...

...

nothing of royal nature or fascination through fancy hats and overy done manners can really match to the nervous yet excited and mischievous tingling of two youthful boys trying to conceal grins bored and entertained at the same time.

...

true poems reveal themselves at 2.10 am -- an album pierces through one's soul like no other for it is a long story line, composing of smaller ones that remain as valid and strong as any on their own but come back to stand as pieces of a beautiful train of thought that you can follow. the boy that fell in love and the boy that died in vain.

quite what goes in or to care what comes out

"They got a metabolic connection, a Man Within you might say."

W.S.B

so prepare suckers for this one's gonna be tiny bit long.

my timeline's a bit shady but i'll try to pull everything together for your amusement. i had one of those endless days yesterday and it was one of the most wonderful days i had over the last few months, perhaps. so let's roll this thing, shall we?

let me try to be organized and talk about things one at a time but you know me, i am spiritually very disarranged. anywho though to start off, we hit this photo exhibit inside the armenian church on istiklal which is kinda weird cause 1)it's kinda holy ground for some 2)it's kinda a strange ground for others. not to be overcome to these national discourses but over the years you kinda pick up words here and there and usually the less pleasant stick with you. so when you walk down the stone yard some unwise part of you thinks someone will leap forth and pick up a heated hate debate. needless to say that obviously didn't happen. though one wonderful thing did: i was staring at this black and white photo when a kid pulled her mother's sleeves and pointing to a photo of an old ragged uncle (we call all strange yet affectionate looking men uncle in this lovely culture of mine) and stated bluntly as does a child often: "he scares me".

now we couldn't figure out why with my dear good hearted friend, but that girl cared very little for poetry and art and all that other socially constructed idols and looked at what seemed to her frightening. there was something quite sincere and defying in her attitude.

moving on from there we checked out this other art exhibit on istiklal--one that is named the tactics of invisibility--this group of artists focusing mostly around the issues of identity, conformity, ignorance and such that renders an individual or a crowd invisible. there were quite a few things that were mindfully challenging--my favorite was this artist's project on reincarnation and second lives where he interviewed a bunch of people who believe they died and were reborn as someone else. they had two wives two families some had more children some i think at some point had his mother in a bull. now i know that sounds stupid but trust me, it wasn't. you don't even have to believe it. you just sit there and listen to these crazy stories of people buying things for whom they believe carries the spirit of their lost loved ones--people recognizing their brothers from different lives--and even more people accepting these newcomers as a part of their life. you know it kinds creeps you out and those brain curves start to tingle. in a way you wish to believe for it carries endless possibilities of story lines--mystic and inspirational and unreal and beautiful.

another cool thing from the exhibit was this woman who brought to life this old orientalist painting of the harem. it looks kida dumb at first but there is a split second where you see the painting as it is this unliving worn out greyer shade of life and then you see these freaks all around moving. i thought it was a strange perspective, and a good one. slightly creepy, i repeat. but strangely attractive. i'll post the original painting just so you can enjoy it, i think it's kinda superb. orientalist, but superb.



once we were filled with arts and thoughts we had a bite and then moved on to this small kinda shabby coffee shop. we drank our strong bitter turkish coffees and romaticized blobs and stains on the cup--finding out hearts and snakes and roads and good things and bad ones and lotsa jokes. it's always wonderful to be sitting around a tiny wooden desk finding common ground and laughing along. very human and very precious. so precious that it does not happen often.



then we moved on to yet another shabby looking little place. but that was wonderful as well. we laughed and talked and joked and all that.



most wonderful though as we walked up to the lightful square sharing what seemed to be the last laughters--my dearest friend and i realized that we spent about 8 hours on the same street and did not get bored once--didn't even sigh. it was such a good mix of everything--of art of joy of warmth--that we did not once check the time to see whether or not the day had gone by.

before i wrap this up several last minute remarks: on a less poetic note, guess what, some genius filed a suit against william burroughs for corrupting the youth. oh i can just see the skiny old man up sitting at a heaven-hell with ginsberg by his side having a mirthless laugh (burroughs has the 'mirthless' i doubt ginsberg ever can). i sure as hell did.

and i honestly don't think i need any introduction on this one: this song boiled up within me a universe and i'm addicted to it for the last few days. so enjoy:



cheers.

