north country

it's officially december now. 2010 is about to bite the dust.

depressing yet wonderful in a way. when you imagine all the things that may change or and then deadly when you think of all the things that may never change.

just because i said it doesn't mean i meant it

finally i feel like a person again.

after spending about 6 hours on my feet today. i nearly collapsed when i got home had a quick dinner and did something that i don't do that often--i took a nap to get back on my feet. took a shower and had a moment to breath. i did so much over the weekend that i feel exhausted already. i have no clue how i'll be passing this week but oh well. lousy time-managing for 3 days really gives you no time to study at all.

i just put my white stripes on getting my teenage mood on these days. first keane now these beautiful songs--i do have to say they're far more beautiful than i remember--they're leveling out my brain as we speak.

first off--about the few remarks that i promised to state about the raving night out. i think it's established by now that i shouldn't be allowed to drink until i grow a personality. i don't remember much of the worst minute--just a lot of tears and paranoia--and sadly, my supposedly super cool mature poet spirit turned out to be scared little girl. it was obvious that i was beat up and pushed around and cornered by fears and miseries. i did have my reasons, i just didn't needed others to know. i used to be a fun person though.

anywho skipping all that---i went to that gigantic art fair today. though it cost me many uncomfotable hours on a hell bus and even more walking by foot--still it was a blast. first off, some kids are gonna grow up to me weird people. there were people who had their 8 year olds wondering through the booths. now i have nothing against encouraging a kid to know and like art, but have a heart. second, everything was a little too sterile, a little too business-like. a little 'mainstream' i suppose. it was crazy crowded too--lotsa strange lovely people.

best thing about that photo on top--first we saw these beautiful pieces by a group of asian artists who were hanging out by the paintings. i told my friend how yoko-john magic had happened for the first time in an art gallery possible like this one. then only a few minutes later we came by that photo--two seconds of silence passed and i blurted "is that john lennon?" and my friend heartedly approved. but there was nothing in the title or anywhere else (it was actually titled untitled) that indicated that it was john. my friend remarked that "just because he has the hair and glasses..." surely it didn't mean it had to be john, i ended for her. but we decided as we walked away that it was john for us. and i actually had my picture taken with me that looked like a god-john had erupted from the skies to talk to me. it was just wonderful.

and sure i could have asked him a few questions but we had to keep going. i've seen lotsa beautiful colors and patters pieces of mind and heart spread all around. then i've seen conformity of a few elements and the fancy banker types that cruelly reminded me that money flowed around these corridors as much as art did. and i guess you can't fight that. dylan made millions outta records, still does. doesn't mean to music is any less impressive.

i was hazy on my way back. i tried to figure out what was so great about this chaplin guy's voice. i mean the band make good music, no offense, it's just that he adds this spice to it that makes it different.

anywho until i do that you go enjoy the john-god. or god-john. sounds funny even to say it.

perfect symmetry

my back's practically broken.

lemme get back on my foot. i'll tell you all about every lovely thing i saw.

a girl

"Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world."

E.P.

well hello dear old friend--yes, i have come back.

edit about 10 minutes later:

"I know my circle and know very well
How many faces I'd have out of mind"

...

whaddayasay. i remember jack white being the cool alternative creepy hot emo prototype of my youthful days. i came by an interview the other day and he seemed super easy going mature grown up man. he's all adult and calm now. still charming though.

and maybe you'll find that life is unkind

my head's not exactly straight yet--i have full hours missing in the memory of last night. once the drunken paranoia and moodiness slipped away it actually turned out to be a fun night. made some smart points of importance: 1)it was a part of evolution that man made straps on dresses. use them. 2)don't drink when you hadn't had a proper dinner, or when you're moody, or when you're firghtened, or when you feel unsafe. 3)stop once you get hazy.

i do wanna talk about a few things regarding last night but my stomach's still alittle tingly. i woke up this morning with the need to listen to perfect symmetry --especially that little part in the middle that talks about the end of the night--and a few other moments that could have fit keane perfectly--anywho, i was supposed to study tonight but i think i'm just gonna have supper (very british that is) then coffee. more keane. i have to get back on my feet for tomorrow so i can go ahead and see that contemporary art thing downtown. then i have to study.

