A kind of a "dangerous supplement", marked, scarred on a body, post-orgasmically, always, already in anticipation of (a) crisis OR for a desert avec 'agape'. Mindb(l)ogg(l)ing Noise. "Avalanche, would you share my last pursuit?" (Baudelaire)

Sunday, October 31, 2004

af'eterou'ierosi/e je si

gia: 'To parelthon eine to paron tis mnimis'

This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper

vges kai litrwsou/ na mia gelia prostaxtiki/
sto Asinexo
sto ipogeio tis glwssas i laleousa mavri aithali.
...

and live the space of a door
that open and shuts

monos me tous monous- kiniromai stin apousia mas
san ta moutra sou alla san na to ixeres (gia) panta
ston kolo tous repani,
anemos stis vrakes mas ke lexeis sta xartia mas
(menei o galazofwtos mistikismos tis texnologias)
exit with a smile upon your face

Ki an tosa hronia perpatisame mazi / Ton teleftaio dromo tha ton kanw monos

I know this feeling - to +aisthima. Gyrizw allwste ta bar, den m' afinei na koimithw o nick cave, ta krina, i kinisi sou entos mou. I have caused it and more often, I have received it. Again, and again, and again. Ki omws liga pramata mporw na grapsw gia touto. Mono gia mena liga. Poia diladi i axia tis epikyrosis otan to prwi to sverko mou krywnei? O kafes giati na mila monos kai na min ton kalyptei to fili? Pros ti - afou anisiha dianyeis milia- i afxomiewsi ton kradasmon? Tha mou peis ti to afises, se eihe proeisopoiisi. Den ftes esy glykia mou. Aghape mou - kai eihe hronia na akousw tin lexi, perissotera akoma na tin proferw stous dromous. Hwris na afinw kena. Pafseis. Distagmoi. Just a minute. Den ftes esy - den milame edw gia fteximo. Kyriaki imera kai motto xana ergasia kai hara. Ha! Den ehw tin energeia na asholithw me tous typous. Oute me tin graphe. Hreiazome apot o prwi na milisw se kapoion. Na deixw ta dakrya mou se kapoion pou tha hamogela, kai etsi na ta hasw. Afinwntas ne hythei to spasimo, to thravsma - to mono thravsma pou misw, to thravsma tis aghapis. Thymame mia nyhta pou 'hes pei...kai pote den thelisa na se pistepsw. Se polemisa 2 hronia, epesa, me sikwses, kai na me xana. Ma hanw pia tin pisti, tin elpida. Prwi. [Den eimai methysemnos.] Anakalw stin mnimi ta kallesmata, to gegonos diladi tis anagnwrisis mesw tis ana/gnwsis tou thoryvou, tis auras tou pou dia. Pou dinei. Pou mou dia kai mou dinei, thee mou, oti apemeine ap' tin eftyhia. Mohtho kai syntrivi. Epistrefomena poiimata. Anases pou zitoun apozimiwsi. Hamogelw me sfiximo dimosia kai oiko/geniakos anagnwrizomai. Hwris na zw. You want to be let in? Where? Do you know waht it means cause pain? Not just receive it - cause it. And to none other than you, yourself. You say, ppl, I am too nice. Not least because I am a defeated man. Apaisiodoxia. Diladi kakis aisthitikis gnwmi. Mporw panta na fevgw ap' tin pisw porta ton lexewn. Metaxy twn matiwn kai tis pisw portas omws kaneis den xerei ti yparhei. Mallon xerw - oti edw ftynw- to ihnos tis katastrofis pou se epistrefei mia zwi orizwntiws na ygaineis ta magoula sou. Kathe mia mia nea arche, kathe mia mia nea syntrivi. Ston kryo ilio tou londinou i epigramatiki prosfora. To parellthon einai to paron tis mnimis, kai gw ekana, i have been, always already, a mnemosyn/e|o. Kai epeidi eheis mathei, pikra, ton dromo, twra pia, kai i hronikotita den paizei ligostoi mou filoi rolo oso ki an einai i aitiotita, mporeis, mporw na ton kanw monos. Tha prospathisw. I fwni edw telegraphika [END]

paei

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Te Lefkosia

Tha thela na 'moun emvatirio pou paei pera dwthe synodeia tou demarchou kai tou kourasmenou dexiou psalti.
Tha thela na 'moun pisw meria vasanismenou eikonismatos.
Tha thela na 'moun blister ston Stavro tis Psokas.
Christougeniatiko stolidi ton Oktwvri.
Vregmeni simaia ethnikis epeteiou.
You know all the thinks you 've seen before or they 've told you about but
still
when they come around you are
suprised basicaly
I wanted to be with u 2nite
aghape mou: A giving which gives only its gift, but in the giving holds itself back and withdraws, such a giving we call a sending... [1]





