Άχθος αρούρης είσαι ρε,
κι έχεις γι' αχίλλειο πτέρνα την καρδιά σου
ζεις βίο αβίωτο
γη και ύδωρ παραδίδεις με κάθε νέα απειλή
το Γόρδιο Δεσμό δεν κατάφερες να λύσεις
με μια Δαμόκλειο Σπάθη να σε διαφεντεύει
η πόρτα του Δούρειου Ίππου πια κλειστή
και τα δρακόντεια μέτρα σε τρομάζουν.
Εξ απαλών ονύχων σε εγκαταλείψανε οι πάντες
κι η Λύκαινα σε απαρνήθη
Τα έπεα πτερόεντα που μου προσδίδεις είναι στο λόγο μου η άμυνά σου
γιατί επί ξυρού ακμής σε βρήκα και σε μάζεψα.
Ήξεις αφήξεις σε ετούτη τη ζωή χίλιες φορές θνήξεις.
Ιδού η Ρόδος Ιδού και το Ποίημα αγαπημένε μου εαυτέ
κάθε μέρα να σε σκοτώνω με αρχαίες κατάρες και δαιμονισμούς
για να σε ξαναγεννήσω χίλιες φορές
σαν τον ιστό της Πηνελόπης
κι όστις θέλει οπίσω μου ελθεί
στην κλίνη ετούτη του Προκρούστη
που εσύ ονόμασες « ζωή»
κι εγώ της Πανδώρας υπέροχο Κουτί
καν γλαύκας εις Αθήνας κομίζω
είς στους μυρίους,
αν εννοήσει τίς ειμί,
κύβος ερρίφθη δις.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
απόφθεγμα 15
"κάθε αντίδραση προς ένα κατεστημένο, γραπτή ή προφορική, ειρηνική ή βίαιη, σε εξαναγκάζει σε επιβεβαίωση και επαναθεμελίωσή του. Προκαλείς επίσης επαγρύπνισή του, δώρο για το οποίο το σύστημα αυτό σε ευγνωμονεί."
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Απάντηση στο Μενέλαο Λουντέμη
Αγαπητέ κε Λουντέμη,
το βιβλίο σου "΄Ενα παιδί μετράει τα άστρα" μου έχει σημαδέψει τα παιδικά μου χρόνια και γενικά την αντίληψή μου. Επειδή όμως μου έχει κάπως διαστρεβλώσει και τη λογική μου αντίληψη περί "απείρου", θα ήθελα, με όλο το σεβασμό να σου απαντήσω το εξής:
Γενική είναι η εντύπωση ότι οι αστέρες που είναι ορατοί με γυμνό μάτι είναι άπειροι και ότι θα είναι μάταιη κάθε προσπάθεια καταμέτρησής των. Και όμως, η εντύπωση αυτή είναι εσφαλμένη διότι όλοι οι αστέρες που φαίνονται με γυμνό οφθαλμό είναι 7.107 που κατανέμονται στα μεγέθη 1ο (φωτεινότερο) έως 6ο (αμυδρότερο) ως εξής: 1ο 20, 2ο 69, 3ο 205, 4ο 473, 5ο 1291 και 6ο 5.049, σύνολο 7.107 αστέρες. Έτσι ενώ το πλήθος των αστέρων που μπορούν να παρατηρηθούν με γυμνό μάτι συνήθως μέχρι 6ου μεγέθους (χωρίς αυτό να είναι και απόλυτο*) είναι 7.000 περίπου. Για κάποιο που ίσως έχει αετίσιο (ή αν θες γατίσιο) βλέμμα, μέχρι 12ου μεγέθους είναι 4Χ106 και για τον Σούπερμαν μέχρι 21ου μεγέθους είναι 5Χ109
Βέβαια η έννοια άπειρο θα μπορούσε να διακαιολογηθεί κάπως αν σκεφτούμε ότι μόνο το 6ο μέγεθος λάμψης αστέρος θεωρείται γενικά το όριο της ανθρώπινης όρασης σε πολύ καλές συνθήκες παρατήρησης. Κοντά σε μια πόλη όμως το όριο είναι περίπου το 3ο μέγεθος μόνο. Σε πολύ εξαιρετικές συνθήκες (Λατινική Αμερική) κάποιοι ίσως καταφέρουν να δούν και λίγο περισσότερα αστέρια.
Αχ, κύριε Μενέλαε, για 7,000 αστεράκια έθρεψες τρεις γενεές μαθητών σε Κύπρο και Ελλάδα με το μεγαλείο της Δημιουργίας του Θεού, ενώ ξέχασες να αναφέρεις τη μικρότητα των αισθήσεων και της γνώσης του ανθρωπάκου που είμαστε εγώ κι εσύ.
Ευτυχώς που η επιστήμη πλέον ξεθάρρεψε και έδωσε τις πρώτες ρεαλιστικές και χειροπιαστές ενδείξεις για την πιθανότητα ζωής σε άλλους πλανήτες.
Ένας αναγνώστης σου
Saturday, December 04, 2010
αγαπητέ φίλε με όλο το σεβασμό που σου τρέφω, θα κάνω ένα σχόλιο από το πουθενά για τους δικούς μου λόγους.
Αν κάνεις ένα γρήγορο πέρασμα από όλες τις αναρτήσεις του μπλογκ θα δεις ότι είναι μοιρασμένο σε αγγλικά και ελληνικά κομμάτια από πεζογραφήματα, θεατρικά, επικά ποιήματα, μικρά ποιήματα, αποσπάσματα από βιβλία μου κλπ.
Με σιγουριά σου λέω ότι τα ελληνικά μου κομμάτια στοχεύουν σε ελληνικό αναγνωστικό κοινό και τα αγγλικά μου σε αγγλικό κοινό.
Τώρα, αν κάποιοι αναγνώστες μου Κύπριοι ή Έλληνες γνωρίζουν καλά αγγλικά (που συμβαίνει σε κάποις περιπτώσεις) είναι ευπρόσδεκτοι καιστα αγγλικά μου πονήματα. Το ίδιο συμβαίνει και στους αγγλόφωνους αναγνώστες μου. Δεν συγχύζω τις δύο σχολές γραφής και είμαι ο ίδιος διαφορετικός στο ύφος γραφής μου και στις απαιτήσεις της γλωσσικής, λογοτεχνικής και πολιτικής κουλτούρας της κάθε μιας από τις δύο γλώσσες.
Οι culturally aware συγγραφείς (αυτό δεν μου αρέσει να το λέω στα ελληνικά) πιστεύω είναι οι μόνοι που έχουν το "δικαίωμα" να γράφουν σε δεύτερες ή τρίτες γλώσσες. Γιατί οι υπόλοιποι γράφουν στη μητρική τους για να τους βγει καλό και μετά το μεταφράζουν για να κάνουν... "διεθνή καριέρα" και γράφουν μικροκοσμικές ισχνογραφίες.
Αυτό δεν θα το πάθω. Λόγω επίγνωσης.
Κι αν ποτέ μεταφραστεί κάποιο έργο μου είτε από ελληνικά σε αγγλικά είτε αντίστροφα, θα γίνει υπό την επίβλεψή μου, αν δεν το κάνω ο ίδιος.
Γιατί πίστεψε με, οι μεταφράσεις αδικούν τουλάχιστον τους μισούς από τους συμβολισμούς ή το λεκτικό χιούμορ του συγγραφέα. Κι αυτό υπονομεύει το έργο.
Δεν πιστεύω στην παγκοσμιοποίηση αλλά στη διεθνοποίηση μιας κουλτούρας. Γι' αυτό έχω καθήκον μου να είμαι πολύ...πάρα πολύ προσεκτικός!
Σε ευχαριστώ αν με διάβασες προσεκτικά.
Αν κάνεις ένα γρήγορο πέρασμα από όλες τις αναρτήσεις του μπλογκ θα δεις ότι είναι μοιρασμένο σε αγγλικά και ελληνικά κομμάτια από πεζογραφήματα, θεατρικά, επικά ποιήματα, μικρά ποιήματα, αποσπάσματα από βιβλία μου κλπ.
Με σιγουριά σου λέω ότι τα ελληνικά μου κομμάτια στοχεύουν σε ελληνικό αναγνωστικό κοινό και τα αγγλικά μου σε αγγλικό κοινό.
Τώρα, αν κάποιοι αναγνώστες μου Κύπριοι ή Έλληνες γνωρίζουν καλά αγγλικά (που συμβαίνει σε κάποις περιπτώσεις) είναι ευπρόσδεκτοι καιστα αγγλικά μου πονήματα. Το ίδιο συμβαίνει και στους αγγλόφωνους αναγνώστες μου. Δεν συγχύζω τις δύο σχολές γραφής και είμαι ο ίδιος διαφορετικός στο ύφος γραφής μου και στις απαιτήσεις της γλωσσικής, λογοτεχνικής και πολιτικής κουλτούρας της κάθε μιας από τις δύο γλώσσες.
Οι culturally aware συγγραφείς (αυτό δεν μου αρέσει να το λέω στα ελληνικά) πιστεύω είναι οι μόνοι που έχουν το "δικαίωμα" να γράφουν σε δεύτερες ή τρίτες γλώσσες. Γιατί οι υπόλοιποι γράφουν στη μητρική τους για να τους βγει καλό και μετά το μεταφράζουν για να κάνουν... "διεθνή καριέρα" και γράφουν μικροκοσμικές ισχνογραφίες.
Αυτό δεν θα το πάθω. Λόγω επίγνωσης.
Κι αν ποτέ μεταφραστεί κάποιο έργο μου είτε από ελληνικά σε αγγλικά είτε αντίστροφα, θα γίνει υπό την επίβλεψή μου, αν δεν το κάνω ο ίδιος.
Γιατί πίστεψε με, οι μεταφράσεις αδικούν τουλάχιστον τους μισούς από τους συμβολισμούς ή το λεκτικό χιούμορ του συγγραφέα. Κι αυτό υπονομεύει το έργο.
Δεν πιστεύω στην παγκοσμιοποίηση αλλά στη διεθνοποίηση μιας κουλτούρας. Γι' αυτό έχω καθήκον μου να είμαι πολύ...πάρα πολύ προσεκτικός!
Σε ευχαριστώ αν με διάβασες προσεκτικά.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Peripheral Shine
I cannot count the facets of the dominant diamond; this bracelet has too many stones,
which are the real, where are the fake ones?
I cannot control the colours, I struggle
-the shroud-
The light around submerges into this dimension and engulfs my oxygen
-the gnome-
I forget the linearity of the rainbow.
Is this particular shine malfunctioning?
Does darkness interfere?
The bracelet tightens around the wrist.
Twenty-five deep slashes of my flesh, will they flash me out?
I cannot count the facets of the whole, my eyes are ravened,
the pain indorses,
where’s the neck?
Shouldn’t this hungry paleness of the skin absorb the glorious periphery of danger?
Diamonds should be worthier for fewer facets.
-I would say-
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
No drunks in the pub on entry.
He was a celebrity. I am pretty sure he was one. Can’t you remember how they did not show him on the news, and how the newspapers did not reveal his real identity?
