Sunday, January 12, 2014


When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

laissez faire

….while others follow’d Mysteries,
To which few Folks bind ’Prentices;
That want no Stock, but that of Brass,
And may set up without a Cross;
As Sharpers, Parasites, Pimps, Players,
Pick-pockets, Coiners, Quacks, South-sayers, 
]And all those, that in Enmity,
With downright Working, cunningly
Convert to their own Use the Labour
Of their good-natur’d heedless Neighbour.


the moral 
THEN leave Complaints: Fools only strive
To make a Great an Honest Hive
T’ enjoy the World’s Conveniencies,
Be fam’d in War, yet live in Ease,
Without great Vices, is a vain
Eutopiaseated in the Brain.
Fraud, Luxury and Pride must live,
While we the Benefits receive:
Hunger’s a dreadful Plague, no doubt,
Yet who digests or thrives without?
Do we not owe the Growth of Wine
To the dry shabby crooked Vine?
Which, while its Shoots neglected stood,
Chok’d other Plants, and ran to Wood;
But blest us with its noble Fruit,
As soon as it was ty’d and cut:

]So Vice is beneficial found,
When it’s by Justice lopt and bound;
Nay, where the People would be great,
As necessary to the State,
As Hunger is to make ’em eat.
Bare Virtue can’t make Nations live
In Splendor; they, that would revive
A Golden Age, must be as free,
For Acorns, as for Honesty.


Monday, January 6, 2014

’We have discovered happiness’ – say the last men, and blink thereby

...These three authors put the late modern subject on stage as a ‘porous’, that is precarious and problematic creature, with the phenomenon of depression at the centre of the portrayal. However, what in their interpretations stays underexposed is depression as experience, by which also the possibility of depressive passivity as a form of re-activity remains hidden in the dark. Though Dufour touches upon this possibility when he writes that the rise of the phenomenon of depression might be ‘an obvious sign of resistance of the subject to the economy of the generalised market’9, he leaves the option undiscussed. Rosa bestows upon the depressed person the status of ‘most sensitive seismograph of current and coming transformations’10, without coming to an understanding of this sensibility. And Ehrenberg’s analyses, finally, are in the end always focused on ‘a certain tonality of our collective psychology’11 and not on the response of the concrete individual to this ‘tonality’. Furthermore, it concerns a ‘tonality of loss’12, and so depression appears wholly as a token of deficiency, as ‘fatigue of being oneself’, ‘pathology of acting’, as ‘lack of project, lack of motivation, lack of communication’, in brief, as ‘lack of initiative’.13 Is there something hidden behind this deficiency? What causes someone to fail? In what way is this incapacity to act still a way of acting? Is there any defence or resistance in it? In order to take a first step in elucidating depression ‘from the inside’ the final part of this paper will be devoted to a phenomenological interpretation of this disorder: that of the Belgian psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Jacques Schotte. In his ‘pathoanalytical’ perspective depression occupies a central place. He calls the disorder ‘the most ubiquitously important one of the whole of psychiatry’.14 

9 Dufour 2007a : 325-326. Cf Dufour 2007b : 107, and 2011: 125, 279.
10 Rosa 2005: 390.
11 Ehrenberg 2010: 20.
12 Ehrenberg 2010: 309.

13 Ehrenberg 1998: 157, 251, 182.
14 Schotte 1989: 79. 


Sunday, April 14, 2013

Kipling's early impressions of the moving image

"Then the doors opened and the passengers came out and the porters got the luggage - just like life. Only - only when anyone came down too far towards us that was watchin', they walked right out o' the picture, so to speak . . . Quite slowly, from be'ind two porters - carryin' a little reticule an' lookin' from side to side - comes our Mrs Bathurst. There was no mistakin' the walk in a hundred thousand. She come forward - right forward - she looked out straight at us with the blindish look which Pritch alluded to. She walked on and on till she melted out of the picture - like - like a shadow jumping over a candle . . . " 

Friday, December 23, 2011


λλά δυστυχώς, δεν είχε ο ουρανίσκος σου, τη γεύση από μπονμπονιέρα
δεν ήταν τα λασπόνερα στην άκρη του δρόμου, το μάνα που με κέρναγες
δε φύτρωσαν στα βλέφαρα σου, αναριχώμενοι δυόσμοι

δεν προφέραν ποτέ τα χείλη μας ταυτόχρονα, σαν το βιολί και τη βιόλα, το κάλεσμα για σουσάμι και επειδή η λέξη που επίμονα προφέραν, όλες οι ίνες αυτού που τέλος πάντων είσαι εσύ, όλες οι λέξεις σωματοφύλακες, οι κέρβεροι της Λέξης δεν ήταν αυτή που φαντάστηκα,
ξέρεις αυτή που προέκυπτε από τις δύο πρώτες λέξεις της σελίδας 32, στα δύο πάνω-πάνω ράφια της βιβλιοθήκης στο σαλόνι, μετά

έστρεψα τον νού μου, αλλού, και αποφάσισα πως δεν θα είσαι εσύ, αυτός,
που θα μοιραζόμασταν μαζί, σκιές, μπουκιές, μαξιλαράκι και εν τέλει ανάσες

και αποφάσισα αυτό.

