quasi-chemical reaction

Bilingual by Jose Nunez.

Taking the concept of love as a chemical reaction to a higher level.

"The only aphrodisiac I need is your voice."

(aka)

Your voice triggers the secretion of endorphins

and other chemicals that make me

wanna jump you.

Lolita night

The much-anticipated screening of Lolita to my honour (by my own self) finally happened last night, and attracted the entire family much to my surprise.

Lolita's red, heart-shaped, ostentatious glasses that feature in my blog's image were absent, to my great disappointment, as the film was in black and white. Which I don't mind it's just I love those sunglasses.

So, the film vs. the book.

I kept feeling the need of filling people in about what Humbert Humbert had confessed to me through Nabokov's magnificent penmanship in the novel, stuff that couldn't be included in a film version. Either because they were too explicit, or because a film, as a study of an individual's psychology, is bound to be less in-depth than a document written by the character itself - or a novel using the premise that it is a type of journal of the central character.

James Mason however carried across the shifting thoughts and moods of Humbert excellently. Kubrick's direction made the shifts even more obvious - as in, traceable - but still subtle enough to show the interiority of his mind's processes. The 'Englishness' and vanity of Humbert Humbert were excellently portrayed, although I thought that some major scenes that shift the 'blame' of the affair towards Humbert (and are so poignant in the book, those voltas through which you escape H.H's perspective and realize that Lolita is actually tormented by their relationship) were left out. I know that Kubrick was aware of the affect censorship had on the film - he once mentioned that had he known how much of it had to be cut he would never had done it (Stanley Kubrick, A Life in Pictures) - but the part where he rocks Lolita on his knees and gets aroused or hints that show that Lolita cries every night when travelling with him I thought were essential to show the dynamic between the two characters.

As it was, Lolita, played by the gorgeous Sue Lyon, was the temptress... The scene that is supposed to show the audience how their physical relationship began went somewhat like this:

Lo: Do you wanna play a game?

HH: What game?

Lo: One that I played in camp.

HH: What do you mean?

Lo: Guess.

HH: (typically) I'm not good at guessing.

Lo: You know what game I'm talking about.

HH: (pause, terrified)

and then Lo whispers something we presume is profane in his ear - if not profane something sexual - she initiates it, it seems.

But I don't think that's what the book wanted the reader to see. Yes, the child is a manipulative brat - but she is nonetheless a child. Lyon's physical appearance of course raised the impression of Lolita's age to around 15 or 16, making the whole affair less of a shock and more of a "she was asking for it" thing.

The end, I believe, hit a perfect balance. When HH visits Lolita's home and she is pregnant, Kubrick and his cast succeed in capturing what I felt the book captured in those final scenes. She is above him, and although only 17 she controls him and is more in control than him. Humbert Humbert breaks down in tears - the grand male in his grand, old world coat with his big fat cheque - while Lolita asks him not to. A reversal of an earlier scene when Lolita is bawling after finding out her mother was dead and Humbert nurses her in his arms, half-father half-lover, and asks her to "Try to stop crying"?

Peter Sellers' role as Clare Quilty was good - a dark side of Sellers - but too much. Clare Quilty is a big part of the novel but not THAT big. I didn't feel like a one-man-show by Sellers was needed. His speeches dragged on a bit. And although the first scene of the film (and last basic scene of the novel) was excellent, with Peter Sellers showing Quilty's decadent, even perverse side, it established an underlying theme of Humbert vs. Quilty that took on a greater dimension than I expected. The novel is not about Humbert's manhood vs. Quilty's - its more about what goes on in HUmbert's head and between him and Lolita - and so I thought that that interpretation compromised the subtlety of the film and shifted attention from the central locus of the novel.

tropical topical

The light woke me up, at 9am. I can't stand the light when I dream, it washes out all the pictures and the prolonged oblivion we call sleep.

Three hours before this unpleasant wake up call I had been juggling my aces, kings and queens, but what combination could change the final outcome?

Which I didn't expect to be waking up at 9am. In any case, there we were, lying in sweat and on green sheets, with bronchitis passing to and fro between us. Apparently we made each other ill.

...

Ill with love, baby

I knew you'd come for me, Frank. Even if it was in the shape of bacteria.

American crime novels have gotten into our heads.

Rapprochement

So I came back from the UK on Sunday - last Sunday - and began work at a newspaper - The Cyprus Mail - on Monday. A bit crazy when you think of it (will there be no lazy pause after the examination period from hell?) but a good choice nonetheless.

One of my first assignments was to cover a talk about education and its importance for rapprochement in Cyprus. Mrs. Androulla Vassiliou (the European Union Commissioner for Education, Culture, Multilingualism and Youth) was guest of honour and the talk also featured representatives by OELMEK (the Greek-Cypriot high school teachers union), POED (the Greek-Cypriot primary school teachers union) and the two Turkish Cypriot teachers' trade unions.

