Τετάρτη 30 Σεπτεμβρίου 2009
Τετάρτη 23 Σεπτεμβρίου 2009
Requiem για μια παραλία της Κρήτης...
Within the fire
And out upon the sea
Crazy man Michael was walking
He met with a raven
With eyes black as coal
And shortly they were talking
your future, your future
I will tell to you
Your future
You often have asked me
Your true love will die
By your own right hand
And crazy man Michael
Will cursed be
Michael he ranted
And Michael he raved
And he beat at the four winds
With his fists-o
He laughed and he cried
He shouted and he swore
For his mad mind
Entrapped him with a fist-hold
you speak with an evil
You speak with a hate
You speak for the devil
That haunts me
For is she not the fairest
In all the broad land?
Your sorcerers words
Are to taunt me
He took out his dagger
Of fine and broad steel
And he struck down the raven
Through the heart-o
The bird fluttered long
And the sky it did spin
And this cold earth did
Wander round startled
Oh where is the raven
That I struck down dead
And here did lye
On the ground-o?
I see my true love
With a wound so red
Where her lovers heart
It did pound-o
Crazy man Michael
He wanders Im told
And he talks through
The night and the day-o
But his eyes they are sane
And his speech is plain
But he longs to be far away-o
Michael he whistles
The simplest of tunes
As he asks of the wild wolves
Their pardon
But his true love has flown
Into every flower grown
And he must be keeper
Of the garden
And out upon the sea
Crazy man Michael was walking
He met with a raven
With eyes black as coal
And shortly they were talking
your future, your future
I will tell to you
Your future
You often have asked me
Your true love will die
By your own right hand
And crazy man Michael
Will cursed be
Michael he ranted
And Michael he raved
And he beat at the four winds
With his fists-o
He laughed and he cried
He shouted and he swore
For his mad mind
Entrapped him with a fist-hold
you speak with an evil
You speak with a hate
You speak for the devil
That haunts me
For is she not the fairest
In all the broad land?
Your sorcerers words
Are to taunt me
He took out his dagger
Of fine and broad steel
And he struck down the raven
Through the heart-o
The bird fluttered long
And the sky it did spin
And this cold earth did
Wander round startled
Oh where is the raven
That I struck down dead
And here did lye
On the ground-o?
I see my true love
With a wound so red
Where her lovers heart
It did pound-o
Crazy man Michael
He wanders Im told
And he talks through
The night and the day-o
But his eyes they are sane
And his speech is plain
But he longs to be far away-o
Michael he whistles
The simplest of tunes
As he asks of the wild wolves
Their pardon
But his true love has flown
Into every flower grown
And he must be keeper
Of the garden
Τρίτη 22 Σεπτεμβρίου 2009
Δευτέρα 21 Σεπτεμβρίου 2009
Charles Bukowski - The most beautiful woman in town.
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the
most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a
snake-like and fiery body with eyes to go with it. Cass was fluid moving
fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that would not hold her. Her
hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her body. Her
spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass.
Some said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never
understand Cass. To the men she was simply a sex machine and they didn't
care whether she was crazy or not. And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the
men, but except for an instance or two, when it came time to make it with
Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind
enough, but Cass had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she
made things of clay, and when people were hurt either in the spirit or the
flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them. Her mind was simply different;
her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous of her because
she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones;
the so-called handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They
are riding on their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all
surface and no insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she
had a temper that some call insanity. Her father had died of alchohol and
her mother had run off leaving the girls alone. The girls went to a relative
who placed them in a convent. The convent had been an unhappy place, more
for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and Cass fought
most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek
but the scar rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I
met her at the West End Bar several nights after her release from the
convent. Being youngest, she was the last of the sisters to be released. She
simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the ugliest man in town
and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that
night, it was simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was
as simple as that. No pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number
of them. She didn't seem quite of age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she
had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each time she came back from the
restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She was not only
the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her
handkerchief. She came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she
had run this long hatpin through her nose, sideways, just above the
nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me and laughed, "Now do
you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled the hatpin out
and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't
need your dramatics here."
