![\"\"](\"http:\/\/sanejoker.info\/content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/pamela-anderson-bikini-photoshoot-by-kim-carlsberg-baywatch-baywatch-2b8aa4c8d8d89710f0e2c7c7a99692fc-image-56011-1024x698.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
First part: “Stratos Dionysiou at Mount Sinai” http:\/\/sanejoker.info\/en\/2016\/10\/stratos-dionysiou-at-mount-sinai.html<\/a><\/p>\n ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<\/p>\n Time is way more mysterious than space. Einstein blundered by placing them as roommates, turned them into twin brothers and most of all conjoined them in one body like Siamese brothers, then coined the term \u201cspacetime\u201d and thought he was done.<\/p>\n But time is introvert and antisocial, hiding from all and sundry. Some say it doesn\u2019t even exist and occasionally time comes around to this point of view.<\/p>\n What is time? Past is gone, present is indeterminate (Now! No, it\u2019s gone\u2026Now! Gone again), future is yet to come.<\/p>\n So how on earth could you put time in the same room with the ever-present prosy space?<\/p>\n It is said that when Albert published the theory of general relativity, he received an anonymous note. The only words, with capital letters and threatening exclamation marks, were: STOP CALLING THE TIME CURVED!!<\/p>\n Something tells me that the sender was time itself.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ~~<\/p>\n When I entered the shed of Sinai, space was absent. I couldn\u2019t see anything. There was only time that counted the minutes in 4\/4 time.<\/p>\n There was also a smell, like an adolescent boy\u2019s room from the boondocks, who never ate madeleine or read Proust.<\/p>\n My eyes adjusted to the semi-light and the space emerged through time. Timothy was standing nearby with his gaze fixed on the corner, on the spot where the counter of time was to be heard.<\/p>\n It was an old man, half-naked and bald with a swollen nose. He held an opened copy of Playboy with his right hand and with the other worked his dick up and down, desperately and indifferently.<\/p>\n On the cover was Pamela Anderson, the Baywatch lifeguard, who moved to the rhythm of the jerk-off while her inflated boobs were not affected by the gravity whatsoever. Her orange life vest was of no use to man or beast in a place where no one ever drowned.<\/p>\n \u201cAquarius\u201d, it read beneath Pamela\u2019s hand, \u201ca short story by Don Delillo\u201d.<\/p>\n Within seconds I thought that I would like to read Delillo\u2019s story, I thought that many renowned American writers had sold stories to playboy magazine, I asked myself how much money did they get for doing so, then I thought that it makes no difference to sell your stories or the pictures of your naked body to playboy, then I wondered who was most exposed, Delillo or Anderson, I wondered who prostitutes themselves most, the writer or the model, then I came to the conclusion that everything is art and maya and nothing is worthier than this and then I stopped thinking because I got tired.<\/p>\n Timothy was standing next to me but I don’t know what was going through his head. Maybe nothing, perhaps he was tired, too. Maybe his eyes alone were still in service.<\/p>\n We didn\u2019t talk. What could we possibly say to each other?<\/p>\n The old man carried on with his occupation, then he turned the page and began to read (perhaps Delillo\u2019s story)<\/p>\n -\u201cDo you speak English?\u201d asked Timothy. As soon as he finished his sentence, he sprang to his feet and made strange movements, as if he was trying to touch the wall and something repelled him.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s make it to the Sinai Mountain\u201d, said Timothy.<\/p>\n -\u201cSinai, magpie, bonsai, don\u2019t cry\u201d said the old man and laughed. \u201cSinai, goodbye\u201d.<\/p>\n Timothy swilled around to look at me. His hands and face made a question mark, as if he was asking me what was going on.<\/p>\n -\u201cThere is nothing to understand\u201d, the old man told him. You are used to measure the world with your words and their order, but they are nothing but words, horseshit. Suddenly, like a lightning, I realized that I wasn\u2019t talking to a man who cared one whit about the things that should be said, about all these typical words.<\/p>\n -\u201cWhat did you choose?\u201d I asked him.<\/p>\n He gave a laugh and came closer to me. He meant to touch me but withdrew his fingers when they were one centimeter away from my face.<\/p>\n \u201cWe choose nothing\u201d the old man said. We are bound to be either slaves or servants or masters. But there is no freedom. You are already something before you even talk. You live in this world since the day you were born and you are recorded in the registry office. Freedom is an empty word, as empty as the person you must be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDidn\u2019t you choose to come here?\u201d asked Timothy politely.<\/p>\n The old man relapsed into his strange movements and curses.<\/p>\n -\u201cSingular, Timothy. He\u2019s only one.\u201d The old man laughed. -\u201cI\u2019m alone\u201d, the old man said. \u201cI\u2019m not a hermit. But I don\u2019t want to see people, I\u2019m sick of you.\u201d He was barking mad, nevertheless he was right, too. The photograph of a human is not human, ceci n\u2019 est pas une pipe, the painted breads don\u2019t fall and the silicone lifeguard wasn\u2019t exactly human.