Of Christmas, Lucky Luke And Birds With Turpentine Up Their A-holes

Watching tv, drinking whiskey, smoking and listening to my friends playing cards in the next room was, oddly enough, the best night I’ve had in a long time. When the movies became unbearably stupid, I went over to the table they were playing and I joined them. We broke it off at around 6 am on Christmas day. Happy Birthday baby Jesus.

It’s Christmas day, 7 am and three dogs, Fletcher, Joe and Larry followed me home from the bus stop. They could be my reindeers only if I was fatter and my beard and hair was white. Only if I was wiser and knew how to spread cheer.

So I fed the strays a couple of slices of ham and one of cheese and came back in. The light brown one, Fletcher, seemed to be the sociable one. The black one Larry, was the leader from what it seemed and the brown-white one, Joe, was part of the group.

I had a cup of coffee and smoked a couple of cigarettes. The festive table is now over. Plates are empty, my stomach’s full from all the food, wine and chocolate cake. You have to taste my uncle’s wine. It’s sweeter than Holy Communion and stronger than Hulk. Jesus’ wine doesn’t stand a chance. Chester had some pork from my plate and he loved it.

The song coming from my speakers sings “we used to get high together instead of getting high alone” and I just finished talking with a good friend of mine whom I haven’t seen for six months or so. We talked about the days we used to go for coffee, get our cups to go, get in the car drive up to a hill where he smoked pot, I drank coffee and chain smoked and talked nonsense for an hour or two. He’s going to be titled Dr. in a couple of years from now. Maybe less.

It’s 4 days after Christmas day now and I still haven’t finished this entry. I was caught up with being lazy, ill and practicing trying to make a musician out of myself. Last gig we had was on the 27th and it went surprisingly well. I got so excited that I abused my free drinks that I had at the bar and spent 40 more euros. Again I got back home at 7 am.

I used to tell my best friend that playing “Jingle Bells Rock” make me feel miserable for some reason but this time the song spread its Christmas cheer all over inside me. Re-reading this last line I want to slap me real hard for being that cheesy but I won’t. Anything goes because it’s Christmas.

That night was amazing. Not many people that we knew showed up but those important few were there. The bar was packed and we had an amazing night. At least I did.

Now the new year is only a couple of days away and once I had forgotten I’m growing older the signs of the time flying faster than a bird with turpentine up its ass swung at me and knocked me down. The video store where a friend of mine and I used to get movies from every now and again for more than 5 years is closing down. I asked the owner and she said recession has nothing to do with it. She’s just retiring.

From that same video store my mother used to get me Lucky Luke video-tapes to watch when I was younger. At that same video store I burst out laughing when I saw a guy handing over 2 action movies, 1 comedy, 1 cartoon and a porn movie stuck in between to rent.

Well time flies dats fer shure and soon 2012 will be smooching my stubbly face every day for 12 months. Just like 2010 did and 2011 after that. My favorite video store will be closed down and I’ll have no grandchildren to say “when I was your age that’s where I used to get movies from.” Who's going to dare and say happy New Year this time? We said it last year and look what happened. Disasters and calamities all over the place. We jinxed it big time. But anyway, even early MAY YOU ALL HAVE A HAPPY AND GOOFY NEW YEAR.

Searching Other Guys' Luggages At The Airport

Hello and hi to whoever reads this. Today I started searching a stranger's bag at the airport by mistake and he...but wait let's take things from the scratch.

No matter how stupid this may sound sometimes I feel like I’ll run out of things to say. Like I won’t be able to write down a simple even honest sentence ever again and I’ll start sucking at what I think I suck less. A knight will come while I’m asleep tie me up and wake me up just to make me watch him having sex with an ugly witch on the next bed. Then chop my head off, take it home and use it as a cocktail pitcher.

Well, when in a situation like this I’m often in the dilemma of either writing down the last thing I have in mind with the hope that this move will trigger more and more thought, or save it cause that’s the last crappy thing I have and will ever think that will be worth of mentioning.

Anyway, a flight for me usually gets weird, awkward and goofy. Either there’s a kid crying or screaming right behind me, or I’m getting to sit on the aisle seat and every time the flight attendants pass me by with their cart, they hit my knee and wake me up like they do it on purpose. OR I fall asleep and wake up every two minutes checking if I drooled and made a fool of myself. BUT not this time.

This time the less predictable happened. No, I didn’t get blown in the toilettes or asked to fly the airplane after it was high-jacked by terrorists and John McClane called me on the radio to land it safely as his wife was in there.

I met a guy who I’d met before during a tram ride in Manchester 7 or 8 months ago. Now, it’s alright for you to think “why the hell you’d strike up conversations on the tram with strangers you weirdo?” and it’s alright for me to answer of course “because that’s what people do.”

I can’t spell the guy's name but he’s Finish. I get to sit next to him as there’s nowhere else for me to sit. I look at him and say “I think we’ve met before”. Hell I was on the aisle seat again, so I thought if I could get to talk with the guy I wouldn’t have a problem waking up every 10 minutes by flight attendants hitting me with their stupid carts.

He used to be in a “fast intelligent rock and roll slash punk band”. He tells me how he formed his first band when he was 12 and then got a record deal when he was 15 playing hardcore punk. He claims it was not that hard to get signed, as hard core punk was on the up back then and there weren’t many hardcore/ punk bands in Finland. “You haven’t listened to faster band than us” that’s what he claims him and his friends used to say. He also says that they managed to get a record deal cause they played like many California hardcore bands. “Like circle-jerks, black flag, you know that kind of stuff.”

The flight attendant interrupts our conversation asking if we’d like anything to drink or eat. I get a blueberry muffin and pretzels. He gets milk and tea and then he continues with his story.

Apparently he got big headed by signing at a young age and it didn’t work out. He keeps telling me stories about touring and sleeping on friends’ floors. Friends and bandmates of his not taking things seriously and just drinking all the time to the extent they weren’t “awake if they didn’t have a drink”. All that by scratching his goatee- which was long- and while I had finished my pretzels.

I didn’t have to talk. The more silent I was the more I think he felt obliged to fill that silence and he kept on talking. He’s a fast talker. With a bit of a stammer.And a weird laugh- he laughs in a high pitched voice while looking at you and then gets completely serious and stares blankly in front of him- But all in all, he’s a nice guy.

At one point I run out of questions and the conversation starts getting boring. I take out one of the magazines I’d bought – in which I read an article about sex addiction and a woman who ruined 2 marriages, cheated on both her ex-husbands repeatedly with her coworkers and had more one night stands that she can remember- and I offer him a magazine from my bag. He says he’s alright and that he has this ability to switch off his mind when he’s bored. 5 minutes later I see him picking up a crappy airline magazine. 2 minutes after that I can see his hand falling slowly. I look at him and he’s falling asleep. He struggles to stay awake. But he gives in and starts snoring.

We arrive in Manchester and I’m waiting for my suitcase when I see one which looked JUST like mine. It’s all wet like all the others but something doesn’t seem right. So, I kneel down and open it. In the top I find two shirts. I hadn’t packed any shirts. I try to find a way to open the main part of the suitcase when a guy probably 19 years old walks over and says “excuse me sir…I think that’s my bag” while my head was stuck in the main space of his bag.

I look up and then at the belt and see my bag. I stand up and say “yeap you’re right” and run and grab my bag. I bet he thought I was just waiting there to pick any bag I found unattended cause I open mine too to make sure that it’s mine.

Well I lied back up when I said nothing awkward or weird happened this time. But it wasn’t that bad.

As you can see, I picked the first option. I just arrived in Preston and settled in in my hotel room. They’re happy that Christmas is around the corner and they show it by playing “Jingle Bells” and other Christmas songs through the halls’ speakers. They even have Christmassy music in the elevator. But, despite the great Christmas spirit they have no wifi. “It’s down since yesterday. We were expecting the technician to come fix it today but he didn’t show up” said the semi-fat receptionist. But turned out she had absolutely no idea what she was talking about because the internet’s working just fine. My phone’s dead. My room’s phone isn’t working as well and they didn’t give me my gravy at KFC. Kernel I've been loyal but your troops betrayed me.

To top that there’s nothing worth watching on the 100+ something channels on the T.V here.

But I have my Christmassy tunes from down the hall, my cigarettes and my laptop. Oh wait no I don’t have my laptop cause I gave it for repair and the guy fucked it up even more so now I have my brother’s laptop. So I have my Christmassy tunes spreading the joy from down the hall and my cigarettes.

Till the next time keep goofing it up and bababooee

Bi Polar Bears And An Old Time Hippy

I’ve increased the number of cigarettes I smoke a day since I came back from the U.K. Could be the lower price. I’ve also gained weight. It could be the easy access to food anytime I open the fridge. I could now be easily called slightly obese but I like the way my face looks chubby and hairy. Boarder line healthy. One more cheeseburger and I step in the obese territory.

I quit an internship not because the people there were not nice. It wasn’t because I wasn’t enjoying what I was doing. I was just looking for something different and they were looking for someone with drive and motivation. So motivated and with that extra drive that only pisses pure Gatorade or Redbull.

Now the editor/ owner is a real something. She’s pretty for her age but she lacks the seriousness. She has that iced look in her eyes but she flinches too much. If she was playing the “two for flinching” game, her arms would be dead for all her life. She wants to seem friendly but at the same time she has that awkward semi-angry semi-satisfied look on her face, like her father barged in her room interrupting her first fuck just to tell her he wishes she could be more like her best-friend.