Aah, and the gossip shows, at noon, how could they not even try to speculate or give hints about who he was? But I have to write his story. I just have to. Or should I write…her story? I am not really sure if it was a man or a woman. The facts will undoubtedly reveal the gender of the doer. At some point, they will I am sure. But even if they don’t, it will still be a very interesting story. So here it goes…
On a sunny day, really hot for the time of the year, a man… ehm, someone was walking the path down kakopetria to meet another person. The reason for their meeting has not yet been revealed by the police, and I don’t think it ever will. This is where I base my assumption that the woman – or man is a celebrity. Suddenly the figure started running. At the beginning it was a calm run, perhaps that of a rush. But then it grew faster, those legs started moving very fast. This person was young, definitely young, all this energy to run away, not to mention the actual deed. Which was to… Well I am still not confident I have the whole picture of the murder, but it is easy to find out, asking here and there… So I will still remain out and about the actual narration until I get more information about the facts.
The rain on the stone path did not intimidate the runner the least. A steady pace fast run towards the small bridge and then to the left… or to the right? Or is the bridge to the right but the person headed left and up again to the Mills? Well, as it is irrelevant to the story as we don’t know where and who this person was meeting with, we can leave it there.
Frenzy. A master run in the rain and then… oh, ehm, I did say it was a sunny and very hot day before, eh? Ah, well, forget that point. It was a normal day, not too much heat and no rain at all. So let’s stick to the main facts. I will call the station and get right back to you with more information.
…Hey, here I am again. If I remember well I was beginning my novel and had to learn some more about this murder before I continued. So, where did I leave it, guys? Aah, I remember… it was at the point where Agatha was… Aah, yes, now I remember more! I was telling you that I wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman? Well, now I have full details! It was a woman. But unfortunately she wasn’t a celebrity but a tourist. So, as I was saying, as she was sitting in Agros square, someone came to meet her. Another woman probably, someone who was travelling with the protagonist of this massacre.
Aah, and the gossip shows, at noon, how could they not even try to speculate or give hints about who he was? But I have to write his story. I just have to. Or should I write…her story? I am not really sure if it was a man or a woman. The facts will undoubtedly reveal the gender of the doer. At some point, they will I am sure. But even if they don’t, it will still be a very interesting story. So here it goes…
On a sunny day, really hot for the time of the year, a man… ehm, someone was walking the path down kakopetria to meet another person. The reason for their meeting has not yet been revealed by the police, and I don’t think it ever will. This is where I base my assumption that the woman – or man is a celebrity. Suddenly the figure started running. At the beginning it was a calm run, perhaps that of a rush. But then it grew faster, those legs started moving very fast. This person was young, definitely young, all this energy to run away, not to mention the actual deed. Which was to… Well I am still not confident I have the whole picture of the murder, but it is easy to find out, asking here and there… So I will still remain out and about the actual narration until I get more information about the facts.
The rain on the stone path did not intimidate the runner the least. A steady pace fast run towards the small bridge and then to the left… or to the right? Or is the bridge to the right but the person headed left and up again to the Mills? Well, as it is irrelevant to the story as we don’t know where and who this person was meeting with, we can leave it there.
Frenzy. A master run in the rain and then… oh, ehm, I did say it was a sunny and very hot day before, eh? Ah, well, forget that point. It was a normal day, not too much heat and no rain at all. So let’s stick to the main facts. I will call the station and get right back to you with more information.
…Hey, here I am again. If I remember well I was beginning my novel and had to learn some more about this murder before I continued. So, where did I leave it, guys? Aah, I remember… it was at the point where Agatha was… Aah, yes, now I remember more! I was telling you that I wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman? Well, now I have full details! It was a woman. But unfortunately she wasn’t a celebrity but a tourist. So, as I was saying, as she was sitting in Agros square, someone came to meet her. Another woman probably, someone who was travelling with the protagonist of this massacre.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Birth of a thirty-year-old virgin
Chorus:
The island of Cyprus has always kept its secrets
Guilty words of little kids, sentences of the elder,
in sealed lips they were trapped of sovereign crowds.
The story we are about to tell took place in a Mesaoria village
but the wind that blew along
took it to all the island’s cape legs.
A mother and a father both in unity and agreement
Have kept their only daughter jailed
in their backyard
In an adjacent barn
This started when she was fourteen, indeed an innocent child
But she sincerely fell for the village’s most admired guy.
They eloped in secrecy to be together away of all
But it was no time until Eleni’s father caught her
And in one night from midnight to dawn he
-killed Sophocles with an axe-
-and beat Eleni to the brink of death-
-and locked her in the barn taking out the goats-
Eleni forgot everything from the same moment
They even say she suffered amnesia from the hits
And in the barn she knew nothing of who she was
Or why she was there,
Or of her soul’s torment.
The barn had been her little world, of hay for a nap
Of little food like beans and fried legumes
Of little light from a tiny window
and Bible tales from her mom.
There were no chains around her ankles,
No rinks around her wrists,
Just a half-kilo padlock outside the one metre door.
Window on the door and rust had been Eleni’s friends,
And as the rust was coming in, expanding on the inside,
“What are you?”
Eleni’d ask
-But no answer-
She imagined a snug dust of hope.
-But -
the shimming smells of the carnations invading every morning
Were no friends of hers, as they disturbed her gothic fiction.
In her immaculate riddles she always answered back to the world outside
with her smell of the enclosure
Familiar smells, of mold, waste and ammonia.
-years had passed-
Than the priest started suspecting of all these twenty years later,
when all the neighbours knew
And all agreed -but one- that it was best for all
That she was kept inside.
Sophocles had a trusted friend
Who took an oath for revenge
And that Eleni would be free
To live and love somebody.
He was the one who made the priest suspect
When all the others had been tricking him
about all the smells and cries,
about the secrecy of 13, Acheloou Str.
With him the kids sometimes made up sounds
like the ones Eleni made
But they were always told off by their fathers
And so the story went on,
Until one day eleni heard a passing Caravan
Announcing a children’s play of three acts.
Scene one:
(In the barn, mother outside unlocking the door in difficulty, the padlock is very heavy)
Eleni: (weakly) Mum, is it you, mum?
Mother: Yes, hold on a second to get this lock down, if I break it your dad’s gonna kill us both!
Eleni: did you bring me food?
Mother: Yes
Eleni: and milk?
Mother: yes
Eleni: what food?
Mother: beans
Eleni: again?
Mother: it’s Friday. We fast.
Eleni: Mum, you know I don’t like beans.
Mother: You always eat them.
Eleni: I don’t like beans!
Mother: You always eat them and you never complain!
Eleni: I don’t like beans at all! (intensely) I hate them!
Mother: no you don’t! You don’t hate them! I watch you eat them every time with such passion!
Eleni: I heard something today…
Mother: What is it with you today?
Eleni: (repeating in internal tone and moving her head back and forth) I heard something today, I heard something today, I heard something today, I heard something today
Mother: Stop it! I don’t see you eat, I’ll go and get you some bread today, drink your milk and I’ll be right back
Eleni: I heard something today, (fading as the mother leaves) I heard something today…
The island of Cyprus has always kept its secrets
Guilty words of little kids, sentences of the elder,
in sealed lips they were trapped of sovereign crowds.
The story we are about to tell took place in a Mesaoria village
but the wind that blew along
took it to all the island’s cape legs.
A mother and a father both in unity and agreement
Have kept their only daughter jailed
in their backyard
In an adjacent barn
This started when she was fourteen, indeed an innocent child
But she sincerely fell for the village’s most admired guy.
They eloped in secrecy to be together away of all
But it was no time until Eleni’s father caught her
And in one night from midnight to dawn he
-killed Sophocles with an axe-
-and beat Eleni to the brink of death-
-and locked her in the barn taking out the goats-
Eleni forgot everything from the same moment
They even say she suffered amnesia from the hits
And in the barn she knew nothing of who she was
Or why she was there,
Or of her soul’s torment.
The barn had been her little world, of hay for a nap
Of little food like beans and fried legumes
Of little light from a tiny window
and Bible tales from her mom.
There were no chains around her ankles,
No rinks around her wrists,
Just a half-kilo padlock outside the one metre door.
Window on the door and rust had been Eleni’s friends,
And as the rust was coming in, expanding on the inside,
“What are you?”
Eleni’d ask
-But no answer-
She imagined a snug dust of hope.
-But -
the shimming smells of the carnations invading every morning
Were no friends of hers, as they disturbed her gothic fiction.
In her immaculate riddles she always answered back to the world outside
with her smell of the enclosure
Familiar smells, of mold, waste and ammonia.
-years had passed-
Than the priest started suspecting of all these twenty years later,
when all the neighbours knew
And all agreed -but one- that it was best for all
That she was kept inside.
Sophocles had a trusted friend
Who took an oath for revenge
And that Eleni would be free
To live and love somebody.
He was the one who made the priest suspect
When all the others had been tricking him
about all the smells and cries,
about the secrecy of 13, Acheloou Str.
With him the kids sometimes made up sounds
like the ones Eleni made
But they were always told off by their fathers
And so the story went on,
Until one day eleni heard a passing Caravan
Announcing a children’s play of three acts.
Scene one:
(In the barn, mother outside unlocking the door in difficulty, the padlock is very heavy)
Eleni: (weakly) Mum, is it you, mum?
Mother: Yes, hold on a second to get this lock down, if I break it your dad’s gonna kill us both!
Eleni: did you bring me food?
Mother: Yes
Eleni: and milk?
Mother: yes
Eleni: what food?
Mother: beans
Eleni: again?
Mother: it’s Friday. We fast.
Eleni: Mum, you know I don’t like beans.
Mother: You always eat them.
Eleni: I don’t like beans!
Mother: You always eat them and you never complain!
Eleni: I don’t like beans at all! (intensely) I hate them!
Mother: no you don’t! You don’t hate them! I watch you eat them every time with such passion!
Eleni: I heard something today…
Mother: What is it with you today?
Eleni: (repeating in internal tone and moving her head back and forth) I heard something today, I heard something today, I heard something today, I heard something today
Mother: Stop it! I don’t see you eat, I’ll go and get you some bread today, drink your milk and I’ll be right back
Eleni: I heard something today, (fading as the mother leaves) I heard something today…
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
My inauguration to wholeness
I am attending my inauguration to life
Full-bodied
Grand-souled
Deep-minded
I am attending my inauguration to truth
Mooning my path to the podium
Mooning their faces to unveil
I am attending my inauguration to sense
Fear-absently
Pain-forbiddingly
Shame-freed
I am attending my inauguration to ail
Buried in golden uterus magma
Patted to breathe
And then you cut my umbilical cord and you wash the blood
While their eyes blink to that second of disconnection.
Full-bodied
Grand-souled
Deep-minded
I am attending my inauguration to truth
Mooning my path to the podium
Mooning their faces to unveil
I am attending my inauguration to sense
Fear-absently
Pain-forbiddingly
Shame-freed
I am attending my inauguration to ail
Buried in golden uterus magma
Patted to breathe
And then you cut my umbilical cord and you wash the blood
While their eyes blink to that second of disconnection.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
greek words a.m.a.p
The contribution of Greek to the English vocabulary can be quantified in two ways, type and token frequencies: type frequency is the proportion of distinct words; token frequency is the proportion of words in actual texts.
Since most words of Greek origin are specialized technical and scientific coinages, the type frequency is considerably higher than the token frequency. And the type frequency in a large word list will be larger than that in a small word list. In a typical English dictionary of 80,000 words, which corresponds very roughly to the vocabulary of an educated English speaker, about 5% of the words are borrowed from Greek directly, and about 25% indirectly.