[1]Martin Heidegger, if it's of any importance.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

to those about to sink into the plate of long walks in the morning rain or take another step into the lake where the lady of sorrows or her solitudes

Is this going somewhere?
Into the garden.
Into the backyard.
We're walking down the driveway.
Are we moving towards....
We're in the backyard.
...some transcendental moment?
It's almost light. That's right. That's it.
Are we moving towards some transcendental moment?
That's right. That's it.
Do you think you'll be able to pull it off?


and on top,
in between,
and bemyth,
where the ear slips into
thinking you were
here
where the eye drifts from
the obituary column

Cause he's high on potato and tulip wine fermented in the muddy rain of course a drunken wail, a drunken train blew through the birdless trees oh, you're alone alright, you're alone alright how did I know? How did I know? Don't go into that barn, yeah I said, don't go into that barn, yeah
for things (not) already (not) mentioned:

-que voulez-vous?
-I beg your pardon?
-que voulez-vous?
-Ah que voulez-vous. Exactly.

la parole volee- speech is always stolen, always stolen because always open, we: potential(ly) chaotic, organic, eventual - always in-dividual en-divided - beings (shift + B) for Beings.
kipros nisos methis, alexandra oi radiohead pezoun to creep live (cf. November 27th 2003, Earls Court, London) je kathw to pezoun pisw ana-grafei 'FOREVER' je meta ksana sto telos tis sinavlias ks-ana-grafei to.
beckett, schlegel, fichte, schleirmacher (jester), t.s. t.s. t.s. ennen gia lloou mas -
dem+al en-joy (new) division

Monday, October 25, 2004

di/agwnisnmos

Ki an kratw tin tequila sto poukamiso kai to fili, fevgalaio, sto stoma, me tin epikeimeni afxisi tis periferias kai to kathiorismeno txt stis files-voithous, hwris psarosoupa, kia na s' agapw ki an se latrevw allo toso, mana mou to stithos mou ponei, kai den ftanei i kanella, oute ki o pimp, akata/hnwta, dioti everyman evryway, kai egw something something man something something woman. Not at all a prince am. Probably he can have: oh! fuck(it).
njoy.-i provide sub
pli
(e)s
.

who's fastest

o eek a mouse jai i astinomia pasin telia mazi. idika meta 90 lires pota. 90? skata. 140? o panos en mas lalei epidi lipate mas.
o kontos en emphanistiken popse. ahh lathos mou, emphanistiken alla efien gliora o malakas, meta pou mia stella. distixos, en ton misw, jai panta enna perimenw ton godot (sans dj, con dj, starchithkia mou pleon). ta ipoonoumena sti methisi, i kouventes tis methisis, ta traouthkia tis methisis, en panta T (not F). o york arniete na traouthisi to creep se sinavlia, jai gw skeftome ton conrad, mistah kurtz, he dead, opws ton eliot, we are the hollow men and the middle word of life is Kipling's if. you dont believe it? i have raised my middle finger three times tonight, jai pale rwtw, 'nobody'? kanenas, opos panta opos panta, opos kati mavroaspres arkoudes stin kina (ABC, as easy as..) jai na mou lalei oi oi en malakies pou laleis otan girw mou o kosmos dixnei mou tin alithkia (T [no tarts, just T's]). anesiodoksia laloun mou merikoi. to london, to oxford, to new york fucking new york, kai to new haven. me 4 slices portokali (ah nai jai tequila, alla eteliwsamen tin jose cuevo - oi omws tin black bush, an jai to black forest efaen to kapios pou en trwei shokolates) psefto ivrame ta oneira jai tin alithkia. tin aisiodoksia? alli fora..

oneira glyka. nai nai kserw to. enikises. alla perimenw to venison (dried and cured) prin sou agorasw to sfinaki... dimitraki..

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Fool:Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.

La la laa la la-la-la-laaa
La la laa la la-la-la-laaa
(beebeebim, beebeebim, beebeebim, beebeebim)

[someone else will clean it up
someone always does]

pale mesimeri, jai pale xtipa to tilefono. "apla epiasa epidiiii.."
oi erwtevmenoi gattoi ourliazoun me ton xotza.

wste medium re christo. E.. epomeni erwtisi, areskou sou ta arkoudakia?


