Category Archives: books & writers

The worse of Britain

One big reason why I’m on my way outta here…, again…, never, ever, ever to return … for longer than a few days…, go on, a week max…

The reason? The BBC of course. Pathetic, apologetic, irrelevant finally.

Diary Entries Competition

Match the three diary extracts below to these three writers:

a) Fernando Pessoa
b) Bubba Tribunales
c) Krishnamurti

Correct answers by females win a night out with the authors of the diaries, if living. Correct answers by males get a free torrent download of their favorite pop song. Good luck!

1. Οι τεράστιες μάζες των ανθρώπων είναι πέρα για πέρα αδιάφορες για όλα αυτά – ‘ανθρωποι ανεύθυνοι που ψάχνουν να γεμίσουν τη δική τους εγωιστική ζωή εξευγενίζοντας τις επιθυμίες τους, αλλά παραμένοντας εγωιστές. (loosely translated by me and google-translate: The huge masses of people are completely indifferent to all this; irresponsible people looking to fill their own selfish life, by refining their desires, but remaining selfish.)

2. …so I did what the Danes do, I wrapped myself in the airplane style blanket and sipped my 5 euro coffee. Welcome to wonderful Kobenhavn. You WILL be happy! … on the SAS flight back to London, the screens were showing the pilots eye view! Yeah, that’s where the excitement ends, because NOTHING happens. No birds being squashed on the windshields, no aliens flying about, no juggling homeless angels cleaning the windows at the lights…

3. I experienced the pain of truth when I saw myself there, because, inevitably, it was my face I looked for first. I have never had a very high opinion of my physical appearance but never before have I felt such a nonentity as I did then, comparing myself with other faces, so familiar to me, in that line-up of my daily companions. I look like a rather dull Jesuit. My thin inexpressive face betrays no intelligence, no intensity, nothing whatever to make it stand out from the stagnant tide of the other faces. But they’re not a stagnant tide. There are some really expressive faces there. Senhor Vasques is exactly as he is in real life – the firm, likable face, the steady gaze, all set off by the stiff moustache. The energy and intelligence of the man – qualities which are after all utterly banal and to be found in thousands of other men all over the world – are stamped on that photograph as if it were a psychological passport. The two travelling salesmen look superb; the clerk has come out well but he’s half hidden behind Moreira. And Moreira! My immediate superior Moreira, the embodiment of monotony and routine, looks much more human than I do! Even the errand boy – I detect in myself, without being able to suppress it, a feeling that I hope is not envy – has a directness in his smile that far outshines the insignificant dullness of my face, of me, the sphinx of the stationery cupboard.

Fruit of the Year

And the winner is:

the cherimoya

Cherimoya cut in half

what Mark Twain called “the most delicious fruit known to men” and “deliciousness itself!”, according to the *free*-speech internet.

At number two we find a fruit that’s been in the top-ten list for 38 years:

the orange

end of blog.

Birthday Blog

Happy Birthday Spiro’s Blog!

To celebrate, here’s another great article by one of the few good men left.

I don’t even have enough time to read it all, since I need to catch my flight to Thessaloniki. But I trust John Pilger, although he has been slightly naive with regards to the global warming scam, so you can go ahead and safely publish it.

Many happy returns.

The editor.

Special Issue Ι – Άνοιξη (Spring)΄09

In this special issue of Spiro’s blog we have a very distinguished guest. At the time of writing we are unaware if the writer would like to be named or remain anonymous. In our rush to present to you the information as quickly as possible we present the original here, but be informed that we have given the text to our international desk for translation and it will appear shortly in English.

Στην Ελλάδα δεν έχει πια γυναίκες. Μόνο κάτι ασεξουαλικά όντα με βυζιά. Αλλά ούτε και άντρες έχει. Να λέμε όλη την αλήθεια. Αυτοί είναι οι παραγωγοί καταναλωτικών οικονομικών μονάδων. Κουβαλάνε κάτι σακουλάκια ανάμεσα στα πόδια και ένα σωληνάριο για εξαγωγή των περισσευούμενων υγρών. Μόνο εγώ έχω γκαύλες? Μόνο σ’ εμένα δεν αρέσουν τα διάφορα πορνό αλλά θέλω φρέσκια σάρκα? Ούτε φίλους θέλω. Μόνο συντρόφους. Για τον πόλεμο και την ειρήνη. Για την δημιουργία και την ηδονή. Αυτά τα garage που κατέβασα από το ινδερνέτι μ’ έχουν σώσει απ’ την πλήρη πνευματική κατάρρευση. Δόξα στα Peebles και στους ανώνυμους rockabilly hillbilly partabilly kai valta ekei pou xereis. Γίνομαι ανήθικος? Μπορεί. Δεν πήγα ****. Ήμουνα κλεισμένος σπίτι. Το μυαλό μου και τα άυλα παράγωγά του είναι σαν τα μακαρόνια. Τα βρασμένα. Όπου δε μπορείς να βγάλεις άκρη. Και για να μη βλέπεις το χάος, πασπαλίζεις θρυμματισμένο τυρί και μπόλικη σάλτσα. Όπου βέβαια και πάλι δεν είσαι σίγουρος για το τι περιέχει. Και τελικά για να βγεις από τον κόπο της προσπάθειας να καταλάβεις, πίνεις κρασάκι. Αθάνατο σπέρμα άγνωστου πλέον θεού. Και πάλι γκαυλώνεις! Μα που είναι η Αφροδίτη? Τι να πω? Βλέπω γυναίκες κατά τύχη ή όταν σκάω ένα κάρο λεφτά σ’ αυτά τα άθλια στέκια που λέγονται καφέ-μπαρ. Κι ακόμη προσπαθώ να βγάλω άκρη του τι μου συμβαίνει, τι θέλω – αν θέλω κάτι – γιατί η κυρία κοινωνία επιμένει πως πρέπει να θέλω κάτι, αλλιώς δεν είμαι φυσιολογικός. Κάτι πρέπει να κάνω αλλιώς θεωρούμε άπραγος – κι αυτό είναι κακό και επικίνδυνο για ολόκληρο το σύμπαν και τον κύκλο της ζωής. Γάμα τα. ακόμα δε ξέρω τίποτα. Εκτός απ’ το ότι έχω γκαύλες κι ότι ζω μια καθημερινότητα που δε μου λέει τίποτα.

