eternal sunshine of the photographic mind

I keep dreaming of photos of people I've never met. It's been weeks... I'm in some of the photos myself with these strangers who seem to know me. And each time I wake up, I feel a sudden urge to take a few shots. I wouldn't mind if I was a passionate photographer or if I had due respect for photography, but I don't even have a single working camera. My manual + digital + video cameras are broken purely due to negligence and these broken guys are in Istanbul, far from my reach. I'm trying to attain some sort of meaning to this but interpretations are useless. I guess I'll get a functioning camera and see where this goes. 

photos of Berlin Film Museum

dreams are overrated

I'm dreaming of a man who is thinking. I'm thinking therefore I exist. The man in my dream is thinking as well, so I know he exists too. He's as real as I am, which is a pity, because now I imagine that this man is dreaming of me. So when this real man dreams of me, I become nothing but a dream.

ihsan oktay anar

relief...

when the dark side calls, do you answer the phone?

If there is one thing that bugs me more than artificial-happy-faces, it's the life-is-a-lie-let's-go-suicide attitude. There is especially one certain profile with this attitude that I keep mentioning in my posts because I keep bumping into the same prototype again and again in different countries, genders and ages. I'll try to paint a faint picture of this prototype so that you know what you are dealing with in case you meet a similar person.

Our protagonist is a social, funny and easygoing character, at first sight. He (or she) sticks out in a positive way and gets a lot of respect from his fellows by being the center of attention as the good guy. He has a humble child-like smile with half-lit eyes that people can't resist. Some even call him an angel. And they have a right because he believes himself to be an angel, sometimes... When you ask for help, he'll do everything in his power to help. He is clearly on ''the good side'', sometimes. But sometimes, you catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. You notice him sharply disconnect from the world and get lost within his own separate dark dark world. The sudden pessimism gets so disturbing that you feel as if he has a serious disease that no-one can cure. If you try to understand/share his burden he'll either look down and say "everything's all right", or he'll trust you and pour his broken soul out with leaving you no way out for years and years to come.

Now why does he do that? And "why not?" some of you might say... After all it's only normal for someone to share the part of his iceberg that's under water only with people he feels close. The difference with this guy is that the two separate parts that make him are alarmingly contradicting. And non of them is more real, they exist side by side. And if you happen to be on one side, you are denied the other. Nothing against you, it's a precautionary measure. So if you happen meet him above the surface with all the smiling and "normal" behaviour, that's all you're gonna get with occasional out-of-the-air fade outs. Enjoy your standard friendship and stop reading. But if you somehow happen to meet him on the dark side, you must know that...

This guy is a hard-core pessimist about himself and about life. He'll keep reminding you how sad the world is. And he'll drink. And he'll write. And he'll sing. And he'll think highly of drinking, writing and singing. He will appreciate it very much if you drink, write and sing with him. He dedicates and appreciates, that's what he does. He'll be forever in debt if you cry when he does. But he'll want you strong as a rock. He'll want you to be a happy figure. But he won't let you see him smile again. He'll treat you as God and see himself as the suffering prophet, and will keep telling you stories that haunt him all through his life. He'll repeat repeat repeat the same dead-end parts of his holly book until you memorize and internalize. He'll quote and cite and refer to hopeless-case-songs and will revolve everything around one giant obstacle that he believes he cannot overcome. If it's your first time you will be touched by this sincerity, you'll applaud, and shed bravo's as the drama-queen performs. You'll abide by the nonsense rules of being an audience and honour his request to keep silent. You won't know that this is contagious. You won't be able to put your finger on the reason why looking down the edge doesn't feel right. You'll just feel the gravity gripping stronger on you. But if you can pull yourself out even for a while, you'll notice the monstrous black hole ahead of you. When you start running away he'll call out to you with his irresistible child-like smile that he saves for emergencies like this type. When the good and the dark sides call at the same time, you'll go back. You'll go back to fall apart, and then to start again. Fall apart and start again. Fall apart and start again so many times that neither falling apart nor starting again will mean much for any one of you anymore. Things will get ugly. He will prove to you how sad the world is. But you'll eventually leave never to come back again. Then after hours and days and months and decades, on a bright morning, in a different country, you'll meet the same person with a different name, a different age, and you'll wonder what it is that attracts you to this new person with the child-like face.

your future is served cold

Make a single wish.

That's what I tell people before I tell their fortune by looking at a cup of coffee dust.

It's not fake, I don't make stories up. The stories are already there. I use those weird shapes in the cup to sharpen my perception of the person looking at me with hope-seeking eyes. I just let my imagination go wild to see their intentions better. And when they believe that I might -only might- know what is to come for them, their intentions are glass clear. When they become visible, their stories become visible. These people let their ridiculous walls down. They voice their fears. They breathe faster.They ask for what they believe will carry them to the highest rock they can imagine. People, and money, a different life and more people. Very, very basic and usually innocent... It's easy. Anyone who listens close enough can tell anyone's future because every story and every person is predictable...

invierno perfecto

I woke up to the sound of the storm (vuuu VUUU) at 5am (2 hours ago) and the sound is getting wilder as hours go by (VUVUVUVUUUUU)... I love it as I'm looking down to numerous red & green roofs with white smoke coming out of their chimneys, and the foamy fog, unable to hide the colored lights on top of the hill across. I wouldn't be surprised to see Santa Claus riding on the small piece of mad sea next to the hill. I can't wait to put the mix CD on that a taxi driver gave me today just because I liked it (the content ranges from James Newton Howard to Sepultura), but it's too early for any sound besides the sound of the storm inside the house...

Anyway, I peeked into my favorite caricature weekly a minute ago and came by a brilliant sarcastic article that I really wanted to share with you but I couldn't find an online version to post here. It's the perfect anatomy of a metaphor & melancholy lover elaborating on how the grief mafia abuses ellipses (meaning three consecutive dots). It's in the first patch of Uykusuz archive which you can find in any bookstore in Turkey: Fırat Budacı "Bak açsan bir bir yıkılıyor radyolar" 2007/08. He is one of the best critiques I've known. Crítica perfecto... ... ... ...

Anyway, it's 8am, and the wind is advancing to a whole new level outside. It's time I put on my wool armor & plastic shields, and go out to get soaked wet nonetheless.

riders on the storm

Tell me...

Do you believe that you are out of line?

Do you believe that you are out of the box?

Do you believe that you are somehow not normal?

Do you believe that -despite how it looks like on the outside- you are an outsider?

Do you ever wish that you are actually in a war so that you can bring out what's hidden in you?

Do you want to live in the past centuries because that's where you belong?

Do you feel like finding yourself in the middle of a jungle, completely "lost", alone with nature?

Do you laugh like mad when you are challenged by someone or something or merely your mind?

Do you have a sick obsessive unruly relationship with someone who brings the worst out of you?

Are you thrilled when you see people ripped off in horror movies?

Are you addicted to simulations of mystery?

Are you addicted to safe simulations of struggle and pain?

Do you feel alive when you put things at risk?

Do you feel like going away?

And more,

Do you feel that you are unique in wanting these?

Well... you are not.

On the contrary, there are TOO MANY of you.

TOO MANY...

So please stop acting like you are one of a kind...