Saturday, December 20, 2003
One day I will reffer to this time as the years before I met you - the years I worried about a hundred useless things, all of them meaning the same thing. I worry I'm not worth you.
Posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 02:31 pm GMT [Link] [Oh! Someone! ]
Thursday, December 11, 2003
For love, actually
It was a bit after five yesterday evening and me and my mum where walking down a central street in Athens, getting wet and discussing the prospect of going to the cinema on Friday, when she noticed we were walking past a cinema.
"Look! It's on in here. Let's go see it."
Now that's the sort of thing I'd expect from Rachel. I didn't really think my mum's that crazy.
"What time is it on?" she wanted to know.
I read the times on the poster out loud.
"Five twenty, eight something and eleven". Obviously it didn't say eight something but I can't remember what it said.
"And what's the time now?"
By that time I had started giggling, and I reached for my phone (I don't have a watch, since the dog chewed it and that must have been a ages ago because it's been a year since he run away, the hearltess little sod).
I couldn't believe it.
So I started giggling and we bought tickets and walked in and bought popcorn and sat down.
And so it happened that I watched 'Love actually'.
When I told David this afternoon he said I'm lucky he's in too good a mood to go on about why it is a horrible film, and that was just as well. Because I have to say that not only did I not hate it, but I quite enjoyed it too. And I felt like crying throughout about half of it. Of course that doesn't mean anything because this is the same girl who wanted to cry through out a Bearsuit gig of all things. Oh and I must have said 'aww, London' at least fourty times and 'aww, England' another ten.
Posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 10:31 pm GMT [Link] [2! Woo!]
Monday, December 1, 2003
Once upon a time we had agreed we were allowed to post poems on here, so here's a song by The Guild League that I happen to find great today. It's called 'Gravity'.
Somewhere my body holds the memory of our tactile poetry
All those sonnects sketched in finger-paints
The songs of you and me
How our skin hummed electric
Danced like wires in the rain that drenched us duelling fierce and hungry until both lay slain
I have it all up here this dusty library in my head
Through its windows snow blankets the garden of our bed
Well if you gave me soap and a pen knife I could re-invent the wheel
But I can't carve a life-sized replica of just how good it feels to have known a fraction of you for a fraction of the time that we spent stripping down the molds that we thought were yours and mine
And the future sits like stone blocks under dust sheets in our hearts
Waiting just to be uncovered and for chiselling to start
People have a name for it since Newton's apple fell
You hold our love like a fallen apple
My hands shake like William Tell
And did you know, that boy Tali sings it like an angel, too. It's great. I tell you.
(And if he happens to be reading this, there's something I want to say: Can I interview you for my webzine? Please?)
Posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 06:46 pm GMT [Link] [No, no one... ]
Sunday, November 30, 2003
A recipe for a not-so-bad Sunday
Start preparing on Saturday night. Invite friends over. Cook lots of food, so you can save some for the next day. Eat, drink and be merry. If possible, avoid argument with friend about going out/staying out. If not, at least try to make up. Go to bed and read until you can't keep your eyes open anymore.
Wake up, wondering what the hell you'd been dreaming about again. Sleepily analyse it while stumbling to kitchen. Make breakfast and coffee, take them back to bed. Read some more (it works better if you've just reached the best part of the book) until you're totally fed up with your laziness. It is important that you DO NOT get out of bed any earlier than that, not even a minute.
Check email; congratulate self for not having done that earlier. Have shower, laze around a bit more. Clean kitchen. Feel hungry. Take aforementioned food out of fridge, heat up. Make some fresh rice/pasta/something to go with it. Pour self a glass of wine (which should be left over from the previous night too). Light candle on table and play nice, cosy but cheerful music (editor's choise: the last Wandula record). Have food, finish off wine. Put washing in washing machine.
Realise it's raining. Go out to make sure your house is not going to flood this time. Get wet. Worry a little. Be happy when rain stops. Receive phonecall, and soon afterwards visit from aforementioned friend. Clean kitchen. Make pineapple pizza. Clean kitchen. Eat pineapple pizza, drink tea. Chat to friends on internet. Tell friend in real life off for playing with annoying, new, posh mobile phone.
Tidy html of page in archive, so you don't feel too bad about not getting anything new done. Find cd with long forgotten mp3s. Play quiet, sad, old-fashioned indiepop songs while you get sleepy and everything feels like a dream. Enjoy feeling immensly. Remember what the Cat's Miaow remind you of. Tell friend story about it. Think of what the Field Mice remind you of. Stay quiet about it. Say goodnight to friends. Take washing out of washing machine. Play songs from aforementioned cd.
Fall in love with song you hadn't quite noticed before (editor's choise: Embassy - Boxcar). Put it on repeat while hanging laundry. Turn radiator on for clothes to dry. Feel like you're in a sauna. Keep playing song on repeat. Sing along, preferably to the line 'we're split up in two, just like my favourite tune.' Smile.
Sleepily write a pile of nonsense for charming strangers to read. Smile a bit more, then go to bed.
Don't forget the alarm.
Posted by Dimitra Daisy @ 11:11 pm GMT [Link] [No, no one... ]
Monday, November 24, 2003
Sunlight bathed the golden glow
I've wondered about the exact meaning of that song title (taken in isolation - I'm a little while from actually figuring out what felt LYRICS mean!). You'd expect the sunshine to CREATE the golden glow, right? Not bathing a golden glow that was already there to start with. But this afternoon - or evening: it's getting to be high-summer here now, and the afternoons lengthening like a cat stretching after a nap - I got a little closer.
Having finished marking my exam-papers and feeling rather pleased with myself (or, at least, at a loose end for something to do!) I treated myself to a beer on the verandah of the coffee-shop with the sexy waitresses and clientele. It was that fading light of afternoon, and then suddenly it got BRIGHTER! Yes - I checked my watch, and the space-time continuum still seemed intact, and time moving forwards and that, but it definitely was getting lighter! And not just any light - the most gorgeous golden light, like candle-light, but more alive, liquid than that. So much so that even the waitresses from inside rushed out to come and look. I was reading and the page looked honey-coloured, though it's a brand-new book. The sortof thing camera's were made for, but can't do justice to.
At the time I just sortof sat there, taking it in, but once the song title - which was sortof obvious, I suppose - popped into my head I started to think about it, and it started to slowly take on shape. Because I realised that the sun was doing all the work here, and I was observing it, passively, from the outside... Once or twice though, I'd known what it felt like to HAVE such a glow, to project it from within, to dwarf the sunlight with your own luminous wellbeing, and then i missed that feeling.
i want to be back in the sunlight again - and not just in, but PART of it, to feel at home in a golden dusk, to treat it in kind, not to be an alien, to hide, and feel ill at ease and out of sorts. To have a golden glow that bathes in the sunlight, like water in the sea.
I think that would be nice right now. To feel, not to have Felt!
Posted by JohaN @ 07:42 pm GMT [Link] [No, no one... ]