Sunday, December 4, 2011


walk in silence, don't walk away, in silence.
see the danger, always danger,
endless talking, life rebuilding,
don't walk away.

walk in silence, don't turn away, in silence.
your confusion,my illusion,
worn like a mask of self-hate, confronts and then dies. don't walk away.

people like you find it easy,
naked to see,
walking on air. hunting by the rivers,
through the streets, every corner abandoned too soon,
set down with due care. don't walk away, in silence,
don't walk away.

Monday, November 28, 2011

meta meta curiosity

But methinks we have been not a little inattentive to run over so many different parts of the human mind, and examine so many passions, without taking once into the consideration that love of truth, which was the first source of all our enquiries. Twill therefore be proper, before we leave this subject, to bestow a few reflections on that passion, and shew its origin in human nature. `Tis an affection of so peculiar a kind, that `twould have been impossible to have treated of it under any of those heads, which we have examin'd, without danger of obscurity and confusion....

...But tho' the exercise of genius be the principal source of that satisfaction we receive from the sciences, yet I doubt, if it be alone sufficient to give us any considerable enjoyment. The truth we discover must also be of some importance. Tis easy to multiply algebraical problems to infinity, nor is there any end in the discovery of the proportions of conic sections; tho' few mathematicians take any pleasure in these researches, but turn their thoughts to what is more useful and important. Now the question is, after what manner this utility and importance operate upon us? The difficulty on this head arises from hence, that many philosophers have consum'd their time, have destroy'd their health, and neglected their fortune, in the search of such truths, as they esteem'd important and useful to the world, tho' it appear'd from their whole conduct and behaviour, that they were not endow'd with any share of public spirit, nor had any concern for the interests of mankind. Were they convinc'd, that their discoveries were of no consequence, they wou'd entirely lose all relish for their studies, and that tho' the consequences be entirely indifferent to them; which seems to be a contradiction. (hume, treatise, book ii)

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Thursday, June 16, 2011

cognitive dissonance

were we to resurrect in perpetuity
would love outlast death ?

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Saturday, March 5, 2011


.Ούτε το σκισμένο δέρμα στη καρέκλα του συνοδηγού απο το κακοβαλμένο "μην καπνίζετε", ούτε οι ειδήμονες αθλητικολόγοι που αναρωτιούνται για ένα ακόμη πέναλτι. Ούτε το αρωματικό δενδράκι που κρέμεται από τον καθρέφτη, με το ματόχανδρο, και τον σταυρό. Ούτε οι κατάρες που ρίχνει στα αρνιά του, και στο αγροτικό του, και στο κέρατο του το τράγιο. Ούτε η στάχτη που ξαναμπήκε μέσα, και ήρθε στο πρόσωπο μου. Ούτε η άξαφνη, φάλτση απαλότητα στην φωνή, όταν είπα όχι ευχαριστώ, με μια κάποια ευγένεια. Ούτε τα πρεζόνια σαν χορευτές φαντάσματα. Ούτε από τη Μπενάκη. Ευχαριστώ.
Ούτε ο μπάτσος με το βλέμμα το γλαρό, στα δύο κορίτσια που ανηφορίζουν τη σκουφά. η γυναίκα που βγήκε για τσιγάρο, στο δρόμο από το νοσοκομείο. Ούτε τα φρύδια της, ούτε το χάσιμο της. Ούτε τα σκουπίδια, που πλησιάζουν τον πρώτο όροφο. Η σοβατισμένη αλλοδαπή σερβιτόρα που προσέχει τα ελληνικά της. Ούτε αυτός ο κατάπτυστος στο απέναντι μπαλκόνι που κάνει μπανιστήρι.

.Είναι κάτι ενοχλητικό. Τώρα που θα φτάσω. Κάνει κρύο έξω. Θα πρέπει να ψάξω ψιλά, να τα μετρήσει. Να ανταλλάξουμε αβρότητες. Ίσως μου πεί κάτι τελευταίο για τον άτιμο, που της τα φαγε. Και εγώ μετά θα πρέπει να σηκωθώ. Θα συγκεντρώσω την πραμάτεια μου. Θα βγώ απο δεξιά γλιστρώντας στο δέρμα. Θα κοιτάξω δεξιά μου, για κάποιο μηχανάκι ανυπόμονο. Θα ρίξω μια τελευταία ματιά μήπως που έπεσε το κινητό, ή χρήματα ή κάτι. θα κλείσω την πόρτα. Όχι χλιαρά γιατι θα τη θυμώσω, όχι δυνατά γιατί θα τη θυμώσω. Θα περάσω το δρόμο. Ίσως έχω ετοιμάσει ήδη το κλειδί για να μην χάσω χρόνο. Θα κοιτάξω για κάποιο απογευματινό γράμμα. ή λογαριασμό. Θα ανέβω τις σκάλες. Θα μπώ μέσα.

