antonioni

i make it into footnotes. for recognising a clown. this is the good thing about it--it is like a secret but not-so-secret society--you only need a glimpse and you know each other.

excuse me, would you like some eternal bliss? here, please have some.

(kick on the ass?)

she drops and rises, darkens and lights up in split seconds. and then there is stillness and transparency but then again movement and shadows. hmm. am i deep or what?

(another kick? double the force.)

now i need to come to terms with the female. can i remain the clown to which i am reduced (or augmented which is a sad possibility) and be the woman that i guess i am?

wanderlust king

the moon continues to be mine though I haven't said much lately. just a warning to those who might think I have given up.
(da dahi a hum durunda durunda durunda durundaaaaa i ahi a)

something's gotta hold of my heart

I need Italian men. Lots of them. Preferably old. I wonder if I could persuade the father and sons at the cafe near senate house.

I am Venus today. Granted, my children.

The eyes. Eye-solation. "He looked at it with...hatred. Yes. He looked at her in...surprise! Yes, surprise!"

I've never been so lucid in my life!

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.

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.

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.)

hunger

the clown must return to the scene of crime. the net.

perhaps a mirror? or a bottle of wine? dionysus reclines--yes, to offer pain and pleasure to his guests. I only want to make you alive. If only momentarily.

a being that is close to the ground. the child is there, waiting, listening, scheming. now that is a coup de theatre.

not yet at 'I could have,' still at 'I can.' not 'I almost did,' but 'what if I do.'

caddeden sokaklara

now. after having done what he has done--or having remembered what he has remembered--shamed and ashamed the clown resigns with the chair dragging behind. moment of recollection moment of recognition confrontation potrei aver ucciso tutti, yes, right.

but he stops. coup de theatre as the resident dramaturge likes to call it. she counted three today. (I am a revolutionary.) he stops cause he forgets again. that is the problem after all. it could all happen again.

stops to become: the statues are alive. I I I I could have I I I ...am poseidon I am venus etc. etc.

caligula defines the tyrant (mind you in a conversation with the young poet): he is the one who compensates for the stupidity of the gods.

so no. the fear is ungrounded. there is nothing about the work that pities the tyrant. even when you subtract the tyrannizing.

parmenides vs heraclitus

mimesis sui generis--mimesis sui genesis

republic'i buldum ne güzelmiş hatırladım.

"but first of all we should supervise the storytellers." you'd better.

ayrıca anladım ki bütün derdim animus'umla. clown da tiran da erkek. niye böyle?

kostüm bulundu bugün. pek benzemiyor ama güzel. ben çiçekli olsun istiyorum.

oyuna gelen herkese çıkışta bir tutam saçımı kesip vereceğim.

herşey tekdir ve vardır ve o kadar. nedeni de şu: şimdi olmamak olamaz, çünkü o zaman o olmayan şeyi düşünmemiz de mümkün olmazdı. olmamak diye birşey yok o zaman. (bu ilk inconsistency.) çokluk da düşünülemez, çünkü çokluk ne? a, b, c, d, koloupou koloupou, falan filan. o zaman a b değil b c değil diyor oluyoruz ne olmadıkları hakkında laf ediyoruz. bu olamaz. olamaz. çok da yok. herşey tek. (burada onu kaybettik.)

oysa ki öteki diyor ki: uyuduğumuz zaman olmayana dokunur onla sohbet ederiz, uyanıksaksa sadece o uyuyan adama bakarız. (uyu daha iyi demeye getiriyor.)

ben bu ikinci adamı daha bir sevdim.

dancing with the whales

şimdi:

benim balina görmem lazım. meğer balina görmem gerekiyormuş, bilmiyormuşum. hatta mümkünse mavi denizlerde böyle yunus gibi sıçraya atlaya yüzen bir su aygırı ordusu.

bunu establish ettiğimize göre:
beyaz, bembeyaz balina. bu da polar bear gibi birşey olmasın?

belki bunlar mavi denizin beyaz köpükleriymiş. kim diyebilir?

ne dolunay, ne hilal. ayın böyle tırnak kadar kırıntısına kalmışız meğer. ne yapmalı. gün mü saymalı. aylı aysız, sonrası deniz.

il capitano

an extraordinary man has the right

that is not an official right, but an inner right

to decide in his own conscience to overstep certain obstacles.

an extraordinary man has the right.

--says raskolnikov in crime and punishment, dostoyevsky

the brand new tennessee waltz

he calls them invites them makes the circle.
then the trick with the snake. we all know how those things end.
then he has a choice: he can pretend it never happened and try to become one of them, or he can just leave.

either way he makes his way, with every one, to another room.
there is a chair, a white chair.
has he been here before? perhaps, but not the chair, no no no, he has never ever seen it, or…
what have I done? what have these hands done.

he leaves dragging the chair behind. looking for a place to hide.
or perhaps to disappear altogether. he wanders till he finds himself at the foot of a ladder going all the way up to the moon. what is a man to do?

caligula, the actual one, gets his bust made, thousands of them, and orders that the heads of statues of gods and goddesses be broken and replaced with his heads. now that is what I call iconography in performance.

and he says in the end, really, ‘I’m still alive.’ no wonder.

desperately looking for a melody

selim sesler derler ki:
can you move break the rhythm sing play and dream at the same time?

kid koala cevap verir:
there is a snake charmer. charming. and charmed.

dead can dance is applauded. every single time.

what is the tune, I ask. schehrazade? nooo no no. too orientalist. something made up? nooo too jazzy. uskudar'a gider iken? olmadi. yine bir poll'la karsi karsiyayiz.

olmasi gerekenler

ice donuk ayaklar. canin mi yaniyor. yoksa balerin olamadigindan mi. yoksa olmus musun? (as in have you died. ama double entendre mumkun.)

cagirmak. bir suru insan. gulerek. parmakla.

bir merdiven.

bir hikaye. you come upon it. istemeden. kazara.

bisiklet. tekerlekler.

yine ruya gordum, cok acik.

ayakkabi tabani. ayak tabani. dayanmak.

ve sarkisini arayan monsieur donc yanlis yere gelir oradan kacar sonra bir suru japon kadin onu kacirir. o fotograf. neyse ki. (as in luckily.)

ve ben ne menem bir hayvanim. bu soru baki.

herkesler yalniz kalmadan birseyler yapmak lazim.