THE END IS NEAR

I often tumble through books looking for things to notice and start the day, and most of the time these end up in tumblr, as single image posts should. When they make sense as a story they come here.
But after posting a Greek Orthodox lithograph 
of the ROAD TO HELL, 
the images that followed seemed to me making spooky sense:

from the same book I could not resist THE ROAD TO HEAVEN, as a delusional fantasy happy ending

it seemed there was still a chance of ending up in pink and friendly SPIRITUAL CITY

even little Jesus sat in an interesting chair during his TRIAL

but then, ominously, 

A PNEUMOSMIC ARENA appeared

FINANCIAL MARKETS TUMBLED

a strange wind

blew tumbleweeds into their CATCHER

an innocent white cube caught in the claws of BLACK METAL TECHNOLOGY (an appropriately dramatic ending)

PS: if you could just choose to stop tumbling, then it wouldn't be a tumble would it?

they PUSHED A BUILDING hopelessly

only to see it fold up on itself and 
FAN BACK DOWN TO THE NETHERWORLD

Athens Bookmark Timewarp

recently I stumbled upon this old book on Athens, and you know how old books are, everything looks sort of cool, like the Academy in 1900

the text was kind of complaining about Athens, like this image showing Omonia square (otherwise know as Junkie Central) "before it became a transportation hub". I guess that must be quite some time ago.

there was a map of Athens but it looked kind of boring and I couldnt tell how old it was, but the book definetly looked old.

as always, a nice plan of the acropolis as a palace proposal

then finally a date, Omonia Square in 1932,  before cars and junkies

 but then something weird. this picture looks really old too but the buildings not that old, and it says 1980, even if the photographic quality looks like from the 30s

but even more confusingly, this picture says 1986, when there was definetly color photography right? and why do the cars look like something from Grease? was it a major 1950s revival in the 80s?

ok obviouly the book not only is made to look like a much older book than it is, its also getting all the dates wrong, like these two cuties here (Syngrou Avenue otherwise known as Tranny Boulevard, in 1905? with 70s' modernist knockoffs?)

even the scans are kind of warped

a building thats probably not even in Athens

of course the cover explains everything: Athens Past and Future, (timewarped)

Le Mepris

We were lost in a cloud of unawareness

white plaster, red eyes

Poseidon, arch enemy, blue eyes, blue lips

color check

contempt

big window, big rocks

big staircase

big sky

I see you as if for the first time

TheTerrifying Boredom of contemporary Telecommunication

A flock of taxis waits outside Chamartin station in Madrid.
Like a sleepy robot, I make my way to the one I am pointed at.
I wonder why it doesnt move to the point where passengers get on and I have to walk to it instead, but soon I will know.

The driver mumbles something in spanish, I say no habla espagniol,
he mumbles some more. There is traffic, he curses, starts driving nervously, speeding and stopping every 10 meters. I'm thinking he's angry, road rage, what would you expect, sometimes I am like that too.

All the yoga in the world and you're still an angry white male.

I hear the familiar beep beep of a phone waiting to be answered, though its through the car speakers, surround sound. Are we calling someone? Is the beep part of a song?

It takes a while to understand whats goin on, nobody seems to be picking up, beep fucking beep. Finally a sleepy female voice comes on, and I get it. He's called somebody over the car-phone system, and as I said that I dont habla espagnol, he doesnt care that I can hear.

He's talking to his wife, something about Chamartin and Airport. I guess they are talking about me? No, he's just relaying where he is, what he is doing. She replies something about casa bla bla rafael bla bla.
Yes I am here, yes you are there, yes. Uh huh. Yes. They agree that they are both there, and have nothing to say, and they somehow keep saying it, maybe just to confirm they are still alive?
She seems as bored as he. Something about seven oclock?

Surround Sound Cellular telecommunication with a 7MB camera, 700 minutes per month only 120 euro and unlimited SMS and landline calls, nothing at all to communicate.




They continue having a boring bored conversation,
and as far as I can understand they are saying nothing at all. Still.

More "I am here, you are there, we are talking on the phone, nothing is going on except boring boredom"
then the kids come on, they also relay their boredoms, something about cubidou? scoobeedo? loukilouk?
more boredom, they keep talking for a while, he sounds tender and blissfull to be saying nothing to his son.
I listen while I photograph the equally boring landscape.

We are somewhere between city and airport, neither rural, neither pretty, neither industrial, neither agricultural.
We pass a tennis club, a factory, suburbia, airportia.
The call is over and now we are focused on the driver who cut in front of us,
suddenly the ugly, bored, unpolite, probably unwashed taxi driver is angry, really angry,
he honks, and then decides to catch up with the supposedly aggresive driver in the expensive SUV.
Suddenly the bored turns to angst, we are going 180km dangerously swerving between cars, screaming

Little faggot in the back seat doesnt say a word
when the angry ugly neantherdal screams Maricón! to the SUV and to all the other cars, to everybody.
Wait I'm not a liitle faggot, I'm a big faggot, but lets just get out of this alive, gay pride can wait.

I see the Richarg Rogers designed, rainbow colored Barajas Terminal 4 from far away
and I hope to make it there in one piece.
He swears some more to every car in the horizon, I almost feel the battered peageut fly off the fucking asphalt,


why the hell didnt I take the airtrain, I didnt even check to see if it exists since the per diem pays for the potentialy lethal taxiride, we are there, he screeches to a halt, does he really expect a tip?
as I open the trunk he grabs my suitcase, but instead of putting it to the ground he points to the handle,
mumbles something that I imagine to be "pick up your own stuff".
I do, and continue my sleepy robot schlepp though security control.

Adbusted

Recently, I can't help noticing

all the blank billboards on my morning walk

maybe they ran out of things to advertise?

maybe we just consumed too many ads and we dont see them anymore?

maybe the whole country is bust

and not even the creepy cheap advertisement companies want to sell us anything

because they know we are junk customers

naturally, the only ad that is never missing is for the ubiquitous online crap-sino

the next day I find myself in front of this sign, 

and what do you know, 

it looks just like a fucking tombstone:

Here Lies the Greek Economy.

To Be or Not To Be: The Is Residence

This is the Is residence by M. Rokkaku & Partners

I don't really know what to think about this really strange house, 

equipped with a sort of brain-like thinking unit in the center

the only thing I can think of is that I cant think anything about it

perhaps it's the endless collection of clocks

that seems to stop time from thinking