I don’t feel pity for her but I bet she feels betrayed for me not sticking around. Maybe just bummed out. Maybe she just kept her positivity and found another sucker. I bet she was a hippy when she was in her twenties.

P.S: Have you ever met a bi polar-bear?

Of Fractured Bones And H1N1

It's been 23 years since the first time. But as much romantic as it sounds or it might be me remembering, it's just as bad, as I still haven't figured out how to make more than 3 steps without falling on my face and landing in the most awkward of ways.

This, a week ago, resulted to a minor fracture just beneath my elbow, but being the baby I am when it comes to pain, I made my friends drive me to the hospital for x-rays and now I have it hang for almost a week now. It doesn't hurt that much anymore, but that little bit of pain and the fear of hurting it more makes me keeping it hang around my neck. One day, I swear I'll perfect the art of walking one day. Swear down.

But the cool thing is- and this one goes out to all the ladies- that I didn't get that from just walking. I'm a cool dude and I don't walk. I skate. I don't eat. I skate. I don't get laid. I skate. I don't like girls. I skate. I don't like boys. I skate. Anyway, I tried to do an ollie -skate still- and I didn't make it at first and I gave it another try - “cause I'm a sk8er guy”-. I landed on my ass, palms and elbow. So there you go.

Anyway I got an internship at a magazine and I'm waiting for a reply from another magazine. Hip hip hooray for doing work and not getting paid. But who am I kidding? I barely do any work. I write 2 or 3 articles a day and then I have all the time to clown around. But this has become less fun now days as my cat has grown older and is too bored of my games. Or so it seems. Sometimes he responds some others he just yawns.

Athens is fun minus the money problems. We found this bar the other day where whiskey costs 3.20 euros. Yup 3.20 and it's the worst watered kind of whiskey you'll ever find. First I thought it was just because the bartender had put too much ice in my glass and I asked him for straight the second time. Still, it was watered and tasteless. Kind of like that T.V show, Big Bang Theory. But can't really tell which is worse.

Talking of slightly fractured elbow bones, being bored and having nothing better to do, have I ever told you about that time I had H1N1? Well, it was Christmas 2009 when I got it. Right after seeing a band called Bellvue Cadillac. Seems like smoking at a small smoking area with everyone smoking around you it's not the healthiest thing one could do.

Anyway, it started with head aches and sore throat. Then chills down my spine and then dizziness and then slightly high fever. It was the season to be jolly that for sure. The fun thing is that I had to return to the U.K to hand in my last assignment, get my grade, pack my stuff and leave. So I was pretty nervous that I wouldn't make it, miss my hand in date for the assignment, miss my grade, leave all my stuff and get charged extra for the room I was staying in. Plus, I'd have to do the same class ALL over again. That I couldn't stand.

So, thank god the doctor said I could travel if I was feeling any better and the fever had dropped. And so it happened. I went back handed in my assignment and waited for my grades. I had two weeks to kill till my grades were out so that meant me staying there and wait.

So in January of 2010, I started going out with a friend of mine almost every Thursday night, blog more regularly, watch a lot of movies, read more books, drink more coffee than Brazil produces in a year and smoke more cigarettes than your grandpa has/had smoked in all his life.

One night as I was out at that club/bar I used to go, I met up with another friend of mine that we used to hang occasionally every Thursday night. She was cool and I liked her. Guess she liked me too, BUT she didn't know I spent my Christmas having the H1N1 disease. Which was a big deal back in the days.

So as we were hanging outside at the smoking area, talking about what we did during Christmas, and how we spent these holy days, at one point we kissed. Now I have no idea, why or how it stroke me but right after that I said with a big grin “you know I had H1N1 during Christmas...” took a drag from my cigarette and kept on smiling.

Then she pushed me slightly moved back a little and said “what's that? Is that that swine flu they've been talking on the news?” I casually said “yeah” and went on explaining how I had to wear a mask on the airplane etc etc but you should have seen her face.

I meant no harm, I didn't do it to upset her or anything and definitely I wouldn't do it to pass that on to her. But her face was more like “eww...and I just took a drag from your cigarette, let alone kissed you...you pig infected bearded unmasked weirdo.” At least that's what I read on her face. Then she said “if I have any symptoms in the recent future I'll know who to blame!” or something like that. As far as my face is concerned I bet it read, in a tipsy way, “yup I got to wear a mask on an airplane and the guy who was sitting next to me when the plane took off left and went to sit elsewhere and I got to have a full 6 hours sleep. How cool is that?”

We stopped talking a couple of months after that, guess we had nothing really in common apart from drinking, music and boredom.

On the bright side of things, as I said before, I got an internship of some sort and I'm waiting for a reply from another magazine. We have a gig on the 11th of November which by the looks of it, it does seem promising and on the 6th of December or something like that it's the graduation for my M.A degree. Now I'm off to bed and remember: learn to walk then run, don't tell a girl you just kissed you had H1N1 and Jesus Christ is waiting to high-five you at your local church so don't leave him hanging. Till the next time, bababooee and keep goofing it up.

FLIPPIN IN PHILIPPINES WITH A GUY NAMED PHILIP

Bad guys don't listen to real bad ass songs and ugly girls with hot friends won't introduce them to you because they think that they'll get prettier if they don't. Oh and before I begin, it's true that the grass can always be greener but that, only, away from the city, unless your mayor's doing a nice job with the parks.

It's been a long time but I had nothing to talk about and I was really busy doing other stuff like searching for a job and trying to do something productive with my time, hands and mind. Since nothing much have changed and it wouldn't be even remotely appropriate for the time and for me to sing “I CAN CHANGE THE WORLD WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS” . But after spending some time chugging water, smoking and listening to g-rap and in general bad ass songs I came up with this entry. So sit back, cuddle your teddy bear and read what I have to say.

I was searching for a job till I got a phone call from my uncle who told me that he knows a guy who owns a journalistic website and he'd like to meet me and discuss about a potential hiring. After calling up the guy and talking for half an hour or so, he gave me his office's address and we set up a meeting. At this point I'd like to add that I'm not very familiar with the centre of Athens, the bad areas etc apart from a couple.

So, on Thursday morning I dress up accordingly for a job interview and I set off. I get to the street where his office is supposed to be and start walking upwards to find the right number. I start walking through a park and five or six steps further in that park I hear “psst hey big guy...” and on the right and left of me junkies. Others sleeping, others talking, other bargaining and others shooting. I don't turn around and keep on walking. Further down I see a guy laid down his face pale white and his lips light purple to blue. Then some others started walking my way arguing with eachother so I considered appropriate to go at the other side of the park. Now don't imagine a big spacious park where you can walk around carelessly. It's a small beat down park and when I say I went to the other side I just switched sides and crossed over a little flower bed. That's when I passed by the guy I mentioned earlier who was looking fresher than Pauly D. From Jersey Shore.

I finally make it to the guy's office and we talk for an hour. After some getting to know each other talk and other different kind of small talk, he tells me to check his journalistic website and asks me to call him on Tuesday. Fingers crossed this will go alright.

So... “real bad/ tough guys don't listen to bad ass songs”. Take Rocky for example. He wasn't listening to gansta rap when he was training. Instead he was listening to the “Eye of the tiger” in which the lead singer's voice can go so high that instantly it makes it no bad ass at all. “Bad ass” songs these days consist of deep voices, threats, money, guns and maybe sometimes even some one getting “clicked”. Another example of a bad ass guy who didn't listen to bad ass music was John McClain. In fact the only bad ass song for John McClain is this one



Well to get to the bottom of this, the notion we have today about what's bad ass and what is not is really ridiculous and it wears out after high-school. The best example is a couple guys from my high-school that were the epitomy of cool back in the days but now no one has a clue where they are, what they're doing and very few are those who can say with certainty that they have accomplished something in their lives. So watching Scooby-Doo and porn and reading books is bad ass as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, point number 2 that I'd like to make is that girls and guys with limited potential in getting laid because of their looks, won't meet you to their pretty friends and if they do then expect the world to come to an end any time soon.

Bye for now.

P.S: FLIPPIN IN PHILIPPINES WITH A GUY NAMED PHILIP

In My Parallel Universe I Bet I Would Have Gotten Laid

Well it's been over a month now that I'm practically and officially done with any University work and I couldn't be happier, well actually I could be if that girl from last night that talked to me hadn't been dragged away by her boyfriend after him giving me a dirty look. But since this is going to look like another diary entry, let's take things from the scratch shall we.

Last night my friends who have a band and allow me to dick around with them and pretend I'm part of the group, played a live acoustic set at this bar. Well we played a 30 minutes acoustic set and it went below average at the point where the chatters from the crowd were over-taking our music. The only upper was that it seemed like they liked my intro song which is a completely stupid 30 seconds song saying “yes” and then a long “ooooo”.

Well after we finished playing, we hang around to see the other guys play their set and have a couple of drinks. The other guys' set was quite amazing. They had a guy doing beat-box, they were dancing, they played katy perry and other dance songs and they managed to fill the bar. At some point they even squirt the crowd with a water pistol.

Anyway, as we were outside of the bar getting beers and ouzo from the corner shop at some point I went inside to use the toilette. The guys who were playing were done and most of the crowd was either on the street or had left. I go to the toilette and lock the door. As I'm half way done, I hear two loud bangs on the toilette door. I finish peeing and I open the door.