shithead stomach needs to get better.

i was walking up the stairs of the subway, tired, beat up, sweating the vodka, with my heart missing beats--and i got this feeling of returning home urgently. when you reveal faces of you that you know people would not like you understand the actual beauty of having a family. you feel like you can fall layers and layers and your mother would still be just as loving. i just came home practically dying of fear of ever losing that.

my mother she made tea and delicious boreks and i just dozed off to sleep.

bend and break

well if i try a bit harder i may actually fit this world to be own bidding. i actually did have a few things to talk about but i have that oblivion that you have following the revealing of what you thought was so dear.

i ached for a simple kind of beauty today. like that of chaplin's tone.

...

shit. i just had that moment where i saw something on the paper stopped and realized that despite my hours of studying i have no effin clue about it. then i realized i have no effin clue on anything on the subject.

so best not pretend

long long day.

it's raining though, so that's pretty sweet. raging storm, too. got caught on my way back--then it went away (back now, with lightnings and all)--just left the wind and the falling leaves. and music in my ears. i do know how to live on my own, for sure.

everyone seems to be on a struggle. million little words each with its own set of worries. i do feel seperate though--don't know if it's arrogance or just misery--it feels like everyone's striving to be comfortable--i'm fighting to survive. all these thoughts and pains that i hold dear wear me out. my heart is like--you know how your headphones get screwed over but not entirely broken and you know that very suddenly you may unsettle the sound--yeah, that's how it is. certain moments both ears go blazing, then suddenly, dead silence. i was walking down to the school today perfectly fine. then thoughts began coming over. songs suddenly got sad.

there's a bench that i may have mentioned earlier--we call it the 'lovers bank' cause it always has creeping couples getting all romantic after dark and all--and it's never unoccupied. i walked down and i looked at it--funny story--all the leaves of the tree that had been keeping it undercover and out of sight has fallen--now it's just out there so barren and obvious that it has no relation left to lovers whatsoever. then i sat down a little--listening to the best song i've heard in a while--and a few drops of tears fell. just like that. at moments of silence like that you realize the darkness within. and it frightens me these days. it won't make me sad, no, it just scares me. we do get damaged, after all. all these bruises and burns do leave a mark. you don't notice that.


this song--love is the end--i can't move past it. turns out it was exactly what i've been wanting to say all along. it's simplicity and beauty and sunset and goodbye spirit aside--it is true--love really is the end--nothing gets better after that. you should cherish everysecond in which you're learning to love/like/care for someone because once you do, well, it goes downhill from then on. there are no more steps to take. once you care, you just simply not care--very soon. it looses its charm. it looses its magic. the pathway up is beautiful--like the first ture laughter you share, or the first time you say the same thing at the same second, or the first time you share a song, or read a book together, or when that person--friend/foe/lover--makes you smile on a day you thought noone could--those are the beautiful things. after that--best not pretend cause love is the end.

night breaks blue. beautiful.

what was i talking about? right, emotions. like today with an old friend. i felt where affection once stood justified or mistaken now rang empty. even distasteful. not that it mattered--but the feeling itself--to see that turn into that bleak even bored attitude--i felt as if i let slip something valuable. i feel that a lot these days--with friends who now seem very estranged to me. today was unbearable. i keep saying it's not lack of love. but it is the lack of something.

funnily, that song is the most peaceful thing i've heard in ages. it soothes me down. it reminds me of a tale i've always wanted to tell.

legs of stone

i'm thinking this life-questioning state of being is just basic laziness. or else i have no clue why it comes up every time i have to study. though i do have to say--i listened to my white, and am watching an old superman movie--priceless stuff. got some keane performances on youtube, ate the most beautiful dessert. not having any expectations from life turns out to be the way to actually do some fun crap.

tomorrow. far away. for now.

...

