deviantART: by:otisagabey http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:otisagabey&section=today deviantART RSS for by:otisagabey en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Tue, 29 Dec 2009 13:50:11 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png Not so Personal Blog. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/20737473/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/20737473/ Mon, 29 Sep 2008 08:12:14 PDT
[link]

]]> ~otisagabey Istanbul Yolcusu http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/17179444/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/17179444/ Tue, 04 Mar 2008 12:33:31 PST
]]> ~otisagabey Annem'e ACELE Aciklama http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/15562196/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/15562196/ Sun, 18 Nov 2007 12:16:24 PST
"...
senin deviantart'daki sayfanda gordugum resim beni epey sarstı.
herhelde fotoshop ve daha bir suru teknikle kendini gelistirmissin.bu her erkegin icinde zaman zaman depresen bir fantazi olabilir.
Ama sen bu resmi hemen silmelisin.gelecekte bu resim nedeniyle pisman olabilirsin.
Cunku hayatın insana nasıl bir gelecek hazırladıgını bilmiyoruz ama belki unlu bir yazar,unlu bir politikacı veya baska bir konumda olursun ki boyle bir resiminin
oldugunun bilinmesini istemeyebilirsin.
niye bukadar risk aliyorsun.sen zaman zaman aklını basından alan , yanlış yapmana sebep olacak bir madde veya hap mı kullanıyorsun ? endiseliyim.
lutfen iyi dusun.Varsa kotu bir alıskanlıgın henuz daha genc iken vazgecmelisin.
hatalı ,dogru olmayan, geri donusu zor olan bir yola gırmissen eger bu benim icin, ailemiz icin yıkıcı olur.
sana bunları telefonda soyleyemedim ama gordugum resim beni bitirdi.
zaten daha once de I am a beatiful girl,hey hey I am your wife gibi tanimlamalar bile anlasilir gibi degil di .bu ne yahu diyordum.lutfen bana ACELE acıklama yap.
Bence sen en iyisi buraya don .demekki orada iyice yoldan cıkmak daha kolay..
Her ne oluran ol seni seviyorum ama boyle beni utandıracak durumlara dusmanı hic ama hic istemem. istemem.istemem..
kendine gel.her bakımdan temiz olmanı isterim.
akıllı,normal,kendi kendini idare edebilen,duygulu ama ayık,entellektuel kulturlu ama marjinal değil.makul,edepli,saygılı,yetenekleri ile gundemde olan
su dünyada kalıcı iyi bir iz -eser bırakabilecek bir adam olmanı isterim.
bana cevap yazmanı bekliyorum."

Annem'e ve ihtimal annem gibi dusunen 3. sahislara durumu soyle izah edeyim:

31 Ocak tarihli Heloviin nam Cadilar Bayrami'nda erkekler kadin, kadinlarin erkek kostumune girmesi Amerika'da standart bir pratiktir, homofobluguyla taninan frat gruplarindan sororitylere kadar toplu olarak kiyafet degistirilir, herkes guler, eglenir, kizlar erkeklere "simdi anladiniz mi topuklu ayakkabi sorunumuzu" der, erkekler kadinlara "simdi anladin mi erkek egemen toplum kafasini" der, bu vesileyle yakinlasma tahsis edilir, kadin kostumlu erkekle sevismek isteyen kadinlar birbir tespit edilir, ertesi gune dedikodu malzemesi olur, falan fistik.

Temelinde bu "kilik kiyafet ve statu, konum degisimi" geceleri animist toplumlardan bu yana hep vardir. Kole topluluklarinda bizde dengi Hidirellez olan, St. John's day de koleler efendiler gibi giyinirler, kadinlar erkek, erkekler kadin gibi giyinirler, boylelikle "oteki olmaya dair merak" ayinsel yapi icinde gerceklestirilerek mustehcen kabul edilmeden aradan cikarilir.

