Monday, January 31, 2005

Rule of thumb...

A person who is nice to you but rude to a waiter, is not a nice person.

Dogs and ring-tones

I propose the following experiment. I am sure that otoacoustic guys (like yk) will find it particularly intriguing.

It is a well known and scientifically established fact that people who own dogs tend to look like them. It may be that they choose to own dogs that look like them, or they slowly change and become like their dogs, or their dogs change or something, but it's a fact.

On the train today (the "electrical"), cell phones kept ringing. And every now and then you would hear the most ridiculous, or interesting, or peculiar ring tone. So every time I heard such a ring tone, I would first try to imagine the personality that would have selected such a ring-tone, and then I would discretely turn and see the face of the person to see if it matched my expectations.

Most of the times I was totally off. The most boring people would own cell phones playing the most exciting dance tunes. The most well dressed guys would have their phones play the "karagouna". And the most serious would play the tune from "karagiozis".

So I guess that this verifies my theory that people select ring tones NOT because they like their sound, but because it's a way for them to pretend they are not who they seem to be: "I may look like I am boring, but I actually have a sense of humour". "I may seem like a no-life accountant type of guy, but actually every night I go dancing and partying at the most hip places". And stuff like that.

So choosing a ring-tone is the opposite of owning a dog, in this respect: You choose a ring-tone that contradicts your persona!

Anyone care to provide more data points?...

As for myself, my cell phone goes "ring-ring.... ring-ring...." so I guess my message to the world is "what you see is what you get... woops, this is where I get off...".

Friday, January 28, 2005

A bird in the hand...

This little fellow must have tried to fly through my (closed) window. I heard a loud THUMP and found him sitting on the porch, dazed. He was polite enough to give me the time to go get my camera, and even let me pet his head before he flew off.

Good luck, little birdie! Stay away from cats (and I don't mean the musical).

Ρομαντική Σαρδέλλα

Έχω έναν αδερφό, μικρότερο, που ζεί στην Αμερική.

Ελπίζω να γυρίσει κοντά μου, αλλά τον συμβουλεύω να μη γυρίσει. Ελπίζω να με καταλαβαίνει και να μη με παρεξηγεί. Μάλλον με παρεξηγεί.

Είναι τύπος "sui generis". Τον θαυμάζω πολύ. Σε θέματα επικοινωνίας δε σκίζουμε.

Του αφιερώνω τους παρακάτω στοίχους, που έρχονται από ένα κόσμο στον οποίο αυτός με μύησε.

"Δεν είσαι παρά μια ρομαντική σαρδέλα,
ταλαίπωρη, εξορισμένη,
στα επαναληπτικά σκοτάδια
της παραφουσκοκρατίας.
Σέρνεσαι, από τη μοίρα σου,
κι απ' τις μακρυές χερούκλες των προγόνων σου,
δεν είσαι παρά ένα σκουλίκι μες στο μήλο."
(Ηρακλής & Λερναία Ύδρα)

Tuesday, January 25, 2005


There's a period of time during each winter, which lasts a few days usually, in which I develop a very strong urge for the summer. I just can't wait for the dry heat to come and burn the surface of the earth. I find it inconceivable that a few months back I was suffocating by the heat, cursing every afternoon hour, having 5 showers a day and praying for the winter to come.

My imagination is flooded with images from dry, rocky, barren island hillsides, scarce yellowish vegetation and smells of oregano, thyme and dust blowing everywhere. I remember past excursions in such sceneries, walking up and down the rocks to reach some remote, secluded beach, a small bottle of water in one hand and a towel in the other, stepping into prickly bushes and searching in concentration for the best place to step next, avoiding a shaky stone or the odd spider web. And the heat and wind so hot and strong that it's almost deafening.

Then lying on an empty beach for the biggest part of the day, with two small flat stones on my eyes to avoid the terrible orange rays of the sun even with my eyelids closed. Until late in the afternoon, at the sunset, still hot, unable to resist the warm embrace of the sand and pick myself up, studying the miniscule, broken, worthless yet beautiful seashells, or following the desperate attempts of some insect to traverse one after the other the lilliputian sand dunes that lie between my face and the next rock, a couple of meters away.