<\/p>\n -\u201cHow long are you here?\u201d His gaze was fixed on a spot behind our backs and out of the shed. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ~~<\/p>\n The truth is, we were in Sinai to find trace of our grandfather, Dogas. In 1953, when CIA had conducted a coup in Iran, Timothy Seaman \u2013 his American name \u2013 had settled in Raitho, known as El-Tor, the port of Sinai.<\/p>\n Timothy, the grandson, called me and he proposed me a trip to Raitho.<\/p>\n -\u201cWhere is this?\u201d I had asked. When you are offered a free trip, you just can\u2019t let it go. Besides, I was dead keen to learn more about this weird guy Dogas, the gangster who became an agent and he is probably my grandfather.<\/p>\n I would see the monastery Kazantzakis described and I would walk on one of the most sacred mountains \u2013 for all three religions. I couldn\u2019t find a good reason to decline the offer.<\/p>\n With hindsight, I\u2019d rather gone to Alexandria of Imathia.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ~~<\/p>\n -\u201cWhat are the words of the sand?\u201d asked Timothy the old man.<\/p>\n He withered and sat on the floor.<\/p>\n -\u201cI shouldn\u2019t have told you. But\u2026if you talk about these things, you can\u2019t lie.\u00a0 You can avoid seeing them but I must tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n It became quiet. Only the dog scratching itself could be heard and from afar something like the sound of angels\u2019 trumpets. Then the old man spoke.<\/p>\n -\u201cJesus of Nazareth before become Christ, lived for a month at Sinai. He fought his demons, himself and triumphed. He defeated delusions and time. When he emerged from the cave, he was aware that he would be crucified and deified. He knew everything about the men. Before he set off to Israel, he wrote the only words he ever did. They are there, in the cave, the only words that God himself ever wrote.\u201d<\/p>\n And he fell silent.<\/p>\n I felt like laughing and swilled around to look Timothy. He didn\u2019t seem to be remotely amused.<\/p>\n -\u201cWhere is this cave?\u201d he asked the old man. Only then he turned around to look at me. I asked him to go out for a minute. The dog was scratching itself and the sound of the angels\u2019 trumpets was the bus\u2019s horn. The damage was repaired and they waited for us. But Timothy seemed to be lost.<\/p>\n -\u201cDon\u2019t tell me that you believe all this bullshit the screwball says\u201d I told him. The only words that Christ ever wrote? Christ, if he ever existed, never wrote a single word.\u201d Without answering me, he entered the shed again. I followed him while the bus kept calling us.<\/p>\n -\u201cHow did his words remain intact on the sand?\u201d he asked the old man. He elaborated with an unbecoming soberness with regard to his madness. In Sinai it scarcely rains. Moisture is just above zero. The wind can\u2019t reach the inner of the cave. The mission of Sandistess is to preserve things that perish. Maria Magdalene had selected right from the start women who didn\u2019t know Aramaic. And so it is, up to this day. In this way, nuns can\u2019t read the words on the sand, the words of Jesus, neither alter them.<\/p>\n To them, they are meaningless markings and they preserve them exactly as they found them; for if they did, they might modify them.<\/p>\n \u201cIf they could understand them, they would have eliminated them\u201d the old man said. \u201cSo, that no man could ever read them.\u201d The old man turned his gaze towards me.<\/p>\n -\u201cYou have a boy, is that so?\u201d It was Timothy who spoke. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n -\u201cMay God give you strength to endure this\u201d, the old man said.<\/p>\n Then he lay on the straw bed and turned his back on us.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ~~<\/p>\n We got out again. Then sun was almost set, the dog was meditating and scratching itself and the bus was trumpeting. We walked speechless in its direction.<\/p>\n -\u201cA little longer and I would leave you behind\u201d, said Tasos when we climbed the bus and he started the engine.<\/p>\n We took our seats behind the driver.<\/p>\n -\u201cDid you find the saint?\u201d asked the guy who was in charge of the group. Tasos, the driver, greeted these words with a laughter.<\/p>\n -\u201cStratos had sung about everything\u201d, and he put on the ninth song:<\/p>\n I ask \u201cwhere do you take me, my heart?\u201d ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<\/p>\n to be continued<\/p>\n First part: “Stratos Dionysiou at Mount Sinai” http:\/\/sanejoker.info\/en\/2016\/10\/stratos-dionysiou-at-mount-sinai.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Time is way more mysterious than space. Einstein blundered by placing them as roommates, turned them into twin brothers and most of all conjoined them in one body like Siamese brothers, then coined the term \u201cspacetime\u201d and thought he was done. But time is introvert and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":43335,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[74,258],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-54143","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-engish-version","category-thalatta"],"yoast_head":"\n
\n-\u201cFuck your mother\u2019s pussy\u201d, said the old man in fluent Greek.
