my ajar door

The door is a jar. Can you imagine something flat containing the volume of a jar of marmelade? You just did. If you can imagine it, it must oh it does exist. And where you expect the happy ending of all of your imaginings you realize. You realize what has not been realized. Or do you?
Everything is fluid. And the abstractness is not something new. When there is distance eyes will be forgotten they say. Ha
Who are they to say?
The word "forget" is tricky like the thing that caused it to exist. You get the "for," the reason for which you wanted to get what cannot get now or you are getting to. And the abstractness continues. I am distracted today. Circles on me need ticking but I cannot do much but look for some other way to live in another country.
Love resides in me and in another country where it drinks late night cups of non-existence. Because if you cannot see it it does not existe. But if you can visualize it maybe it will or it does. Only time for the time being does not agree with it being synchronized according to my desire.
If you got what I mean for... then you cannot be what I should forget.
The door is ajar. The windows open on one side of it and on its other side have caused a draft and the explanation of ajar is as simple as that....

spring of death-birth

Have you looked at the ending of the words "death" and "birth"? Maybe this does not hold for all languages, but this arbitrary similarity of "th" may imply these two states have much in common: life: start and end. And "d" is the opposite sign of "b" and "ea" and "i" have the same pronounciation in the word: almost.
Where am I getting at? I am looking at the green tree across my window.. I left it two weeks ago with no leaves and back now charlotte street is green. The little leaves are only the beginning of a flourishing that is felth through the "Frou-frou" breeze entering through my window on the keys of my laptop.

It is the top of a lap I am ebracing tonight , the melancholy of death and the melancholy of life. A song which plays on and never dies and never lives :hope. Hope to hop to the summer, the heat and a true night of eternity.

How do you identify with all that? I know you do. You and I do not know why but we do . And the reason why we do, which we do not know, makes it worth breathing tonight and the rest of nights and days to come.
Nothing is unrequited and nothing is forever lost. We are all in the same company of misery and of lovelihood.

Smile at the man or woman or baby-girl or baby-boy that looks at you through the window of a bus. They smile back.

Happy Easter ..... Lucky Spring!

We are doing this for our children

An advice: sometimes it is better to ask for the moon and the stars. Look above and the shine will never let you look down, bedazzled entagled into the hair of the night the demons of a balcony inside of which you sleep into a hill of a forehead...
Sometimes it is better to ask for the moon and the stars because there is no because. Poison is beat with poison. Drink up before it is finished and then all you have left is milk,mildness and a mania you never indulged into.

But remember in this Easter, which tomorrow dies to give us our new birth again, put your mask on smile and do not think what happens when he, Eros or Thanatos, enters the door...

Without you realizing he will appear on the Right. He will greet you : Hello, countess, do you not greet me anymore?

pleasure, immortality of the soul and the phrygian slave..

And these are my contemplations...I chose to fly tomorrow who knows what landing awaits me... Every time it is different. It is abit like falling in love. You choose to go to another destination, hopefully one where you will enjoy yourself, then on the plane the food could be great or disgusting and you might not even care if it is either, you only care for that landing. You might have to pay extra because your ticket got lost in the post. And they will not re-issue you one. But you pay beccause you want to fly, you promised yourself you would. The extra luggage could be another problem. You might be charged or the extra weight you carry may be ignored, or you could be travelling lightly yet there is still that anxiety if if if.... You are also worried that you might miss the flight, you check the departure scree, you check if the taxi will be on time, if the train will too, if the the alarm will ring for you to wake up and get ready before that precious plane flies without you.. Additionally, there is the concern of who will be sitting next to you: someone who smells maybe, someone who is too arrogant, someone who chats you up and you do not want to be chatted up or someone who you want to chat you up but will not.
All of this then and more you worry about when you fly...to land
I have flown many times but I have fallen only once...
Once you fall you are so scared you might fall again and you are so scared you might not fall ever again...
It is all because flying is the safest means of trasport...
The pleasure is in that moment where you look at the alps or when you are lost too in the clouds and you begin to realize how high you are from earth... isnt this fun?
The immortality of the soul comes in and comes out as soon as you are between sky and earth and you wonder where is the limit...
The phrygian slave is your alter ego : you want your travel to be care-free...
I will take the leap of faith that this morning that I will be flying again towards my desired destination.
I am in love with Thessaloniki...

The remains signify the remains

Warning: the following text may contain words, feelings of concepts the reader might find offensive.


Listening to songs romantic: nobody does it better... than you reminding me of the unfullfilled romance... whatever the self I saw of myself those days a self I did not expect to ever reveal myself... You look at the external and you see nothing that would have attracted you then, you try look for the internal and you find it there but in a vaccum of nowhere... What do I mean by these abstractions? Abstract is you. It is the abstract that I fell for and then the abstract because of its nature could not hold me to breathe... So here we are back into the concrete I am sitting on the love-chair from IKEA ( advertisement not intended) into a red-brick London apartment building on a street where Businessmen smile at me so much I almost fall off the road and sometimes, like this morning I did! And the remains remain of a sketch but hey it was only a sketch and now let me get back to the drawing... the full body of this man that I now possess and I am not in love... because labels are just bullshit... and no I am not in a relationship but yes I am not single but I am with and I am without and I am double ... and it is all real because I never believed in it without seeing it first with my own eyes become true..
The advice of the day: no more suspension of disbelief into bullshit... just watch Basic instinct..

neck pain

So I was excited with my progress. My progress of understanding the different distances between the levels of a building. My comprehension levels reached ecstasy the last two days with rhetorics of costume "analogynaicozing" gender politics. You know what... psychosomatic is a dangerous word... that is what I am I think... I have overextended my antennas these two days and now all I am left is unbelievable neck pain, no speech and I am in no position to speak what I think... no combination no juxtaposition... and two dreams while Im struglling to swallow in my sleep:
Dream one: I cannot speak, there is no voice coming out of my mouth and I have to enter the other person's body in order to speak to them so I actually become them.
Dream two: I am speaking online with an old close enemy and love and I write LOL and he reads Love and asks me : Does the the rate decrease love?

He is invoked when I am in pain: what a pain in the neck he is...
I am happy i have reduced him just to that:)