Spring.

After a month and a half of sailing through the ocean, a boat arrived in a NYC harbor with 50 boxes full of artifacts of my past lives. Re-invention, interrupted.

Starter wife: A man’s first wife that marries out of love and helps him achieve wealth, power, etc, but is then promptly discarded upon reaching said goal, for a younger, more attractive woman.

Shooting at the Hamptons. Sunny, but the wind is cold.
He takes pictures, after each one is done, we move on to the next, a change of outfit, change the hair, refresh the makeup, etc.
I often get a feeling that if I fail to give good hair for a shot, they will kill me or somehow I will die, like being held hostage.
Heart is pounding.

One day, these 50 videos of Summer of 09′, will no longer be unbearable to watch.
And then, I might be able to make some sense of Summer of 09′. And the life of 73′.

Estella: Well?
Pip: Well, Miss?
Estella: Am I pretty?
Pip: Yes, I think you are very pretty.
Estella: Am I insulting?
Pip: No. Not so much so as you were Last time.
Estella: Not so much?
Pip: No.

*SLAP*

Estella: Now take that, you coarse little monster. What do you think of me now?
Pip: I shan’t tell you.

Video interview I did a few months ago for my new movie “Tied Red Thread” which came out yesterday.
[note to self: don’t agree to a video interview after a 17 hour location shooting day. #busted]

I’m on a plane back to NYC. Many things to share but I don’t trust you anymore dear Diary, you run your mouth. So I’ll just tell you that food is about to get served and that I like stripes.

i’m sitting on the floor of a dark, empty, echo-y, dirty room, eating stuffed vine leaves with my fingers out of a can. i wiped my mouf with the store receipt. #ghetto

The movers just left with my things. I feel like I’ve been butt raped by a rabid gang of inbred gorillas and left for dead. Only worse.

Also, it may be illegal but I’ll be hiding hiding in my luggage to New York (some of) my beloved lilac tree.

It took a whole week to close up and purge and be done with my huge ass apartment in Athens, now the movers are coming tomorrow. All my stuff will be on a NYC-bound ship for 3 weeks, bravely sailing across the scary atlantic seas. So romantic.

I had totally forgotten about her, hidden behind weeds in the veranda. You’re coming with me, missy.
[She’ll be getting a new weave in NYC. I’m thinking lilacs.]

As I pack up my apartment in Greece, it’s utterly brutal to come across my helmet from my movie Delivery, my Oswald pipe from Ibsen’s Ghosts and my Carl costume from Sarah Kane’s Cleansed, complete with severed prop tongues and some sand I kept from that swampy pit set.

Back in Athens to close up my apartment. Like a surreal bad dream.
In a few days, my cats and I, will be on a NYC airplane out of here, forever.

The devastating thing about wholeheartedly yearning for something for years, is that sometimes you receive it. And it turns out to have been your own evilest trap.

I want to walk into a forest and sleep on the ground.

This place is a jungle.

Ash Wednesday on a Friday.

´ΑΛΜΑΤΑ (σημειωτόν).

Reunited with one of favorite childhood films.

I set up an email acount that I email messages to myself. A new low (or is it high?) in loneliness.
About to go to dinner, with a huge headache.
I must ask mmhhmm to send me mmmhmm.

No no. Greeks are such crude, backward, primitively sentimental, perpetually dishonest, unintelligently competitive and fundamentally lazy people, they deserved much worse and they will receive it. Stfu losers and get the fuck out.

Implosion.

Right about now I start feeling like Imma cut a bitch. Or maybe a fire.

Filming is progressing,
relishing every second.
The mountain is lonely.
The Australians are lovely.

Woke up early. It was dead silent and there were clouds atop the mountains.
Then, breakfast of champions, eggs and wifi.

We flew to the location today. Day 1 for me on Dead Europe. Working with Tony is an immense pleasure. Staying in the quaintest chalet. The vegetables and the cheese are orgasmic in this village. It’s 9pm and already in bed.

i’m officially giving up trying to be good.
I’m not, never been. It’s not me.
Deal.