11.27.2009
2009 Diary Notes
August 14, 2009
The ticket will not be used. Simply a visit to JFK to capture with the lense that exchange of emotions when travelers are arriving and departing.
To capture the warmth between those who wait for the flight arrival and those who arrive.How much she needs to imagine the moment of her return.
She cant go anywhere. She is a hostage of her soul; A captive of her destiny.
JFK
J.R. and C.T. are coming soon. Their flight will depart for Athens delayed few hours.
Waiting for them decide to seat at the food area to write.
Its easy to recognize the Greeks around me. Mainly dramatic faces.
I notice the dramatic face of a mother talking to her two sons.
Is she going back or are they?
Who is leaving and who is staying back?
There is a pain for both figures. Those who leave and those who stay behind.
They both struggle. But it’s a different kind of struggle.
Trying to read her lips. must be saying:
Pote tha se dw gie mou? (When will I see you again son?)
So she is the one staying behind.
How difficult it must be when the child leaves for the first time away from home.
I imagine the parents need to find again a reason to live. Probably they want to scream at the airport DON’T GO.DONT LEAVE ME. How selfish that would be though.
Was that why mother never came all the way to say goodbye to me at the airport on August 14 2004?
11.25.2009
11.24.2009
LAFAYETTE AND HOUSTON
Life in New York sounds very exciting to a temporary visitor. It stimulates those who love the arts, those who love Fashion, those whose taste in fine cuisine is demanding, it rejuvenates every single traveler who visits the city. The challenge is how the city is stimulating for those who work and live here permanently. Those whose work schedule managing one or two even jobs working morning and night and even also during the weekend doesn’t allow them to enjoy as often as they would have liked to a new movie screening, a Broadway Show a new gig that their friend has in Brooklyn, a visit to the Met or the Guggenheim or simply some free time reading a book by the park seating on a bench for hours. Easily someone would think that for them, life in New York is a routine. That for them New York is not stimulating. To the contrary though because it is this endless flow of new ideas and new faces of the people who visit New York for a week, for a month for six months or for ever that keeps those who live here stimulated. It is that mixture of unaccomplished imaginary illusions from all around the world that meet in the streets of Manhattan every day creating a song rhythm that never stops playing in the head of the locals. That is what takes us all far away from a routine. It’s the underground energy. What we Greeks call DIPSA.
To Maria life in New York never stopped being a source of inspiration and motivation for new things and new stories. Sometimes she is so busy multitasking between her job at Conde Nast International and her second job at the restaurant that she realizes the change of the seasons by the new Calvin Klein poster in the corner of Lafayette and Houston where she passes by after her yoga class.
The Calvin Klein seasonal ad campaign and poster is part of the New York scene, the New York vibe that she so much loved. Did she really expect when she arrived five and a half years ago that living in Manhattan would be Easy? What a childish thought that would be. But yet it was a necessary one to keep the journey alive, to keep her dreams and goal expectations up high like the Calvin Klein poster that no matter rain or shine is high up there in the corner of our hearts-
11.23.2009
The Odyssey Within
Few weeks ago Maria had the chance to meet with Vania Stefou in New York.Vania is visiting Manhattan representing Greece with her work that will be showcased at the exhibition "The Odyssey Within: An Exhibition of fine art by Greek & Italian artists" from December 15th - January 5th at Agora Gallery in Chelsea.
"The dynamic of being human serves as Vania Stefou’s primary inspiration, especially the physical complexity of the human body and its systems. The way we are wired internally, and what that wiring yields in our world - this is all part of the artistic landscape Vania explores in her art.
Vania lives and works amidst the islands of Greece, a location that continues to feed her creative spirit."
For more info about the exhibition you can visit:
http://www.agora-gallery.com/
Featured Painting by the artist is named One million Thoughts -
11.22.2009
Yannis Tsarouchis Drawings
-H DHMHTRA KAI O ERWS THS.
