My Blog

For Robert Anton Wilson

evgeniafotiou — Wed, 25 Apr 2007 05:11:48 GMT

An appropriate and spontaneous goodbye, from my fridge.

Howard Zinn

evgeniafotiou — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 21:19:26 GMT

this past October in Madison.

Frank Black

evgeniafotiou — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 21:17:35 GMT

from his November 2nd concert in Madison.

My neighbor's bike

evgeniafotiou — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 21:15:48 GMT

Where is home?

evgeniafotiou — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 17:54:19 GMT

I am asked this question often. So often in fact, that I should have a pretty good answer to give by now, only I don’t. Which is why I decided to write this essay, to make sense of my own experience, my life in the last nine years. This is how long I have been away from “home” - the place where I was born and raised: Greece. My usual answer is that I am a gypsy, or a nomad of sorts. My journey has brought me to live in four different countries and cultures in the past nine years even though I spent roughly half of that time in Madison. It all started with an exchange program that took me to Vienna, Austria, where I met my husband. I decided to spend another year there as a special student before we came to Madison for Graduate School in 1999. Since 2003, I spent two years in Peru, doing fieldwork, and one year in Germany before recently returning to Madison to complete a full circle of adventure and growth. I have experienced “culture shock ” multiple times in these years. My first night in Vienna I couldn’t stop crying and wanted to go back home instantly. A few months later I went home for a week and I could not stop crying because I felt out of place; I was experiencing “reverse cultural shock” and everything around me seemed unreal. My first month in Vienna I hated everything about it. Eventually I came to know it like the back of my hand and it became my favorite place in the world. It was hard to leave it behind but there is this force inside that keeps me going. Sometimes I think that I will not rest until I have known every corner of this planet; but most importantly, until I have met people from every culture in the world. If I think about it, the best thing about having lived in all these places is the people I had a chance to meet. People that enriched my life in many ways. They showed me the possibilities that are out there and inspired me to follow my dreams. I hope I inspired some of them too. There is something unique in sharing a bit of your self with strangers when being away from home. It makes you feel alive and connected. I have made friends in all the places I have lived; some of them feel like friends for life. It feels rather comforting to have friends in all the corners of the world. That is not to say that the last years of my life have all been peachy. I have encountered people who were rude, aggressive or plainly threatened by me because I am different. I have experienced many misunderstandings and cultural frustrations. At first I found it hard to cope with things that I now consider “normal”. There were dozens of things I had to get used to, from the way Americans throw a party to their diet and social etiquette. In my country we feed our guests to death, here they serve crackers and cheese and you bring your own drinks. I was used to a spontaneous attitude about going out. Here we often have to make plans weeks in advance. People don’t understand my humor and they might get offended at times, even though they are too nice to say it. Where I come from we touch others a lot more and we don’t keep the vast distances from each other that Americans do. On the other hand, personal space is not respected as much. People are in your life all the time and they always have an opinion. I guess I have come to appreciate American individualism even though the social distance makes me feel lonely at times. There are countless little things that challenge my way of looking at the world, from the fact that a physician diagnosed me with depression in five minutes and immediately offered to prescribe pills to what I view as Americans’ obsession with safety. And don’t even get me started on the size of their cars and the energy they waste! Despite what you might conclude from the above most of my friends here are Americans. Whether it was our mutual love for poetry or rock n’ roll, we made many friends in Madison. Apparently I get along with them better than with some of my own country people who just don’t know what to make of me and my husband. My husband is Bulgarian and we speak German at home, while living in countries where other languages are being spoken. Sometimes we joke that if we have kids they are going to be pretty messed up culturally… I couldn’t tell you the secret little ingredient that makes life sweet; all I know is that my happiest time was when I was doing fieldwork in Peru and all my possessions could fit in two suitcases. I wore the same clothes for months and had little else to call my own, and despite the cultural differences I was happy. And I am a better person for having gone through that experience. I wouldn’t be the same today had I not witnessed the dignity and the humanity of Peruvian people despite their poverty. Bottom line is I have found things that frustrated me in every place I have been, but I will not dwell on them. What is important is to focus on the things that bring us together, not the things that separate us. After all this you must think that I am a proper citizen of the world. Not so. No matter how much I travel my roots remain the same and they are strong. I try to go home once a year to keep that contact with my roots and my kin, but that annual return turns more bizarre every year. I realize that a lot has happened in people’s lives that I have missed and they have missed what happened in mine. I nurture my friendships from afar but it is not the same as actually being in each other’s lives. Then the culture seems to change more every year I go back. The language itself for example; there is always some new slang phrase that I am not familiar with and people have to translate for me. I immediately feel like an outsider and I curse the day I left Greece. I speak the way people used to speak ten years ago and I can barely keep up with all the changes during my annual visits. I could tell you that home is the place for which I look up the weather online everyday, but I have four places in MyUW weather module. Home might be the house I grew up in, the street where I played as a child, the tree I found refuge in. But I found refuge in many places since then. In all of them, I learned, I felt and shared. I carry a little bit of all these places inside of me, like the turtles that carry their home wherever they go. I miss them all the same. In the end, the only thing I can say for sure is that home is where my loved ones are but again I have loved ones all over the planet; people who made me more loving, open, grounded, confident and tolerant. With all its beauty and frustration, I wouldn’t change a thing in my journey of the last nine years. And I know that there is more to come. As I watch my husband sleep, I know I am home. OK, how about this for an answer: home is where I am right now, where I have been and where I will be.

Impressive

evgeniafotiou — Mon, 26 Jun 2006 22:39:07 GMT

graffiti in Hamburg - a city that stole my heart.

Berlin

evgeniafotiou — Mon, 26 Jun 2006 22:29:15 GMT

Wandering the streets of Berlin.