There was a girl standing there and a pretty one too staring at me. I ask her in Greek why she was banging on the door and she says in English “sorry I don't speak Greek”. Then as a gentleman I am, I apologize and open the door wide open for her and tell her to come in first and then I'd leave. She says “no you first” and I insist. Long story short she gets hesitantly in the toilette staring at me as I walk out. And when I say “staring at me” I mean that stare of “I hope he won't jump on me and rape me” kind of stare.

I go outside and tell my friends wondering if I actually look like the kind of guy who would rape or even force finger bang a girl in the toilette of some bar. 30 minutes after that conversation with my friends and a bit drunker I feel someone tapping my shoulder. I turn around and it was her. She was way drunker than she was when she was in toilette but not pass out drunk. I think she was on the same level of drunkness with me.

Anyway, I say hi, again as a gentleman I am and she says “you're the guy from the toilette” or something like that. I agree and for some weird reason we start touching hands and talking. I've no idea why we started touching hands. And when I say talking I mean exchanging two sentences more. At that moment I'm pretty content with myself when a guy comes and grabs her from her waist and tell her to leave, leaving me standing there as she says “bye”.

But then on the other hand there was this other gilf, I mean girl, I also liked. She was wearing jean shorts, some kind of weird combat boots, a baggy short white t-shirt and a trucker hat and her name hopefully wasn't Bob.

Now, I'm sitting here typing this because I have nothing better to do hence the blogging and smoking. Now that you read my story you can all go back to what you were doing and I'm going to go back and play some playstation 3 and then some guitar.

Bye.

I'm Searching For A Job

You can get a job to quit a job and make money to waste money to go to that job and get a girl and eat food together and get energy so you can be happy the next day at your job.

Small Entry About Stuff

Well, I can't see the point of listening to slow love songs when down. At least not anymore. I used to when I was 15, I used to listen to all the mellow music a man in a mellow/blue mood could ask for, but not anymore. Unless I can relate to the song or it's a “love” issue that brings me down.

See a couple of years ago, might be three, a friend of mine told me that over thinking situations and things can be a major problem. Obviously that friend, was over thinking things and analyzing others way too much, quite like me. But I'm of the opinion that if you're going to do something, then do it right. So, one night over thinking my blue moods and my “cravings” when ever I feel blue to listen to mellow/love songs, I came to the conclusion that listening to slow love songs when I'm down is pointless cause I don't have a girlfriend and if I had one I would cuddle/have sex and OBVIOUSLY talk with her (just in case you were going to judge me)instead of listening to slow love songs alone OR listen to slow songs about heart-breaks again is pointless cause I'm not heart-broken.

So all and all I can't relate and it's stupid trying to relate cause these songs “mourn” or “praise” something completely irrelevant from what I feel when I'm down. It's like laughing out loud to a joke that someone from the group of people next to you at the bar said and completely ignoring the joke your friend said. Or bursting out laughing at a funeral and say cripple jokes at a disabled person's house. Maybe not quite the same but you see where I'm coming from with this. RIDING YOUR BICYCLE OPPOSITE THE ΟΝCOMING TRAFFIC FLOW IS WRONG AND YOU'RE GOING TO GET HURT nick.

P.S: Chicken wings and bbq ribs just get in my belly. I'll come back with a longer entry hopefully sometime soon. This one was cause someone told me you guys missed me.

Airports And Apple-Pies

Well, it seems that once you get used to something and you start to like it, then that something must leave and be replaced with something else that will take a couple of years to get used to and once you do then it'll leave again.

A flight from Athens to U.K, more specifically Newcastle or Manchester, takes up to 4 hours. Plus the waiting at the airport if your flight's not direct, say 6 or 7 hours. Terminals, passport checks, coffee, security check. All these seem so tedious but after the third time flying then you get used to them.

You get used to the loud always happy Americans with their huge back-packs and their face full of excitement cause they made it in Europe. They finally left their glass world and huge everythings and landed in a different reality. You get used to the straight-faced Germans and their creepy laughter. You get used to the French who will smile politely but won't speak any other language but French and when they do speak English then you hit Jackpot. You get used to the Greeks who will always talk about everything and everyone in their company will know everything about anything. You get used to the English, either getting dressed for a fashion show when at the airport, or in those tacky t-shirts with their nick-names on the back and their destination country. Tags so they can remember where they're going.

You get used to the expensive beer and meals. The different prices and the crappy burgers. The nice coffee and all the shops with all the touristic meaningless stuff that to me are there just to be there. The happy couples, the uncomfortable couches and chairs, the businessmen in fancy suits with one hand being the extension of their phone and the second of their briefcase. If they could they'd stick a 3rd one somewhere on the rib-cage area.

You get used to the questions: "How's England?!" "It's different, still there and floating", "How's London?!", "I don't think I like it, but I've only been there once or twice" "What's Amsterdam like?!", "I don't know I've only seen the airport but the airport's nice", "What's Newcastle like?!", "Different from Athens, I like it, you should go", "Why don't you stay there?! What are you thinking coming back here it's a shithole". Well guess I'm falling for shitholes. I hate this place but sometimes I love it and it feels like this place only hates me. That's passion right there right?

I still have a big blue suitcase right outside my front door, a red one outside my room where Chester sleeps on and has covered with cat hair and one down at the basement. It feels nice doing something for yourself and finish it. Just like masturbation but with lessons to be learned in the between and memories. It doesn't matter how it starts or how it ends. All that matters is the in between. Just like in apple-pies.

That Shinny Big Spot On The Top Of Your Head

I'm 500 words or so away from finishing the first part of my final project which from how it looks like, it's going surprisingly well and will be finished right when I set the deadline for it. Now that's a surprise for me as I have the tendency to leave things for the very last minute/second and clown around in the meantime.

Anyway, with this entry, since I'm only 500 words away from completing the first stage of a project that has to be handed in on the 19th of August, I will stick to the tradition that follows me since high-school and waste some time writing this entry.

As I was looking for more information for my essay on the internet, on news websites, porn sites and petting a big elephant with a beak who was standing on my left, I came to the realization that, from what I've witnessed my whole time since I got back, bald dudes have hot girlfriends or when they hang out they have this coolness that no one can come even close to.


My hair started thinning on the sides a while back so I stayed up all night petrified trying to remember if I had any bald uncles or grandparents from my mother's side (cause that's where you get the baldness from) and I didn't. Thank god for that.

Anyway, as I was saying, bald guys seem to be the new hip. The new ponny-tail kind of guys of the late 80's/ 90's. I still don't want to get bald and I still hope not to get bald, unless going bald goes hand in hand with superpowers like being ridiculously attractive or a 100% chick-magnet. Like you're driving in a shinny red convertible car of the latest fashion with brown leather seats, a gold chain on your chest, an unbuttoned black silk shirt and a big cigar in your mouth. You and your bald spot. Maybe a mustache too. But on the other hand I still don't want that as that makes you look like a 50 year old super rich pervert hanging outside high-schools.

Like A Mother In The Delivery Room Giving Birth To A Snotty Little Brat

Well, let me tell you something, to whoever reads this: you'll always be miserable if you don't kill that stuck up brat that lives inside you. That snotty little kid that doesn't want to go out and play because can't face the fact of a maybe loss. No matter where you are and where you live. The only way to happiness is the murder of that little shit.

Now that I got you scared and thinking that I'm either high, delusional, pretentious or whatever you want to call it I'll talk to you about someone that I used to call my friend and wasted too many words on.

Well, let's just say that he (might be a she) wanted always to win. Wanted always to be the best in everything and he was in a way. He always had the perfect hair, best fashion sense, always listened to the perfect for the time kind of music and always had a couple of girls running behind him and boosting his ego even when he was down. Now, some would say that even when he was down it was all pretend for a much bigger ego-boost by others. But either way his techniques seemed to work just fine.

But time flies by so fast and so high kind of like a G6 ( yup just like the song) that the things you considered important and cool when you were 15 or 16 when you hit 20's they've become meaningless and silly. Long story short all he got now to make him (her) feel important is a bunch of objects as trying to figure out what went wrong.

That arrogant little kid still lives inside him (her), no matter how grown up he looks or likes to act and it shows in every move he makes no matter how grown up that move might be. As far as I'm concerned I'm trying to kill that fuck for a couple of months now and the operation is going pretty well. It's mutilated but not down yet.

Right, I'm out to take a shower cause summer makes me sweat like a future mother in the delivery room and if it wasn't for aircondition systems I'd have lost 4 kilos in liquid. Till next time bababooee and keep goofing it up.

I LOVE TO SINGA

It has become a trend and an unconscious plea for values and ideals. Searching back in the 60's , 50's and way more back, desperately for things ourselves diminished in order to look cooler, “move forward” and in general have more “freedom”. But still like dummy dumbs, we look for what we're missing in fashion, trends and pieces of clothing.

I've been watching some T.V lately and every channel I turn to I see the same thing. References in the oldie times, either that's by clothing, genre of music, admiration of actors/actresses of the past etc etc. Even car models from 50's and 60's have come back in fashion this time touched by the amazing technology we have now. Take mini cooper, beatle, vespas (it's not a car, you know what I mean). Take the trend of pin-up girl fashion, the hair, the make up, the shoes, the long dresses, the flowers.

