capital

the syndrome

Long time ago, years ago, when I was a wayward teenager, she told me that I used to behave very alike Istanbul. She compared; "same passion, same vividness, same melancholy, same pain, not that much big but crowded, full of things..sophisticated, uneasy but still worth living.." I used to like cliches, especially this kinds of Istanbul similes..I liked it at the very first moment....Then years have chased each other, and I suddenly got shattered by the fact of the identity change..Another city, another identity, another person.. How have I been becoming this city now calmly, slightly, automatically? How could I take my character off and turn it into a hysterical and a cynical moose?.. I know it is beautiful..I love it..
But I hate the fact that I love it..

"because the sky is blue, it makes me cry"

sinnerman

Again..I went mad and left the house behind, said goodbye to some, hugged the others, got pissed at some others.. I took an endless walk to the train station, fired my endless cigarette and went through the obscuirty of my subconscious.. Again..It ended up sitting somewhere (almost the same place that I used to go in that country) and starting to drink (almost the same taste I used to drink in that fat bottles) and watching but not seeing people (not the same ones that I used to..)..Again..This is the same story line that everyone is familiar.. But suddenly I saw her.. Again.. The same coincidence. I called her name, she didn't recognize me at first. But I pointed at the table and then she just jumped over the safety tape, took a beer bottle, sat down toward me. The more we were aware of not knowing each other, the more we talked like oldschool friends..hours..beers..stories..coincidences..Sometime, someone outside suggests a new story for us, but forgets to tell..and it just makes us feel surprised, and more random and more abnormal. This song is dedicated for our coincidences and the first randomness I met in this country so far.. Is there still any hope?

sinnerman

oh yes.

dead man's road

an

öyle bir dokundum ki,
toz toz oldu, oturdu, dağıldı durduğu yerde.
adı yoktu, neyse oydu,
ve hep bir şeylerden ibaretti-

buğdayın türküsü

confession is good.

of course

you're very welcome.

coffee stories

Marianita -mi guapa.

erik

white rabbit

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all

Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall

old friends.

today is the day

repeating the magic of that

the magic of this

benim ağaç gibi olduğum halim

6 mayıs 1972

Denizler.

recovery