2020

Our great architect, Aris Konstantinidis in his book "The architecture of architecture" says that for everything we lose we win something else. It's the way that nature keep our life in balance. The year that is about to finish took so many from me. As you grow older though you know that there's never a forever thing. And you learn how to smooth the sadness in your soul. And you learn that you can control only yourself, your reasoning and your actions. And by admitting this, you also learn to forgive the actions of the others as a result of their reasoning.

The year that is about to finish also gave me a lot. Not just every day life things. Goethe wrote that if you know how to make wine, don't make vinegar. I definitely know how to make wine. And you too. Be kind to others, you don't know their reasoning. You will meet people who will lie, betray your trust, try to cause you trouble, say something and act differently, shout at you. What we call evil people. Look better. It's not the case. Those that you consider evil, are actually loved by someone. They are fathers and sons and mothers and daughters to someone. Studying Sociology the last few months, I learn that a sociologist doesn't put tags on situations. Just examines the situation on the perspective of diferent actors. Learning this in addition to the philosophy of the Stoics, made me want to become a better person. And it's not an easy task, as years and years of bad habits and ways of being are hard to change. I'm working on it and I'm making it. I don't believe I was making vinegar, but I realised I can make better wine.

As a new year is about to commence I urge you all to be kind to each other, avoid useless conflicts, work on yourself and enjoy every second of your life. Whatever you do, do it with passion. If you don't like it, try to change it. Remember, there's never a forever thing. That includes you as a person. Live while you can. And as I do the last few years, I'll leave here a quote by my loved dead philosopher, Marcus Aurelius: " Everything that happens, happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so." I observed really carefully and he is right again. Happy New Year, my beautiful friends. Be good.

Christmas

As a kid, on this day, early in the morning, I would grab my musical triangle and go around the streets of Nikaia with one or two more friends to sing the carols to unknown people and they would give us some pocket money in exchange. Some were really happy and they would even put us inside their house. Some didn't even bother to open the door. On the streets you would meet many other carol kids giving you information on who's giving good money and who's not. Sometimes, we would go to a kafeneio (=old fashioned cafe, where mostly old people spend their time, playing backgammon or cards) and all the customers would gather a good amount of money for us. Then it would always be Mr. Takis, the owner of the laundry that he was sitting in his chair and in the table in front of him, had a pile of 5 drachmas coins, those with Aristotle on one side, whose value was small, but I liked them, because in my school there was this bust of Alexander the Great and underneath it was written "I am indebted to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well." and we then learned that Aristotle was his teacher. Mr. Takis would count how many kids were there and then give each a coin. At around two o'clock we would finish. We would share our earned money equally and then I would take my coins to the bakery of Mr. Kozadinos, outside the cemetery or to the supermarket of Mr. Apalidis to exchange my coins with banknotes.

At home, my dear father, would double the amount I gathered and then I would go to Mrs. Sevasti and Mr. Kostas toy store to buy Playmobil to upgrade my American Civil War (with a twist of Indians) game or tiny plastic soldiers in Matchbox boxes. I had the Red Army in big amounts, then Scottish and English soldiers and French and Germans. The alliances would change according to my will. And I would use any imaginative other toy or object, to built my trenches. Used mosquito repellent tablets was my favourite ones, always side down, so the printed brand can't be seen. No war have a sponsor I was thinking (how innocent I was). On top of this, Mrs. Sevasti would always give me some toy for free, cause she loved me much.

Then it was the Christmas tree and the absolutely clean house with beautiful tablecloths and carpets and all the new stuff my parents would buy in this period, thanks to the 13th Christmas salary, like a new colour television or new chairs or anything. And a big table full of food and traditional home made melomakarona and kourabiedes, which I had the luck to participate in making them. And no school! Christmas was great!

I was really shy as a kid, so my career as a carol singer ended early. And as years passed the Christmas spirit was dying inside me. Till it died totally. Only sometimes when I was watching this Ebenezer Scrooge movie (which always makes me cry, even the thought of it) I was feeling Christmas. Now, Christmas is just a day in the year with a special name. I had some nice Christmas days in London with someone I loved and nothing really mattered.

I like all of you, that you keep the Christmas spirit alive with nice decorations, with nice gifs shared in FB messenger and feeling festive. I keep the moral of the day. And I keep this moral alive every day, the last few months. It's about the birth of Jesus, who taught us to be kind, to care, to share, to give back, to love even our enemies or those against us. It's about compassion, forgiveness, serenity and peace. I don't believe in heaven or hell. I'm just food for worms, after I die. And I believe that soul dies as well, sometimes even if your body is still alive. But I also believe that "heaven" or "hell" is created by our reasoning and actions, here. On this planet. It was some kind words, some of you wrote to me, that kept me going, in my darkest hours, even if I never told you. And I'm thankful for this. It was some of your small actions, that made me really sad, but I never told you again, so you don't know. My dead philosophers taught me not to let all these affect me. And It's still the hardest lesson I have to swallow. I'm working on it.Anyway, make sure you are close to those you love, tell them that you love them, show that you love them. Be kind to everyone. Care for everything. Give back something, when you get, not necessarily to the person who gave you. Never deny to help those who asked you for it. Some day you'll be in their position.

