Modern Eşkıyanın Otoban Sayfaları

 Something as simple as seeing a ring puts everything in a new perspective. Unlocks new thought paths. Some say "phew, dodged a bullet." Some are still in shock and some are extremely curious as to what the fuck happened there. I can't wait for the day to end so I can head out for a ride out, clear my thoughts and then drink myself to sleep.  I am pleased to see that this deep dark fear inside can breathe. Reaches its ugly head out at night, as if to check on me. Done. Now what? Another month has passed. Another age has left its remnants on top of the coffee table and jumped off the balcony. Dead, smeared on the sidewalk. Silent words, silent dreams and unintelligible screams. Been almost a year now. A year, filled with women, recurring work days and somber nights. I don't really think much about it anymore but every now and then, on a night like this, I find myself asking "what if?" What if that door had never closed? What if the path of three years kept go...

 A feeling, a piece of my mind. I see no further into my mind than the sharks circling the shallows. I remember who I am. I remember who I was. Maybe it's still the same and it's just the feel of it that's different. I can either say 'yes', accept it and move on or I can dig deeper into it, looking for a proof, yearning for a closure but to only end up in a bottomless pit, questioning the very existence of such a truth endlessly. It always comes down to Hamlet's opening line. "To be or not to be." For the most part, I managed to choose to be but for some it always felt right to lean towards not to be. Somehow, that self-destructive path always had hidden its insecurities behind false pleasures. Pleasures so ecstatic that refusing its call seems almost impossible. So yeah, succumbing to its beckoning call was and still is my own undoing. Even now, at this very moment, bending the knee seems a necessity in order to utter these very words. For in words, I...

I've had many names. Some still linger. One, uttered by a brother, another by a long-gone lover. One rolls off the tongues of strangers, another by the ones who converse. Yet I find myself in none of them. How is it that something that dictates my existence always carry the weight of the wind that passes by? Both, feels temporary. As if I am yet to be born. As if I am yet to be named. How is it that life feels non-existent? I find myself wishing for time to come to a halt so that I can take a breath, gather my thoughts and feel something, anything. Time is not what it used to be. It used to be that time would accompany me while I took long walks under the dim street lights of the city. Time would fuse into my music and deafen the loud voice of the subway. Time would watch me lay on the grass, surrounded by friends. Time would never utter a word while I stood on the railings of the bridge, wanting to jump. It seemed like time was always by my side. Now, it feels as though, like all ...

 Etiketini yeni söktüğüm bir tişört bu. Yeni bir kulaklık, belki de bir tatil planı. Gecenin köründe uykumdan uyanıp yudumladığım soğuk bir bardak su. Yarım saatlik, bir saatlik, tekrarı fazlasıyla mümkün bir haz bu yalnızca. Peki ya sonrası?  Senelerdir uğramadığım bir köy var. O fındık tarlalarının arkasındaki arazi gibi. Ortasında devasa bir armut ağacı. Geri kalan her yeri ise güneş altında kalmaktan sararmış birçok bitkiden oluşuyor. İnkar edemem, fazlasıyla özlediğim bir manzara. O manzarayı mümkün kılan şeyler özünde bu hazza engel olanlar. Uzun ve engebeli bir yol. Yorucu, ruh emen bir sıcaklık, fındık ağaçlarının isyankar dallarının budanması ve armut ağacı arazisine girmek için aşılması gereken dikenli teller. Oysa biraz yanında suyu berrak ve serin akan huzur dolu bir dere var. O varken neden armut ağacının manzarası daha çok ilgimi çekiyor? Alışkanlık, tanıdıklık hissi mi? Manzaraya giden yolun düşüncesi, dönüşünü de sorgulatıyor insana. Kendi fikirlerim de dahil o...

 7-January  A small child bearing witness to all these thoughts swirling inside. He reaches out for freedom, for relief. Yet it never comes. The more you have it, the easier it gets for it to lose its value. Even begging doesn't help. So, you find yourself downing your third beer of the hour, wishing for an escape. Right then and there, it comes. An idea. A thought. It may not be pure but, a desire. You look back to this exact day four years back. You see yourself, cramped in a small room, watching other people live and feel and with every sip of those beers you wish that it was you who were feeling them, or anything for that matter. Then, you had everything you ever wished for. Even the simplest of your desires came to be. Sure, you felt happy and fulfilled, for a while. But everything you've sacrificed for it kept coming up. That constant sadness that you so deeply enjoy, even though you keep telling people that you don't want to be sad. No, you like being sad. You like f...

