...

it's official--i have a guitar fetish.

this could be the night...

that the moon goes red.

crossroads

so trying to fit in as many rounds as possible in this short break--absolutely ignoring the soon reappearance of school by drowning myself in meetings after meetings--off to go somewhere to meet an old friend in a couple of hours--trying to make big decisions concerning the next couple of months--oh how tired i am of having to decide---darn world must be spinning and spinning around just to avoid having to decide when to stop--

had a chat with a lovely friend though--unplanned--makes you realize how easily we miss people

i'll be back hopefully tonight if the night won't get tangled up in other places--will talk to you then.

blood in my eyes

please don't tell me how the story ends

such a wonderful mellow song--kinda like my spirit who refuses to make up its mind according to the minds of others. the toughest one to convince is usually you yourself anyhow.

fans

i think one of these days they're gonna shove me outta the irish bar but what can i say i totally ♥ the place. i also love the magnificent goofiness we reach with a good friend (best, possibly) and the joy of stalking nathan followill through his twitter photos--you know we have a saying in turkish--to look at someone who's beatiful is a sevap (which is--well--i don't know if there's a word for it in english, sorta like anti-sin, if sin puts -s on your account up there then sevap puts +s)--and red wine--and crazy little child knocking against the window only to run and hide when we turn around--i even love the "marengo" or whatever the name was cake that they never bake in that place--

you can never hold back spring

god bless the wonder that is spring break.

sheer pleasure, i swear. you know what i did today? ah, woke up, had a beautiful breakfast, sipped my tea as i wrote my ideas* on the waves, then watched angels and demons (which was something i've been meaning to do for a while now--hello ewan mcgregor making creepy vatican dresses look sexy) then cooked lunch with ma.

and what i'm planning to do for the rest of the day--well, i was thinking of brushing up my latin for a bit, since all that tempus sede vacante got my appetite going. i'll probably make a beautiful cup of coffee and plug in my dave van ronk--and enjoy the evening through and through.

sad thing i probably have 1 or 2 more days to spend like this. then comes the schedules i've made, people to see, places to go, and bam! on monday school starts again--but i'm not that bummed out about it--well--everyday is only another day closer to the 31st of may

well--i should wrap it up--i got stuff to enjoy--but before i take off, her's a little song that makes you wanna explode of energy. enjoy!




*i have started up a new blog for reviews on practically anything-- http://whatthedeadpoetsaid.blogspot.com

...

"I will read in the book that is propped against the bottle of Worcester sauce. It contains some forged rings, some perfect statements, a few words, but poetry. You, all of you, ignore it. What the dead poet said, you have forgotten. And I cannot translate it to you so that its binding power ropes you in, and makes it clear to you that you are aimless, and the rhythm is cheap and worthless; and so remove that degradation which, if you are unaware of your aimlessness, pervades you, making you senile, even while you are young."

The Waves -- V. Woolf

the albatross

"The Poet is a kinsman in the clouds
Who scoffs at arches, loves a stormy day;
But on the groud, among the hooting crowds,
He cannot walk, his wings are in the way."

Charles Baudelaire

...

now i know the real difference that set me apart with some people--lack of love. certain ones even from my closest circle just lack it so deadly that their spirits are only ashes, and nothing else. they make and create and pretend to be burning coals but i'm telling you, it's no use. and i get angry easily--i used to think it was me who was faulted--now i see it clearly, i have learnt in time to see them from a mile away them and their waste-ness that is an insult not just to me but to the earth. i wish i could just put them all in a jar and throw them off into the deepest oceans where they and their colorless personas can exist through eternity without infecting any of us


but i get sad still--i wonder how they crept into my circle of being. i should have known long long ago that certain people and other ones will never truly exist together--my waves and storms of love, affection, delusion, confusion turn into feeble drops of rain against their walls of stonelike uselessness. they can all disaapear off the face of the world and no one would once cry a true tear.

for all them trailing around the walls don't mean they wanna get in--

that's not the road

finally--the fifth spot is filled.



ps: this is the only video i could find on youtube w/ the song so try to ignore everything else in it (i personally think it's creepy)

..

done everything i possibly could--downloaded music, watched youtube videos, read poems, drank tea, read 45 different blogs, spent countless minutes on facebook--everything but studying--oh where the heck did my concentration disappeared to?