Monday, November 8, 2010


as in transit, i ve grown accustomed
and i am not bothered to utter the manner likewise again
and yet my tongue, audacious dares to entertain the notion again
and bored, and tired yet with hope
as if i 've never been here before, and yet, countless times i 've layed my eyes upon
such here

and i ve got the field, before me, with fruits ripe and sunbeams stretching along
but some obscure force, as ever, dragging me away, struggling to convince me that
down the depths of the paradigmatic there is bound to be some logical mistake
but logically, sliding down the depths of the paradigmatic, i returned exactly where i begun
on the verge of the field, before me, with fruits ripe and sunbeams stretching along

words with fewer letters, such as i, and, so, what, why, not, and air and signals that get through despite all the noise
you can call this the problem with these terms
but you have to remember that this is the problem
and you got be able to retell
plus there is all these commas, the fullstops, the dashes...all those punctuation marks that i have been using wrong.

i have but to marvel the consistency of the problem, and its ever imaginative way of it reasserting itself, until i am imaginative enough to call it something else, and it obeys me permanently. the more i write, the more it evades me. setting my course towards it, but it likewise.

so i am closing down. i am moving my voting rights to the centre of athens where i live, i will unsubscribe from the monocle, and honestly, i am not drinking another decaf
no, i m closing down, seriously
seeriously seriously
seriously y y y

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

new darwin inn

it is closing in.
it changes the colors of the walls.
it makes bones tilting inwards.
suddenly the dvd collection seems impossible burden.
the building structure the work of creatures of some superior order.
and then somebody says top chef will surge the ratings.
and not top physicist for instance or top philosopher even as comedy.
centauri proxima. yes. but till then its just europe.

timespace, and the f continuum. the f dimension
the f of aggression. the f the mother of traumas. the f of miracles.

Monday, October 4, 2010

زمان" זמן"

Saturday, September 25, 2010

lost trajectories

now if i turn my head, sideways, looking away, will you cease to be ?
are you really there, when i m not looking ?
are you here, take a t, or give
will you was, were you will
is this the thing. this the pillow case. the purple duvet cover. the antique bedside table.
that dream, the breath, those steps
the trivial, the burning,
the bloodcells. the words. the story of some past, yet to happen that lies ahead. give an a,
(or take)
here lies. and truths. and all in between. and those bursting out from the cracks, and right in

beyond the measured and the named, yet right within it. meas...uring,
is this a question that i care to answer
who is the murderer of cause. this a question. (which is a yes, or no, an one or a two, a right or a wrong,true and false)

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

the second law


traumagic experience

Sunday, September 19, 2010


Let's start with risk... we are all conscripts in one sense or another...for all of us, it is hard to break ranks, to incur the disapproval, the censure, the violence of an offended majority with a different idea of loyalty. We shelter under banner words like justice, peace and reconciliation that enroll us in new, if much smaller and relatively powerless, communities of the fall out of step with one's tribe; to step beyond one's tribe into a world that is larger mentally but smaller numerically--if alienation or dissidence is not your habitual or gratifying posture, this is a complex, difficult process. It is hard to defy the wisdom of the tribe, the wisdom that values the lives of members of the tribe above all others. It will always be unpopular--it will always be deemed unpatriotic--to say that the lives of the members of the other tribe are as valuable as one's own. It is easier to give one's allegiance to those we know, to those we see, to those with whom we are embedded, to those with whom we share--as we may--a community of fear...let’s not underestimate the retaliation that may be visited on those who dare to dissent from the brutalities and repressions thought justified by the fears of the majority...we are flesh. we can be punctured by a bayonet, torn apart by a suicide bomber...fear binds people together...and fear disperses them...courage inspires communities: the courage of an example for courage is as contagious as fear.... but courage, certain kinds of courage, can also isolate the brave.

The perennial destiny of principles: While everyone professes to have them, they are likely to be sacrificed when they become inconveniencing.

Generally a moral principle is something that puts one at variance with accepted practice. And that variance has consequences, sometimes unpleasant consequences, as the community takes its revenge on those who challenge its contradictions--who want a society actually to uphold the principles it professes to defend. 

The standard that a society should actually embody its own professed principles is a utopian one, in the sense that moral principles contradict the way things really are--and always will be. How things really are--and always will be--is neither all evil nor all good but deficient, inconsistent, inferior. Principles invite us to do something about the morass of contradictions in which we function morally. Principles invite us to clean up our act, to become intolerant of moral laxity and compromise and cowardice and the turning away from what is up-setting: that secret gnawing of the heart that tells us that what we are doing is not right, and so counsels us that we'd be better off just not thinking about it. 

Again: There is nothing inherently superior about resistance. All our claims for the righteousness of resistance rest on the rightness of the claim that the resisters are acting in the name of justice. And the justice of the cause does not depend on, and is not enhanced by, the virtue of those who make the assertion. It depends first and last on the truth of a description of a state of affairs that is, truly, unjust and unnecessary. 

Sunday, September 12, 2010

breakfast with friends

mell, parelth, and par

Friday, September 3, 2010

mirror amechania

The film as a mirror and, as a further consequence, the phenomenon of identification primarily inherent in feature films, condense to a type of essence of film’s potential. This film reports on cinema and the processes within it. In doing so, it doesn’t reveal any secrets, but instead, attempts to transfer – in the sense of seeing what we see – what we do in the cinema and what also can be relevant outside of film into a visually stimulating and captivating event.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

looking idly on the ceiling
don't you tell me now, you don't know the feeling

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


From where he was standing on the balcony, he could see them both. They couldn’t see each other. He could speak with the neighbour that had locked herself out on her own balcony, and was looking for a way to enter her house. He was talking to her, with sweet soothing words, as she was already getting scared. She was scared of heights, she was scared of the cold, she was scared of raindrops, she was scared she would have to stay out there until her husband returned. The reason she was locked outside? She thought she saw rat turds and she went out to investigate. He was telling her to remain calm, not to look downstairs and that he would call her husband or her mother. Meanwhile, something else was happening inside the room. The other one, standing on the bed, was lifting her blouse slowly, revealing her tummy button initially and then her breasts. Her eyes were inviting him girlishly, her body womanly. As the neighbour was continuing her agonizing exploratory dialogue, his replies began to falter, his responses becoming more general, as he clumsily tried to recapture her words. “We are going to be late for the concert…”she told him, stressing the -cert bit particularly, playfully hinting she was not at the least interested in the concert.