\n-\u201cAre you Greek?\u201d I asked politely in plural form.
\n-\u201cDo you see a lot of people in here?\u201d
\n-\u201cYou mean Greeks?\u201d
\n-\u201cAre you a moron?\u201d he asked me. \u201cWhat is this, a new Attica dialect?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cDo you have a name?\u201d I asked him in singular form, the way he wanted it.
\n-\u201cI once had\u201d he said. \u201cWhen I lived in the world, they called me something. But it doesn\u2019t matter. I didn\u2019t choose my name\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cRight, singular. Didn\u2019t you choose to be a hermit?\u201d said Timothy.<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cA hermit? Who told you that I\u2019m a hermit?\u201d
\nTimothy showed with his hands the shed.<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cThen what about this?\u201d I told him pointing Pamela Anderson.
\n-\u201cThis is no human.\u201d
\n-\u201cIs it\u2026a woman?\u201d
\n-\u201cNo, you dimwit, it is a picture.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter either\u201d
\n-What does?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cThe words\u201d, he said. The words of the sand. That\u2019s why you also came here, right? Keep away, don\u2019t see them, don\u2019t read them, no one can go on, nobody can take moving on once they read them.<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cIn Sinai Peninsula.\u201d
\n-\u201cIt sounds nice but right now the money I have suffice for a trip to Alexandria; I mean the one in Imathia of Greece, not the one in Egypt.
\n-\u201cDon\u2019t worry about money.\u201d
\n-\u201cI wouldn\u2019t, if I had more of it.\u201d
\n-\u201cI will deduct the money as expenses for a research I am supposed to do about the Aramaic language and its impact on sociopolitical attitudes.\u201d
\n-\u201cAnd how do I fit in?\u201d
\n-\u201cYou will be my assistant. You can speak Arabic, can\u2019t you?\u201d
\n-\u201cFluently. La ilaha illallah Muhammadur Rasulullah.
\n-\u201cYou\u2019d better not utter these words in Egypt.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cHold on Timothy, wait a minute, it just can\u2019t\u2026\u201d
\n-\u201cYou have to walk half the day from the port towards the north. There is no road and the camels can\u2019t go, something repels them.
\n-\u201cTimothy\u201d
\n-\u201cThe Sandistess will find you.\u201d
\n-\u201cTimothy\u201d
\n-\u201cTheir Order exists since Jesus\u2019 crucifixion. The first abbess was Maria Magdalene herself.
\n-\u201cTIMOTHY!\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cHow do you know this?\u201d
\n-\u201cHow do I know this? Had he written anything we would know, it would be the best seller of archaeology. Is it possible?\u201d
\n-\u201cYou became much too rationalist in the blink of an eye.\u201d
\n-\u201cI guess it is because I have to deal with irrationalists. I adapt myself to keep the balance. Give it some thought: Did he write something on the sand? Two thousand years ago? And it\u2019s still there?\u201d
\n-\u201cYes, this is odd.\u201d
\n-\u201cOnly this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cThis is the monks\u2019 mission.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cDid you?\u201d Timothy asked him.
\n-\u201cI wish I didn\u2019t.\u201d
\n-\u201cWhat do they read?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cYes, and\u2026\u201d
\n-\u201cA boy.\u201d
\n-\u201cYes but, OK, the 50%…\u201d
\n-\u201cDon\u2019t go.\u201d
\n-\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n-\u201cDon\u2019t go in the cave, don\u2019t read the Words of the Sand. Go back to your child.\u201d
\n-\u201cDon\u2019t worry, I don\u2019t know Aramaic, neither I\u2019m in the mood for\u2026
\n-\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n-\u201cSaint?\u201d
\n-\u201cYes, it is not unusual somebody to be sanctified prior to their death in Coptic Church.
\n-\u201cMore like a madman in my book\u201d, I told him.
\n-\u201cA saint has no conscience of his holiness\u201d said a fart behind me.
\n-\u201cThe mad of his madness, ditto.\u201d
\n-\u201cThat\u2019s why we are all mad. Mad is someone who can\u2019t accept they live in a mad world\u201d.<\/p>\n
\nand answers \u201cto your missing part\u201d
\nBetter off along with you, insane
\nthan apart from you and sane<\/p>\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<\/h4>\n
Sanejoker’s Facebook Page:<\/strong><\/span>
\nhttps:\/\/www.facebook.com\/sanejoker\/<\/span><\/span><\/a><\/strong><\/h2>\nTranslated by Alexandros Mantas<\/strong><\/span>
\nhttps:\/\/residuosmentales.bandcamp.com\/releases<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n\u00a0<\/strong><\/h3>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"