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~Sung in the background by Chavela Vargas, in deep flamenco voice~
The Island sometimes resembles a bee-hive. All those people buzzing around in constant pursuit of their dreams and desires. Within their microcosmoses the islanders are completely unaware of mutual life dramas as they are passing eachother by, their energy fields bouncing between them and bouncing off the sea and skies that sorround them.
But if one ventures to rise his gaze, all this chaos immediately stops in the tranquility of huge clowds silently travelling vast skies like some odd sailing vessels.
They have known each other for years now. Very well indeed and yet they have never exchanged a single word. They are meeting purely by chance in restaurants, bars, clubs, beaches, promenades. The scenery always different, the scenario always the same.
Whether crowded room or an open space, long before they set eyes upon each other they will both feel certain restlessness and a strange stifled primeval longing, unexplainable to higher senses.When their gazes finally meet she will subtly but visibly sway back as if trying to absorb the impact of the plasmic ball of energy he unwittingly launches out of his astral body. After she overcomes this initial shock she gradually shiftsinto complete acceptance, launching her own body of energy to merge with his in a shadowy-like dance.But after a while her mind takes control and she will swagger again but this time to shake off the spell. To find the energy for this final battle she will hold on tightly to the arm of her man. After this last upheaval motionelessnes and blank stare settles on her face. He knows every little detail and every phase of this transformation.Astonishment is always fresh for him asthe heat so suddenly explodes in the insides soon to be transmuted into a bunch of butterflies trying to escape the jar they are contained in.
Once he was so close behind her he could safely admire every detail of the texture she is made of. After she started swaying in familiar way he knew that she has become aware of his presence. She actually touched his body accidentally during the usual sway but withdrew suddenly as if touching molten lava. His hand almost went up to pull up unfinished zipper of her evening gown. He almost pouted his lips to gently blow up defiant little hairs that fell on the back of her long neck.
Last night he was admiring full moon from his window. All of the sudden he could see her in his mind's eye. Exactly like moonlight she is! Mysteriously elusive and indefinable.
Never before have I met a woman to match my passion for Alexandrian Quartet of L. Durell .
She is Durell's Justine, Modesty Blaze and Mimi from Polanski's Bitter Moon, all in one person. In short she is the woman I always dreamed of.
Unfortunately our paths crossed only in virtual reality. In real reality she might be unsightly obese women with thick glasses, bad complexion and thinning hair living life which is not her own.
In actual reality what a glorious day it was today, while driving along the coast I picked a beautiful cloud as a gift for Justine
I like to think of myself as an honest man, an honourable member of society.
But when I get behind the wheel strange demonic possession takes place and I become a Beelzebub himself.
My island is quite small but abundant with cars, on average every household having at least three. The streets are narrow, roads full of holes. Add Mediterranean temperament to this mixture and you have a perfect recipe for nerve wrecking chaos.
Of course we do have traffic rules but only life saving rule on our little island is - "Do not assume other drivers will abide by the traffic rules! " As they say: If you assume you are an ass! But in this case if you assume you will also loose your no-claim bonus.
Do not expect drivers to stop where there is a stop sign, don’t even expect them to slow down or look before entering main street. Also do not be surprised if the car before you stops in the middle of a busy road, for God's sake the driver needs cigarettes, or maybe he just feels like a chat with a passer by.
These are almost normal occurrences and after a while you sort of learn to tolerate them. But something I will never learn to put up with is discovering new route to get to work every new morning. Commuting to work in fact seems like being in a computer game, you know those labyrinth type games, where apart from the different obstacles you must work very hard to find a way out. The island is constantly under construction, everlasting process of tearing the old buildings down and erecting new ones. Consequently you will find cranes obstructing different streets on a daily bases. To make things worse, according to Murphy's Law of misfortunate events these cranes are usually lurking in the very bottom of the road, only when you enter deep inside you realize you cannot pass. Alas too late, there is already a big line of cars hooting behind you.
According to the same law, particularly when you are being late, somewhere along the way there is bound to be an ancient truck to jolt in front of you with its last breath of speed. After it has spent all its force to get there this truck will inevitably slow down and for the rest of the trip you will have to drag like a snail behind them in a thick cloud of smoke.