A day at the Zoo

evgeniafotiou — Thu, 15 Jun 2006 17:04:54 GMT

Yesterday we went to the Cologne Zoo. It was one of those days that fill you with thoughts and feelings and infinite sadness and I wanted to share it with you… I think that you have to be a hard-ass and totally unaware of what happens around you, to survive a day at the Zoo with a cheerful disposition. And I don’t mean the conditions in which the animals live. The Cologne Zoo might be the best zoo I have ever seen in terms of the space the animals have, cleanliness and general physical wellbeing of the animals. They seem to be doing well enough to reproduce in steady numbers. The problem was that I was confronted with intelligent beings who are basically imprisoned. Yes, I was shocked by their intelligence, their sadness and even humor. How can we not see that? They know they are caged, some even know it is slave labor that they do in exchange for safety and food. They deal with this each in their own way. The cheetahs, totally aware of humans taking pictures – including myself – walked to the front of their confined area, climbed on a tree trunk each and took a grandiose shit in front of everyone, as if to say “this is what I think of all this!” I spent a long time at the seals – an animal I just adore – videotaping them amongst screaming children who where luckily more interested in the penguins nearby and didn’t stick around for long. One of the seals noticed that I was taking pictures and made the funniest faces for my sake, while previously she would just swim around and never stopped for long. While I was leaving she looked at me in the eyes, then I was sure she knew… But the most powerful experience was at the gorilla house. One of them, when he saw groups of kids walking by he would angrily hit the glass with both arms like saying “back off”! He did that a number of times obviously pissed off at the human presence… There was this big gorilla though, whose gaze was so human, it kicked my ass. He was like the elder of the tribe who knows that the future is dark, understands the humiliation of his kind and knows he cannot do anything about it. He sat in a corner while I videotaped him. He had this annoyed look but was still posing for it. I’ve seen him do this before, but he will look you in the eyes while he does it. He wants you to know that he is aware… He came closer to check me out. I looked him in the eyes too, not through the camera lens. I wanted him to know I knew too… Then a bunch of kids came and started screaming and making fun of him. He looked at every one of them pissed off, and then looked at me saying “do you see what I have to put up with?” After a while I left, went on looking at the other primates. For some reason I came back in his direction. He was at the same spot and nodded at me when he saw me. I was overwhelmed with rage over human arrogance… There are more stories that made me think and even laugh, like the sea lion who slapped his trainer’s ass continuously when he wanted more fish. Just a little reminder that he would not be bossed around just like that…. So, what about the two-legged animals that filled the zoo? The zoo was full of groups of children. Nothing against the fact itself. But for me a visit at the zoo should be a pilgrimage for all of us and we should teach this to our children. In a few years that may the last little piece of nature left. Instead, most adults find the zoo as an easy solution to spend a day with the children without having to put much effort into it. You just let them loose and they will entertain themselves. The result is big and smaller groups of screaming kids running around annoying the hell out of the animals. Not only that, they will even mock and humiliate some of them from the safe distance and protection that cages and glass walls give. Some throw stuff at the animals. I am waiting for the day that I will see adults accompanying their children solemnly and will explain to them that these are intelligent beings who are in extinction because of US! And that in return we imprisoned them to preserve a few of them in order to teach our children about what they missed out on. Because there was a time when there were still forests and steppes and open spaces where these animals could live but not anymore. That’s why we made these glass houses for them to keep them safe. These are their houses and we are allowed to come in a few hours a day to learn and pay respects to these awesome creatures and we have to do so respectfully, just like we would expect a guest to do at our house. Instead what I saw yesterday was a bunch of spoiled kids who think that they are the center of the universe and that they can do whatever they want. Parents today must feel guilty for the world they delivered to their kids, for the fact that they have to grow up caged themselves, because the world is too dangerous and too filthy for them to play outside so they compensate by letting them do whatever they want in their confinement. They don’t teach them respect, on the one hand because they don’t know the meaning of the word themselves and on the other because they think that their children are too stupid to understand… So the kids get the message that animals are stupid and not aware of their situation and that they are there for our entertainment. I dread the future that these kids will create when they become adults…. The whole time we were at the zoo I was having fantasies of a human zoo where animals would come to visit and mock US. That will be the day!

Street Artist

evgeniafotiou — Thu, 15 Jun 2006 13:51:44 GMT

A street artist painting Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart on the pavement in front of the Dom in Cologne - June 2006. A work of art that will last until the next rain....