 A mind, boggled with conflicting desires and a blurry path ahead is what i have. Here i lay, looking upon the night sky, filled with colorful stars and distant galaxies. Upon this cliff which i lay, i feel good. There is no need for desires or ideas. No need for a path to tread. Yet i know that this cannot continue. Some time soon, sun shall rise again and this appreciated isolation will come to an end. I dread the coming of the day. Ideas and desires filling my head. Not knowing which ones to choose and repeating the same day over and over again. Guidance is what i seek but i see no one and nothing to take my hand and lead me across the land. Some have the strength to guide themselves. Some never know how it feels to be "lost." Is this a virtue that i lack or am i simply made to roam? An abundance of questions comes to mind yet i cannot answer any. I sit up to look at the village i live. Candles in the windows and torches midst the centre sit still in the windless night. Co...

6th April - 03:00  Something along the lines of a new me. What? No, not new. Just me. Me? Let me try to explain the thoughts that belong to "me" as if i have any fucking idea who that is. I am isolating myself and growing lonelier with each passing day. It feels like it's a bad thing but i am yet to make up my mind about it. However the dread and the ever-looming impending sense of doom still lingers around. I feel harmonic. As if i am more than one song, trying to come out. All of them crashing towards my lips yet none comes out. A stasis, if you will. Yes, that is rather fitting. I am where i have always been my entire life. I exist in a state of stasis, surrounded by crafted sorrow and melancholy. Well, it's either that or the impending sense of doom is the one making me feel this way. Then again, here i am, spilling my thoughts and writing. I cannot possibly complain. I had forgotten being myself. I had never even realized that. Why? Did i unwillingly suppress thi...

 Şöhret, şehvet ve vahşet. Günün sonunda gözlerimi kapayıp kafamı yastığıma koyduğumda aklımı esir alan düşünceler bunlar. Kış son nefesini vermeye başladı ve bir başkaldırı başladı. Ne bir endişe ne de bir kuşku. Her şey, olması gerektiği gibi. Adım adım geliyor bir şey. Bu gelen ölüm mü yoksa ölümsüzlüğün başlangıcı mı bilmiyorum. Bilmek istediğim kesinlikle söylenemez. Gözlerimi kapatıyorum ve görmek istediklerimi görüyorum. Sessizlik, savaş, isyan, aşk, tutku. Her birinin sonunda da bir haykırış. Kendisini tekrara almış kelimeler ve cümleler kazdıkları dipsiz çukurun içinde kaybolmayı tercih ediyor ansızın. Nedendir bilmem, son zamanlarda fazlasıyla İkarus'u düşünürken buluyorum kendimi. Güneşe yakın uçtu, kanatları yandı ve düştü. En azından koca bir destan bize bunları anlattı. İnanmak ya da inanmamak ise bizlere kalıyor. İnsanoğlunun engin özgür iradesinin örneğinden başka bir şey değil. Adımlarımız bizim. Seçimlerimiz bizim. Sevdiklerimiz, yaktıklarımız, dokunduklarımız biz...

To feel. I can't feel. I don't feel. Why not? What am i missing? What is gone? Is it a sense of self or is it simply the ecstatic hormonal teenage years that are gone? I don't know. I still feel it inside me. I have it inside me still. But i don't know how to take it out. Maybe it's me, maybe i'm the one shutting it down. And if so, why? Why am i shutting down what i know is something beautiful? What i know, that makes me, me? I've tried doing every single thing. I did. Conversing with old and new friends about life, relationships and feelings themselves. I've tried listening to old songs that made me feel that cosmic existential dread. But nothing. Only a couple words, couple poems. Nothing else than that. Why not? Is it supposed to be like this? Like, i'm grateful, for everything. I have a home, food, a great job. I don't worry about the simplicity of survival anymore. I've got two beautiful souls, beautiful cats living with me. They share ...