SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF SPRING

01.04.05


Vivi asked me to become tragic again. She wanted me to find this tone of my voice that is so direct and dramatic at the same time. She was moved by that tone of voice, she says. I believe that. I did what I could to play the part of a man who looks like me but is not like me. I was thinking of all the tortures of the world in order to feel deeply sad. Today I couldn’t do the same thing. She asked me if I could understand the difference between the last and today’s rehearsals. I understood it in the way that the dissonant person understands his/her wrong notes but doesn’t know how to fix them.

Right now that I’m writing to you my dog sighs in melancholy and I wonder if he has his reasons for being sad. We are listening to the arrangement of the song ‘Ta paidia tou Peiraia’ (= ‘The children of Peiraeus’) by the Pink Martini. For some undetectable reason, my mind goes to Paris. I swore not to write anything about trips on that post but I find it to be impossible. Those days I love Athens like never before and yet I can’t manage to cancel my imaginary trips. I wish the weather would be spring again. I would at least have a good excuse for being absent-minded and also in a hurry all the time, as always.

My father would prefer that I drove with less speed. He holds the roof handle all the time and shouts ‘slow down, slow down’. I hold the gear stick in my left hand. The more I pull it close to me, the faster I drive. When I push it to the front, I pull the brakes. I have the steering wheel in my right hand, which I turn with the help of the well-known attached handle of the lorry drivers . This way of driving can lift you high. Some times, you get the impression that you pilot an aircraft and not that you are driving a car.

My palms are full of corns. I finally stopped using the walker and go around the whole house with the sticks. I put enormous strength in my hands in order to stand up. Some times I stagger, I sweat and I am scared. The physical therapist said that my fear is stronger than my weakness. I repeat that sentence every time that I think of calling it quits. In the end, I insist on doing it.