And all of this almost aches. I just can't wait for summer to come. I know of course that when summer comes, it'll all be different. I mean sure, there will be days like this, but it won't be exactly the same.

Apparently I only really trully appreciate an experience when I am far away from it, in whichever sense. It's a pity... but hey, that's me I guess.

Monday, January 24, 2005

Songs I want

I am looking for these two songs. If anyone can help...

a) The song "Mon Repos" from the end of the film "The man without a past" by Kaurismaki.

"Muistatko Monrepos'n"
Performed by Annikki Tähti & Poutahaukat
(Annikki Tähti & Poutahaukat/Erik Lindström)
Lyrics: Aili Runne
Published by Sputnik Oy (2002)
(P) & © 2001 Sputnik Oy
Licensed courtesy of Sputnik Oy

Can't find it on SoulSeek...

b) (This is tough) A britpop kind of song (sounds like but I think is NOT James), a little in the style of "getting away with it", in which at some points the lyrics go "and all the people went aaaahhhh" (making a sound like a big crowd in a concert....)
Rings any bells?


Friday, January 21, 2005

The priest and the Mayor.

I was standing outside the New Psyhiko town hall (Dimarxeio) this morning, with Isabelle. We were waiting for someone.

At some point we see a young, nice-guy-type priest approaching the entrance of the town hall with a determined pace and look. Just before he entered, 5 meters from the door, he froze! He lowered his head, and looked at the ground, slowly caressing his beard. He stayed like that for about 5 minutes, not moving an inch. For a moment we thought he had a stroke or something...

Then all of a sudden he put up the determined, severe look he had before, and charged through the door of the Town Hall.

We discussed this event, and came to the conclusion that the following must have happened: The Mayor decided to do something terrible to his church (e.g. plant a cell phone antenna on top of the church, or some sexy underwear commercial right in front of the altar, or maybe demolish the entire church to build a 400 place open parking lot). So the priest came to complain! But before he entered, he decided to recit 10 "Pater Hmwn (our Father)" just to be on the safe side, and have the Lord on his side! Hence the pause before he entered!

We couldn't think of a better explanation!
PS. Now that I mentioned it, a friend of mine proposed the following busines venture which I must admit is a killer: Demolish 4 out of 5 churches in Athens, and build parking lots! There are so many churches that the good Christians won't mind, and if you undertake the initial expense and then split the revenues from the parking lots 50-50 with the Church, I'm sure they'll have no serious objections. And you increase the standard of living of the average good Christian much more than a visit to the Church does...

Thursday, January 20, 2005


I finally took the time to set up my little portfolio on line.

Lord, I'm Cured!!!

I've gotta tell you, I was almost losing it... and then a miracle happened:

Comments! Allelujah!

I feel like a re-born christian, the kind you see in U.S. Tele-Evangelist shows with the bold writing at the bottom of the screen "for your donation please call 1-800-pay-me-now-or-burn-in-hell-may-sweet-jesus-rest-your-soul -- Visa, Access, AmEx all accepted".

I feel like I was blind and now I can see...

Like I was deaf and now I can hear...

Like I was bald and now I have hair...

Like I was fat and now I am not as fat as before, but still not extremely thin either (I just had a couple of kebabs from Savvas/Thanassis down at Monastiraki square so I cannot really feel too thin). Anyway, I am digressing...

I gotta tell you, dudes, you made my day, thanks. I'll keep posting stuff, and I'll see if I can get a counter installed...

May the force be with you.
Live long and prosper.

Modern Greek Culture

Titlos: "Me apallotriwses"
Tragoudi: Ntaizh Ntoukouna (den eimai sigouros pou paei o tonos)
Stoixoi: Dystyxws agnwstos o poihths (as poume "dhmotiko"...)

