kILInc

ruyamda ucan kaplumbagalar gordum. bir tanesi bir kac yuz metre yukardaydi. sonra sanirim baska bir ruyaydi (ayni gece) hindistan'da bir sinemada bir hint filmini turkce dublajli izliyip, etrafimdakilerin anlamayip benim anlamamdan cok keyif aliyordum.

...

yerde kar, gokte gunes, beyaz ellerde gumus kilic.. parildiyor.

oyku oyku ( "dunden sarkma" - ocak 22)

yazim kuyrugunu kovalayan kedi/kopek gibi. baska onemli seyler var aslinda, soyleyebilecegim bir cok baska, daha disariya dair seyler var. ama olmuyor, kuyrugunu gormeden olmuyor yazim iste yine. done done yorulup durup bakinca simdi daha iyi, yerli yerine oturmus gibi disardaki seyler. yanlis motivasyonlarla yazmanin sonucu, yaziyla bir yere cikilip bir sey cozulmuyor, dugumu cozen eller degil, belki dugumu bir kenara birakip etrafinda donduren ayaklar, belki baska bir sey, durup bakmak ya da birine anlatmak belki yazi. cozme zamanim gelmisken, cok kez anlatmisken de yine yaziyorum.
basladim mi yaziyorum.

bir kac kisiyle konusuyorum, evi ariyorum, sonra konusmalar bitiyor, yalnizim, el yordamiyla yalnizligimi ariyorum, hemen bulup giyiyorum. kalin kurkumu, atkimi, kalpagimi giyinip kusaniyorum; ipissiz soguk bir bozkirda yuruyuse cikiyorum. sibirya'da? soguk, insansiz bir gezegende bir tatil hayali kuruyorum. tam olucak, dunyadaki zamana da terkettigim yerden geri girebilsem. kubrick, tarkovsky, lem. solitude is prescribed. (i wrap my ice-cold heart with the cold blanket of solitude, it 's safe now.) life and death are the only colors,

i am walking. ezilen karin sesi duyuluyor, ( o ses kadar ) adimlarimda...

adim adim... yokum varim yokum... .

sunday morning freaks

the sky s gray , the pavements and the road are white with stains,
of the residue of ice melting salt. white all along the euclid,
white stains. construction work on the right side from downtown to the
school. is makinalari standing all in silence, early sunday morning, 8 am.
the noise of the highway coming down, rest is making no sound. i see birds flying
together, no sound again. later on a homeless man groans from the far corner of the
street. just a moment ago a car had pulled over near me, thought he was
checking for a building number or so, he pulled over again as i walked away,
he stared with eyes seeking nothing as his mind perhaps did. didnt look at me
straight. as i continued worried only a bit, he drove away.

i felt my toes aching as i entered my building. i thought of newspapers...
i thought of what i thought a while ago, when the street was
deserted from where i started to where i ended near cafe ah roma.
i thought that it s hard to tell if you are out in the world or
just roaming within your mind, when there is no one outside.. (when there are no faces)
buses passed, saw a few vans, one carrying newspapers - plain dealer- , one getting back
to the comfort inn at the corner.. probably with customers picked up
from the airport.

i thought of a graveyard. i saw an ice cold jesus on my way. i saw the little
colored flags vibrating in the wind. i didnt see no one. i thought of (nothing at)
all*. cold. bitter cold biting my toes.

warm enough only to write these.., i wrote this.

how does it / bob dylan days

yazmadan edemiycem bunu.. tiyatrolara gelenlerle downtown'in o bolgesinin kalabalikilastigi bir persembe gecesiydi, kar serpistiriyordu, gecen donemin sonuna dogruydu.. finallerden once. pusulam sasirmis gibi savrula savrula eve donerken ugradigim bufeden kendime bir corned beef sandvici almis icimden - "how does it feel..." diye mirildanarak dukkandan henuz cikmistim.. arada tiyatronun girisinde muzisyenler olur, cogunlukla da ya kotu calan bir saksafoncu ya da trompetci. ilk defa gitarli birisini gordum.. gormeden de duymaya basladim. to my surprise:

"... to be on your own,
with no direction home,
like a complete unknown..
just like a rolling stone."

"how does it feel"

a song

ootishenia - the be good tanyas and all other songs i have uploaded to mom's pc.