Ama Amerika'dan Turkiye'ye yayin yaptiginda tabi ayin, rit sablonundan cikiyor "hap a baslamis, fantezili" erkek tablosuna donusuyor. Annem'i bu komik mailindan oturu cok opuyorum, turlu sevimlilikler yaparak yanaklarini mincirmak istiyorum, istegi uzerine de sayfami degistirdim, heteroseksuel dogru olmayan yanlis seyleri yapmaktan kacinan, edebli, iz birakan biri olmaya kenetlendim.

]]> ~otisagabey Many Obstructions without a Reason http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/15514671/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/15514671/ Wed, 14 Nov 2007 23:42:18 PST
Am I allowed to write this?

I don’t know who or what gives me the authority to write about anything. As the literary people like to call it, there’s the editorial restraint, personified by a couple of people with their voices in my head. If I let them speak, they tell me: "No, no, no. You can not write about this." Why not? It's only after I bother to ask why they bother to start thinking of a reason why I shouldn’t write.

Would you please note the irony? I know that I am not allowed to write even before I decide why I should not. There must be a reason why I shouldn’t write, only I have to discover it. That process alone must signify something profound, but now is not to think about it. If I do, I might stop here and now, like I do most of the time, and can not write. So I will try to write about mostly those who tell me that I can not write, perhaps I might hit upon the profound along the way.

The first obstruction is the empty page, that many other that came before me have often referred to when they, too, chose to write about writing. Blank Word Document, is the holiest of holiest text in existence. Just like the God, it is the greatest authority on outlawing and disallowing heresies because of its Cartesian a priori state of being: it exists by not existing, and so is perfect like Nobody is. By that token, it resists being tread upon, being defaced, desecrated, enduring many outlandish attempts aiming to spoil its ultimate perfection by making something out of its nothingness. A Blank Word Document is so powerful over me that if I had to start worshiping something today I would worship the Blank Word Document. The empty page whispers the voice of idealism, If something is not worth writing about, then thou shall not write it.

But we protest: How can we know when it is safe and okay to write if we can't write? "It’s like falling in love" the voice says, "when it happens you’ll know". In my experience the glorified celibacy of the creative process results in the violent rape of the white page (and why do I remember Bedri Baykam and Catholic Priests all of a sudden?), only when the urges and whims get so overbearing that we take no heed of the much celebrated editorial restraint and surrender to the Dionysian drive in order to write. And I mean that in a good way.

Idealism thus in a discombobulated manner leads the way to graphomania and primitivism. Of course, in the aftermath we find many ways to justify what we have just done, much like the way we have always done before. One party favorite is the appeal to possession by the muses from the idea plane. To some Greeks that made those sudden peaks seem otherworldly, and so, pure. Somehow here seems like a good place to mention how much they like to repeat God's name in porns, in a vain attempt to compare and contrast impure and mundane attempts that include Gods during and after the process.

As a way of circumnavigating around the great emptiness my greatest trick thus far is to avoid looking at what I have written and write really reallreyalealyfst. Not looking at the screen always works, as a matter of fact, I’ll try it now. Okay I turned off the screen, dimmed it all the way to pitch black, and now, I can confidently say I am writing in total darkness. )QIQ U s, mpy ditr og yjod od tohjy@_

Although it had been achievable in many circumstances in the past (the lack of proper illumination, so on) I think most of the writers until now did not have the luxury to avoid eye contact with what they have written. At one point or the other a writer could and would, stop to read what has been written so far, and that’s where the ultimate authority of the empty paper gives way to that oceanic feeling of "What have I just done?". You think, and I paraphrase liberally here, What the fuck am I talking about? What do this all signify? Who would want to read any of this? Do I want to read this? Does this mean anything to me other than reading a transcript of the voices in my head?