Since the living Greek and English languages were not in direct contact until modern times, borrowings were necessarily indirect, coming either through Latin (through texts or various vernaculars), or from Ancient Greek texts, not the living language. More recently, a huge number of scientific, medical, and technical neologisms have been coined from Greek roots—and often re-borrowed back into Modern Greek.
•(references:) Konstantinidis, Aristidis (2006): Η Οικουμενική Διάσταση της Ελληνικής Γλώσσας 'The Universal Reach of the Greek Language'
Since most words of Greek origin are specialized technical and scientific coinages, the type frequency is considerably higher than the token frequency. And the type frequency in a large word list will be larger than that in a small word list. In a typical English dictionary of 80,000 words, which corresponds very roughly to the vocabulary of an educated English speaker, about 5% of the words are borrowed from Greek directly, and about 25% indirectly.
Since the living Greek and English languages were not in direct contact until modern times, borrowings were necessarily indirect, coming either through Latin (through texts or various vernaculars), or from Ancient Greek texts, not the living language. More recently, a huge number of scientific, medical, and technical neologisms have been coined from Greek roots—and often re-borrowed back into Modern Greek.
•(references:) Konstantinidis, Aristidis (2006): Η Οικουμενική Διάσταση της Ελληνικής Γλώσσας 'The Universal Reach of the Greek Language'
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
greek words a.m.a.p ("exist")
"exist' and "existence". two seemingly english words, finely embedded in the english dictionary. But has it ever occured to you that they come from the Greek verb "esti"? (esti = be) Esti is much more ancient than the latin verb "essere" with the same meaning. The prefix ex is also greek. I site some ancient greek verbs which sound like exist: "existamai", "existimi" Meanings vary, but etymology is not based on strict and direct meaning origin, but rather on geographical and cultural variations. (no source, blogger's opinion)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Γιάννης Δαλιανίδης… για να υπάρχω
«Για να υπάρχω θα θυμάμαι το πρόσωπο με τα γυαλιά
Για να υπάρχω θα περιμένω κάθε τρελοκόριτσο να με πειράζει
Για να υπάρχω θα αφήνω τη μουσίτσα στο διπλανό πεζοδρόμιο να υπάρχει.»
Στεκόμουνα στην άκρη κι η ορδή στην κηδεία ήταν μεγάλη,
λαός και κολωνάκι γίνανε ένα κι η οδύνη ήταν τεράστια.
Έλεγες κι έπαιρνα διαζύγιο από την ιστορία του ελληνικού σινεμά.
Είδα τα δάκρυα στα μάτια των διάσημων
κι ήταν τα ίδια με τα δάκρυα των άσχημων.
Μου έκανε εντύπωση η βραδύτητα της πορείας στον κατήφορο
και μια ταμπέλα «Φίνος Φιλμς» σπασμένη σ’ ένα κτίριο.
Για να υπάρχω θα ψάξω να βρω την πρώτη κάμερα που αγόρασες
κρυφά απ’ τον πατέρα σου με χρήματα δικά σου.
Για να υπάρχω θα αγοράσω κασέτες και Ντι βι ντι και θα καναπεδωθώ για μέρες,
για να αναγεννήσω μέσα μου το σύγχρονο πνεύμα της Ελλάδας
μήπως και ανδρειωθεί το βαθύτερο που έχασα το αρχαίο.
Για να υπάρχω θα δεχτώ πως είμαι ένας βλάκας και μισός.
Με τη Χριστίνα «ξύπνα Βασίλη» θα φωνάξουμε και «Όλγα αγάπη μου»
και «κυρ Γιώργη» και «Δήμο από τα Τρίκαλα»
και όλοι μαζί σου, Δαλιανίδη, θα χορέψουμε τουίστ και χάλι-γκάλι
στην Οδό Ανθέων και στο Λούνα Παρκ και σε κάποιο ρετιρέ.
Το φως του φεγγαριού θα σκιάζει γλυκά την αμαρτία της ομορφιάς μας
καθώς γυμνοί στο δρόμο θα εκστασιαζόμαστε χωρίς μαριχουάνα,
εραστές του ονείρου και χωρίς ταυτότητα,
ο εγωισμός μας σε ισόβια κάθειρξη.
Για να υπάρχω κτυπάω τα χέρια στον αέρα παλαμάκια δυο φορές
κι έρχονται κι άλλοι στη γιορτή ετούτη που στήσαμε
στραβά και ανάποδα με ίλιγγο και κλάμα.
Όταν η πόλη πεθαίνει εσύ ανασταίνεσαι,
γιατί έρχεται να χορέψει ο κατεργάρης κι η ψεύτρα,
η χαρτοπαίχτρα κι ο ξυπόλητος πρίγκηψ,
ένας γαμπρός απ’ το Λονδίνο και η κυρία απ’ τα μπουζούκια,
η Παριζιάνα και μια Ελληνίδα που δραπέτευσε απ’ το χαρέμι.
Όλοι χορεύουν με χρώματα ελληνικά
στο λιμάνι του Πειραιά και στην κρουαζιέρα στη Ρόδο.
Για να υπάρχω για λίγο δακρύζω ξανά
κοιτάω το φέρετρο και μετά γυρνάω πίσω στη γιορτή.
Η ιστορία μιας ζωής σε ένα κουτάκι με όνειρα και μικρές αμαρτίες.
Κι ο χορός ξάφνου φουντώνει και σαγηνεύει τους δύσκολους,
κι εμφανίζονται οι επικίνδυνοι και ο σκληρός άντρας,
ο επαναστάτης ποπολάρος κι ο μάγκας με το τρίκυκλο,
τα τσακάλια και τα λιονταράκια.
«Κάτι να καίει» γνέφει η Μαρία της σιωπής
κι ένα έξυπνο έξυπνο μούτρο στη στροφή
φωνάζει «μερικοί το προτιμούν κρύο».
Πλακώνονται μεταξύ τους κωμικά κι ο χορός σταματάει
Κι όλοι σε γρήγορη κίνηση τρέχουν και τσακώνονται
ωσάν σε γυρίσματα φαρσοκωμωδίας.
Ρίχνουν χάμω μπανάνες και χάντρες θαλασσιές
Και γλιστράμε όλοι προς το πλήθος που πονάει,
Όλοι οι ρόλοι ενώνονται σε έναν τεράστιο έγχρωμο Εύζωνα
έτσι όπως θα τον φανταζόσουνα, Γιάννη, κωμικό και τραγικό συνάμα,
κι έχετε οι δυο σας ραντεβού στον αέρα.
«Βασικά καλησπέρα σας» του ανακοινώνεις
καθώς εισέρχεται στην κάμερά σου ανάποδα κοιτώντας τους διάσημους
που θα μείνουν πίσω για λίγο
να μου θυμίζουν τους ρόλους που αγάπησα τόσο πολύ.
Για να υπάρχω θα περιμένω κάθε τρελοκόριτσο να με πειράζει
Για να υπάρχω θα αφήνω τη μουσίτσα στο διπλανό πεζοδρόμιο να υπάρχει.»
Στεκόμουνα στην άκρη κι η ορδή στην κηδεία ήταν μεγάλη,
λαός και κολωνάκι γίνανε ένα κι η οδύνη ήταν τεράστια.
Έλεγες κι έπαιρνα διαζύγιο από την ιστορία του ελληνικού σινεμά.
Είδα τα δάκρυα στα μάτια των διάσημων
κι ήταν τα ίδια με τα δάκρυα των άσχημων.
Μου έκανε εντύπωση η βραδύτητα της πορείας στον κατήφορο
και μια ταμπέλα «Φίνος Φιλμς» σπασμένη σ’ ένα κτίριο.
Για να υπάρχω θα ψάξω να βρω την πρώτη κάμερα που αγόρασες
κρυφά απ’ τον πατέρα σου με χρήματα δικά σου.
Για να υπάρχω θα αγοράσω κασέτες και Ντι βι ντι και θα καναπεδωθώ για μέρες,
για να αναγεννήσω μέσα μου το σύγχρονο πνεύμα της Ελλάδας
μήπως και ανδρειωθεί το βαθύτερο που έχασα το αρχαίο.
Για να υπάρχω θα δεχτώ πως είμαι ένας βλάκας και μισός.
Με τη Χριστίνα «ξύπνα Βασίλη» θα φωνάξουμε και «Όλγα αγάπη μου»
και «κυρ Γιώργη» και «Δήμο από τα Τρίκαλα»
και όλοι μαζί σου, Δαλιανίδη, θα χορέψουμε τουίστ και χάλι-γκάλι
στην Οδό Ανθέων και στο Λούνα Παρκ και σε κάποιο ρετιρέ.
Το φως του φεγγαριού θα σκιάζει γλυκά την αμαρτία της ομορφιάς μας
καθώς γυμνοί στο δρόμο θα εκστασιαζόμαστε χωρίς μαριχουάνα,
εραστές του ονείρου και χωρίς ταυτότητα,
ο εγωισμός μας σε ισόβια κάθειρξη.
Για να υπάρχω κτυπάω τα χέρια στον αέρα παλαμάκια δυο φορές
κι έρχονται κι άλλοι στη γιορτή ετούτη που στήσαμε
στραβά και ανάποδα με ίλιγγο και κλάμα.
Όταν η πόλη πεθαίνει εσύ ανασταίνεσαι,
γιατί έρχεται να χορέψει ο κατεργάρης κι η ψεύτρα,
η χαρτοπαίχτρα κι ο ξυπόλητος πρίγκηψ,
ένας γαμπρός απ’ το Λονδίνο και η κυρία απ’ τα μπουζούκια,
η Παριζιάνα και μια Ελληνίδα που δραπέτευσε απ’ το χαρέμι.
Όλοι χορεύουν με χρώματα ελληνικά
στο λιμάνι του Πειραιά και στην κρουαζιέρα στη Ρόδο.
Για να υπάρχω για λίγο δακρύζω ξανά
κοιτάω το φέρετρο και μετά γυρνάω πίσω στη γιορτή.
Η ιστορία μιας ζωής σε ένα κουτάκι με όνειρα και μικρές αμαρτίες.
Κι ο χορός ξάφνου φουντώνει και σαγηνεύει τους δύσκολους,
κι εμφανίζονται οι επικίνδυνοι και ο σκληρός άντρας,
ο επαναστάτης ποπολάρος κι ο μάγκας με το τρίκυκλο,
τα τσακάλια και τα λιονταράκια.
«Κάτι να καίει» γνέφει η Μαρία της σιωπής
κι ένα έξυπνο έξυπνο μούτρο στη στροφή
φωνάζει «μερικοί το προτιμούν κρύο».
Πλακώνονται μεταξύ τους κωμικά κι ο χορός σταματάει
Κι όλοι σε γρήγορη κίνηση τρέχουν και τσακώνονται
ωσάν σε γυρίσματα φαρσοκωμωδίας.
Ρίχνουν χάμω μπανάνες και χάντρες θαλασσιές
Και γλιστράμε όλοι προς το πλήθος που πονάει,
Όλοι οι ρόλοι ενώνονται σε έναν τεράστιο έγχρωμο Εύζωνα
έτσι όπως θα τον φανταζόσουνα, Γιάννη, κωμικό και τραγικό συνάμα,
κι έχετε οι δυο σας ραντεβού στον αέρα.
