Monday, 21st June 1999
Fateful birthday: Boredom at work, boredom at the gym. Orestes is nowhere to see. My sister has ignored me entirely. None of my friends has remembered my birthday. At night, the TV film “Nightmarish Youth” suits my psychology perfectly.
I turn 36 today and I am not at all in the mood for inviting people and celebrating anyhow. What could I celebrate indeed? That I am 36 years old and I have achieved nothing in life? That I have come to naught once again? Neither am I in the mood for receiving silly presents such as trinkets, books, or pots of flowers. In general, I feel as if I absent in my own life, because most of the events happening to me don't really concern me. I only try to endure every meaningless day...
On the other hand, I am no longer what I used to be; I am growing up and my needs are changing: An outing with wayward friends or a lecture on dubious metaphysics doesn't excite me anymore. Maybe I would be excited if I went out with Orestes. But where is he? He has disappeared for two weeks now.
Once again, I am in a crisis; but this time many circles are closing in my life simultaneously, everything is falling apart around me, and there is nothing new for me apart from one sole truth: As long as I wish something, it will never happen! And I don't even dare to imagine what the future will be like...
Wednesday, 23rd June 1999
Strange phenomena at the gym: Helena is a short, plump Albanian woman, who claims to be English and a secretary in a big company. Moreover, she has got the half-black belt in taekwondo although she can hardly move.
This evening she and I had to practise some fighting movements together. I kept changing positions all the time, so that she couldn't strike a blow at me. “Stay put so that we can practise!” she told me nervously at a moment. I obeyed, yet she still couldn't do anything to me.
“Don't look down on Helena; she is an expert in locks; if she performs an arm-lock at you, you will see stars!” I was told suddenly by Natasha, the blond vamp of our class, as we were changing clothes in the locker-room after the end of the lesson. I wondered at her spontaneous eagerness to stand for Helena, taking into account I have never said anything bad about Helena or anyone else in the class. It seems to me the blonde plays the part of the leader/supervisor in our class, just like Ellie did in Nicky's school...
Saturday, 26th June 1999
Good news: First of all, Josef got rid of the plaster this morning. From now on he will be able to walk, but he will have to use crutches for a few months. In addition, my short story “Adventure in the Land of the Dead” was published in the magazine “Greek Fantasy”, in the issue of June.
In the evening I went out with my friends Annita, Xanthippe and Helen. We went to ''Cataralla'', which is our favourite seaside cafeteria: An exotic environment, fabulous colourful fountains, artificial gurgling streams and an interesting occasion: A fashion show with beautiful mannequins dressed in attractive, ethereal outfits. While it lasts, we keep on watching carefully, without superfluous talking. Better so...
Thursday, 1st July 1999
Mathusala, my goldfish, died yesterday. He was two years old. This afternoon Urania and I went to a pet shop and bought new goldfish. I chose two beautiful fish with impressive tails. “Make sure not to stir them while walking, because goldfish get stressed,” the shop assistant advised us.
Back at home, I sought to empty the two fish in the fish tank on the heat accumulator. However, I accidentally dropped one of them behind the heavy radiator! It was kinda difficult for me to get it out of there. “What a shock for the poor fish!” joked Urania.
Then, my friend and I had some tea and we chatted for a while; at a moment I expressed a heretical opinion: “In a jungle, it is the strongest or cleverest animal that prevails; in the human society, however, it is yes-men who prevail -those who serve networks blindly. A person's natural abilities are of no importance; on the contrary, the more gifted someone is, the more the human herd fights them!”
“What you say is anarchic and subversive and you shouldn't say it! It means that human society is a lunatic asylum!” Urania answered with a set face -and she is right: Human society is not a jungle -if only it were! It is an immense bedlam, indeed...
Monday, 12th July 1999
Early in the morning, before arriving at work, I went to a nearby toy shop and bought two new decks of the card game Esoterra. New cards, more rules, an advanced game I can hardly wait to play.
In the evening I didn't go to the gym, I don't give a dime about taekwondo, besides Orestes doesn't come anymore. I visited Persa and we played Esoterra like hypnotized, under the light of candles for three hours. We both had a whale of a time! After all, this is what life offers me, this is what I relish. Why should I go around like an unfair curse, vainly pursuing things that are never meant for me?
Ex Oblivion: An inner truth, which I have always tried to forget, has just recurred omnipotent once again: There is a difference, indefinable but evident, between me and human beings! I neither think nor feel the same as they do, I don't pursue the same things in life as they do, I don't even have the basic characteristics of the human psyche: wickedness, cunning, lust.
All my life I have been feeling like a prisoner in an alien world, inside an alien body. Wherever I go, whatever I do, no matter how hard I try to pretend I am one of them, the truth always prevails and haunts every moment of my life: I am different from the other people; I am alien, extraterrestrial, extra-dimensional!
That's why nothing really satisfies me, that's why I never achieve anything, despite my continuous efforts: The terrestrial, human aims in life (studies, business, money, love, perpetuation of the human species) are not for me.
That's why it is impossible for me to mate with a terrestrial man.
That's why, wherever I go, I can never fit in.
That's why no one is ever on my side, not even the members of my family.
That's why I've always been a target: at school, at work, in social occasions, in gyms, everywhere: My “fellow-men” can sense my difference and, since they are herd animals, they instinctively attack anything foreign -let alone extraterrestrial. I've always been alone against everybody.
Happiness is to be in your element, but I am very far from my element. I know I don't belong here, but I have no idea what I am, how I ended up here, or what I've come to do on this earth. I can feel there is a special ''mission'' for me here, but I haven't had a specific sign yet. So, I spend my time waiting and finding ways to make my everyday life more tolerable.
The only thing I really wish is to go away, very far from here. This has always been my innermost desire, ever since I was a toddler: to come in contact with some alien race, my race, who will take me away from earth, beyond the galaxies...
Friday, 16th July 1999
In the meanwhile, the situation at work is getting worse and worse: Andromache and Gryparis are always bombarding me with offensive remarks and they are constantly complaining about everything. I've begun to believe the two of them have launched a war against me because they intend to make me quit my job; in this case, the company won't have to give me a dismissal pay. Moreover, when Spyropoulos arrives at work in the morning and I greet him politely, he just turns his face away and pretends he can't see me. As usual, I have no allies in there. All my colleagues avoid me and they look down on me.
This morning, Mrs Julia -an old, good colleague- called; I answered the phone -since I am the telephone operator- and she asked for ''Andromache?” at once, pretending she hadn't recognized my voice. I put her through immediately, so she didn't have to talk to me at all. Who knows what she's heard about me...
As for the rest, I carry out all my duties in the best possible way. Nevertheless, sometimes I bring pamphlets from travel agencies at work; when I have free time, I riffle through them right before their eyes. Judging by their angry looks, I understand they get furious; especially when I let them know I intend to spend a week in Paris, lots of people make wry faces -and I like it so!
Thursday, 22nd July 1999
This afternoon we had examinations in taekwondo, in Acron Gym. Finally, I managed to take the yellow belt again, although the master wasn't very pleased with me: “Yvonne, you were very nervous; and in the first exercise, you turned your head left instead of right!” he said dourly, as he was giving me -rather unwillingly- the precious belt. I was kinda disappointed; I thought I had done well in the exams.
Later, at home, I recollected the scene in my mind again and again, trying to understand how I managed to turn my head the wrong way, in the simplest taekwondo form ever: We bring the left foot and the left fist forward; the right elbow goes back, the hand in a fist. Then we turn body and head to the right, both arms stretched backwards; then, the right foot and the right fist come forward, whereas the left elbow goes back -and so on. I just wonder: How could I ever turn my body and arms to the right but my head to the left? This movement is unnatural, how did I make it? Did I make it?
“Stop! It is as if they were saying to you: Stop!” my friend Urania said calm, when I let her know all about it.
Monday, 26th July 1999
After the taekwondo lesson, Natasha (the blond ''leader'' of our class) suddenly approached and sought to admonish me, lest my newly-acquired yellow belt might turn my head:
“So, you got the yellow belt after six months of practice! Big deal!”
“It's been four months ever since I started coming here, that is from April!” I reminded her, smiling.
“Six months, six months!” she insisted, supposedly joking.
As about Helena, the ''wiz-kid'', this time she came to the lesson wearing a black belt, although she hadn't even appeared in the examinations! Isn't this a mystery...
Allegiance - The greatest human virtue: The most important prerequisite for success in the human society is allegiance, that is devotion to a hierarchy and its leader. From a very early age, you hear from everybody that you ought to be ''useful to society'' and think of the others as more significant than you. Naturally, the term “others” is too vague, it can't include all the people of earth. “The others” finally prove to be a specific group of persons: your family, the company you work for, a club, an association, a religious sect, a political party etc.
What they all demand is your mind, your time and, most of all, your energy. They all demand these three things from you: All your mind, all your time, all your energy. Whatever you do or think should serve one thing only, that is the interests of the group. Of course, all groups happen to obey a ''leader'', so the final beneficiary of your efforts is actually one person -the leader.
The demand for allegiance to a leader is an expression of primitive, brutal force: Those who don't show the expected monomaniac behaviour, are punished with isolation and failure in life. Unless you serve some ''superior authority'', you can't survive. What you can do and offer is of no importance to leaders; all they are really interested in is your becoming part of the ''mass''. If you wish to have a place in the human society, you will have to submit yourself sooner or later.
As about me, work has always been the plague of my life. The truth is I hate working in Pangaea, or anywhere else. I hate the job of a secretary, or any other job. Ever since I became an adult and had to find a job, work has been exasperating me, depressing me, frustrating me. Nevertheless, what I abhor most of all is not work itself, but my having to do with every man Jack. I waste too much energy by dealing with all kinds of scoundrels, psychos, ruffians, harlots day in, day out. “And you can do nothing to avoid them! While at work, you are just a sitting duck!” says Mary Skina. Anyway, I shouldn't be serving companies. This is not at all my mission in life...
* * * *
Sunday, 1st August 1999
Night Adventure: Two opposite cosmic powers fight against each other. Their conflict puts the whole universe in danger, so I imprison them in two different magic seals and place them in a special frame on the wall. Two other women help me but one of them eventually betrays us. The seal is broken, the two powers are free again.
My friend and I are prisoners of a bad witch now. We are in a pink cell and we can hear the witch saying that the next room will soon be full of water and she will release a shark in there; then she will open a gap on the party-wall, so that the water and the shark will flow into our room; if we don't allow the sea monster to devour us, the universe will be destroyed by the conflict of the two opposite powers. I know there is a christian spell which could help us, but I can't remember it and I despair.
The time comes, the witch approaches but I still can't remember the spell. There are some people outside, shouting and complaining about the noise, without suspecting the imminent danger.
“You will die, so will the world!” the witch threatens, while through the door pane I can see not one, but two sharks swimming in the next room, which is already full of water.
At that moment, I remember and I burst into laughing. “You are only a dream and I am the dreamer! As soon as I shut my eyes, I am out of here and you can do nothing to stop me!” I say to the witch triumphantly. She looks at me with glassy eyes, probably she can't understand what I mean. The gap on the party-wall opens slowly, lots of water rush in, its flow echoes around threatening. I close my eyes and try to wake up, but I can't.
My conscience hasn't fully returned to this world when I extend my arm towards the standard-lamp, with great difficulty. I try to turn it on but it's impossible. Yet, I have to... Finally, I make it! I wake up right on time, full of satisfaction and relief. Maybe I saved a universe tonight...
Thursday-Saturday, 5th -7th August 1999
I am on a three-day trip on the island of Agistri, together with my mother and Josef who can now walk freely, without crutches. From the moment we left home, the boy has been a regular jack-in-the-box. His face is always red, he grinds his teeth maniacally and never stops railing at me: “You, senile old woman!” … “You are evil and ugly!” … “You, disgusting old spinster!” … “I wish you never get married or have children!” and so on.
“This is just what I need, to have a child like you!” I say to him at a moment.
“If you have children, they will be retarded!” he retorts full of spite.
As about my mother, she always sides with him: “Shame on you, Yvonne, quarreling with Josef! He is just a baby and he has been through a lot! Just don't pay attention to him, is it so difficult?”
I wonder: How long can anyone endure insults and curses, repeated over and over again, all day long, without losing their composure?
Moreover, the ten-year-old ''baby'' never stops demanding that we buy him toys, ice-creams, sweets etc, and he swears like a lorry-driver any time we refuse. Whenever we go to a restaurant, he demands we order two or three different dishes for him, so that his majesty can decide which one he will eat. “The eye must be satisfied too!” he says impudently, and my mother is always ready to indulge as many of the prince's whims as possible.
Every time we go to the nice swimming-pool of our hotel, Josef always makes sure to arrest everybody's attention by yelling at me like a lunatic, at the top of his voice: “Now, aunt! Dive now! Now, now, now!” while he trembles all nerves. When I finally dive, he runs (always yelling) and falls right on me! Then he splashes around hysterically, annoying everybody in the pool, while his mocking guffaws echo all around. Sometimes, when my dive is not so good, probably because he makes me dizzy with all the fuss he makes, he shouts and laughs even more loudly until he screams himself hoarse: “Haaaa, ha, haaaa! You've just made a fool of yourself again! Come on, aunt, try again, again, again!” Needless to say, I've become the laughing-stock of the whole hotel; yet, at that time I can't realize what's happening, as Josef keeps guffawing and screaming in my ears continuously. I can't think clearly; I only try to have some fun...
On Saturday morning we depart for Aegina. First we go on a pilgrimage to the Monastery of St Nektarios. After midday we reach my building plot in Kypseli. We are flabbergasted as we find my father knocking around, hopelessly trying to build some kind of ''house'' there; it is made of tarred paper or something like that, it looks miserable and it stands in the place of the cottage demolished three months ago! What a ridicule! I can hardly believe my eyes! My mother is about to be struck all of a heap! She starts yelling at him and makes him stop at once, while Josef smiles maliciously.
Anyway, I don't really mind about all this, since I don't give a dime about this piece of land. What bothers me most, is a cockerel which has been crowing continuously every since we arrived. At 5:30 in the afternoon the damned bird hasn't shut up yet, and I decide to go for a walk around. Pity, though... I thought that at such an isolated place I would find some piece and quiet at last; but it seems that a kind of sonic war follows me everywhere... When I return, at about 7:00, the cockerel is still crowing! I complain about the awful noise, but none of my family members seems to sympathize with my exasperation. Actually, it is my complaining that exasperates them even more! In the meanwhile, I have already decided never to set foot on the island of Aegina again.
Paradoxically, Josef seems to have calmed down here; at least, he doesn't swear at me all the time, it is as if he were in torpor. As about me, I don't feel so well: I have a terrible headache and a fever (in the month of August!) and I know well what's made me sick. These are the worst holidays of my life...
Sunday, 8th August 1999
Early in the morning I depart for Corfu together with my friend Denia. Frankly, I don't know how I decided to go on this organized trip: I visited Corfu again, with the same travel agency, three years ago. Besides, I have arranged to leave for Paris on the 20th of this month, again with Denia. I guess I've been carried away by the desire to escape from my joyless routine as much as possible.
The journey to Igoumenitsa, more than ten hours in a coach, seems to be endless, tiresome, tormenting. I still have a fever, my head is spinning and I can no longer bear the scorching sun on my head. I lower the sun-stop but the Russian bumpkin sitting behind me keeps raising it, and this is repeated countless times until we reach our destination. In the meantime, my nerves have gone to pieces...
Monday, 9th August 1999
In the morning we went on a guided tour to Mon Repos, not far from our hotel in Pontikonisi. Then we visited the church of St Spyridon, after that we went for a swim to the picturesque but crowded beach of Palaiokastritsa. As I was swimming in the shallows, I bumped into a woman from our group twice. It happened by accident, I apologized both times, but she complained “We two will keep bumping into each other all the time!” with an attitude.
When the time came, 3:00 in the afternoon, Denia and I were back in the coach, according to the tour-guide's instructions. To my great surprise, everybody had already returned to their seats, before 3:00 pm, like well-oiled robots, and they were all glaring at us. The fat tour-guide seconded two old men who grumbled over our being late.
“Didn't we say we should be back at 3:00 pm?” I wondered, looking at my watch. It was 3:00 o'clock sharp.
“Aah, yes!” she admitted unwillingly and everybody made a wry face.
In the evening my friend and I took the bus to the city of Corfu. We walked around the streets for a while, then we sat at an outdoor cafeteria in the main square, where we exchanged just a few words -Denia has never been very communicative. An Italian gipsy, who was supposed to be an artist, came near and asked for some money for a brief dancing performance she had just given. We paid no attention and she swore at us: “Antipatiche!”
Repulsion. During the whole evening I had been feeling a kind of repulsion, a smouldering yet strong sense of expulsion -as if all those people who were having fun didn't want us among them. We stood up and went away after an hour or so, and it proved to be extremely difficult for us to find a taxi to take us back to the hotel. Moreover, my friend seems to be more boring than usual, while the rest of the group is too hostile. I have the impression from now on holidays won't be what they used to be for me...
Wednesday, 11th August 1999
It is a very special day today: An eclipse of the sun is expected at noon, together with an alignment of the nine planets in our solar system; such a rare concurrence takes place once in 2000 years and many people are afraid of imminent natural disasters on earth.
Early in the morning we follow the litany of St Spyridon, not without some strange obstacles and a certain nervousness; then, all at once, I lose Denia! Where can she be hiding? The coach is about to leave without us! I worry and worry, until my friend suddenly appears -right at the last moment; I suppose she wanted to go for a walk alone. Fortunately, some people happen to delay more than Denia, so we leave for Messonghi twenty minutes later. Strangely enough, none of the passengers complains about this.
When we reach our destination, the driver announces the time of departure; he says we should ''wait for the coach right here, behind this wall”, and he shows a back street behind us. The beach proves to be mediocre and crowded. When the time of the eclipse comes, the atmosphere seems to be strangely heavy and hazy for a few minutes. As about the alignment of the planets, it escapes notice; nothing extraordinary happens, the end of the world hasn't come -as many feared. Nevertheless, I do feel a weird chill in the atmosphere, a kind of breach, an odd inner and outer rupture: an invisible yet fateful change in the world and inside me...
When the time of departure comes, Denia and I leave the beach and go to find the coach in the narrow street we were shown. Yet there is nothing there, so we run to the main road hoping to see the vehicle there. We wait at the bus station for a few minutes, yet the coach is nowhere to see. So, we begin searching here and there, full of agony, until we finally find it in a narrow street; we are ten minutes late. As soon as we get in, almost out of breath, the whole group starts booing us! An awful uproar resounds all around us, as we walk to our seats. Some crazy old men shout at top voice, accusing us that “You are always late! You do it on purpose!”
“This is not true! We have never been late before and this time we are because we didn't understand where the coach would be!” I protest, but my voice is muffled by a chorus of hooting, while Denia can't help laughing. “However, this morning as well as last night, certain people were more than twenty minutes late but you didn't have a problem with that!” I go on.
“Come on, nobody was late!” exclaims the young man sitting behind me. He is one of those who delayed our tour this morning.
Then I turn to Denia and I say to her loudly, so that everybody around can listen: “When we get to the hotel, I will explain to you what really bothers all these dandies!”
I am sure many have heard that and got the point but nobody reacts, probably because I've hit the nail in the head.
“But... is this where we were told to wait?” I ask Denia a little later, as the vehicle finally sets off.
“No way...” she wonders too.
As hours go by, I can interpret better the unprecedented feeling of ''rupture'' inside me: First of all, I can see it isn't temporary; it is permanent. This is how I will be feeling from now on: I can't tolerate them any more. I can no longer bear them. I can't endure their presence. I mean human beings; I just can't stand them any more...
Thursday, 12th August 1999
This morning Denia and I visited the impressive Canal d' Amour in Sidari. We went just the two of us, since this excursion wasn't included in the organized tour. The landscape is fantastic, we had a fine time, yet Denia was always worrying about our losing the bus back to Corfu, and she demanded we leave the beach two hours too soon. First we had lunch at a fast food restaurant, then we had to wait for the bus under the blazing sun for more than an hour.
In the afternoon we went to a beautiful swimming-pool near our hotel. I offered to give swimming lessons to Denia, since she doesn't know how to swim right and she is terrified when she can't touch bottom. Sometimes she gets on my nerves with her ten-year-old mind (“Two fifty-drachma banknotes make one hundred drachmas?”), her phobias (she is afraid of getting drowned in half a metre of water), her inability to communicate (she seldom has anything interesting to say). Nevertheless, she proves to be the right person to go on a trip with! At least she doesn't avoid trying new experiences and she doesn't exasperate me with continuous, silly objections to everything...
Friday, 13th August 1999
Night Adventure: A mermaid witch, called Hailey, decides to harm the immortal Triton. At a moment, when he gives Hailey his hand, she spits at it with disgust; strangely enough, this is how Triton becomes mortal. Someone knows and asks the witch: “Why did you do this to Triton?” but she gives no answer. Later on, he stands in the court of mermaids and declares he forgives Hailey. Then I rise and make a positive remark about forgiveness, which will set him free from many redundant future lives...۩
As for the rest: We return to Athens, taking the same endless, boring route. I've come to believe guided tours function in the same way as modern sects, since they deviously impose herding and submission: ''You will go no further than there, you will eat at that restaurant, and at 3:00 pm sharp you will all be back to the coach without a second of delay''. In this way, all group members adopt the same way of thinking, the same desires, the same obedience to an actually fascist regime. Moreover, organized trips prove to be too exhausting, since travel agencies always make sure to follow the longest possible distance between two destinations. This happens not because they want to satisfy their clients, but because they aim to exhaust and enervate the ''cattle''...
Friday, 20th August 1999
Early this morning Denia and I are travelling to Paris by plane, again with a travel agency. By noon we arrive at our hotel, near Republic Square. It's not bad, but I expected it to be more luxurious. Then we go on a cruise along the Seine, after that we reach Montmarte Square, where lots of artists display their paintings, and we also visit the white church of Sacré Coeur.
In the days to follow we shall visit many wondrous sights such as the Palace of Versailles, the cathedral Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Luxembourg gardens, the Champs Elysées and the Arc of Triumph, some castles on the river of Loire, and Disneyland: How beautiful, fairy-like our cities would be if certain people allowed that...
All is fine, yet my friend still makes me nervous as she seems to be completely unable to take any initiative or make the simplest calculation: She can't turn drachmas into francs, she can't go around by herself because she gets lost in the streets, and the metro is too confusing for her. This means I am obliged to do all the thinking and explain everything to her, as if she were a four-year-old infant. Strange, though: Whenever we meet in Athens for a coffee, she doesn't seem to be such a retard...
Wednesday, 25th August 1999
I've decided to go on a special guided tour to Normandy today; Denia doesn't wish to join us, and I am happy to get rid of her childish, helpless mind for a few hours. First we visit the picturesque town of Honfleur, which is full of nice cottages and flowers.
Then we arrive in Dauville, where we'll stay only for an hour. The fascinating town with the luxurious houses and the expensive shops leaves me speechless. As the tour-guide informs us, this is a tourist resort for the rich; many music and cinema stars