January 30, 2007
Αι ποντ
Σκοτεινή και παράξενη ετούτη η εποχή
Σιωπηλή μουσική, ηχηρή μοναξιά
Κάτι ακούγεται εδώ κάτι ακούγεται εκεί
Που με παίρνει και με πάει και δεν με βγάζει πουθενά
Σκοτεινή και παράξενη ετούτη η εποχή
Σιωπηλή μουσική, ηχηρή μοναξιά
Όχι, όχι δε βρίσκω δε βρίσκω άλλες λέξεις
Έτσι ωραία να ζωγραφίζουν την πολυσύχναστη ερημιά
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Και ως πότε τούτη η επίθεση και ως που θα μας βγάλει
Ακούω μόνο Αι ποντ
Τα φεγγάρια με τους μύθους συναντιόνται τις νύχτες
Σε γιορτές αδελφοσύνης ενός άλλου καιρού
Που ολοένα ξεμακραίνουν, ξεμακραίνει και πάλι
Για να γεννηθεί και πάλι στην φαντασία ενός παιδιού
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Και ως πότε τούτη η επίθεση και ως που θα μας βγάλει
Ακούω μόνο Αι ποντ
Μια φωνή που τη γνωρίζω κάθε βράδυ στα όνειρά μου
Παραιτήσου μου φωνάζει παραιτήσου από παντού
Είναι τα ίδια μου τα λόγια που επιστρέφουν σε μένα
Έτσι καθώς σου τραγουδάω με το σφυγμό ενός νεκρού
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Ωχ αμάν, αμάν
Και ως πότε τούτη η επίθεση και ως που θα μας βγάλει
Ακούω μόνο Αι ποντ
(Στίχοι μεταλλαγμένοι του Δήμου Μούτση για όσους δεν είχαν γεννηθεί το 83)
Posted by Basileios at 1:51 PM | Comments (2)
January 29, 2007
Σιγή Ασυρμάτου
Η σιγή ασυρμάτου οφείλεται απλώς στο γεγονός πως προσπαθώ να γράψω την κριτική για τον Against the Day, πράγμα διόλου εύκολο.
Σύντομα μαζί σας με ποικίλο πρόγραμμα.
Posted by Basileios at 3:11 PM | Comments (0)
January 22, 2007
Under the Stars
Posted by Basileios at 10:26 AM | Comments (1)
January 20, 2007
Τέλος...
Τελείωσα χτες το Against the Day. (Η εξέλιξη της ανάγνωσης και της σκέψης συνεχίζεται στο Against the Day blog).
Πως μπορεί να διαβάσει οτιδήποτε άλλο ύστερα από αυτό. Έκλεισα το βιβλίο και ανέπνευσα σαν να ήμουν βυθσιμένος στον πάτο της θάλασσας και ψάχνω για το οξυγόνο στην ανάδυσή μου. Δεν υπάρχουν πολλά βιβλία που μπορούν να μου το κάνουν αυτό.
Για άλλη μια φορά, ύστερα από το Gravity's Rainbow ο Pynchon με κατέστρεψε.
Posted by Basileios at 10:36 AM | Comments (3)
January 16, 2007
Vincent
Vincent Malloy is seven-years-old,
He's always polite and does what he's told,
For a boy his age, he's considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.
He doesn't mind living with his sister dog and cats,
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats,
There, he could reflect on the horrors he's invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.
Vincent is nice when his Aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.
He likes to experiment on his dog Abercrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie,
So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.
His thoughts though aren't always of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass some of the time,
While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent's favourite author is Edgar Allen Poe.
One night, while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale,
Such horrible news, he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive!
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flowerbed.
His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he'd been banished to the Tower Of Doom.
Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with the portrait of his beautiful wife.
All alone and insane, incased in his doom,
Vincent's mother burst suddenly into the room.
She said, "If you want to, you can go out and play"
"It's sunny outside, and a beautiful day."
Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn't speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak,
So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
"I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again."
His mother said, "You're not possessed, and you're not almost dead!"
"These games that you play are all in your head!"
"You're not Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy!"
"You're not tormented and insane, you're just a young boy!"
"You're seven-years-old and you are my son,"
"I want you to get outside and have some real fun."
Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
And while Vincent backed slowly against the wall,
The room started to sway, to shiver and creak,
His horrid insanity had reached it's peak!
He saw Abercrombie, his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave,
She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands,
While through crackly walls, reached skeleton hands.
Every horror in his life, that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laughter to terrified screams!
To escape the madness, he reached for the door,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.
His voice was soft and very slow,
As he quoted The Raven, from Edgar Allen Poe,
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted--Nevermore!"
A film by Tim Burton.
Posted by Basileios at 10:17 AM | Comments (2)
January 11, 2007
Ένα ευχαριστώ
Ένα ευχαριστώ σε όλο το προσωπικό του 2ου όροφου του Ροδουσάκειου στο Ασκληπιείο της Βούλας καθώς και στον γιατρό Ι. Φερούση για όλη την βοήθεια των τελευταίων 10 ημερών.
Posted by Basileios at 1:47 PM | Comments (5)
