Sinister: Fwd: Sinister activities in Athens

[joanna tsoni]

>DAHLING:
>How do I begin to describe possibly the best night
>I’ve ever spent in this crazy city? And how do I
>explain the significance of a little “Belle and
>Sebastian” tribute night to those of you who are lucky
>enough to have Belle and Sebastian as a casual part of
>everyday life - who hear their songs on the radio, in
>clubs, who spot other fans in the supermarket or at
>picnics? Well, I’ve enlisted the help of my lovely
>fellow listee and partner in crime, Ms. Joan of Dark
>herself.
>Gosh, I think this might be my first post with actual
>content. Imagine.
>Let’s begin.
>When I moved here four months ago I suspected I would
>be entering a musical wasteland devoid of indie
>activity. But I never expected that the sightings of
>corduroys and shaggy hair would be quite so few and
>far between. In fact, it took two months for me to see
>my first Greek punk among the masses of twiggy girls
>and slick boys in skin-tight spandex trousers or
>jeans, and I don’t think I ever saw anyone of the
>romulan-haired or twee variety. The only half-way
>decent radio station still plays Slayer and Britney
>Spears in between the occasional Low and Tindersticks
>song.
>So imagine my surprise when my roommate ran in the
>front door Saturday waving a TimeOut-esque music
>listings magazine I had never seen before, pointing to
>a listing for a Belle and Sebastian night at a local
>club, organized by the band’s official fan club,
>Wandering Days. WHAT? Athenian FAN CLUB??? Where the
>hell have the other Athenian Belle and Sebastian fans
>been hiding? As far as I knew there were only four or
>five other fans in the entirety of Greece. I suspected
>maybe there were a few more, but I sure as hell had no
>idea where to find them. And here they were,
>organizing an INDIE NIGHT! Insane!
>So I called Joanna immediately, of course. We made
>arrangements and before we knew it, we were meeting at
>a subway station, squealing in unconcealed glee. I
>actually believe Joanna was bouncing. I was too,
>inside. Outside, I was still a bit knackered from a
>week of entertaining my parents, but no lack of sleep
>or sanity would have kept me away. Oh no. I was
>fantasizing about this fabulous homey place where all
>these Greek indie kids would be floating around in a
>contented nirvana, meeting each other and having a
>generally fantastic time. And I would finally meet the
>elusive bunch of OTHER B&S FANS!
>We found our way to the club in the nearby university
>area, pressed up against the foot of one of the many
>hills of Athens. It was early yet. We peeked inside,
>but the place was pretty much empty. So we wandered
>for some water, returned, perched higher on the hill
>where we could keep the door in sight and watch for
>the first sight of OTHER B&S FANS. We sat for what
>seemed like an eternity along a wall near a smelly,
>overflowing dumpster (the trash workers were on strike
>last week), and gossiped a bit. Every time someone
>walked by we stopped talking and tried to assess -
>fan? Random schmuck? I think we were unclear as to
>what form a fan might take. Eventually we saw FOUR
>people enter at around 11 p.m. or so and we took it as
>our cue to go in ourselves.
>The club was quite cozy - a renovated old apartment
>with four rooms, one with a bar, where were promptly
>sat down. There were two girls in typical indie garb
>-old Johnny-collar t-shirts - manning the CD player.
>There were two older men sitting in front of them,
>chatting and sneaking looks at us. There was a group
>of three regular-looking twenty-somethings hidden away
>in the corner of another room. That was about it. For
>at least half an hour. Later, two other older men
>joined the crew. There was no B&S coming from the
>sound system. We sipped at our Amstel and Gin and
>Tonic very slowly, thinking perhaps we had mixed up
>the dates or something. But we spotted a B&S postcard,
>and later a bag of badges. Joanna got up the courage
>to approach the DJ girls and talk to them while I was
>on my mobile, and she came back with badges and two
>fan club sign-up forms. People started to trickle in
>while we racked our brains on the question: “Other
>favorite bands.” Other bands? What? There’s more than
>B&S? Oh, right. Ha!
>The Stars of Track and Field came on and we called the
>esteemed Mr. Chu to squeal inaudibly and listen to his
>lovely accent.
>We moved to another room, where we sat in a dark
>corner watching an older gay man in a bright orange
>t-shirt pace in and out about 50 times in a very
>strange and amusing way. A few other people came in
>and went to the bar. Things were not looking
>encouraging. No one was mingling. There was hardly any
>B&S being played. In between the occasional B&S song
>was spattered a completely random array of music, most
>of which I had never heard. It certainly did not sound
>very B&S-esque. We agreed we would make much better
>DJs.
>Eventually, we decided to make a fateful trip back to