«Βασικά καλησπέρα σας» του ανακοινώνεις
καθώς εισέρχεται στην κάμερά σου ανάποδα κοιτώντας τους διάσημους
που θα μείνουν πίσω για λίγο
να μου θυμίζουν τους ρόλους που αγάπησα τόσο πολύ.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Intro to my new novel: "Anaconda Town"
Anaconda TownAnaconda town is a new town in Brazil, at the northern most edge of Amazon. The government chose that specific spot to build the first five hundred houses because it was a really wonderful and promising area. A little higher than the flat plains, the Amazon cascading waters could not get there upon even in the times of the widest floods of the country. The whole plain was uplifted at about 300 metres above sea level – or, rather ocean level – as the ocean was only a few miles down from there. The companies which signed the contracts with the government and the Unesco built the houses out of recycled cement and metal, and rock bought very cheaply from the Andes and not from the Guiana Highlands due to its soft and porous nature . The boulders were brought down bought by countries which were saving all waste material after demolitions; Paraguay, Uruguay and the French Guiana. The constructing company did not use any wood cut from the rainforest at all. That would be because the government had already signed the Kyoto agreement. There was a sub-paragraph about deforestation to which Brazil could not afford going against. After all, the sole purpose of the plan was dehumanization of the Amazon Basin as technology in all its grandeur had already started conquering the souls of the aboriginals. Scenes with naked children bodies illuminated in front of emitting screens in the middle of the jungle darkness were not a rarity anymore. Or pop and rock songs coming from cd players and dumbfounding all the surprised birds and mammals.
So, certain of the need to empty the area, before they took the decision to move all inside-forest populations outside, they calculated a percentage of persuasion success, and, even though the plan would cost much more than if they had used local material, they chose the expensive but sure and safe path. Proudly anymore, despite demonstrations and rivals from a whole nation, they gradually accommodated many peoples in big houses, “mansions” one would describe compared to the straw huts all these poor people used to live. Houses with solid roofs, with drainage system, metal pipes, gardens and fences. For the first time in their long history these tribes had frontiers around individual houses. They told them they were called “gardens” and that they had neighbours.
On entering the town, the first thing one will surely notice, is the long curling avenue splitting the town in two. All stores, craft shops and public services are on the left of this avenue. On the opposite side of the avenue is the two hundred and fifty houses. The rest of the houses are spread beside short vertical roads fitting two carriages aside. The first building you check on your left on the avenue are the public ones. First is the post office. It is said that they built it there so that the old postman, Mr Aureliado does not have to go back and forth with his decayed bike. Next comes the police station. But all the families in the town are still so much afraid of uniformed men that the government did not put any signs on the building, and no people inside yet. Mrs Gulielma Maurice visits the station very often to write a complaint about her neighbours, but she knows it will be a long time before someone reads any of those forms and perhaps comes to stop them from hanging washed clothes smelling outside her window or starting their mowing machine during siesta to remind her of the puma that had eaten half her grandchildren during the years of hunger.
So, certain of the need to empty the area, before they took the decision to move all inside-forest populations outside, they calculated a percentage of persuasion success, and, even though the plan would cost much more than if they had used local material, they chose the expensive but sure and safe path. Proudly anymore, despite demonstrations and rivals from a whole nation, they gradually accommodated many peoples in big houses, “mansions” one would describe compared to the straw huts all these poor people used to live. Houses with solid roofs, with drainage system, metal pipes, gardens and fences. For the first time in their long history these tribes had frontiers around individual houses. They told them they were called “gardens” and that they had neighbours.
On entering the town, the first thing one will surely notice, is the long curling avenue splitting the town in two. All stores, craft shops and public services are on the left of this avenue. On the opposite side of the avenue is the two hundred and fifty houses. The rest of the houses are spread beside short vertical roads fitting two carriages aside. The first building you check on your left on the avenue are the public ones. First is the post office. It is said that they built it there so that the old postman, Mr Aureliado does not have to go back and forth with his decayed bike. Next comes the police station. But all the families in the town are still so much afraid of uniformed men that the government did not put any signs on the building, and no people inside yet. Mrs Gulielma Maurice visits the station very often to write a complaint about her neighbours, but she knows it will be a long time before someone reads any of those forms and perhaps comes to stop them from hanging washed clothes smelling outside her window or starting their mowing machine during siesta to remind her of the puma that had eaten half her grandchildren during the years of hunger.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
απόφθεγμα 14
Όλοι του κόσμου οι χαζοί τη σοφία τους αν αρθροίσουν, ίσως νικηθεί κάθε βλακεία που υποκινεί ο κάθε Σοφός.
Friday, October 01, 2010
Comments on my Psychotic Life (a) love and diet
10 % of the fat I take
is the percentage of love that you give
33% of the time I spend on my long-gone abs
could have been passion aimed to you
And they all shout at me:
“Hydrate now”
“Buy this heating cream for your sake”
And they all shout at me:
“Anti-cellulite jell”
“Never forget the hypo allergic nylon around your waist”
35% of the carbohydrates in my food
Come from the tears the seasons shed at moments like these,
Over a white plate full of multivitamins,
It could have been a solution to you, too
And a voice very similar to my doctor’s whispers to my ear
“It’s exercise you need”
“Go write your name on a gym door”
And a voice high-pitched like mum’s calls
“I’ll buy you the trainers, don’t worry dear”
And a deep voice like dad’s assures
“I’ll buy you the socks”
Almost all protein I take
comes from eggs, beans, nuts and saliva from your kiss
but an ovo-lacto vegetarian like me
should think twice with all this intolerance to milk
And then you turn your head to face me
After years of pc and tv disguised denial
“I am not hungry tonight, let us not eat”
And I think “at last, that should be the missing link to my diet”
But unfortunately, sadly, conquered I whisper
with a mixed sound of all the voices that have ever advised me
“Why, love, come on, I’ll get us something to eat”.
is the percentage of love that you give
33% of the time I spend on my long-gone abs
could have been passion aimed to you
And they all shout at me:
“Hydrate now”
“Buy this heating cream for your sake”
And they all shout at me:
“Anti-cellulite jell”
“Never forget the hypo allergic nylon around your waist”
35% of the carbohydrates in my food
Come from the tears the seasons shed at moments like these,
Over a white plate full of multivitamins,
It could have been a solution to you, too
And a voice very similar to my doctor’s whispers to my ear
“It’s exercise you need”
“Go write your name on a gym door”
And a voice high-pitched like mum’s calls
“I’ll buy you the trainers, don’t worry dear”
And a deep voice like dad’s assures
“I’ll buy you the socks”
Almost all protein I take
comes from eggs, beans, nuts and saliva from your kiss
but an ovo-lacto vegetarian like me
should think twice with all this intolerance to milk
And then you turn your head to face me
After years of pc and tv disguised denial
“I am not hungry tonight, let us not eat”
And I think “at last, that should be the missing link to my diet”
But unfortunately, sadly, conquered I whisper
with a mixed sound of all the voices that have ever advised me
“Why, love, come on, I’ll get us something to eat”.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
απόφθεγμα 12
"Όλοι οι άνθρωποι που έχω ποτέ γνωρίσει φέρουν έπαρση. Αυτοί που την κρύβουν ευημερούν, αυτοί που τη δείχνουν πολεμούνται, και όσοι την πολεμούν υποφέρουν από χρόνια κατάθλιψη. Όσο και να μπαινοβγαίνεις και στις τρεις κατηγορίες, ακόμη κι αν δεν με συναντήσεις ποτέ, σε γνωρίζω ήδη. "
Saturday, August 28, 2010
another official review of my book
Throwing Dice On A Chessboard
Christos Tsiailis
ISBN: 9781449081119
AuthorHouse
Reviewed By Karynda Lewis
Official Apex Reviews Rating: ****
Regardless of whatever difficulties we may face, we all have the power to
shape our own fates. No matter how insurmountable our situations may seem, we
are equipped with all the necessary mental, physical, and spiritual tools we need
to overcome the obstacles that block our paths on the road of life. The only
problem? Whether or not we have the strength of faith to empower us to endure.
Such is the central premise of Throwing Dice On A Chessboard, the new
collection of short stories by author Christos Tsiailis. Throughout the pages of his
collection, Tsiailis introduces the reader to seven different characters, each facing
his/her own unique challenges. Far from superhuman icons, Tsiailis’ protagonists
are average, everyday figures to which readers are sure to relate, each with the
power to transform him/herself for the better – or worse. Just as we all are every
day, the characters in Throwing Dice On A Chessboard are faced with the everchanging
vicissitudes of life, and the ultimate success or failure of their efforts rests
on their individual abilities to heed the cosmic ebb and flow that perpetually
sways all of our actions. As such, Tsiailis’ insightful tome is drawn straight from the
pages of everyday life, particularly when it comes to the significance of the
ongoing battles we wage against the demons within us all. An enlightening read.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Everything Ends Up in my Pan
The worm that chewed on the soil that fed the tomato plant.
The bee leg that stole the pollen from the bouquet which has fallen in the lentil pack.
The scrupulous mule that licked the mushrooms; they are still moist with his saliva.
Your idea of a hand on an apple is boiling in this pan next to mine.
The incentive of the cook without eyes chopping the mint for the meatballs.
The passionate mosquito, suicidal, in love with his cruel mistress, forgotten in the rice.
Her fingertips on the frozen vegetables.
My mother’s careless traces on the grass I cut this morning.
My dad’s hair on my sister’s clothes as she is mixing the dough.
The breath of the shark passing by the school of smelt,
the smell of foreign blood in my pan.
Hippocampus woman kissing devoted husband on the belly; their egg inside the mackerel.
The dust of the fossilized starfish billowing near my wheat crop.
The seaweeds you washed off your feet last summer in Hawaii, in my spirulina dust
The salt from the one drop of water that drowned all my country in the Britannic.
The sugar that caused my diabetes death
from the cane that roofed the hut which three hurricanes did not take down.
You see, everything ends up in my pan and I fry the pain and fear with joy.
The bee leg that stole the pollen from the bouquet which has fallen in the lentil pack.
The scrupulous mule that licked the mushrooms; they are still moist with his saliva.
Your idea of a hand on an apple is boiling in this pan next to mine.
The incentive of the cook without eyes chopping the mint for the meatballs.
The passionate mosquito, suicidal, in love with his cruel mistress, forgotten in the rice.
Her fingertips on the frozen vegetables.
My mother’s careless traces on the grass I cut this morning.
My dad’s hair on my sister’s clothes as she is mixing the dough.
The breath of the shark passing by the school of smelt,
the smell of foreign blood in my pan.
Hippocampus woman kissing devoted husband on the belly; their egg inside the mackerel.
The dust of the fossilized starfish billowing near my wheat crop.
The seaweeds you washed off your feet last summer in Hawaii, in my spirulina dust
The salt from the one drop of water that drowned all my country in the Britannic.
The sugar that caused my diabetes death
from the cane that roofed the hut which three hurricanes did not take down.
You see, everything ends up in my pan and I fry the pain and fear with joy.
Burning jasmine
(because i sometimes write bullshit love poems)
I wanna give you give you give you
So I take everything back and cook
I wanna give you give you give you
Oh, I take the sun blue tack and broom
I wanna give you give you give you
So I take the yellow leaves and sew
Oh, I wanna give your dreams some lag
Obstacles lenses flammables
My fire will be enough.
I wanna give you give you give you
So I ask my room some favour
I wanna give you give you give you
Oh, I move the moon cast forth and bloom
I wanna give you give you give you
So I collect nocturnal jasmine seeds
Oh, I wanna glitter little thoughts inside
Nyx, Zorya, undress your veils
I wanna see your skin.
Because you asked me to give you everything
Here, it is what I have most precious.