Mwro mou me apogeiwses
kai ystera me prosgeiwses
me apallotriiiiiiiiwses
mazi mou oti ki an eniwses
to thusiiiiiiiiiaaasees

Me extises (!) me sobatises (!!!)
kai twra me gkremizeis
kai me ta mpaza mou allou
lakoubes tha gemizeis (dis)

NOTE: Eat your heart out, Stephen Crane (see "Pursuing" post)

Wednesday, January 19, 2005


A blog condition that arises when after almost a month of posting the author still has not received any comments. It gets him thinking that maybe he is the only one reading the stuff he writes, and considering the possibility of giving up this entire blog business.

It usually exhibits itself through a semi-desperate post/call for attention (such as this).

Known cures include comments posted to at least one of the posts (comments posted by the author to his own posts do not count).

Monday, January 17, 2005


"You know, I rather like this God fellow. Very theatrical, you know. A pestilence here, a plague there. Omnipotence ... gotta get me some of that."
Stewie Griffin

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Clearly an improved new version...

Top: Me 34 years ago.
Bottom: My little monster 34 days ago.


I'll jot this down before I forget it, I heard it some place, it's a poem by Stephen Crane (1905).

I saw a man pursuing the horizon.
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man
"It is futile", I said, " you can never -"
"You lie", he cried, and ran on.

Friday, January 14, 2005

Stopping time

So I went to IKEA the other day to buy some stuff I needed, and I came across a relatively decent clock. The type you hang on the wall. I didn't need a clock, but it was only 2 Euros, so I said what the hell... I got it.

I came home, and realized that of course I needed a battery. So I went out again to buy a battery. Then I thought about where to put it, I found a spot and drew a nail into the wall (I hate doing this, but still...). So I thought I was done with the clock project.

Then at night I woke up by a strange periodic sound that I had never heard before in my house. You guessed it, it was the bloody IKEA watch, ticking away the seconds louder than freaking Big Ben. I closed the door... nothing. I took it off the wall and placed in the drawer under a pile of socks, still nothing. You could hear it across the entire house. TICK-bloody-TOCK over and over again!! Then I tried to remove the battery, but it was totally stuck. I got a screwdriver and pulled it out, then hid the clock somewhere, saved the battery and went to sleep again.

At the place of the clock I hanged a thermometer I had lying around the house. I probably bought it some years back at some other place for the simple reason it was extremely cheap. It makes no sound whatsoever, however the room temperature is of no particular interest to me.

Next time I go to IKEA I'll try to remember the title of my blog...

Sunday, January 09, 2005


Ton perasmeno xeimwna perasame arketa Savvatokyriaka mazi me thn Isabelle sto Sounio. Merikes fores katevainan kai kapoioi filoi, tis perissoteres omws oxi. Ta xeimwniatika Savvatovrada sto Sounio exoun kati idiaitero... einai opwsdipote monaxika, an den exeis parea, alla h omorfia tou topou se voithaei na mhn to skeftesai. Telos pantwn, ektos apo kapoia tainia, kanena epitrapezio paixnidi, h kapoia voltoula sthn paralia prin vradyasei, oi epiloges einai periorismenes.

Apofasisame loipon mia fora me thn Isabelle (kai apo tote sxedon kathe Savvato pou eimaste monoi katw), kai anti na mageirepsoume kati sto spiti, opws synithizame, phgame kai fagame sthn kontinh taverna "H Artemis". Ta savvatokyriaka tou kalokairiou me dyskolia vriskeis trapezi na katseis, alla twra vevaia eimastan sxedon monoi. To faghto arketa kalo, to krasi tous mallon metrio, alla ypoferto. H diakosmhsh aplh, kapoies prospatheis tou magazatora na dwsoun ena idiaitero xrwma mallon apotyxhmenes. Synolika mia aplh, metria pros kalh exohikh taverna.