4 years in and i guess it's safe to say now that i've made a mistake. i should have been somwhere else. not that i suck here, it's just that somewhere else i could have been much happier.

feet on the dashboard

overall a tasteless night.

but this. this. it's worth a lifetime.

you fall on me for anything you like

oh who cares about having 3 midterms in 2 days. oh who cares about anyofthatcrap when that lead just puts his hand of his heart when he says 'i don't mind'

if i could be young again

oh that little leprechaun cracks me up like no other. funny dude.

not that i have any emotional attachment towards the french, but i sure do feel sad that the land which once gave birth to rimbaud is now squirming under a tiny little hate man.

oh dear europe. how old and out of fashion you are.

naked person

a good voice is like a poem
or more like a poet. but good is in fact not good good is imperfect and magical and otherwordly like poets. never seen a perfect poet in my life. and voices are like that and they have breaks and whimpers and sighs instead of rhymes and metaphors or unicorns dressed as words. you can tell a lot by the voice. sometimes you don't even have to say the right words. the voice trembles. the voice shakes. the voice roars. you can fake words but sometimes you can't fake voice.

so this keane lead for example. or the followill. their voices are poets. seperate of their persons.

like fingertips. i hereby announce voices to be the next most personal things.

and i don't feel the same

i forgot what a great song this was. just came across a documentary about the band--thought you'd have a better day too just by acknowledging that

a bigger bang

oh how sweet. i miss zimmerman these days. joni and the followill's been keeping me kinda busy. next week will be hell but afterwards i think meesa needs some alone time with the man.

don't question why she needs to be so free

conversations are funny things.

so i finally watched shine a light--and it was lovely. richards has a 21 year old stuck in his body. jagger is a true frontman--you can not look away when he begins to rock his hips (hips are redefined, by the way. what i loved the most about the whole deal was how they kept asking every one of them if they would keep doing what they're doing--about a billion times--so you could be fuckin rolling stones and people still would question what will come out of you. i guess it's the only way of perceiving what you really are to them--it's like--a teacher of mine had once told me that people can only imagine what they already know (like thinking of uber galaxies under regime of republics and empires because they know nothing else) so because they kept being only one thing and not the other they assume everyone has to be just like that--you have to be a musician to make music a poet to say beautiful words a painter if you put the brush to the canvas--

so if you are doing this now you must surely know what you'll do next!

i don't know i thought it was funny. to have a similar response of bitterness with jagger sounds funny when you think about it but still. i have a lousy back pain and i was supposed to study tonight but that went to hell, i suppose. anywho. lovely song. see you aroun.

my old man

ah the beautiful russianness in that picture.

they took all the trees...

put'em in a tree museum.

...

nothing seems to be more vital than the happiness of a child.

life, unfortunately, is very real.

i can not shake the thought. i can not. it severes one's every train of thought. it fills you with immense love--as well as immense worry.

say it with love

sooo the end of an era has started. as funny as it sounds i did feel a little nostalgic today at the movie theater talking about the times that i saw the very first harry potter movie--and about the times that i used to complain at the age of 16 that i won't be `20 and still coming to harry potter movies now' (well 20 seemed very adult and mature back then) and when the movie began with that notorious little melody and the familiar sights and sounds i thought to myself 'well somethings do define generations'. it may not be a groundbreaking extreme lifechanging set of events but still there is practically no one of my age out there who hasn't been somehow touched by the story--and mind me when i tell you: it is a good story.

and it even gets better when you watch it with your best pal. hanging out later on with some joint followill appreciation and fast food muching. cinnamon sweet hot beverage after dark. talk about high school memories and drunken nights of harassing volleyball players practically twice the age we were. i guess that's what happens when you start getting old--you start talking about all these memories of has beens.

and let's face it that redhead is cute. he truly is a story of blooming flowers. turned out to be such a cool charismatic dude that noone saw that coming. not that he was hideous or anything, he was just kinda goofy when he was a kid. now he has this unique attractive air to him.

anywho enough gossip--i bought myself scorsese's shine a light so i'm thinking after reading a couple of pages on the arab-israeli issue i'll do a midnight screening of that. my coffee's made and i'm ready to roll.

love you all. do go and see the harry potter movie. say farewell to your childhood.

take care

Передвижных

midnight mingling with repin over lennon's jealous guy

i tell you this and i tell you now art does not start in one spot and ends at the other it's all a big blob of energy and all kinds are the same kind

pyro

oh dear. how great is this song.

portrait of a lady

finally a lady that could literally trump all them men out there. oh joni--you came in such a good time, or else i was beginning to feel quite isolated in my cause.

