beautiful

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hhX0KkQBW4

Loss and Sex

i'd really love to hear someone analyze Antichrist and Don't Look Now... both movies are so beautiful and horrific at the same time, there are striking similarities and contexts... i don't even know where to begin... i guess it's a showcase of my failure and disability... at everything... because of a lack of knowledge, perhaps?

i'm going to venice one day.

hehehehehe

sad story

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1224189/Caged-human-zoo-The-shocking-story-young-pygmy-warrior-monkey-house--fuelled-Hitlers-twisted-beliefs.html

Ayşe ve Ali

lately i've been busy with a script. well, a treatment of a script. my teacher is understanding when it comes to our incompetence and sterility. he understands that there is absolutely noone who can write a well-prepared and well-meant and well meaning screenplay. this both frustrates and infuriates me. it frustrates me because he expects so less of us. it infuriates me because he just doesn't want to read through 15 full length feature film screenplays, knowing that they are bullshit. he says he will quit teaching this class because it has driven him up the wall and quite likely into the psych ward soon if he doesn't quit.

that's the trouble with old men. besides being a brilliant intellectual, he is a drunk, a drama queen and a closeted homosexual. no matter these qualities which drag him into hopeless desperation for the world and the future of humanity, this is no reason to be so harsh with us. we need all the energy and support we can get. but i guess hoping support and energy from him would be selfish. after all we'd suck him dry and all there would be left is his big red drunken nose and his hanging beer belly skin.

this story. it's supposed to be a location study. we travelled to the slums and ghettos of izmir, to the beautiful agora and historical ruins and old, old houses, hospitals, bazars and streets. the story is supposed to spur from these locations. it's supposed to be a story specifically rooted in izmir and its beauty.

the problem with me is that i have dressed a formal story of mine onto these locations. at first it seemed a perfect fit and i was delirius with imaginative fantasies, the images of my story floating in those locations.

but now as i write it, i see how hard it is to incorporate a location into a film as a character. that's precisely what we should be doing. a location as a character which breathes and sleeps and wakes up and which makes love. izmir is a beautiful place, our teacher led us into those dark and illustrious places, places which we wouldn't have noticed normally. it is an amazing project...

if not for my story. my story is almost an anti-romantic. it's about a couple who comes together, absolutely meant and perfect for each other, for they are both people with dark and disturbing fantasies. they fulfill, they complete the image of each other not as members of society or community, but as the realization of one's darkest, filthiest wishes.

it's not as stupid as i made it sound here. for the story is just a part of what the film should be, there is the location, the city of izmir. there are the faces of these two people, the bodies, their structure and posture. maybe i'll translate the story and post it up here in the future... but at the moment i must take a break from writing and go back to these locations and study them again. i feel that the more i delve into the story the further i get from the locations. i need to redo. reexplore. reanalyze.

a good location study can be found in the film Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow with the absolutely amazing Sophia Loren. there are no words to describe how amazing she is. she just makes me want to eat and eat and eat and swim in a pool of semen and cum.

d.

future of cinema

insomnia without insomnia

Insomnia Splatter by J.C. Hallman If everything behaves as if a sign had meaning, then it does have meaning. --Wittgenstein What for but now send which then Not nor his cut when tend her mend Bend bitch up to whine a mutt Of off hot now send itch, cool witch Lend on him notch an end in fry Warm try how so at less than I and Where over, will lullaby is; Low are the was am my no more Were she at in would wend we soar Do there could he no wonder it, or why.

to lisa

hey lisa

where are you

what happened

there could be several reasons why you've neglected all forms of writing:

1) you've found someone else to write to (possibly a boy, whose letter you wait with 4 eyes (it's a turkish expression))
2) you've someone in your life other than mr. ravi (judging from the last letter you've written)
3) you're waiting for a letter from me
4) you're just sick of the internet and all forms of technology, you don't wanna go near the blare of the computer
5) you're working so much and so hard, that you feel exhausted and/or worn out, and have just enough energy to get on with your daily life and the occasional outing with ravi and friends... and just don't have the time or the energy to get on the internet and write a meaning and long letter to me.
6) you're just sick of writing about yourself, just worn out by the self-centeredness of everything...
7) you've decided to go back to school and you've been busy with that for a whole month and now you just don't have time because of the college parties.

whichever it is, i hope you're well and healthy, and that you're taking care of yourself...

good luck on everything, darling

back to the mediterranean

hello hello

i know

i disappeared

i was in mongolia... not only that, in the countryside, way into the heart of mongolia, to the land where my grandmother was born

it was amazing, didn't wanna come back, didn't wanna leave that beautiful place... it was just bliss, heaven...

and now i'm back... feeling a little disoriented

but all is well, it seems that i was energized and recharged in mongolia... it happens every year i go back... and the funny thing is, the charge runs out around new years... and the 2nd semester of my life, actually my school life which is my life, kinda tumbles on forward, like a child learning to walk and by the time summer has come, i'm a complete mess...

what is up lisa darling? working, i suppose, with all those hormones hehehe, i would think the battle with your hormones would have finished by now, who won i wonder... summer is nasty...