Take the guys. The mustache is back in fashion. THE MUSTACHE! If a guy had a mustache 3 or 4 years back, it was definitely a shining sign of some kind of perversion like pedophilia. But now the moustache carries the weight of coolness and the accessory to have above your upper lip. If you can make it twirl then you're the bomb. If you can't then it's just a pussy-tickler and you should not be allowed anywhere near girls under 18. At least I wouldn't let you anywhere near my daughter if I had one.

Here in Athens, more and more bars start having those “swing nights” or “50's nights” (50 year old swingers come bang and bone each other cripple, sorry but I had to say this). And everyone shows up dressed up like they came straight from the 50's. Acting and talking in the style of 2011. Shaking and dancing like Elvis possessed them and tries to escape their body.

Many are those who wonder why good bands don't come out anymore? Why something good doesn't come out anymore? Is it that we grew old and we're hard to impress or is it that everything is just a copy of something successful? Playing it safe.

I watched True Grit the other days. I really liked it. The acting was perfect, the plot was interesting and the morals of the story were also, well...amazingly portrayed or depicted or presented? If that's a way to say it.

Why true artists that have something to say and not just to show their pretty faces, is hard to find nowadays? Art imitates life. And if life is drained by spontaneity and feelings then art will suck. Maybe that's why this whole "oldie times" became a trend.

Hell I've even seen some porn with detectives from the 30's, shot in 2010. I don't think that's a coincidence. We even miss it when we jack off even if we never lived in that age. We don't miss the times we miss the values, ideals and standards of that age and we desperately try to re-invent them through clothing, style and trends. At least that's what I think. Is there such thing as false-romanticizing and if there is would you say that that's what we're doing? I don't know. I'll have to think about it.

Now I'm off to see my buddies, say some stupid jokes and play music with them. You can listen to our wonderful music on myspace.com/thetuxedoconspiracy. Yes I whore my band. So what? It's the internet. Now that you read all the nonsense I had to say, go and listen to our band and the first to comment this entry, I'll drive or fly wherever you are and give you a big hug and buy you a 200 euros worth of meal. Talking about the good stuff. Champagne, good steak or pasta etc etc. L8erz you n0obz.

Metro Rides, Armpit Sweat And Gypsy Accordions

Normally a ride on the metro equals with awfully strong arm pit sweat odor, tired/anxious faces and 15 year old kids who play music on their phone or smile for absolute no reason. But during my last ride there was another thing added.

I was sitting waiting for my metro to arrive, reading a pizza menu contemplating if the prices were right and how badly I'd like to have one of those pizzas right then as it was 15:54 and I had nothing to eat all day when a group of what I think they were Romanian Gypsies came and sat on the seats next to me. There were 3 guys with accordions and 2 women with one of them pushing a baby trolley.

I lift my head looking at those guys and the woman, trying to see the baby in the trolley but the trolley was covered with a blanket and if there was a living soul in there I have absolutely no idea how it was still breathing. Anyway, the train arrives and we all walk in. I take a seat and I'm ready to fall asleep when I hear an accordion playing.

I turn around looking at the guys that walked in the same car with me and it wasn't them. They were talking. The noise was coming from the other car and was approaching our car. Now in Athens it's a usual thing having hobos, drunks or junkies begging for money in metro rides, telling everyone their problem real loud and then going to each one of the passengers separately asking to spare some change. But I never heard some one playing the accordion and begging for money in the metro.

Anyway, I think it'll probably be one of the Gypsies' friends that got in in another car and started playing asking the passengers to spare some change and I wasn't far out. I lean forward to check and I see this gypsy girl that couldn't be over than 18 years old walking towards my car playing the accordion. She walks over and stands above the person who was sitting right opposite me. I could only see her back and listen to her music.

She turns around, still playing and smiles at me. She had the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, the most perfectly structured face that others pay lots of money to have and a body that again a model would kill to have (and I'm not saying that in the “my hand's down my pants ready to jack off” kind of way) It's the first time I look up at a beggar and then straight down again feeling lost for words and searching frantically for change in my pocket.

I still remember her face and I can say with the greatest of certainties, it's prettier than your girlfriend's. Not in the “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” kind of way. You'd admit it yourself if you were there too. And if you're a girl you'd either cringe of jealousy or you'd question your sexuality for a couple of minutes.

Puppies Kittens And Candy

This entry has nothing to do with puppies, kittens and candy apart from the last sentence which is referred to puppies, kittens and candy. I've been thinking of what to write about on here as nothing exciting or worth mentioning is happening right now. WHATTODO?! Tadaloo! As one would say. I don't know...

Anyway, so I'll write about nothing and hope it doesn't come out so much as a big waste of space, but you might say that that's what blogging all that is: the kid with the hook nose, acne and braces in a family of models. A tool for taking up some space on the internet, dressing up stinky turds in the fanciest and most expensive piece of clothing and placing them strategically every time when creating another entry and sharing it with your buddies.

But blogging can also be alright because blogging promotes the freedom of speech (not that freedom of speech is restricted in our days, or is it?), sharing of beliefs and opinions and blah blah blah but all that with the capability of doing it anonymously. So for example you can trash a “respectable” member of our society spread a stink about him or her (the way your friend spreads the stink of his fart when performs the craft of silent farting right in your face and waves his hand in a right and left motion right across and inches away from his butt cheeks) and ridicule that other person without him ever finding out who really did it apart from “bighungdude23” giving a clue of who might did it.

Right, anyway, let's see what I've been doing lately. I've been working on my final project for University, I went to a house party, I've been playing guitar and writing more crappy songs and I've been singing some too. Under different circumstances I'd describe the party and what happened there but nothing worth mentioning happened. We talked, we spaz-danced, we drank and laughed. Ah...good times.

Revolts and riots are still happening here so if you're contemplating of visiting Athens GR, then you better gear up with masks and make sure to avoid the center of the city till around 7 in the afternoon.

Right, that's it for today, I'll see you around some time and if I don't then come and see me, call me or send an email. Puppies, kittens and candy.

p.s: that puppy on the far right in the picture looks a bit like an asshole.

My Kingdom Of Clumsiness

Lately I've been thinking and discussing with a friend of mine about our high-school days. Even if it's not that long ago that we were dumb, disproportionately over weight, with bad hair cuts and slightly different sense of humor than the one we have now, these days seem so far away but amazing all the same.

I was watching The Laguna Beach on MTV and tried to think of what I was doing back when I was at that age and compare my life with these kids' life. For those of you who have absolutely no clue what The Laguna Beach is, it's a show on MTV following the “real” life of college/high-school graduates from Orange County California. Basically, a bunch of hot girls who like ripped successful, even at 17/8/9 guys, gossip, romance and drama. It's also about guys who surf, wear flip-flops, love parties and getting laid/make out with the previously mentioned ridiculously hot girls while eating sushi at expensive bars and while the girls are competing in bitchiness, make up wearing, high-heel wearing and sluttiness (the latter for only some of them).

Let's begin from the sense of style I had back then. First of all I had big fluffy hair that I was badly straighten every morning, I was overweight and overtly sarcastic with very little friends. I used to watch scooby doo, stupid comedies, read novels and watch The Laguna Beach. Alright, let's start the comparison then.

Back then I was wearing shorts/jeans/track suits (depending on the weather and my mood), bright color t-shirts or checkered shirts, checkered vans shoes, I was saying the wrong thing at the right time and I was secretly overweight. And when I say secretly, I mean it. No one could tell I was a fatty till I took of my shirt which didn't happen very often or not at all.

On the other hand the guys and girls from The Laguna Beach even though they're in high-school/ college they get to have the perfect body, surf and be cool all over. So, let's just say that I'm going down a peg for not having a six pack at the age of 17/18 like these kids in Laguna Beach do/did. Plus I smoked back then too so that's another peg down for me. Let's just say I fail the health/ appearance sector miserably.

Let's examine the sociability factor now. If being in a high-school team counts as being social then I'm proud to say that I was a member of our high-school basketball team. Regardless if that was for skipping classes and pretending I'm practicing with the other guys. And regardless if I barely played in any games. And regardless if at our final game and most crucial, half an hour before the game while everyone was practicing I skipped practice to buy a cheese pie, a cup of coffee and have a cigarette and then during the game I was walking up down the court doing nothing at all apart from just being there looking happy and lost at the same time, asking for a pass and a chance to screw the game for everyone. To be honest I was pretty much a burden but I enjoyed it because I got to piss my team mates off.

Now the kids in Laguna Beach are into sports like crazy and usually the “jocks” are like a family and everyone's ripped and cool and have the perfect hair and is famous. I was famous too but for all the wrong reasons. All and all I was a needle of secretly overweight clumsiness in a stack of slightly cool“jock” hay.

Continuing with the sociability factor I used to talk to only 4 people, and one of them was a "smoking buddy" of mine. From the rumors I heard when I graduated and rumors I heard when I was still in high-school most of the kids thought I was either funny or irritatingly stupid or really immature. Pretty much everyone thought I was weird, apart from my friends. Moreover, the guys from the basketball team wanted to raise money so I go to a hairdresser and shave my head. Thing that never happened. I was never invited to any parties and to the ones I was invited to I never went cause I believed I'd die of boredom.