'said a week maybe two

november's been making me miserable.

what's up with all the sunshine and may weather? who knows. i feel like popping my tom waits up rather than my bluesy rainy dylans. even my zeppelin's been getting rusty. all this damn heat and i feel like seasons aren't rolling and i feel stagnant and stiff.

but besides that, things have been ok. sure there are a few ups and downs, but they are always around, and you can't avoid those. but i've been trying to put things back together by absolutely ignoring lovely questions about future and life and money and all. you call me coward (which i possibly am to some point) i call myself curious. i tend to believe that i could be a street artist in new york just as i could be a UN representative. so who knows. god--look at me--after all the complaining about how everyone asks me the same question, here i am, my only conversation being that very subject. talk about irony.

i went to see this beautiful exhibition the other--of paintings that belonged to the tsarist russia. it was beautiful--there was this one portrait of Tolstoy which struck me dead the minute i locked my eyes on it--this mean looking old men with green eyes popping out of his skull--like seeing an old friend--i took a few steps backward and looked harder--and found myself thinking 'that looks exactly like tolstoy!' as if i was the one who knew what tolstoy really looked like. the whole building was filled with beautiful works of art--one floor belonged to a hungraian painter who used these bright lively colors which was the exact opposite with the spirit of the russian ones--and one belonged to a set of orientalist paintings from mostly french painters that came and saw istanbul at its ottoman days. all this fixation on the harem and the fugires of women drinking and messing around--makes you wanna laugh at realizing that it all comes down to sex after all--every little piece of art just comes down to that very subject and it amuses you to know the greatest of the greatest was just as sex-driven as the hobo out on the streets

putting all that aside. what i want to talk about right now isn't easy for me. i do not mean to exploit, i do not mean to sound a battle charge. i received a piece of news the other day from one of those people who live over the ocean that i love dearly--and quite frankly, i don't know how to deal with it. i cried, at first, a lot too. then i just didn't know what to do. when facing true pain, one is forced to grow up. you suddenly realize that any misery that makes you feel miserable in a showing way is not true sadness. if you can put on a preferable song or write a few lines--means the sadness you suffer is either at your own hand, or at hands that you chose to suffer by. when you face an actually misgiving--a true sadness--you grow quiet. you move on with your life, you keep it from other, once or twice in the day (though lot more often in the last few days) it passes through your mind and you stop and you float not knowing what to do or what to say and you feel like you're not entitled to anything--and this grown up maturity fall over your shoulders and you begin seeing the world differently. i don't know. it doesn't make you wanna kill yourself--worse--it makes you find a way to move on with your life.

so i've been praying everynight for the last couple of days. first time in years. they've asked me to do so and i will. though god may not help me for i no longer believe in him, but who knows, maybe he'll help someone who does.

...

things happen in the world that make you wish life would freeze. you hear of news that breaks you into a million tears frightened you repeat it to yourself a few times a day just so you can deprive yourself of a weary smile--all the world then feels like relying on the back of one little beautiful child

...

huh. just read a story of mine that was half decent. i bought a red pen the other day so i can edit stuff i write. makes me feel all professional and future-oriented.

a case of you

"Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid"

blue.

joni takes me tonight to a little apartment in ny overlooking perhaps washington square filled with angelic people with acoustic guitars and lovers unexplained. tea tastes good and i can only pray i get through this year to not waste the previous 3 but joni and i we both know my wings began itching on my back and soon i gotta fly away

jump in the waters when they're raging

Long time, no see lovers.

i’m aware that it took me a little too long to get my ass outta whining and come down here to say a few words—but all’s been thought over (and then some) and here i am.