but mine passed on so peacefully and beautifully... and i look forward to autumn and the whole year ahead of me... and to you of course...

love you much much

d.

for the love of icarus!

please please please do!!

come come come!

really! my exams finish around june 17th or something... come any time after june 20th... and try to come for as long as you possibly can...

and definitely talk to your turkish teacher about getting transferred for a year... to learn turkish... i'm sure he can help you out in some way... so that you can stay here for a whole year or something...

an/or come and start at my school... i am so deadly serious you'll do wonderful... go into the fashion and textiles... i swear you will do better than anyone here, there really isn't much of an art circle here, anything you do is going to be top-notch... you can study painting! i swear the tuition is a couple of hundred dollars (i'm serious)... and there is none of the crazy, soul-killing race for perfection and/or race to get above someoene... you wouldn't be coming for the education anyhow, you'll be here for self-discovery, for the mediterannean sea, for the turkish breakfast!!

but of course, all of this is very serious and you have to think about it a lot... i can assure you you will have all my support if you do decide to come here (i'm in izmir, by the way) and...

one thing i can promise: solitude and quietness... hehehe, i don't now... sometimes, silence can be louder than hell but...

and really, living in a foreign country is hard... it is lonely and alienating experience...

but all for the best, i've never regretted...

and...

i gotta say this... maybe i'm doing this for myself... because having you here would be wonderful for me... but i have to think about you too hehehe, just give it a serious thought... talk to ur turkish teacher...

and get back to me on this...

summer at last

summer has come at last, 30 degrees and above... i usually can't stand heat, but since spending last summer in antalya, i have become family with it, missing it and loving it.

and reggae music... with an ocean view from my window.

i miss you lisa, miss your words, miss your presence...

i'm very lonely right now, not a soul whom i can confide to, lean on to...

no one i can hug and not let go...

but it's not a depressing, unsettling loneliness...

it's more balanced and quiet...

not dark and crazy...

cannot wait for the exams to be over...

i'm planning to read this summer, read as much as i can...

i miss literature, it's curtained wholesomeness...

i have been popping pills of cinema, my symptoms relieved periodically...

but of course i cannot deny its power to change from the roots...

oh, have i changed?

only you can answer that, i'm much too subjective to make any conclusions on myself...

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/05/05/080505fa_fact_sedaris

a wonderful article on starting and quitting smoking... kkk... it's a very accurate account of how someone who hates smoking starts smoking.

complications

my little sister

she's going through a hard time, let's just say... and she really needs me this summer. i really wanna be there for her. i either have to go to mongolia or i have to bring her here. but my parents won't give permission coz she's too little and they have it in their heads that i am a physical and emotional mess who needs to be rehabilitated and fixed up every summer. so they want me to come.

yet this year i really really hope that i can make use of a whole summer. i don't want it to go to waste, time is everything, really.

and yet there is a part of me that wants, needs to go back because i may be a physical and emotional mess, or i am from time to time and going back to mongolia helps me out a lot in a way. and on top of that there are my dear grandmothers who long to see me; and i have this fear that i won't be able to see them before they die... which is a terrible thought i know.

and of course there are the money troubles.

if you come when exactly will you come and how long...

there so many factors that we have to take into consideration if we're gonna make it happen. tell me what you want, what you plan to do and your expectations, everything...

i'd love you to come, it would be amazing. it would be out of this world...!

something personal

there are all these fights, all over this world, that you want to be a part of, that you feel you should be a part of, that it is our born right to be a part of... there are the wars, the human rights movements, the '68 student movements, cinema, the new wave, free cinema and yada yada yada... all these monumental, bigger than a life, bigger than us FIGHTS... and then

suddenly

you hear something like a friend from the past, someone who isn't that good of a friend, just a friend, an acquientance... has had a baby...

and suddenly all these fights, the power that is turning the world around and around has suddenly been cut, everything stops, or rather

you stop, and realise that all these things are actually meaningless things...

when there is something as beautiful and as pure as a baby!

and everything is meaningsless and stupid

and all u want is a baby, living that experience, that moment! that fight!!

because the biggest fight is there, in bringing a LıFE into this world...

i'm messed up

i am bill

i find the art scene in turkey too pretentious. i don't like how it tries too much. i am turned off by people and things trying so hard to be something else, trying to be something very shallow and alien. to be an artist one must know his/her roots.

one's roots.

what the hell does it mean, especially in today's world? what does it mean when we are all over the place, when the place of 'finding' ourselves is in a coffee-shop or in a club? when we are losing and finding ourselves, when we are on and off, on and off, all-the-time? if we cannot connect with our surroundings, if we are alienated and used? when the value of a human being is as good as the couple of papers with a president printed on them which he/she carries... a couple of bills... as a token of value, as a symbol of humanity, as an entity. maybe not in america... but this is the truth of the rest of the whole world.

this is the history and the story of the whole world. we think by the day. we think of today's bread money. not retirement plans, not investments for future vacations.

a trash can

cockroaches... now, trash.

