there's nowt as queer as folk

I have been fairly blessed in life.

This is not an attempt to solicit for charity, nor am I embracing my solitude. Its a fact. I was given a free upgrade to first class once - I was travelling to London and fate smiled her Colgate smile at me. Furthermore, I have travelled to cities beyond imagination and have led a full life. A life of excitement, joy, surprises and endless opportunities for which I cannot accept credit. In my student years, there have been people around me, good people, who in their own way have sculpted my personality and have moulded me into the person I am today. Once, when in NYC, i sat fairly close to Heidi Klum in a restaurant and saw Jackson Pollock's art at the Guggenheim. Sometimes I would take long walks in the park and suffer the consequences of endless love and divine glory. In extreme moments of desire I would devour a sticky toffee pudding with some double cream perpetuating the glorious sensation of happy times. "summertime" is still scratching away clumsily on my cd. The breeze is eternally my friend and some other times - at night, when the solitude settles in, the moon envelopes me warmly. Nothing better than a bright full moon. There's nowt as folk to me as the moon.

The salted water on the skin of my toes. some salt from the fish at a forgotten tavern on a small deserted island while i lick my mouth with a thirsty tongue. Should I have a beer with that? Getting salt on my hands was always a treat - it produced childhood memories starring me and my mother. the way i dreamt of having all the fried chicken in the world. How i smiled at the police office every time i crossed the street to my school. Momentarily, I think of the soundtrack of my life: a requiem, perhaps a dollop of patricia kass, jingles of the moon river and sounds of the heart.

there's nowt as queer as folk.

does seeking more entitle you to a better chance in Life? Is every attempt justified and gratified or should one just ask for less so as to be grateful for the outcome, which ever that may be? I feel insane for exhibiting such rude lack of gratitude but I once read that he who dares achieves. people are strange though - unsatisfied creatures, vultures almost of the flesh. I long for more. "I need more sir..."

arms around my chest. there's a bus thats dropping people off on the main road. The number 30. A pair of wet eyes, staring deep into mine when I say "I love you". some flowers and cake on my birthday, perhaps a walk to the near by ice cream shop for some flavoured whipped air when I am low on sugar. a pillow of arms and a heart for a soundtrack. the scent of a man in the bathroom and the crease on his pillow in the morning. Thinking out loud and calling everybody by his name. You! Some aftershave is still lingering in my bathroom cabinet. there's photos of an island from the summer on my shelves. some friends' faces. I want you. I want to be there forever.

can i watch you sleep?

αρχιζω να σε βλεπω αλλιως

ο καφες μου πικρος. εχω κοψει τη ζαχαρη - θελω να χασω κανα κιλο. το αφρογαλα ανασαινει στη γλωσσα μου και απαλυνει τη διψα. το πρωι εφαγα ενα κομματι ψωμι με μπολικο βουτυρο και μαρμελαδα. το σουσαμι ειναι ακομα στο πιατο και λαμπυριζει στον ηλιο. τα παιδια γυρω μου γελανε, με πειραζουν. κο κο κο.... εχουν ολοι απο κατι να πουν αλλα δεν το λενε. σκεφτομαι μηπως ειναι φοβος? ο ανεμος παιρνει καθε μου σκεψη και την σκορπιζει στο απειρο. αναμεικτα το σουσαμι με τις σκεψεις μου. Η κρεμ μπρουλε του Ν και το φραπε του Δ. ενα συνοθυλευμα ανησυχιας και εμπειριας - βλεπω στην πλατεια τα περιστερια που ξεπουπουλιαζονται με μανια. ειμαι ενας συλλεκτης αναμνησεων. μα μονο αυτο μου αξιζει? ειναι λιγο? βαλε μουσικη, χορευοντας να φυγω.

Η Σ με κοιταει και μου ραγιζει την καρδια. Μονο η ματια της ειναι αρκετη για να με καταλαβει και να την καταλαβω. με ξερει? Η φιγουρα της μου ειναι σχεδον μητρικη. ο τροπος που κραταει το πηρουνι. πως μου χαμογελαει.... με κρατουσε αγκαλια της προαλλες και ενιωσα ομρφα. παλι θελω αγκαλια. θελω να νιωσω ομορφα - απο εκεινον. θελω να του μιλησω, να αγγιξω το χερι του και να περιεργαστω τις φλεβες του χεριου του μαζι με καθε κυτταρο που εγκυμονει ποθο και παθος. το δειλινο μας βρηκε και ειναι υπεροχο. το γκαρσονι φερνει γλυκο. θελω να δοκιμασω αλλα εχω σταματησει τη ζαχαρη. το ακριβο μεταξωτο μου προσωπειο βγαινει on stage.

αλλος ενας καφες. με περιμενει δυσκολο βραδυ. μοναχικο. αν με ηξερες λιγο. δεν θα ρωτουσες ποτε το γιατι. δεν θα χανοσουν. καθομαστε διπλα διπλα. θελω να αγγιξουν τα ποδια μας σε μια απεγνωσμενη προσπαθεια να ερθουμε πιο κοντα. ποσο πιο κοντα? ειμαστε διπλα διπλα σαν βιβλια σε ξυλινο ραφακι αλλωστε. υπαρχει χημεια και επικοινωνια αλλα δεν μιλαμε. ισως να ειναι ενταξει ετσι. αυτη η σιωπη ειναι ενταξει γιατι ολα οσα εχω πει ειναι αρκετα. γιατι δεν μπορουν δυο καρδιες να ερθουν πιο κοντα. το παγακι στον καφε γλυστραει. πεφτει στον πατο και σιγοφλερταρει με τους μικρους κοκκους καφε που εχουν εναποθεσει το κορμακι τους για ησυχια στον πατο. το παγακι πλακωνει. η επιθεση του παγου.

