Wednesday, 19th March 1997
This evening my cousin Chryssa paid us a visit together with George, her husband. He is a nice, good-looking and sensible guy; moreover, he is quite wealthy and he has a good job in a big TV channel. The couple have a cute son who is three years old now.
I am really happy about Chryssa, whose life has changed radically within a few years' time: Four years ago, that is before meeting George, she used to live in a small apartment in Kato Patissia and worked as a phototypesetter in a tiny, dark, stuffy printing-office, which was full of rotten paper and huge mice. She was 34 years old then, but she was still single. Moreover, she suffered from systematic lupus erythematosus, a very serious blood disease.
It was about then that Chryssa visited the Monastery of Panagia Malevi in Peloponnese and bowed before the miraculous, myrrh-flowing icon of Virgin Mary, hoping for a miracle. Indeed, her disease has been under control ever since (with medication, of course) and it doesn't bother her any more. Then she happened to meet George, who fell in love with her, despite her illness, and married her six months later, while my cousin was already pregnant.
Chryssa doesn't work anymore, as her husband earns enough to support her and their child. She has let out her apartment in Kato Patissia, and she lives with her family in a spacious, sunny house in the luxurious suburb of Kifissia.
Naturally I feel happy about my cousin, yet I have started to suspect that all human beings, even the most miserable ones, sooner or later, more or less, find what they are looking for. Everybody settles down in the long run – everybody but me and I can't understand why: I believe in God too and I have visited quite a few miraculous churches...
Monday, 24th March 1997
Blond Annie, the 17-year-old slut in taekwondo, knows how to make all men pay attention to her: “I don't know a thing, show me!” she is always mewing and some simpleton will run to “show” her.
As about me, I am like non-existent in there, although I have been going there for almost three months. For some strange reason none of my classmates approaches me except Mary, a 16-year-old girl with whom I chat before the lesson begins. I have tried many times to start a conversation with the others but their extreme frigidity puts me to flight. I can also sense they underestimate and talk about me because I can't perform certain exercises right; for instance, I can't jump over the back of a standing chair or skip the rope 200 times in a minute. Especially my “dollyo chagi” (side kick), which is rather low, causes lots of ironic smiles and remarks. Anyway, I can't understand why they mind so much; after all, I don't intend to become a champion; I only want to work out.
Who gets most on my nerves is Ellie, a 40-year-old diva who seems to be in command in there. Subtly but clearly she observes and controls everything, while they all gather around her “like a big, happy family”. All but me. I can't tell why, but I am always left out. She often arranges outings with all the others, and I am the only one who's never invited. Yet, they always make sure I learn what a wonderful time they've had.
This is what happens every time: Wherever I am, the arch-harlots brand me as “unwanted” and that's it: I am always at the bottom, everyone looks down on me and they fight me until I am eliminated like waste matter. Nevertheless, what I have achieved so far (I have a permanent job, some friends, I work out regularly, I am active in metaphysics) is due to superhuman will and strength of character. Indeed, which “normal” person would go on doing anything, if they faced turned backs and closed doors everywhere? Anybody else in my place would have ended up either in a lunatic asylum or in a cemetery. But I am still here and I persevere...
Human Nature and Fate: The three basic components of the human soul are Wickedness, Cunning and Lust. This is the substratum of all human thoughts, feelings, inspirations and actions.
Lust is the corruption of the body. It is the human innate inclination to enjoy abnormal sex and use it as a means of social ascension. Especially to women, it is a must. A woman without “femininity” (a natural talent for harlotry) is considered to be less than zero. What do we mean when we say that a woman is “smart”? We mean she addicts a man to perversions in order to keep him. Lust rules humanity secretly, like a slimy undercurrent which permeates everything in our society.
Cunning is the corruption of the mind. It is the human innate inclination to satanic inspirations, machinations, intrigues, and underhand dealings. It has nothing to do with intelligence ‒ on the contrary, it is much more manifest in persons of mean or low intelligence, and it is thanks to cunning that the mediocre often supplant the excellent.