effin finals

sooo i have the worst final schedule in the world--having 8 finals in like 4 days or so. not to mention that i have a final on the last slot of 31st of May (which will be butchered by my excitement anyhow) and on the first slot on the 1st of June--which i'm planning to bail out entirely if i can get some legal documentation.

words of kindness linger on

considering that one of my last year's new year resolutions was to spend some more time trying to figure out the phenomenon that was john lennon, and with the contributions of a friend that can be i guess be wrongly (as all labellings are) labelled as somewhat of a beatles-spirit (which i guess makes me in person a dylan-like--and as horrible as it is to reduce a person to such monolithic layers i do have to say as a dylanite, dylanesque, dylanish or however you call it persona that at one point of another very vivid yet blurry distinctions occur in the corner of the eyes of a dylan-like spirit and a beatles-like one that falls somewhere between the lines of the differences between lennon and dylan themselves) and his goodhearted attempts of answering my questions-- I thought I might as well dwell back into the fab four for this very beautiful sunday (in which i have absolutely no interest in studying and hence my downhill career and success according to them categories of them pointy hats that is)--

anyways so i've been playing their records back to back and i remembered (last night that is, and even directed the question to my friend who responded in a way that i hadn't thought of ever responding to such a question--i have said before "all his/her/their songs are great, there aren't any bad ones" but never in my life said "you can't have one strict favorite--it changes through time") how much i loved this one song and thought i'd post it here after all--




ps: just noticed my growing dependency on brackets. sorry if they're causing confusion, that results not of your incapability of following, but my incapability of being simple and precise.

...

i'm sorry--but how did humanity manage to keep tom waits hidden from me for so long?

shame shame now.

edit about 4 hours later--

oh no all them ringo star songs that i missed. my whole universe just changed.

...

gueees who has a final on june 1st? guess who doesn't care?

dawn

soooo long night. just got home.

i do have a lot to say but way too excited to spit them out orderly. so i'll just start free floatin as it comes.

so what the sages say after all is true-- the darkest hour is before the dawn--but the dawn comes sooner or later and mine has come. avoiding crowds in days of blues may seem like the smarter thing to do, but i'm telling you right now, that ain't the case. in silence in desolation one makes too much peace with the sorrow and forgets to chase it away--instead turns into a habit of yet another kind. but crowds crowds push you around make you feel exposed and they trespass your hidden gardens--so much to the point that you realize something is wrong and this pain in you heart is not normal and you don't fit right where you used to fit perfectly--last night me i was terribly alone in a room of wonderfully entertaining people some i care for tons some i would enjoy getting to know greaterly--either way a room full of people that in no way are attached to my pain and misery, people that have nothing to do with my downhearted spirit of the last few days--and there i was not breathing proper and trying to keep up with the pace of things--

so if crowds make you miserable, then why seek them out? simple. you have to be miserable in order to shake the misery away. you have to cut open the wound and drain out the poision. you have to come to that boiling point that you can't hold things back anymore and that you have to leave--go home wherever that is (and it sure is in the act of eating apples with grandma in the middle of the night) anyways--that weight pressing down your heart--that ain't sorrow, that's just tears--and once you empty those oceans of tears around your heart it all feels so much better--me i did on my way back home for an hour of uncontrollable crying (my favorite--to cry in the middle of the city and feel how commpassionate it really is--the city- its people)but when the morning came oh man no feeling is similar to that

my heart now is lighter

so much lighter that i feel like i've been reborn. clouds have passed. i have become used to the way of things and decided to enjoy life despite its horrors. awaken. anew.

lighter!