A rare Japanese flower burning on my naked palm.
Oh, no, no! Don’t leave me… don’t go!
Oh, please take it… nooooo!
Oh, shame, what is left now of this wonderful pledge
is two shadows cast to opposite sides of a village
which would never comprehend mark, loss and Hara-kiri.
I wanna give you give you give you
So I take everything back and cook
I wanna give you give you give you
Oh, I take the sun blue tack and broom
I wanna give you give you give you
So I take the yellow leaves and sew
Oh, I wanna give your dreams some lag
Obstacles lenses flammables
My fire will be enough.
I wanna give you give you give you
So I ask my room some favour
I wanna give you give you give you
Oh, I move the moon cast forth and bloom
I wanna give you give you give you
So I collect nocturnal jasmine seeds
Oh, I wanna glitter little thoughts inside
Nyx, Zorya, undress your veils
I wanna see your skin.
Because you asked me to give you everything
Here, it is what I have most precious.
A rare Japanese flower burning on my naked palm.
Oh, no, no! Don’t leave me… don’t go!
Oh, please take it… nooooo!
Oh, shame, what is left now of this wonderful pledge
is two shadows cast to opposite sides of a village
which would never comprehend mark, loss and Hara-kiri.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Απόφθεγμα 11
"Μικρή δεν είναι η αγχόνη σας, κύριοι, για ένα τόσο μεγάλο κεφάλι; Τι θα λέγατε να φτιάξουμε μια εμείς, ο λαός; Χώρίς προσφορές, χωρίς μίζες. Χωρίς αντάλλαγμα."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Απόφθεγμα 10
"Στα κοινωνικά δίκτυα αναπτύσσονται τόσα εκατομμύρια δεσμοί στα πρώτα τριάντα χρόνια της ζωής σου, που στατιστικά είναι πιθανόν σε κάποια ανύποπτη στιγμή να αναφερθούν ταυτόχρονα στο πρόσωπό σου χίλια άτομα ανά το παγκόσμιο. Και αυτό αν δεν είσαι διασημότητα."
Friday, July 16, 2010
Η Επίγνωση του Ατόμου στον 21ο Αιώνα και οι Κίνδυνοι της Υπεργνώσης.
Επιβάλλεται στο σύγχρονο ερευνητή να διακομίζει τη γνώση και τα συμπεράσματά του στο ευρύ κοινό. Αυτή η επιβολή διεξάγεται αδήλωτα μέσα από μηχανισμούς διακοίνωσης και διακίνησης πληροφοριών που αλληλοεπηρεάζονται και αλληλοεξαρτούνται. Τα Ηλεκτρονικά Μέσα Μαζικής Ενημέρωσης όπως η Τηλεόραση, το Ραδιόφωνο και το Διαδίκτυο, ο Τύπος που περιλαμβάνει Εφημερίδα, Περιοδικά και Διαφήμιση σε ‘Εντυπα, και τέλος η παγκόσμια ομπρέλα δορυφορικής κάλυψης όλων των σημαντικών γεγονότων προς ευρεία ανάλωση από κάθε δυνατό μέσο ακόμη και μέσα από τα κινητά, όλα μαζί αποτελούν ένα δυναμικό σώμα μόρφωσης του Σύγχρονου Ανθρώπου που ποτέ στην Ιστορία δεν έχει ξανά συναπαντηθεί. Επιβάλλεται επίσης στο κάθε μέσο πλέον να διακομίζει την πληροφορία του σε όλα τα μέσα και το τεκμήριο της αποκλειστικότητας έχει πλέον εξανεμισθεί.
Ο σύγχρονος πολίτης είναι καθημερινά συντονισμένος με τουλάχιστον τρία από αυτά τα μέσα όπου η γνώση ανακυκλώνεται. Ο εργαζόμενος μόλις σχολάσει, αν δεν έχει ξοδέψει το ένα πέμπτο της μέρας του στον υπολογιστή αφού δεν εργάζεται σε γραφείο, ίσως πρώτα καθήσει στην τηλεόραση. Μετά αφού αρχίσει να νυστάζει και δεν είναι ακόμη ώρα για ύπνο, θα ανάψει τον υπολογιστή και θα σερφάρει στο διαδίκτυο, κι άμα κουραστούν τα μάτια του από το φως θα αρπάξει μια εφημερίδα ή ένα περιοδικό και θα χαλαρώσει. Η οικοκυρά που δεν ασχολείται με το διαδίκτυο θα περάσει περισσότερη ώρα με την τηλεόραση ανοικτή και έπειτα θα διαβάσει περιοδικό ή κάποιο βιβλίο, ή θα ανάψει το ραδιόφωνο για να ενασχοληθεί με τις δουλειές του σπιτιού. Κι αν δεν μείνει στο σπίτι και πάει στο κομμωτήριο σε κάποια φάση θα σηκώσει δύο και τρία περιοδικά με διαφορετικές ημερομηνίες και θα μετροφυλλίσει. Το δε παιδί, αφού δει κάθε λογής νέες αναρτήσεις στο facebook στο οποίο πια έχει πρόσβαση στο κινητό του, θα ξοδέψει λίγο χρόνο παίζοντας ηλεκτρονικά παιχνίδια υψηλής τεχνολογίας. Στα βιβλία του σχολείου θα διαβάσει κείμενα από επιστημονικά άρθρα (σύγχρονη τάση). Η επανάληψη της ίδιας πληροφορίας με παραφράσεις ή παραλλαγές είναι ανεξέλεγκτη σε όλα αυτά τα μέσα. Η αναγνώριση δε της πληροφορίας αυτής προκαλεί τέρψη στον αναγνώστη εξαιτίας του αισθήματος της σύγχρονης τάσης για επίγνωση και γνωσιακή απελευθέρωση. Αυτές οι δύο έννοιες θα μας απασχολήσουν στο παρόν δοκίμιο όπως και η απόληξη τους που ενώ ομοιάζει με το φαινόμενο της υπεργνώσης, μάλλον παραπέμπει σε ένα παροξυσμό γνώσης προς αυτοέλεγχο και αυτοκριτική με δυσάρεστες, σε πολλές περιπτώσεις, προεκτάσεις. Επικείμενη είναι φυσικά και η ανάγκη της μεταφοράς της πληροφορίας όχι μόνο μέσω των μέσων αλλά και από στόμα σε στόμα, σε ένα συρφετό συμβούλευσης μεταξύ φίλων ανάμεσα σε κοινωνικά δίκτυα, και, ελλείψει ειδικού, οι κίνδυνοι για την προσωπική υγεία και την πνευματική ισορροπία είναι τεράστιοι. Εν ολίγοις, ο κίνδυνος της παραπληροφόρησης στη σύγχρονη εποχή μεταμορφώνεται στο τέρας της παρασυμβουλευτικής που απειλεί να εξαρθρώσει το σθεναρό σκελετό της σύγχρονης ασκητικής του σώματος, διατροφολογίας και ψυχολογίας και όχι μόνο, καθώς πάρα πολλοί πλέον απλοί άνθρωποι αρχίζουν να θεωρούν τους εαυτούς τους ειδήμονες ακόμη και σε τεχνολογικά θέματα, που είναι η λιγότερο επικίνδυνη εξέλιξη.
Τέλος Α’ μέρους.
Ο σύγχρονος πολίτης είναι καθημερινά συντονισμένος με τουλάχιστον τρία από αυτά τα μέσα όπου η γνώση ανακυκλώνεται. Ο εργαζόμενος μόλις σχολάσει, αν δεν έχει ξοδέψει το ένα πέμπτο της μέρας του στον υπολογιστή αφού δεν εργάζεται σε γραφείο, ίσως πρώτα καθήσει στην τηλεόραση. Μετά αφού αρχίσει να νυστάζει και δεν είναι ακόμη ώρα για ύπνο, θα ανάψει τον υπολογιστή και θα σερφάρει στο διαδίκτυο, κι άμα κουραστούν τα μάτια του από το φως θα αρπάξει μια εφημερίδα ή ένα περιοδικό και θα χαλαρώσει. Η οικοκυρά που δεν ασχολείται με το διαδίκτυο θα περάσει περισσότερη ώρα με την τηλεόραση ανοικτή και έπειτα θα διαβάσει περιοδικό ή κάποιο βιβλίο, ή θα ανάψει το ραδιόφωνο για να ενασχοληθεί με τις δουλειές του σπιτιού. Κι αν δεν μείνει στο σπίτι και πάει στο κομμωτήριο σε κάποια φάση θα σηκώσει δύο και τρία περιοδικά με διαφορετικές ημερομηνίες και θα μετροφυλλίσει. Το δε παιδί, αφού δει κάθε λογής νέες αναρτήσεις στο facebook στο οποίο πια έχει πρόσβαση στο κινητό του, θα ξοδέψει λίγο χρόνο παίζοντας ηλεκτρονικά παιχνίδια υψηλής τεχνολογίας. Στα βιβλία του σχολείου θα διαβάσει κείμενα από επιστημονικά άρθρα (σύγχρονη τάση). Η επανάληψη της ίδιας πληροφορίας με παραφράσεις ή παραλλαγές είναι ανεξέλεγκτη σε όλα αυτά τα μέσα. Η αναγνώριση δε της πληροφορίας αυτής προκαλεί τέρψη στον αναγνώστη εξαιτίας του αισθήματος της σύγχρονης τάσης για επίγνωση και γνωσιακή απελευθέρωση. Αυτές οι δύο έννοιες θα μας απασχολήσουν στο παρόν δοκίμιο όπως και η απόληξη τους που ενώ ομοιάζει με το φαινόμενο της υπεργνώσης, μάλλον παραπέμπει σε ένα παροξυσμό γνώσης προς αυτοέλεγχο και αυτοκριτική με δυσάρεστες, σε πολλές περιπτώσεις, προεκτάσεις. Επικείμενη είναι φυσικά και η ανάγκη της μεταφοράς της πληροφορίας όχι μόνο μέσω των μέσων αλλά και από στόμα σε στόμα, σε ένα συρφετό συμβούλευσης μεταξύ φίλων ανάμεσα σε κοινωνικά δίκτυα, και, ελλείψει ειδικού, οι κίνδυνοι για την προσωπική υγεία και την πνευματική ισορροπία είναι τεράστιοι. Εν ολίγοις, ο κίνδυνος της παραπληροφόρησης στη σύγχρονη εποχή μεταμορφώνεται στο τέρας της παρασυμβουλευτικής που απειλεί να εξαρθρώσει το σθεναρό σκελετό της σύγχρονης ασκητικής του σώματος, διατροφολογίας και ψυχολογίας και όχι μόνο, καθώς πάρα πολλοί πλέον απλοί άνθρωποι αρχίζουν να θεωρούν τους εαυτούς τους ειδήμονες ακόμη και σε τεχνολογικά θέματα, που είναι η λιγότερο επικίνδυνη εξέλιξη.
Τέλος Α’ μέρους.
Απόφθεγμα 9
"Με δυσκολία κατάφερα να φανταστώ όλο το εσωτερικό του σπιτιού μου αφού αφαίρεσα νοητά κάθε είδους πλαστικό. Για δύο δευτερόλεπτα βίωσα μία Γκουέρνικα και στο τρίτο το σπίτι κατέρευσε επάνω μου."
