind on the face
the sight of the city over the bridge

flickering lights
and humidity
seeking orientation
taste of strange red wine
the smile on your face
and rivers of words
smell of winter
eyes open or closed
the branches of the trees struggle me
‘did I dream you dreamt about me?’

and..
walking in the rain
watching people passing by
listening to languages I don’t understand
waiting
walking some more
remembering four years

taste of orange juice
the smile on his face
‘enjoy the freedom’

life.. wide open
see what lies inside..
no singular
only plural
simply a smile
that dissolves everything
in beauty and silence

thank you

5 Random Truths about me..

So, since my dear Mia Wallace made the request/invitation via her blog for each one of us to follow her example and write 5 things about us, here is my list:

1. Since I was 7, I had a collection of paper napkins from everywhere I was going; I stopped collecting at the age of 19, and now I have more than 500 different kinds of paper napkins. Since last year, I am collecting mugs from every place I visit.
2. At the age of 9, I organised a whole plot against my nanny in order to make sure that she would go; and I succeeded. Definitely, one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
3. As a teenager, I was crazy about football but did not support the club I was supposed to (i.e., for Greek readers, I was not an Olympiakos fun). Numerous fights with the boys, including one of them tearing the lovely poster of my club that I have made for the drawing course. Ah!
4. I hate celery, beans, and (to a lesser extent) eggs.
5. I confess: I read Harry Potter and my favourite character is Lord Voldemort.

I doubt that any of the above offers any more insight into who I am; but I will return to the topic in the future talking about the things that we love to say about ourselves- our self-ideologies.

PS. for Mia: I have an intuition that I know what you are going to reveal about me via your blog: is it in any way related to your Sunday visit and sleeping in my bed? do the words ‘duvet’ and ‘buttons’ ring a bell ;)?

Algos..

nostalgia
nostos-algos
seeking
the return
home

no(st)algia
no algos
no pain
no sense of home
no strings attached

sink in the gravity
or fly away
fearless
and free
‘it’s true; you have nothing to lose
now that everything seems to have been won’

Memories of a goldfish

running over the same old ground,
what have we found?

..soul closed in a fishbowl
making rounds around same things
same thoughts
same places and dreams..
if only..
have the memory a goldfısh..
and forget about the fishbowl

Des larmes

je me fais pleurer, pour me prouver que ma douleur n'est pas une illusion

les larmes sont des signes, non des expressions.

par mes larmes, je raconte une histoire,

je produis une mythe de la douleur

R. Barthes ,Fragments d'un discours amoureux

encounters of the last night

...a colourful dinosaur jumped on her lap
turned and looked at her
as if he was expecting something..
she stroke him like she used to stroke her cat

now this is her cat
looking at her with her usual frown on her face
but she is not white anymore
but ginger and she is sitting on the table
and waiting for her to wake up
and it will be summer again

(Summer by Miro,

and notes from the diary of a hyper 'bat-nerd')

Tuesday 13th February

για τις παλιές αγάπες μη μιλάς
στα πιο μεγάλα θέλω κάνουν πίσω
δεν άντεξαν μαζί και χάθηκαν μακριά
κρυφτήκαν στις σπηλιές χαμένων παραδείσων

'remember me- always'

...some years later
tried to remember
but no
only a song
only a date
Tuesday 13th February

I guess it's true,
nothing lasts forever-but nothing..

Bat-wings on a flying broom...

The ‘hyper bat- nerd’ returns… with her large bat-wings (like her good old grey ‘blanket’ covering half her face), running up and down in the flat trying out ways to fly and go save the world (or herself). A strong sense of self-discipline, tons of caffeine, many cartons of cigarettes and very few hours of sleep are necessary for this great endeavour that she has begun.

Last night she dreamt of flying on a magic broom, her ‘bat wings’ wide open, trying to catch something as small and precious as the golden snitch. When she woke up in the morning she could not remember what she was after; in any case, one day soon she might get her golden snitch..No caffeine, no tobacco, no self-discipline will be necessary- only magic.

Look around; soon, you will see her flying outside your window, on her magic broom, spreading her grey bat-wings..a ‘hyper bat-nerd’ is to become a witch (again)!

A white night

03.41
no sound outside
as if someone turned the volume down
I always liked staying up all night when everybody else is sleeping, wonder what dreams they are having
tonight I am awake
and in the darkness I can see pure white
snow is falling softly in the suburbs of London
covering gradually the roofs and the trees
all is becoming white
tomorrow morning people will complain about late trains and problems in commuting
all these I find boring
for me it's only about the joy of watching this silent dance of snow
covering everything
in silence
that's a moment of happiness

I will stay up all night
snow will keep me company
by the first light of dawn
the white of the snow will have covered everything
I will go out
let the snow cover me
dissolve everything
and vanish

03.51 the dance is getting wild
let it go on
in silence

A bottle in the ocean

Today I woke up and thought of three different topics I could write about in thıs blog. I thought the 'hyper bat-nerd', the icy river and the list of my recent 'discoveries' whatever this might mean. I even wrote the posts but then.
.out of the blue, as always, a surprise made me change my mind. A parcel all the way from Melbourne for me, a 'doctor'..and Elvis Costello and Leonard Cohen and sounds from our Greek childhood and some music I dont know and have to 'discover' - ..and the letter that made me smile and cry at the same time.

Thank you is never enough. A bottle in the ocean for you, for always being here even though you are so far away. For being a real friend, sharing, taking, giving..and silence in the room listening to some song and then you explaining- beauty and happiness is so simple..I just forget..

..she was wrong- she does not discover, she does not achieve or earn- she is, moves, flows, loves and people, real friends, old and new, meet her in different moments- and they simply are who they are, they share in theır presence, they laugh, they cry and then they let her go on- until the next crossroads. Until the next moment when a simple smile and a look in their eyes will make her feel warm.

And the bottle with or without a message keeps travelling in the ocean...