my feet my feet---like feathers
trailing beauty on the surface of the fresh cold spring water

my heart my heart---like
this:

when they shine them streets

"well, i know you. i don't care for you, but i know you. and you know me, you care for me, but then again you care for everyone. i hold you in the palm of my hand because i alter you and through you i alter the universe and you spend your days and years waiting for someone to wholly shake and reshape the universe for your amusement--but people like that don't exist, and i don't exist the way you believe i do, but i am a subsititute that helps you get your fix until the next morning arrives. you crave for thunders and storms and earthquakes and fires but i can not seem to get you to understand that i can not do that for you. but i won't leave you out in the cold either. i will make you feel like you have finally gotten a piece of me. and you have. for i exist only when you are barehearted. and i don't care for you, but i know you and you know me, and i will let you in through the door you choose. you know all i offer you is a shrug, and you're ok with that. i think that's why you come back. i am a false prophet in your eyes, i am with what you differentiate your pain from that of the peasant, i am in me what makes in you worthy--hence my sole belonging to you. Days you realize it is not the case, that i may belong to someone around the corner just as likely as i to you, but you are quick to shake that thought. you look down at the child and through me pity his years to come. you know i'm not an idol, a preacher, a savior. i am just a song."

take that frown and break it

see i think of a million things in the course of my day each poetic and perfect, each a reflection of some higher notion but when i sit down in front of the screen (maybe that is where the problem lies after all , such phrases in their rightfull manner should be from a heart to another) nothing seems to come out straight simply because of the fact i begin trying to order words and put in descriptions and make them sound pretty--all that presicion and medation kills the muse, i suppose--

either way--there are 3 things to die for in this world-- 1)tullips 2)rain 3)family

have about 50 or some more pages of the waves--saving them for the morning reading tomorow at 8 at the banks hopefully if the weather turns out good--with the cats (jack may show up, he scratched me the other day) (oh and ezra's missing again, need to put a leash on that damn cat-- one heck of a free spirit he/she is)-- and the crows (for they always enjoy the best view at the best time) and the old man sweeping the streets and the crazy cats who can stand up against god for all they care but run away like mice from water when they sense the broom coming--anyways with all the beatiful unspoiled things of the morning light just falling over surely (night is full of doubt and is a bully, where as morning is clean cut and certain and strong) and i'll sit there for about an hour or so and snatch myself away from the miseries of the world (i am any and all miseries, i feel pain from a mile away and i can not rest until i make it mine--be it of the dirty junkie of the street or of my own father in the same room, i am if nothing else is best at making myself suffer in the name of sufferings i force over names of others) and sit back and relax and probably turn on way way early dylans and pretend that i do not live my life among the lives of others

anyways--until then--perfection is in this next few minutes be it physical (it is not shallow to look at someone and enjoy beauty for beauty's sake and let's face it where would poetry be if it wasn't for simple sheer beauty at the drop of the sweat from the hair and the biting of the lower lip) or entirely spiritual-this one song being the ruler of the world in the few minutes it possesses--this one song that made dylan ask first "what was the last song?" and following the answer from the lead singer "trani" declaring "that's hellofasong"

i'll second that zimmerman

long way home

and there i ran to my false prophets again--a moment of
stillness a fracture of time a highway to hide
upon.

fading away replica of an actual potantial i have become--waiting desperately to grow old enough to burn my idols and effortlessly conceal my secrests or believe- with eyes shut-in their non existence.

i am already old enough
to begin losing faith
in words
anyways--

...

ahh the late night restlessness that creeps in at the final hour
killing my sleep

...

sadly foreign we've become
i am not certain whether we have forgotten
or else we never have remembered at all

shells, bones and silence

slow night, so long children.

sorry i had been so absent but it has been crazy times, i just got home from crashing somewhere else, i am a bit hazy, but i'm all right. mama made tea, i went through emails and stuff--things that make you feel like you have gotten things back in order--and i put on a new album, so here i go.

first off--alas, ezra's alive! yes, my faithfully weirdo cat showed up in his/her usual spot a few days back, man, you should have seen my face. i haven't been that happy in days (a friend of mine had told me a few days before that that there had been a dead cat lying around in the square which sadly matched my desperate description of "the cat that always waits there!" (always with a finger poiting out and about!)) and the minute i called him/her him/her came running towards me, which wasn't something she/he ever did before (he/she would mostly just stare at my constant come on-s, and would let me pet him/her as he/she would lie there still) so who knows, maybe good ol' Ezra missed me just as I missed him/her. anyways, either way, problem solved. the lost kitten of eden returned.