"Oh, fuck you, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the
handkerchief to her nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some
beer and we sat there talking. It was then that I got the perception of her
as a person full of kindness and caring. She gave herself away without
knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of wildness and
incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went
to bed and after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one
in bed. She laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite
wonderful, her long black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her
glistening... She displayed her body calmly, as a good thing. She got under
the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run
over her body, through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began
to stroke slowly, wanting to make it last. Her eyes looked directly into
mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her
back to the bar but she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I
slept until 2 p.m. then got up and read the paper. I was in the bathtub when
she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elepahant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were
different but she seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then
we'd make love. One or two nights she phoned and I had to bail her out of
jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of bitches," she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men
can see beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never
forgotten Cass, but we'd had some type of arguement and I felt like moving
anyhow, and when I got back i figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting
in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when she walked in and sat down next to
me.
"Well, bastard, I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked
dress. I had never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in,
were 2 pins with glass heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins,
but the oins were driven down into her face.
"God damn you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten
bucks. But you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't
stay. You don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like
you you know it's for something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a
fascinating face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a
beautiful woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place
and I opened a bottle of wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came
easy. She talked a while and I would listen and then i would talk. Our
conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed to discover secrets
together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh- only
the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we
kissed and moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go
to bed. It was then that Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it-
the ugly jagged scar across her throat. It was large and thick.
"God damn you, woman," I said from the bed, "god damn you, what have
you done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more?
Am I still beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and
laughed, "Some men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I
keep the ten. It's very funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, bitch, I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears.
The long black hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made
slow and sombre and wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making
breakfast. She seemed quite calm and happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed
and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over and shook me,
"Up, bastard! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come
enjoy the feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer
so things were splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns
above the sand. Others sat on stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls
whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old ladies in their 70's and 80's
sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left behind by husbands
long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all, there was
peace in the air and we walked about and stratched on the lawns and didn't
say much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of
sandwiches, some chips and drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held
Cass and we slept together about an hour. It was somehow better than
lovemaking. There was flowing together without tension. When we awakened we
drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested to
Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she
slowly said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and
walked out. I found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest
of the week went to working. I was too tired to get about much but that
Friday night I did get to the West End Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours
went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender said to me, "I'm sorry
about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the
doorway at any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters,
the most beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept
thinking, I should have insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that
"no."Everything about her had indicated that she had cared. I simply had
been too offhand about it, lazy, too unconcerned. I deserved my death and
hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up and found a bottle of
wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town was
dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very
loud and persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD DAMN
YOU,YOU SON OF A BITCH ,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was
nothing I could do.
most beautiful girl in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a
snake-like and fiery body with eyes to go with it. Cass was fluid moving
fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that would not hold her. Her
hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her body. Her
spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass.
Some said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never
understand Cass. To the men she was simply a sex machine and they didn't
care whether she was crazy or not. And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the
men, but except for an instance or two, when it came time to make it with
Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind
enough, but Cass had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she
made things of clay, and when people were hurt either in the spirit or the
flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them. Her mind was simply different;
her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous of her because
she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones;
the so-called handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They
are riding on their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all
surface and no insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she
had a temper that some call insanity. Her father had died of alchohol and
her mother had run off leaving the girls alone. The girls went to a relative
who placed them in a convent. The convent had been an unhappy place, more
for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and Cass fought
most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek
but the scar rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I
met her at the West End Bar several nights after her release from the
convent. Being youngest, she was the last of the sisters to be released. She
simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the ugliest man in town
and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that
night, it was simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was
as simple as that. No pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number
of them. She didn't seem quite of age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she
had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each time she came back from the
restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She was not only
the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her
handkerchief. She came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she
had run this long hatpin through her nose, sideways, just above the
nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me and laughed, "Now do
you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled the hatpin out
and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't
need your dramatics here."
"Oh, fuck you, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the
handkerchief to her nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some
beer and we sat there talking. It was then that I got the perception of her
as a person full of kindness and caring. She gave herself away without
knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of wildness and
incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went
to bed and after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one
in bed. She laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite
wonderful, her long black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her
glistening... She displayed her body calmly, as a good thing. She got under
the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run
over her body, through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began
to stroke slowly, wanting to make it last. Her eyes looked directly into
mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her
back to the bar but she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I
slept until 2 p.m. then got up and read the paper. I was in the bathtub when
she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elepahant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were
different but she seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then
we'd make love. One or two nights she phoned and I had to bail her out of
jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of bitches," she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men
can see beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never
forgotten Cass, but we'd had some type of arguement and I felt like moving
anyhow, and when I got back i figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting
in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when she walked in and sat down next to
me.
"Well, bastard, I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked
dress. I had never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in,
were 2 pins with glass heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins,
but the oins were driven down into her face.