Ti na mas pei h Dhmhtra kai o Erws twra pou
Paliwse pia to klama tis gia sena
Paliwse pia kai h anamonh
Oti mia mera tha guriseis pisw
na tis peis sygxwrese me matia mou
Se agapisa kai sagapw akoma
Paliwse kai h thimish tou dikou mas Odyssea
Mono h pinelia tou Tsarouxh mas
den paliwse akoma
H Dhmhtra kai o Erws ths
Ton karteroun akoma-
Ti na mas pei H Dhmhtra kai o Erws twra pou
Kai h lyph epapse pia na klaiei
Kai to dakry epapse pia na raiei
Kai h elpida epapse pia na zei
Oti mia mera tha gyriseis san antras
Dynatos armatwtmenos
na tis peis egina agwnistis gia sena matia mou
se elatrepsa kai se latrevw akoma
Kai h Pithia afise tis kopelies sta xwrafia monaxes
Mono to skitso tou Tsarouxh
Den epapse na einai fwtino
H Dhmhtra kai o Erws tis
Mellon aiwnio tha exoun karpero-
Ti na mas pei h Dhmhtra kai o Erws twra pou
Ta fyla ksekinisan na peftoun
Ta kalokairia mas ta magika ksana den epistrefoun
Ta fegarwfota kleisane ta fwta perimenontas
Oti mia mera tha gyriseis ksana na thn
Koitaskeis opws to prwto to kalokairi ekeino
Ta giasemia poulithikan ola stin agora tis Neas Gouineas
Mono h psixh tou Tsarouxh
Den epapse na mas milaei
H Dhmhtra ton Erwn ths
Ston kairwn th dysh tha lismonei kai tha pothaei-
Gia ton Tsarouxh mas
Mia teleftaia kalhnyxta-
- Maria Garozi
6th Street, Apt 1A
November 22, 2009
To peruse Yannis Tsarouchis Drawings you can go to:
http://www.tsarouchis.gr/en/IT_COLLECTION_sxedia.htm
- DONT LET THEM DESTROY HER PAST
Very warm summer night.
Gasping for contact. Speaking to herself noone replies.
So starts writing, like a traveler who is lost for the first time alone away from home.
Home is Hellas known to many as Greece.
The Greece that belongs to Mrs Maria Callas, to Melina Mercuri, to Nico Kazantzaki, to Miki Theodoraki , to Yanni Tsarouchi.
The Greece that belongs to that young boy who screamed loudly at the demolition of one of the oldest newsstand kiosks in Panepistimiou Street in Athens, IT FeeeeEEEL
The Greece that belongs to Christo, to Evdoksia, to Yiorgo, to Rena, to Nikolao, to Filomeni,to you who know how it is to be away from home and them who wait for your return one day.
THE GREECE OF THE TSOLIA WHO IS WAITING OUT OF THE PARLIAMENT AT SYNTAGMA NO RAIN NO SHINE FOR ALL OF US TO GO BACK ONE DAY.
THE GREECE OF THE WOMEN IN THE ISLANDS WHO LIGHT UP A KANTILI AT NIGHT WAITING FOR THE RETURN OF THE MEN FROM THE SEA.
Memories. So many memories. The past of her mind is reality now.
She cant pretend anymore that it doesn’t exist.
The memory of Greece is of a country where gardenias and jasmine flowers smell in every street. Where in every corner there is a Delta store. Where the young boys are playing soccer on the streets.
The memory of Greece is of a country where the mothers are taking every Sunday their children to Church and wait for their husbands to come home to cook for them.
The memory of Greece is a country where the anarchists are anarchists for an ideal and true rebels creating the ground for a better tomorrow. Not anarchists destroying what is left of our past. Of our identity. Of our names. Of our hearts.
In the news all she read last winter was for the anarchist attacks in Athens.
Her American colleagues asked her at the office, don’t Greeks like their country?
FEAR allover the face.
They will destroy everything before she manages to go back.
Gasping for contact. Speaking to herself noone replies.
So starts writing, like a traveler who is lost for the first time alone away from home.
Home is Hellas known to many as Greece.
The Greece that belongs to Mrs Maria Callas, to Melina Mercuri, to Nico Kazantzaki, to Miki Theodoraki , to Yanni Tsarouchi.
