At this present moment I feel strange, as if a dark euphoria has descended upon me and dialled my perceptive senses up to eleven; on the surface my mind is calm but below it is supercharged by an enormous and terrifying wheel of negative emotions and memories and thoughts, spinning with violent speed. I’m in a hideously ugly bar, the only customer, by a noisy section of the road and all the peace of mind I managed to attain over the past few days has evaporated into a big dust cloud and ascended into the sordid atmosphere, leaving my mind open and vulnerable to the malice and crude stench of existence that worms its way into your head like a plague, a virus, a memory … The trees are still, there is not even a hint of a breeze and so no comfort from the incessant force of the heat bearing down upon the ground. Despite all this, for some unknown reason, I want to remain in this odd pocket of the universe and feel the pulsating energies of this dismal and secluded bar, the heat, the sound of the cars and cheap motorbikes roaring past, the smell of dank oil seeping through the streets. The horror of this place is at once disgusting and enticing, almost like a Francis Bacon painting.
A sad and lonely-looking old man just entered this strange realm, hobbling meekly in, his stride slow, not slow in the manner a young and healthy man strolls slowly and relishes every step, every moment of the experience, but rather like the way I imagine a feeble and decrepit gladiator would painfully drag his aching body up the steps towards the entrance to the coliseum to what he knew would be his gruesome death. I looked down sullenly at my drink and inwardly wept for the sorrow that has befallen this man who was once a happy child running and playing and dancing, not knowing the horror that would become of his existence as it does to all of us as we continue to decay before our very own eyes, finally looking one day in the mirror and crying like a child once more.
Some of his parrea (friends) arrive and suddenly my role in this strange drama alters, I become the inexplicable outcast, the unknown outsider sitting in the corner writing mysteriously, drinking excessively and staring eccentrically around at the strange movie rolling on before my eyes which to them is just another ordinary day. I have become the unwanted virus in their world. I feel their unwelcome stares, their whispers. I’m not just seeing this developing reality in front of me, I’m connected to its energy field on a deeper level, I can feel everything around me, like pulses of electricity shooting through the air but affecting me somehow metaphysically, I can’t pinpoint the exact source of this strange energy nor the point of entry where it manages to sting my spirit, my soul. I know, in my rational conscious mind, that these are illusions and/or hallucinations produced by my hyperactive mind, but they still feel real. I can feel them, despite them not truly being there. Suddenly my tortuous reverie is broken; a dog yelps pathetically, a child screams, a car beeps its hideous horn, a man shouts, I can take no more of this odd place, I must escape, I must leave at once or implode.
Back on the boat. I am calm again. I am returned to the safety of the relatively known. In the dream long passed I was in was a large room with a deep curved ceiling which seemed somehow neither entirely man-made or naturally occurring and within its gloomy cavernous interior the air was as thick as fog and the walls permeated moisture, that hung like a cloud drifting just above the ground, upon which there were strange alien tufts of grass, jagged rocks and pools of mysterious steaming liquid which bubbled and fizzed lightly, like an ancient brew of dark magic potion. I am surrounded by people – who are all staring at the room in confusion and attempting, in vain, to comprehend the reality of their situation – when suddenly the floor slowly starts to crack around the outside by the surrounding walls, then one side gradually rises as the other descends creating a steeper and steeper gradient. There are monstrous eruptions of thunder and terrifying sparks of lightning clattering overhead and people are screaming a raw howl of fear and despair in sheer panic at their impending deaths. People start to tumble down into the ominous abyss of darkness that has appeared below, the echo of their morbid wails fading as they descend into the void. I can see their faces in great detail, as clear as the stars in the African night, as they contort with fear, their eyes drowning in sheer terror.
Journal Extract by Stamos Mardou