Merry Christmas, my dear friends. Bless you all.

The basics

The last few days I'm thinking a lot about my first days in London. I arrived with a large and a small suitcase, my laptop and my Nikon camera bag. I was only thinking how to succeed and make it alright. I was only thinking how to prove wrong people back home that didn't believe that I'll make it. I was living in a small room. I bought a pan, a pot, a plate, a glass, a knife, a fork and a spoon. All could fit in a small bag. I was drinking McCafe or Starbucks in best occasion. I spent my last five pounds to buy a pair of brown shoes from Primark to attend some awards in Reuters building, since my friend who invited me there told me to avoid wearing sports shoes, which was the only pair I had brought with me from Greece.I experienced the ultimate poverty for a couple of weeks. Zero money in my pocket. I was happy though. And I was happy because I was free from material things, I think. I was happy cause the people I met at work treat me like real friends. They invited me to nice parties.

I met the most beautiful girl I have seen in my life and she has also been through the same ultimate poverty. In her own words, she was eating peanut butter and bread for a couple of weeks. We create something beautiful together. We managed to survive. We stayed under the same roof. We escape the poverty. We did things that alive people do. We share experiences. 

The we became I again. I was full of grief and sadness and bad thoughts about myself. I had to escape from this. I lost the extra weight I had. I'm losing more. I went to a better job that fills me up as a chef. I started studying what I was always dreaming to study. I escaped. I feel a bit better now. I still miss her. I miss sharing all this memes, I miss her sleeping in my shoulder in the bus and fill my jacket with her make up. I miss her coming on my side of the table, sitting on my legs, filling each other faces and necks with kisses. I miss her showing me her beautiful drawings. I miss her filling my room with her beautiful golden hair. I miss her listening to my stupid complaints about tiny little things. I miss her laughter and her voice. I miss telling her "shoes" and I miss her telling me "milk". I'm probably wrong, but I still don't think that anyone can replace her, ever. 

Anyway, I'm now a bit better as I said, but still not happy. I have some happy moments, I have tough times from working and studying, so many hours. I'm getting rid of material stuff all these months. I'm meeting friends and new people. I felt being desired again. I felt people looking for my company. I wanna be happy like back in these days. It's still a long way, but I'm walking it. I'll make it. I have to go back to the basics to find out who am I again.

Assignment

I'm about to deliver my second assignment at the Open University tonight. My brain is like a jelly fish right now. So many different parameters to be considered and add, on what I am writing about. I feel like I was asked to squeeze some lemon with a squeezer but I'm not so certain on how to do it, as I have never done before and I wasn't prepared properly on how to do it, due to, once again, bad time management. And I feel like instead of taking a nice smooth lemon juice, I'll have some pieces and probably seeds inside. I hope that this is just a feeling and that at the end of the day, it will be fine, what I wrote. I think though that's the idea of studying. It's not about reading a novel or watching a movie. It's about squeezing your brain to reach to a certain result. And make your brain, thinking totally out of the box. And I have realised that's what the module I'm doing right now is about. Is about teaching me all the methodology I should use from now on. It's about leaving your comfort zone mentally. And I love it, I have to say.

Another dream

The room was half dark. Dim light was coming from the road through the ochre curtains. Everything was clean and tidy. No much traffic outside. I was in bed. The bathroom door was closed. I could see the light was on, from the little gap at the bottom of the door. Or was just the reflection of the light from the corridor outside, that was coming from the bottom gap of the main door? I was always confused by this. I stood. Walked to the bathroom. I opened the door. The light from inside blind me and a really tall brunette woman was pointing at me. Her face was pale. Was that her finger or was she holding a gun? I was in fear. My fear became bigger when she fell towards me. I realised she was dead. She looked like Lynda. By instinct I closed the door very quickly and stopped her body from falling into the room and onto me. My heart was beating really fast. 

I woke up. It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. I was dressed in bed. I walked out the house to relax the pulses of my heart. It was sunny. I turned on left at the corner of my street. I would usually be outside the entrance of the tube station, but no. It was a narrow road, like the ones you see in coastal towns in southern Spain. It was full of young people and a lot of places to drink and eat. Tables and sofas outside. I kept walking. There I spotted them. It was two girls wearing black, one girl with red hair, the Spanish guy who is a teacher and sings beautifully and she. They were seating in a black sofa. I felt so strange meeting them. She was wearing that vampire's wife t-shirt and her pink long skirt. In front of her she was having a trolley luggage. It looked like the one that was stolen from me in Barcelona. It wasn't this one though. Just same colour. She didn't have any expression on her face, when she saw me. We didn't talk. I talked to the teacher, asking him, how he's doing. "All good", he replied with a smile. They both went to order something from the blue window. I sit down, where she was sitting. I turned left and one of the girls with the black clothes talked to me in a foreign language. She was really beautiful, with a model perfect face and black crow short hair.  Never heard this language before. She was asking me something. "What are you saying?" I said to her. She repeated her question. Her voice was so smooth. I looked at her with a confused face. She turned to her other friend wearing black and they spoke in the foreign language really calmly. I turned my head. The Spanish, She and the trolley luggage have disappeared.