The Greece that belongs to that young boy who screamed loudly at the demolition of one of the oldest newsstand kiosks in Panepistimiou Street in Athens, IT FeeeeEEEL
The Greece that belongs to Christo, to Evdoksia, to Yiorgo, to Rena, to Nikolao, to Filomeni,to you who know how it is to be away from home and them who wait for your return one day.
THE GREECE OF THE TSOLIA WHO IS WAITING OUT OF THE PARLIAMENT AT SYNTAGMA NO RAIN NO SHINE FOR ALL OF US TO GO BACK ONE DAY.
THE GREECE OF THE WOMEN IN THE ISLANDS WHO LIGHT UP A KANTILI AT NIGHT WAITING FOR THE RETURN OF THE MEN FROM THE SEA.
Memories. So many memories. The past of her mind is reality now.
She cant pretend anymore that it doesn’t exist.
The memory of Greece is of a country where gardenias and jasmine flowers smell in every street. Where in every corner there is a Delta store. Where the young boys are playing soccer on the streets.
The memory of Greece is of a country where the mothers are taking every Sunday their children to Church and wait for their husbands to come home to cook for them.
The memory of Greece is a country where the anarchists are anarchists for an ideal and true rebels creating the ground for a better tomorrow. Not anarchists destroying what is left of our past. Of our identity. Of our names. Of our hearts.
In the news all she read last winter was for the anarchist attacks in Athens.
Her American colleagues asked her at the office, don’t Greeks like their country?
FEAR allover the face.
They will destroy everything before she manages to go back.
11.17.2009
Maria's Paper Poetry
The poets’ heart-
Who let you go you my heart
Where have you been, where are you mourning?
The heroes of your dreams have kept you
hostage from them all
And now you are running your savior to find
Who scared you my heart
Where have you been, where are you mourning?
You are in that garden lost alone still
And no one knows if you shall meet
The girl with the golden festive hair
Who upon meeting you
the sweet secret will reveal
The boat of the return if you shall board
So that you stop longing The Pireaus port just from abroad
-Maria Garozi
Giano East Village
October 13,2009
Who let you go you my heart
Where have you been, where are you mourning?
The heroes of your dreams have kept you
hostage from them all
And now you are running your savior to find
Who scared you my heart
Where have you been, where are you mourning?
You are in that garden lost alone still
And no one knows if you shall meet
The girl with the golden festive hair
Who upon meeting you
the sweet secret will reveal
The boat of the return if you shall board
So that you stop longing The Pireaus port just from abroad
-Maria Garozi
Giano East Village
October 13,2009
11.14.2009
Maria and Giagia in her dreams
-THE LAST JOURNEY OF THE SOUL.
She woke up shaking from
a very distant dream
The Old lady of the house
back in the lands of Greece
was out in the terrace
looking at the rouch wide sea
The Earth Shaker
has announced to her
that his Lordship Hades
the darkest of them all
would come to get her
close to him at dawn
Her soul was waiting patiently alone
enjoying the roughness
of the waves, their strength
While all the rest of her beloved ones
were afraid to het her go
The wave came to grab her
but the Grand Child
the youngest of the three
run out fast in the open
sea to hold her soul alive still
Korh mou where have you been
all this time?
I am ready to leave this world
without a sight of you
Will you let me go now?
Giagia, dearest shadow of my dreams
Free I let you go
and shall always visit you
at the clean water that is deep
For my father shall also be near you
Crossing the seas with his
surf above your soul
to remind you that I Love You So
let go now, GO
-Eidothea
11.08.2009
The Gods Awakening
She saw life in Greece with all the golds
with all the favors of the Gods
and after the 24th year of her hair getting long
weathered many bitter nights of solitude
remote away in the island of New York, while
she fought to survive, to bring
good news one day back home.
But never was she given a co-traveler to have with her
on this journey for she had to prove alone of her
strength, of her willingness, of her loyalty
to her history, to her identity
and she learned the minds of many unknown men
and fought the hearts of many unknown species
during this journey
till finally one day she found EIDOTHEA.
Of these adventures, Muse, daughter of Zeus,
tell us in our time, lift the great song again.