Wickedness is the corruption of the soul. This element dominates over the two previous ones and it is the human innate inclination to do the biggest possible evil to animate beings or inanimate things. It is said that humans become wicked and do evil so as to get more money and a higher social status. That's wrong: Human beings are evil by nature and they like causing pain to those who happen to be weaker. Of, course, they always find plenty of other excuses: success in business, increase of wealth, religious, racial or political discrimination etc.
If the above mentioned three elements aren't strong enough in a person, sooner or later he or she is driven out of the human society, like a foreign body. Anyway, it is commonly known that “no good deed goes unpunished”. Moreover, the righteous are constantly dogged by all kinds of misfortunes. The more wicked, cunning, perverted you are, the more wealthy, successful, loved you will be.
On the other hand, nobody can say they lack these three characteristics completely; without them, even in a small degree, nobody survives infancy.
... That's why human beings have always rallied against me, launching all kinds of psychic attacks on me, subconsciously aiming either to drive me mad or make me commit suicide: For some strange reason, wickedness, cunning and lust are not sufficiently developed in me. I just don't have it and I can't get it. I imagine this is due to some peculiarity of my DNA. Lust is innate in human beings but not in me...
The war against me has become more subtle recently: I am not derided on the roads anymore, neither am I isolated; yet, they fight me in other, more complicate ways: Sooner or later, all my friends prove to be hypocrites or miserable; at work I am always at the lowest possible position and I take the lowest possible salary. In general, whatever I try to do soon results to a flop. Nevertheless, as Helen Roussos and Mary Skina (two good colleagues at work) admit, I do have achieved something in life: I have managed not to become a “hen with money”, like all those rich women who live in their opulent boredom, pretending they have no idea what dirty business their husbands are involved in...
Friday, 28th March 1997
At last! One of the uncountable (and usually dead-end) ideas I come up with in order to improve my life has just brought a result! Having found out recently that the monthly magazine “Greek Fantasy” publishes short fantasy stories of new writers, I thought of sending them one. This magazine doesn't sell much, but I don't care. So, I corrected and sent them an old story of mine titled “Escape from the Tower of Eons”, and it was included in the issue of March! Certainly, this isn't a terrific success, but it is an unprecedented victory for me! I am on cloud nine!
However Josef, my younger nephew, doesn't seem to be happy about this success of mine. On the contrary, he looks angry and annoyed, as if he were jealous! Although he is only seven, he often shows such malice and arrogance which is rare even in adults. Anyway, at a moment he found a black pen and the opportunity to smudge two of the three pages of my published story! When I saw that, I flew off the handle! The little monster managed to stain the only success I've had in my life insofar!
A little later I found him in our yard smirking at me mockingly. Full of rage and frustration, I told him: “I'm never going to forgive you for what you've done! From now on I don't consider you a nephew of mine!” And I meant it. Detail: No matter how hard I tried, I wasn't able to find another issue of this magazine in the kiosks...
Sunday, 4th May 1997
&nb
sp; Night Adventure: Hora is a beautiful, magical country; a picturesque river with blue gargling water and carved banks flows through it. Nevertheless, evil invades little by little. “How shall we stop it?” the princess wonders. Soon I explore an underwater cavity, the Cave of Amphitrite, which has been kept secret for centuries. I observe the marble relief frescoes, the finely carved ceiling, the strange stalagmites with ivory snakes coiled around them. I think I might find something helpful in here.
Prophetic Dream: Dry, barren land stretches before me, somewhere in Somalia. I shudder with horror as I see the hungry disinterring the dead in order to eat them. Interpretation: Next morning I get a phone call from Emmanuel. He says he has thought a lot during these seven months we haven't met, he has changed his way of life, and he wants to see me again. I automatically refuse and tell him I will call him back, but I don't intend to do anything like that; I don't trust him, anyway. As about the symbolism of the dream: He is hungry for sex, I am dead for sex...