I started walking down the street. I spotted her again. She was sitting down alone. I stood in front of her. "Hello." I said. "Nice to see you again." I felt like I wanted to tell her everything in my mind. But then I thought that I shouldn't. "Are you staying here?". She said hello and that she had to catch a flight at ten to three. I bend a bit, bringing my face in front of hers. I wanted to kiss her lips. She put her hand in front of her mouth. She said that she was hungry. She stood and ordered something. I was following her. She picked up the food. It was two black pieces in the plate. One looked like chicken breast and the other like a meatball. They were not cremated-burned, but they were black. I left her and walked home. On my way back, I thought that I may ask her to come home to rest before her flight. She had two hours till then. I ride a tricycle, like the ones you see in Oxford Street outside Selfridges. I ride back to the street. She wasn't there anymore. Maybe I made a wrong turn. I went to the next street. And then back to the previous one. She was here, wasn't she? I ride further down. Where is she she? She went to the airport already, maybe. Should I ride all the way to Victoria to talk to her? 

I woke up for real this time. She was just in my dream again. My heart was pulsing so fast. What stories the subconscious is creating while your sleep...

Human touch

Tonight, I went for dinner to Holborn Dining Room. Worked in this place for more than three years and I learned so much as a chef and as a human. The space is so beautiful, the food was excellent as always but the most important thing was the love I felt from all my former colleagues there. Tight hugs that could cause asphyxiation, kisses and all these warm eyes looking at me with so much love. Felt like I was a member of a family that has been away for a trip and returned home.

It's so nice knowing that some people, even if you see them so rarely, they give you so much love every time you are with them. It's this human touch that makes me feel so good every time I meet people I know. And I want to believe that they show me love for being a nice, funny and good human. 

Ancient Greeks were thinking that υστεροφημία (=posthumous reputation or legacy) was so important. I always thought the same during all my life so far. I make sure that noone will have any bad memories from me. Yes, I have made mistakes with people, but not so many times. I strongly believe that even if I got hurt many times during my life from people, I didn't hurt anyone back. And as time is passing by, I'm becoming better in this. Live and let live, I think. Everyone has his reasoning in being good or bad. I chose to be the good.

Marks

I got my marks for my first assignment in The Open University. Waiting for it, I had mixed feelings. The fact is that I never got marks in this century, in anything, apart from stupid Facebook tests. Another fact is that I screw it up with my time management, therefore I had a load of material to study in a super short period and I had to write my assignment under deadline pressure in a more scientific and official way than the one I'm writing here, which is the way I talk.

I wasn't so certain if I did my reference list correctly. I knew though that I have studied hard my material and I totally and absolutely understood everything I studied. Putting all these in a Word document, answering a question, was quite challenging. As challenging it is to write something here.

A part of me wanted to excel in this. Another part of me was feeling that it would be a disaster. The mark is far above the disaster, but not an excel. But there are two important things that happened to me while reading the comments of my tutor in my essay. First, now I know what went wrong and I can fix it in my next assignment. My reference list turn out to be ok, apart from how to put it in line (FYI, it goes alphabetically to the author's name). Second, I felt so fucking good for what I'm doing. The whole process of learning new terms and writing about them in a restricted word count is so challenging. The most challenging part, though, is that through studying I have the opportunity to sharpen a bit more my intelligence, to push myself further in a better path, to become a better human.

I feel lucky to be supervised by this amazing Japanese tutor. I want to find some time to read her books about nationalism. I feel so good knowing that I love what I'm doing, knowing that after I finish this module, which is about social science, the one that follows is about PHILOSOPHY! I thank the synchronicity for meeting this Kosovar girl at work who told me about this course, in a period that my life seemed so meaningless. I love what I'm doing, I have find a job that I love and pays really good, in my favourite part of London and finally I have find a meaning in my life, apart from survival. :-)

Mementos than brings a smile #1

-Can I...(followed by any intention to do something)
-If you wish...
-They're on the dish.
-You'll pay for this.