On the other hand the Laguna Beach kids seem to throw parties every other day and have fun make out and all together have a pretty fun fun time. I'm willing to put money down that I would never be invited to any of their parties so I'm going to say that I fail miserably the sociability factor too.

Uhm what else. My kind of fun used to be going out with my best friend, dressing up in a way we thought we'd look real cool, but actually looking fat with our fringes getting in our eyes, and hanging outside a club at the center of athens with 2 souvlaki and 2 beers each, talk and judge the people who come and go from the club and say retarded jokes.

Finally I believe it's useless to talk about the relationship factor as the closest I've got to a girl was when a 2 years older girl, in her final year in high-school, who I had a crush on offered me a chewing gum while waiting to get my soda from our school's coffee shop. That was the talk of the town for me for over a month. I made all these scenarios in my head how she liked me back and that, that was her move and I kept thinking about it till I saw her kissing her boyfriend which gave me a pretty rough landing. But wait a minute, now that I think about it, there was another girl who I liked and we started talking. She had style and we listened to the same kind of music. We started sharing the same desk, I got kicked out a couple of times for talking to her during class till one day during a class she said: “I want us to be more than friends” I got really excited and I said that I'd love that too. Then she smiled and said “I want you to fuck me”. That's when I noticed that her hair was so greasy that I could see her scalp and she reeked of camel lights. I said “yeah sure...” and then after that class she stopped talking to me.

On the other hand it seems that these guys and girls from The Laguna Beach, they never run out of romance, fairy tale boning, chewing gums and shushi.

Even though it seems that I would fail miserably integrating in the society of the kids from The Laguna Beach and I'd look even weirder than I looked when in my high-school days, as these kids are a really bad imitation of grown-ups in that show, I don't believe I'd change anything that I did back then. These were my moments and every move has mine and my friends' name written all over it. The only thing I'd do if I was invited in one of the Laguna Beach kids' parties back then, is to get drunk and act in the stupidest way possible. And that only because from being too excited to be invited at a party with a mix of pretty and slutty girls. If I was invited now, I'd probably go and chill trying to look cool. Now I gotta go cause Laguna Beach is on.

Much Gangsta Luv and till the next time, bababooee

I AM A DICK, YOU ARE A DICK THAT DOG IS A DICK TOO

Alright, I noticed lately that everyone starts saying that humans are all major dicks, and those who say that also say that they prefer animals over humans and some would rather live isolated cut from any human contact just with animals and momma nature surrounding them etc etc. I was one of them once and still am in a way sometimes. Well, this entry is to prove you that not only we're all dicks as humans, but animals are dicks as well, nature can be pretty dicky sometimes and finally to close this entry with a positive spirit I'll give you some ways I've thought that you could cope with this whole dickiness.

Well, first things first I guess. Let's discuss for a while, the reason those who claim that “all humans are dicks” might believe so. First reason that comes to my mind, is those who say that, might be really unlucky by meeting the wrong people all the time and getting fucked over again and again for ever and on. Second reason might be cause you're some sort of android and you want your tribe to take over and rule the world by turning people against each other till everything gets out of control and no human ever trusts another human being again. But let's focus on the first one.

When I say fucked over by the wrong people I don't necesseraly mean by a girl or a boy that fucked you and never called again or gave you rabies or crabs or some weird crappy STD. It can be your friends fucking you over and maybe using you. Then when you finally ditch these so call friends and find some new ones, them with their turn, they start taking advantage of you again, and again you're getting fucked over. Basically you have absolutely no luck and you're almost always the push over. So from a series of events like that you might form the opinion that people are dicks and suck ass and you'd rather save yourself all the dickiness that you might receive in the future and become a recluse. Many intellectuals were recluses but beware, being a recluse does not make you an intellectual, like drinking till you start puking blood doesn't make you a Bukowski or a Kerouac and wearing pointy shoes tight pants and holding an acoustic guitar does not make you Bob Dylan.

But when and if you find a girflriend or a boyfriend, not just someone to take your sexual frustrations out on, kiss or make out and share the same bed 4 out 7 days of the week, but someone that really means something to you then you contradict yourself as you're dating one of the dicks. And then she or he is not a dick anymore. But when you break up,especially if it happens in terms that you're getting fucked over then you return again to the familiar musical prose of “everyone is a dick”. Now the point I'm trying to make here, is that not everyone is a dick. The X has been a dick to you. The Y might be a dick ( just look at its shape) because they fucked you over till you find the H who might be nice to you for ever and on. See, it's a cycle. Hold your claps, not yet.

Alright, now that we got this out of the way, I'd like to explain why we're all dicks and most of the times act selfishly and blah blah blah. Well, to be honest there's no explanation to this. I guess it's in our nature. Not to do it on purpose of course but you know what I mean. We've all been dicks some time in our lives without realizing it and then we said “holly shit...I was a dick back then” and then we had a good laugh and forgot all about it. Or an uneasy night. Depending on the level of dickiness that was extorted on that specific time. But then again we'll be dicks plenty more times in the future intentionally or unintentionally so...yeah.

On the other hand if you chose not to continue looking for people that might not be dicks to you at some point and majorly fuck you over, then you pretty much deserve being lonely and miserable and everything that comes with keeping yourself to yourself and you should not moan about it, cause maybe I'm saying maybe, if you've tried so hard and you always fail it might not just be the other people's fault. It might be yours. Plus, by admitting that you're a dick, does not make you a nice person or cool. It just makes you some sort of the dicks' king for a moment. Freud would do backflips for me if he was alive today I know.

Now people are dicks because they are selfish and act carelessly 9 out of 10 times and they don't care about what happens around them till they're ass is at stake. But, you might come and ask, “alright, fair enough until now, but why animals are dicks as well... you dick?!” And I shall explain myself further down.

Take bears for example. Those who say that want to move to the mountains surrounded just by mother nature and bears thinking that everything will be jolly, have not thought about the fact that if bears find out where you are and they are hungry, well then they're going to eat you. Pretty dicky on their part isn't it? Even if you feed them every once in a while. When you run out of food, they'll eat you. What kind of a dick would do that?

Uhm...what else? Dogs. It's hard to find something to pin on dogs, but think about this. You own a dog, you take it out for a walk, then you clean the house. The dog is groomed and leaves hardly any hair behind and everything's fine. It climbs up on your couch to have a nap while you're watching T.V. That's fine again, cause as I said before the dog leaves barely any hair behind. And then out of nowhere it sticks its tongue out and starts staining your freshly washed couch covers with that saliva of his/hers. Now what kind of a dick would do that?!

Alright, you get where I'm going with this so let's move on to mother nature and why mother nature can be pretty dicky sometimes. Well, guess one word will do: earthquakes. Or we could see this from the jinx's side and say, rain when you want sunshine, less sunshine when you want more sunshine, no snow during Christmas, heavy snow during Christmas and being a taxi driver, getting bald when pony-tail is coming back in fashion etc etc.

Now for the positive side and a way to deal with this crazy thing called world and human beings. Even though I'm no expert on the subject as I wouldn't cast myself as the most social person out there I'd say that there is none.

The world is divided to tribes, always has been and always will be. Even when these tribes do not carry clubs and wear animal furs and dance different dances every time there's a full moon. All you need is to find your tribe and stick with it. Whether your tribe consists 10 or 2 people. Stick with your tribe but socialize with the other tribes' people cause if you don't then your “village” will get pillaged and you might end up deserted. The best way to go with it, is try and make yourself what you want other people to be. Everyone has something to offer and everyone can learn something from each other. All an all we're all pretty decent guys and girls and we should all throw a party sometime. Apart from the dicks, they won't ever learn anything no matter what and they're not invited to that party, if it ever happens.

Now here's 3 songs in one video to entertain you as a friend of mine said that the length of my entries bore him:

Weather Forecasts And Funerals

Alright, let's keep this entry short and be relatively quick in transmitting thoughts of ultimate constipation.

Have you ever thought what kind of weather would have on your funeral day? Not what kind of weather you wish to have. What kind of weather it would have. Just a wild guess. Have you ever thought how many people would show up? Again not how many people you wish they showed up. How about what they'll be talking about. Would there be any pass outs from any of your relatives? Would anyone cry or would anyone do an exaggerated fake/ selfish cry not because they'll miss you (which again is selfish) but because they lost something, like they cried when they were five and they lost their favorite toy. How about who would read your obituary? Would even anyone write you an obituary? What would it say? Would it be long, short, funny, weird, absolutely boring or cliché reminding everyone the good things you did leaving out all the shitty things you did. Is there really such thing, as “life flashing before your eyes" kind of experience or it's all just a bunch of bullshit to romanticize death?

If you haven't had thought of these questions until now, well now you have or you will start thinking of them.

p.s: yah beechez etc etc

Yeeeeeha...or not

The government is holding back wages and continues with the cuts. There's a group on facebook calling all the Greek people, from all over Greece, to gather at the center of Athens, Thessaloniki and Patra, the three biggest cities of Greece, today to sit- protest against the austerity measures. Another thing that is important to mention here is that no political parties are involved in this protest and no one is attending as representative of any political party.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/%CE%91%CE%B3%CE%B1%CE%BD%CE%B1%CE%BA%CF%84%CE%B9%CF%83%CE%BC%CE%B5%CE%BD%CE%BF%CE%B9-%CE%A3%CF%84%CE%BF-%CE%A3%CF%85%CE%BD%CF%84%CE%B1%CE%B3%CE%BC%CE%B1/210627972310743

Now at this point I'd like to say that I'm a bit relieved as it seems that we finally are waking up but it's still a bit late! But better late than never. Meh... A revolutionary movement when the tip of the knife has passed the flesh and started scratching the bones that protect the lungs. Pretty poetic huh? But still better late than never.