Monday, October 18, 2004

sastera je girasin

We could navigate our position by the stars
But they’ve taken out the stars
The stars have all gone
I’m glad you’ve come along
We could comprehend our condition by the moon
But they’ve ordered the moon not to shine
Still, I’m glad you’ve come along

nick cave and seferis in translation, Jena ab-solute: orpheus and evridice -
skoteiniastika ki oute pou mporesa
n'arthwsw kali-mou leipeis-nixta

e re alexandra kserw gw? ime tipote me(n)dium?

"It's only fools and charlatans who know everything and understand everything"

"When someone spends the fewest number of motions on a given action, that is grace"
In between the acts, we will be returning to Tom Waits in the morning -since you have denied your kisses to me, and I talk in strange languages of koans, off remembered words: catafalque of Korsakoff, and others I haven't kept (am) note- to another pair of eyes who says 'I'm in you', me fresko kapno to apomesimero kai pezodromio stis esso fternes, we will, yes we will, be contemplating the smile of an Invitation to the Blues (unmarked / non-named). And yet, yes, again, we recognise -I recognise- the consuming 'little smell of brandy', which, under the eucalyptus was called [elle]: "Either it is a remnant of something 'degenerating', something which was once immense, or it is a particle of what will in the future develop into something immense, but at the present it is unsatisfying, it gives much less than one expects"
"Disatisfaction with oneself is the fundamental quality of every true talent"

What could have been read while waiting, in a car, let's say, outside a bakery. Enan Fournon.

10 - re/member

To ombion, to caring, to 2or3 things

2xLeffe Brunes
3xMaredsus 10
12xTequila shots with orange and cinnamon
4xBlack Bush with two ice-cubes
1xCarlsberg
1xHoegaarden
1xSol
1xPilsner
2xalcoholic milko/toffee cream [em, am, sorry!]
2xBellybusters
+
Water -lots of it!
Gauloises Brunes Blanc - pronounced wright!
Old Holborn Yellow
Davidoff Danish Mixture
Families, friends, flirts, lovers, livers, lives, poetry, pregnancy, passion, mags, music, (wo)men
!

Sunday, October 17, 2004

dive off Cave into Pinter? mborei. crossing these fingers.
so at our semi-anonymic semi-eponymic hangout we find ourselves strangely paranoid but always always intuitive and post-chromatic.

The English are so nice
so awfully nice
they're the nicest people in the world.

And what's more, they're nice about being nice
about your being nice as well!
If you're not nice, they soon make you feel it.

Americans and French and Germans and so on
they're all very well
but they're not really nice, you know.
They're not nice in our sense of the word, are they now?

That's why one doesn't have to take them seriously,
We must be nice to them, of course,
of course, naturally.
But it doesn't really matter what you say to them,
they don't really understand -
you can say anything to them:
be nice, you know, just nice -
but you must never take them seriously, they wouldn't understand,
just be nice, you know! Oh, fairly nice,
not too nice of course, they take advantage -
but nice enough, just nice enough
to let them feel they're not quite as nice as they might be.

D.H. Lawrence

NB \Nice\, a. [Compar. Nicer; superl. Nicest.] [OE., foolish, fr. OF. nice ignorant, fool, fr. L. nescius ignorant; ne not + scius knowing, scire to know. perhaps influenced by E. nesh delicate, soft. See No, and Science.] 1. Foolish; silly; simple; ignorant; also, weak; effeminate. [Obs.] --Gower.

re christo, enta size fanella foris?

-mia monadiki typissa

Present

Infected by the air whereon they ride with bleeding necks kai tremamena here, with air, beats, oranges and cinnamon, prwta pojei, meta poda, wishing for lines, for paragraphs, for books, male and/or female, even now within their homecoming, within the paranoia that the social feeds, confused sexes, going backwards to go [w]here, because things do end up shit yet not always in-between, or on, the sheets, and we know that, yes I know that, with a wish, as if, gamwto shisto mou!, and to say we do not drink, we do, we do, and sometimes we even look at the bright side of life, albeit through the backroom bar, and still, still, via an empty glass, imagery for words and words for the imagery of our skull's guts, our chest's logic, us, non-focused, who like people too much, My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight and people like us too much, while they game plays and leave us at the station, with famous raincoats and gifts as books, The flighty purpose never is o'ertook / Unless the deed go with it.
Simera exanakopika aristera, xanalerwsa to lefko fanellaki aristera, kai epimenw na psahnw to stripsimo aristera, pou en ixerw oute gw, and untill what always already, inheriting, us, in the absence of friends, the custom, remains unfinished, never comes, in pub. houses nevertheless, alli mia fora, once more, patience. Ypo/Menw And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

When shall we [three] meet again? / In thunder, lighting or in rain? // When the hurly-burly's done, / When the battle's lost and won.