But, the worst are the grannies. They come in all sizes and shapes. Clean, nice, sweet, ugly or dirty. But whatever the appearance they all have one thing in common, it takes them ages to cross the road. They are moving serenely like a slow motion picture completely oblivious to the traffic they are obstructing.
So no wonder I become a monster when faced with all this. The amount of curses and the richness of the foul language I am fluently oozing while driving sometimes takes even myself by surprise. Especially the level of ingenuity I exhibit when creating these sailor's blessings. Not once I laughed after voicing these obscenities and curses I came up with. Fortunately all of this is happening behind the closed windows, but I have to admit there were few occasions when window went down and also a birdie took a flight. Several times I was very close to stopping the car, getting out and grabbing the following driver by the neck , pulling him out through the window of his car. Come on, how thick skinned or stupid you have to be not to realize your bright lights are hurting the driver ahead ?!
This morning was no different, I was waiting an old bat at zebra crossing starting the usual obscene monologue but then all of the sudden I was ashamed. I have instantly became aware of something I always knew - everything you emit always comes back to you. And you can imagine what bad energy bad words are.
Therefore I have decided to change as of today. No foul word will ever come out of my mouth. When my pressure starts to rise I will think of green meadows or dolphins gliding through the blue water. Instead of a curses I will utter Buddhist mantras.
I swear here and now, never to use swear words anymore. I am going to get you Beelzebub, you are completely f....d ups! Ok, it starts, as of now...
Friday, January 21, 2005 - HOW TO VANQUISH A DEMON - A PRACTICAL GUIDE
The newspaper reported this morning:
"Britons be warned. Monday, January 24, is going to be the most depressing day of the year.
By using a complicated mathematical formula, psychologist Cliff Arnalls calculated the misery is about to peak in four days time.
Fading memories of Christmas, mounting festive debts, foul weather, failed New Year resolutions and the long dark nights create the perfect mix for gloom, says the Cardiff University expert who specialises in seasonal disorders."
I don't have anything to worry about. My worst day of the year has actully already passed. It started on the evening of January 19th and it lasted only for couple of hours. In my case no memories of Christmas, foul weather or festive debts were to blame. Just one phone call, and her voice - checking out from reality, ready to take a flight again. This was the culprit in my particular case and the beast broke out loose from its prison.
We have been fighting since 1984, me and my demon. He appears, we fight and then I push him and somehow lock him up in the darkest corner of my subconscience. But every now and then he breaks loose and we fight again...
This time it was different. This time I managed to tame the beast. In fact I turned it into a house pet.
When he reared his ugly head snarling like a rabid dog and glaring his flaming eyes I was taken aback. But then I grabbed it by the head, looked it straight in the eyes and then released it.
I am sure this is the only way to deal with this kind of pain. Kind of pains that are lifelong, bestowed upon us since the day we were born in the curious karmic whim. We can run as much as we like, they always catch up with us. The only way to survive these pains is to face them, not to fight them, just to look at them, acknowledge them for what they are, and for the role they play in our lives.
My pain has become a minute gremlin now, almost cute, like a mischievous child running through the chambers of my soul. He doesn't bother me that much. Every now and then he passes by, kicks my sheen, or bites my calf just to remind me he is still alive.
Sometimes it bleeds a bit but I just lick it off and face a new day with a smile.
Thursday, January 20, 2005 - UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF LIVING
or
MEANINGFULLY MEANINGLESS MEETINGS
This winter I prefer frequenting The Coffee Shop alone.
Holding the warm cup firmly between my stiff fingers, without any pretentious thoughts, just focusing on the present moment. Slowly sipping the aromatic liquid I become cup myself, absorbing the sounds, smells and tastes of my surroundings. No judgment whatsoever, just being completely in the present.
The Coffee Shop is my other home now and of course you cannot find better cappuccino anywhere else in the island. And just for the record, I am not really a coffee person at all, I can go days without even thinking of coffee. Yet, for some strange reason I like having cappuccino at this place.
The whole ritual usually starts with the exchange of friendly witticisms and wisecracks with Mr. Spiders from Mars. But after he gives me my coffee he leaves me in peace, as any succesful barmen should-good ol' Mr. Spiders from Mars senses people and instinctively knows when to leave them alone.
This has now become my usually daily routine, to mark the end of the first half of working day.