it's been kind of a good week--minus the psycho midterms and lack of time to do anything of choice--with so many kinds of weather takings their turns. there was rain--as i stepped into the street and looked up just about to go "hey it is raining" november rain began on my ipod (swear to God, you can't make this stuff up). there was sun--such zeppelin days--such good old zeppelin days--i haven't had listened to them in a while, so i've been rezeppelinizing myself for the past few days, and it brings back good memeories. i do wish that since i've been loving you wasn't such a great song though, so that i could listen to it a bit more often. so long story short, spring comes, spring passes. the month of cummings have arrived. not sickly hot nor deadly cold. just the way i like it (well, i may like it better if it rains more often!)--

sorry, my head's a little all over the place so bear with me through this little outburst of opinions. you know what i noticed today--in turkish you say "be friends" and not "make friends" which is so true, so so very real, and so poetically straightforward--because i learnt in the recent days that you can't make friends out of people--it's not a process, not an ongoing action--friendships can be made, sure, and built--but a friend is a state of existence--it is either there or it isn't. you can't force it to happen. i say people are born each other's friends--they are that way because they are that way--it isn't about time or place or attempt or consolation or comfort, it is about something else that comes to this world within you and within him and within her and that something finds soemtimes its equal and you know you have a friend there- "make" has nothing to do with it "be" "as" maybe but not "make"

you can open up to anyone doesn't mean they'll open up to you you can care about anyone or at least you can be respectfully humane towards anyone won't mean you'll get the same thing in return because customs and favors and kindnesses shown to make things are attempts they're tried for they're built or they're mediated--but there is in fact a whole seperate other innate system of spirits or souls or whatever there is that you like to think of people as and in that system sometimes there's a flash sometimes a thunder--but something of a recognition that can only recognize an already existing piece of one another, not a piece that may or may not exist in the future.

anyways so much on that--i don't like not liking people-- it's just that indifference is such a deadly price paid to forget--but sometimes that's the only way there is--because you can't ever make--

moving on. changed the outlook as you've noticed. the title looks a little crappy but oh well.

i don't wanna get this any more scattered that it already is so i'm gonna start wrapping it up--and i'll be doing that with a few great words--

The ant's a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity, it is not man
Made courage, or made order, or made grace,
Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down.

E.P.

oh come on now--it would have been plain rude to have talked about him so much and not letting him speak for himself once--

though the course may change sometimes

now now it's that time of the year when the tide is turning after all, and the more clothes you shed off (it's the greatest thing about summer-by an by we get more naked as it moves) the more zepp you can put on. think of a bus stop, warm sunlight, billions of people shambled to a focus constantly shifting and shifting again hence they are too shifting and shifting again--then think of a random moment of ramble on; filling your head--that's summer--that's summer--it's not the heat or the sleep deprivation or the feeling of not being able to succeed(lingering on is after all lingering on)--still it's the zepp that pulls you down and takes you out--




i have tons to talk about. wait till the end of the week. off to take a nap now.

ps: the robert plant kid at school cut his hair sometime back, and that makes em sad everytime i see him. i'll talk about him too.

knock knock

i love this show because: 1)the boys are loveable--too much 2)on a episode about heaven they actually play the zimmerman version of knockin' on heaven's door 3)it has a good story and it's funny 4)has a helluva car 5)loves zeppelin 6) i love the show

and my feet are so cold

i remember somewhere through Brothers Karamazov the devil i think was saying that people would give everything in the world to be released from their free will--yes i know now what that really means--this sick in the stomach feeling i had all day with everything to do but more with everything to decide--oh man all that i would give just to be somewhere with no decisions waiting to be made--sometimes your gut tells you exactly what you should do anyways--mine has too--but human psyche is one delusionally disfunctional middle child

yet another goodbye has taken its place--the girl with curls (loved the sound of that, hence from then on will be her name) too took her luggage and flew to a colder paler town--wish she hadn't but wish her the best--and that too as always got my brain all wrapped up on thoughts and feelings--and the amount of shit to get done still is piled up behind my conscience--i'm like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food one till they die

not to mention that i am falling into the usual loop holes of me existence--which were thankfully destroyed over the last few weeks--months even--and to see that i'm getting myself into the same order of things scare me and i have to stop again--

to remind yourself constantly of yourself is such a burdensome thing--even the songs sometimes don't help--nor this sad child with all his beauty and rimbaud-ness who had to burn everything way before the end