Commencement Address

evgeniafotiou — Wed, 31 May 2006 14:00:17 GMT

It is graduation time at American colleges. Gary Olson, chair of poltical science at Moravian College, was voted by Moravian's Senior Class to give their commencement address. When I read it I was filled with hope about the future, because if there are colleges like this where students choose people like Olson to deliver speeches like this, then things can only get better! All it takes is more awareness by more people. This speech summarizes very well some of my views on education. So, if you want to see what I would like to accomplish by teaching anthropology in the future, here is the address as given at Moravian, May 13, 2006. -- Commencement 2006 Gary Olson (Note: Each year, Moravian College's senior class selects a faculty member to give the Commencement address. The following remarks were offered on May 13, 2006). President Rokke, Pam Rokke, honored guests, faculty colleagues, friends, parents, lovers of the graduates of all sorts, the folks who've cooked, cleaned and taken care of the graduates and their surroundings for four years, including preparing today's ceremony, and especially, Moravian's Class of 2006. A few of you might recall the last time I spoke at commencement my mother sent along some unsolicited advice, as mothers will do. I'll share just one line again because it's timeless. She wrote, "Gary, you might remind the graduates of your own mediocre undergraduate record. If you could make something of yourself, surely anyone can and that will give them confidence! Heed my mother's wisdom. Before proceeding with some brief observations, I want to acknowledge that the Class of 2006 has been blessed with a college president who's been a keen and steadfast advocate for unhampered discussion and free inquiry on this campus. I know that perhaps better than most because my presence on the faculty requires that he demonstrate that commitment on a regular basis. Pres. Rokke, as you retire today -- and I don't make a practice of this -- I salute you. Now, let me extend one final opportunity to defend academic freedom. As a faculty member I watch our freshly tasseled graduates stride across the stage each year and invariably ask myself: Have we satisfied our responsibility to these young people? It's my sense that colleges like Moravian are among the few remaining U.S. institutions where human relations aren't mediated through an impoverished bottom line "marketspeak ethos" where everything, including education, has been transformed and reduced to a commodity. We are a fragile sanctuary where students can critically ponder what should be the ends of society as opposed to college impersonators that merely train students in means to serve ends prescribed by others. We aspire to do what Howard Zinn, the magisterial American historian, describes when he writes that for many people, "There was a moment in our lives (or a month, or a year) when certain facts appeared before us, startled us, and then caused us to question beliefs that were strongly fixed in our consciousness - embedded there by years of family prejudice, orthodox schooling, imbibing of newspapers, radio and television." My conceit is that a few of these occasions, these moments of secular grace, have occurred here -- even in a classroom. And that these epiphanies have elongated into a moral clarity that you will draw upon later. It's my fervant hope, more than a firm conviction, that you've internalized three of these revelations: First, you're critical thinkers, skeptical citizens. As we said in the 60s, even vegetarians know that sacred cows make the best hamburger. Thanks to your liberal arts education you now possess what the late Neil Postman described as a "built-in crap detector. " You don't accept an idea as authoritative merely because it's been around a long time, someone important uttered it, or because someone feels it strongly. You submit received opinion to respectful but ruthless analysis. You demand evidence. Indeed, you know that doing anything less would be a sign of disrespect for the idea, for the person asserting it and for yourself. (1) You've read Noam Chomskey and you realize that "...citizens in a democratic society should undertake a course of intellectual self-defense to protect themselves from manipulation and control, and to lay the basis for more meaningful democracy." (2) For example, today you recognize the need for a doublespeak glossary to decipher the proliferating thought police euphemisms and oxymorans in circulation. Just a few of the buzzwords providing cover for abuses of official power abroad and the erosion of our democratic principles and civil liberties at home include: 1) The USA Patriot "Improvement" Act. Translation: One nation under surveillance. 2) Operation Iraqi Freedom. Translation: Somehow our oil got under their sand. 3) And my favorite environmental catch phrase: Healthy Forests. My decoder ring says: No tree left behind. While you search for your old copy of George Orwell's prophetic Nineteen Eighty-Four, you refuse to surrender your intellect to fear-mongering. Starved for someone to speak "truthiness" to power, you cheer on Steven Colbert as a satirical and righteous antitode.Of course, all this healthy skepticism makes you cantankerous, difficult citizens to govern. But doesn't our democracy desparately need more difficult citizens? Second, you're cosmopolitan, no longer ethnocentric. You don't judge other cultures as wanting because they differ from your own. You've acquired this perspective from many sources: From exposure to our magnificent choir's stirring world music at Vespers to studying post-colonial literature and religions of India on campus, to gaining an appreciation for ecology in Peru's upper Amazon with Prof. Bevington and observing the European Union up close in Brussels with Prof. Lalande. You celebrate different cultures but you know that a "traditional culture defense" can't justify crimes against humanity. Of course, Muslims shouldn't be made scapegoats for terrorism and Islamophobia is unconscionable bigotry. But neither should misogyny, honor crimes, battered wives, and barbarism be rationalized through a patriarchial rendering of the Koran or any other text. Likewise, you're aware that our own society is hardly immune to religious extremism. It ranges from the fundamentalist Puritanism complicit in the genocide of indigenous peoples of North America to today's "theocrat wanabees" in Washington. These guys believe they're reading God's blog each morning. And guess what? It conveniently corresponds to their dreams of global domination. Third, you're more compassionate. You realize that claims to be neutral in this world usually means siding with the oppressor. As South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu states it, "If you are in a situation where an elephant is sitting on the tail of a mouse and you say, 'Oh no, no, no. I am neutral,' the mouse is not going to appreciate your neutrality." (3) And when your own government or its proxies trample on human rights, especially then, your sense of compassionate world citizenship easily trumps pious recitations of knee-jerk nationalism. Because you don't suffer from moral amnesia you know that war is terrorism, with a bigger budget. You grasp that a cynical Social Darwinist "survival of the fittest" reading of human nature is routinely invoked to rationalize power and privilege. And you're now willing to entertain the proposition that differnt socioeconomic arrangements can offer an auspicious setting for other human capacities to flourish, including empathy, compassion, social solidarity, and dare I suggest...love. You know, as Erich Fromm asserted, that love is the only rational answer to the problem of human existence. (4) And you want this loving attitude to flourish because you're internationalists. You have a special connection to this country but you embrace your sisters and brothers around the globe because your liberal arts education has put you in closer touch with these different members of the same human family. Well, have I answered my question about meeting our faculty responsibilities? To be consistent, I suppose we must await the evidence. We hope you're more critical, more cosmopolitan, and more compassionate. Please also understand that committed teachers care about the world, in part, because they care so deeply about you, you who are about to make your own way in that world. I began with a few words from my mother and I conclude with a few verses from another senior citizen, Bob Dylan: May you build a ladder to the stars And climb on every rung, May you stay forever young. May your feet always be swift May you have a strong foundation When the the winds of changes shift, May your heart always be joyful, May your song always be sung, May you stay forever young. On behalf of your proud teachers, know that we desire long, safe, productive, and passionate lives for you. And know that today you have my deepest gratitude for inviting me to experience my own deeply treasured moment of grace. Thank you. (Gary Olson chairs the Political Science Department at Moravian College, Bethlehem, PA. contact:olson@moravian.edu) _____________________ 1) See Richard Dawkins, A Devil's Chaplain (New York: Houghton-Mifflin, 2003), Chapter 7. 2) Noam Chomsky, Necessary Illusions: Thought Control in Democratic Societies (Boston: 1989), p.1. 3) As quoted in Robert Jensen, "The Myth of the Neutral Professional." (unpublished paper, n.d.) 4) Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving (New York: Perennial Library Edition, 1974),p.111.