In that order,

Saturday, October 16, 2004

Gin and Perrier and the ambiguity of a Tom Waits line

Or of wanting it? There would then be cruelty without anyone having been cruel. No crime, no possible incrimination or recrimination, no judgement, no right. Cruelty there is. Cruelty there will have been, before any personal figure, before "cruel" will have become an attribute, still less anyone's fault.
Without allibi? No "crime wihout a suspision of cruelty", really?
[B]etween, on the one hand, the murder that consists in killing the other, in him-or herself or in oneself, and, on the other hand, what is commonly called suicide, or the crime against oneself.
- Am I somehow to blame for this impossibility (...)?
- No, of course not, it's in the language. You inherit it.
- Yes I am, on the contrary; look what I am doing with this inheritance. I'm betraying the truth.
- Is the allibi still avoidable? Is it not already too late? [1]

Shall I, am, again?
Two death - and to stop loving and being lovable,
That is the real death, The other is little beside it.
[2]

[1] J. Derrida, 'Psychoanalysis Searches'
[2] Ezra Pound 'Impressions of Francois-Marie Arouet (De Voltaire)'

not quite an elegy, but you're not dead yet

always post-pitta, the-day-after, early hours of the am (and by early i mean on a scale of 1 to 11) the phones ring and the hangover doesn't know which dem to curse first.

but the banamanas, blue frappes and "walking a lot as planned" (NB parking [w]here?) makes floundering in confusions and enikseros, enkatalavos not quite as bad. some people hop bars, some people hop countries, others hop hospitals trying to find cheesy people in their pockets. the rest of us are left in the middle [of the street], disorientated by the bright lights saying only i need to go home .

"men thoris tous kypreous, men tous thoris" "pou en to ttrrolleeii?" jai eksigate mou re intalos antexeste tous egglezous with their "do you have any MEAT?", valentines celebrations, Mister and Missus, in India we covered ourselves in vix, put on the humidifier, drank tea and didn't give a toss about the 50 degree celsius weather, what ho! the natives are a little slow, but well meaning, god bless the queen and a jolly good show, turning lobster red in the saintly napa sun.
(E- almost as bad as wearing socks with your birks).

mass of christ in paris, ombion party number 3?

Love, love, love,
Love, love, love,
Love, love, love,
Dooby dooby doo,
All you need is love,
Dooby dooby doo,
All you need is love, love
Or, failing that, alcohol.

Variation on a Lennon and McCartney Song, by none other, than Wendy Cope.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

Editions Nocturnes / My Turn

Do not move
Let the wind speak
that is Paradise
(...)
Let those I love try to forgive
what I have made


A good meal can somewhat repair / the eatings of slight love am, idi, already, panta, always, stin veranda prin enw twra, meta-derridiana And as usual feel rather sad(if/an) stuck in the middle with you kali mou fili, who "is on my side of the argument" enw egw tin vlepw kathe toso, al poco giorno / ed al gran cerchio d' ombraI think of all that has been said / About this faint desire ki akoume black rider kai den thymomaste an telika aftoktonisame ekeini tin mera, oute egw, oute afti, oute ekini tin mera, when they fuck you up - enw pas akoma kai trws mazi tous - and they break you and you break up, you smash your smashed mashed up self, only to iron it later, to re-member it Or mend our broken halves and promise that you will change, turn unforgetable since You are the author not the actor, at least that's how it cm, remembering also her who was giving me head on the unmade bed after she stood in my way, and even without bananas, or a poet, even though our rescue remedy, to comfort and reasure, is worth more Pound(s), parapanw TSElinia, she said, over tea and a flame box of matches, before she called, she spoke rather of Faith, Pistis-Elpis-Agapi, faith 'Nothing, like something, happens anywhere'
that things will work out in the end ...only see, through stailing tears / A quickly-spawning doubts
and of xmas lisbon and cats
in paris, with censorship
Clarity I have had sometimes,
I cannot make it flow thru.
A little light, like a rushlight
to lead back to splendour

of future dinner
parties and
deserts (and life saving honey)

Around, the night drops swiftly down / Its veils; does not condemn / O r praise the different actions done. / The hour that strikes across the town / Caresses all and injures none / As sleep approaches then

Psahnwntas na onomatisw to 'alt+Q', to 'backspace', meta-Freudiaka...

