epeydir son bir kac ayda yazdiklarima bakip biraz utanc duyuyordum, yaziyi kullanis seklim biraz utanmasizca gelmeye baslamisti. o his gitti ama dusundurup buldurduklari sabit. ozellikle su son sIkIntILI zamanlarimda yazarken, yaptiklarimi, dusunup hissetiklerimi dogrulamak (justify) icin yaziyordum gibi geldi. kendim (hissettiklerim) hakkinda (dogrudan) yazmamak gibi bir prensip edinsem iyi olacak sanirim. yazasim geldiginde yaptiklarim, benim disimdakilerin (muhtemelen/cogunlukla kurgusal) hissetikleri, yaptiklari ya da daha baska seyler hakkinda yazsam daha saglikli. belki tutamam sozumu yine yazarim ama olsun.

.. (saat farkiyla: )

yere uzandim, bir kac gunun yorgunlugu uzerimden akar gibi oldu.


"everything's gonna be alright."

.

(bonn)

aci cekerken bir yandan da aynadan kendime bakiyorum, bir seyler yapmayi hayal ederken yanliz yapmayi degil, bir yandan da kendimi bir seyler yaparken hayal ettigim gibi. bana bir sey olmaz mi demek bu, bunu yapabiliyorsam. yoksa birseyler eksiltiyor mu ben farkinda olmadan; kendime bakip durmaktan, ne olduguna bakmiyorum; olanlari sindirmiyorum icime, erteliyor muyum; kalici bir cozum mu bilmiyorum.

tam benim bu aralar yazasim yok, ihtiyac duymuyorum eskisi gibi diye dusunuyordum. gereksiz yere, kendime ceki duzen vermeme yarayacagini dusundugum kucuk gerilimleri desarj etmemem daha iyi olur derken... simdi buradan yaza yaza daha buyuk bir seylere baglamaya calisiyorum kendimi.

- trains ( unstoppable)

s.,

about what you wrote on 10/10 :
among two humans, i dont think anyone(/i) can ask/wish for more (simply because there isnt).

i hope i (what i had written) had been able to get even a little closer to that. i dont only lack talent...

and besides, it s like, this (this thought) is a unique substance, there cant exist any more than one, when someone says (/thinks) you matter, you cant think you matter at all. (since you dont need to.)
(maybe that's why it's so ...)

not: i know you know, but wont feel comfortable without saying it, never meant to be 'mysterious', never carried a mystery than anyone can find anywhere.

- it s midnite here, biraz basim agriyor, zeki muren'den annem sarkisi geliyor aklima, cocuklugumdan; onu dinledigim bir yaz ogleni, ayni insanlarla apayri bir dizilise giren hayatin simdisi, o zamani.

-

at the time, i was in california, rolling down to one of the deepest points of despair in my life. anything earthly would not help me, so i was trying to hold on to the unreachable. i d dreamt of going to cuba with no money, no spanish and starting over there, stripped of what i can survive without. (that perhaps being the closest to 'the real'. ) i dreamt of slowly disappearing on a map, around southeastasia. i dreamt of 'saving burma'. i dreamt of going back to Turkey to the core of my troubles and settling there.

then still down, with bitterness of what i had gone through but at a more stable mood, i dreamt of being a housemaid in yllw tlp's apartment, with no obsessive aims; i was exactly wanting to be the housemaid, a mute housemaid perhaps. i thought of myself living in a paperbox at a corner that i recalled from one of the posted photos . i wasnt dreaming any dialouge, any interaction, i was thinking of the situation as having been internalized (by default). it was (/is) in a way similar to what old time 'murids' did. not in the same scales perhaps (,thinking of my side). it is funny now, while telling this, though it is not (any of these; ) funny, sad or seriously thought!:) by itself (without telling it).

...

Soñando

De cara a la pared

Se quema la ciudad

...