Last year, and even some months earlier, all the political parties were protesting against the austerity measures. A large amount of people were on the streets and another large amount of people were sitting at their homes watching from their t.v sets while having lunch or trying to come back home from work cursing those who had blocked the roads in protest of the austerity measures.



I went to one of these protests outside of the parliament once. In all honesty my stomach turned for a second when I saw 3 or 4 different blocks and banners from different political parties. Your saviors are laughing at your face and you still hold their banners high. I went to one of those marches to take pictures and a guy I used to talk to said: “Pff and why are you going to take pictures? You think you're a photographer or something? Pfff” Do I have to say what this guy was and still is? I bet you know what I'm going to call him...yup a major dickwad.

Plus, everyone was marching behind the block or flag of their political parties. Different marches, different blocks, different ideologies but marches and protests for the same goal with final destination the same place. The parliament. “They're a bunch of morons...of course I won't march with them. I'll be at the protest but with my Union” I heard a guy saying proudly behind his party's block.

This has nothing to do with your Unions. This has nothing to do with which political party you vote for. This has nothing to do with the brand of cigarettes you smoke, which t.v show you watch and who you think represents your political opinion best. This has to do with you, me and everyone else.

I guess this had to happen for people to realize that they're not alone on this planet and all that matters is not just their precious little ass and comfortable beds but also the person next to them. We're all philanthropists and sympathize with our neigbor's suffering only when their suffering becomes ours as well. Till then we just don't give a fuck and we pray to the lord not to happen to us. We only worry when our own life and prosperity is on the line.

This whole, "I'll march with my Union", or "I'll march behind the block of my political party" or "I'll go behind the anarchists block and start breaking things and give a big fuck you to all the others" reminds me of the good ol' “divide and conquer”.

Now they chase the so called anarchists for damage of public property. Tomorrow, they will be chasing the communists for being too whiney. Next day, they'll go for the simple left wings because they will ruin the country etc etc.

And at this point I would like to get my pipe fill it with smoke, wear my monocle and my satin robe, sit in my comfortable chair, cross my legs and recite a part from a poem that is attributed to Pastor Niemoller or Bertolt Brecht. I'm still a bit confused who's it by.


“First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me”

I'm not playing revolutionary, and of course I'd like to think that this is all for the best and it's a step forward. All I'm saying is that I'm glad that finally people decided to act together and put aside their political parties' banners. But on the other hand, I still fear that once the “storm” is over and out, everything and everyone will turn back to “normal” again. Meh...laterz.

P.S: THE PICTURE'S FROM THE PROTESTS THAT HAPPENED IN 2010. And the first one cause I'm an A-class photographer.

Meat Pies, Sandwiches And Some Panties In The Weirdest Of Twists

Dear diary and bored to the bone readers,

This entry is about guitars and averagionality, sandwiches and cheese pies, 7 year old notes, thoughts of giving up and mental slaps.

Our performance in last night's gig was below average. Mistakes were made, barely anyone showed up and all we managed was to sweat, embrace an embarrassment, spend 21 euros at the bar for 3 double southern comforts and celebrate after wards with sandwiches, beers and cheese-pies.

The owner of the bar was a major dick. If he had a whip I bet he'd use it to make us play. It was 11:30 or so and everyone was outside having the last sips from their beers. I was on stage making the last preparations when he said “alright start playing already”. I look around me and I was all alone. I look up and say, “play? I'm the only one here, everyone's outside...you want me to play alone?” He says, “yeah play already!”. So I just strum my guitar up and down and say “there you go I just played...”.

He starts yelling at my friend who was at the bar saying that he's going to cancel the gig if we don't start playing and he won't take no irony from a guy who's half his age. All his panties were in a twist at that point. I put my guitar down and go outside to tell the 10 or so people to finish their beers and come in cause the owner is going crazy, when the door man says “don't bother the gig might get cancelled.” I laugh a little and walk back in.

We get on stage and start playing. There are 4 or 5 people in the bar apart from us. During the second song the rest of the people walk in. Now we count around 15 or 20 people. Hip hip hooray. Our first three songs come out alright. No mistakes but still not perfect for us. During the third song my guitar goes off. We continue playing. We finish the song and I change the cable. The guitar goes off again and I disconnect my delay pedal completely.

We start playing the next song in the list. “Atrophy”. I start playing it a tone higher. I get pissed off and anxious as it sounds crap and in all that confusion I try to find out what's wrong. Finally I realize I'm being a major moron and I correct it at the first chorus. Then we play some covers. “Gin and Juice”, “Anarchy Camp”, “Backyard” with “Heat of the moment” as an intro. Mistakes keep happening, like playing the songs a little bit faster than we should. I'm still let down and pissed off. We finish our set.

A guy shouts “play one more song!” My friend says, “that's all we had...”. The guy says “play Anarchy Camp again!” My friend says “sorry but we can't cause we played it terribly anyway...” Then the guy says “PLAY GIN AND JUICE!” The rest of the band have started packing their stuff on stage and I just stand there confused not knowing what we're going to do. The guy looks at me and says “play the beginning of GIN AND JUICE!” I play the beginning of that song and remind everyone that we might suck but we sweat and we did it for them. Some how that joke seems to get some approval.

We get off the stage, pack our stuff and I go to the bar. I start thinking that maybe we should just call it quits. That was a hard slap on the face and maybe this isn't for us. A friend of ours from another band comes and comforts me by saying “you played alright, but shit happen, don't worry about it, I know you can play way better”. That felt nice but only for a couple of seconds, but much appreciated all the same. Never thought that nice guys like him existed. Meh, you learn something new every day.

The other band finishes playing and we head off. The clock shows 2:30 am and everyone's heading home. Me, my best friend and another friend of ours talk about getting something to eat and then head to a bar. We sit at a sandwich place and start eating and talking. At this point I start over thinking of how much we sucked and sympathy and excuses do nothing but make things worse. “maybe we should just call it quits”

I eat one sandwich, one cheese pie, a slice of pizza and ham-cheese and bacon pie. My friend eats a cheese pie, a meat pie and a sausage roll. The other guy eats a cheese pie. The clock by now shows quarter to four and we decide to head off to a bar.

We get in the car and start driving. We drive down a road where prostitutes hang out. One of them was BEAUTIFUL so me and the other friend of mine make my best friend drive down that road once more to check her out before we go to that bar we were planning to go. He moans and whines but we manage to convince him. Her face was beautiful. She didn't look worn out or tired or like a junky like some of the street prostitutes. If she was standing alone dressed less slutty she could easily be mistaken that she was waiting for someone to pick her up. But she was doing that already, but with the only difference she was waiting for anyone to pick her up.

Anyway, we drive to that bar. We get in. It was crap. We leave. We go at our friend's cafe place which he had to open it at 6 am. At this point the clock shows 4:15. We're all relatively tipsy and tired. We say the stupidest of jokes and do the stupidest of things that only a tipsy guy with no sleep would laugh with. Once again I keep thinking that maybe we should quit.

At that point I think, “fuck it. We shouldn't quit. We should try harder and yeah shit do happen. Maybe that's all we needed to wake us up and start taking things seriously.” This mental slap made everything look better this morning. I was looking at notes and lyrics written 7 years ago and they sucked hard in comparison with the notes and lyrics I have now but I kept doing this cause most of all, as much as cliché as this sounds, I do this for me. It makes me happy, plus it's one of the things that I suck less at and these are the things that everyone should hold on to and keep honing.

We're not going to become millionaires, we may never fill a bar/club, but at least it makes me happy and it makes me smile. Plus another friend of mine today told me that whilst on the bus going through his ipod he wished he had some of our music on it after being at our last night's gig and he didn't even know how much I thought we sucked cause he had to leave to catch the last bus at 12:15 a song before we finish. I want to believe he was honest and if our music makes some people smile and dance then that's all I want.

Moral of this story, is apart from, you have to find what you suck less at and keep honing it and never quit whatever gives you happiness, also, sandwiches and cheese pies and ham-bacon and cheese pies after beers and southern comfort is one of the best pleasures in life.

I love you all the same, till the next time, bababooee and always wear condoms...no matter what you do.

P.S: Can you pay a prostitute for a 15 seconds hug without fucking her? Or is there an unwritten rule that says that that's wrong? Meh...if any of you alpha males out there tries it or has tried it and know, get back to me.