600.

we may as well make it a good one.

"drinking the tone of things"

made my coffee, put my slightly calmer tunes on. had a long day that started around 7am which really wasn't that pleasant, to be honest. but there were upsides to it--like visiting a different campus of a different university and walking down a path between two worn out old buildings thinking someone might have walked these roads just as i do walk mine--thinking and pretending to understand life and coming up with ideas that don't fit in their chests. i sat in seats that were some other child's imagined palace.

have been dragging my feet all day. have a few days of for spring break but looks like i should be spending it buried up in my thesis stuff. i feel like i'm doing great readings but everything is floating so high above that i can't grab a hold of it and arrange it properly. it feels like a wasted afternoon where you sit in a library pulling up books as you wish and then dropping them off after a few pages. so you end up reading lots but learning very little.

anyways less whining should be more suitable. i'll take my leave now:

And the old voice lifts itself
weaving an endless sentence.

E.P

bang bang shoot shoot

remembered this song tonight through a friend. remembered how great it was. read somewhere i think it was harrison that said this one of his faves--because a warm gun meant that someone had just taken a shot. or something like that. wonderful lyrics too, if i ever need to say. here, enjoy, make this friday night slightly warmer:

you might say i'm young you might say i'm unlearned

i've been cramping to write stuff for days now and i tell you it's not working. some times you feel that emotion comes strong and then you look back and realize it really wasn't that big of a deal.

i haven't been going to school much lately, last week i almost didn't go at all, and this week already ditched half the week. it helps you to take a step back though and look at the people you spend your everyday life with. they fade away and instead you're left with vague associations. some you see more clearly the rigid, stiff, angry bits of them which you had ignored, or in your head justified, but some people lack love in a deadly manner. i think it stems from longs years of self defense and self preservation. but it is problematic. it is unpleasant.

others you see not as evil as before, you cross out excuses, you make amends, you come up with ways to work them into your lives. you let the anger pass slowly the less you see people the less vital they become so you begin assesing them more as a stranger than a true part of who you are.

and you are always more forgiving with strangers. so sometimes it helps.

it's just that things have been spinning around aimlessly. time feels like it does not pass when you stare outside your room away from the dangerous entanglements of the modern world. but then at certain moments when things pile up and get handled and pile up again you realize time is a tricky beast that only slowly releases its grip so you won't die at his hands. i sometimes at night close my eyes and try to dream of what to be and there is really nothing there. i think i stopped believing that time flows. i feel as entrapped as one can feel in an endless eternity.

i am eternal in my head. i feel like days won't pass i will never grow old and the time to decide (what is to decide anyways?) will never come. i do know what i want, that's the tragic part, but i can not fit it to the daily system. and then i step back, smile and realize that's the best thing that could happen to me. to dream such that is not convenient.

but then again--i am not eternal.

...

"as in our letters" says the comrade and brings herself back to these lines again. my notion of greatness in life of love and hate and friendship and all, i do wish at times i wasn't who i am, that i was different, perhaps easier, less self-indulgent, less needy, and less child like. then i remember i am all those things, and i can not change them now. so i drop a vain tear at the prospect of a roaring friendship had I been a different person.

and come closer now

a couple of things that tonight revealed: 1)you know how you make fun of the american chick flicks where the boy wait for the girl under pouring rain and bam like half an hour later he's totally sick. well. turns out that wasn't entirely a myth. i have a weary headache and was soaking wet to my bones today that later on resulted in a terrible cold. 2)i hate nothing more than someone who repeat somebody else's words to me. especially in criticism. i want originality. i have absolute respect to anything you say--as long as you say it yourself from yourself within yourself. 3)caremel icecream is kinda worth dying for.

you better put it behind you now

sorry i've been a bit quiet lately but lotsa crap and very little inspiration's been happening. will get back as soon as i work a way out of that.