Oi nyhtes einai oi pio dyskoles. Me dyo stihous, ena tragoudi ki treia oneira ta kokkina vivlia mou anoigw gia na dw tin frasi "Oti ma dothike, kala mas dothike." kai na hamogelasw sto psema tou "My philosophy is: Every day is a different day.", na dakrysw sto "There is no solution because there is no problem" kai na piw stin ygeia (sou) pera apo asteria ki oroskopous, makria apo to new moon kai to skotadi, xyrizwntas to proswpo stin echo tou "En eshei tipote re!". Vromw whiskey, diadiktyaki thalpori kai erwtiki aporia - with a dash of ...anxiety.
Agwn-i-a; / gia mia alli fora.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Athela Epistrefw Me Mikran Kardian

A deviserof territories, languages, works, the deject neverstops demarcating his universe whise fluids confines- for they are constituted of a nonobject, the abject- constantly question his solidity and imoel him to start afresh. A tireless builder, the deject is in short a stray. H eis ona journey, during the night, the end of ehich keeps receding. He has a sense of the danger of the loss that the pseudo-object attracting him represents for him, but he cannot help taking the risk at the very moment he sets himself apart. And the more he strays, the more he is saved.
For it is out of such straying on excluded ground that he draws his jouisance. The abject from which he does not cease separating is for him, in short, a land of oblivion that is constantly remembered. Once upon blotted-out-time, the abject must have been a magnetized pole of covetousness. But the ashes of oblivio0n now serve as a screen and reflect aversion, repugnance. The clean and proper (in the sense of the incorporated and the incorporable) becomes filthy, the sought-after turns into the banished, fascination into shame. Then forgotten time crops up suddenly and condenses into a flash of lighting an operation that, if it were thought out, would involve bringing together the two opposite terms but, on account of that flash, is discharged like thunder. The time of abjection is double: a time of oblivion and thunder and the moment when revelation bursts forth.
Jouissance, in short. (...) One does not knowit, one does not desire it, one joys in it. Violently an dpainfully.

Julia Kristeva

But is naming sufficient? (...)
Lucy Irigaray

Everything is dissolving, babe, according to plan
The sky is on fire, the dead are helped across the land
I went to bed last night and my
moral code got jammed
(...)I wake with the sparrows and I hurry off to work
THe need for validation, babe, gone completely
berserk
//
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true
And I am breathless without you
//
With an army of tanks bursting from your chest
I wave my little white flag at thee
Can you see it, babe?
(...)
Oh baby, don't you go
All supernatural on me
Supernaturally


-and out

Monday, October 11, 2004

Efimereidisio Ypo/mnima

Aρχικό Adieu Jacques Derrida

"Il y va d’un certain pas" (Πηγαίνει μ’ ενα συγκεκριμένο βήμα / Συνεπάγεται ένα συγκεκριμένο ρυθμό – ένα συγκεκριμένο όχι) καθώς εν-e-γραφα "το σπέρμα, το νερό, το μελάνι, την μπογιά, την αρωματισμένη βαφή: το φάρμακον" απορέον απορίας σημειο, διαφωρετικά διασπαρμένο απο την μια γλώσσα στην άλλη, απο το ενα χείλι στο άλλο, υπερηχογράφημα ιχνογραφίας χωρίς άλλοθι, μα με πίστη στο εξαγριωμένο γράψιμο, επικύνδυνο συμπλήρωμα με αρχή το "Θα ήθελα να μάθω να ζω επιτέλους" μέσα σ’αυτήν την στοιχειολογία, που οφείλουμε –πια- σ’ αυτόν, την στοιχειολογία που "κανείς δεν μπορεί να ελέγξει το πήγαινε-έλα της αφου ξεκιινά με το να επιστρέφει", με το να δια-περνά, να περνά πέρα απο το πέρας – και όχι το τέλος- απο όπου θα ξανα-περάσουμε, ήδη πάντα, αλλ’εργικοί εγ-γονοί. Here, Chora Oκτώβρης 2004.

Δημήτρης Tαλίωτης – για το http://ombion.blogspot.com

Sunday, October 10, 2004

rest-in' a sign - jacques derrida

adieu, pou jiame, pou jinous pou en to perimeneis:

And Life, a little bald and gray,
Languid, fastidious, and bland,
Waits, hat and gloves in hand,
Punctilious of tie and suit
(Somewhat impatient of delay)
On the doorstep of the Absolute.
(T.S.Eliot, 'Spleen')

Solitude, reef, star
To whatever it was that was worth
Our sail's white solicitude.
(S. Mallarme, 'Salutation')

Je suis le ténébreux, -le veuf, -l'inconsolé,
Le prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie:
Ma seule étoile est morte, -et mon luth constellé
Porte le soleil noir de la Mélancolie.

...