But in The Coffee Shop one's desire to be solitary is hardly fulfilled. Herman Hesse says in his Demian-"People of the same affinity and sensibility unconsciously attract each other." Therefore The Coffee Shop is normally a gallery of interesting characters. Some of them I like better than the other but I always enjoy observing these people, eavesdrop on their conversations. At times I amuse myself by inventing their life stories.
Sometimes I even talk to some of them but always safely tucked within the limits of casual chatting. These occasions are quite interesting , at first you can notice the excitement of two similar souls with the opportunity to communicate to each other, but then very soon ratio takes over resulting in both parties withdrawing and hiding behind the habitual conversational templates.
Today, the scenario was quite different. I was supposed to meet a very special friend of mine and I headed to my usual corner place. Only after I made myself comfortable did I notice the female purse and a pack of Dunhill lights left on a table In a casual manner.
Very soon it became obvious that these belong to the tall woman bending over the counter engaged in a friendly chat with Spiders from Mars.
All I could see were her high heeled legs stretching from here to eternity, nice perky derriere and dark hair.
I was sure I have never seen this woman before. Women's behinds are as expressive as their faces. Judging the buttocks you can learn a lot about the person they belong to, this especially relates to a person's outlook on life. The worst being prats of constant victims wallowing in self-pity. The nicest butts unlike their characters are tooshies of self -righteous know- it-all types.
Anyhow, when the owner of this magnificent hindquarters turned towards me, my heart literally missed a beat. Sofia Loren, in her late twenties. Big full lips, and big wide eyes under big faintly tinted sunglasses. Wide eyebrows perching on a big forehead. Big was the key word here. From the curves to facial features everything was big on this woman, but still you could hardly call her anything but tall and slender. In short she was beautiful.
ME: Sorry I didn't realize this table was taken
HER: Its OK, It's my fault, I shouldn't have left, but you know...
I get restless, If I was with someone I wouldn't
ME: You can chat with me, I don't mind...
Smile lights her face and she tells me her name, pulling out the stool and after she sat, she continues to slowly sip coffee from the cup she brought with her. I cannot think of anything else but how envious I am of her coffee cup, being teased in regular intervals by those succulent lips.
HER: R u local?
ME: Well I like to think of my self as local but I am originally from...
Blank expression on her face.
ME: You know, Blue Adriatic, Bella Dalmacia!
Still blank.
HER: You like it here?
ME: I guess, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Yep, I like it here.
HER: I suppose its not bad, but I get claustrophobic, it's so small,
sigh. Sometimes I just can't breathe ... but then I drive off
to the cliffs. It gets better then.
At this point I am already swept off my feet with her free spirit as much as with her radiant and soft skin. No need to touch it, one look and you know her skin feels like softest velvet.
It's a cold winter's day and she wears a tiny synthetic fur coat but beautiful cleavage teasingly peering from underneath. Oh boy how I wouldn't mind having that cleavage as my private tiny deserted island. I wouldn't feel claustrofobic at all not being able to breathe between those dovelike breasts.
Suddenly my date appears in the doorway. I turn to greet her and when I turn back I could see my new friend packing her belongings and getting ready to go.
ME: That was quick, not a proper way to enjoy coffee..
HER: I told you - I get restless...
With a big smile she disappears into a gray day leaving me only with a faint scent of her perfume.
In Social Encyclopedia, also known as Spiders from Mars you can find following entries for the desired item:
- Bitch, used to be Miss Something
- Happily married to a Danish guy
- Has children
So what, did I ever say I was going to marry her?!
Still it felt like someone detonated a stink-bomb in my insides. You know, nothing stinks worse then disappointment.
I think I will reek with it for the rest of the day.
Almodovar has one really great movie. He made it in the begining of the 90-ies, while his creative juices were at their peak, before he entered his dark phase.
This movie is very bright, vibrant with colours and flambouyant characters. In Spanish it's called Atame! Which translates Tie me or as american distributors prefer Tie me up, tie me down!
I saw this movie for the second time after almost ten years. This happened more than a week ago, and strangely enough it still keeps coming back to me. To be exact one scene keeps resounding in my mind.
It is a closing sceene, after a day of great sex, or if you like juicy primeval shaging, sultry to die for- Victoria Abril and her latin lover Antonio Banderas are enlightened with realisation they are meant for each other and they will probably spend the rest of their lives together....