A dream

He was really famous back in the eighties. Lead singer to this band that was selling millions of albums. I decided to go and see him. Hoping he would play some of the band's big hits. I went up the white marble stairs, filled with fluorescent lamp lights. I entered a darker room with white walls and two windows. Outside, the yellow lamps of the street could be seen. Next to the stairs, was the lift for one person only. There were six white MDF tables, put in no particular order in the room. There was a tiny bar, similar to the one that existed, next to the entrance of the Orange Bar in Ios. A bearded young barman was behind, looking so bored being there. I grabbed a drink and sit in the corner table. The stage was next to the bar and it was equally tiny. He grabbed his guitar and started playing his tunes. His hair were long and white and sparse. We were six people listening to him, all sitting in different tables. Alone.

I fell asleep. I could feel the cold surface of the table in my cheek. But I was too tired to bother. I woke up when he said "Thank you". He put his guitar down. Nobody clapped. I walked towards him. He looked so sad. He was filling up stadiums once and there he was playing for six people. And one of them was sleeping. I asked him politely for a photo. He nodded yes. I looked around. A chubby blonde girl and a tiny black hair girl were walking behind me, going to the stairs. I don't know how they get there. They were not in the audience for sure. "Love, can you take us a photo, please?" I said. They went down the stairs without even looking at me. He put his black backpack on. In panic, I looked behind me for the next "photographer". "Bro, can you take us a photo?" I said. He equally ignored me, like I was a ghost. He opened the door of the lift. The girls appeared again from the stairs. I wanted to ask them again. The door of the lift was now closed and the light from the cabin was disapearing in the square window, like a filling progress bar in a computer screen. I was alone in the venue. Had a last look at the windows and walked down the stairs.

Trip

I was dragging myself to small paths, leading to dead ends that could be seen straight away. I thought I was walking in the right direction and forced to do a U-turn that cost me time and energy, like the one in Berlin, followed by my two good Iberian friends. Occasionally I was dragged and carried by some others. They were like a supermarket trolley and I was inside it. I got off the trolley. I stood. I slowly walked a street for hours till I met a bigger street with lots of cars. I met many people there and convinced them to come with me. We turned left and walked on the pavement of this street. I was observing the cars that were stuck in traffic, all going to the entrance of the highway, that could be seen. We reached that highway and I felt uneasy. There was only a narrow pavement there and the cars were like speeding bullets. You could feel the forced air from the side of the cars, hitting you like a bomb blast. Some people stopped and walked back. Some kept going with me in a single line, like ants carrying food to their holes. I was looking back to make sure that everyone's still following. I lost a few in the way. We found the first exit to the big city. Most people said they'll go there and waved goodbye. The rest kept going. Another exit, less people. And another exit. And another one. Only me and another brave person left walking. And in this exit, we were hugged and kissed and then got in a taxi, looking at me from the rear window. I was looking back till I couldn't see any face and then I couldn't read the white number plate and then I could only see a yellow dot that disappeared. I kept walking. I found many more exits. The destinations looked promising. I kept going. Listening to the sound of the roaring cars. Felt like home in London. Twenty four hours of the same sound outside my window. On my right, I saw these green fields, beautiful slops filled with poppies, lines of chestnut trees, crows and ducks and geese and creeks and small wooden houses and cows and horses. I jumped above the concrete wall when I met another human. We talked and talked. Felt good there. We walked up a hill and from the top, we saw the ocean. This beautiful neverending blue. We walked next to the white cliff till we reached the sea level. The serenity of the waves at last. I'm here now. I lost a lot. I learned a lot. I'm discovering a lot. We read on how to built a boat. I'm wondering which will be the next destination when I only see the line of the horizon.

On Ghosteen

Well, my conspiracy theory about the non existence of Ghosteen, like all the conspiracy theories, collapsed. Ghosteen is here. I heard it in a listening party at the Rough Trade. I bought it. I'll pick it up in November.

I managed to listen to it for the second time today. In the period between the two listenings, I read so many things about it on the internet. My initial thoughts were the same as the majority. Where is the guitar? Where are the drums? What Warren did to Nick? Is this a soundtrack of an non-existent movie? (maybe it is the soundtrack of a movie to come and that's another conspiracy theory) Why did Nick bother to give credits to The Bad Seeds and not circulate this album as a personal one? What is this album about after all?

I'm trying to answer to myself all these questions. For start, I heard the guitar and the drums. They are part of the background musical carpet that allows Nick to express his grief, his loss, his pain and his will to continue with life. And that background musical carpet is what Warren did FOR Nick (and not TO Nick). And yes, sounds like a soundtrack because a soundtrack purpose is to express and to complete musically the story on the screen (find more about the importance of music in the movies of Stanley Kubrick and Alfred Hitchcock). There's no movie here, so it's the soundtrack of the tragedy and aftermath of this tragedy on Nick's life. What could be more real than this?

Having briefly met some of The Bad Seeds, I'm certain that they are not just puppets or instruments to Nick's album. They are fantastic, good-hearted personalities and amazing musicians. Just check what they all did before being in The Bad Seeds and what they are doing in their breaks from The Bad Seeds. I'm also certain that they all contributed to this album.And in the time of loss who would you like to be next to you, if not your friends, those that know you so much, those that will cheer you up, will give you the courage and advices to go on?