Suis-je Amour ou Phébus, Lusignan ou Biron?
Mon front est rouge encor du baiser de la reine;
J'ai rêvé dans la grotte où nage la sirène...
Et j'ai deux fois vainqueur traversé l'Achéron,

Modulant tour à tour sur la lyre d'Orphée
Les soupirs de la sainte et les cris de la fée

(de Nerval, 'El Desdichado')

Κι ήρθε ή φωνή του γέρου, αύτή την ένιωσα
πέφτοντας στην καρδιά της μέρας
ήσυχη, σαν ακίνητη :

"Κι α, με δικάσετε να πιω φαρμάκι, ευχαριστώ το
το δίκιο σας θα 'ναι το δίκιο μου που να πηγαίνω
γυρίζοντας σε ξένους τόπους, ένα στρογγυλό
λιθάρι.

Το θάνατο τον προτιμώ
- ποιος πάει για το καλύτερο ο θεός το ξέρει".


Saturday, October 09, 2004

'

Il y va d’un certain pas enw m' afinan ta heilia tis kai apodwmontas to fili ene-grapha to aporeon kokinadi sto keimeno, yperihographima stin arche tis Leyfkis Mythologias. here

The work of mourning: Adieu, αντίο Jacques Derrida

'What happens when a great thinker becomes silent, one whom we knew living, whom we read and reread, and also heard, one from whom we were still awaiting a response, as if such a response would help us not only to think otherwise but also to read what we thought we had already read under his signature, a response diet held everything in reserve, and so much more than what we thought we had already recognised in that signature?' [1]

'Speaking is impossible, but so too would be silence or absence or a refusal to share one's sadness. Let me simply ask you to forgive me if today finds me with the strength for only a few simple words.' [2]

'I knew, in advance, that today I would be incapable of speaking, of finding the words, as it were.
Excuse me, therefore, if I read, and for reading not what I believe I must say (does one ever know what one must say in such a moment?), but simply enough to not let silence win out over everything else - just a few shreds of what I was able to tear away from the silence in the depths of which I would, like you, doubtlessly, have been tempted to close myself at this instant.
[...]
I haven't the heart either to recount anything or to pronounce a eulogy: there would be too much to say and this is not the moment. Our friends, your friends who are present here know why it is almost indecent to speak now - and to continue to direct our words to you. But silence is just as unbearable. I cannot stand the idea of silence, as if, within me, you too could not stand the idea.' [3]

'...to say adieu to him, to call him by his name, to call his name, his first name, such as he is called at the moment when, if he no longer responds, it is because he responds in us, from the bottom of our hearts, in us but before us, in us right before us - in calling us, in recalling to us...' [1]

[1] Jacques Derrida, 'Adieu: Emmanuel Levinas'
[2] Jacques Derrida, '(In Memorium) Paul De Man'
[3] Jacques Derrida, 'Text read at Louis Althusser's Funeral'

Thursday, October 07, 2004

o M kai o W spazoun idi anthi pagou stis rimagmenes grammes iperdomis --eterochronismena, teras katavroxthizei fthinoporines ptoseis, metefere tin [----] ousian ragismeni ek ton esso-- x cause the maid will take and
thrax a tax
be coming
soon
available in
wholes near you

hear him:he 'lone the moan

eto
siga siga
na ta metakomis
ete
[no new]

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Yposhesi Anglias

...on and on methodically till we fall plump into the grave and write finis on the tombstone above our heads (...) (o)ur simple duty is to state the facts as far as they are known, and so let the reader make of them what he (sic) may.
V. Woolf Orlando

Den einai to apwn koniak pou mas deinoun ta apogevmata. Den einai tin fwni sou, esena, ki esena, ki esena pou oi ihografimenes kassetes -mono- metaferoun. O kafes einai xenos, o kapnos xeros. Synagermoi ehoun kopasei kai tzamia pia den spane. I anifores den einai ekeines apo opou epistrefame piwmenoi. To kafsaerio -to kafsaerio!- hwris tin aigli tou Hal Hartley gemizei ta pnevmonia mas. O idrwtas pou akoma kaiei ta agrypna matia mas, den einai o idrwtas tis vrohis. Den einai kan o idrwtas tou ximeromatos. I myti den harizetai stin ygrasia, stin mouhla, stin kanela, stin petalouda kai sto xylo. Den pagidevoun ta dontia mas sardelles twn 16:30. To harti stin Hwra den ehei chora na drosisei tis mashales kai ta mpratsa mas. Strefw to vlema aristera: pio grigora apo oti to afti akouei, o ilios ehei hathei. Kai den se pernw tilefono. Menw me tin antistixi tis antihisis tou geliou sou, me to fwteino hamogelo sou. Apolamvanw tis prwtes syn-g-nefies.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

'bat yatez waz nooh straindzer to catz'

italia.

