Sunday, March 04, 2007
help
I was at a loss in Japan
did not know what to pick at the super market
rabbit
the aztec word for rabbit is tochtli
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Borat
"When I buy my wife at start she was cook good, her vagine work well, and she strong on plow...but after 3 years when she wass 15, then she become weak, her voice become deep, Borat.., Borat...,she receive a hair on her chest and her vagine hang like sleeve of wizard"
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
2007!!!
Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.
(RADIOHEAD, Fitter Happier-OK Computer, June 1997)
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.
(RADIOHEAD, Fitter Happier-OK Computer, June 1997)
Saturday, December 02, 2006
"The Lady Who Sailed The Soul" by Cordwainer Smith
I.
The story ran—how did the story run? Everyone knew the reference to Helen
America and Mr. Grey-no-more, but no one knew exactly how it happened.
Their names were welded to the glittering timeless jewelry of romance.
Sometimes they were compared to Heloise and Abelard, whose story had been
found among books in a long-buried library. Other ages were to compare their
life with the weird, ugly-lovely story of the Go-Captain Taliano and the Lady
Dolores Oh.
Out of it all, two things stood forth—their love and the image of the great
sails, tissue-metal wings with which the bodies of people finally fluttered out
among the stars.
Mention him, and others knew her. Mention her, and they knew him. He was
the first of the inbound sailors, and she was the lady who sailed The Soul.
It was lucky that people lost their pictures. The romantic hero was a very
young-looking man, prematurely old and still quite sick when the romance
came. And Helen America, she was a freak, but a nice one: a grim, solemn, sad,
little brunette who had been born amid the laughter of humanity. She was not
the tall, confident heroine of the actresses who later played her.
She was, however, a wonderful sailor. That much was true. And with her
body and mind she loved Mr. Grey-no-more, showing a devotion which the ages
can neither surpass nor forget. History may scrape off the patina of their names
and appearances, but even history can do no more than brighten the love of
Helen America and Mr. Grey-no-more.
Both of them, one must remember, were sailors.
The story ran—how did the story run? Everyone knew the reference to Helen
America and Mr. Grey-no-more, but no one knew exactly how it happened.
Their names were welded to the glittering timeless jewelry of romance.
Sometimes they were compared to Heloise and Abelard, whose story had been
found among books in a long-buried library. Other ages were to compare their
life with the weird, ugly-lovely story of the Go-Captain Taliano and the Lady
Dolores Oh.
Out of it all, two things stood forth—their love and the image of the great
sails, tissue-metal wings with which the bodies of people finally fluttered out
among the stars.
Mention him, and others knew her. Mention her, and they knew him. He was
the first of the inbound sailors, and she was the lady who sailed The Soul.
It was lucky that people lost their pictures. The romantic hero was a very
young-looking man, prematurely old and still quite sick when the romance
came. And Helen America, she was a freak, but a nice one: a grim, solemn, sad,
little brunette who had been born amid the laughter of humanity. She was not
the tall, confident heroine of the actresses who later played her.
She was, however, a wonderful sailor. That much was true. And with her
body and mind she loved Mr. Grey-no-more, showing a devotion which the ages
can neither surpass nor forget. History may scrape off the patina of their names
and appearances, but even history can do no more than brighten the love of
Helen America and Mr. Grey-no-more.
Both of them, one must remember, were sailors.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Inbetween
I am in a inbetween
I am in Paris and not actually in Paris
I love inbetweens
There is only yourself (to blame?)
And some other strange creatures
I think humans, probably, but I am not so sure...
You have only yourself to face, sometimes not even that
Great comforting welcomed fog over everything
Time seems to stand still
Glimpses of laughter, recognition, sparcles of worn-out feelings and images
Silence
Vast places
Αχαρτογράφητες περιοχές που αποκτούν ξαφνικά υπόσταση
Έκπληξη, μα μόνο για λίγο, σαν το χρυσόψαρο
Μια φουσκάλα σπάει και είναι σαν να μην υπήρξε
Αλλά ήσουν εκεί και μάλλον την είδες
Κάτι που περίμενες ΚΑΙΡΟ ΤΩΡΑ
Γίνεται μπροστά στα μάτια σου
Είσαι εκεί και τελειώνει πριν να το καταλάβεις
Απλώνεσαι
Σε όλα αυτά που πέρασαν και πια τα βλέπεις με άλλα μάτια
Και νομίζεις πως θα είναι για πάντα
Μέχρι την επόμενη φορά
Friday, September 08, 2006
Now that I know
Saturday, August 12, 2006
so long....
Πάω να με συναντήσω στην Αμοργό...