Another Post

Here's another post

The Guy Who Punched Baby Jesus

Sometimes, I remember what my grandmother once said to me and asked me to never forget. “Jesus is always by your side.” That's what my grandmother used to say. Jesus is by my side when I walk. Jesus is by my side when I have lunch or dinner but he never pays for his sprite or beer. Jesus is by my side when I drive my mother's car but he keeps messing with the cd player and the radio stations changing all of my favorite songs. Jesus is by my side when I drink coffee and smoke, but he never buys his own and empties my packet. Jesus is by my side, but he pretends he's not looking when I get dragged down. But I can hear him chuckle every time this happens. Jesus is a “party bro” wearing flip flops, and the ugliest of pony tails, bullying me for being goofy and unlucky when it comes to getting laid. Jesus does the petty talk with me when I do something wrong but never celebrates with me when something goes right. Jesus lives with me but he never carries his keys and wakes me up in the middle of the night. "Let me in". Jesus has done nothing after being the main character in a book and some movies. All of them autobiographical. I wonder how does his father feel. Jesus does nothing but chuckling at my failures, smoking my cigarettes, never paying for his beer and bullying me. I'd gladly punch him, but then I think I'd be the guy who punched baby Jesus and no one would like to be facing the entire world's nuns. And nobody would want to hang with the guy who punched Jesus. And I wouldn't want to be left all alone. Or everyone would want to hang with the guy who punched Jesus but then again I don't think I could stand everyone wanting to hang out with me. Jesus that would be tiring.

Driver's License- Coffee Game Part Deux

Here's another part of that game I like to play when I go for coffee

Driver's License

One day I swear I'll escape
it's the worse of cliches
but I swear like a bird I'll fly away
I'll break free from my cage
away from fears and the rage and the stress
that keep me from sleeping

one day I swear I'll live
the life that I once was read to sleep
and like a protagonist from a story
from back when I was still a little a boy
I'll get the girl and drive away
cause it'd be a hustle to ride a horse in the city

we'll drive for days and nights
armed with favorite records and whiskey
get a house somewhere far away but I'll be driving back
every time my friends say they miss me

these are the thoughts that help me sleep
and these are the thoughts that make me hope for a better day
and most of all this the reason why I got a driver's license

p.s: railer

Ice-Creams And Funerals

Categorizing friendships and resembling them to "herpes" never made me chuckle before. I just finished writing one of the essays I have to hand in on the 6th and since this calls for a break, I thought of writing down on here something that I wrote on my way back home as I was sitting at the waiting room at the airport waiting for my flight to arrive.

So according to what I wrote while waiting for my airplane, relationships seem to fall in to three categories. Depending on the level of likeness between the two individuals, their common interests etc etc. Below I'll give you the three categories and don't go hard on me. When I wrote this it was 5:30 in the morning, I only had 2 hours sleep, I was feeling like the world had just kicked my balls and I was sitting next to a couple with a baby that was crying constantly.

To make this easier for me to explain and easier for you to understand I'll measure the likeness and the common interests between two persons with a scale from 1 to 10. So here we go:

A) 2-3/10: People that fall in this category for you, are the ones who you once met, had a relatively okay time, but you wouldn't want particularly to see them again and if you did chances are you wouldn't have a good time cause the hype of the first time meeting is now gone, the circumstances are different, you either realized he/ she is a bore or he/she has realized till now that you're a bore etc etc. Now you'll say how I can tell if one falls in this category, and I'm here to say that, there's only one way to find that out. Hang with that person again and risk to have the most boring time of your life, just to find out that the other person who falls in this category is the very same guy who would take a dump in your bed, criticize you like he knows you from way back or act like Kanye and try to steal the thunder from every moment of yours even when it's not even your moment.

B) 3-6/10: Now, in this category fall mostly what I like to call "coffee buddies" or "drinking buddies" if you find that "coffee buddies" sounds too feminine. These are the people who are either your high-school buddies, the ones you used to share the same loath for that science teacher, the same ones who you used to go to the backyard and have a sneaky cigarette and felt like big men, the ones who you used to talk about girls' boobs and the ugliest girl's in the school nose and acne. You do have things to talk about with these guys and sure spend some quality time with them but not for longer than a cup of coffee, which usually lasts for an hour or two. These are the people who you'll call once a week or once every two weeks, go out, catch up and talk about nothing at all. Basically they're there to make you feel good about yourself and vice versa. Compliment you, maybe agree with you in an argument you had with another person etc etc and all of that because they don't know you quite well to tell you "you're full of shit, shut the fuck up" and they're not the kind of assholes the people from the "A" category are to go ahead and criticize you. I'd say they're there and you're there for them both following a non-spoken agreement of give and return but in small quantities.

C) 6/10: This one's the big one. The important one. If you have more than two of these people in your life you're lucky. If again you don't then you're not lucky. Now if you're over thirty and you don't have one of these in your life, chances are your wife or girlfriend is one of them.- and it's not quite the same as it's complicated but it's better have something than nothing- Now, if you're over thirty, don't have one of these in your life and you don't have a girlfriend or wife, then not only you're not lucky but you're basically fucked. Sorry. You should start making preparations, hiring extras to come and cry at your funeral because honestly don't tell me that you actually believe that any of the above categories will show up or show up and really feels sad about you being gone. Coffee buddies and random strangers that fall in the "A" category come and go just like herpes, but they're less annoying. And they're wanted. But anyway. So yea, start making preparations, hire extras, maybe if you can afford it, some real quality young actors as well to bawl their eyes out in the front seats. Anyway, you got the point about which people belong in this category. Friends or best friends. Call them as you may. These are the ones who you can confide to, have drinks with, expect them and wanting them to judge you because you know they're doing it because they care and mean well. These are the ones who are not ashamed of who you are, what you do or whatever you say.

Now, I'll go a few lines up and say that in this category, might also fall the girl/boy you'll end up being with and sharing a house, but the irony is that you can never be certain about them till they're beside you through your whole life and by your bed side when you're 80 you shit yourself faster than the speed of light, coughing and slowly dying. So, if you're lucky, them along with your other friends who belong in this category are the ones who will make all the funeral arrangements for you. Pay for you. Decide the quality of your casket and maybe cry at the front seats for your loss or be happy that you finally got out of your misery.


That was it! Who wants to grab an ice-cream and have some fun with me one of these days?

LONDON, SOHO PART 1- I AM A KARDASHIAN= UNSTOPPABLE

Everyone's slick covered in cologne and fancy clothes. They belong together, all dressed up and ready to mate but I don't fit in quite well. It's obvious. My gray hat and pants, and green checkered shirt make it obvious. That night I left my swag back at the hotel. They're about to enter a club called "Punk" standing in a cue ready to give the doorman the 5 pounds just to get in. I wanted to get in. But as soon as we stood outside I realized I'd be like a geek lost in a sea of hipness, coolness and machoness. But the night was amazing as I got complimented that I don't look like a goat, got to judge on a random girl's tits and high fived her for having an abortion because I thought she was joking around. But let's take things from the start.

Next place we decided to explore was Soho. After, taking a full ten hours sleep we woke up ready to face the day. Feeling less like Indiana Jones and more like 5 year olds on Christmas Eve. At least me. We got ready and we went to Camden for breakfast and some shopping. We failed miserably to look like any of the characters from Sex & The City as we'd discussed we'd look like, and I feel quite happy that we didn't. Even when we went to check out for some more shoes the clumsiness, goofiness and inappropriate jokes muted the femininity of that activity.

After a couple of coffees, couple cigars, a couple more cigarettes, window shopping and trying out instruments at different music stores, we decided that it was time for us to get back at our lovely hotel room, relax for a bit and get ready for the night.

We passed by the Electric Ballroom and there was a huge line full of glam rock guys and girls. Torn tight jeans, high nike shoes, guys with leopard tights and girls with short skirts and ripped stockings. It was a spectacle but we didn't stay to look at it for long. Just passed it by.

Drank the last 2 Bodingtons that were left in the hotel's fridge and headed out. This time we went at a small restaurant and had something delicate and also cheap to eat. I ate mine and the left overs from my friend. That's how I express my delicate feelings when it comes to food.

Then we decided that it was high time to decide where to go for some drinks. We went to a corner shop bought a can of Becks' beer each, they put it in a brown bag for us and we sat outside a bar to drink them. Outside one of the bars there was a "pack" of pretty girls. Nice dresses, high heels, they looked tipsy and boarder line classy. We kept taking sips from our beers checking out the people who entered that specific bar. Mostly suits, mid 30's and girls in nice dresses. Came to the conclusion that it was not for us. Hang there for some 30 or so minutes more.

Then the endless search for a bar to have a quiet nice drink began. We kept on walking and walking around for at least an hour. Stood outside that club "Punk" that I described at the beginning, walked in a hard rock bar to use the toilette and decide that it was crap and it doesn't fit our needs apart from the toilette part. Passed by a small hardcore/punk bar that we said we should avoid it and try something different since we're in London. Tried to get in a nice jazz bar that had a live band playing. I put out my cigarette, we ask how much is it to get in, the doorman with no shame says "30 pounds" I burst out laughing. We keep on walking.

After 3 full rounds around Soho we ended up at the hardcore/punk bar that I can't remember the name of. The doorman is a guy in his mid 30's, beer belly, bald spot and tattoo filled hands. We ask how much to get in. He says "4 pounds" and there's a live band playing. We enter. Unlike the other bars/clubs we stared and contemplated of getting in, we feel welcomed here. No funny looks. It feels friendly and it feels warm. Just like your home's toilette. Only bad thing, the band that was playing is packing up as soon as we make it in the main room.

Beer was 3,50 and spirits 3.70. My friend sticks with beer and I decide to get jack daniels and coke. First 3 rounds are on him cause I'd paid for food and the entrance. Then I decide to get some rum. Sailor Jerry and coke. My friend gets another beer.