He placed the unused concert tickets inside the plastic box and then sealed it, leaving it on top of that last short side-table, left behind by the removal people.

He walked towards the balcony door, stepping on the wooden floor, leaving his echoing footprints on the dust that had previously been covered and had not been mopped since the bed first went into the room. His eyes turned to the wall on his right.

There was a blue paint mark at the height of a piece of furniture that used to be there from previous tenants. Konstantinos, the landlord, pointed that out the day he first showed the house to him. He didn’t mind it he said, he would paint the wall anyhow. Later he decided not to paint it, because he decided he liked its patina. Then he brought a poster to cover the mark. But he wanted to frame it first and then he decided that he would finally paint the wall. He had to abandon this plan as well, since he had already started planning his exit from the country and had decided he would leave this house.

He looked down. The poster was there next to the heater, wrapped in a nylon roll. He took it out with ceremonial tenderness and stretched it. It was an A3 poster, cream, full of words and doodles. When he bought it, he thought it was Peter Brook’s notes for his book, The Shifting Point, since the quote “Hold on tightly, let go lightly” was prominently written somewhere on it but it turned out they were simply the notes of some advertiser graphics designer in New York. He bought it as a gift to his son who was studying theatre studies who he was going to meet later that day.

He delayed arriving at the meeting point. The sky was all dull red. Desert dust had emigrated from Africa flooding the sky. He felt his eyes smart and dry and thought of them the same colour as the sky. A stench from a cat carcass or something, made an entrance to his nostrils. He looked alternately the soles of his shoes, and then the open litter bin before he entered the café, hoping to discover the dead animal and solve the mystery of the origin of the smell. His palms were equally red and swollen. He had an allergy to dust and his own sweat and he hadn’t relaxed for a single moment his grips of his motorcycle steering wheel driving there. All that was distracting him from his sincere decision to enter a dialogue as an active listener, to really hear his son out, to not reply hastily and unreflectively, to not reply at all if necessary. It was their first encounter after a long time. It felt such a success to convince him to see him. He had decided not to disappoint him again. How crucial a meeting that was? Crucial indeed. His son was already there, standing in a remote table at the back of the main hall. He could see him. A young waiter with a full body apron passed by in front of him jostling him annoyingly.

He raised his eyes again towards the blue mark, wrapped the poster up without looking at it and placed it at the corner of the empty room, touching on the floor leaning against the wall.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

mot juste

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

brocca della verita (0,1)

Thursday, June 10, 2010


Chapter one out of three (or four) went on looking at the back garden through those thick, pointed leaves a rain forest of ten metres by four a plastic shovel, a broken yellow toy track all her tools a proper excavation for her boyish short hair but she haven’t really got a proper map and her compass is a bit messed up and her ‘dinates, kind of less than half but something’s telling her, it can’t be that hard you are determined not to leave before you give earth her second skin and marvel ‘neath the surface the buried treasure ship with the nackles, and the fleeces and all the golden blood and the rude and vile one eyed men, with the strong arms the days ‘re passing, and they are getting shorter too and across the street other girls are laughing with their pretty unicorns and their clean summer shoes and that annoying and cheeky cousin of yours, with the cryptic clues there is still so much earth to remove logic says it is n ‘t there, never was, it cannot be and your shovel is half broken and same goes for your wrist watch it tells you ten by four Your father calls you, and pats you at the back he calls you naïve, and wears a charming smile oh sister please tell me, when did you give up the try oh please sister tell me when did you die Chapter two the wall has five sides at the bed where he lies impromptu dramas, a calculated martyrdom a campaign of change, in the straight line of time caught inside a fishnet of tough love and other feelings that have the wrong names a cemetery for broken chairs that one you love to hate lying next to you a motherly luring scent, urging you to caress her hair the dessert that you mistook for a field between your palms and her dreams filled with strong willed turtles on broken wheels

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


Sunday, June 6, 2010


i have always been dumbstruck before wishes
what is to wish ?
you could close your eyes. think. blow.
chaos is the piece of cake.
and that is true most times in sleep. but also sometimes awake

listening, speaking, listening, speaking
throwing arrows of words
for someone's sake
well, ego gives they say and... you know what's next

first aid certainly comes handy.
breath. slow. breath.
feel. step back. do you see ?
empirical evidence suggests there are more than one here

i turned my guts
inside out. skin likewise.
quick.find. it's certainly been written somewhere again

i got a fluoroscent liver
i got a binary spleen
a chocolate cake
with monograph candy

Saturday, April 24, 2010


Monday, April 19, 2010



Saturday, April 17, 2010


Where now? Who now? When now? Unquestioning. I, say I. Unbelieving. Questions, hypotheses, call them that. Keep going, going on, call that going, call that on. Can it be that one day, off it goes on, that one day I simply stayed in, in where, instead of going out, in the old way, out to spend day and night as far away as possible, it wasn't far. Perhaps that is how it began. You think you are simply resting, the better to act when the time comes, or for no reason, and you soon find yourself powerless ever to do anything again. No matter how it happened. It, say it, not knowing what. Perhaps I simply assented at last to an old thing. But I did nothing. I seem to speak, it is not I, about me, it is not about me. These few general remarks to begin with. What am I to do, what shall I do, what should I do, in my situation, how proceed? By aporia pure and simple? Or by affirmations and negations invalidated as uttered, or sooner or later? Generally speaking. There must be other shifts. Otherwise it would be quite hopeless. But it is quite hopeless. I should mention before going any further, any further on, that I say aporia without knowing what it means.