>the bar. When we did, we saw all these people that had
>somehow managed to sneak past us, even though we had
>been staring directly at the door for an hour. Among
>them was a guy Joanna vaguely knew from university.
>There were a few speedy introductions to his big group
>of friends, and within minutes, we were swallowed up
>into them.
>Two insane members of this group, one with an enormous
>head of fuzzy hair and goggling eyes that concocted in
>the strangest expressions, took it upon themselves to
>entertain me. One put an arm around me and led me into
>the other room, where he went off on a five-minute
>tirade about a philosophy he had just developed about
>the individualism of language and communication, and
>its impact in an international climate of
>change…or…something like that. The other then stole me
>away and started using big words ending in -ation. It
>was a little dance that was repeated over and over
>again all night.
>“STACEY!” one would begin, head leaning forward in
>what I assumed - and hoped - was a drunken stupor,
>“come HERE, what are you doing there alone! Let me
>tell you about our cooperation in this evil battle
>against Bin Laden. Come, dance. Joanna, what are you
>DOING?”
>They were clearly mad. But entertaining. At this
>point, we had to move to another room because the
>group was growing in size and activity and could not
>be contained at the bar. Joanna was also getting
>pulled away randomly by other members of the group,
>and she would turn around occasionally to make sure I
>wasn’t being carried off somewhere. She would come
>over, laughing hysterically, offering to rescue me as
>I got led by both arms in circles, sets of slurring
>lips pressed to each ear, listening to some insane
>story about Greek gospel singers.
>I believe the dancing began in earnest shortly
>thereafter. The two crazy boys obviously also had
>crazy dances as well, which I managed to avoid. In
>fact, I managed to avoid most dancing for awhile. We
>were quite a scene, we were. And it was just so silly
>that I didn’t even care. The crazy boys made the place
>seem so much less intimidating. Eventually, after
>another drink and a few especially fantastic songs, I
>joined Joanna on the dance floor. Joanna, by the way,
>is quite a dancer. Adorable, as always. She had quite
>a few fans, I dare say. But I’ll return to that later.
>It was much fun. I believe I even did the Molly
>Ringwald. Yup. And whenever a B&S song was played,
>Joanna and I would bounce about singing every lyric.
>Actually, here’s the semi-disappointing thing, we were
>the ONLY ones singing every lyric. And people were
>staring at us in wonder, and I don’t think it was just
>because we were with this big wacky group and were the
>only ones dancing. They seemed intrigued and maybe
>impressed at our lyrical knowledge. Hmm. So maybe we
>didn’t really see any big fans after all. But it
>didn’t matter.
>Eventually, the crazy boys left, and we danced with
>other boys in the group, including two cuties - one
>who was moving to Wales the very next day, go figure.
>Other boys also joined the dancing. Among them was a
>group of indie boys who looked like they walked
>straight off the pages of MOC! Joanna spoke to one,
>who she had seen earlier on the subway and was
>convinced would be there. It was so much fun! Can I
>say that enough? No.
>I guess it should be said here that we were the only
>two girls dancing, which may explain the following.
>But perhaps not. A sketchy older man entered the club
>- there always has to be one, eh - and quickly
>stationed himself very close to Joanna. He was STARING
>in a very lecherous way, and following her around.
>Ack! He later approached us as we took a break near a
>window. “Belle and Sebastian is a very good group, no?
>Is your friend from somewhere else? Where?” (Was I
>that obviously a foreigner? Maybe it was the dancing.
>Or the crazy English rants of my insane new pals.)
>Joanna tried to be as rude as possible and he left.
>But he returned later to tell her she was the pop
>girl, and he would writer her a poem! My god. It was a
>very strange poem, of course. The guy was obviously
>COMPLETELY out of it. He later decided that dancing in
>a very strange way by himself in the middle of our
>dance floor was the way to our hearts. Right. Anyway,
>the whole incident made us bond that much more with
>our new group of friends. And we danced some more,
>until it was nearly 4 a.m. when Joanna really had to
>go. But I think we both could have stayed there,
>dancing. The boys escorted us out and partly home. We
>exchanged email addresses with one of the cuties, and
>were invited out again next Sunday for “post modern
>night” or something. We floated the rest of the way in
>a giddy state, agreeing that it was the most fun
>either of us has had in a long while.
>Okay, I’m going to shut up now and send this along to
>Joanna so she can get a word or two in. Maybe, if
>you’re extra nice, she’ll share the contents of her
>lovely poem. Hehehe.