"God damn you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten
bucks. But you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't
stay. You don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like
you you know it's for something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a
fascinating face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a
beautiful woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place
and I opened a bottle of wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came
easy. She talked a while and I would listen and then i would talk. Our
conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed to discover secrets
together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh- only
the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we
kissed and moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go
to bed. It was then that Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it-
the ugly jagged scar across her throat. It was large and thick.
"God damn you, woman," I said from the bed, "god damn you, what have
you done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more?
Am I still beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and
laughed, "Some men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I
keep the ten. It's very funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, bitch, I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears.
The long black hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made
slow and sombre and wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making
breakfast. She seemed quite calm and happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed
and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over and shook me,
"Up, bastard! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come
enjoy the feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer
so things were splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns
above the sand. Others sat on stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls
whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old ladies in their 70's and 80's
sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left behind by husbands
long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all, there was
peace in the air and we walked about and stratched on the lawns and didn't
say much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of
sandwiches, some chips and drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held
Cass and we slept together about an hour. It was somehow better than
lovemaking. There was flowing together without tension. When we awakened we
drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested to
Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she
slowly said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and
walked out. I found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest
of the week went to working. I was too tired to get about much but that
Friday night I did get to the West End Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours
went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender said to me, "I'm sorry
about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the
doorway at any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters,
the most beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept
thinking, I should have insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that
"no."Everything about her had indicated that she had cared. I simply had
been too offhand about it, lazy, too unconcerned. I deserved my death and
hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up and found a bottle of
wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town was
dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very
loud and persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD DAMN
YOU,YOU SON OF A BITCH ,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was
nothing I could do.
Πέμπτη 3 Σεπτεμβρίου 2009
ΓΙΑ ΤΗΝ ΑΠΟΤΥΧΙΑ ΜΙΑΣ ΜΙΚΡΗΣ ΚΟΙΝΩΝΙΑΣ ΣΤΗΝ ΕΠΙΤΕΥΞΗ ΤΩΝ ΔΙΚΩΝ ΤΗΣ ΚΑΚΟΟΡΙΣΜΕΝΩΝ ΟΝΕΙΡΩΝ ΚΑΙ ΣΤΟΧΩΝ...
Ακολουθεί ένα κειμενάκι που ψάρεψα από το φόρουμ του indymedia
(http://athens.indymedia.org/front.php3?lang=el&article_id=1073509)
και μου έφερε στο μυαλό τις καταλήψεις που χτυπήθηκαν ή γκρεμίστηκαν κατα τη διάρκεια του καλοκαιριού την ώρα που κάποιοι(ναι κ γώ) μακρυά αρμενίζαμε .
ΓΙΑ ΤΗΝ ΑΠΟΤΥΧΙΑ ΜΙΑΣ ΜΙΚΡΗΣ ΚΟΙΝΩΝΙΑΣ ΣΤΗΝ ΕΠΙΤΕΥΞΗ ΤΩΝ ΔΙΚΩΝ ΤΗΣ ΚΑΚΟΟΡΙΣΜΕΝΩΝ ΟΝΕΙΡΩΝ ΚΑΙ ΣΤΟΧΩΝ...