strange things have been happening lately-school, for starters. my beloved castle of 'multitudes' have fallen. it all seems to be such a drag these days to even just get down there. it seems outdated and pointless and absolutely unnecessary. and you know what happens when i lose faith in something--it just goes downhill crazily--so i'm thinking low grades and a few disasterous choices lie ahead as the spring approaches. not much i can do at this point to change that. i mean there is but i won't do so. i can't do so. if my heart ain't in it than i can't force myself to lose hours on causes i no longer believe in. path of academia at this point in my life no longer excites me--i surely have a lot to learn but i need to do so through life-not through a bunch of people with too many to count sticks up their asses

moving on. i had two lovely nights in a row over the past two days--and though i'm a little tired and time seems to be running this weekend i surely am happy. both were two absolutely opposite ends of the spectrum--one being too turkish and the other being absolutely non-turkish. fasil as we call it--a dinner made up of friends music and my land's most pleasant beauty raki--it was a blast on thursday night when i had a chance to hang out with some of my favorite people. though strings were stretched as far as they could--some on the break of breaking of--and certain uncertain issues lingered on--all through it was a lovely night with highlights such as doorstep assumptions on what makes or should make you happy and let it be ringing softly in the back (which is most unusual in a fasil) and later on drunken moments of beauty such as talking about broken friendships walking up to the square or freaking out in my drunken state of mind over a nightmare i had a few days ago in which one of my best friends lately learnt something about me that i know he would sooner or later--truth is at this point it would be cruel to not let him in the picture since my insignificant secret lingered around for one too many minutes around his circle--anywho it's different when you're drunk--evertything is simpler and most logical--yet you feel something strained beneath your dragon skin--i have noticed on my way back through the fog smudged night that i as i tried figure out who i was and what i wanted or tried not to want anything that i thought i can not have have managed to successefully killed a deeper silent part of me--all that struggle to be quieter and lonelier and bleak--i thought i bounced back all right--truth is i haven't--a part of it still veils me and chains me down and i went home last night noticing that i no longer was capable of being that happy--the way that i used to be upon returning from drunken voyages made with friends (bobby says -- you can always come back but you can't come back all the way)

last night was entirely different. i had too lesser known still loved friends with me and we went to see the blues festival downtown--which was a things of beauty in itself. note to thyself--never go to a blues show without a lover. i have decided after last night that blues was the most sexual genre out there. it takes you up to this level of energy and passion and leaves you off there--it doesn't explode you like rock'n roll or leave you grounded like folk music--god freaking knows it is just insanely sex-friendly. i don't know how clear this sounds but you had to be there to know what i mean--especially near the end when kenny neal was doing this mean heavy i can't quit you babe type of blues song it just makes you lose it. besides that the whole thing was amazing--it was probably the first show i ever been to without having a clue about the participants--but from now on samuel james is surely under my spidey senses--dude looked more like jay z then muddy waters but still man did he know how to play that guitar. it was a whole army of musicians molded into one human being.

two kinds of people should be banned from attending shows like this one-- 1) wannabe high school kids (i know i know i sound like a bitch for saying that but man they are annoying) 2)creepy snake dancing guys that keep yelling and pointing at the sax player just desperately dying to let them know how much they totally love them--would have loved to have bobby there--that would have been a blast

lets see what else? caleb followill is killing me these days--as they often do--the songs began growing on me--and that voice--man--that voice that scratching tearing roaring growling beauty--it's unhealthy, to be exact. that's how amazing it is. pony up is getting to a frequently played on my ipod. SPEAKING OF- my stupid headphones broke. hence i was miserably all through the bus rides. but i am so getting a new one tomorrow so hopefully by monday morning, i'll be a happier person.

oh and another strange event. this lovely friend of mine that i've just met upon hearing from me (being possibly one of very few) that i wanted to write in the future revealed that he also had an idea for a book--but he would probably get down to that later on in life since it was 'too hard' to do so for now. but he also made me smile afterwards declaring that i made him 'think about what he was going to do--again!' so i guess kindred spirits are not always as far away as we think they are--or maybe they'r even further down--who knows

so as you see not much changes. i do feel slightly changed. i do feel slightly lonelier. slightly more confused. yet slightly clearer.

highly estranged. wounded but up on my two feet. putting friends secrest and families in my rear window. at least trying to--as that lead followill boy often lets me know (or at least i assume he does--boy has a way of singing the words that lets you hear them as what you wish them to be and not what they really are--in the strangest parts of town at the strangest hours too)

and all this pissin' around
cut loose of this fuckin' town
i ain't comin back
i got my ticket on to the next one

ah november. take off your shirt already and show me your raindrops.

quit your low down ways

i am gonna get around to things soon--till then don't assume i've given up hope on this place--it's just been a couple of funny weeks and we'll have a chat as soon as i get my on my two feet