Tuesday, 27 July 2010


First of all, I'd like to apologize if yesterday's post offended anyone> It was not a matter of sensationalism but of anger, I guess. When I start writng i 've no idea where it's all gonna lead or how it'll evolve. It's not really writing in this perspective it's more of a way to get to know myself. A friend lats night said: and by putting it down on paper you will discover who you are. I'm not sure if I;bve made a fiction out of myself and my life, this is just extra confusion, and yet i fear the true fears and demons that play under my skin and slide down my veins. Are they there? have i put them there? are they gonna go away? do i wannt themt o go away?

second...seems no second thing for today. There's a murder or a suicide or just a plain death waiting to happen inside.celebrated randomness gets on my nerves, it's not that funny anymore either but it's kind of disappointing and fake. YEAH!let's go create ourselves from scratch.Next time you see me i will be a serial killer after your sons and daughters.I'm like a walking suicide now, mouth parched, eyes blurry.Dangerous?All the shit on tV, all the shit on the radio. piling up, stink up to the sky.what's the most lovely and romantic and nice thing you could do about me? wash my clothes/ cook my dinner/ tie my bicep and shoot it up/i could go find your dealer but i'm not in the mood/just knock my head against the wall or better the porcelain of the bath tub, i'll go out drooling blood and in style.That's romance, I'm telling you.

Btw, I saw a documentary yesterday that reminded me of you and all the shite around. In 1940-something Greece possessed by the nazis, unspeakable acts of violence and atrocity took place:
a) six-year-old boy and four-year-old sister step into the house: dad lying on a matress by the corner, other little brother on another mattress on opposite corner, mother stood up against wall. The siblings come in, calling to their mom. When they touch her, she collapses down wall, dead, skull caved in by blow, and red trails of red down the wall and from her back. The brother has been gutted out and has been repositioned on his stomach in his mother's feet. when the six-year old tries to wake him up and turn him over all the insides are being poured out of him. dad in corner already dead, troat slit or something. maybe he was even alive when all this happened.
b) nazis enter the priests house, the priest 's got five kids, among which an 18-year-old daughter. they stand them up. They cut daughter's breast off and put it in the father's mouth.They cut the father's penis off and put it in the daughter's mouth. they make a big fire like a furnace of sorts and push those other kids in there alive.
(However, when war is over, and communism seems to be the prevailant party or political belief in Greece, europe forgets all about Germany's compensations and asks Germany's help in order to suppress Communism rising across europe. Greece feeds its children to the lions -always has, always will. ((Too mnay questions arise. About drawing lines. About forgetting. About ehat can push a man into crossing the lines and becoming a mosnster. need? duty?or something inherent in humankind, in the human heart?)

"History doesnot repeat itself, man does"


  1. Offended? Never! Yesterday's post had a fearful, ugly reality for me but at the same time there was a beautiful sense of recognising a fellow traveller.

    One of the things that frightens me most is that the ability to become a monster must be in us all just waiting for a convenient excuse. I've never doubted that it's inherent to the human psyche.


  2. wow. given my obsessive extensive knowledge of the holocaust, none of this is surprising. I read a book about their medical experiments on gypsy children.

    i loved your poem from yesterday. totally gutted me.

    it's all so true...not offensive.

  3. You don't have to apologize for what you wrote. This is your blog, you have an adult-content warning, if someone doesn't like the first lines, he is still able to stop reading. Considering that you have to write to find yourself or to help yourself ... well, another reason to not apologize :)

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  5. Malcolm,
    we're all monsters in sheep's clothing. it seems that the ability to perform atrocities is not only inherent in us but also a deep dark desire burning within.
    thank you for always and everything

  6. Killer Luka: where there any pictures in the holocaust book? (i'm atrocious and starved for the grotesque,i know)Thank you very much.

  7. Lisa, yeah, I keep forgetting. Maybe the apologize was to myself, such stuff fascinate me and appal me at the same time, so maybe it's just this that makes me feel bad.(why do i have this tendency inside me? why do others?)
    thank you, girl, and thanks for dropping by.

  8. Changeling.
    THANK YOU.Really. For everything.