Wednesday, 7th May 1997
Night Adventure: In the basement of Nicky's school there is an underground hangar full of aeroplanes. I, as well as some of my classmates, get down there through a secret passage which reminds of a slide. We soon reach Nicky's asram on the chinese mountains. The landscape is magical. The master has a very big, impressive taekwondo school there. It is built with glass slabs which reflect the sunlight. The luxury of the edifice astonishes me. We go inside and Nicky shows us some old, precious black belts and other important objects.
Then we come out of the glass building and walk to the top of a nearby hill, where we find a strange lake with black water. A huge, ugly turtle emerges out of the dark lake slowly. We go away slowly and we wonder why Nicky wanted us to see that...
Monday, 12th May 1997
Early in the morning, as soon as I get to work, Mrs Magda Stavrakis (another super educated lady who was hired three months ago, so as to occupy herself with ''The Unknown History of Christianity''), comes into my office. I find it strange when she asks me to go to a nearby mini market and buy a packet of coffee for her; she has always been polite to me and she has never sent me on errands so far -in contrast to some other important persons in the company.
Later on, Mrs Parissis comes into my office and asks about some letters she gave me to type yesterday afternoon. I have already finished them but I am printing them right now. “They will be ready in two minutes” I assure her but, instead of waiting a little, she just disappears.
In less than two minutes, my phone rings; it is Mr Gryparis, the managing director: “Have you got any untyped texts of Mrs Parissis?” he asks.
“No, nothing, some letters she gave me yesterday are ready now,” I explain.
At that moment Mrs Stavrakis rushes into my office.
“Yvonne, what time did you arrive at work this morning?” she asks.
“At 9:20,” I answer calmly.
No employee comes to Pangaea earlier than 9:30 every morning.
A little later, Mrs Stavrakis informs me that shrew of Parissis went to the managing director and told him “This morning Yvonne was half an hour absent from her office!” – that's when I was out to buy Mrs Stavrakis some coffee. Anyway, she assures me she has backed me up to Mr Gryparis by explaining to him the reason for my absence.
“Nevertheless, the fact that yesterday you worked overtime till 8:00 o'clock (because of Parissis' demands) doesn't excuse your coming late to work!” she adds stern.
“But I never come later than the others!” I retort.
After an hour or so Mrs Stavrakis appears again and tells me that “Parissis is talking about you all the time! She is furious at you! She is always accusing you of everything! She is even claiming you have refused to type some entries about ''Christianity'' for her!”
“But... she hasn't given me any entries lately!” I protest.
“She has them in her hands and says she gave them to you but you brought them back untyped and left them on her desk without telling her anything!”
“That's a lie!” I insist.
All those who hear the story show me their understanding, although some times they seem to be enigmatic: “Parissis is not bad! She just needs some politeness!” says Rita, a serious and kind colleague with whom I get along quite well. I don't know what's going on in my workplace anymore, but I don't like the atmosphere around me; something is very, very wrong...
Wednesday, 14th May 1997
Lucid Dream: I am in a strange funfair whose buildings remind of famous churches such as San Marco of Venice, Saint Basil of Moscow etc. I fly into a church of Gothic style; it is very beautiful, with impressive icons and carved pews, and it is all decorated with white roses. I make the sign of the cross, then I fly out. I look back, I admire the church again, I feel nice. Finally, I shut my eyes, I change the dream into a meditation exercise and ask for the one and only truth. Right then, I feel as though I were carried away violently; fear stops me for a moment but what follows is a...
Psychic Experience: All at once I come out of my physical body. I can feel a kind of airstream penetrating my body; in the beginning it fills me up, then I feel as if I were torn apart - it is an ecstatic sensation. Then I fall into very deep hypnosis, I black out, I feel my heart stopping, I cause a hasty awakening...