Kathomastan, paraggelname synithws sxedon ta idia (mia epilogh apo diafora vrasta xorta, patzaria, kolokythakia, mprokolo, kapoio souvlaki apo kotopoulo h kati tetoio, ligo krasaki...), milagame, pernage h wra... Syxna teleiwname to fai nwris, kai mhn exontas kati kalytero na kanoume, afou eixame zitisei to logariasmo kai plirwsei, kathomaste sto trapezi akoma mish writsa, legontas ki alla pragmatakia, h apla afhrhmenoi, hsyxoi, skeptikoi, h paizontas me tis odontoglyfides kai to xartino trapezomantilo... Kammia fora eixe kai anamenh thleorash kai xazevame afhrhmena gia ligh wra oti epaize, synithws thn athlitikh episkophsh ths hmeras (pou den endiaferei sto elaxisto kanenan apo tous dyo mas), eidhseis, h kammia tainia...

Meta pisw sto spiti...

Aytes loipon oi aples, xwris exarseis, xwris tipota pou na mporeis na diigitheis thn allh mera, sabbatiatikes exodoi sthn Artemi gia vradyno fai, htan telika apo ta pragmata pou simadepsan to persino mou xeimwna. Pragmatika agaphsa thn aplothta aytwn twn ligwn wrwn.

Exei kati pou me agaliazei h synaisthisi oti den kanw kati idiaitero, den vriskomai se kapoio exairetiko meros, den zw kapoia simantikh empeiria. Oti den prokeitai tin epomenh mera na to dihgoumai se kapoion me enthousiasmo, h na sygkrinw tis empeiries mou me aytes allwn. Apla trww kai pinw, arketa kala, kai me ligh kalh parea...

Friday, January 07, 2005

Identity crisis

Genika eixa panta provlhma me ta paidia. Gia ta mwra den to syzhtaw, den hxera pws na ta piasw, apo pou na ta krathsw, otan kapoios syggenhs mou systhne gia prwth fora to neo melos ths oikogeneias tou legontas mou "thes na ton/thn krathseis ligo?" ton koitaza me tromo kai ekana amesws 3 vhmata pisw tentonontas ta xeria mou psila se apognwsh. Gia ta megalytera, peropou ta idia. Otan se kapoia Kyriakatikh exormhsh se exohikh taverna tyxaine kapoio xemparko paidaki apo allo trapezi na erthei dipla mou kai na me koitaei me aporia, synithws h pio tryferh mou antidrash tha itan na tou petaxw mia thganhth patata, opws tha ekana gia ena skylo h mia gata. Parenthetika na anaferw oti me tous skylous kai tis gates exw tis pio aristes sxeseis, panta ta phgainame mia xara...

Den xerw ti einai ayto pou panta me fovize me ta mwra kai ta mikra paidia. Entaxei, se kapoio epipedo h eythynh, o fovos oti isws kati den kanw kala, mou pesoun apo ta xeria, ta ponesw, valoun ta klamata apo dikia mou ypaitiothta klp klp.
Epishs panta me tromazei h pepoithisi oti mprosta se ena mikro paidi den mporeis na kryfteis. Oi prokataskevasmens koinwnikes mas symperifores den pianoun. Pote den mporeis, gia paradeigma, na teleiwseis mia kouventa me ena paidi legontas "ta leme...". Giati einai psema, kai to xereis, kai to xerei, kai den prokeitai na perasei. Ti paei na pei "ta leme"? Apolytws tipota. Sthn kalyterh periptwsh paei na pei "isws na ta xanapoume kapoia stigmh", synithws "den exw idiaiterh orexh na ta xanapoume, alla mporei kai na tyxei", kai spaniws "siga mhn ta xanapoume". Opote prepei na vreis kati na peis pou na vgazei nohma kai na to ennoeis. Pragma arketa dyskolo merikes fores.

Telos pantwn, gia na mhn polylogw, ta paidia htan panta ena mysthrio gia 'mena. Twra exw ki egw ena diko mou. Enw kapoia apo ta parapanw den exoun allaxei, kapoia exoun. Gia paradeigma, den fovamai na ton krataw. Isa isa pou mou aresei. Gia thn akriveia ama ton parw aggalia kai apokoimithei, dyskolevomai na ton valw katw. Oi filoi mou mou lene oti den kanw kala, giati tha synithisei kai tha thelei panta agkalies kai nanourismata gia na apokoimithei. Gia thn wra den me endiaferei katholou....