This is not a typical album of The Bad Seeds obviously. Lyrics, poetically, express what's in Nick soul all this time. It takes a lot of talent to be able to express what's in your soul through art. It also takes a lot of courage to make public what's in your soul. The results are liberating though.

I don't have the talent to express myself through art. I'm only able to write down what's in my soul. And I sometimes make these writings public, in a small corner I have, somewhere on the internet. That's a reason I love artists of all forms and especially Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. For their talent and their bravery.

I've been through the greatest loss of my life recently. Many times I thought that my loss can't be compared with someone who is losing his child or his leg or his good health. And that life must go on. That's what Nick does in this album. For the moment, I don't want to listen to it. I'm still in my healing process and I don't find it helpful cause some of the lyrics slap me hard, even if I know it's not about me.

Small thoughts #5

Sometimes, you are in front of situations, that could end up really amazing or really bad. I'm living it right now. I'm waiting to see what's going to happen. If things go well, I'll make a huge step forward. If not it will be really disappointing. I feel like I want to pray. But I'm not sure that I'm faithful anymore. And I'm pessimist by nature, with small periods of optimism. Not at this moment for sure...

Ghosteen

So, Nick Cave announced a new album. To be honest I'm still not 100% certain that he is not trolling us all. But then Susie and George post the cover, like Nick did. But not Jim or Larry. And following most of them on Instagram and Facebook, I didn't see them all together gathering somewhere to record, for at least a year. Which of course is not any longer necessary with all the technology, nowdays. Anyway, I put a story of the cover on my Instagram stories.

The best part, about the new album thing is the reactions. Reactions like mine here. Conspiracy theories, what it means that one is kids and the other parents part, what the cover is hiding, Buddhism, New Age, JW type of drawing, Nick is touring with conversations, no single announced, no video, blah blah. And I saw so many people that I know online and offline, losing their mind and talk bollocks.

Anyway, my logic says, we'll wait and we'll see. Next week, Nick said. Still not convinced...

Edit: Is true after all! Ghosteen is coming out next week! So good to be true. 

Paul

Paul lives in a shelter for homeless. For some weird reason, somebody has wrote a review on Google for the shelter calling it "a horrible place to live" awarding it with one star. I meet Paul quite often around midnight, begging for some money to buy a can of beer. I'm the guy that will cover him to the off licence to buy a can of beer almost every time I'll see him. I'm not sure if I'm right or wrong for doing this. I know that if I don't do it, he'll wait outside the place till really late till he makes it to gather the amount he needs. Two Pounds. So, I am covering him, cause I want to see him grabbing happily his beer, going to his bed in the shelter and stay there for the night.

All the times I did it, he was was really thankful, walked in the same direction with me, till his shelter, gave me a handshake, thanked me again and assured me that he would stay in the shelter till the morning while ringing the bell for the door to open.

Paul is black, without teeth and I'm not sure if he's always drunk, mentally ill or both. He's definitely the person that most of you, would avoid, be rude to and definitely wouldn't have a handshake with. Without knowing his story, for me, Paul could be any of us. Paul is the by-product of our "civilisation". Paul is human though and carries a soul. And every soul should be treated with Kindness.

Kidney stone

Last night on my way home from work I experienced the strongest pain ever in my life, around my belly, spreading all the way around my back. I would really prefer to die at this moment. It was unbearable. Some painkillers and a hot water bottle allowed me to go through the night, hoping that the pain will go. The opposite happened.

I skipped work and crawled to Charing Cross hospital, this morning. Had blood and urine tests and a CT scan found a kidney stone, quite big, that made it to the bladder, creating inflammations all the way there. I'm drugged like an elephant right now and given extra medication for the days following. I really thought that it was something more severe, from the amount of pain. Something like terminal stage cancer. I was ready to give my cremation instructions to my best friend. Happy that I left standing from there. On positive news, my blood exams (apart from some values affected by the inflammations and pain) are perfect. Never thought of this. I really thought that my blood condition would be much more bad than it is.

I would like to thank my friends, that after learned about my small adventure, they wished me well and offered me any kind of help and advices. It's really nice to know that your friends care.

Our NHS is a jewel. What they did for me in almost five hours, would have take weeks in Greece. I feel more proud now that I participated in the campaign to save Charing Cross hospital from demolition, that the government wanted. And I would like to thank everyone there for taking care of me!

How cool is that the girl in the CT scan told me "Pull your pants down.". Never been told this before...

Regroup

I'm doing great these days. I realised though, that now that the adrenaline levels of the initial excitement for change are dropping, so is the speed of the changes. I need to regroup a bit. I agree with what I read somewhere in the internet. It's the discipline and not the motivation that push you forward. And I'm glad that this time I realise that it's time to stop, evaluate, regroup and move on. All my previous attempts failed because I never did this and I was returning back to the "normal" condition of me. Cause change is difficult. I have achieved a lot in a very short time though and already earned a lot.