'i have never saught after things, only found them.'
- K said, drunk in an irish pub of Rapallo (looking for wb perhaps?)

epses ejimithika se enan parko opws tous astegous, to diabatirio mou to maksilari mou.
proxtes ekolimbisa stin thalassa twn pente topwn.
prin tris meres eperpatisa 5 xiliometra pou ena xwrko ws to allo.
prin tesseris meres etrwa sun dried tomatoes mesa se enan troxospito.
prin pente meres imoun pitta.
prin eksi meres eida enan pou tous pio agapimenous mou filous.
simera? enna kamw bagnio.

Monday, October 04, 2004

22:29

Teaandsoupand whiskey
some cheese
maybe - when am wait
ing for your nonapear
/gl/
ance i spend
shit lots
(al
though is it a waste) they woke me up this morning
practicaly though i was not asleep 06:00.
on(in)@ t
he we
b like we lear
ed to do. txts+emails+blogs(kali wra!)
re
turn
ing to the o
ther theirs and mine sp
aces i'm glad you stood in my way ma
mou peire hronia na katalavw
ki akoma to palevw to gamimeno kai lew psemata stin giagia mou
- the houses and the areas and the streets and the
bars (pubs they call them down
sarf- the hedonism of a far away wildrenss
found not anymore outside
/yes i know that/ thus splashed within with
go ahead pick a colour:The Uncertainty of the Poet
I am a poet.
I am very fond of bananas.
I am bananas.
I am very fond of a poet.
I am a poet of bananas.
I am very fond.
A fond poet of 'I am, I am'-
Very bananas.
Fond of 'Am I bananas?
Am I?'-a very poet.
Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond? Am I very?
Poet bananas! I am.
I am fond of a 'very.'
I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?

Wendy Cope
lalei jai i woolf allo to prasino sti fysi ki allo stin
poiesi
ki etsi anevenw lofous kia pernw sidirodromikes grammes kai kateveno stin plateia kai pernw to treno apo tin platforma 4 i tin platforma 1 kai to leoforeio 329 (spania)
afou
// fovame agapi mou akoma kai na to grapsw gia touto kai x
orki
zw to stis chorolexeis. Anti sta (here
comes again)
sta m /gl-ing:|| des telika to graphe
me to
ati()a sou.

Sunday, October 03, 2004

Upon a Stroll in London He Came Across the Lady of the Rain [w/ some Gymnopedies No. 1]

petaxe tes
valitses pan
ti enna ta kami. touta
τα ιμάτια
of his. rain
poor out his. shoe
my heart is in my shoe
I went and set the Thames on fire
lambron. pou ekapse
ta pothkia
she's laughing in her sleeve at me
I can feel it in my bone
pou estassan
of her. rain
all covered up my
glass. full of
pain
[Because I learned to be alone boys

And anywhere
I lay my head, boys
I will call my home.]




Akouw ekklisiastiki mousiki
Me mavrismena pothkia den ehw
Kanei strato kai plirwnw
full eisitirio. Ayta ws prologos tis nyhtas hwris barmen.
Enw esy xereis tin asfaleia pou sou prosferei i aypnia mou
/ i prosmoni // den akouw den akouw den akouw
(ehei synithistei to tris kai egw meta to hthesino
gyrevw ta conventions pou den tha m' akyrwsoun tin
Omorfia pou tha straggixei to myalo mou
)
oi dwrismenoi anikanoi na epistrepsoun sto thymitiko
stihoi
ta psila kai ta
iwta
me to fili kai tin paraxeni
yposhesi sto stoma

montaroun oroskopia.
Hreiazomai gia touto hreisimopoiw tis
metafraseis, tetoion october pou mou anoixes:
...
Kai sy eisoun haroumeni kai gelouses
Me ena gelio ohi toutou tou kosmou.

-Gia auto s'agapisa/ /ki as dikaiologise gia tin lipsi ek
fora sou kai pws pallia/-
Einai kala na pitsilizeis mes sto nero
Kai to gelio einai to telos olon twn pragmatwn.
Am ti vromwprwino!
Na agkistrwseis tin evaisthisia stin apotelesmatikotita;

'Dyskolo, poli dyskolo' (Martis, Holborn) hwris na tin rwtisw.

Friday, October 01, 2004

Freidag angst

And I have many fragments, less worth? Less worth?

