It’s been two years since I know it will happen sometime, but now it’s right there in front of my face. I’m looking out the window from an airplane to Tel Aviv. On my lap a little angel is sleeping peacefully: Özge, the world famous Chinese crested doggy. From now on, he’ll be just a dog from all the others – in a way. And I’ll be Kristóf Steiner. Not more, not less. Not „the ex vj of the music television”, not „the openly gay celebrity”, not the „exhibitionist show-of”, not the „wannabe writer” and not the „screenwriter of a soon to be Rassie Award winning movie”. And tho I never denied how much I love the limelight, as Evita said in the end of the show: „I’ve decided I should decline all the honors and titles you’ve pressed me to take…”. No marks, labels, only me in a place where the sun is melting together with the sea.
Vintage-Me… and the answer is a big fat NO!
When I decided to move to Israel on the side of my loved one, I knew that I’ll have to give back some other labels too – not just the sticky ones which I never asked for. I won’t be the boy by his father who gives his heart and friendship trough good and bad, tough and easy. I won’t be there as a fighter for my beloved Hungary and the city I adore – Budapest. A fighter for real freedom in the army of the children of revolution. I won’t be there with my friends when one of them’s tears are making the pillow wet or to laugh with them in the garden of our loved Menza restaurant of Franz Liszt square. And… I won’t be by my Mama’s grave in the court of the Church of Csillaghegy for a while.
I have a confession to make. Matan Attias is not the one and only love of mine. I’m in love with LIFE with all it’s colours. Who cares if it’s pink, yellow, shining gold, or gray, black and scary. The important thing is to carry this giant painting on my back, sometimes with smile on my face, sometimes with tears in my eyes. And I’ll never be afraid to jump into the middle of it – just like Mary Poppins did it to the crayon drawing. This blog is about colours. For those who doesn’t believe every word from the cover stories: „Kristóf wants to have sex in front of the professor”, „Steiner is happy for Jacko’s death”, Kristóf Steiner is fucking children, he is responsible for his mother’s death and all those things what they wrote and they will write and say about me. Colours have shades. And unlike flashy, egocentric tabloid stories, life is mostly happening in the light of these mild, fairy-dust soft shades.