October will be very important month. My studies begin and I have to be ready for it. I need to speed up decluttering my home, my computer, my phone, my feelings and create systems that will work like good habits. It's called consistency. I will keep repeating these words till they become my nature. Discipline and consistency.

Is just a little pause to decide which is the right path to practically reach my targets, learning from what doesn't work properly. I'll need only a few days to work it out and I'll move forward again. And I'm sure that the improved system will be more effective.

Small thoughts #4

Many times someone will treat you bad. And you will wonder or even ask that someone "Do I deserve this?". I have done it. The answer is yes. You deserve this. I can only think of two possibilities why someone will treat you bad. You are a cunt, so you deserve it. This someone is a cunt, so again you deserve it, cause you shouldn't deal with cunts.

Memory

You can always delete a photo. From Facebook, Instagram, your camera or your phone. And it will be gone from your eyes forever. Maybe there will be some copy left in someone else's computer, who downloaded this photo and you will recover it.

What you can't delete is the memory of the event that was in the photo. Time will erode the memory. But memory will always be there, even distorted. A memory is another spacetime.

The exact time that the memory took place will be forgotten very quick. That's why fairytales begins with "Once upon a time...". A memory is a fairytale. Not easy to remember an exact date you were somewhere, unless if it was a special day. And even this will be probably forgotten, eventually.

The exact place of the memory will always be there, even if it is nuclear bombed. It will change though. You might have spent hours in your favourite record store when you were a kid or teenager, discovering music. The record store is now a clothes store. You still pass outside and the name of the record store comes in your mind. You might remember by appearance some of the people working there. You'll remember the first time you went there, probably with your best friend at the time. You remember your best friend that you have no news from for ages. You might remember funny or weird stories while being there. Or you will be transferred to another memory spacetime, connected with your best friend at the time and wonder where is he now. If the place has not changed, you will have a clear memory. You will remember exactly where you standed, what you did, who you were with, the noises around you, the weather conditions.

A sharing memory is more complicated. It is more than you, that shared the specific timespace. That makes a memory complicated. You will always remember the first time you went somewhere with someone. You will remember this someone no matter how many years will pass or how many years you haven't seen this person. A small trigger will remind you of this person. There are at least two different observations of this memory. That's why you say you had great time somewhere, but the person shared the memory says opposite. This spacetime memory maybe seems ideal to you, but not for everyone. We are all different. A cool place for you, can be seen horrible for someone else.

What triggers a memory is a place, a photo, a song, an object or a person. It could be a combination of all these. You have connected a song to a person. Every time I listen to "Ruby baby" can´t help myself remembering Ruby, the girl from Philippines that I worked with and I was singing her this song every time I seen her. I know she is good and happy somewhere in London, but I have no connections with her for years. All my ex girlfriends are connected with a song. "The loom of the land" is the most recent. I hope she is happy. Women I had a crush on are connected with the song. It's funny how the music of a game that I played on my phone is connected with Maria. I used to chat with her while playing the game. I know she is happy in a place in Europe. Friends that died, are connected with a song. The last time I met Stavros, he was holding the soundtrack of Pulp Fiction that had just bought on vinyl. I hope he made a good listen to it. 

The more observative you are, the more detailed memories you'll create. So look around you at all times. Your memories will make you want to create more memories. There will be always a memory to be, a memory that never happened but maybe you'll have the chance to create it. Go for it. And do it with your loved ones. Memories are those that connect us with our best friend, our significant one, our family. Create memories with those you love. Everyday. Or you will end up with the memory of the person you loved, only.

Memories are part of you. Memories is you. Memories is your little blot in this world. Most of your memories will die with you. Part of your memories will die later when those lived with you, die as well. Your memories will die totally when those who heard your memories as stories from someone else, die. And your blot will be only beraucracy paperwork in some envelopes filled with dust or in a old computer hard drive. Your blot will be old photos and personal belongings that will pass to other hands or end up in a landfill.  

Lavrentis

Lavrentis has left the building.

"...The moon looks like you.

Where to find serenity.

Over Hades I'm dawning.

How (much) I want you..."

Student

Well, I've applied and accepted to study for BA in Philosophy, Politics and Economics at the Open University. I wanted to do this since I moved to the UK and finally the time has come. I'm not doing it for professional reasons. I have a profession and I'm really good at it. I'm doing it to become a better person. I'm doing it to prove wrong all my teachers in Greece when they were always saying that I'm intelligent, but lazy. I was not lazy, I was just bored the way the system worked. I'm doing it to prove myself that my capabilities have no limits. I can do anything, under the right guidance, but only if I want. I still have some issues to resolve, but the great Marcus Aurelius said "What stands in the way, becomes the way" and I believe him. I'm going all the way, this time.

