Hello there. The angel from my nighmare. The shadow in the background of the morgue

Many things have come by. I won't talk about them, once more. I'm not suffering though. Too old to do that. Things get far more complicated than that. Good night to you, fellows.


Proud of myself

Being proud of oneself is a great deal, I daresay. There are many ways to. Some people are proud when they've created something. I will admit that I've almost never felt that. For me, being proud has everything to do about doing right in human relationships (and being the same person drunk and sober). And it's the first time that I haven't shamed myself, in a while.

Well just another self-centered post. But believe me, you've missed the worst.

PS. I've decided to expand the blogs I read also to music ones. Take a check


People are leaving

and I'm creating. It's been the first good photo I've shot in ages. Just enjoy the bittersweetness.


It's complicated part I

Did you ever end up laying inside a sleeping bag in your own home, on your own bed? I have. The story behind this isn't so important (or, I'd rather not talk about it).

Rien ne va plus? Not quite. I'm having a sober day and a busy tomorrow. Let's see...


The pains of being pure at heart (in a promiscuous body)

(sexy swimmers fished on the internet)

I hope to be clear from the start: this text will be humorous, ironic, angry maybe but not very serious (because if you treat these matters seriously you die bitten by your cat, they said).
Anyway, the thing is: in our modern societies, sexuality ain't the least liberated. Even in the 16th century everyone was copulating in the barns, in the palaces and everywhere else, and that was a fact. Our era, contrary to that, is full of pretension. Phony monogamy, closeted homosexuality, pious virgins with gaping assholes and who knows what else. If you're a woman who fucks around, you're loose (think about the etymology), a whore or anything else considered a demerit. If you're a man who doesn't you're a looser, a "pussy" and the list could go on forever. Talking about liberation here.

Well, as Engels denoted, monogamy comes hand-in-hand with property and capitalism. So, it's no wonder that the previously mentioned are happening. But the pretension is the icing on the cake. In our modern society, matching what you say and what you do is a real revolutionary act. So, you can either come close to your sayings or your acts. That's your choice, hon.


A boring easter holiday (or remembering-forgetting)

This Easter holiday has been quite uneventful. Syros is beautiful as usual and going to Myconos has been a (mild) experience but, otherwise, nothing really groundbreaking is going on.Hanging on with the same people, having drinks without expectations, sleeping as much as one can, not doing my homework, having a mess of a house that can't fully handle three grown-ups with requirements. And, of course, I'm missing the Gastouni factor. Bad music, great cocktails by the sea, my cousins and the local gossip. Well, that has been an experience I'm not keen on repeating.

Anyway, that boredom has (curiously) reminded me of one thing. It's been a lot of years since I've been in love with anyone. I think that this actually contrasts with the boredom waves.

My hopes are on the next week. Happy Easter to all of you.



I could write a book, once again. But there's no need. Hard earned money fits my tranquility right now. Good night to all of you.


Growing up?

I'm 25 now. And when I think that I was 19 when I started this blog, I have mixed feelings. Since then, I've moved to another town (an island, even), finished architecture school and started an Msc, had a tremendous love life (in both senses), and of course, some things remain. Like my friends and my beliefs, and I'm very glad about that. But there's one thing that has been troubling me which ain't recent at all. In the end, are we growing up or down? I've had a moment of clarity yesterday (as I recently do when hung over) where I've realized that, in my case, it's probably down.

Experience ain't always a good thing, I tell you. At least it isn't, if it's accompanied by assimilation. You are exposed to something, you reject it, and then it happens again and slowly it's part of what you accept. STOP IT WHILE IT'S STILL EASY. Otherwise you'll end up, as your parents predicted, following their steps. Or worse.

A birthday can always be a day for reflection. Who have I been and what have I done for the last x years? Have the last ones been better than the previous? If not it might be time for change.

Beware honeybunnies. If I wrote this post yesterday it would be a cream-and-roses- filled delirious and a little bit dangerous romance. But let's use experience to avoid trouble for once.