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Απόφθεγμα 8
"Η τήξη και η πήξη των πολιτισμών στον 21ο αιώνα. Στα δύο άκρα. Οι ακραίες πολώσεις στην τέχνη, την πολιτική και την ψυχοσύνθεση του Homo Digitalis δεν είναι σημεία των καιρών. Ούτε εξέλιξη. Είναι ανάνηψη. Ένα μεγάλο βήμα για τον επαναπροσδιορισμό της Χρυσής Τομής."
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Απόφθεγμα 7
"Η ιδέα για πλαστική επέμβαση έχει εισβάλει στο μυαλό μου. Θα αντιδράσω το ίδιο όπως όταν είχε έρθει η μόδα της δίαιτας και πολύ πιο παλιά με την πρώτη πρόσκληση για ψώνια σε μαγαζιά. Θα πω και Ναι και Όχι κι ας αλληλοεξοντωθούν μόνα τους μέσα μου"
Απόφθεγμα 6
"Με ρωτάς ποια είναι η πιο μεγάλη ανακάλυψη. Μετά η πιο μεγάλη εφεύρεση. Μετά η πιο μεγάλη ιδέα. Ανακαλύψεις, εφευρέσεις, ιδέες. Καταπίνω το μικρόφωνο του βήματός μας, πνίγομαι, πεθαίνω. Αν ποτέ με ξυπνήσεις ξανά, θα έχεις την απάντησή σου."
Απόφθεγμα 5
"Κάποιοι μεσήλικες περνούν τα δάκτυλά τους μέσα από τα μαλλιά τους αισθανόμενοι πως χαϊδεύουν το ρυάκι που κυλάει. Άλλοι αγγίζοντας το φαλακρό τους κεφάλι, αισθάνονται πως χαιδεύουν τα υπέροχα ραφιναρισμένα βότσαλα παραδίπλα. Η ενέργεια του χρόνου που κυλάει προς τον Ωκεανό είναι σε όλα τα κεφάλια το ίδιο έντονη".
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Απόφθεγμα 4
"Ένα καρπούζι με μαλακό φλοιό, κίτρινη ψίχα και αλμυρή γεύση, απαιτεί μια ομάδα γλωσσολόγων, μία ομάδα γεωπόνων, μία ομάδα δοκιμαστών, μία σειρά ετών από μαζικές παραγωγές και μία πολιτική απόφαση για να επονομαστεί σε ένα νέο φρούτο. Και μια γενεά για να γίνει αποδεκτό."
Monday, July 12, 2010
Απόφθεγμα 3
"Οι φράσεις "εν ψυχρώ" δολοφονία και "εν θερμώ" παραδόξως ηχούν πολύ όμορφα στα αυτιά του ακροατή. Ταύτιση; Ένστικτο; Πάντως όχι απλή συνήθεια."
απόφθεγμα 2
"Τα ρούχα επιλέγονται με βάση τη διάθεση του αγοράζοντος, η οποία αλλάζει ανάλογα με τους κύκλους του φεγγαριού. Αναλόγως πρέπει να ανακυκλώνεται και η εξωτερική εμφάνιση"
Απόφθεγμα 12/07/10
"Η απόφαση για το μέγεθος του κανναβάτσου για τον ερασιτέχνη είναι πολύ πιο κρίσιμη από το τι θα ζωγραφίσει. Για τον ζωγράφο είναι απλά πιο δύσκολη".
Απόφθεγμα
Σκεφτόμουνα να αρχίσω τις άγριες πρωινές μου σκέψεις να τις αποφθέγγω εδώ.
Πείτε μου αν αξίζουν ανάγνωσης.
Πείτε μου αν αξίζουν ανάγνωσης.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Butch Love Years Following a Yeats’ Punch Line.
Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night,
I will accept to dress up day on me for you,
And I will cover my skin in phosphorus.
Because you have chosen me from a trillion galaxies,
I will become the lighthouse for our thriving ships
And I will pull the territorial shelf apart.
Because you have found me dead in the vortex
I will breathe one last time in your mouth until you surface
And I will suck the thick black matter from your eyes.
Because you have picked me up from a crowd of monks
I will stop praying if you ask me
And I will give up infinity for pleasure.
Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night,
I will bring my brothers and I will bring my sisters,
And you bring your folks and your children dyed black,
To create an illusion of a last sunset in Santorini.
I will accept to dress up day on me for you,
And I will cover my skin in phosphorus.
Because you have chosen me from a trillion galaxies,
I will become the lighthouse for our thriving ships
And I will pull the territorial shelf apart.
Because you have found me dead in the vortex
I will breathe one last time in your mouth until you surface
And I will suck the thick black matter from your eyes.
Because you have picked me up from a crowd of monks
I will stop praying if you ask me
Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night,
I will bring my brothers and I will bring my sisters,
And you bring your folks and your children dyed black,
To create an illusion of a last sunset in Santorini.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Για όσους ενδιαφέρονται να διαβάσουν αγγλική λογοτεχνία με κουλτούρα και στοιχεία Κύπριου συγγραφέα, το βιβλίο μου πωλείται τώρα σε όλα τα μεγάλα βιβλιοπωλεία της Κύπρου. Ζητήστε το με τίτλο ή όνομα συγγραφέα. Σταδιακά θα διανεμηθεί και σε μικρότερης εμβέλειας βιβλιοπωλεία. Επίσης για τους φοιτητές του Πανεπιστημίου Κύπρου σημειώνω ότι το βιβλίο έχει stand στο κατάστημα Φωτοτυπιών Αντωνίου πάνω στην Καλλιπόλεως.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
A well-preserved cell
The guard entered and told hid coldly: “You should stop complaining, dude! You are not going anywhere! Nobody is waiting for you out there!” The intensity of this comment made some of the words or syllables escape from the small window to the yard where the others were playing football.
“compl…”
“not”
“nobody”
“out”
All the open vowels opened up in audio circles around the pitch, around the ball, around the bodies of the men, around their heads, and inside their ears. But they knew already what was going on at that height of the building, on that side.
“Get me out of here!” was all this man could exchange in dialogue with anybody. As if he was a beast, a gorilla in captivity roaming and grapping on the bars and hitting on his chest. Saliva dripping from the sides of his lips, some dried on his chin, a sign of madness? Uncontrollable fury? Surrendering to the inevitability of captivity?
“Get me out of here!” was sometimes so intense that it would scare all the other inmates to death, as if they themselves did not share the same need for escape from all this psychedelia.
The guard was scared sometimes, too. Struck by the sparkled piercing of his eyes. Dumbfounded by the squeezing of the madman’s nostrils to gather up as much pressure as possible before every next shout.
The jail is madness. It is the idea of madness and the ideal place for engaging in sheer, deliberate, guided lunacy in escapade. In every corner of the building, on every tile, from outside and inside, yard, chambers and cells, riding every sun ray entering from the tiny windows, there comes a schizophrenic hint of misfortune. Passionate urge, pain, fear, anguish, intense bullying, cries, regrets. Insane sounds. Strong, weak, trembling voices, stentorian voices, tragic cries.
But his cry was the mightiest of all cries. “Get me out of here!”
Thameson doesn’t belong in this prison. He does not belong in any enclosure to that matter. He is the least lunatic and the least criminal of all. He knows how innocent he is. His guard tells him he is wrong, that he is guilty but he doesn’t know. His inmates laugh at him. They show him his scars and tell him that no innocent people have scars on their faces! Let alone his crooked nose!
“If I see you with a knife in your hands, will you tell me you are going to the kitchen? Hahahahaha!!!” a tall Chinese man asked him.
Then Asafa added playfully, “if I let my soap fall on the floor in the bath, will you say, ‘oh, he is straight?’”
And everybody laughed and hit their spoons on the table and then continued eagerly to manage to eat their meat with these hateful tools.
He was ashamed to shout “Get me out of here!” when he wasn’t behind bars, because it wouldn’t make sense to the rest. So he shouted inside his skull with every strong bite of the meat. He shouted with his eyes because it would make sense to him, as it wasn’t his cell that bothered him, but the whole idea of jail. Imprisoned for no reason at all. Foucault came to his sleep sometimes and talked to him.
End of part one
Sunday, May 09, 2010
another book
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. RowlingReading this book I learned that the British might have an attitude, but they might as well do, as they have a mighty say
View all my reviews >>
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
please preview...and then review
Check on your left. Please preview... and then review...
on Amazon (requires account creation), or... click here:
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Throwing-Dice-on-a-Chessboard/Christos-Rodoulla-Tsiailis/e/9781449081119/?itm=1&USRI=throwing+dice+on+a+chessboard
Παρακαλώ τους φίλους αναγνώστες να δουν μέρος του βιβλίου στα αριστερά... μετά να γράψουν το σχόλιο τους κάνοντας click στον πάνω σύνδεσμο ή στο Amazon (εκεί ζητάει να φτιάξεις account)
Ένα βιβλίο χρειάζεται reviews για να ανεβαίνει στη λίστα και να φαίνεται πιο μπροστά στα διαδικτυακά βιβλιοπωλεία. Επίσης οι υποψήφιοι αγοραστές θέλουν να δουν reviews (σχόλια από άλλους αναγνώστες) για να νιώσουν εμπιστοσύνη και να αγοράσουν το βιβλίο.
Σας ευχαριστώ για τη βοήθεια.
on Amazon (requires account creation), or... click here:
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Throwing-Dice-on-a-Chessboard/Christos-Rodoulla-Tsiailis/e/9781449081119/?itm=1&USRI=throwing+dice+on+a+chessboard
Παρακαλώ τους φίλους αναγνώστες να δουν μέρος του βιβλίου στα αριστερά... μετά να γράψουν το σχόλιο τους κάνοντας click στον πάνω σύνδεσμο ή στο Amazon (εκεί ζητάει να φτιάξεις account)
Ένα βιβλίο χρειάζεται reviews για να ανεβαίνει στη λίστα και να φαίνεται πιο μπροστά στα διαδικτυακά βιβλιοπωλεία. Επίσης οι υποψήφιοι αγοραστές θέλουν να δουν reviews (σχόλια από άλλους αναγνώστες) για να νιώσουν εμπιστοσύνη και να αγοράσουν το βιβλίο.
Σας ευχαριστώ για τη βοήθεια.
Τελευταία Υπενθύμιση - Last Reminder
THE MEDITERRANEAN WRITERS GROUP
SPRING WRITERS’ RETREAT
KAKOPETRIA,CYPRUS, 30 April-2 May 2010
The Mediterranean Writers Group is hosting a writers’ retreat at the Makris Hotel & Linos Inn in Kakopetria, Cyprus, in the Troodos mountain region on the Klarios River, for the weekend of 30 April – 2 May 2010 with the aim of allowing serious writers of fiction, poetry, and other forms of creative writing the opportunity to have the time and space to focus on their craft, share their work with other serious writers, and to soak up the natural environment of the region. Our theme will be “Beginnings.”
This 3-day mini-retreat combines creative writing workshops with readings, a publishing practicum, book swaps, and structured activities like nature walks and guided conversations related to their work. Of course, the retreat is also about having time away from the pressures of daily life to write in peace and solitude. Specialists in fiction, poetry, and drama will be on site to run workshops, offer advice, and provide guidance. The retreat is open to writers of all levels, and costs €110,00 total.
The deadline to register is Friday, 23 April 2010. (Late registrations accepted.)