Time

Time is the greatest master of all. You can't buy time no matter how much money you have. I spent a lot of time from my life on wrong activities, on wrong people, on wrong places. But it's always the right time, to reclaim your time ahead. This small talk after work with people you have no real connection with. This time that you spend, during your transportation, to look for useless updates on Facebook and funny YouTube videos. The time in the nights before sleeping, checking the what I call "Where are they now?", for friends and old colleagues and classmates and ex gfs. I started to use all this time better. Reading in the bus, meet people that I appreciate now, avoiding small talks with anyone. You can't master yourself, if you can't master your time. I started using the Google calendar and it's really useful. I am under control of my time. But I still give unlimited time to those people I enjoy their company. Because, friendship is one of the most important things in life, according to Epicurus. Time spent with friends and those you love is never a waste. Don't be mean on this.

Thanos

One of the last jobs I did to survive, before leaving Greece, was attaching posters in the center of Athens. Difficult job. I could write a book with stories from this period, with incidents happened to me and people I met. Out of thousands posters I attached, this was my favourite. Thanos Anestopoulos was already one of my favourite artists since he was singing for Diafana Krina (=Transparent Lillies). I kept one and now is onto the door of my small wardrobe in Nikaia. In the other door is a poster from the last ever concert of FF.C. at An Club, that I "stole" from Kavouras entrance in Exarchia.

I attended one of the concerts in the poster. It was magic night that lasted till really early in the morning. My only and most precious night, listening to his voice, singing his poetic creations. There won't be another Thanos. He died of cancer on the 3rd September 2016. His memory and lyrics will remain forever.

Some lyrics, I obviously translated poorly from his "This is not a love song", in remembrance.

" ... Love is the kiss to the defeated friends.

Love have the poor roses and the white lilies.

Love is the smile at the edge of our silence.

Love have the wings, that take you away from death..."

Small thought #3

There might be a positive response, a negative response or not a response at all. In any case it doesn't matter. Your responses or non responses, won't affect a thing in the course of the planet. It might affect me, but I don't care, so nobody does, really.

Some Music

My childhood cassette compilations from 5000Volt at Krinis Square. At friend's houses from an Mk2 stylus. In a bed at the corner of a room, with my head to the East, from a small Sony Discman. In night shifts in Suda Bay, guarding a gate, looking at the boats leaving for Piraeus, holding an M1 Garand rifle and having an en block clip in the pocket. Downloads from LimeWire and Pirate Bay. Concerts with or without ticket. Vinyls from Vangelis and CDs from Zacharias in Monastiraki. Spendin my first salary, every month on Metropolis and Happening. Morning cleaning at the Orange Bar with requests to the DJ. In the darkest hours when life seemed so hard to take and in the times of happiness and glory when all energy had to be released. This is my music. I know every single word of these songs, in every language, every meaning hidden or not, every breath the artist takes before start singing, every single beating of the drum, every touch of the pick in the guitar chords. This is music tattooed on my brain, that will never leave me and no one will ever take from me.

It's here

Small thought #2

They say that time heals all wounds. Only the physical ones I believe and not always. The wounds in your soul stay there forever. They just don't cause you pain anymore.

Time, though, is useful for another reason. It helps you see the situations you experienced from a different point of view. It's like putting a puzzle together and you find pieces that they were hidden. They were always in front of you, really. You never seen them. And with time you do. And you have a clear picture. A real picture. The truth. And truth sets you free.

Fellaini

Ever let your hair grow long? For some time you look like Marouane Fellaini. There's nothing you can do to make your hair look nice. Then after a while they are the right length and they start look nice. That's my case right now. I feel like I'm in a cocoon, ready to transform, from a caterpillar to a butterfly. Losing so much weight makes my body look weird. My shirts start to look so big on me, my pants are falling down, a double chin is more visible now, but is mostly skin and not fat and I look like I have a hole on each side of my belly.

The same happens inside me. I'm changing every day more and more. I am in good mood, laugh more, connect with people more. I still have moments of depression or nostalgia, I am getting sad with the behaviour of some people, but I keep pushing myself forward thinking two sentences. There's a reasoning behind every action. Be tolerant with others and strict with yourself. I'll be totally free and fly soon, I think. Discipline and consistency.

Some Greek...

I was reading yesterday some statements of Sokratis Papastathopoulos on the "Metro" newspaper. He was talking about Luiz. Amongst others he mentioned that Luiz could speak some Greek. All the Greeks know what it means that a foreigner speaks some Greek: Malaka, Pousti, Kalimera, ti kaneis, souvlaki, mousaka. In the case of Luiz could be: "Kane pasa, re malaka."

Bristol

I went to Bristol today to meet a friend. It was a lovely, warm sunny day. I should have taken my sunglasses with me. And I finally seen Banksy's "Girl with the pierced eardrum". It's beautiful. It really is.