i feel like a friggin trash can. full of trash and mess. i feel the need for a make-over. anyways, enough with the bitching.

just saw the wrestler. really, kudoes to rourke. the first time i saw his picture, around the time of the oscar buzz and whatnot, i thought what a fucking mess. his face, first of all, his clothes, those dogs!!!

what was so amazing about his performance was that he made me forget all of my prejudices and actually, truly, completely made me believe in his character, which is amazing. and on top of that he was just SEXY! i am not saying this because of his bulging muscles, i am not that shallow. there was something so human and so irresistable about randy. such raw fight at life, such struggle and failure and remorse and regret.

my english sucks. when i feel insecure about my language, i stop writing. i can't help it. what shall i do.

a cockroach existence

to save myself from this cockroach existence is my goal at the moment. i have to stop eating to eat. sleeping to sleep.

i should eat to continue to realy live. sleep so that i wake up the next morning, wanting to wake the next morning. laugh because it's contagious. work to make my surroundings better, to make the people around me happy, to be of use and importance. i should use my eyes not just to see the pavement in front of me but to see the misery and the beauty of my life.

everything has a meaning. and to not live to experience is something so pathetic and so low that there is no difference between me and a cockroach.

cockroaches

i hate cockroaches. i don't think i've hated any animal, be it a bug even... be it a bug that bites and poisons... it doesn't matter. there's always a connection brought on by sharing the common factor of life. it has a life, i have a life. a living being. striving, too.

but cockroaches.

are they living beings? they seem to me more alien... a machine which has internally mutated over these billions of years. you know how they say that cockroaches have existed from the earliest years/phases of Earth. that they have managed to survive so many eons that it brings the notion of time and even space into bullshitedness.

i am scared shitless by them.

i can't even bring myself close enough to them to kill them.

and so they run carelessly and judiciously in my kitchen. and so i have to tap everything in my kitchen before taking ahold of them. coz you never know from behind which kettle, which basket of bread they will scurry out frantically but robotically.

and my bed has turned into the bed of a chronically spastic person. i twitch and slap and flick at the smallest gush of air or wind over my body. sometimes it's imagined sometimes it's just my hair falling across my face... everything has turned into the attack of the cockroaches.

which is complete madness because they wouldn't come close to a human being, as far as i know... and they have no reason to get out of the kitchen, it's filled with crumbs and blotches of jam and things...

and i think the reason i think i don't like cockroaches is because i fail to grasp their existence. a bee is there buzzing around making its hive, collecting flower juices and whatnot and making honey... they have a queen and workers. in another words they don't exist to exist. they have a meaning. whether or not they do it in a conscious manner is another matter.

and ants.

and wolves.

and fish.

and ladybugs.

they're all part of a world that is earth. but cockroaches. what are they a part of, what is their meaning except to freak me out? what good comes out of them, what bad comes out of them? they seem to have one care in the world and that is to have sex and have as many freaky babies as possible. and to continue to exist to the end. to exist to exist.

they might be little mini tiny bio-mechanizms which were planted on the earth to record the life of the earth from its birth to its death... by ALIENS!!

i don't know. but it seems to me a perfectly sensible conclusion. a conclusion which i believe in firmly.

wine

wine is like music. when you see a musical instrument you immediately fall under its magnificence. with wine it's the same thing. the color encites you just when looking at it. the red of it, the white of it. i never like the color white. i think it doesn't have character. if you argue that it does have a character, it's the character of the rejection of all characters. it's disdain. but white wine... it's not exactly white but nakedness. nudity, not in a promiscuous way but in an innocent and royal way.

always have chosed red wine with my food. it goes well with cigarettes.

i recently saw a movie called: Tout le matins de la Monde. All the Mornings of the World. magnificent. love the cello. it has got to be my favorite instrument. more than the piano and the violin and the harp and the wind instruments. especially when it's deep and brooding. it keeps me grounded almost. it doesn't excite and fool me like most music does. it makes me want to be a better person. kkkkk.

i am tired of myself bitching about everything in this life. when all i have is all that there possibly could be in this world. i have the world at my feet, i have myself at my feet. and yet, i feel that i am scared. and so i back off, almost recoil. why is it that women have this innate fear of being better than our image. fear of stepping out of the frame. or fear of being alone.

i also recently saw the movie The Women. i liked it. i wish in reality life was like that. women actually not backstabbing and pulling each other down. when a man stabs you, it's normal. no matter what you do you cannot save a man from his own fallic ego. but when a woman does it, it hurts like hell, it scares. it freaks. at least it does me.

or maybe i'm just not experienced enough to be talking on this issue and that is the truth.

i know

i know it got quite queer... this is the last thing on icarus that i'm gonna post. kkk. there're not even my things. i don't know. ever since seeing the painting in a lit book in highschool, i haven't been able to forget it. i guess it really tied up with what i was going through in life then... but somehow i have a feeling it doesn't just address to teenage hormonal stage... it's life. remember, the old masters were never wrong about suffering.

but i hope, and this blog thing is in hope of this hope, that one day icarus will fly. without feathers and oil but with his own spirit.