Κι ήμασταν ένας στρατός από νεκρές γυναίκες και νεκρούς άντρες, περιπλανώμενοι άσκοπα πέρα δώθε σε αυτόν το λαμπρό νέο αιώνα με όλα τα διαδραστικά παιχνίδια του, τη διαδικτυακή φλυαρία, τις ηλεκτρισμένες περιοριστικές συσκευές, τις ακτίνες θανάτου των δισεκατομυρίων δολλαρίων και τα γιγαντιαία σωφρονιστήρια και τις γαμημένες, αιώνια εξευγενισμένες, παράλογες και τελματικές οικονομίες του αίματος, της μιζέριας και της αργόσυρτης γαμημένης καταδίκης...Και παρακαλώ μάθετε, ή επιτέλους κατανοήστε ότι ο δίσκος αυτός είναι τόσο γαμημένα άχρηστος όσο μια μονόπλευρη μεταβίβαση, όπως όλες οι μονόπλευρες μεταβιβάσεις πρέπει να πάψουν να υπάρχουν για πάντα επιτέλους...Μέσα σε αυτόν τον ήδη υπάρχοντα κυκεώνα ραδιενέργειας, ηλεκτρισμού και θορύβου και κραυγών και ψεμμάτων...και λοιπόν κι όμως κάποια στιγμή κάπου μια μικροσκοπική δράση πήρε ίσως το δρόμο της και κανείς από μας δεν άκουσε μέχρι τώρα γι’αυτό (και η γη συνέχισε την αργή περιστροφή της ανεξάρτητα απ’αυτό)... Κι έτσι όλοι ξυπνήσαμε με χανκόβερ και πάντα περισσότερο κουρασμένοι ή περισσοτερο στοιχειωμένοι ή φοβισμένοι και μόλις που μπορούσαμε να περιπλανηθούμε για λίγο ακόμα...Και ενώ κοιμόμασταν πήραν μέχρι και τις γειτονιές μας μακριά κι όλα μετατράπηκαν σε Ντίσνειλαντ και μαριονέττες και ροχάλες... Δεν επιτρέπονται άλλες γοητευτικές, δίχως στόχο περιπλανήσεις, όχι άλλες μεγάλες νύχτες αλητείας που καίγονται με πιθανότητες, θαυμασμό ή χαρά... Όχι εδώ, όχι!. όχι με το θέαμα του αναμένου φάρου μπατσικού και με παρκόμετρα που σου μετρούν το χρόνο και όλα τα «Ναι, μπορείς να ζήσεις εδώ, αλλά δεν μπορείς να ζήσεις εδώ.. Εννοώ ότι μπορείς να πληρώνεις το νοίκι σου με λίγη καθυστέρηση, αλλα μέχρι εκεί φίλε μου και μην το ξεχάσεις αυτό έτσι? χο χο χο»....Και μάθαμε τους κανόνες πάρα πολύ καλά. Κι άλλαξαν τον τρόπο που νιώθαμε και ζούσαμε κι αναπνέαμε έκτοτε. Και τι σχετικά με τη δικιά μας ιστορία, όπου ο καθένας εγκαταλείπει τον άλλο, επειδή ήμασταν πολύ απασχολημένοι με τον εαυτό μας για να καταλάβουμε πόσο μόνοι νιώθαμε σχεδόν όλη την ώρα? (εννοώντας ότι όλοι φερόμασταν ο ένας προς τον άλλο πραγματικαπραγματικαπραγματικα άσχημα φίλε μου)... Και κατασκευάσαμε τις δικές μας νευρωτικές σαπουνόπερες με τις βαρετές και λυπηρές μας σχέσεις και την ειρωνεία, την τηλεόραση και τα κοκτέηλ... Και μέσα στην αιώνια αδυναμία μας καταλάβαμε ότι τα πάντα ήταν ποικιλοτρόπως σκατά! Κι έτσι μήπως θα΄πρεπε κι εμείς να συνηθίσουμε τη μυρωδιά?.. Και συγκεντρωνόμασταν σε συμβιβασμένα σαλόνια γεμάτα αναθυμιάσεις αποτυχίας, απόστασης και αυτοαποξένωσης.. κι έτσι ποτέ δεν συναντηθήκαμε. Και αφού ποτέ δεν συναντηθήκαμε, ποτέ δεν σχεδιάσαμε ή οργανώσαμε ή διαδηλώσαμε τα γκρεμισμένα όνειρα που δεν χρειαζόταν να είναι και καθόλου γκρεμισμένα στην τελική..