Monday, April 12, 2010

lit terature

Friday, April 9, 2010

Πίσω από τη λέπτή σκιά μιας λεμονιάς
κάθησε σταυροπόδι ένα τζιτζίκι
είχε κάπως ζαλιστεί απο τη μυρωδία μιας τηγανιάς από πατάτες
που αναδύοταν απο γειτονικό

Θες να κάνουμε πόλεμο; με ρώτησες
εγώ κοιτούσα έξω από το παράθυρο
ένα κύριο με αδιάβροχα πέδιλα, που μου θύμιζαν
κάποια που είχα αγοράσει κάποτε εγώ,
να περνάει το ζέμπρα κρόσσινγκ

πέθανε ο μάλκομ μακλάρεν
μου είπες κοιτάζωντας με στα μάτια
καθώς ο αντώνης με κούρευε, λίγο
πριν κουρέψει και εσένα

αν η πάνκ είχε πατέρα
τον σκότωσε κάποια στιγμή;
είχε και μητέρα;
τί είναι ένας πίνακας χωρίς την κορνίζα του;

Monday, March 22, 2010

desire, choice,

consistency (a point of)
conscience (a matter of)
consciousness (the variable)

Monday, February 22, 2010


no actors. (no directing of actors.) no parts. (no learning of parts.) no staging. but the use of working models, taken from life. being (models) instead of seeming (actors)

nature: what the dramatic art suppresses in favor of a naturalness that is learned and maintained by exercisesThe false when it is homogeous can yield truth

unbalance so as to re-balance

hide the ideas, but so that people find them. the most important will be the most hidden

actors. the nearer they appear (on the screen) with their expressiveness, the further away they get. houses, trees come nearer; the actors go away

fragmentation 'this is indispensible if one does not want to fall into representation. see beings and things in their separate parts. render them independent in order to give them a new dependence

things too much in disorder, or too much in order, become equal, one no longer distinguishes them. They produce indifference and boredom

don't show all sides of things. a margin of indefiniteness

the actor is double. the alternate presence of him and of the other is what the public has been schooled to cherish

what our eyes and ears require is not the realistic persona but the real person

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


a--. observe phenomenon
a-. set criteria, set objective
a. assign meaning
b. assign value to occurrence frequency
c. reevaluate a-
d. reevaluate a--
e. repeat a. adjust if necessary
f. go to a--

Friday, January 22, 2010

scary it is. all that freedom

Saturday, January 9, 2010

dialogue with you without you

spend my night, and my day
talking to you. answering. allegedly silent words
vocalised in the form of a car radio v/o
reverbing in vice city cortexia

huge signs, pointing yourside
stuck in a synaptical traffic jam
two vehicles ahead some emotional 3-axis lorry
gets unexpected flat tyre
tolls collectors inexplicably happy

enormous videowalls, alternating your form, one or another
taking turns, alien to familiar, advertising salvation
be it packed or simply serviced and then
come the trailers of imaginary prose,
my character, yours, a psychodrama then a
sports underdog story

temptress, broken favourite pieces, i4, gottlob, haircut, alone
creative, we must, broadband, vespa, ahead, bios
and various other words parade
a flickering red led display indicator,
some sort of unintelligible (ha) value system
is clearly in place

and then they are spotted. two imposing enormous cranes, and a peculiar
helicopter shouting encoded instructions over the loudspeakers
numerous handlers, forklift drivers and lay labourers
running about commited to the task
a whole partition of the road is at this very momment being relocated,
connecting a high bridge, with a previously inaccesible pasture

over and above the err...sea

no need to talk i guess, about no thing. we already speak.
no need to talk

Monday, January 4, 2010


"There exists" Proffesor Flugel observes, " a very general association on the one hand between the notion of mind, spirit or soul and the idea of the father or of masculinity and on the other hand between the notion of the body or of matter (materia - that which belongs to the mother) and the idea of the mother or of the feminine principle. The repression of the emotions and feelings relating to the mother[in our Judeo-Christian monotheism] has, in virtue of this association, produced a tendency to adopt an attitude of distrust, contempt, disgust or hostility towards the human body, the Earth and the whole material Universe with a corresponding tendency to exalt and overemphasize the spiritual elements, whether in man or in the general scheme of things. It seems very probable that a good many of the more pronouncedly idealistic tendencies in philosophy may own much of their attractiveness in many minds to a sublimination of this reaction against the mother, while the more dogmatic and narrow forms of materialism may perhaps in their turn represent a return of the more repressed feelings originally connected with the mother"