Poetry - Jacques Prévert (1900-1977)

evgeniafotiou — Thu, 25 May 2006 19:30:44 GMT

Jacques Prévert was a French poet and screenwriter who was born on February 4, 1900 in Neuilly-sur-Seine and died on April 11, 1977 in Omonville-la-Petite. Jacques Prévert grew up in Paris where he was bored by school. He often went to theater with his father, a drama critic, and acquired a love of reading from his mother. After receiving his Certificat d'études attesting to his having completed his primary eduacation, he quit school and went to work in Le Bon Marché department store in Paris. He then was called up for military service in 1918 and after the War was sent to the Near East. Prévert participated actively in the surrealism movement and was a member of the rue du Château group along with Raymond Queneau and Marcel Duhamel, although Prévert was really too much of a free spirit to be a member of any group. ALICANTE An orange on the table Your dress on the rug And you in my bed Sweet gift of the present Freshness of the night Warmth of my life THIS LOVE This love So violent So fragile So tender So hopeless This love As beautiful as the day And as wretched as the weather When the weather is wretched This love So real This love So beautiful So happy So joyous And so ridiculous Trembling with fear Like a child in the dark And so sure of itself Like a tranquil man in the quiet of the night This love Which made others afraid Which made them gossip Which drained the colour from their cheeks This love Watched for Because we watched for them Snared, wounded, trampled, finished, denied, forgotten Because we snared, wounded, trampled, finished, denied, forgot it This love Entire Still so alive Shining This is yours This is mine This love Which is always new And which never changes Real like a plant Quivering like a bird Warm and as alive as the summer We can both Go and come back We can forget And fall asleep And wake up To suffer old age Fall asleep again To dream to death Awake To smile and laugh Young again Our love endures Obstinate as a mule As alive as the desire As cruel as the memory As stupid as the regret As tender as the memory As cold as marble As beautiful as the day As delicate as an infant It watches us Smiling And speaks to us Without saying a word And I I listen to it Trembling And I cry I cry for you I cry for myself And I beg you For yourself For me And for all those who love And who are loved Yes I cry to it For you For me And for all the others I do not know Stay there There where you are There where you were before Stay there Don't move Don't go away We who are loved We have forgotten you Do not forget us We had only you on this earth Do not let us grow cold Further and further away every day It doesn't matter where Give us a sign of life In a nook in the woods In the forest of memory Suddenly arise Take us by the hand And save us SONG What day are we? We are every day My friend We're the whole of life My love We love and we live We live and we love And we don't really know What life is And we don't really know What the day is And we don't really know What love is BREAKFAST He poured the coffee Into the cup He poured the milk Into the cup of coffee He added the sugar To the coffee and milk He stirred it With a teaspoon He drank the coffee And put back the cup Without speaking to me He lit a cigarette He blew some rings With the smoke He flicked the ashes Into the ashtray Without speaking to me Without looking at me He got up He put his hat On his head He put on His raincoat Because it was raining He went out Into the rain Without a word Without looking at me And I I took my head In my hands And I wept FAMILY LIFE (1) The mother knits The son goes to the war She finds this quite natural, the mother And the father? What does the father do? He has his business His wife knits His son goes to the war He has his business He finds this quite natural, the father And the son And the son What does the son find? He finds absolutely nothing, the son The son: his mother does her knitting, His father has his business And he has the war When the war is over He'll go into business with his father The war continues The mother continues knitting The father continues with his business The son is killed He doesn't continue The father and mother visit the graveyard They find this natural The father and the mother Life goes on A life of knitting, war, business Business, war, knitting, war Business, business, business Life with the graveyard FAMILY LIFE (2) The Mum knits The kid goes off to the war It seems kind of normal, to the Mum And the Dad? What's the Dad up to? He's got his job His old lady's got her knitting His kid's gone off to the war He's got his job It seems kind of normal, to the Dad And the kid? What about the kid? What does he make of it all? Sweet fuck all His old woman's got her knitting His old man's got his job And he's got the fucking war And when the war's over He'll get a job Like his old man Anyhow the war goes on His old woman goes on with her knitting His old man goes on with his job He gets his fucking brains blown out He doesn't go on He goes under The Mum and Dad Go visit the grave Which seems kind of normal To the Mum and Dad And life goes on A life of knitting, the war, the job War, knitting, war Job, job, job Life in a bloody graveyard IMMENSE AND RED Immense and red Above the Grand Palais The winter sun appears And disappears Like it my heart will disappear And all my blood will go Go look for you My love My beauty And find you There where you are THE GARDEN Thousands and thousands of years Would not be enough To tell of That small second of eternity When you held me When I held you One morning In winter's light In Montsouris Park In Paris On earth This earth That is a star FOR YOU MY LOVE I went to the market, where they sell birds and I bought some birds for you my love I went to the market, where they sell flowers and I bought some flowers for you my love I went to the market, where they sell chains and I bought some chains heavy chains for you my love And then I went to the slave market and I looked for you but I did not find you there my love FIRST DAY White sheets in a closet Red sheets on a bed A child in its mother The mother in agony The father in the hallway The hallway in the house The house in the town The town in the night Death in a cry And the child in life THE WONDERS OF LIFE In the teeth of a trap The paw of a white fox And on the snow, blood The blood of the white fox And in the snow, tracks The tracks of the white fox Who escaped on three legs As the sun was setting A rabbit between his teeth Still alive IT'S LIKE THAT A sailor has left the sea his ship has left the port the king has left the queen and a miser has left his gold it's like that A widow has left her grief a crazy woman has left the madhouse and your smile has left my lips it's like that You will leave me you will leave me you will leave me you will come back to me you will marry me you will marry me The knife marries the wound the rainbow marries the rain the smile marries the tears the caress marries the frown it's like that And fire marries ice and death marries life and life marries love You will marry me you will marry me you will marry me HYDE PARK Like the sea that tumbles on the sand here the lovers act as seems good to them And nobody asks if it's for the night or just a while nobody talks of the price of this room of live green velvet Hyde and Jeckyll Park public Eden where one hears night and day whispered "the Devil save the Dream!"

