of cats and men

Listening: Boris Midney-Star Wars (Main Theme)

j pop?

Listening: Yukari Fresh- Fat
(Oh how oppressive the mellowness of j-pop is).

new life?

The venerable Mr. Cotton (Nobel laurate, author, father, possible victim of Oedipal trauma) lied to us all, there is no Rilke at the heart of Anatolia, though colorful characters like he described abound.
You may recall my decision to live in style from now on. Well, i started to take steps in that direction. Two floors with a terrace -the view is nothing to write about-, ain't this a step in the right direction? Well now, in six months i'll decide to buy which flashy vehicle to ride
Listening: Fairuz Derin Bulut- Acı Gerçekler
Bedük-Automatik
Tori Amos-Mr. Zebra

Dream a little dream of me

"I lay here dreaming on the carpet, eyes closed with your image in the camera lucida of my eye. Legs spread, arms all in grotesque positions, the lead character of Arturo Ui, frozen in time and space.

Since i first saw you, you’d touched a place in my heart, i ‘d like you as my birthday present,

Minus the package and the drapery- no, nothing base here-, i’d revel in the ivory white of your neck,

Drink from the wells that are your eyes, and suffer your infectious smile. Watch you bathe in afternoon sun, the flecks of dust flying around your head like faerie.

“ Tarry, rash wanton! Am i not thy lord ? “

Instead i lay here framed, eyes closed.



Who was the culprit? Who wrote that scenario?

I ain’t put my goddamn signature in no script such as these, i swear. Friggin’ author, change that tune. I ain’t playin’ no more.

No, i will not fall into hysterics, nor i’ll fall for one –not, anymore-.

I shiver in the thought of your beauty, and i shiver for fear of experiencing that goddamned thing called love.

Thrice damned i’d be, if i’d hurt you, or let me be hurt again. Again, and again, and again.

No, i will not fall into hysterics, nor i’ll fall for one.

As i was saying this, i’d picture myself in my mind’s eye, all black and white and grainy, Torso bare, arms forward, back arched not without grace, all frozen in motion, about to dive.

Ennui, my old friend, i’m about to give.



Instead i lay here framed, eyes closed.

The sun on my face, hot sands attached to my body, the lullaby of waves in my ears.

I open my eyes to see the blue of sea merge with the azurest sky in the distant horizon.

Which one should i dive into?

My heart pounding, “blood in the brain deaf the ear”, overcome with beauty, how could i?

How i liked your quiet beauty, marveled in your intelligence, in your unassuming character, and your idealism,

I fear to touch you, for fear of invoking demons.

I dare not disturb your peace.

O Madonna of rocks, do i dare?

Ennui, my old friend, i’m about to give.



I’d walloved in thoughts lackaisidical, motions mechanical. Y’know, some say, love is spirit electrical.I swear, i’d not fall again for grace theatrical.

I fear, i fear, i fear.

I had to put my house in order, nearing that border,

Which divided reflection from self pity.

I fear to touch you, for fear of disturbing you.

You ought to be a kitty, then i’d stroke you, pat on your belly and go my way, all the while carrying the thought and pretty images of you.

Instead i lie here in limbo, legs all akimbo. Oh God, do i pray?

Instead i lay here framed, eyes closed.



I like your big brown eyes, your squared chin and your short dark hair. I wished you’d not dyed that with blonde. It did not suit you that much. I liked that tiny bead of sweat rolling alongside your forehead when you were talking to me, it gave me all kinds of thoughts, disturbed my concentration, caused me to stutter, i liked your quiet, natural laugh, i liked your sweet and low voice. I liked your modest manners. And did i tell you about that short hair of yours? If so, you should tell. I’m a sucker for short haired women, god knows why.

I fear for myself,

I fear for you,

I fear for ourselves,

Most of all, i fear fear itself.

I could revel in you for eternity and a day,

I mean, hell!

I.

Did.

Fell."
Written December 2005, three years, three and a half heart aches, 500 kilometers and a life time ago
Listening: KT Tunstall-Hold On
U 2- Desire

schule, nein danke!

Listening: Dennis & Die Wilde 13-Schule, Nein Danke!

transitions

Quip(s) of the day: Another period ended, leaving two -three?- heart-throbs by the wayside. Tired of being land-locked, without a sea nearby. Tired of being on emotional roller-coasters, being attracted to drama queens. I just need to be left alone for the time being, i guess -nothing better than another isolated, land-locked spot; for that-. Oh, also, saving some money and buying something flashy to ride may help, too...
Listening: Sherly Crow- A change would do you good & Everyday is a winding road

Latest Impressions

Do you remember "Argentine", that i wrote about? I think that i can spot a reference to "the ballad of reading gaol" by Oscar Wilde in it. And i am getting confident that this song was written about past relationship problems.
Also, she might have listened to atonal music and/ or early masters of electronic music for a time and its my impression that she's an aspiring poet -who might have thought a line here and there in English first, and then translated it into Turkish-.
A side note, -i keep getting distracted by these funny tidbits- her guitarist is an ABBA lookalike who, we are fairly certain, is a fan of Erkan Ogur.
Listening: Yasemin Mori- N'olur, N'olur, N'olur

Daily discovery digest

Listening:
Dub Narcotic Sound System-Fudgy the whale

1990s for me

I was in love with tanya donelly, i was. And i was suffering from teenage angst. Memorized "oceans", "alive" and "black" by heart. Alas, teenage angst.


Listening: Belly- Feed the tree

argentine

Quip of the day: Somebody, somewhere must have hurt this woman badly, for her to compose this song. Or am i the only one reading in between those lines? (Especially the line involving calves and prehistoric men)
Listening: Yasemin Mori-Arjantin

obscure artwork and its importance in publishing

Quip: Actually, piece of German propaganda, produced in World War 2. Observed in a Turkish music magazine this month. That time it was reproduced in B & W and went without credits.
Listening: Johnny Cash- Like the 309

laced cats?

I am a sucker for originality, i am.
Listening: KT Tunstall-Hold On
Credits for artwork: Anonymous female, Ankara, Turkey
Edit: the anonymous artist resides in http://www.lastfm.com.tr/user/PinkProzAches (and she agreed to a link) :)

3, 2, 1, and testing

Quip of the day: "objects of affection observed in rear-view mirror may seem closer than they actually appear".
First thought about three days ago.


Listening: Celal Sahin- Hasso Twist