Totally surprising happyending, after she was kidnapped by him and in the process we learned all about their fucked-up life stories.
Real treat for the likes of me, firm beleivers in favourable life outcomes. This is the sceene:
Its a sunny afternoon, they are in the small car together with her chubby sister. While driving through teracotta coulored Spanish landscape they are visibly overwhelmed with good feelings. Chubby puts in the tape and plays the song called Resistir. Its a cheesy sounding song, Spanish soft pop with a lot of dam, bam, bam sounds. All in all a catchy tune. They are singing aloud and soon you end up singing with them. While singing, Victoria is shedding tears of joy. She is holding Antonios's hand, chubby sister caressing his cheek.
Perfect image of perfect family in making and then they fade into the Spanish sunset.
For last couple of days this song has been stuck in my head.
I cannot speak a word of Spanish. Nevertheless, I keep singing this song, especially while driving.
I even translated it in my mind, it goes something like this:
I resist...
I resist fucked up life beginnings and heavy burdens,
I resist destiny and bad luck,
I resist pain deep within,
Actually - fuck you all,
I will be the winner in the end,
One day I will be the one to fade into the sunset
with my Victoria Abril...
How strange, I used to believe my life was quite perfect. I am not so sure anymore...
Saturday, January 15, 2005 - I LOVE MANKIND, IT'S THE PEOPLE I CAN'T STAND
Maybe I have been idealizing my fellow islanders too much. So much so, that I forgot they are only human after all, nor better nor worse from the rest of human race. I took them for granted for all these years as being peace loving, soft and tolerant folk, incapable of any violence.
But couple of days ago Mr. Hyde side of human nature emerged; in short some of my island folk went mad.
It so happens that on a Forbidden Island dwells one group of people you will not run into so easy. The island is small indeed but you can easily live your life here completely oblivious to their existence. These people usually have very dark skin and they come from Africa, they are very poor and the only thing they have in abundance is the hope for a better life. Here In Europe we call them illegal immigrants. They live amongst us silently. Occasionally an odd article in newspapers stirs the surface, but then they quickly go back to oblivion. They are kept on the island as detainees. This being temporary solution to a problem without a solution.
On one hand we have these people swarming towards Europe as locusts, but unlike locust that rely on wind in search for new pastures these human beings spend all their life savings in the perilous attempt to cross the sea and start a new life in the promised land. Also very often these attempts end in tragedy.
On the other hand average inhabitant of the promised land shudders with innate fear when thinking of this constant invasion. This is especialy true for our tiny island where the space is so scarce, standing solitary on the forefront of such invasion.
In any case, our island most certainly is not their intended destination, but many end up here and they cannot go further. Those whose identity and country of domicile can be established are duly sent back but great number of them somehow manage to hide their true identity. Some of them are genuine refugeees fleeing from the war torn countries and some of them are just economic migrants.
It's a sort of a stall mate. Island cannot afford to have such a great number of immigrants and also there is fear that this would be a welcoming signal for the others.
Therefore someone has found Solomonic solution and they are being immediatly confined within the detention center, until their applications for refugee status are resolved. At first this sounds like a good solution and its already streching the limits of the 2nd most densly populated area in the world . But in reality this is a lengthy process and some of them have been there for years, forgotten, slowly losing their mind in the shadows of our society.
The other aspect of this story is the fact that according to some statistics more than 500 people per year perish in the seas around the island. That's a lot , and on average it translates to 1 person a day.
I immediately think of all those careless days splashing in the sea or sipping cocktails on the shore completely oblivious to the fact that somewhere near, under that same beautiful sea fish might be feasting on remains of some human being.
And then there is this little story:
Elaine is a socialite who celebrates her birthday at the and of the summer. This is the barbeque of all barbeques, usually taking place on the remote sandy beach. Firstly it is the end of the summer and this is the last barbeque of the season. Secondly, these barbeques are events not to be missed by any serious socialite.And thirdly, last but not the least, Elaine knows the good food. Therefore everyone is looking forward to this event for weeks in advance.
Last time the celebration was in the full swing, everyone was tipsy, stretching around the bonfire, giggling. The moon was high and almost full, mirrored in the slightly agitated sea. All of the sudden, out of a tin air, a boat berths on the beach with a thud.
