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.