Exakolouthw na fovamai ti tha skeftei gia 'mena, pws tha tou fanw, an tha tou kanw kalh h kakh entypwsh, poso eykola tha xeskepasei tis xiliades elattwmata kai adynamies mou. Epishs me provlimatizei an tha kataferw na ta vgalw pera me to dyskolo ergo na ton kanw ayto pou thelei na ginei. Kai prin apo ayto, na ton voithisw na vrei ti thelei na ginei. Kai prin apo ayto, na ton voithisw na megalwsei, na vlepei ta pragmata opws thelei na ta vlepei, na ton mathw na mathainei. Einai megalh proklhsh, h megalyterh kai h pio endiaferousa.

Mexri twra ta pame kala. Exw mathei ti shmainei to kathe klamma tou (sxedon), ki aytos exei mathei na koitaei kai na kanei mikres kinhseis. Exei anaptyxei idiaiterh sympatheia gia mia melissoula kai ena kouneli, alla apolambanw ki egw merika platia xamogela kathe toso. H axia tous aperigrapth.

En tw metaxy thelw na ton mathw ta panta gia th mousikh pou mou aresei, na ton prokalesw na skeftetai kritika, na axiologei, na filtrarei, na antlei thn ousia kai na petaei ta axrhsta. Na anaptyxei mia aisthitikh apopsh pou na symperilambanei ta panta, apo thn texnh mexri tous anthrwpous kai tis symperifores tous. Na aporripsei ta pragmata pou den exoun axia, alla me tous anthrwpous na einai ypomonetikos kai na krataei oti axizei xwris na aporriptei to synolo. Na einai taytoxrona apolytos kai diallaktikos. Na paizei stis klimakes tou gkri xwris na xanei thn aisthisi tou asprou kai tou mavrou.

Telos pantwn, xiliades tetoia pragmata, pou egw me dyskolia ta vgazw pera. Kai ola ayta me th megisth prosoxh na mhn tou epivallw th dikia mou optikh gwnia, tis dikes mou pepoithiseis.

All in all, einai ena project toso wraio, pou otidhpote allo den mporei na piasei topo mporsta tou. Mexri twra, to synistw anepifyllakta. Eimaste stis 67 meres, kai proxwrame akathektoi!

Ain't I the coolest little journalist...

Well, now that I have all the infrastructure set up, and I am ready to start spreading words of wisdom or coolness throughout the cyberworld, I find absolutely nothing worth putting out there whatsoever. I think that my inhibition stems from a sort of "audience-ignorance writer's-block". The things is that I don't really know who would stop to read this stuff, so I can't figure out what I should be posting.

I'll leave it at that for now, and we'll see, perhaps I'll get my inspiration later on. It's not like I'm renting this space by the hour or something...

Damn, this is weird, it's like talking to myself. Am I self-conscious or what?

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Franks Wild Years

Well, this being my first post and all one can't have too high hopes. I started this blog thingy mainly out of admiration (jealousy?) for my friend YK's wonderfully interesting little shots of happiness. Now I just have to find stuff to fill this blank/black page with.

I'll start with a couple of quotes from Tom Wait's interview to Rip Rense from the Franks Wild Years "Operachi Romantico" programme, that my dear friend Christina gave me the other day. I guess this is as good a start as any...

-Rense: I've just listened to the record for a second time -
-Waits: Well, it takes a few times to hear it...
-Rense: That's been true with your more recent works, I think.
-Waits: Yeah, I know. It takes a while. You have to let it chase you around...


- Waits: I dressed each song up in different clothes for the album, almost like you would with actors. To 'transplant' the feel of the stage into the songs.

OK, that's enough for now. I'll get back to this when I'll have something more interesting and inspired to contribute. The point was to get this started...