Thursday, December 24, 2009

haze hazier haziest

got out of the toom, balcony but there was no more. strectvhed ahead an elevated water level. this is my parents countryt house. irecognise the location. i look at 2 o clock, where the seaview is, where we have witnessed endless sunsets, all this is inherent truth as i walk out, all this is information i carry wirh elevated sea level, this is clearly the work of climatic change, or a cataclysmic sotmrm now two images compete for my attention, i konw walklook ahread at 12 o clock, the ater is way inside the house, there is no ugly iunfinished house site accross the dirt road. no more, illegally builtillegally licensed house with loads and loads of grape vines waiting to inhabit the walle stretch. this will nbe overlooking would be overlooking the same viesw of the sea as fro m our house, but i stop know as this inhernet truth no more it s only fresh interpreation as i recount no more little house at 11 o clock either at the hill across where m recently decesaed from macancer and c the civinl engineer husband of hers who always luahged at her expense, this house no morethis hfamily no more,mno more t the son, the gay chef either or d whose whereaboutsi m not ware all this is inherrnt truth as i look and these two images compete and the water level way inside the house now, paradoxiaxally there no elextricity wires ewither the eucalyptus by the doorgate is still there, looking around i cannt believe what am seeing, like what am seening, is beautiful. no embarassment frot the place. there is clearly more people inside the house, but no familiatr faces. its beautiful, and so is the secong image, omcing from exacly whee it should ne comeing a violet sunset, spilled over the sea, it s dsea no more, its a lake, no water taxis, no parking lotsall coversed in thiese people gone...where are they? there is comfort but there is a threat. isolationg.not a problem. there is supplies for ever? water level will rise more, its clearlyt a threat. ireturn in the house, am about to discover who is in there, i felt the presence of somebofy but as i was coming out i didnt know who it was aiam in bed,in my parent s bedroom, but it s not located in the smae geography of the house, is somewhate more in the middle..there is a huge bed, there is two girls, women, completely naked, i lie among themnaked too, iwas naked all thsi timemust have benn we touch each toehr, casually, we dont make love..nnoneed for of the m has a fir skin, long hair, short in the foehad, she has nose and clit pierced, we touch we are very comfortable...there is more people in the house, we talk, i am euphoric from what i have seen, but o idont talk about this, they caress eachother, i get up, i must meet the other people. there are urgent matters to e b addresssed. but no anxietty...itsno akward leaving the houserrom imean... we need to build a glass dome, we are in a round room.library, it remings me of london library. it s aboutr four or them. they have aridiculous idea on how to build a dome, i disagree and i ma vocal about it, i m nor going to let it go, i point them to the direction of the library, i know my methodology, i illustrate the fallcies of their logique they dont like it, i am outnumbered but i nknow i am right, they yield...we only need the dome, we remain there protected, isolated from the world, we will be safe , wie will underwater...the people now are more fmailirear my father shoesws up there somehow

Thursday, December 10, 2009


- so, you are saying i am not playing right

- i didn't say anything

- yes, but you have implied it

- i find this arguable. have i asked you to participate in anything?

- well, directly i have to admit that you haven't

- we never agreed to play no game, neither the one, you seem to be having in your mind or any other game for that matter

- we play games, anyhow, all the time

- yes, maybe, involuntarily but you speak of roles

- if we play games, there must be roles

- but then we must know, the point of the game.

- what's the point of the game, no really ?

- stop playing around

- you see!


- take my hand, i feel like dancing tonight

- this sounds like a line from a film

- ok! let me think...the toaster is off, your mother dropped by this morning, they can't keep the dog for Christmas after all, i like this song, take my hand, dance with me a bit, i m so tired, but i feel like dancing tonight

(dancing now)

- mmm, you never made this movement before

- oh well i feel inspired

- do you think our bodies know grammar too?

- how do you mean ?

- i mean do you think our hands converse in space, similarly to words?... do you think that by touching you like that

(touching softly in the elbow)

i have excluded a multitude of other possibilities of touching you

- it seems so...nevertheless you have chosen to touch me exactly like that, and no other way

- and what does this now, say about me ?

- mmmm, you 've never said something like this before


- we are going to be late

- what time it is ?

- it is 8.38

- when does it start ?

- 9.30

- we 'll be fine

- please hurry up, we got to pick stella up with the car, i hate it when we get there late, what are you doing anyway?

-nothing...coming, right away...

Monday, December 7, 2009



Friday, December 4, 2009

the twin navaho gods meet the spider woman

put your feet down with pollen
put your hands down with pollen
put your head down with pollen
then your feet are pollen
your hands are pollen
your body is pollen
your mind is pollen
your voice is pollen
the trail is beautiful
be still

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

way after this summer

and yes i have dropped down many times
but then i got up again
and oh yes, you are my sister because i am your brother
and yes, yes, yes the affirmative
and i am the carrier of your touch
and i am the memory of your sweet kiss
and by my shadow i lie under the thin duvet
getting my grammar right this time

"Εγώ δεν είμαι μόνο αυτός που βλέπεις, αυτός που ξέρεις
δεν είμαι μόνο αυτός που θα πρεπε να μάθεις.
Κάθε επιφάνεια της σάρκας μου κάπου τη χρωστάω
αν σε αγγίξω με την άκρη του δαχτύλου μου
σε αγγίζουν εκατομμύρια άνθρωποι,
αν σου μιλήσει μια λέξη μου
σου μιλάνε εκατομμύρια άνθρωποι -
Θα αναγνωρίσεις τα άλλα κορμιά που πλάθουν το δικό μου;
Θα βρείς τις πατημασιές μου μες σε μυριάδες χνάρια;
Θα ξεχωρίσεις την κίνησή μου μες τη ροή του πλήθους;
Είμαι κι ό,τι έχω υπάρξει και πια δεν είμαι -
τα πεθαμένα μου κύτταρα, οι πεθαμένες
πράξεις, οι πεθαμένες σκέψεις
γυρνάν τα βράδια να ξεδιψάσουν στο αίμα μου.
Είμαι ο,τι δεν έχω γίνει ακόμα -
μέσα μου σφυροκοπάει η σκαλωσιά του μέλλοντος.
Είμαι ό,τι πρέπει να γίνω-
γύρω μου οι φίλοι απαιτούν οι εχθροί απαγορεύουν.
Μη με γυρέψεις αλλού
μονάχα εδώ να με γυρέψεις
μόνο σε μένα"