In das bedhen. OuI. Pou allou durethring dis verklarte nacht, jai atona. 4509pavla98256pavla2. 1CD. A- Shoiros, Lountza, Tsamarela, tin freetag tous, while if we were Fightine or (again they man with the lonely arm could say) Againtine to carvouno tha dietiritoun treemerka. Isws, mes to anthos tou kafe. Re filouin mou xereis lia egglezika; Nai. Sioura xereis; Ti theleis re mastre; Ela na piasw mian kopelan jai na tis miliseis jai perimenw tin dame stin ekklisia. Afeeken don sexilon - hihihihihihih. Eshei mian jame sti gwnia. Ham. 678. Lernear. Wp!osscisite tou mouchohtari. Taxidiwtika Engrapha & Diefkolinseed. Ladwmena myrwmena. Kathe diadikasia rapsimatos, emperiehei mesa tin prosmoni, to if, tou asmatos. Asenjaiseriehtijion. Oi, oi, en alli touti - ela. T' onoma sou; Stavros. "Eh, Mr Stavros" (pause Yeh!) is waiting for you at the church." "No," irta -pou to haraman tou fou re archopelle / enw emeis epoienamen stegnoi! Ah!- perki evrw kammian kinezooan. Etsi, that's it, mellontike ethnosecretery: geo kai nomismatikographeki diaforopoisi tou epi plerwmis patta kai ung oliges voles, tou hatta. Ph d, em? "no church - olimpiakos!" E' ston olympiako mastre. Oooo - jai pou xerw gio pou olympiakon? Twra to arwma tou kourou jai tou blue johny to be palying hand prostibill the very lot we could not are feaghting -the previous freudi-oooooo!-karouzian mystake i am troubled if to change, that is give its pound back, But say I want to , say I take your whole bag of tricks, / Let in your quirks and tweeks, and say the thing's an art-form, / Your Sordello -"But Pound, and my Pound?"-, and that the modern world / [write this time!] Needs such a rag-bag to stuff all its thought in; / Memoari of BS Johnson Say that I dump my catch, shiny and silvery / As fresh sardines Fuck! Exihasa na paw sto rwssiko o salonikios gia ta psssssarouthkia tis mmmmpyras! flapping and slipping on the marginal cobbles? / (I stand before the booth, the speech; but the truth / Is inside the discourse- Regges Afka Faches Panjarka. -krasidem- this booth is full of the marrow of / wisdom.) / Give up th' intaglio method. Inc.-Inc.-Inc. the word.

A!popse th|elw/a na se dw - ma(l) de see vr-isk(i)oh. Bloggarw stin pyra ara me tin arrghautisy Have you acted in compliance with your desire? Pou tis kakes meres tis geiageia yet never know butter in converitation of leafing how does it feel to be all alone times and guardian and then and now 'E' like now the protan rush had to be rushing four the brain and the tang vie la sto mach. U remammber Mac, hey? a tichit could talk. Nicht! Conservatives and the radicalisation of the frog leap. A! Butt thyme the mixed site? TM the WC off the house and off the series. Entry point and at the entrance, passed by DCV their WC. Mam, okitchen okitchen!

Gesamtspielzeit: Jetzzeit

To live a thousand years in a wink. (...) Nor began nor ends anything

Etsi apla pro-logika para-loga, synithes en diastoli hordes, daktyla pou pliktrologoun tin dikaiologia tou soundtrack, matia pou kleinoun kai heili pou den tha enwthoun, pote xana, etsi, opws that's it, me pathitiko to kapnisma kai energo, pia, xana, to whiskey, stin siwpi tis skonis kai twn leromenwn astragalwn, me ta myala sta parka tou genari (christo, a.m., kosti: re/member) me to imerologioko fthinopwro na zitaei voitheies, ta idia intermezzo kai ta idia bar, savvatokyriako xereis poso se misisa - ohi etsi, ohi pia:

M' amour, m' amour
what do I love and
where are you?
That I lost my center
fighting the word.
The dreams clash and are shattered-
and that I tried to make a paradiso
terrestre.


'Ton teleftaio dromo tha ton kanw monos' - Ta oneira sygkrouontai / kai kommatiazontai- / ki egw prspathisa na plasw enan paradiso / terrestre.. Imeros anex-art-isias. Epi-strefw, bi-social agape mou, sto allothi tis pistis tis glwssas atona ma opws mystika kai isiha me to Manhattan poria stin kathisihastiki agkali sou. Enw dipla polousan pastourma.

Ena fantasma -indeed- planietai, planevwntas mas olous pou arnomaste na min pistepsoume stin nomismatiki axia tou Ezra=Fool who would set a term to love's madness (...) No, now while it may be, let not the fruit of life cease, panw ap tin ope tou Eu. Panw apo to Euros tou (h)ER...

Here-to sadated me hamogelo kai aporia Pentzikiki apo tin poli kai tin polli leilasia twn dromwn apantw I skoal to the eyes as grey-blown mere (...) Wining the ghosts of yester-year.

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