Su amigo.

Águas de Julho

É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho
o pão de açucar, o cristo que foi mijar
é a opera do bubba é a vida é o sol
é uma lancha no rio, é uma ave no chão
é a mãe da super luiza é a julia é a luiza

é o chico buarque, o luiz melodia, o djavan e o vinicius
o penedo, o fio maravilha, açerola, e truta viva
uma trilha no mato, a bolsa de valores
um gringo chato, são as dores, são as flores
poa, itapemirim, galeto e samba
laura, carlão, sandalias melissa e guimba
rio de janeiro, flamenco, cariocas
cuia e chimarrão é um lanche na esquina

São o oscar niemeyer, o william e a susi
a ana e a lisa, a sofia e a julia
o maneca, a cally e a lancha na quaiba
são são paulo com transito, e sistema de transporte
junior e juliana, luca nano e melissa
tomas e priscilla andre e a dentista
a daiza e o osasco, a ponte la no morumbi
o irmão do evaldo, é a nação zumbi

o renatão e o artur, a angela e o mingo,
a isabella a giovanna, cizo, alcione e flavio
a alzira a alaide, a antonietta a mimi
centro cultural santander, caminho no parcão
e por favor nunca mais habib´s
é o brique e o acarajé, carlos, doug, adam e açai
é a gorda e a seca la no zaffari

é o sol no caixeiros viagantes, é a elis regina
é o chico buarque, é o chico é o chico
é uma ave no céu, uma ave no chão
a cachoeira de deus, uma borboleta na mão

a bethania, e os ramalhos, e um baile de funk, é o creu é o creu
é um coco gelado, saudade e saude
ronaldinho gaucho, é verdade é verdade
uma agua gelada, guarana, fanta da uva
caipirinha, cachaça, picanha e costelão
são tres corações de frango, chocolate do gramado
chocolate do penedo, jiu-jitsu, capoeira
é o menino vadio, a marizete e a jazz
embromation, enrrolation, bossa nova em cartaz
ecohostel, curitiba, fatima, tiago e vinicius
é muita cafeina, é a banda do marcus

é o verissimo no sebo, e umas artes da morte,
o djavan, o corinthians, o flamengo e a flu
uma banana na cachoeira, umas fotos tiradas
pão de queijo, mamão, e umas velhas piradas
um velhinho safado, acarajé no brique
pastel na feira, caldo de cana
a indra e a chirsten, debora, tim, jonathan
um cigarro avulso, uma skol ou polar
ciclovias na curitiba, uma itaipava no ar
são as aguas de março fechando o verão
é a promesa de vida no teu coração
é pau é pedra…

Buenos Aires, 11th June 2008

Before leaving London a friend gave me a travel journal. It’s really just a notebook that says “travel journal” on the front… (oh, bless… but she says she doesn’t have time to read my blog anyway), so I present to you, my dear readers, a slightly edited entry made in BA on 11/06/08…

Going to Uruguay today, to get an extra stamp on my passport. Not really. Don’t give a fuck about the stamp, but will be able to say I’ve been to Uruguay, también. Should send my Hungarian friend who lived in Uruguay for about a year when she was a teenager, and her Spanish husband a postcard… Manteca is butter, but apparently it’s lard in Spain. Mantequilla is butter in Spain. A helpful waitress said she spoke English, but when we asked her “what is manteca?”, fearing that we would get a pasta with lard, she said that manteca = bacon. She meant butter. They both start with a ‘b’. She’s a Boca Juniors fan. Walked down Rua Borges yesterday in Palermo, the most european looking part of BA yet. I find Borges books too difficult for me. Too much hard work. Maybe would be better in Spanish. You need to know too much about … stuff he talks about… to really understand him. One thing I’ve noticed and which further fuels my obssesion with toilet brushes, is the lack of them in BA. Not very pleasant. Another noticeable aspect of Buenos Aires is the amount of crazy people. Oh yeah, and the most beautiful eyes per capita… Could they be linked in any way? Crazy people have beautiful eyes?

… in this travel journal entry I also talk about the milonga’s we went to, which I’ve already written about, but I embarssingly mispelled as Milango’s… here… I should edit that page. I’ve got more to say on toilet brushes. In one place, I think a cafe, there was a toilet brush, but the handle was a stub, so tiny, that you were almost touching the hairs of the brush… and it looked wet and yellowish… I used it nonetheless… only kidding…

Bubba Tribunales makes his first appearance in this journal entry, with one line: “Bubba Tribunales, el viejo malo”. Never made it to Uruguay though. It was ridiculously expensive and apparently not really worth it. It cost around 200 pesos, just for the return boat trip to the town of Colonial, across the river Uruguay. With the same amount of pesos, you can go on a paragliding adventure day trip from Mendoza.