Went to a lecture on the future of museums by a guy who used to be the director of Tate Modern.
Between the various buzzwords and abstract noun throwing I found little else of substance – arguments to support his various assertions were either completely absent or half-baked replaced instead with jokes and name dropping of varying quality.
But the guy was an errudite speaker and a quite suave man which might explain why most of the audience seemed to enjoy the lecture if not its content.
At the drinks reception I found myself unwillingly discussing the future national archaeological musuem with a number of people in a conversation which has already disintegrated in my memory.
Another night, Another disappointment
Μπορει να ακούεται υπερβολικα τρυφερο – εννα μου πεις πιον εν το μετρο – αλλα εν που τζεινα τα λλια ελληνικα τραουθκια που οταν τα πρωτακουσεις εκπλησσεσαι τοσο πολλα που το ποσο γλυτζιά τζιαι απαλη εν η μελωδια τους που ωσπου να απορροφησεις το συναισθημα τελειωνουν τζιαι αφηννουν σε χασκωντας.
Περιπου οπως το κεραυνοβόλο ερωτα δηλαδη μονο που τουτα τουλαχιστον μπορεις να τα ξαναπαιξεις
There’s an alternate universe.
And in that universe they don’t use fingerprints for identification.
They use laughter instead.
While moving on the rails
Of my daily commute,
The world revealed itself to me
In a plume of diesel fumes.
Far from any magnificance,
It seemed quite a funny creature
Jumping like a maniac
Stamping on all the little creases
As if perspective was anathema
And flatness ideal.
I came to the place that had the gig straight from a wedding reception, wearing a shirt and long trousers which over the years have become my official wedding receptions clothes.
The cocktail party was a pretty dire affair although in the process I did learn that an attractive female colleague is deeply religious, that out of every hundred local women there is at least one who will wear a breathtaking dress and that crab sticks are definitely out of current cocktail party food trends
The place had a handful of people which on a Saturday night was a bit jarring. It did mean however that the bar was vacant and that noise was almost absent – a rare thing in public spaces here.
I had no idea who the artist was nor had I looked her up; from the half-read text that accompanied the announcement I had somehow managed to imagine their music as a rather stark blend of minimalist electronica interspersed with simple string sounds.
I guess my life does seep through my imagination
But I was completely wrong. So wrong in fact that when they started playing I was taken aback by the realisation of my misjudgement. Instead of desolation I had found beauty, a feeling of enveloping serenity that dissolved all my demons as if they were made from morning dew. In the gentleness of their songs, in that single hour that it lasted, I was free.
“I don’t care if it’s a douchebag place. It has chairs with proper arm and back rests. You know how fucking tired I am with all those straw chairs in “alternative” places?
Yeah, the music is obnoxious. BUT I DON’T CARE. PROPER. CHAIRS”
Met attractive coworker at a wedding reception
Got talking with her.
Learnt that tonight is her hen night.
But there’s always an epilogue isn’t it
Even if it’s in a car, at night, with the radio on.
Maybe light skinned Cypriots should start a club.
This way we’ll be able to collectively reach the best answer to the usual question posed by people who are too dumb to comprehend the way skin works
“Μα ενι φκαινεις στον ηλιο καθολου;”
The entire day was a blur.
I recall going to some place in the early evening.
Then again I recall a dream I had the day before with more clarity than this
So in the end it’s all a matter of decision
Whether it really happened or not.