As we're in the smoking area, having a cigarette, making plans for when I get back home and discussing many other different things a girl comes up and asks us where we're from. I say Athens Greece. She turns to her friend and they both smile. We start having a conversation. They're both from London. Well, one of them the most drunk is from Liverpool and claims to be John Lennon's grand-daughter. I claim to be Frank Sinatra's grandson just to balance things. She doesn't believe me. Her loss.

My friend asks them what they do, how old they are, trying to make a conversation. They say that they're both "sluts, working as hookers, on a street behind the bar" we were in. They also mention that they need no pimp cause they're self-employed and they're their own bosses.

The drunkest girl keeps asking me if I'm related to the Kardashian family because of my accent. "You're accent's weird...are you related to Kim Kardashian..." I tell her that Kim Kardashian is hot. She bursts out laughing at the way I say "hot". I decide to play along and say that I am indeed related to the Kardashians. My friend confirms that. From that point and on I AM A KARDASHIAN= UNSTOPPABLE.

The drunkest girl keeps on talking and talking about nothing and everything. I look at her friend and she says "I'd look at you the same way if I were you. I've no idea what she's on about." I smile. Then she turns and asks me "what do you think of my tits?" I say that they're alright keeping calm but howling on the inside. She presses them up and comes closer. "No take a closer look! Would you pimp me out? I don't need a boob-job right?" I laugh and confirm her that she doesn't need a boob-job and that her tits look fine.

Then she continues talking explaining us how she wants to have 5 kids but she already had an abortion. I think she's joking and I say "high five killer". She laughs and high fives me but then she gets the joke. "Hey that's not funny!" Her friend laughs though. I apologize and she accepts my apology.

After a while and while my friend is inside getting another beer for him, she gives me a hug and tells her friend how I remind her ex boyfriend. She asks me how tall I am. I say 5.6 or 5.5 but no more than that. She finds my shortness adorable and her friend tells her that I look nothing like her ex boyfriend cause I don't look like a goat. Then the drunk girl asks me to go like a goat for her. I pass.

Then they turn to eachother and start talking in Italian. Another guy comes over and they ignore me completely. Then after 5 minutes they start walking away. "We're leaving bye" and they wave at me. "See you later have fun..."


p.s: that's not me in the picture.


.

A BUBBLE OF DARK GREEN SNOT

We all had a geek once during our school years. I'm not talking about the goofy nerd. Don't get them two confused. I'm talking about the annoying geek who would suck up to the teacher, always was prepared and sneer at you when you didn't know the answer and was ready to cry when the teacher wouldn't pick him/her to come up to the chalk board.

Well, when I was 14, in junior high-school we had this girl and she could easily be crowned queen of the geeks. Her hair was always greasy and she used to dress like she had no mirrors in her house. Even during intermission she'd hang alone revising the chapters of the class we had next, plus some of the chapters forward, she'd read on her own, while the rest of the us (that including me and some of my friends) were busy playing spit wars, pinching and giving dead arms to each other. Plus, she had that superior look on her face. I'm not saying that I was someone that a girl with her maturity would look as equal but it was junior highschool godammit come on.

Anyway, every time a teacher picked her to read a chapter from a book she'd wear that look on her face, boast in a silent way, and started reading with an authoritative steady voice. No matter what happened she wouldn't stop reading if the teacher didn't tell her to.

One day a teacher tells her to read a chapter and from the way she was speaking you could tell she had runny/stuffed nose. She blows her nose discreetly and wipes it, saying “of course I will” and starts reading. The rest of the class pretended to pay attention to her dull voice reading over a more boring text when out of the blue we hear her sneezing and a “blup” noise. She doesn't stop reading. I turn around and I see a small green bubble of snot hanging from her nose. I nudge the guy next to me and we chuckle. Then the other guys notice it as well. I look at the teacher and she looks a bit disgusted but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't stop the robot to wipe her nose.

A few paragraphs later that green ball of snot has turned to a greenish/white stream running from her left nostril down to her lips. She was using the tip of her tongue to prevent it from getting on her lips and stop her from reading. Me and the guy next to me, sitting in the middle row 2 desks from the end, have buried our faces in our hands and try not to make our laughter audible to our teacher.

After a while the teacher stops her and we start discussing what she read. I didn't have a clue what the text she'd read was about as I was too busy paying attention to her licking her snot, so I decide instead of participating in the conversation, to tell my friend a joke I'd heard that morning. I tell him the joke and he bursts out laughing. The teacher looks at us and ask us what we find so funny in that religious text. I keep a straight face while my friend keeps laughing hard and the teacher says to my friend “Alright you...come and sit in the front row...”. So, she separates us.

But my friend made the tragic mistake leaving the sandwich he'd just bought during intermission beneath our desk. He turns around as the teacher starts writing on the black board. I take his sandwich out. He makes a signal that if I touch it one more time I'm dead. Needless to say I took a big bite out of it and then when tried to give me a dead arm during intermission I got away and back in the class and spat on his backpack and then we took the spit-war into a whole new level.

p.s: During the same intermission that we took the spit-war to a whole new level, we found out that the geek had shat herself. Now we were saying that “she shit herself” but I'm not pretty sure if she'd really shat herself, but all the marks were there: BROWN STAIN ON THE BACK OF HER PANTS, THE SMELL OF SHIT AND EVEN A FLY FOLLOWING HER AROUND. Come on, could you blame us?

Fellini, Orgies And Plenty Of Mustaches

I bought my ticket for London as soon as I cashed my paycheck. 45 pounds. That meant that I had only paid 30pounds for the ticket and 35 pounds for the hotel we were going to stay.

I arrived in London at 3:45 in the afternoon and sat outside Camden train station waiting for my friends to pick me up. A guy from a rally against child abuse was trying to start a conversation and hopefully persuade passers by to become members and donate some money. He had absolutely no luck. I decided to talk to him by calling him over saying that I was interested. He told me that they get 5000 calls a day at their call center from kids that are being abused or from neighbors who call to report a child abuse. Last case that was taken to court he says, was about a 5 year old girl who had to testify against her uncle who sexually abused her. My welcome to London.

My friends arrive and we go to KFC. I hate the way they treat animals but I love the way their food tastes. Maybe someday I'll manage to control myself and stop buying their goodies.

We walk through Camden in a market with stores that sell second hand everything. Books, coats, hats, shirts, tuxedos, shoes, musical instruments and aromatic candles. My friend expresses his fear that the guy at the shoe store won't let him change the shoes he bought yesterday and found out that they're small for him. I stand outside the shop as he explains the situation to the shop owner and he lets him choose another pair of shoes but his money are not returnable.

He starts trying all these different types of shoes as I walk up and down. Checking out second hand books, weird looking mirrors and mugs. A couple passes me by that looks like they just got out of a Motley Crue convention. Four girls stop next to me and start checking the second hand books. They all look pretty but when they start talking they become as ugly as Hunchback. I wouldn't mind going for a drink with them Hunchbacks though.

We get to our hostel room. The walls look old and worn out, the closet has 3 hangers in it and to unlock/lock the door you need to learn a trick. Lift- Pull- Turn- Press down- Lift again and push. My friend asks if we can smoke inside the room. The girl says “oh no you can't cause then the fire alarm will go off. “ I ask what about if we're beside the window? He gives a negative answer. After she leaves I look up searching for fire detectors. There's none. Guess she heard the expression from other hotels and she thought of using it to make the place look more official.

We leave our stuff, have a beer and make arrangements to go to a gig in Hackney, East London. But before we go to the gig we need to get something to eat. We get to a Turskish restaurant. The food there smells great so we give our order and take a seat. On the table next to ours, there's a girl in her mid 20's sitting by herself. She has her face painted similar to Kesha's make up and she wears her bra over her shirt sipping a cup of black coffee. A friend of hers arrive with a bottle of wine. She's a bit drunk, then 3 other girls walk in. They start taking swigs from the bottle and they talk really loud. The second girl that walked in turned to me and say “Oh sorry for being loud...” I say it's alright and wait for my food to come.

We start eating and then the girls in the same tone they start talking about trips to the United States, Fellini movies and lesbians and coprophagia in movies by Italian named directors. Once again, the same girl turns to us and say “Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you guys were eating...” Once again I say it's fine and continue eating my food. They don't lower their voices and keep talking about feces, orgies, lesbians, art and hopes for exhibiting their art in London galleries. I turn around and ask the girl, “so you're all artists?”. She looks at me and says, “uhm...no...” I ask what they do? Before the first girl has the chance to answer, a friend of hers jumps in the conversation saying “we're not artists but she is and she doesn't know it.”

I nod and I go to turn around when the first girl says “I handed in my last assignment today, I can finally say that I graduated... but we're all artists in our minds” I congratulate her and then tell her that what she said is pretty deep. She doesn't get the sarcasm. “Why what do you guys do? Why are you here?” she says looking at us. “We're trying to enjoy our dinner and just live I guess...” I say. “I can't enjoy food...I'm scared I'll get fat...” she says and my friend smiles and says “oh we don't have a problem with that, we can enjoy it just fine.” After a while they get up and leave. We finish our meal and go to the gig.

While having a cigarette outside the bar, it looks like everyone competes with each other for craziness and originality. Mustaches, tight fisherman's jeans, long coats, loud voices, weird theatrical acts for absolutely no reason. The show's inside but they're giving their own special show outside trying to amaze their peers or at least that's how it looked to me.

That was East London for me, next post will be about Soho, hopefully if I don't forget. L8erz