The last question is the most notable among all, since I decide to keep on writing and publishing because I like to read the stuff off of the screen with their designated voices in my head. Many of those who bother to read what I've got to write often say, "You seem to be writing in many different voices and styles". That, I do, since I have many different voices in stock who tend to take over another. To me the voices in my head that prompt me to write is a bit like the method actors motivation: There’s a motivation behind all things in the causal world framework, and the accumulation of motivations give the voice to a characters. In that light I think I actually have quite a bit of them, which makes me mildly schizophrenic. Other than the usual massacre and craziness th... ]]> ~otisagabey Asil yazmak istedigimi yazamadim ama olsun http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/15208697/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/15208697/ Wed, 24 Oct 2007 21:32:37 PDT
Yukselen savas histerisi, bayrak/kurdele/ata avatarli feyzbuk milliyetcileri, medya saksakcilari/cigirtkanlari, f16 kaldiricilar, tank indiriciler, ermeni olunce ermeni olmamiza icerleyip turk olunce hangimizin turk oldugunu sorgulayanlar, onlarca yildir yasadiklari okuldan eve, evden aleme, iste eve, evde aleme seklidne yasadiklari hayatlarin orta sinif dusunsel himbilligindan, birikim sigligindan siyrilip da karsilikli ayar musabakasidan ote bir uzami, derinligi olmayan futbol tartismasindan ote diyalektik ve sorgulama kurulumu olmayan ajite bir ortamda dunyanin en ahmak, en cahll, en tintin adamlarinin getirdigi kanaat gevislerini "dusunce" olarak yasayan, yasatan ve geri kusan dostlarim, cevrem ve duydugum kayginin desibelinden, oktav araligindan bahsetmek istemiyorum.

Zira, aksi gibi, gotluk edercesine geri gelen ic huzurum, kitir nesemin bu tip soslara banilip potibor gibi dagilip gitmesiden korkuyorum. "Ay bu halk adam olmaz" diyip elitist dunyalara, kacisci hulyalara cekilsem, su garip keyfim affolur mu?

Kisa tutamayacagimi bile bile ozet gecmeye calisip bu mecburiyeti savsaklayarak da olsa yerine getirmek istiyorum.

Kisa kisa:

- Sinir otesi harekat, ya da gote got diyelim, savas, cozum degildir. Genel manada, felsefi duzlemde, etik boylamda, manevi soylamda cozum olmayisini gectim, reel anlamda da cozum olamaz. Olamaz, cunku sorun Pkk degildir; sorun olmayan seyi de yok ederek cozume ulasamayiz. Pkk dagdaki bir avuc gozu donmus, eskiya, capulcu, bebek katili, eroin kacakcisidir veya degildir'i tartismak yerine gozlemlenebilir olana bakalim: Pkk vardir. Pkk'nin bir gercegin gostergesidir, aslinin ya da kendisinin degil. Disavurulus bicimi de size mevcut durum ve sorunun capi, boyutu, derinligi hakkinda bir fikir vermelidir. Sinir otesi harekatla sabit bir sayi ve katilimda kalacagi varsayilan Pkk'yi yok etmek hulyasi -basarili olsa dahi- sorunun mevcut disavurumunu yok etmek olacaktir. Mudahll ordu geleneginin kana boyadigi anadolu'nun yuzyillar suren ve surmekte olan ic isyan tarihinden anliyoruz ki bu gelenek basarisizdir. Bu yontemin her seferinde baska bicim ve formlarda nuksetmesi de basarisizliga mahkumiyetinin ispatidir. TCK 301 sagolsun asil ismini soylememiz halinde got altina gittigimiz 1915 olaylarina resmi tarih tez ve anlatimiyla baksak bile toplu tasfiye ve tehcir opsiyonu gibi mudahalelerin eninde sonunda donup basa corap orecegini goruyoruz. Hulasasi su: Ordu siyasi/sosyolojik/ekonomik/kulturel hic bir sorunu cozemez, sorunu cozmek icin giristigi her hamle soruna kat cikar, sorunu bastan yaratir.