All I heard was the same old recording replayed, European Union-style. Witty word play such as "Education needs peace and peace needs education" and "We must turn the wrongs of yesterday into the rights of today, and not the rights of yesterday into the wrongs of today" covered up the lack of actual substance of the discussion.

In the presence of the EU Commissioner, no Cypriot teacher, Turkish or Greek speaking, would admit to the fact that we've reached a stalemate when it comes to the Cyprus problem, and to the ability of education to stir the sinking ship that is the Cypriot society of today. As pointed out by the Polish Ambassador who was among the audience, we should have had this discussion 15 years ago.

But we probably did, one way or another. We probably have had this discussion 20 years ago, 15 years ago, 10 years ago, 5 years ago, 4, 3, 2, 1 year ago. What were the results? And I don't mean the intellectual, momentary glimpses of ideas that occur to the small number of people attending such events, like myself, that vanish in the thick, humid summer air in Nicosia. I'm talking about results that are tangible and have contributed to some sort of change on the island.

Of course the teachers told us all about the bi-communal events that public schools undertake in Cyprus. The OELMEK person told us about the Ayios Antonios school in Limassol that has both Turkish and Greek Cypriots in the same classes doing the same subjects. I must admit this was encouraging. But what is one school in so many? And how are we to believe that state schools will become like that, when even the English School, a private school with a longstanding bi-communal history, is so often abused by the islnd's nationalists that won't just let it be?

Am I to believe, Mr. OELMEK, that the utopian model that Ayios Antonios represents will become the blueprint for all public schools in Cyprus? You almost got me fooled there. This is a typical maneuver. We want to seem as if we're trying, we want to appear like we want a solution and so we get these conservative teacher representatives at such events that try so hard to seem liberal, willing to help in education reform, when in fact they probably go to bed at night wishing all Turkish Cypriots would vanish from the face of the earth.

Sadly, their performance is weak. The OELMEK guy, an anachronism from the eighties, with gray-tinted glasses and long, sparse hair, ungroomed, recited his little 'education for peace' poem with as much conviction as my baby brother's when he claims to be sorry for eating an entire pot of Nutella. We do not believe you, Mr. OELMEK, when you modify every single 'positive' statement with qualification such as:

"BUT it is a difficult task to bring the two communities together since the new generations of our island have lived apart for 36 years now." What you really want to say is that you don't want to see them living together ever again.

"BUT educational reform will only be achieved if such bicommunal events are carried out by both sides without, of course, each side losing its identity." What you really want to say is that 1. Greek Cypriots organize many many bicomm events whereas Turkish Cypriots don't, hence we're the good guys they're the bad guys and 2. we must remain schizophrenically loyal to the illusion that CYPRUS IS GREECE, and you want our children to continue living with the identity issues that we suffer from, foster prejudice against Turkish Cypriots and subsequently never be able to resolve the Cyprus problem.

Let's be honest. Enough with the shams, already. For the civil servants who don't want to see their ridiculously high salary decrease, and their insanely minimal working hours increase, taking the hypocrite road is the best option, but I think they should just stand up and speak the truth.

Enough with the 'teachers must be the most progressive people' chant, when we know it refers to one of the traditionally most conservative groups of people on the island.

Can we for once say what we think? Or if we MUST continue listening to the lies that civil servants, trade unions and politicians serve us with regards to their supposed willingness to solve the Cyprus problem, let's hope that they will at least experience what Plato considered one of the worst qualities of 'imitation' (the assumption of various roles by actors; mimicking; being something you are not): that they'll gradually lose their nationalistic attributes and that some qualities of the seemingly progressive roles they assume will rub onto them and become true habits.

Edit me

What a tragedy, the shape I'm in

Can you read between the lines? What do you see?

Artists in a London setting

The way he strokes my back, as if he's measuring, by eye; being sensitized; experimenting, discovering and exploring - that's the word - exploring. The body as an unknown territory - a part of the New World - was Donne's little fetish. Sometimes so pretentious, to read these valedictions, thinking you'd be embarrassed if you thought in the same way. But it's genius. And like the wonder of a voyage itself, cannot be fully grasped - not even partly - if not experienced, completely. So here is this man, this used-to-be-boy, with his stubble and his quintessentially male figure, and I feel that he is discovering me. Unfolding every little bit of my flesh and soul like a curious child. The body which is so neglected - a primary miracle, primal, now taken for granted, is apotheosized in those eyes. Penetrating, darting eyes. Dark slits holding two globes of wonder; long eyelashes that could catch fire.

Caledonian

His room was cold so I got under the covers

In a cold shirt; he said it doesn't matter

What if he's right?