Small thought #1

How beautiful and how much time and effort it takes when two people, meet, get to know and become confident with each other, share their small stories, spent endless moments together, fell in love and act as one person.

How ugly and how quick these two people demolish all this.

Andreas

I'll share a small and weird but true story. While on the Navy for my obligatory  duty, I met this guy, Andreas. He was an ok, smily person. By birth, his body was asymmetrical. Left side limps were smaller than the right ones. He was wearing size 42 boot on one leg and 45 on the other. The Navy released him on the recruitment day, on medical reasons. But his father insisted Andreas to be recruited because it would be a disgrace for a Cretan not to serve his homeland. After a lot of pressure, including politicians interference, he joined the Navy, in an assistant role always. Yet he was proud to wear his uniform. He was also proud for his life before the Navy. He was a sailor in a boat of a big Cretan company, those who carry thousands of tourists from mainland Greece to Crete. He has worked for a while in a boat of the company that was in the route of Patra to Ancona as well. I saw tens of times his black and white photos from his time in Venezia and while on duty on the boat. I could tell hundreds of funny stories from Andreas.

It was a Sunday morning, exactly five years after I finish my duty in the Navy. I called my friends to meet for a coffee to celebrate, in a way, that event. I stopped in a kiosk to buy cigarettes. I don't know why, but I bought a newspaper as well. Coffee time in Greece means you meet around a table and chat for hours about politics and football and you gossiping about those not present. I opened the newspaper at some point. Read the sports pages and then just turned the pages randomly. I read the title of a small article in the inside pages. "Sailor finds tragic death after falling from a great height". It was Andreas who fell from the funnel of the same boat that he was always telling us about.

Clans

Have you ever played "Clash of clans"? I'll give a quick description for those who haven't. It's this game that you start from zero and you build walls and buildings and upgrade them and create an army and fight with others, trying to destroy what they built. Then you become a member of a clan. And you go to clan war.

Isn't life like this? You start from zero and you grow, you built your life, you own more and more material stuff, you become a fan of a football team, you believe in a religion, you follow a political ideology. You make friends and your friends are like you most of the times and you are all look like members of a clan. Occasionally, you might go to a form of war with those that are not like you. You might start it or the others will. You want your team to win, you consider heretic anyone who follows another religion, you defend with passion your political views. Humans love to belong to groups. And all those in charge, politicians, religious leaders, the media, the big companies love this more. It gives them power and money. Think about how many times you had an argument or a fight over politics, religion, football, music or whatever. We constantly fight for something, even for the most trivial thing. iOS or Android? Black or white? Oasis or Blur? Capitalism or Communism? Yes or no to death penalty? We always take a side. And only the few earn from this.

I'll tell you what. I'm tired of that. Right now, I feel like I started from zero again. There's a small problem though. I feel like a homeless man, that a house is given to him. The house is huge and filled with the stuff of the previous owner. Can you use the clothes you find inside? Was the previous owner the same size or even gender with you? What will you do? Will you throw everything away and start filling the house again? Will you inspect every item and decide what to keep and what to throw away? Will you keep everything including the identity of the previous owner?

I chose to do the second. And it takes time. And it's hard and difficult. Waking up, opening your mind, leaving habits and beliefs of years behind you, is hard and difficult. But now I know I'm doing the right thing, at last. Cause I see the changes in my life. And as the days passing the changes are faster and faster and faster. And I don't hope for anything anymore, I do the best I can for what I would only hope in the past. And I laugh at myself every time I read on Facebook memories, repeated posts about being "in a good way", that "everything starts now", that "it's reset time" and all those bullshit I was only writing, but never working seriously for.

I still have long way to walk, but I'm happy and proud walking it for real. And I want to give and get love. And I want to share stuff and experiences with everyone. And I want to create. And I want to learn more and more. And I want my house and then my neighborhood and then my city and then the world to be more beautiful and colourful and cooperative. And I'm thankful to the one who triggered all this.

By the way, I deleted "Clash of clans" from my phone. Any suggestions for a game that you create something only?

An open window to the digital world

I feel the need to express myself. I can't draw, I can't sing, I can't create music and definitely can't dance. I really think that I can write. Well, writing in English will be a bit more difficult than writing in my native Greek, but I'll try anyway.

So many things happened the last few months that turned my small world upside down. Bad and good things at the same time. I'm taking control of my life, though, little by little. A small step forward every single day. I consider the need of expression really important to keep going. Yes, there is Facebook that I have a certain audience obviously, but I'm tired of it. And it looks so empty to me the last few months. So I decided that this will be my vault from now on. I can write anything I want and everyone can see it, not just my Facebook friends. I will sometimes post some photos or videos, even though I love doing this on my Instagram account. I consider this as my open window to the digital world.


If you are reading this, my dear unknown, I hope you will be part of this. Read and comment. Participate. Take part in a digital dialogue. Write your views. Share your stories. Welcome.