Και ποτέ δεν καταλάβαμε πώς να εναντιωθούμε σ’όλους αυτούς τους πράους μεσάζοντες της ανάρρωσης, που πάντοτε έκλεβαν τις πιο λαμπρές μας ελπίδες και τις έστελναν μακρια με δορυφόρους, με 59$ την ώρα.. (και θα μας πιστεύατε εάν σας λέγαμε ότι έχουμε φτιάξει μια μηχανή που μπορεί να ρίξει όλους τους γαμημένους δορυφόρους σας κάτω?) και τα επιχειρήματα υπέρ και κατά δεν ήταν ποτέ σύνθετα αλλά ήταν σίγουρα διαολεμένα ξεκάθαρα... Και κατασκεύασαμε βραδέα ιόντα και πιστέψαμε ότι ήμασταν αντάρτες, αλλά ήμασταν πολύ ευσυγκίνητοι ή αλλιώς εντελώς αναίσθητοι..και ποτέ δεν ορμήσαμε ενάντια στις πύλες ή τους τοίχους, αλλά φτιάξαμε αδέξια πράγματα με τα χέρια μας..Κι αυτά τα πράγματα ήταν σημαντικά για μας.. Αυτούς τους αδέξιους, αφηρημένους πύργους, τους φτιάξαμε με τα δικά μας βασανισμένα χέρια?.. και χτίσαμε στις δικές μας μπερδεμένες κοσμοθεωρίες, που ήταν ατέλειωτα και καθοριστικά όμορφα μέσα στους πεισματάρικους κόμβους της απώλειας, στενοχώριας, πίστης και ανάγκης.. και κάναμε μικρές χειρονομίες με τα χέρια ή τα μάτια μας που ήταν αέναα λυτρωτικές και μας έκαναν όλους μερικές φορές σχεδόν να πιστεύουμε σε αγίους ή σε αγγέλους.. και ονειρευόμασταν ξύπνιοι διαρκώς σχετικά με τη ζωή άλλες φορές πιο ήσυχα κι άλλες φορές κάπως πιο δυνατά... και σχεδόν πάντοτε μοχθούσαμε για λιγάκι παραπάνω σχέση με αυτόν τον υπό διάλυση γαμημένο κόσμο.. ή σκληρύναμε τη διάλυση μας μερικές φορές και γύραμε τα κεφάλια μας και τις πλάτες μας στα καθήκοντά μας.. και σκάψαμε και χτίσαμε ή ανεγείραμε..ή μεταβιβάσαμε περιστασιακές θεοφάνειες κατεπείγοντος φόβου με φωτοτυπικά, διαφάνειες και cd-r’s...Και βρήκαμε απαντήσεις κάποιες φορές σε άδειους χώρους, όπως σε σμήνη από πουλιά που φεύγουν πετώντας από νεκρά κτίρια κάτω απ΄του ήλιου την εκτυφλωτική λευκή τρύπα.. όπως δέντρα που μεγαλώνουν ανάμεσα σε φράκτες ή μέσα σ’ενα εγκαταλλειμένο σκουριασμένο δοχείο με νερό αφημένο εκεί έξω, πίσω απ’τον σιδηροδρομικό σταθμό των μεγάλων τρένων... Και βρήκαμε ελπίδα, στην ιδέα μιας μάταιης χειρονομίας.. και διαδηλώσαμε κάποιες φορές με τούβλα στα χέρια μας.. και χτίσαμε κάτι εδώ παρολαυτά και δεν θα τους αφήσουμε να μας το πάρουν τόσο εύκολα... Γι’αυτό κι εγώ σας παρακαλώ, ναι σας παρακαλώ, ας συνειδητοποιήσουμε σύντομα τί ακριβώς μπορούμε να χτίσουμε εδώ σ’αυτό το καμένο και χέρσο έδαφος (ξέροντας εκ των προτέρων ότι αργά ή γρήγορα οι μπουλντόζες τους θα έρθουν και θα τα κάνουν όλα κομμάτια)... αλλά μπορούμε να το χτίσουμε παρολαυτα και να αφήσουμε σκονισμένα σημειώματα σχετικά με τα ταξίδια μας... και η αντίσταση άνθισε σε ευαίσθητες περιοχές και δώσαμε τον καλό αγώνα οποτεδήποτε κλονίζονταν οι μοναχικές, διεστραμμένες διαδρομές μας...
Ενθετο κείμενο στο δίσκο “Born into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward” από τους “Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-la-la band”
Μετάφραση: Μεθυσμένο Καράβι
(http://athens.indymedia.org/front.php3?lang=el&article_id=1073509)
και μου έφερε στο μυαλό τις καταλήψεις που χτυπήθηκαν ή γκρεμίστηκαν κατα τη διάρκεια του καλοκαιριού την ώρα που κάποιοι(ναι κ γώ) μακρυά αρμενίζαμε .
ΓΙΑ ΤΗΝ ΑΠΟΤΥΧΙΑ ΜΙΑΣ ΜΙΚΡΗΣ ΚΟΙΝΩΝΙΑΣ ΣΤΗΝ ΕΠΙΤΕΥΞΗ ΤΩΝ ΔΙΚΩΝ ΤΗΣ ΚΑΚΟΟΡΙΣΜΕΝΩΝ ΟΝΕΙΡΩΝ ΚΑΙ ΣΤΟΧΩΝ...