Boat filled to the brink with people. Men, women, children, dark as the night. Both parties are shocked. They are looking at each other with eyes wide open, frozen.
Clash of two worlds.
In no time there are helicopters with spotlights above the beach followed by police vehicles swarming downhill towards the beach.
In the matter of seconds the immigrants are rounded like sheep and they disappear from the beach. In lesss than half an hour it appears that no such drama has ever taken place on the beach. Needles to say, Elaine's birthday is ruined there and then, once and for all.
Yesterday the immigrants staged a protest. They broke out and sat in the field, holding banners. They ignored armed forces repeated warnings to go back into the detention area. One thing led to another and as usually happens in the events like this, amongst us humans from earth, the military applied force.
So what, you would think, what is a little force in this world where people arebeing killed like flies either by their own brethren or by tsunami.
Nevertheless when I opened the newspaper yesterday and saw pictures of soldiers kicking the heads of helpless people like footballs I felt a pang of pain in my stomach and something got stuck in my throat. I quickly swallowed it, grabbed my jacket and went out in the sun.
These images soon disappeared while I was admiring strange cloud shapes in the sky.
But last night I had a wierdest dream, I was a prisoner in Aushwitz and there was prince Harry in Nazi uniform, paying us a visit accompanied by his big eared father.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005 - ONE WINTER DAY ON A FORBIDDEN ISLAND
I gave myself a nice present today- one whole day. I don’t want to see clients or telephone, not even her...no one!
My only desire is to see myself, deep within.
Maybe some special friends I haven't seen for a long time, but I will think about that later. Right now I am perfectly content being on my own.
Just finished running. Finally an honest burst of energy after a lengthy break, its good to know I haven't lost my stamina. If I ever feel I can touch the sky then that must be while running. As I move with speed, all of my body becomes alive and I feels like some demiurge storming through the earths sticky atmosphere.
Even now as I am writing, my body still vibrates with sweet remnants of the ecstasy that sprint never fails to bring.
This morning, on a spur of a moment I decided to change direction and run with the ancient city across the bay. I went down, under the promenade, on the docks, so close to the sea and its heavy scent. This is why this island never ceases to amaze me, so small and yet you just need to take one sudden turn for an entire new world to open in front of you.
After the jog I did a bit of tai chi and meditation at abandoned Surfside platform and the horizon with pinkish clouds over grey sea expanded, encircling me like the 360 degrees photo. I merged with the universe for a short while.
There is something about bright winter days.
Sunny winter day and I am always slightly euphoric. The air is crisp and the sky radiant with the brightest shade of blue while sharply defined huge clouds slowly but visibly roll across the horizon. Faintly, and only from time to time I can feel rudimentary scent of the spring still to come.
Tuesday, December 7, 2004 - A TRIBUTE TO THE KINDRED SOUL: ALEXANDRA
Today my world was invaded with cold tea
and boring small talks
The battle was lost before I could ask:
"What have you put in my tea?!"
And yet again, life has repeated her poem, and she emerged from the drawer where I carefully store old acquaintances, those that seem to be gone from your life.
But they aren't, cos they pounce at you when you least expect it,
attached to a scent, a sound or a sequence of words.
I've been wandering for days, months, years....
Today I stopped for a while, her poetry resounding in my head:
My way of loving,
Unspeakable sadness, like these shoes worn on a long journey
In these shoes I have walked so long that I became
A silent One
Or something like that....
Happy Birthday Dada, in two or three days, you know I always get confused
The Knight of the Storms journey from the Forbidden Island and back...
This is a dialog between me and my soul. It is a dialog for the people. All people, all Men race, colour or creed.
In my dreams I build bridges that span the seas, a routes upon which my brothers and I can cross, free of charge, from a desire to learn each other's ins and outs, ups and downs, ways and means...
Most of the times I am just the android dreaming of the electric sheep, but there are times when I am not, then I write here.
Cant help but quote exceptional Kia:
"Feel free to ask me anything. I cant quarantee however, that I will listen or care. As the matter of fact, dont ask me anything, just sit down and shut up."
Most of the times I am just the android dreaming of the electric sheep, but there are times when I am not, then I write here.
Cant help but quote exceptional Kia:
O rapture o joy!
The newspaper reported this morning:
