April 28, 2009

Thankfully it doesn’t happen often. If I were in charge of Gougourounia it most definitely would not – as a rule. So, Conan has a drum. Well, good for him. The way he beats it just makes me want to borrow it, keep it… for a while.

My heart and soul are pissed off with me. So would you be,if someone were to pull a stop|start|go|no|yes stunt on you the way I have. But screaming “fuuuuuuuuck!!” at me won’t stop me from persistently trying to crash my own hard drive, or stuffing my head full of rocks, for that matter. Deep breath.

I respect the boundaries I found, as well as the choices people make and by which they live. For themselves as well as for one another. And then I find something. Someone. And something. Suddenly I am struck. I can feel emotions creeping up on me and I’m irresistibly drawn.

I touch and I feel a charge. I hear a breath with a voice all its own. There is definitely pleasure there and around us. I resist at the point I would ask and want more. It’s the ‘right’ thing, dontcha know…dontcha know.

Now, the existence of ‘right’ may well be called into question. It is almost never the same word or meaning twice. Almost never. I feel that when we fused, as it were, it was just right. Do I mean true. Yes, maybe that makes more sense. Ah, maybe true is true. True is true.

Almost at the speed of light? No. I take my goddamn time and go round and about like a silly boy on a bicycle. Look. No hands. And eventually, kiss, speak, touch, tears. Yes, you guessed right; ‘right’ thing just flew out the window. After all that resistance, day after day in a private time warp.

It is not a showdown between ‘my rules’ and ‘your rules’ as if on a quest for compromise. One soul seeks the other. Naturally, instinctually, it’s almost primal. No, not scary at all. Scary would be not being able to let go when you respect. Why in hell would one want to suffocate what is at the centre of such an intimate universe?

Resistance came with every step. Is it more selfish to speak or to keep quiet? Timing. Comedy. Yes, well, the facts remain as they are. More fluid in some ways than we may realise. Priorities don’t dictate but they make for a pretty good guide. So that getting lost does not become piece-of-piss easy.

There are times when one doesn’t need to pepper dubious prose with the word love or throw in the odd ‘in love’ for good measure.

Never say never, you said.

I won’t.


What was that all about?

April 28, 2009

Maybe a WTF would have sufficed. The jury, however, is out on the subject of acronyms. It’s been a year since I last posted anything. A strange, dark and interesting year. Sadness, anger, disillusionment and noise. It’s interesting how looking at the date of the last post has thrown me. It’s interesting, to me, how I come back to this spot and try and take stock. And all this when all I want to do is hide.

A horse walks into a bar and the barman asks, “what’s with the long face…?”

That’s more like it.


Almost Back

April 30, 2008

Yes, well, now that everyone has left maybe we can back to the matter at hand. In this case it’s probably about blogging in the name of Gougourounia. Hell, why not? I mean, there are people all over the world who seem to be into this blogging thing.

Alright, then, we’ll see how it goes.

After all, life is too short for common sense…


On The Sixth Day of Christmas

December 20, 2006


I had a bloody toothache. Called a friend in Connecticut and his gynaecologist wife called my local pharmacy to prescribe penicillin. Should I walk in and pretend I’m a woman? Would the cross-dresser at the diner across the street take umbrage?


Went to dinner with John B – wonderful little Indian place on Upper West Side.


Poor Lisa was fretting over her paycheck which came late, as the mailman must obviously have gotten into the spirit of the season well ahead of time, whilst the newspaper from the Old Country was delivered a mere 4 days after being bunged in the mail.

Paycheck finally arrived. Called Lisa and told her I’d be in Midtown Manhattan anyway, so I could bring it with me.

We met not far from the New York Public Library lions – a block away from the Old Country Consulate where I’d stopped there for a coffee, a smoke and a pee. Lisa and I had a smoke as people walked by. Behind the Library we have Bryant Park. Lots of little seasonal stands including a local corner of Lindt Heaven.

Naturally, we both extolled the virtues of the Swiss chocolatier. We agreed that no one else on this planet can make a white chocolate like Lindt. Not Leonidas, not Guylian. And yes, Godiva is for plebs. We laughed – considering we were a former freelancer with a real job and a former freelancer enslaved by an albatross he loves.

After dinner I headed back home. On the way, however, John and I stopped for a beer at a bar. I realised that I’d done some shooting outside this bar 6 or so years ago. The obligatory neon in a car side mirror shot type of thing. No one took notice at the time. The producer had called me a few days later to ask what the hell these shots were all about. I made a polite, yet insencere apology. They ended up as a brief montage in the first of my footage seen on US TV since Sarajevo. And John and I had a beer each.

Lisa was packing for an impending Christmas trip when I got back to the loft. I told her to relax. Her flight’s not until Thursday. So, she brought out her large format Mamiya and made me sit for a couple of Polaroids. 2 Excellent pictures. She then handed me the monster.

Looking down and trying to focus through a lens that cost the better half of a second hand car (she bought the kit in question second-hand) while quite happy on antibiotics was almost harrowing. “Arrrghhh, ma la ka!” she screamed, “you made my forearm look like a leg of mutton!”. Hrrrmmph.

Chris then arrived and we all sat down for tea. Chris had a beer.

Lisa took wonderful pictures of Chris. Once she scans the Polaroids we get to keep our choice of picture.

We called it a night.

Lisa had left a small bag on the door handle to my room. White Chocolate balls by Lindt.

Today was one of the most beautiful days I’ve had.

I love my family. I love Chris and Lisa.

I love Christmas when it just unfolds and doesn’t necessarily fall on the day itself.


‘bye, George

December 5, 2006

Dearest George,

Your passing away is the only thing even more tragic than what your life had become. I will never understand how a man so generous of spirit and so wonderfully intelligent gradually vanished before our very eyes. I feel that there are more than just a few people who love you to the extent that we knew you would one day leave us. And yet one is never and should never be prepared for the inevitable.

I will always feel love and frustration when I remember you. Frustration at what your life became and how you would not let anyone who loved you stay close or even get close.

As your life gradually became more lonely and as you started vanishing before of our very eyes, our frustration grew.

My anger was never the kind of anger one feels towards something bad. George, you were one of the kindest people I have ever known. But you were never kind enough to yourself.

I believe that all those who love you dearly will always be sad. But we will also be happy that we knew you.

When I remember you it will also be a reminder that I will always find kindness in this world.

I wish you had chosen to stay with us but I am also relieved that you will not suffer any longer.

If there is a God, I ask Him to Keep your Soul and to give you all the love you deserve.

For eternity.



December 5, 2006

Nick and Sophie called this afternoon and told me about George Pierides passing away. I know I was angry with him, as were many others who loved him.

I think Nick was probably the kindest of all, as he would still check up on him occasionally at what was left of his house in

George became increasingly more tolerant of the hoodlums who became a little rent-a-crowd, gradually sucking him dry and literally ransacking his place.

These people didn’t even afford him the dignity of Mme Hortense as they removed artefacts, money, furniture and what have you while he was still alive.

However prepared one can be for the inevitable it was obviously still a shock to hear the news. I’ll always be happy I knew him.

I remember when he got wind of the fact that I was shitting bricks at the prospect of going to Mogadishu he had swung by the house and told me to take my Rolex off,  giving me his Swatch to wear instead.

“Re malaka”, I remember him telling me, “don’t you know that they’ll kill you without so much as giving it a second thought, let alone seeing a Rolex on your wrist?”

The strange thing is that his visit calmed me. Well, not that strange, actually, bearing in mind that it is comforting when someone shows he cares even in such a uniquely convoluted way.

I miss him terribly. I have done for a while now.


It’s been a while

November 26, 2006

That cellphone bill was taken care of and they didn’t even charge me for the call I made to take care of it. That was a few days ago. Today my cellphone rang. Somehow I was hoping it would ring but I wanted it to be a surprise. Two out of two ain’t bad at all. ‘Twas a bunch of friends sitting at a restaurant in the old country. Now, don’t give me crap about etiquette; the instigator is a restauranteur himself so it’s anything goes. He told me the waitress was cute and then 5 more people spoke to me, all telling me they’d missed me. I miss them as well.

“Yeah, March, probably… nothing much, just working on the film… no, been out of work for a while… still in Kato Brooklyn… I miss you too… no, not Christmas. March, probably”

I looked at more footage and then went and did my laundry. Beautiful weather for late November.