Κι ήμασταν ένας στρατός από νεκρές γυναίκες και νεκρούς άντρες, περιπλανώμενοι άσκοπα πέρα δώθε σε αυτόν το λαμπρό νέο αιώνα με όλα τα διαδραστικά παιχνίδια του, τη διαδικτυακή φλυαρία, τις ηλεκτρισμένες περιοριστικές συσκευές, τις ακτίνες θανάτου των δισεκατομυρίων δολλαρίων και τα γιγαντιαία σωφρονιστήρια και τις γαμημένες, αιώνια εξευγενισμένες, παράλογες και τελματικές οικονομίες του αίματος, της μιζέριας και της αργόσυρτης γαμημένης καταδίκης...Και παρακαλώ μάθετε, ή επιτέλους κατανοήστε ότι ο δίσκος αυτός είναι τόσο γαμημένα άχρηστος όσο μια μονόπλευρη μεταβίβαση, όπως όλες οι μονόπλευρες μεταβιβάσεις πρέπει να πάψουν να υπάρχουν για πάντα επιτέλους...Μέσα σε αυτόν τον ήδη υπάρχοντα κυκεώνα ραδιενέργειας, ηλεκτρισμού και θορύβου και κραυγών και ψεμμάτων...και λοιπόν κι όμως κάποια στιγμή κάπου μια μικροσκοπική δράση πήρε ίσως το δρόμο της και κανείς από μας δεν άκουσε μέχρι τώρα γι’αυτό (και η γη συνέχισε την αργή περιστροφή της ανεξάρτητα απ’αυτό)... Κι έτσι όλοι ξυπνήσαμε με χανκόβερ και πάντα περισσότερο κουρασμένοι ή περισσοτερο στοιχειωμένοι ή φοβισμένοι και μόλις που μπορούσαμε να περιπλανηθούμε για λίγο ακόμα...Και ενώ κοιμόμασταν πήραν μέχρι και τις γειτονιές μας μακριά κι όλα μετατράπηκαν σε Ντίσνειλαντ και μαριονέττες και ροχάλες... Δεν επιτρέπονται άλλες γοητευτικές, δίχως στόχο περιπλανήσεις, όχι άλλες μεγάλες νύχτες αλητείας που καίγονται με πιθανότητες, θαυμασμό ή χαρά... Όχι εδώ, όχι!. όχι με το θέαμα του αναμένου φάρου μπατσικού και με παρκόμετρα που σου μετρούν το χρόνο και όλα τα «Ναι, μπορείς να ζήσεις εδώ, αλλά δεν μπορείς να ζήσεις εδώ.. Εννοώ ότι μπορείς να πληρώνεις το νοίκι σου με λίγη καθυστέρηση, αλλα μέχρι εκεί φίλε μου και μην το ξεχάσεις αυτό έτσι? χο χο χο»....Και μάθαμε τους κανόνες πάρα πολύ καλά. Κι άλλαξαν τον τρόπο που νιώθαμε και ζούσαμε κι αναπνέαμε έκτοτε. Και τι σχετικά με τη δικιά μας ιστορία, όπου ο καθένας εγκαταλείπει τον άλλο, επειδή ήμασταν πολύ απασχολημένοι με τον εαυτό μας για να καταλάβουμε πόσο μόνοι νιώθαμε σχεδόν όλη την ώρα? (εννοώντας ότι όλοι φερόμασταν ο ένας προς τον άλλο πραγματικαπραγματικαπραγματικα άσχημα φίλε μου)... Και κατασκευάσαμε τις δικές μας νευρωτικές σαπουνόπερες με τις βαρετές και λυπηρές μας σχέσεις και την ειρωνεία, την τηλεόραση και τα κοκτέηλ... Και μέσα στην αιώνια αδυναμία μας καταλάβαμε ότι τα πάντα ήταν ποικιλοτρόπως σκατά! Κι έτσι μήπως θα΄πρεπε κι εμείς να συνηθίσουμε τη μυρωδιά?.. Και συγκεντρωνόμασταν σε συμβιβασμένα σαλόνια γεμάτα αναθυμιάσεις αποτυχίας, απόστασης και αυτοαποξένωσης.. κι έτσι ποτέ δεν συναντηθήκαμε. Και αφού ποτέ δεν συναντηθήκαμε, ποτέ δεν σχεδιάσαμε ή οργανώσαμε ή διαδηλώσαμε τα γκρεμισμένα όνειρα που δεν χρειαζόταν να είναι και καθόλου γκρεμισμένα στην τελική..