κοιταω βαθια μεσα στα ματια του και αναρωτιεμαι πως μυριζουν τα μαλλια του. μου λεει να με παει σπιτι. κανει κρυο και δεν κανει να περπατησω λεει. με προσεχει? θα ηθελα μια αγκαλια. να με κρατησεις λιγο μονο να νιωσω την καρδια σου. στο αυτοκινητο θελω να σου μιλησω αλλα ενας κομπος με σκοτωνει. μονο η μουσικη μου κανει αληθεια. θελω να σου πιασω το χερι και να σου ζητησω να παμε μια βολτα. μονοι. οι δυο μας. θελω να σου σφιξω το χερι. τι με εχει πιασει? ειναι αμηχανια. εδω το'χω να μιλησω. τι ειναι αυτος ο ηχος απο βιολια? θορυβος απο σκουπιδιαρικο - πιθανοτατα η μονη πολη στην ευρωπη με σκουπιδιαρικα στους δρομους το απογευμα. με συνεφερνει λιγο. δεν θελω τωρα πια. φοβος? ή αληθεια? λεω να ανεβεις αλλα θα πας σε μια φιλη. ισως μετα λες και μ'αφηνεις να σε κοιταζω. δεν ξερεις και αυτο που δεν ξερεις δεν μπορει να σε βλαψει. παρε με μαζι σου. σε φιλω.

περασα ενα ομορφο σαββατοκυριακο. αλλη μια κυριακη επεστρεψα στο σπιτι μονος με εφημεριδες. ειχαν τα νεα της ημερας. τα ναυαγια, τις καιρικες αλλαγες, τα νεα του χρηματιστηριου. χλωμο το μελλον. διαδικαστικα και παραμελημενα. οι λεξεις μικρα σουσαμια, σκορπισμενα.

perfect strangers

the weekend was to be spent with 6 other people. a variety, a multi layered group of unconventional 30-somethings. the house was by the beach, yawning lazily under the sun. the garden was beautiful in its colourful splendour and i touched the petunias thankfully. the touch yearning for more than flowers. the porch big, almost spreading into the seafront, welcoming the hungry souls. more butter pecan cookies, some lamb, shavings of parmesan and connaiseurs of trouble. the rites of passage. the inconvinient growing up to be different. coffee was to be taken outdoors. the sun, still blazing even higher, some scents unfamiliar and extreme eagerness to change out of these clothes. A was toying with N. G was mindful of the house chores and S along with M were taking a walk.

the sounds of summer were already touching base with us.

later on that night the unveiling began. having fun with people is excellent. having fun with people who are so different yet so similar is an exciting prosect. there was teasing. some moments of awkwardness and stiffness. we were just beginning to familiarise ourselves with each other. how does M take her coffee? how does G sleep at night and does D snore? the answer is yes by the way.... the windows were thrown open. the coffee was resting in our mugs and some delicious fruit surfaced. ice tea would be a treat right now. i thought of those afternoons in new york. it was never the same, it didnt quite taste the same since. basil with lemon. vanilla and trimmings of jasmin. the night was to be glorious. stars and stars aligned themselves with my hope for a resurrection. the brighter ones overshadowing the little ones. some were fooling around and fell off the sky. i made a wish.

the church was lit up like a birthday cake candle. some were chatting, others were listening to the priest's desperate endeavour with the holy. the old woman in the corner is praying and as i look up at the bells my neck cracks. some unexpected sounds from the altar. a fire starts next to us, judas is to be burnt. scapegoats were always in fashion. these days especially since the mighty blame the poor and vice versa. kids are buzzing around the fire, the priest is furthering his anxiety and some youngsters are flirting. kids today. i sigh.

later on that night dinner was delicious. lamb was served in extreme portions, the red painted eggs were rolling around in the baskets and the wine tickled our tongues. i am sitting across from D. i tell them about my egg. it was in second grade and i bet they wont forget it. when little, you seek for friendship. when older you seek and hope to find companionship. when does one know? when does one stop to pursue this? does it ever come to an end or is this danielle steel novel without an ending? i smoke too much. its not good - i'm nervous. why?

later on that evening we decide to play. play with words. with each other. i learn from this and i enjoy learning. some therapy sessions later and having S conduct and mildly orchestrate the conversation i hit my head on a wall. its like the chinese wall. long and restrictive. there's an attarction. he might not even know. then there's acknowledgement.

"you are creating some memories this weekend...."

what is it about perfect strangers? is anonymity sacred and should therefore be the basis of a common understanding between two souls seeking companionship? I admire his aura, his hands as they wave about. he speaks mildly and gently and then rises to a crescendo like a flower looking towards the sun. he can be loud too. whats loud though is his voice in my head. the sound of his laughter. he teases me and i enjoy that. i smoke too much. i have a sip of my drink. i really shouldnt have had that extra serving of champignons. butterflies or champignons? questions and answers. we play truth or dare. the sound of a chair awakens me. G gets up to go to the toilet. he really has worked hard today. preparing a meal and everything.

all these memories. i feel like a jar of honey. there's a sweet sensation inside. i think it might be showing on the outside. is this me? or is it him? hoping it could be us.

here's to hope
here's to the unexpected