- Pkk'nin sebebi mevcudiyeti emperyalist gucler degildir. Emperyalist gucler allah degildir. Var olan sorunu yok edemedikleri gibi, yoktan sorun da yaratamazlar. Tek odakli ve kaynakli olmayan emperyalist gucler de manipule etmek istedikleri alanlarda mukim mevcut iktidar asimetrilerine, sosyal carpikliklara, tarihsel birikimlere, acmazlara, ezilmislik ve itilmisliklere oynarlar. Pkk ile anilan bolgenin bu anlamda zengin bir gecmisi ve o gecmisten bugune uzanan bir somut izdusumu olmasi dis mihraklar diyebilecegimiz merkezden cevreye yayilmasiyla bize bir tanidigi hatirlatabilecek olan guclere uygun oyun alani yaratmaktadir. Burada cingozluk "bolup yonetmek istiyorlar" diktumunun ve formulunun ayirdina varmaktan degil, bolunmeyi mumkun kilan "birlik" kriterlerini sorgulayabilmekten geciyor. Sorunu var eden etnokrasi temelli, ust-kimlik dayatmaci kaynak, gelir ve hizmet dagiliminda esitsizligi mumkun ve makbul kilan ulus devlet catisina odaklanirsak, daha net bir yargida bulunmak mumkun olur. Nufusunun cogunlugunun ait olmadigi bir ust-kimlige ve onun resmi diline, kulturune, yaptirim ve planlamasina uymasinin beklendigi, hep "dis mihrak"lara yakistirdigimiz "bol ve yonet"in baska bir ayagi (hatta onculu) olan, Pers Imparatorlugundan beri suregelen, merkezle rabitali feodal/yerel mesru muhataplar atanarak yonetilen bol Bucakli bir bolgede "emperyalizme karsi bir zamanlar mucadele vermis olma" gecmisine dayanarak emperyalist ozlem ve yontemlerden curuge cikamazsiniz, proto-emperyalist ve etnokrat bir butunleyiciligin de yarattigi karsitligi ve catismayi "mazlum edebiyati"ndan ibaretlestirip "sehit kani, sehit cenazesi" propagandist doldurusuyla kendi tebaaniza tek tarafli lanse ettirisinizin tebaanizdan olmayanlarca tutmasini umamazsiniz.

Bu model tutmayinca da cikan erorleri "kotu niyet, kansizlik, serefsizlik, emperyaliz usaklik" gibi kisilestirmelere, melodramlastirmaya gomemezsiniz. Turkiye'de federal yapi tutmaz, bolunur diyenlerin de bu anlamda iki temel seye dikkat etmelerinde fayda var: Federal bir yapinin adinin ve biciminin "Turkiye" olacagini varsayarak ne kadar sinirli dusunmeye programlandiginizi ispatliyor, ilk cinkoyu doldur... ]]> ~otisagabey tengo que escribir para mis amigos http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/14552125/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/14552125/ Sat, 08 Sep 2007 21:14:21 PDT
Ne haber? Aylar oldu amerikadayim, gelismeler super. Hava sicak, el calor, caliente, etc. Havanin amina koyim, sana bir sey olmasin bebeyim. Ispanyolca ogreniyorum, cok belli oluyor mu? Belleza puta madre, konyo. Size ilginc bir seyler yazasim var ama ilginc bir seyler olmuyor. Olsa yazmaz miyim? Gayet ilginc olmayan seyler var, yazsam "aylardir amerikadasin gotum ilginc seyler yazsana" diyeceksiniz. Amerikadan bagimsiz ilginc bir sey yazayim mi? Gayet magazin forevir olsun, Hayatimda kimse yok. O ozel kisiyi bulamadim. Cok yalnizim be el diario de mi vida muy solitario ama ne solitariamente. No nunca tener una vida que solitario desde hace cinco anos, o mas.

Bak iste bu onemli bir gelisme, 6 milyar insan var aaabi, elbet kafama gore birilerini bulurum. Yok abi bulamiyorum, cok sikici abicim. O 6 milyar insan ekolunun amina koyayim abi, oyle ki (buradan sonrasini yazmamaya karar verdim)


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ertesi gun gelen edit
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eyvah, eyvah.