Greek Poetry - Constantine Cavafy (1863 - 1933)

evgeniafotiou — Thu, 25 May 2006 18:54:53 GMT

Here's a short biographical note by the poet himself: I am from Constantinople by descent, but I was born in Alexandria -- at a house on Seriph Street; I left very young, and spent much of my childhood in England. Subsequently I visited this country as an adult, but for a short period of time. I have also lived in France. During my adolescence I lived over two years in Constantinople. It has been many years since I last visited Greece. My last employment was as a clerk at a government office under the Ministry of Public Works of Egypt. I know English, French, and a little Italian. AS MUCH AS YOU CAN And if you can't shape your life the way you want, at least try as much as you can not to degrade it by too much contact with the world, by too much activity and talk. Try not to degrade it by dragging it along, taking it around and exposing it so often to the daily silliness of social events and parties, until it comes to seem a boring hanger-on. C. Cavafy, 1913 Translation by E. Keeley and P. Sherrard WALLS Without consideration, without pity, without shame they have built great and high walls around me. And now I sit here and despair. I think of nothing else: this fate gnaws at my mind; for I had many things to do outside. Ah why did I not pay attention when they were building the walls. But I never heard any noise or sound of builders. Imperceptibly they shut me from the outside world. Constantine P. Cavafy (1896) INTERRUPTION We interrupt the work of the gods, hasty and inexperienced beings of the moment. In the palaces of Eleusis and Phthia Demeter and Thetis start good works amid high flames and dense smoke. But always Metaneira rushes from the king's chambers, disheveled and scared, and always Peleus is fearful and interferes. Constantine P. Cavafy (1901) THE WINDOWS In these darkened rooms, where I spend oppresive days, I pace to and fro to find the windows. -- When a window opens, it will be a consolation. -- But the windows cannot be found, or I cannot find them. And maybe it is best that I do not find them. Maybe the light will be a new tyranny. Who knows what new things it will reveal. Constantine P. Cavafy (1903) WAITING FOR THE BARBARIANS What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum? The barbarians are to arrive today. Why such inaction in the Senate? Why do the Senators sit and pass no laws? Because the barbarians are to arrive today. What laws can the Senators pass any more? When the barbarians come they will make the laws. Why did our emperor wake up so early, and sits at the greatest gate of the city, on the throne, solemn, wearing the crown? Because the barbarians are to arrive today. And the emperor waits to receive their chief. Indeed he has prepared to give him a scroll. Therein he inscribed many titles and names of honor. Why have our two consuls and the praetors come out today in their red, embroidered togas; why do they wear amethyst-studded bracelets, and rings with brilliant, glittering emeralds; why are they carrying costly canes today, wonderfully carved with silver and gold? Because the barbarians are to arrive today, and such things dazzle the barbarians. Why don't the worthy orators come as always to make their speeches, to have their say? Because the barbarians are to arrive today; and they get bored with eloquence and orations. Why all of a sudden this unrest and confusion. (How solemn the faces have become). Why are the streets and squares clearing quickly, and all return to their homes, so deep in thought? Because night is here but the barbarians have not come. And some people arrived from the borders, and said that there are no longer any barbarians. And now what shall become of us without any barbarians? Those people were some kind of solution. Constantine P. Cavafy (1904) MONOTONY One monotonous day is followed by another monotonous, identical day. The same things will happen, they will happen again -- the same moments find us and leave us. A month passes and ushers in another month. One easily guesses the coming events; they are the boring ones of yesterday. And the morrow ends up not resembling a morrow anymore. Constantine P. Cavafy (1908) THE CITY You said, "I will go to another land, I will go to another sea. Another city will be found, better than this. Every effort of mine is condemned by fate; and my heart is -- like a corpse -- buried. How long in this wasteland will my mind remain. Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look I see the black ruins of my life here, where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted." New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas. The city will follow you. You will roam the same streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods; in these same houses you will grow gray. Always you will arrive in this city. To another land -- do not hope -- there is no ship for you, there is no road. As you have ruined your life here in this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world. Constantine P. Cavafy (1910) FINALITIES Amid fear and suspicions, with agitated mind and frightened eyes, we melt and plan how to act to avoid the certain danger that so horribly threatens us. And yet we err, this was not in our paths; the messages were false (or we did not hear, or fully understand them). Another catastrophe, one we never imagined, sudden, precipitous, falls upon us, and unprepared -- there is no more time -- carries us off. Constantine P. Cavafy (1911) ITHACA When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them: You will never find such as these on your path, if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine emotion touches your spirit and your body. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter, if you do not carry them within your soul, if your soul does not set them up before you. Pray that the road is long. That the summer mornings are many, when, with such pleasure, with such joy you will enter ports seen for the first time; stop at Phoenician markets, and purchase fine merchandise, mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony, and sensual perfumes of all kinds, as many sensual perfumes as you can; visit many Egyptian cities, to learn and learn from scholars. Always keep Ithaca in your mind. To arrive there is your ultimate goal. But do not hurry the voyage at all. It is better to let it last for many years; and to anchor at the island when you are old, rich with all you have gained on the way, not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches. Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage. Without her you would have never set out on the road. She has nothing more to give you. And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you. Wise as you have become, with so much experience, you must already have understood what Ithacas mean. Constantine P. Cavafy (1911) ACCORDING TO THE FORMULAS OF ANCIENT GRECOSYRIAN MAGI "What distillate can be discovered from herbs of a witching brew," said an aesthete, "what distillate prepared according to the formulas of ancient Grecosyrian magi which for a day (if no longer its potency can last), or even for a short time can bring my twenty three years to me again; can bring my friend of twenty two to me again -- his beauty, his love. "What distillate prepared according to the formulas of ancient Grecosyrian magi which, in bringing back these things, can also bring back our little room." Constantine P. Cavafy (1931)