Friday, 23rd May 1997
Helen Tandoulou has invited me to a birthday party tonight. Her old friend, Clair, turns 26 today and she is having a celebration. So, at 8:00 o' clock in the evening all three of us -Helen, her brother and I- arrive at Clair's two-storeyed house in Kalamaki. My friend is holding three (counted!) roses in her hands as a present. “Don't mind about bringing a present. I will see to it!” she had reassured me when we talked on the phone earlier in the afternoon.
At first sight, what impresses me most is the luxury of the place: The neoclassical building is well-preserved and it has a small flowery garden. Inside, the atmosphere is cosy, friendly, decent – nothing like other stupid celebrations I have been to so far, where everyone put on airs and looked at me askance. Almost immediately we start chatting with two unknown girls and then we get to know some other people.
There follow unprecedented experiences to me: I have pleasant conversations with many lively persons, without seeing in them the suspicion and contempt I usually confront when I am in other circles of people. Even that retard of Vlassis doesn't seem to be such a misfit here: He is smiling and talking freely maybe because, in this large and well-disposed party, his sister's despotic presence can't upstage him.
Before long I notice George, Clair's gorgeous brother. He is 31 years old, tall, with a trained lean body and an attractive face; he has blond hair and brown eyes. He looks calm, balanced, intellectual -entirely different to the men I've met so far. He is an undergraduate of medicine school, confident of himself but not arrogant. Moreover, he shows his interest in me, he makes a kind compliment about my appearance, he accosts me without getting pushy, ridiculous or vulgar. “What counts most in a relationship is that mates inspire each other,” he says at a moment. I feel wonderful as I respond spontaneously to this mutual love attraction; it's something I've never experienced before.
Later we join the others and we all continue chatting and having fun till 2:00 after midnight. We get along very well and we finally agree to meet tomorrow. I suggest we arrange where and when right away, but the others prefer to do that on the phone next morning. I don't insist, nor does George do anything to push things; he probably doesn't want to show impatience.
There comes the time for me to leave, together with Helen and Vlassis, and I still haven't exchanged telephone numbers with George. In two words, I rely on my friend to act as a go-between and arrange the meeting with our new friends. I bid farewell to George with a warm handshake, reminding him that “We'll talk again tomorrow”. When I leave the house, I feel upset but happy. Maybe this is the night that could change my life, I ponder.
Saturday, 24th May 1997
All morning I've been wa
iting impatiently for Helen to call me. She does phone me at about noon and after a meaningless prologue of twenty minutes, she cheerfully suggests we meet in Kolonaki, right away, in broad daylight – that is, she and I together, just the two of us, without George or anyone else from yesterday's party! As she explains then, she hasn't been able to find him or his sister on the phone. According to what she says, none of the friendly people we met yesterday has communicated with her up to now.
“As far as I've heard, he has a girlfriend in Patras, where he studies medicine,” Helen says cheerfully, as we walk down Kolonaki Square. “Anyway, what is a would-be doctor good for? You should wait for him to finish his studies, and that could take ages! Like an old friend of mine, who had an affair with a medicine student, she waited for him to take his diploma, she even helped him financially to open his surgery, and in the end he dumped her! So, what did you expect? It's a fortunate thing that he hasn't called!” she concludes with a shrieking voice and her usual air of importance.
It occurs to me maybe Helen is lying and sabotaged my meeting with George, yet I prefer to suppress this suspicion quickly. Anyway, there is no proof about that, besides I can't imagine she could be so mean.
“I have no reason to lie to you,” she assures me, as if she could read my mind. “Besides, I don't fancy that guy, I don't want him for myself!”
I know this is true, because Helen never shows the slightest interest in men, not even platonic. Whenever I confide in her I like some stranger on the road, she says scornfully: “Only silly women fancy such men!”
Therefore, there is nothing else to do; I can only accept the situation passively, as something I actually expected. “It was too good to be true,” my mother will admit later, when I explain to her the whole story. And life (?) goes on...
The past is an invaluable treasure
well hidden in the creases of time.
A treasure which sparkles weaker and weaker
as time goes by and I sink fast into the night
deeper and deeper into the night...
Chapter 11: Fateful Summer