...

awww.



i'm pretty sure the world is a better place now.

when i think about it i don't see how you can

the bands you fall for are like the boys you fall for.

it's a different kind of bonding, i mean, one that pays very little attention to their qualities, to yours, to common history or shared values.

came across by coincidence to the live streaming of a keane show in china (internet is one funny leviathan--there was especially one moment really creepy--they did this beautiful wonderful close up to chaplin's cherub face--it was so strange--because you knew it happened right then and there--more likely right then and there of your time--and of their time--it's actually all happening at the same minute--but you are somewhere else and you watch it through a screen which kills any lively feel to it but it still is alive--anyways, as i said, strange). then i heard of a rumour this afternoon that maybe keane was to come over here to perform some time around june. and if i get to hear those lovely songs live this summer, i think i'll be a much happier person.

i'm all hyper now. add that to bon jovi, and the kings, and looks like i'll be having a wonderful summer. this summer will be the end of things, it will be determining how the rest of my life will be, it will be filled with all these decisions etc etc--what do i care? especially if keane arrives and with their beautiful tunes--ah why would i--for what reason would i--really give a damn?

on my hands and head

i found out today that i crave songs. i mean it--i crave them--biologically, spiritually--this need arises that you usually get towards things that you feel you have to have that very moment--that's how i feel--i face a system shut down if i don't get it in time. my whole world spins around that very song. it doesn't have to be a song or an artist that i would die for or anything--like today i woke up craving six different days. i do like the cure but you know, i don't walk around preaching my love for them. but i literally got out of my bed--interrupting a quite strange dream--and craved for that song.

anwyho i wanted to study today but looks like that'll be a bust--there is a keane show live streaming from beijing that i'm planning to enjoy if everything goes all right. so you know, who cares about all the rest when there's good music to hear, right?

yes, I am nitty gritty and my shirt's all torn

yes i did spent my day doing nothing--first one in ages--skipped school to ensure such. tomorrow also will not include school, but thursday i'm planning to get back on track. truth is i have a vague notion of time and how time passes--therefore i just walk around spilling it here and there, treating days as if they lead to nowhere. i am personally very pleased with such a way of looking at things, but i try my best to survive within the given structure of time.

been reading marx over the last few days (nothing too heroic, i had a midterm in which he took a great part) and i think beyond all the great ideas the man had the best one was his opinions on 'revolution' and how to 'revolutionize' one's ways. i think he is dead on right: the more you try to fight the system through the structure of it the more you fail to do so. by using what they give you you end up becoming a part of that. to revolutionize anything should mean an absolute breaking with its past--with its cancerous conservatism--and to really shake it to its bone. that's why a middle class thinking she/he can advocate change while admitting step by step the necessities of the given day--a good education, a good job, perhaps first an internship, good grades etc--no revolution there. just maintenance.

anywho don't think i have anything else elaborate to share. i've been still struggling with my thesis as before, i think i'm a little over my head on this one. i'm almost wishing that ezra would appear to me in some ginsberg-blakean vision and tell me something incredible that solves everything. but i've been taking him apart--ezra that is--trailing down strange steps like his contributions to newspapers or magazines of his times--this way of placing pieces of the puzzle slowly. been reading him and him only, since i have very little time to do any reading at all. even though i bitched a lot about the whole primary text deal at first, i do kinda like it now. straight down to the belly of the beast. it's tough though, simply because ezra is tough, but i think i secretly enjoy not getting it, and trying to get it, and then trying a little bit more.

and then there's this song. i remember putting a jack white-rolling stones version of it on here but let's face it: the glorified men in their youth were pretty amazing. i thought it would color up somebody's night after all. it has a base, beautiful, naked in the woods type of understanding of love--the man in the mountains, the humbleness, the rawness of mick's lovely voice. a simpleness that i love is in it.

i think there's something slightly mellow tonight. i have these fluctuations of heart i can not fully understand but i'd like to think they are a result of having too much spirit, or too much heart, or something that is too much that won't be pushed down but chooses to ooze of the cracks. now, for example, i am completely at ease and even slightly happy. but half a minute may pass and i can lose sight with anger. makes me wonder if perhaps everyone is, after all, the same?

i really wanted to write a story tonight but that also comes and goes lately, stones in themselves have more of a do than write act to them, but i do have all these feelings that i wish i could put on somebody else's shoulder.




i'll see you when i see you then?

map map of the world

the longer part of the day is done, children.

i came home slightly weary but dinner and a moment to think pulled me back together. then i had this wonderful urge to listen to the lovely tom chaplin's voice. not even the songs themselves (which are no less lovely)but simply his voice. he has this peaceful way of singing that allows you to relax and feel at ease-- this home-like feel to it. besides his incredible technical whatever (i know very little terminology when it comes to these thinks) but you know, he has--a friendly voice. one that you choose to come back to not simply to burden yourself with thoughts but to lighten your load as well.