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-__________________________________________________________________________________
Schedule of Activities
FRIDAY: 30 APRIL 2010
6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Beginnings. Strategies for warming up, getting the writing flowing, and for sustaining starts. The focus will be on pre-writing to write, how to set the stage for a poem or short story before the writing begins. Dinner afterwards at local taverna. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
10 p.m. Writing Time. This evening is set aside for participants to complete short, assigned exercises in fiction & poetry in the solitude of the mountain night. (Makris Hotel)
SATURDAY : 1 MAY 2010
9:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction). This workshop allows fiction writers the opportunity to try out new ways of approaching their craft, including exercises in tactile response to objects, sense-focus, and interaction with other media (photography, film, visual arts). Conducted by Maria Ioannou. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Book Swap. Participants will introduce & exchange books with each other, free of charge, as a means to both expanding their libraries and sharing what they have learned. Poetry, fiction, literary biography, and critical books all welcome. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
12:30 – 3 p.m. Madaris Nature Walk & Picnic Lunch at a remote mountaintop Fire Lookout Station. (Meet at cars at Makris Hotel 12:45.)
3 p.m. – 5:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Focus on beginning: how to find narrator, character, and speaker voices. This workshop will allow poets & fiction writers a chance to try out new ways of approaching their beginnings. Thematic in-course writing, prose poetry, narrative, lyric, and longer forms of poetry all will be part of the practice work we do. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
8 p.m. Writing Time. The evening is set aside for undisturbed quiet time writing, with only one rule: that no participant contact another during this period, and that mobile phones remain switched off. Each writer will be given an individually tailored exercise to work on over the evening, for presentation the next afternoon. (Makris Hotel).
SUNDAY : 2 MAY 2010
9:30 a.m. – 11:00 a.m. Fresh Start Workshop. This workshop throws writers into unfamiliar territory, asking them to write on topics and in forms / modes they have never written in before. Fictional autobiography, non-fiction poetry, and a range of other cross-forms will be set up as experiments to follow. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
11:15 a.m.–12:45 p.m. Drama Workshop. This workshop provides hands-on advice and practical exercises on the techniques dramatists use to start plays in the theatre. Focused on dramatic beginnings, and using set-piece examples, it helps writers find the openings they need—with an eye on other genres particularly. Conducted by Ellada Evangelou, of The Rooftop Theatre Company. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
12:45 p.m. – 1:30 p.m. Publishing Practicum. This brings writers and editors with experience publishing their work together to share practical advice on how to get creative work published in Cyprus and the Mediterranean more broadly. Conducted by Christos Rodoullas Tsiailis, Author of Throwing Dice on a Chessboard & Erato Ioannou, Author of Cats Have it All. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
1:30 p.m. to 3 p.m. Lunch at local taverna
3 p.m. - 5 p.m. Guided Conversation/ Response Workshop. This period is reserved for free and open discussion of the writing participants have done during the previous two days, guided by a set of topics to help the writers evaluate their own and others’ progress. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
__________________________________________________________________________________
Registration Information
Makris Hotel room charge: €60,00 per person (includes Fri & Sat night & breakfasts)
Facilities fee: €15,00 per person
Coordinator fee: €35,00 per person
Total: €110,00
2-day options (Sat & Sun only) are also available, at €80,00. All payments due upon arrival.
To register by Friday 23 April 2010 contact Dr. Spurgeon Thompson, 1 28th Oktovriou Street, 4680 Agros, Cyprus, email: spurgeonthompson1@yahoo.co.uk, or phone +357, 99804970. Late registrations accepted, but will not guarantee accommodation at the Makris Hotel, given the 1st of May holiday.
SPRING WRITERS’ RETREAT
KAKOPETRIA,CYPRUS, 30 April-2 May 2010
The Mediterranean Writers Group is hosting a writers’ retreat at the Makris Hotel & Linos Inn in Kakopetria, Cyprus, in the Troodos mountain region on the Klarios River, for the weekend of 30 April – 2 May 2010 with the aim of allowing serious writers of fiction, poetry, and other forms of creative writing the opportunity to have the time and space to focus on their craft, share their work with other serious writers, and to soak up the natural environment of the region. Our theme will be “Beginnings.”
This 3-day mini-retreat combines creative writing workshops with readings, a publishing practicum, book swaps, and structured activities like nature walks and guided conversations related to their work. Of course, the retreat is also about having time away from the pressures of daily life to write in peace and solitude. Specialists in fiction, poetry, and drama will be on site to run workshops, offer advice, and provide guidance. The retreat is open to writers of all levels, and costs €110,00 total.
The deadline to register is Friday, 23 April 2010. (Late registrations accepted.)
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-__________________________________________________________________________________
Schedule of Activities
FRIDAY: 30 APRIL 2010
6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Beginnings. Strategies for warming up, getting the writing flowing, and for sustaining starts. The focus will be on pre-writing to write, how to set the stage for a poem or short story before the writing begins. Dinner afterwards at local taverna. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
10 p.m. Writing Time. This evening is set aside for participants to complete short, assigned exercises in fiction & poetry in the solitude of the mountain night. (Makris Hotel)
SATURDAY : 1 MAY 2010
9:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction). This workshop allows fiction writers the opportunity to try out new ways of approaching their craft, including exercises in tactile response to objects, sense-focus, and interaction with other media (photography, film, visual arts). Conducted by Maria Ioannou. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Book Swap. Participants will introduce & exchange books with each other, free of charge, as a means to both expanding their libraries and sharing what they have learned. Poetry, fiction, literary biography, and critical books all welcome. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
12:30 – 3 p.m. Madaris Nature Walk & Picnic Lunch at a remote mountaintop Fire Lookout Station. (Meet at cars at Makris Hotel 12:45.)
3 p.m. – 5:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Focus on beginning: how to find narrator, character, and speaker voices. This workshop will allow poets & fiction writers a chance to try out new ways of approaching their beginnings. Thematic in-course writing, prose poetry, narrative, lyric, and longer forms of poetry all will be part of the practice work we do. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
8 p.m. Writing Time. The evening is set aside for undisturbed quiet time writing, with only one rule: that no participant contact another during this period, and that mobile phones remain switched off. Each writer will be given an individually tailored exercise to work on over the evening, for presentation the next afternoon. (Makris Hotel).
SUNDAY : 2 MAY 2010
9:30 a.m. – 11:00 a.m. Fresh Start Workshop. This workshop throws writers into unfamiliar territory, asking them to write on topics and in forms / modes they have never written in before. Fictional autobiography, non-fiction poetry, and a range of other cross-forms will be set up as experiments to follow. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
11:15 a.m.–12:45 p.m. Drama Workshop. This workshop provides hands-on advice and practical exercises on the techniques dramatists use to start plays in the theatre. Focused on dramatic beginnings, and using set-piece examples, it helps writers find the openings they need—with an eye on other genres particularly. Conducted by Ellada Evangelou, of The Rooftop Theatre Company. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
12:45 p.m. – 1:30 p.m. Publishing Practicum. This brings writers and editors with experience publishing their work together to share practical advice on how to get creative work published in Cyprus and the Mediterranean more broadly. Conducted by Christos Rodoullas Tsiailis, Author of Throwing Dice on a Chessboard & Erato Ioannou, Author of Cats Have it All. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
1:30 p.m. to 3 p.m. Lunch at local taverna
3 p.m. - 5 p.m. Guided Conversation/ Response Workshop. This period is reserved for free and open discussion of the writing participants have done during the previous two days, guided by a set of topics to help the writers evaluate their own and others’ progress. (Linos Inn, Old Town).
__________________________________________________________________________________
Registration Information
Makris Hotel room charge: €60,00 per person (includes Fri & Sat night & breakfasts)
Facilities fee: €15,00 per person
Coordinator fee: €35,00 per person
Total: €110,00
2-day options (Sat & Sun only) are also available, at €80,00. All payments due upon arrival.
To register by Friday 23 April 2010 contact Dr. Spurgeon Thompson, 1 28th Oktovriou Street, 4680 Agros, Cyprus, email: spurgeonthompson1@yahoo.co.uk, or phone +357, 99804970. Late registrations accepted, but will not guarantee accommodation at the Makris Hotel, given the 1st of May holiday.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Fiction
Fiction begins, describes and ends worlds
Fiction bares, delivers, outlives and buries Man
Fiction destroys, Fiction builds
What is a lie is no Fiction but what is fictitious is a lie – or the Truth?
Fictions kisses Reality on the cheek for thirty argyrols
People rely on Fiction for short-term worlds to escape
Perplexity secretes Fiction eczema to renounce travesty
Vision paints the amphilvistroid in Fiction to become square
Horse: No Fiction
Pig: No Fiction
Chicken : No Fiction
Fiction: Horse-pig chicken on wheels painting a barn.
Fiction bares, delivers, outlives and buries Man
Fiction destroys, Fiction builds
What is a lie is no Fiction but what is fictitious is a lie – or the Truth?
Fictions kisses Reality on the cheek for thirty argyrols
People rely on Fiction for short-term worlds to escape
Perplexity secretes Fiction eczema to renounce travesty
Vision paints the amphilvistroid in Fiction to become square
Horse: No Fiction
Pig: No Fiction
Chicken : No Fiction
Fiction: Horse-pig chicken on wheels painting a barn.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
THE MEDITERRANEAN WRITERS GROUP
SPRING WRITERS’ RETREAT
KAKOPETRIA,CYPRUS, 30 April-2 May 2010
The Mediterranean Writers Group is hosting a writers’ retreat at the Makris Hotel in Kakopetria, Cyprus, in the Troodos mountain region on the Klarios River, for the weekend of 30 April – 2 May 2010 with the aim of allowing serious writers of fiction, poetry, and other forms of creative writing the opportunity to have the time and space to focus on their craft, share their work with other serious writers, and to soak up the natural environment of the region. Our theme will be “Beginnings.”
This 3-day mini-retreat combines creative writing workshops with readings, a publishing practicum, book swaps, and structured activities like nature walks and guided conversations related to their work. Of course, the retreat is also about having time away from the pressures of daily life to write in peace and solitude. Specialists in fiction, poetry, and drama will be on site to run workshops, offer advice, and provide guidance. The retreat is open to writers of all levels, and costs €110,00 total.
The deadline to register is Friday, 23 April 2010.
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-__________________________________________________________________________________
Schedule of Activities
FRIDAY: 30 APRIL 2010
6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Beginnings. Strategies for warming up, getting the writing flowing, and for sustaining starts. The focus will be on pre-writing to write, how to set the stage for a poem or short story before the writing begins. Dinner afterwards at local taverna.
10 p.m. Writing Time. This evening is set aside for participants to complete short, assigned exercises in fiction & poetry in the solitude of the mountain night.
SATURDAY : 1 MAY 2010
9:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction). This workshop allows fiction writers the opportunity to try out new ways of approaching their craft, including exercises in tactile response to objects, sense-focus, and interaction with other media (photography, film, visual arts). Conducted by Maria Ioannou.
11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Book Swap. Participants will introduce & exchange books with each other, free of charge, as a means to both expanding their libraries and sharing what they have learned. Poetry, fiction, literary biography, and critical books all welcome.
12:30 – 3 p.m. Madaris Nature Walk & Picnic Lunch at a remote mountaintop Fire Lookout Station.
3 p.m. – 5:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Focus on beginning: how to find narrator, character, and speaker voices. This workshop will allow poets & fiction writers a chance to try out new ways of approaching their beginnings. Thematic in-course writing, prose poetry, narrative, lyric, and longer forms of poetry all will be part of the practice work we do.
