'when i'm being mean about religion, i'm being mean about where religion goes wrong. i'm not just being mean to people for having faith. i think about this shit a lot. but to bring it back to what you were saying, i do want to be a humanist, and i do want to point out to people that beauty is in the real world and not in the fake one, and how the language of spirituality is empty. i mean, i'm not on a mission. i'm on a mission to just play fun gigs and make people have a fucking riot of a time. but the bigger my audience gets, the more i have to take responsibility for what i'm saying.'
the rapture's not happening -- and it's my nameday -- as it is for all people named helen or constantine (some byproducts of our superstitious past ain't that bad).
snip deprivation of the ability to speak is more like an attack of impotence, or the amputation of part of the personality. to a great degree, in public and private, i “was” my voice. all the rituals and etiquette of conversation, from clearing the throat in preparation for the telling of an extremely long and taxing joke to (in younger days) trying to make my proposals more persuasive as i sank the tone by a strategic octave of shame, were innate and essential to me. i have never been able to sing, but i could once recite poetry and quote prose and was sometimes even asked to do so. and timing is everything: the exquisite moment when one can break in and cap a story, or turn a line for a laugh, or ridicule an opponent. i lived for moments like that. now, if i want to enter a conversation, i have to attract attention in some other way, and live with the awful fact that people are then listening “sympathetically.” at least they don’t have to pay attention for long: i can’t keep it up and anyway can’t stand to. /snip
Red Light District - End Of The Line by fdaallday Written 2006. Inspired by an Australian Western, Italian Moon, strange vocal collaborations and grit! Vocals by Juliette Angeli Sax solo by Andres Ortiz Guitar by Abby "Sally Kings" Markson Keys, Pearl Acoustic Drums, Percussion, Bass Organ & additional vocals by Shok Produced, Recorded & Mixed by Shok
i had gone to chios island for some errands for family. but the office in athina was impatient and my birthday, as always, irrelevant.
so i needed a ticket on the ferry but funds were low -- i'd have to spend the night out in the open, on some unused corner of the deck.
i don't remember how many hours lay ahead and my spirits were low. i dug deep into my sleeping bag. the ship hummed and the breeze was warm. i was disoriented by the twilight between the bright ferry lights and the black sea. the only stability was from the cool july full moon magnified by the horizon.
i am still amazed by how easily i was able to sleep way back then. but even then, i woke easily.
chairs scraped the deck and i rubbed my dried-out contacts. i didn't recognize my intruder.
but he had friends.
and musical instruments of torture.
so i sighed because, more often than not, greek music conspires with the full moon to plague me with lunatic migraines.
i didn't know of papazoglou then -- i'm still not a fan. but chios had just enjoyed his music in a concert that i had disinterestedly missed.
the deck was no stage. it was just a floor -- and the furniture was worn. the mezedakia were served on paper plates and plastic cups and plainly labeled bottles held the wine. and a relaxed group of friends chatted in a mixed language of stories, jokes and, alien to me, combinations of notes.
and i received my best-ever birthday concert.
yet.
μα γιατί το τραγούδι να 'ναι λυπητερό με μιας θαρρείς κι απ' την καρδιά μου ξέκοψε κι αυτή τη στιγμή που πλημμυρίζω χαρά ανέβηκε ως τα χείλη μου και με 'πνιξε φυλάξου για το τέλος θα μου πεις
σ' αγαπάω μα δεν έχω μιλιά να στο πω κι αυτό είναι ένας καημός αβάσταχτος λιώνω στον πόνο γιατί νιώθω κι εγώ ο δρόμος που τραβάμε είναι αδιάβατος κουράγιο θα περάσει θα μου πεις
πώς μπορώ να ξεχάσω τα λυτά της μαλλιά την άμμο που σαν καταρράχτης έλουζε καθώς έσκυβε πάνω μου χιλιάδες φιλιά διαμάντια που απλόχερα μου χάριζε θα πάω κι ας μου βγει και σε κακό
σε ποιαν έκσταση απάνω σε χορό μαγικό μπορεί ένα τέτοιο πλάσμα να γεννήθηκε από ποιο μακρινό αστέρι είναι το φως που μες τα δυο της μάτια πήγε κρύφτηκε κι εγώ ο τυχερός που το 'χει δει
μες το βλέμμα της ένας τόσο δα ουρανός αστράφτει συννεφιάζει αναδιπλώνεται μα σαν πέφτει η νύχτα πλημμυρίζει με φως φεγγάρι αυγουστιάτικο υψώνεται και φέγγει από μέσα η φυλακή
πώς μπορώ να ξεχάσω τα λυτά της μαλλιά την άμμο που σαν καταρράχτης έλουζε καθώς έσκυβε πάνω μου χιλιάδες φιλιά διαμάντια που απλόχερα μου χάριζε θα πάω κι ας μου βγει και σε κακό
last night i went to an imiskoumbria (on facebook) concert -- a greek hiphop band (mithridatis, mentzelos and pritanis) -- one of mr.G's favorites. sexpyr opened for them, with djvanilla.