Su yukarida yazilanlarin ayik kafa ile yazilmadigi umuyorum bir cogunuzun malumu olmustur, olmadiysa olsun. Sorumluluk kabul etmiyorum, diyemem, serhos da olsa yazdigimin arkasindayim. O ozel kisiyi bulamadim kismini da soyle izah etmek mumkun. Bulunan ozel kisilere inanmiyorum pek. Kisiler ozel olarak bulunmazlar, ozellesip, guzellesirler. Buna inaniyorum, amaaaaa, en azindan uygun hamuru, topragi bulmak gerekiyor ki, o ozellesme, ozellestirme programi etkili olsun. Amerika'da yasayanlar mutabik olacaklardir, o is zor. Niye zor? Sundan zor: Amerikali denen adam herseyden evvel ve onemlisi muktedir musterek ruhunu ozumsemis, icsellestirmis kisi demek. Genelleme yaptigimin farkindayim ama bunun da genel bir durus olmadigini soylemek mumkun mu? Amerikali muhalif oldugu zaman dahi iktidara manyel, iktidar ile anlamli, evrenin efendisi konumuna oynayan bir muhalefete ve ruhuna yatkin oluyor. Yanisi isyankar oldugunda da yetistirilisi sebebiyle bey cocugu, zengin pici kafasina, kayirilmis, mustesna hammadeye sahip, rolunun hakkini verip sagci, faso, muktedir oldugunda da.

Ne demek istedigimi anlamak icin bunu soyle dusununuz: Bizim milliyetcileri biliyorsunuz. Ne derece sanrilarin, evhamin, grandioz deluzyonlarin arasinda yasiyor, ne zaman ortak gecmis ve kader birliginden bahsedecek olsalar bir zafer, bir hukumdarlik donemine referans vererek konusuyorlar. Ve fakat en brakisefalperver milliyetci bile sahidimdir ki, en olumlu gorusle dahi, butun gaz vermeye yonelik soylem ve sloganlarin cikarimindan turkiye'nin orta capli bir ulke oldugunu, "o eski gunlere donmek"lige oynayan uyuyan devlikten gayri bir global hukmu olmadigini soyleyebiliriz. Buna karsin bu sapsal gorusun aynisina sahip kafa ve birikimde amerikalinin iktidar denen seyi simdi ve su an yasadigini tasavvur ediniz. Yani amerikali icin "uyuyan dev, o eski gunler" yok, simdi ve bugun var, hemen ve aninda iktidara ortaklik kosmak soz konusu. Bu, abilerim ablalarim, amerikali dedigin adami (ve dolayisiyla kadini) benim gibi gariban ulke ruhunu ozumsemis ezel ebd mahkumiyete tesne ruhlular icin cekilmez ve itici kilan en temel unsur. Bu nobranligi asamiyor, bu gotu kalkikligi gecemiyorum, solculuklari da anarsizmleri de icime sinmiyor, velhasil i kelam, amerikaliya isinamiyorum.

Bir kac opsiyon var. Bunlardan bir tanesi, amerika'da yasayan ama amerika'li olmayanlarla takilmak. Denedim, olumlu sonuc veriyorsa da, gurbet kafasini yasayan bu tip kisilerin kendi acmazlari, sicmazlari oluyor. Dahasi gurbetizmden tiksindikleri icin bu kisiler genellikle kendi gruplari arasinda kumeleniyor, anadillerine ingilizce sos etmek istemiyorlar. Buradan da amerika'daki turklerle kaynasmak gibi bir cozum cikiyor, ki bu alanda da cok sansli oldugumu soyleyemeyecegim. Amerika'daki turkler (bunu okuyacak buradaki dostlarim alinmasin) ekseriyetle Turkiye'deki muktedir ruhunu, tanzimat komplekslerini, beyaz turk edimlerini, kemalist ibadet ve servis paketlerini de yanlarinda getirdiklerinden tamamen baska sebeplerden kafami dusuruyor. Amerika, abilerim, oyle cok ayak alti bir yer degil, eger ki birisi buraya gelebiliyorsa, gelebildigi icin gelebiliyor. O gelebilenler de benim zaten turkiye'de kose bucak kactigim kisilere cephe ve profilden cok benziyorlar, avrupaya gittiklerinde italyan saniliyorlar, turk olduklarini kimseye inandiramiyorlar, gece yarisi ekspresinden bahsedildiginde hafizalarindan velidedeoglu roportajli yutub linki verebilecek derece fikrisabit olabiliyorlar.