8 p.m. Writing Time. The evening is set aside for undisturbed quiet time writing, with only one rule: that no participant contact another during this period, and that mobile phones remain switched off. Each writer will be given a individually tailored exercise to work on over the evening, for presentation the next afternoon.
SUNDAY : 2 MAY 2010
10 a.m. - 12 p.m. Fresh Start Workshop. This workshop throws writers into unfamiliar territory, asking them to write on topics and in forms / modes they have never written in before. Fictional autobiography, non-fiction poetry, and a range of other cross-forms will be set up as experiments to follow.
12 p.m. – 1:30 p.m. Publishing Practicum. This brings writers and editors with experience publishing their work together to share practical advice on how to get creative work published in Cyprus and the Mediterranean more broadly. Conducted by Christos Rodoullas Tsiailis.
1:30 p.m. to 3 p.m. Lunch at local taverna
3 p.m. - 5 p.m. Guided Conversation/ Response Workshop. This period is reserved for free and open discussion of the writing participants have done during the previous two days, guided by a set of topics to help the writers evaluate their own and others’ progress.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Registration Information
Makris Hotel room charge: €60,00 per person (includes Fri & Sat night & breakfasts)
Facilities fee: €15,00 per person
Coordinator fee: €35,00 per person
Total: €110,00
2-day options (Sat & Sun only) are also available, at €80,00. All payments due upon arrival.
To register by Friday 23 April 2010 contact Dr. Spurgeon Thompson, 1 28th Oktovriou Street, 4680 Agros, Cyprus, email: spurgeonthompson1@yahoo.co.uk, or phone +357, 99804970. Late registrations accepted, but will not guarantee accommodation at the Makris Hotel, given the 1st of May holiday.
SPRING WRITERS’ RETREAT
KAKOPETRIA,CYPRUS, 30 April-2 May 2010
The Mediterranean Writers Group is hosting a writers’ retreat at the Makris Hotel in Kakopetria, Cyprus, in the Troodos mountain region on the Klarios River, for the weekend of 30 April – 2 May 2010 with the aim of allowing serious writers of fiction, poetry, and other forms of creative writing the opportunity to have the time and space to focus on their craft, share their work with other serious writers, and to soak up the natural environment of the region. Our theme will be “Beginnings.”
This 3-day mini-retreat combines creative writing workshops with readings, a publishing practicum, book swaps, and structured activities like nature walks and guided conversations related to their work. Of course, the retreat is also about having time away from the pressures of daily life to write in peace and solitude. Specialists in fiction, poetry, and drama will be on site to run workshops, offer advice, and provide guidance. The retreat is open to writers of all levels, and costs €110,00 total.
The deadline to register is Friday, 23 April 2010.
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-__________________________________________________________________________________
Schedule of Activities
FRIDAY: 30 APRIL 2010
6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Beginnings. Strategies for warming up, getting the writing flowing, and for sustaining starts. The focus will be on pre-writing to write, how to set the stage for a poem or short story before the writing begins. Dinner afterwards at local taverna.
10 p.m. Writing Time. This evening is set aside for participants to complete short, assigned exercises in fiction & poetry in the solitude of the mountain night.
SATURDAY : 1 MAY 2010
9:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction). This workshop allows fiction writers the opportunity to try out new ways of approaching their craft, including exercises in tactile response to objects, sense-focus, and interaction with other media (photography, film, visual arts). Conducted by Maria Ioannou.
11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Book Swap. Participants will introduce & exchange books with each other, free of charge, as a means to both expanding their libraries and sharing what they have learned. Poetry, fiction, literary biography, and critical books all welcome.
12:30 – 3 p.m. Madaris Nature Walk & Picnic Lunch at a remote mountaintop Fire Lookout Station.
3 p.m. – 5:30 p.m. Creative Writing Workshop (fiction & poetry). Focus on beginning: how to find narrator, character, and speaker voices. This workshop will allow poets & fiction writers a chance to try out new ways of approaching their beginnings. Thematic in-course writing, prose poetry, narrative, lyric, and longer forms of poetry all will be part of the practice work we do.
8 p.m. Writing Time. The evening is set aside for undisturbed quiet time writing, with only one rule: that no participant contact another during this period, and that mobile phones remain switched off. Each writer will be given a individually tailored exercise to work on over the evening, for presentation the next afternoon.
SUNDAY : 2 MAY 2010
10 a.m. - 12 p.m. Fresh Start Workshop. This workshop throws writers into unfamiliar territory, asking them to write on topics and in forms / modes they have never written in before. Fictional autobiography, non-fiction poetry, and a range of other cross-forms will be set up as experiments to follow.
12 p.m. – 1:30 p.m. Publishing Practicum. This brings writers and editors with experience publishing their work together to share practical advice on how to get creative work published in Cyprus and the Mediterranean more broadly. Conducted by Christos Rodoullas Tsiailis.
1:30 p.m. to 3 p.m. Lunch at local taverna
3 p.m. - 5 p.m. Guided Conversation/ Response Workshop. This period is reserved for free and open discussion of the writing participants have done during the previous two days, guided by a set of topics to help the writers evaluate their own and others’ progress.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Registration Information
Makris Hotel room charge: €60,00 per person (includes Fri & Sat night & breakfasts)
Facilities fee: €15,00 per person
Coordinator fee: €35,00 per person
Total: €110,00
2-day options (Sat & Sun only) are also available, at €80,00. All payments due upon arrival.
To register by Friday 23 April 2010 contact Dr. Spurgeon Thompson, 1 28th Oktovriou Street, 4680 Agros, Cyprus, email: spurgeonthompson1@yahoo.co.uk, or phone +357, 99804970. Late registrations accepted, but will not guarantee accommodation at the Makris Hotel, given the 1st of May holiday.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Monday, March 01, 2010
I wrote this one yesterday at fiction workshop (remember, i also ran a marathon in the morning, so excuse any spelling or idea mistakes!)
(workshops directed by Mr Spurgeon Thompson)
The Lollipop
I am asleep. Deep, deeper, more sunken than any other nights.
My open eye is making the sheets,
snore by snore, body so exhausted
the eye works so slowly that I am left white
The carpet in the room stands up billowing dust
a boy appears behind and throws it out in the pool.
I get up stark naked, hands over jewels, and I see him, full.
“I have a lollipop to replace the carpet” he says
He is cute, I’m mad, reminiscence of Da Vinci’s quests.
“Can I tell you your secrets?” he asks
I say he would have no clue, no rhyme
Boy in fury starts unraveling this ball of yarn
“Hold the lollipop!” I start licking just to hear about
the day I last peed in my bed
how I made my father laugh when she died
the fastidious lollipop she gave me the night she passed away
Just as both my eyes tackle the sheets
he jumps off the window into the pool
to land flat on the carpet
as he departs I still hear him shout my secrets in the distance
“You cheated from my test and I got busted!”
“the bike you lent me is still in my dad’s garage!”
“your father was screwing my mother too”
“I am the only one you can trust”
I shall not trust him if he ever reappears.
The lollipop is nearly done, my eyes leap for the carpet in the pool.
(workshops directed by Mr Spurgeon Thompson)
The Lollipop
I am asleep. Deep, deeper, more sunken than any other nights.
My open eye is making the sheets,
snore by snore, body so exhausted
the eye works so slowly that I am left white
The carpet in the room stands up billowing dust
a boy appears behind and throws it out in the pool.
I get up stark naked, hands over jewels, and I see him, full.
“I have a lollipop to replace the carpet” he says
He is cute, I’m mad, reminiscence of Da Vinci’s quests.
“Can I tell you your secrets?” he asks
I say he would have no clue, no rhyme
Boy in fury starts unraveling this ball of yarn
“Hold the lollipop!” I start licking just to hear about
the day I last peed in my bed
how I made my father laugh when she died
the fastidious lollipop she gave me the night she passed away
Just as both my eyes tackle the sheets
he jumps off the window into the pool
to land flat on the carpet
as he departs I still hear him shout my secrets in the distance
“You cheated from my test and I got busted!”
“the bike you lent me is still in my dad’s garage!”
“your father was screwing my mother too”
“I am the only one you can trust”
I shall not trust him if he ever reappears.
The lollipop is nearly done, my eyes leap for the carpet in the pool.
I wrote this one yesterday at fiction workshop
(directed by Mr Spurgeon Thompson)
(directed by Mr Spurgeon Thompson)
Thirteen ways of looking at a silver spoon
I
A silver spoon would dive in a soup bowl
and in reverse dive out loaded
soup would never do the same to its pot.
What hand would mystify
this ritual of prudence?
II
Fast moving hands over a table,
dishes flying,
salads uplifted and surrendered
I never gave my silver spoon to
though everyone else gave theirs in.
III
In times when nothingness was valued,
at wars and major disasters,
Would you have lent me your silver spoon
for a sip of the rain water on the roof?
Or would you bend it for the wish well?
IV
a boy and his father
pee together for sanitation
in their backyard planted with silver spoons
V
a silver spoon was digging
deep-deep-deep until it reached its tail
and died
VI
Death visited me one day
dude, I protracted my silver spoon
She saw her face in the silver cavity distorted
“why the silver one?” I heard as she was being absorbed
VII
Absorbents, disinfectants, pesticides
petrified at the sight of silver spoons,
especially the classic or baroque
– email lost_animations@densey.com with an answer -
VIII
Some pusillanimity is likely
when fighting the knight of silver spoons at nights
Beware! He might cut you in circles
IX
The cycle of life
decoded by the hunter of golden dreams
sadly a cipher again
embargoed by the secret society
of SI.SPO.
X
Venus would feed her children everything
everything with silver spoons
each child had her name on the hollow surface
-except the poor boy-
XI
If you ask me why I bought a silver spoon
I would go about saying that
bending it defies pitiful shows with forks
XII
Roll a silver spoon down Mount Everest
and blame me for the silvery avalanche
pinning you down as you observe
XIII
Admit it mother,
without your silver spoon dancing its tango
your father would be mine
I
A silver spoon would dive in a soup bowl
and in reverse dive out loaded
soup would never do the same to its pot.
What hand would mystify
this ritual of prudence?
II
Fast moving hands over a table,
dishes flying,
salads uplifted and surrendered
I never gave my silver spoon to
though everyone else gave theirs in.
III
In times when nothingness was valued,
at wars and major disasters,
Would you have lent me your silver spoon
for a sip of the rain water on the roof?
Or would you bend it for the wish well?
IV
a boy and his father
pee together for sanitation
in their backyard planted with silver spoons
V
a silver spoon was digging
deep-deep-deep until it reached its tail
and died
VI
Death visited me one day
dude, I protracted my silver spoon
She saw her face in the silver cavity distorted
“why the silver one?” I heard as she was being absorbed
VII
Absorbents, disinfectants, pesticides
petrified at the sight of silver spoons,
especially the classic or baroque
– email lost_animations@densey.com with an answer -
VIII
Some pusillanimity is likely
when fighting the knight of silver spoons at nights
Beware! He might cut you in circles
IX
The cycle of life
decoded by the hunter of golden dreams
sadly a cipher again
embargoed by the secret society
of SI.SPO.
X
Venus would feed her children everything
everything with silver spoons
each child had her name on the hollow surface
-except the poor boy-
XI
If you ask me why I bought a silver spoon
I would go about saying that
bending it defies pitiful shows with forks
XII
Roll a silver spoon down Mount Everest
and blame me for the silvery avalanche
pinning you down as you observe
XIII
Admit it mother,
without your silver spoon dancing its tango
your father would be mine
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