Greek Poetry - Katerina Gogou (1940-1993)

evgeniafotiou — Sat, 13 May 2006 22:24:45 GMT

A poem by Katerina Gogou What I fear most is becoming "a poet"... Locking myself in the room gazing at the sea and forgetting... I fear that the stitches over my veins might heal and, instead of having blur memories about TV news, I take to scribbling papers and selling "my views"... I fear that those who stepped over us might accept me so that they can use me. I fear that my screams might become a murmur so that to serve putting my people to sleep. I fear that I might learn to use meter and rhythm and thus I will be trapped within them longing for my verses to become popular songs. I fear that I might buy binoculars in order to bring closer the sabotage actions in which I won't be participating. I fear getting tired - an easy prey for priests and academics - and so turn into a "sissy"... They have their ways ... They can utilize the routine in which you get used to, they have turned us into dogs: they see to us being ashamed for not working... they see to us being proud for being unemployed... That's how it is. Keen psychiatrists and lousy policemen are waiting for us in the corner. Marx... I am afraid of him... My mind walks past him as well... Those bastards...they are to blame... I cannot -fuck it- even finish this writing... Maybe...eh?...maybe some other day... Translated by G.Chalkiadakis. Katerina Gogou: "May 25th" One morning I will open the door and I will go out in the streets as I did yesterday. And I won't be thinking about anything other than just one piece of the father and one piece of the sea -those two pieces they didn't deprive me of- and the city. The city which they transformed into a rotting corpse. And our friends that are no more. One morning I will open the door straight into the fire and I will enter as I did yesterday shouting "fascists!!" constructing barricades and throwing rocks with a red banner held high, shining in the sunbeams. I will open the door and it's time to tell you -not that I am afraid- but, see, I want to tell you that I didn't make it in time and that you have to learn not to be going out in the streets without weapons as I did -because I didn't make it in time- because then you will disappear as I disappeared "like that" "in the void" cracked into little pieces made of sea, childhood years and red banners. One morning I will open the door and I will be gone carrying the dream of the revolution within the infinite loneliness of the paper-made barricades bearing the label -do not believe them!- "Provocator". Translated by G.Chalkiadakis.

Distribute this flyer (or don't)

evgeniafotiou — Sat, 13 May 2006 16:01:23 GMT

[found this adorning the University Community bulletin board ] [at the Computer Center (not BBS, the kind of bulletin board ] [you stick pins in even when you aren't pissed off at the ] [Bulletin Board) at the Computer Center. ] BRAINLESS STUDENTS INVADE LAWRENCE -- IS THERE HOPE? So here you are at a real university and everything! You're driving mommy's car and living in a dorm, or maybe even out on your own in a house with forty of your closest friends. Now you'll go to class and find out new things to enhance your budding career, and if you're lucky, you might forget enough of your bland rich whitebread suburban existence to learn how to become a real human being, and not just some pink new ager who pretends to care because it's fashionable to send money to Greenpeace (with daddy's check). You're not trendy and superficial like all the people you hang out with because *you're* different. You're radical, with new ideas that will shake up *everybody at the party*. And if you can learn to drive more than three blocks without a beer in your hand, you *might not* kill anyone this year. And by God, you *don't* have to read this! It's *disturbing* and *offensive* and *maybe that's because it hits home!* Maybe there's *just enough* substance left in your personality that you might still get out from under the herd mentality that will eventually lead you along with all the others into that traincar bound for the Ministry of Normalcy if you're not careful. Nobody will do it for you, and that last, frantic, dying shriek of your soul going under will be the only sign that you have made the transition into the peaceful netherworld of blind apathy that is so lucrative these days. So, while you're here at our wonderful college, paid for so generously *by your parents*, be proud of your status as a mature, intellectual adult. Whether you choose to toss your brain into the garbage or not is up to you, but either way, there is a distinct probability that you will become a career-oriented Yuppie, spoon-fed the corporate dogma of our upwardly-mobile society. *Take the blinders off while you still can*. That's right, you *don't* have to take this shit, this impetuous insult to your lifestyle, and no, I *don't* care who you are or what your parents do for a living or how much money they make, because I'm here to tell you if you *don't* take this shit, if you don't listen to the voice of reason while there's still time, you're going to be caged in with all the rest of the brainless twits *and there won't be anything you can do about it*. Bleach your _mind_, not your hair! And who cares if you drive a BMW, as long as you're not listening to the mainstream barrage of *Polycratic Bulldada* that works it's way by osmosis from the radio into your skull. That kind of brainwashing works *so well* that you not only know about it, *but think you're avoiding it*, while the whole time it's gradually working its sapping, rotting power on your forebrain, the effects of which are *irreversible*. While you're going to school, the most important thing you learn may be to question everything, *even this*, but especially authority. Do not let those who have been arbitrarily placed in a position of power make your decisions! Recognize those of TRUE intellectual status and *surround yourself with them*. They are your only hope against the //evil elder creatures// in disguise who *at this moment vie for control over our lives*. Those who run things today are all but lost, but those who will control things tomorrow still have hope, and *we are the tomorrow people*! Unless you fight the relentless attack on your psyche, repel those who subtly try to *break down the doors into your mind*, you will die a silent death, drowning in a pool of apathy, only to be replaced by a Conspiracy clone, and *no one will be able to tell the difference*. There might not be one. Chew on this for awhile, think about it, dwell on it, until you discover your own way out. *Wake up and smell the sodium pentathol*! Find out just what it is that They don't want you to worry about. Walk the road of life not with paranoia, but with confident suspicion, screening all input from all sources. Take nothing at face value. Think for yourself, or They will do your thinking for you. Bob Dole is a *Conspiracy dupe* who gets paid *more than you think* not to spout gibberish, but to lead the majority into a popular mindset, thus making them easier to control. When choosing classes, drop the *useless shit* like Business, and take... Philosophy. The modern philosophers were there when all this started happening, they knew how to escape, and *they did*. And they left instructions, so that *we can all do the same*. The time is now, and it will be over sooner than you think. Those who come out on top win all the marbles, and if it's the Conspiracy, our planet will become the biggest smoothie in history. Girls, don't let yourselves become *Blondroids*, the mindless common stock of our genetically decrepit race. Guys, don't fit neatly into your ascribed macho, sexist, subjugating roles...but then again, don't be *too* PC, either. Too many of us are too close to victory, only to fall into that baited trap called *complacency. *They* outnumber us, but they can be defeated, so band together and *win*. Remember, all intellectual barbarians come out ahead. They are trying to breed us as a race of pacified idiot zombies, *and it's working*. Abuse your mind if you must, but *please* use it. It's your only chance. Armageddon doesn't play favorites. When that day finally rolls around, those who have assumed their places in line, as they were told to do, will walk through the doorway of apathy -- into oblivion. ANCIENT ILLUMINATED SEARS AND ROEBUCK CATALOGUE #23-666 ALL HAIL DISCORDIA FNORD. RECIRCULATE THIS FLYER. found on alt.discordia