JOAN OF DARK:
...so hear goes my bit....although i am well aware of the length of this 
post and that prolly even the few people that have managed to reach this 
point they'll abandon the ship this very moment....

"Thou Art The PoP gIrL And I Shalt Write You A Poem"

these are the very words of the nobly drunk and hallucinating probably 40 
something weirdo that approached me last night at Decadence and whispered 
them with a silly grin in my ear as i was dancing my brains out....

"HuH??" you 'll say, and this is what i said too....
" I shall write a poem for you cos the way you dance is an inspiration for 
everybody in this room..."<----weirdo
"Huh Huh??????"  <----me

so he withdraws and scribbles something on a scrap of paper...
after a while and while i was sitting, exchausted on the floor he came again 
and proudly gave me his work of art....
(please keep in mind that this is a product of severe alcoholism, overdose 
of drugs and long term sexual deprivation)

"You move enormously(???) and your eyes dance graceously
like the lull of the nettle's earrings swinging in the breeze
but when on the grass you sleep, your beloved with
poppies drip droplets of sweat
and cigarettes(joints perhaps??)hover in the air like butterflies...."

....surrealism....ouch!.....

so i said thanks mate , besides this is the first time i am the muse of an 
artist of such intellect......

last night i rediscovered the art and pleasure of Dancing. Oh Dog...havent 
danced in like months and now i went for straight 4 nonstop hours of PoP 
surrounded by cuuute boys in striped shirts...*giggle* dancing pop and tango 
and twist and shake , even the Indian Rain Dance....

How legs flow on the dance floor, how the body glides and slides between the 
auras and fluorescent glow of other dancers. When you half close your eyes 
and you get high on Pure Music when the last fibre of your body gets 
synchronised....and when you concentrate on that pair of eyes in front of 
you and the whole world spins around you....the whole world revolves around 
the mirrorball.....

this morning the songs of belle and sebastian did not sound the same on my 
headphones....they were different..they had swollen and had risen from their 
humbleness....they were blasted on speakers last night and filled time and 
space on a 4x5 dancefloor Belle and sebastian were not a figment of my 
imagination. A whispered secret. A complex ideology, hard to explain. They 
were walking proudly down the street in my head, chins up!

And Stacey, my lovely Stacey , that underwent the Indian dance of rain with 
the loony guys and all the pulling around, finally i managed to prove to her 
that Athens was not just what looks like to the casual onlooker...there is 
something different deep down..not just tight trousers and dyed hair...as 
the fuzzyhairybrain guy wxclaimed last night improvising a rap song: "STACEY 
STAY!!!!"

Btw: she's such a pleasant and happy person that can take away all your 
troubles with just one look of her gorgeous eyes....

i prolly dont make much sense..but for once in my  life i am truly 
exilerated...really happy...*joanna is bouncing on her chair*

sorry for the tremendous lenght of this...for any psychological traumas it 
might have caused you....in any case yer all invited to the post-podern 
night at Decadence club, Voulgaroktonou + Poulxerias 69 next Sunday around 
midnight!!

ta ra!

Stacey + Joan


PS:And Mr Brierley Random, since you got a mobile, high time you messaged 
(or massaged, it's all the same) me dont you think?

>=====
>Stacey Shackford
>Amoriou 14-16
>112 51 Athens, GREECE
>+30 97 328 9719
>www.geocities.com/dahling007


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