i really don't have much to say but i like saying things on here anyhow so i'll just randomly ramble. oh first--i don't think i have to tell you how wonderful stones in exile was. it made me think once more of the fact that there are two things that constantly get in the way of one doing what one desire: money and time. have them endlessly or destroy them in their entirety and the whole world will change, i'm telling ya. i think that's what i love the whole rockin and rollin kinda leaving--those two things lose their importance--and you get to do all these other things instead that are not bound by rigidness

besides that the thing i like the least as i figured out today is two people whispering at the end of the table while a whole group of people are right by their side--especially if its about someone who's there. i don't mean to say it as a bad thing--it just winds the crap out of me. i don't like it. i get tense and nervous.

you know what, none of this sounds good. i really shouldn't be writing tonight. goodnight.

...

i think about a few disappointments and some more revelations after i just realized what's wrong with me: once someone says i'm special for them, esp. in friendship, i just take that to be perpetual. i can not integrate that into life, and i can not handle its alterations. for to me you have mostly one or two that are special to you, and once they're special they don't go back to being ordinary--and that's why i pick my words carefully, only when i think i have someone as close as they have me i tend to see them vital, and true--but life evolves, and it is all about what we share at the end of the day--and the things we share run out, or dry out, and then i can't seem to understand that. i'm stubborn that way.

i think after some years in this business i found out that i truly have one 'best' friend. now i have to learn to live with that--not in a way of 'accepting it' but more 'working it into life' kinda learning. but you know you can't be special for everyone--still i wish people were careful--you know--when saying they care.

i really don't mean to sound bitter--perhaps only wise.

start me up

back to being my old self for the day--the usual chilled out laid back version whom i missed dearly. been indulging myself in both jack the wonderful white and the stones-- i will tell you all about all that as soon as i have a minute.

love you all dearly

i mean it

cheers

"i have my freedom...

but i don't have much time."

need to figure out a way to wind down a bit and cool out and not come to hasty conclusions.

...

and then someone tells you that writing is a "know-how" situation. how easily we assume we know everything. how easily do we assume that we can read things through layers and layers of successful analysis, how easily we assume we have the right to tell someone what or how they feel, how easily we avoid direct confrontation--those who says they are filled with knowledge and courage--i laugh. i laugh heartily. and then we say ezra pound was proud.

give me give me give me

on a slightly warmer satrday afternoon--i have to get some work done so i can enjoy stones in exile slightly more in peace tomorrow. until i enjoy that, you enjoy this:

...

i don't know whether the songs become an absolute nothing or whether they become sacred--when all comes face to face with what a father is willing to do for his daughter.

"it all ends in tears anyway"

by chance i found out something i should have known, but these things flee one's mind. matters very little how much love or affection you truly put into their subjects--dates of birth and death and such memorable seconds of life, which to some are blank pages on a calender--and to some, as myself, mystic imaginings of supposed events.

i learnt a few seconds ago that allen died 14 years ago this very day. it is quite depressing here today, to be honest, rainy and all, not at all like april should be. careful though i am not appointing meanings beyond my power to strange happenings, rain can fall regardless of allen's death, or perhaps in a universe more just and poetic than this one, it can rain to commemorate him.

poets come bearing several marks. some do, at least. some you make up marks for. now allen is none of the above, but he in his writing and in any second of footage i've ever seen him (this is what we have today once the thunder is gone: still moments of perfect clear footage that fools one into thinking you now know someone) has been so gentle yet bursting with such-ness that he is often scary. of all those poets who pretend to put distance between themlseves and the world those who stand back a bit--none achieve such frightfullness. it is not a bad thing, don't take me the wrong way. it is in allen's openness that you see something contradicting life--something untamed and excessive and something fearfully courageous--i've seen even in my limited years of age so many who was brave at the moment to sit still or to throw a punch or to mock another but i've seen none brave in telling of love and of emotions.

and for that he scares me. to this day. i have this notion that if i had ever met allen, i would have been terrified to talk to him. but thankfully little consideration is wasted upon matters of such in one's internal existence, and there i've been just as courageous and fearless as allen and have directed so many words and questions to him that we had very little choice but to bond--and i have bonded with him.

and now once such affections are placed, one feels a sudden void in one's stomach on days such as this one.




we are all in one kind of rockland or the other, after all.

and now i'm with you, allen.