Greek Poetry - Nikos Kavvadias (1910-1975)

evgeniafotiou — Sat, 13 May 2006 15:56:47 GMT

Nikos Kavvadias was born in 1910 in a small town in Manchuria near Harbin, by Greek parents from Cefallonia. When he was very young, his family returned to Greece. They lived in Cefallonia for a few years and later from 1921 to 1932 in Pireas, where Nikos Kavvadias finished elementary school and then the Gymnasium. He wrote his first poems as a pupil at the elementary school. In 1929, he started working as a clerk in a shipping office and a few months later he went on board a freighter as a sailor. Over the next few years he continued to travel on the freighters, returning home wretched and penniless, only to take off again shortly after. This went on until he decided to get a diploma as a wireless operator. At first he wanted to become a captain, but he had already lost too many years wandering around and the wireless operator's diploma was the quicket way out. He got it in 1939 -- but World War II started, he became a soldier and fought in Albania, and, throughout the German Occupation he lived in Athens, landed. He embarked again in 1944 and travelled continuously, as a wireless operator, all over the world, until November 1974 -- three months before the fatal stroke he suffered on February 10, 1975. Vardia, his only novel, was published for the first time in 1954. His collection of poems Marabou was published in 1933, Pousi in 1947, and Traverso in 1975. His short stories Li and Of the War/On my Horse were published in 1987. "Li" was produced as a film in 1995 with the title "Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea". A DAGGER (Ena Machairi) I always carry tightly under my belt a small african steel dagger -- like those that blacks are used to playing with -- that I bought from an old merchant in Algiers. I remember, as if it were now, the old shopkeeper, who looked like an old oil painting by Goya, standing next to long swords and tattered uniforms, saying in a hoarse voice the following words : "This here dagger that you want to buy legend has surrounded with eery stories, and everyone knows that those who owned it at some time, each has murdered one close to him. Don Basilio murdered Donna Julia with it, his beautiful wife, because she was unfaithful. Conte Antonio, one night, his wretched brother was slyly murdering with this here dagger. A black his young lover out of jealousy and some Italian sailor a Greek boatswain. From hand to hand it passed and into mine. Many things my eyes have seen, but this one makes me quiver. Come close and look at it, it has an anchor and a crest, it's light, why take it, it's not even a quarter, but I would advise you to buy something else." -- How much? -- Seven francs only. As long as you want it, take it. A small dagger I have tightly in my belt, that a whim made me make it my own; and because I hate no one in the world to kill, I am afraid lest some day I turn it against myself ... FOG (Pousi) The fog fell with the evening -- the lightship lost -- and you arrived unexpected in the pilot-house to see me. You are wearing all white and you're wet, I'm plaiting your hair into ropes. Down in the waters of Port Pegassu It always rains this season. The stoker is watching us with both feet in the chains. Never look at the antennas in a storm; you'll get dizzy. The boatswain curses the weather and Tokopilla is so far away. Rather than fearing and waiting better at the periscope and the torpedo. Go! You deserve firm land. You came to see me and yet see me you didn't I have since midnight drowned a thousand miles beyond the Hebrides. SOUTHERN CROSS (Stavros Tou Notou) In the nor-wester the waves boiled; we were both bent over the map. You turned and told me how in March you'd be in other latitudes. A Chinese tatoo drawn on your chest; however you burn it, it won't come off. They said that you had loved her once in a sudden fit of blackest fever. Keeping watch by a barren cape and the Southern Cross behind the braces. You're holding coral worry-beads and chewing bitter coffee beans. I took a line on Alpha Centaurus with the azimuth compass one night at sea. You told me in a deathly voice: "Beware of the stars of Southern skies". Another time from that same sky you took lessosn for three whole months with the captain's mulatto girl in how to navigate at night. In some shopin Nosy Be you bought the knife - two shillings it cost - right on the equator, exactly at noon; it glittered like a lighthouse beam. Down on the shores of Africa for some years now you've been asleep. You don't remember the lighthouse now or the delicious Sunday sweet. KURO SIWO That first trip - a southern freight, by chance - no sleep, malaria, difficult watches. Strangely deceptive, the lights of the Indies - they say you don't see them at a first glance. Beyond Adam's bridge, you took on freight in South China - soya, sacks by the thousand, and couldn't get out of your mind for a second what they'd told you in Athens one wasted night. The tar gets under your nails, and burns; the fish-oil stinks on your clothes for years, and her words keep ringing still in your ears: "Is it the ship or the compass that turns?" You altered course when the weather turned, but the sea bore a grudge and exacted its cost. Tonight my two caged parrots were lost, and the ape I'd had such trouble to train. The ship! - it wipes out all our chances. The Kuro Siwo crushed us under its heel, but you're still watching, over the wheel, how, point by point, the compass dances. MAL DU DEPART Always the perfect, unworthy lover of the endless voyage and azure ocean, I shall die one evening, like any other, without having crossed the dim horizon. For Madras, Singapore, Algeria, Sfax, the proud ships will still be setting sail, but I shall bend over a chart-covered desk and look in the ledger, and make out a bill. I'll give up talking about long journeys, My friends will think I've forgotten at last; my mother will be delighted: she'll say "A young man's fancy, but now it's passed." But one night my soul will rise up before me, and ask, like some grim executioner, "Why?" This unworthy trembling hand will take arms and fearlessly strike where the blame must lie. And I, who longed to be buried one day in some deep sea of the distant Indies shall come to a dull and common death; shall go to a grave like the graves of so many. A BORD DE L'"ASPASIA" Hunted by fate, you travelled towards Switzerland, the pure-white but grieving; always oon deck, in a chaise-longue, skin yellow foor that dreadful but all too well-known reason. Your people uneasily fussed around you; indifferent, you gazed out to sea. All they said raised only a bitter laugh, for you knew your journey would lead to the land of the dead. One evening, as we were passing Stromboli, you turned to someone, laughing, to speak: "How my sick body, here, as it burns, is like that volcano's flaming peak!" Later I saw you in Marseilles, lost, without looking back, as you left. And I, who loved only the watery waste - you were someone I could have loved. Info from: http://www.smiley.cy.net/tsymeo/poetry-c.htm

