monday

today is the kind of day i'm just kinda sulky. don't really want to smile if not absolutely necessary. my mind strays and i cannot get into the conversations going on around me. drank too much coffee. it's grey and rainy and maybe the winter that's come to stay accentuates the prevailing mood.

Sunday. Woke up all alone -pretty alone compared to the past week i spent with him-, stepped out to get some coffee beans ground at Starbucks, stopped by Paul's for bread, grabbed a Milliyet to get the sunday news, came back home, with the radio still on because i like it that way, that the door opens to funky radio Oxygen music. Then i put on Sia's album. Breakfast with Sia. Breakfast on my own- although heavenly what with the delicious Paul bread and olive oil, french press and good cheese, i wondered what he could be doing, thinking, looking at. New York skies from an airplane? Some gorgeous flight hostess with too much make-up on? While Sia sang, "Gone away, yesterday- today is a brand new day." Read the papers, became temporarily informed. Tried to digest the past week we spent together, all those sights and scents and sounds. Eating sea-mussels off a tray on Galata bridge. Watching the mosque above, watching my mind wander as the my two favorite guys in the world smoke nargile and visit philosophical realms. It is cold in here today. I'm making to-do lists, i'm trying to keep myself occupied. "Welcome to the church of what's happening now" the music tells me. I realize we are still as innocent as last saturday when i got those white roses.

"Feride, zannederim ki, artık çocukluğu bırakmak zamanı gelmiştir, dedi; şimdi senin yalnız teyzen değilim, annenim de... Buna pek memnun olduğumu söylemeğe lüzum yok değil mi? Sen, Kâmran için, huyunu bilmediğim herhangi bir yabancı kızdan çok daha iyisin. Yalnız... Yalnız biraz fazla havaisin. Çocuklukta bu, belki zararlı bir şey değildir. Fakat gitgide büyüyorsun. Büyüdükçe de elbette ağırlaşacaksın, akıllanacaksın. Mektebini bitirmene ve evlenmenize aşağı yukarı; dört sene var. Hayli uzun zaman. Böyle olmakla beraber sen, nişanlı bir kızsın. Ne demek istediğimi, bilmem anlatabiliyor musun? Ciddi ve ağırbaşlı olmalısın. Çocukluğa, yaramazlığa, inatçılığa artık nihayet vermelisin. Kâmran'ın ne kadar ince hisli ve nazik olduğunu biliyorsun."

everyday things

we want to talk about things. we want to talk about things that require no prior explanation. continuous things. things we've talked about before, say maybe yesterday.
so we talk about our job (a very everyday matter). our boyfriend (even trivial things about him- as long as the listeners are already filled in on the history). our ex-boyfriend (maybe in the lack of a current boyfriend, might prove useful). our family (perfect. family is family. not much history is required but it is indeed, a little boring). sales. winter coats. calories.
we don't like to start from the very beginning. that's exhausting. we want our listeners to be anywere from the middle to the open end of our history.
at least this much i can say for myself.

cure

they say careful what you wish for. (and it's always said in the aftermath, how ironic)
this weekend, if there is something called ginger poisoning, i am a good candidate.
i put it in chicken soup,
fruit salad,
and in milk with cocoa and cinnamon.
there you go, zencephil.

www.jacksonpollock.org

zencephil

i like ginger -zencefil-. it has a place in my life.
it's the restaurant that i have been able to find no alternatives to, in the past few years.
it's what makes me feel better when i get sick, what heals my vocal chords.
when i cook chinese it's what gives the flavor.
when i have sushi it's what cleanses my palate.
it's my dear friend Gencay's nickname, since high school, and he's still under the same nickname on my phone.
i like ginger.

küçükken

evde pecetelere ya da otel kagitlarina yazilmis adresler gezerdi. ben orda orda turistlerle tanisirdim, nasil bir ingilizce konustugumdan emin degilim. adresler degisilirdi ve sonbahar sonu kisa yakin postadan birlikte cekildigimiz fotograflar gelirdi. yilbasinda kartlar. greetings from london. glückliches neues jahr. lyon diye bir sehir.
sonra ben kücükken iki büyük korkum vardi, gece saran ve de uykuya dalma konusunda bana zorluk cikaran. birincisi, atom bombasi. teyzemlerde gec saatlere kadar izledigimiz bir filmden sonra yerlesmis olan bu korku beni bir sure birakmadi ve ikinci korkum olan cehennem korkusunun yerini aldi bir sure. atom bombasindan nasil kacabilecegimi ciddi ciddi dusundugum bir zaman dilimi oldu. bu iki korkuyu nasil yendigimi hatirlamiyorum, ya da acaba yerlerini baska korkular mi aldi? dogustan bize verilmis belli bir korku kontenjanimiz mi var?
ama zaten 80lerde bir korku kültürü vardi. hep birseylerden korkardik, enflasyon, soguk savas, turgut ozal tarzi seylerdi bunlar.
benim icime soguk bir duygu verirdi hepsi, ne olduklarini tam olarak anlamadan.

Something tells me
I can trust in you
There's no pretense
In the things you do
So much water
Under this bridge
And I'm standing here
At the water's edge
Looking into your eyes
I'm crossing the river
To get to you
I'm crossing the river
Crossing the river

You have the longing
Of a broken heart
Shone your light in a room
That was frozen dark
Looking into your eyes
I'm crossing the river
To get to you
I'm crossing the river
And this time I'll make it through

With your faith and your arms open wide
I see you there on the other side
Crossing the river
Of fear and pride

There's no turning back I know
Come so far and I've got so far to go .

-crossing the river, the devlins

Live at Nardis

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8340708636357450383

The Look of Love as sung by
;)
me.

Kurt Elling under the dome of Aya Irini.

i have no idea what this means:
"everything that happens once can never happen again. but everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time."
it's an arab proverb. they really are weird people.

like unfolding a paper and some force folds further as you do

bedtime

This 2.5 metersquare island that i find myself more comfortable, more in place, peaceful and 'myself' than anywhere else in the world. my bed.
-saturday night listening to music and reading my book like a teenager

while he's asleep.

"Such luck to be alive, she thought, and took the train back, humanly invisible in her roomy seat, where she smoked a cigarette and looked forward to being home - home alone, surrounded by all the things and textures that make you familiar, once again, to yourself."

ars longa, vita brevis

A good work of art, music, literature is one you cannot consume and put away. That's why you keep going back to it, not being able to get enough, you go back for more and try to solve the mystery. You try to understand what makes it so good, so compelling and perfect, but you can never quite figure out the ingredients and are left with the only option- read it once again, listen to it 10 times more, look at it for another half hour. That's when they become a part of you; and you're richer.