...

there are a long list of places i don't belong. this vague notion of a wasted potential i carry which is dangerous for whatisapotentialandwhoamitoholdit? when we all come down crushed people will look back and say 'i spent my life doing the best i could with what i had' and i will alone stand with a trail of broken entranglements and a shelter now falling apart 'i spent my life ignoring and despising what i had so i can pretend i have something else' i will have nothing when the day arrives. only secondary visions and assumed feelings.

exile's letter

seems extremely hard these days to get my points across to anyone--esp. to certain instructors of different disciplines. either i am faulted and way less than i take myself to be, or i truly am genuinely wrong. anywho this lady assumed today that i was--you know what, forget it. good things happen as well: for the second time in my life today someone who saw my pound only the table actually knew who he was. been spending hours and hours with him--pound that is--and been revisiting some of the older stuff:

And if you ask how I regret that parting;
It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end
Confused, whirled in a tangle.
What is the use of talking, and there is no end in talking,
There is no end of things in the heart.

E.P

a bald wig for the jack the ripper who sits at the head of the chamber of commerce

oh the unnerving raggedness of a true hangover.

i feel a bit messy right now--was a waste of space of friday--then saturday was out and about till midnight--hadn't been home for two days when i put my head on the pillow last night and truly appreciated the words 'home sweet home'. that put aside now i am slightly more rested, still a bit disoriented though, had a cup or two of tea and tried to get back on my feet for i have--as always--loads to do for the rest of the day.

let's roll it backwards a bit--friday night. it was a weird day--i had about 8 hours free at school which gave me a chance to do about half an hour studying for the test i have later on--a few hours of enjoying the library and doing research on my dear ezra--much to talk about on that as well--and hang out with a dear dear friend for a few hours. but all that takes its toll on your body after some time sleepig a few hours every night and wasting so much energy all through the day. anywho before i forget--single most amazing thing happened to me all my school life--the other day i was enjoying tea with the company of a graceful lovely friend and there we were talking about random things and BOOM comes out a submarine--yes you heard me an effin submarine--out of the waters of the historic bosphorus. i tell you it was the most magnificent most unreal thing to see it emerge out with such greatness and vastness yet so swiftly and unexpectedly--ah it was brilliant. just brilliant.

then friday night was a spontaneous burst of events. met with some highschool friends--weird how we slowly lose interest in things that once were vital--and you feel a bit out of place and even slightly bored. then met with another group of friends where i fell prey to my tendency of drinking a little too much, couple that with the weariness and i was wasted, no need to fight against that. the overwhelming intensity of the drunken mood usually leaves you exhausted the other day. though the stomach nastiness is so not an upside in these things. anyways long time a coming revelation--i won't be drinking that much anymore. no need. go out have fun and hang out with people but try to control your excitement with life.

the best thing about getting drunk though--after dropping my tough love coffee on the street without having the chance for it to sober me up--on my way back there was rain and i was sitting on my favorite side of the dolmus right by the window--and there comes a dylan song then another on my ipod-- then i just turned on all my dylans and man that feeling. that whole reason of being that fullness that magic. fetched out my ezra and though i was way too drunk to even make out the words i looked through the pages and the photos and all that and put it back and closed my eyes--trying to still keep myself awake fearing i would pass out--but made i home safe--drunk--but safe.

anyways so that was how my life was over the last two days. i do have to say though especially a good friend of mine who somehow always comes around when i feel too tired and too dissatisfied with everyone i know and somehow gives me excuses to laugh. the whole group of people on friday that made me laugh my ass off i do owe to them.

ps: oh man greatest urban story--a friend of mine's friend goes out and buys a puppy--but she takes one from the shelter and not from a petshop. anywho they bring the cuteness home and it won't wake up. it breathes and all but no waking up. they finally take it to a vet and guess what--it's a fuckin bear cup. A bear, man. Hybernating. how insane is that story?

...

just got home after 2 straight days. will tell you all about everything tomorrow.