Και ποτέ δεν καταλάβαμε πώς να εναντιωθούμε σ’όλους αυτούς τους πράους μεσάζοντες της ανάρρωσης, που πάντοτε έκλεβαν τις πιο λαμπρές μας ελπίδες και τις έστελναν μακρια με δορυφόρους, με 59$ την ώρα.. (και θα μας πιστεύατε εάν σας λέγαμε ότι έχουμε φτιάξει μια μηχανή που μπορεί να ρίξει όλους τους γαμημένους δορυφόρους σας κάτω?) και τα επιχειρήματα υπέρ και κατά δεν ήταν ποτέ σύνθετα αλλά ήταν σίγουρα διαολεμένα ξεκάθαρα... Και κατασκεύασαμε βραδέα ιόντα και πιστέψαμε ότι ήμασταν αντάρτες, αλλά ήμασταν πολύ ευσυγκίνητοι ή αλλιώς εντελώς αναίσθητοι..και ποτέ δεν ορμήσαμε ενάντια στις πύλες ή τους τοίχους, αλλά φτιάξαμε αδέξια πράγματα με τα χέρια μας..Κι αυτά τα πράγματα ήταν σημαντικά για μας.. Αυτούς τους αδέξιους, αφηρημένους πύργους, τους φτιάξαμε με τα δικά μας βασανισμένα χέρια?.. και χτίσαμε στις δικές μας μπερδεμένες κοσμοθεωρίες, που ήταν ατέλειωτα και καθοριστικά όμορφα μέσα στους πεισματάρικους κόμβους της απώλειας, στενοχώριας, πίστης και ανάγκης.. και κάναμε μικρές χειρονομίες με τα χέρια ή τα μάτια μας που ήταν αέναα λυτρωτικές και μας έκαναν όλους μερικές φορές σχεδόν να πιστεύουμε σε αγίους ή σε αγγέλους.. και ονειρευόμασταν ξύπνιοι διαρκώς σχετικά με τη ζωή άλλες φορές πιο ήσυχα κι άλλες φορές κάπως πιο δυνατά... και σχεδόν πάντοτε μοχθούσαμε για λιγάκι παραπάνω σχέση με αυτόν τον υπό διάλυση γαμημένο κόσμο.. ή σκληρύναμε τη διάλυση μας μερικές φορές και γύραμε τα κεφάλια μας και τις πλάτες μας στα καθήκοντά μας.. και σκάψαμε και χτίσαμε ή ανεγείραμε..ή μεταβιβάσαμε περιστασιακές θεοφάνειες κατεπείγοντος φόβου με φωτοτυπικά, διαφάνειες και cd-r’s...Και βρήκαμε απαντήσεις κάποιες φορές σε άδειους χώρους, όπως σε σμήνη από πουλιά που φεύγουν πετώντας από νεκρά κτίρια κάτω απ΄του ήλιου την εκτυφλωτική λευκή τρύπα.. όπως δέντρα που μεγαλώνουν ανάμεσα σε φράκτες ή μέσα σ’ενα εγκαταλλειμένο σκουριασμένο δοχείο με νερό αφημένο εκεί έξω, πίσω απ’τον σιδηροδρομικό σταθμό των μεγάλων τρένων... Και βρήκαμε ελπίδα, στην ιδέα μιας μάταιης χειρονομίας.. και διαδηλώσαμε κάποιες φορές με τούβλα στα χέρια μας.. και χτίσαμε κάτι εδώ παρολαυτά και δεν θα τους αφήσουμε να μας το πάρουν τόσο εύκολα... Γι’αυτό κι εγώ σας παρακαλώ, ναι σας παρακαλώ, ας συνειδητοποιήσουμε σύντομα τί ακριβώς μπορούμε να χτίσουμε εδώ σ’αυτό το καμένο και χέρσο έδαφος (ξέροντας εκ των προτέρων ότι αργά ή γρήγορα οι μπουλντόζες τους θα έρθουν και θα τα κάνουν όλα κομμάτια)... αλλά μπορούμε να το χτίσουμε παρολαυτα και να αφήσουμε σκονισμένα σημειώματα σχετικά με τα ταξίδια μας... και η αντίσταση άνθισε σε ευαίσθητες περιοχές και δώσαμε τον καλό αγώνα οποτεδήποτε κλονίζονταν οι μοναχικές, διεστραμμένες διαδρομές μας...
Ενθετο κείμενο στο δίσκο “Born into Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward” από τους “Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-la-la band”
Μετάφραση: Μεθυσμένο Καράβι
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