Monday, November 2, 2009

Sunday, October 25, 2009

to steal_to be given_to take (a midnight summer's dream act V)

is jason theseus? is hippolyta medea? is telegonos hippolytos ? is hercules theseus ? is theseus minos? is hippolyta antiope ? is phaedra penelope ? is phaedra creusa? is ariadne hippolyta? is jason ulysses? is the girdle the minotaur? and what about penthesilla? and what about pirithous?

Thursday, October 22, 2009

semi breve...

a temporary stop/a break in a verse/a brief suspension of the voice to indicate the limits and relations of sentences and their parts/temporary inaction especially as caused by uncertainty, hesitation/ the sign denoting a fermata/a mark (as a period or comma) used in writing or printing to indicate or correspond to a pause of voice/ a reason or cause for pausing (as to reconsider)/a function of an electronic device that pauses a recording

Friday, October 16, 2009

two words on ...journey

EARLY NOTIONS OF ACQUIRED RIGHTS AND THE INFLUENCE OF COLLECTIVE TRADITION UPON THE INDIVIDUAL. 1One must sell it to some one, the sacred name of love. 2Making it up as we goes along. 3The law of the jungerl. 4Let me blush to think of all those halfwayhoist pullovers. 5I'd like his pink's cheek. 6Frech devil in red hairing! So that's why you ran away to sea, Mrs Lappy. Leap me, Locklaun, for you have sensed! 7A washable lovable floatable doll. knowledge that often hate on first hearing comes of love by second sight.

Friday, October 9, 2009

ιχνηλάτες των συμβόλων

at war with words and mazes

Απ' όταν ο Θησέας σκότωσε τον Μινώταυρο
ο λαβύρινθος εγκαταλείφθηκε, απολύθηκαν οι φύλακες
με τον καιρό γκρεμίστηκε η οροφή του
βγήκαν στο φως οι τρομεροί διάδρομοι
οι αίθουσες για τα βασανιστήρια, την ανθρωποφαγία
οι στοές με τις κρυμμένες εφευρέσεις
τους καταχωνιασμένους θησαυρούς
πέσανε οι τοίχοι, μείναν μόνο τα χνάρια
από περίπλοκα χαράγματα πάνω στη γη.
Όμως προσομοιώσεις λαβυρίνθων, σκοτεινές κατασκευές
δεν έπαψαν να χτίζονται με νέα υλικά
με καινούργια τέρατα, θύματα, ήρωες, ηγεμόνες,
φτιάχνονται προπαντός λαβύρινθοι με λέξεις
κάθε χρονιά μπαίνουν μέσα τους νέες φουρνιές
αγόρια και κορίτσια, με φόβο μαζί και αψηφισιά
για τις παγίδες, τις καταπακτές, τ' αδιέξοδα
φιλοδοξώντας να ξαναπλάσουν και να παίξουν
το παλιό δράμα προσαρμοσμένο στα νέα δεδομένα
δίνοντας στους κύριους ρόλους τα ίδια ονόματα
Μίνωας, Πασιφάη, Μινώταυρος, Αριάδνη,
Δαίδαλος, Ίκαρος, Θησέας.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

faux pas

1. Gerda: So you believe that all belief is the product of custom and circumstance (or: childhood buffets, class struggle...). Isn't that position self-limiting? Mustn't you see yourself as reflecting only a single complex of circumstances?
Grobian: Your objection is inapplicable, for it is merely the product of blind forces. Moreover, your childhood buffets were pernicious and regrettable, for they have set you against this truth.

2. Gerda: So you believe that all knowledge comes from God in proportion to our virtue or worth, and that all ignorance, error, and uncertainty come from the Devil in proportion to our vices. May I ask what evidence you have for this remarkable thesis?
Grobian: I pity you infinitely for your sins.

3. Gerda: Doctor Grobian, I am not crazy! I stole the bread because my children were hungry.
Why do you assume that every crime is caused by illness?
Grobian: Why do you deny it?
Gerda: I am not playing a game. I really want an answer to my question.
Grobian: Obviously your ego cannot cope with the truth and you display this inadequacy in hostility to your doctor. I will not recommend your release.

4. Gerda: So you believe x, y, and z. But you are mistaken. Consider evidence a, b, and c. What do you say?
Grobian: It's a mystery. If I could understand it, I wouldn't believe it. I can't help it if it's the truth. One day perhaps you'll see the light too.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

A. P. Møller_on learning

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

boiling paradigms/ a portal


heartbeat 9/8

ο ρυθμός (από το ρήμα ρέω) στη μουσική ταυτίζεται με την οργάνωση του χρόνου/η οργάνωση αυτή βρίσκεται σε απόλυτη εξάρτηση με τους τονισμούς και τη διάρκεια των ήχων /η αίσθηση του ρυθμού δημιουργείται/ α) από τη διαδοχή σε ίσα χρονικά διαστήματα τονισμένων και ατόνιστων ήχων, ίδιας μεταξύ τους διάρκειας / β) μια κανονική διαδοχή ήχων διαφορετικής διάρκειας που παρουσιάζονται σε μια προαποφασισμένη σειρά που επαναλαμβάνεται

