Time compass

Lost in time ... Have I ever stopped feeling hunted by elephants? I don't think so...

"Productivity", "effectiveness", "time management"... Some of the elephants in this huge, wild jungle I am growing into... Tic toc, tic toc... The sound of failure...I was always very bad at scheduling and programming my life; however these years of experience seem to not add up to knowledge but to repetition. Meaning that not for a single day in my life have I managed to stay within a schedule.

This anarchy of mind results in me occupied with so many things at the same time, complaining about lack of time and finally giving up quite easily sometimes.

Am I condemned to spin around lost time? Are we what we make of our time? Has productivity always visible results? What about all these hours that only end up to thinking? Could it be that we are led to believe and understand only certain aspects of creativity?Whenever I feel "time-disoriented" where should I look for help?

Maybe time is never lost, because no one owns it. We own our memories and what we make of our time, but never time itself.

Culture Phonebook

(Alpha, TV-Tiglon, 12:54 a.m, 03/15/2007)

Fotis to Bilio: Why did you invite Elli Kokkinou (female troubadour of modern Greek psalm) at your show? I mean, from Giannis Kotsiras [male troubadour wandering around "caltsoure" (sic) (sorry, such a "greek" comment) Greek tv shows] there's a great distance.

(Messing sneakily with the signal)
Industrial Daisies to Fotis: It's the previous name on my phone book. What great distance? Kourkoulis is next and Kimoulis the last (he switched sides and preferred Lampiri, that is not to be forgotten easily!)

Worst case scenario: The distinctive signs of cultural decay: Difference in "quality" is to be traced through phonebooks. (Spooky!)

Best case scenario: Lampiri under cover, replacing Bilio's phonebook with a copy of hers.

Gree-babwe

Gree

babwe

My greetings to every "Gree-babwan" in Greece!!

Attention: Smoking can cause serious damage to reality.

Inhale. Don't look down, you' ll step on someone... Walk faster, ask for directions, you are lost... Traffic jam... People walking as fast as they can to make it on time... Where am I walking to so slowly? Inhale. Fag put out.

Inhale. I feel dizzy. Tobacco rings wreathing the square. O mind, where art thou? Left alone and sad, like the first day at school. Inhale. Look down, you look like a suspect. Don't cross sight, you have nothing to say. Get out of this mess. Inhale. My throat is on fire. Fag put out.

Inhale. Divine music spread in my head. "Audio reality" is much better than plain reality. Inhale. I am not walking. I want to escape all this. You can do it. Follow the music into the nearest state of mind. Inhale. I am here. Escape some other time, now you are busy, loser. Inhale. Fag put out.

Inhale. I am here. How long am I standing in front of this screen? Has it been forever? Can you reach immortality only when bored? Inhale. Basic action. Proceed with the ordinary. Inhale.

Freeze! Every chemical reaction that leads to thinking is from now on strictly forbidden. Despair is not appropriate for offices. Inhale. Fag put out.

3_00

300: Forget everything you knew about fighting. Every single thing you were taught about survival. Every minor strategy you used until now to gain something. Actually, you have to go way back, perhaps at the very moment your ethical or whatever kind of education began.

"Spartaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaans!!! Attack!". The voice of the mighty leader tears mountains to two pieces. Audience thrilled, ecstatic; proud descendants of ancient fearless shapely warriors. Pop corn and Coke sips, greedy eyes staring at the giant screen waiting for moments of national pride and massacre. The important thing is to keep consuming. Stay focused.

I liked it. Not because of the artistic view (that was pretty good but actually I prefer pure, genuine Frank Miller) or because of the exciting effects. By now I believe that movie industry has already burned its card of special effects; yes gentlemen, you trained us so well that now you cannot impress us as easily as you could.

But I liked it! I, the "alternative/underground/miserably- looking-for-higher-aesthetic-or art- quality" type left my sit filled with a sense of being untouchable.I felt strong, concentrated, mighty warrior (not princess Xena though). So pondering upon this matter, unable to psychoanalyze myself and why (oh why?) I liked it, I ended up to a basic -but of great importance- conclusion.

Unlike most of the Greeks, the source of my excitement did not lie on feeling a proud offspring of Leonidas or Hercules nor on the fact that for the first time during the last decade an ancient Greek hero was not presented as a gay spoiled ancestor of a nation now proudly and consistently following that tradition. It lies upon the very essence of one of the aspects of good (or at least sincere) film-making: inspire the masses, entertain, be special BUT keep it pop. Make them identify with a hero just for a weak tiny little moment and then show what acts of grandiose one (with tons of millions and special effects) could do if only he had lived through a different period in history.
Seriously, it is quite important nowadays to have moments when you feel important (as an offspring of great men) or untouchable (even though your belly may be sweeping the floor). In that point of view "300" succeeded at what previous movies didn't even conceive.

Also, one should acknowledge the fact that it was a good effort in showing some of the essence of why ancient Greeks fought, besides the fact that it is in human nature. Glory through vanity; freedom through death. ... ? But, really, does movie industry truly expect masses of consumers, drown into pop corns, nachos and liters of Coke, hidden behind trademarks to understand that? No, but there's always gonna be a bunch of 300, somewhere, to defy trademark and challenge it holding a medal shield.

3:00 a.m.: Lying at the sofa, smoking a fag, my pride and sense of untouchable totally collapsed (like that wall of corpses), zapping... A kid, obviously a runaway from his skateboard, is so glad in his kitchen demonstrating fine art recipes. Zap. A fat lady surrounded by casseroles, holding a knife threatening to teach us how to cook salmon saute in a dip of caviar and... Zap. Off. Enough grandiose and pride for one day.

Really, in a country of eleven million habitants how many cook shows are considered enough? At 3:00 a.m. However, in a funny/mysterious/naive way, we feel, we ARE (?), the fallen offspring of great men who nowadays are making profit for Hollywood's sake. In a way we do that too. "Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeks! Consume!" Oh, how untouchable and proud I feel!

Traditional ancient spartan dinner