Discordian Test

evgeniafotiou — Wed, 03 May 2006 00:59:12 GMT

Take this test! The Discordian Test http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=2053668536707769491 I took it and scored 75. Post your score here! High Priest/ess You scored 75. You have passed three degrees of 23, the magick number 69, Discordian. As Pope I initiate you into the Fourth Degree of the PARATHEO-ANAMETAMYSTIKHOOD OF ERIS ESOTERIC, or POEE. Henceforth, you shall be addressed as a High Priest/ess, until such time as you get your Shit Together and graduate to the Next Degree.

FNORD

evgeniafotiou — Wed, 03 May 2006 00:55:43 GMT

Fnord? Fnord is evaporated herbal tea without the herbs. Fnord is that funny feeling you get when you reach for the Snickers bar and come back holding a slurpee. Fnord is the 43 1/3rd state, next to Wyoming. Fnord is this really, really tall mountain. Fnord is the reason boxes of condoms carry twelve instead of ten. Fnord is the blue stripes in the road that never get painted. Fnord is place where those socks vanish off to in the laundry. Fnord is an arcade game like Pacman without the little dots. Fnord is a little pufflike cloud you see at 5pm. Fnord is the tool the dentist uses on unruly patients. Fnord is the blank paper that cassette labels are printed on. Fnord is where the buses hide at night. Fnord is the empty pages at the end of the book. Fnord is the screw that falls from the car for no reason. Fnord is why Burger King uses paper instead of foam. Fnord is the little green pebble in your shoe. Fnord is the orange print in the yellow pages. Fnord is a pickle without the bumps. Fnord is why ducks eat trees. Fnord is toast without bread. Fnord is a venetian blind without the slats. Fnord is the lint in the navel of the mites that eat the lint in the navel of the mites that eat the lint in Fnord's navel. Fnord is an apostrophe on drugs. Fnord is the bucket where they keep the unused serifs for H*lvetica. Fnord is the gunk that sticks to the inside of your car's fenders. Fnord is the source of all the zero bits in your computer. Fnord is the echo of silence. Fnord is the parsley on the plate of life. Fnord is the sales tax on happiness. Fnord is the preposition at the end of sixpence. Fnord is the feeling in your brain when you hold your breath too long. Fnord is the reason latent homosexuals stay latent. Fnord is the donut hole. Fnord is the whole donut. Fnord is an annoying series of email messages. Fnord is the color only blind people can see. Fnord is the serial number on a box of cereal. Fnord is the Universe with decreasing entropy. Fnord is a naked woman with herpes simplex 428. Fnord is the yin without yang. Fnord is a pyrotumescent retrograde onyx obelisk. Fnord is why lisp has so many parentheses. Fnord is the the four-leaf clover with a missing leaf. Fnord is double-jointed and has a cubic spline. Fnord never sleeps. Fnord is the "een" in baleen whale. Fnord is neither a particle nor a wave. Fnord is the space in between the pixels on your screen. Fnord is the guy that writes the Infiniti ads. Fnord is the nut in peanut butter and jelly. Fnord is an antebellum flagellum fella. Fnord is a sentient vacuum cleaner. Fnord is the smallest number greater than zero. Fnord lives in the empty space above a decimal point. Fnord is the odd-colored scale on a dragon's back. Fnord is the redundant coin slot on arcade games. Fnord was last seen in Omaha, Nebraska. Fnord is the founding father of the phrase "founding father". Fnord is the last bit of sand you can't get out of your shoe. Fnord is Jesus's speech advisor. Fnord keeps a spare eyebrow in his pocket. Fnord invented the green hubcap. Fnord is why doctors ask you to cough. Fnord is the "ooo" in varooom of race cars. Fnord uses two bathtubs at once. I cannot escape them No matter how I try They wait for me everywhere I cannot pass them by. Driving down the street I see "Jesus Is Lord" And then immediately after I hear the word "FNORD!" Innocuous sayings and parables And on the evening news I hear the word "FNORD!" And suddenly I'm confused I sit alone in my room And I'm feeling rather bored I turn on the tube and guess what I hear the word "FNORD!" "Don't see the fnords and they won't eat you" That's what I've heard the wisemen say But I can't get away from those beasties There's just no fucking way. I believe I found these on alt.discordia buxton@uiuc.edu

Events that happened on my birthday

evgeniafotiou — Wed, 03 May 2006 00:51:11 GMT

Here's some events that happened on the date of my birthday - February 11th. I fished them off Wikipedia: 1902 - Police assault universal suffrage demonstrators in Brussels. 1916 - Emma Goldman arrested for lecturing on birth control. 1937 - A sit-down strike ends when General Motors recognizes the United Auto Workers Union. 1964 - Greeks and Turks begin fighting in Limassol, Cyprus. 1978 - Censorship: China lifts a ban on works by Aristotle, Shakespeare and Dickens. 1990 - Nelson Mandela, a political prisoner for 27 years, is freed from Victor Verster prison outside Cape Town, South Africa. 1999 - Pluto, a planet with an irregular orbit, changes from the eighth to ninth planet furthest from the sun. It had been the eighth furthest since 1979. 2006 - Michelle Bachelet inaugurated as first woman president of Chile. 1963 - death of Sylvia Plath, American writer (b. 1932)