dream a little dream (of me)

quicksilver of the winged shoes

the thief

the messenger

the bringer of dreams

this one clown

sees some one, falls in love, inevitably...

loses her, has to become her, otherwise...

now at times like this you need a voice: to call. to persuade. to charm. to lure.

guess the tune:
bir sürüüüüü bir sürü öpücük veeeeeeer...

bunu da banu alkan'a sattık mı yırttık.

mnemosyne, lethe

the despotic signifier has the effect of overcoding the territorial chain

coding pain and death, it has foreseen everything--except for the way its own death would come to it from without

the resident spectator calls it 'one of the best accidental encounters ever'

and that encounter is with napoleon, in the worst weirdest best woody allen film ever.

Napoleon: This is an honor for me.
Boris: No, it's a greater honor for me.
Napoleon: No, a greater honor for me.
Boris: No, it's a greater honor for me.
Napoleon: No, a greater honor for ME.
Boris: Well, perhaps you're right. Perhaps it IS a greater honor for you.
Napoleon: And you must be Don Francisco's sister.
Sonja: No, you must be Don Francisco's sister.
Napoleon: No, you must be Don Francisco's sister.
Sonja: No, you must be Don Francisco's sister.
Boris: No, it's a greater honor for me.
Napoleon: I see our Spanish guests have a sense of humor.
Boris: She's a great kidder.
Sonja: No, you're a great kidder.
Boris: No, you're Don Francisco's sister.

millions of thanks to margo, who is not margo. as was written on a high school notepad, still perfect after all these years...

tik-tak

dramaturgically speaking, we are at our top form. roman dish-well. teasing-feastly. moon-seek-ful.

but I have lost my rhythm.

I need my sister's metronom that looked like an antique. not the thing actually, the box. I mean I need the thing but the box looked like an antique.

and then there are the three braids of cut hair.

then the dress my cousin gave me with the animals. and the nice back.

I cannot go home. home has to come here.

kouloupou kouloupou

şimdi: thought-fox'un gittiği yere gitmek cesaret ister, her baba yiğidin harcı değildir.

merdiveni tırmanıp tırmanıp inmeye hazır mısın?
birini dinlemeye bakmaya hani kendini unutmaya?
onun şarkısını duymaya kendin söylememeye.
özlemeye, yanındayken özlememeye, yetmeye yetinmeye.

bu da yemin gibi oldu...
hazırım, doğruyum, yasam kendimi aşmak, soul-searching yapmak, kimseyi ama kimseyi insufficiently amourous hissettirmemektir!

şimdi, bence, gittiği gibi gelsin, ama çabuk gelsin, ve n'olur beni bulsun. eudaimonia.

major/minor

the ladder can accompany singing. like one of those wooden things that go trtrtrtrtrtrt.

the smile at the foot of the ladder comes from the very same depth: the desire for the impossible. the clown who wishes to impart everlasting joy is as tyrannical as caligula who wants to give meaning (and happiness) by showing how it was never there to begin with.

"the striving for distinction brings with it..." and nietzsche draws a whole process like steps up a ladder.

as self-destructive modes of being wear off I get more and more scared of heights.

(another new thought: we need the absence of tyrant: the whore and the poet boy.)