μέτρο είναι ένα μέσο απεικόνισης, ένα πλαίσιο μέσα στο οποίο καταγράφονται οι τονισμοί και οι αξιές των φθόγγων (ή των παύσεων αν χρείαστει) κατά τρόπο που η πραγματική τους διάρκεια μπορεί να μετρηθεί με ακρίβεια/ για να είναι είναι δυνατό αυτό το μέτρημα πρέπει να υπάρξει μια απόλυτα ισόποση διαίρεση του χρόνου. αυτό γίνεται με μια υποθετική ροή ισόχρονων κτύπων, που ονομάζονται παλμοί /για να υπάρξει καλύτερη αντίληψη των παλμών του ρυθμού, γίνεται ομαδοποίηση τους σε μικρές ισόποσες ομάδες που ονομάζονται μέτρα / χχ /χχ/ χχ/ χχ (διμερές μέτρο)/ χχχ / χχχ /χχχ /χχχ (τριμερές μέτρο)

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

when the tracer met Radical Alterity

and took him out for dinner

Sunday, September 20, 2009

what/we/will do/with/the/deadweight ?

αγάπη μου
άκου με, που λέω αγάπη μου
ακού τα άλφα να μπουκώνουν το στόμα μου
να ξεχειλώνουν τα χείλη μου όπως το σκάνε

περπατούσαμε χρόνια στο
πηκτό σκοτάδι,
χέρι χέρι
πως να μην παλέψουμε
πως να μην ματώσουμε
πως να μην

τόσα πρόσωπα, νεκρά, ξεψυχισμένα
και μόνο ένα όνομα ;

Thursday, September 17, 2009

at war with walls and mazes


in the absence of an effective general myhtology, each of us has his private,unrecognised, rudimentary, yet secretly potent pantheon of dream. the lastest incarnation of Oedipus, the continued romance of Beauty and the Beast, stand this afternoon on the corner of Forty-second Street and fifth Avenue, waiting for the traffic light to change.[...] the doctor (psychoanalyst) is the modern master of the mythological realm, the knower of all the secret ways and words of potency. His role is precisely that of the Wise Old Man of the myths and fairytales whose words assist the hero through the trials and terrors of the weird adventure. He is the one who appears and points to the magic shining sword that will kill the dragon-terror, tells of the waiting bride (apply genders adlib) and the castle of many treasures, applies healing balm to the almost fatal wounds, and finally dismisses the conqueror back into the world of normal life, following the great adventure into the enchanted night.[...]we remain  fixated to the unexercised images of our infancy, and hence disinclined to the necessary passages of our adulthood (see rites of passage)[...]lest our energies should remain locked in a banal, long-outmoded toy-room, at the bottom of the sea

If our language provides the symbols to unlock our true desires, our dreams have to provide the symbols for our timeless journey. may the intitiation begin...

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


i braise ?

Friday, September 11, 2009


(what is a burning question ?)

Thursday, September 10, 2009

trans It

Sunday, September 6, 2009

i stole the idea from tim allen

iii am tense
i sit in the sofa
i sometimes lie
iiii watched the red convertible ferrari enter the hilton
i didn't anticipate that
i despise the i's
iiii have now slept with my father
ii felt the heat of my revenge in her eyes as we were sweating in her new ikea bed that we assembled together
iii am and can be funny
i just called her my father
i eyed the lingering of the pine
iii haven't been to the army
iii was born to working class parents
iiiii made this specific demographic
i love avocado
i have spoken the unspeakable
iii constantly am looking for context
iiii randomly censor my i
i though never my eye
iii have also slept with my mother
ii caressed her long black hair
ii choose my words
i and time
i like and use words like sofa, irrigation, egotism, indulgence
iii like the looks of the word transit
iii project my indulgence to you
i cheated on quantitative methods
iii make references too
ii am dialectic
i find this arguable
i have also called her my mother
iii take you for granted
i am a brother to two sisters for instance
iii enjoy meeting my friends sunday daytime
i named my dog argos
iiii have now killed my mother
ii have left her one night last september to go for a drink
i am typing
i rode a certain stream of consciousness
i have left my mother for my father
iiii think that that's fair
ii must admit it's only reasonable
i'm going to anagrammatize reason able in this line son bae real
iii wished to illustrate the existence of such liberties
i like scifi films
iii walk in pitch dark
i am holding hands
iii am blinking my left eye
i skype with NYC almost every night
i play the guitar
i really planned to tackle this in single line sentences
iiii failed
i iii i i suck in grammar
i said "-i meant well "
iii have not consented to become a wedding trophy
iii don't readily claim injustice
i. ii. iii. ...
i thus killed my father too
iii am gemini
i and the symbol i
iii sometimes ponder upon the demonization of incest
i consider the conclusions of such pondering obvious
ii simply i,
iii could possibly clarify by adding that such conclusions are related to my quest for the unspeakable
i must now say someting like oups! i guess
i feel that you may don't know why
iiiii am wikipedia, and facebook and global warming
iii a certain space occupy
i and me, and you, and consistency
iiiiiii i am tb, rss, fto bmi
iiii have not coined the term "unspeakable"
i saw that cockroach too
iii am a villager of the world
i is i if and only if i is i
i. never I
i m here and now
i sometimes lie
iii some times not knowingly, lie