Begin when all the rest who were to welcome her
upon her arrival had all returned back home,
while she alone still battled for home and food.
His lordship Christenios; son of Evrinthos from Attica;
sheltered her inside the Wooden doors of Pylos-
a mortal yes but most blessed from the hands of Lady Hestia,
Goddess of the hearth and home; on the day he left
the homeland thirty years ago bitten and not forgotten of
his mother’s great tragedy,
who saw her like the lost family of his own.
Maria's salute for the Singing Boy
.THE ANCHORED HEARTS’ BLUES-
A beautiful boy anchored
In her stormy sea
and held her heart captive
360 nights that made her feel alive
so no man her love would bare again to see
on night 13
wrapped the heart
in flower paper of velvet green
and took her to announce his love
in the gardens of his queen
on night 71 at dawn
he stacked the heart
in a castle made of sand
and let it wash alone to get strong
on the tip of the island that’s known to be long
on night 103 after all that
he dressed the heart
in a hat to look as a holiday angel of his art
and walked together hand by hand
in the marble lovers’ estate land
on night 211
he glued the heart
inside the glass of his ego box
and got on stage alone
without having her around staring like a fox
on night 232
he draw the heart
in all the pages of his books
and threw them from
the San Fransisco bridges' hooks
on night 360
he hid the heart
in the cords of his kithara's looks
and since then remained alone
singing his own hearts' anchored blues
.Maria Garozi-
San Fransisco, March 2009
From the Singing Boy volume
A beautiful boy anchored
In her stormy sea
and held her heart captive
360 nights that made her feel alive
so no man her love would bare again to see
on night 13
wrapped the heart
in flower paper of velvet green
and took her to announce his love
in the gardens of his queen
on night 71 at dawn
he stacked the heart
in a castle made of sand
and let it wash alone to get strong
on the tip of the island that’s known to be long
on night 103 after all that
he dressed the heart
in a hat to look as a holiday angel of his art
and walked together hand by hand
in the marble lovers’ estate land
on night 211
he glued the heart
inside the glass of his ego box
and got on stage alone
without having her around staring like a fox
on night 232
he draw the heart
in all the pages of his books
and threw them from
the San Fransisco bridges' hooks
on night 360
he hid the heart
in the cords of his kithara's looks
and since then remained alone
singing his own hearts' anchored blues
.Maria Garozi-
San Fransisco, March 2009
From the Singing Boy volume
11.02.2009
Garia's Memory of the Silent Man
-THE ENCOUNTER.
The girl’s hair is messed
Cheerful long curls dancing in the air
She is happy for her upcoming interview the next morning
Nothing in the menu seems familiar
She knows the dinner is for one
Still orders for two
Hero behind the counter
Starts preparing their first meal
The Man is seating on her left
Where does she come from he wondered
Do you need a friend?
Do you need a lover?
Are you the one who is going to save me?
ARE YOU THE ONE WHO IS GOING TO SAVE ME?
He grabs his pen
It’s my first time getting inspired to write
But what I am doing feels nice
And starts writing silent notes to the girl
He was afraid to share his notes with her
The girl is seating on his right
What is he writing she wondered
Are you writing a poem?
Are you writing a note?
Are you writing a love story?
ARE YOU WRITING OUR LOVE STORY?
She grabs the menu
It’s my first time trying Japanese food
But what I am eating tastes nice
And starts giving silent bites to the man
She wasn’t afraid to share her food with him
-Garia August
Thompson Street 3/14/06
From the Silent Man Series
Eidothea's Wall
Sing in me, Muse, same way you sang many ages ago to 1
my great ancestor and first poet ever, Homer,
and through me reveal the story of the Girl
blessed in all ways of imagination,
the adventurer, detained for years on end,
from the HomeLand; Greece; after the decision
of Lord Poseidon;Great Earth Shaker and Storm Bringer
not to ever let any mortal
whether of love whether of belief
Release her-
But Never
in this World
is Odysseus dead
only detained somewhere on the wide sea
upon some island, with wild
islanders;savages, they must be, to hold him captive.
- From The Odyssey translated by Robert Fitzgerald
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