E ben ne yapam? Ben ne edem? Yalnizim, o ozel kisiyi bulamad... ]]> ~otisagabey Ozur dile, Erkin Goren, ozur dile!!! http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/13239406/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/13239406/ Wed, 06 Jun 2007 13:04:40 PDT 92 BIN kusur hit almisim. Hala da aliyorum. Bu az sey degil. Kesinlikle kendimi ovmek icin soylemiyorum, ama kimse kendini benimle bir tutmasin!!!...

Erkin Goren, uzun zamandir eserlerini dikkatle izledigim birisi. Ucari hareketleri olan birisi. Renkleri ve formu kullanisi ile dikkatimi cekiyor. Amaaaa... Bir hatasi var.

* * *

Anlar vardir...Oyle bir an gelir ki bazi seyleri soylemek gerekir... Baktim kimse soylemiyor ben soyleyeyim dedim.. Iste yaziyorum. Erkin Goren cuce ci-ze-mi-yor!... Tamam renkleri, deseni iyi olabilir. Hic kimse bir sey diyemez. Rengine desenine soz soyleyenin karsisina ilk BEN cikarim. Ama kabul edelim. Erkin Goren cuce cizemiyor. Cuceyi tanimiyor. Cucede cuvalliyor. Cuceyi cuceye cucece anlatmiyor.

* * *

Sanatcilar bencil olur...Ortalamayla bir olamaz. Hayat bana bunu ogretti. Sanatcilar bilir, uretim sureci sikintilidir, acitir... Ama insani cizen cuceyi de cizecek diye bir sey yok. Erkin Goren'in artik bunu gormesi lazim.

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Sakin kendisi ile bir sorunum oldugu sanilmasin. Hala cok iyi arkadasimdir. Sik sik gorusur, konusuruz. O bana hep abi der. Ben de ona kardesim gibi bakarim. Bir istegin var mi der, yok derim. Iliskimiz de hic oyle siradan degil... Konusuruz. Dertlesiriz. Kimi zaman kirginliklarimiz da olmustur..Ama Erkin beni dinlemeli. Bu cucelerden vazgecmeli...

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Gel erkin bu cucelerden vazgec. Cucelerden de ozur dile...Sen belki cuce olmak ne demek bilemezsin, sanatcilar kaprisli ve okuz olur...Ama sana yakisan ozur dilemektir.

OZUR DILE ERKIN GOREN. CUCE CIZEMIYORSUN.

]]> ~otisagabey Depression is sometimes the absence of delusion. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/13099640/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/13099640/ Sat, 26 May 2007 10:25:36 PDT
To further the insult, it looks like there are a lot of depressed people around, some say it is the mental disorder of our times as if it's the new fashion. The prozac nation living under the zoloft republic seems to find its legislative body in the modern psychiatry that is expert in finding ding an sich's wherever they appear and the executive chain of command is run by the army of pharmacology in this war against depression.

Written below is one such commentary in the nature of depression and the a possible way to fight it, please be duly noted, it induces cringe reflexes.

(original page here: [link]

Leave the prison of depression

Depression is a prison whose foundation stone is the unquestioned belief that you are intrinsically unacceptable to yourself and others, and that you have to spend your life trying to be good in the way that you define "good". Setting yourself impossibly high standards, you become an expert in feeling guilty. When a personal disaster befalls you, your ideas about yourself and your life no longer fit reality.

This feels like your very self is falling apart. You try to hold yourself together by blaming yourself. Now you see yourself as unforgivably wicked. You cut yourself off from other people because they will reject you, from your past where lies the evidence of your wickedness, from your hopeless future, and from society and nature. Thus, unintentionally, you create your prison. The more you hate yourself, the worse your prison becomes.

The key to the prison is to decide to act as if you value and accept yourself. You do something nice, something as simple as going for a daily walk. You talk things over with a friend, or perhaps a therapist. You decide whether to take anti-depressants to mitigate your pain (anti-depressants are painkillers, not cures for depression), or whether you'll use the pain to motivate you to change your life. Gradually and imperceptibly, you come to value, accept and love yourself.

Thus, you discover the recipe for happiness. You learn to see yourself as being humanly fallible like everyone else. Now you work out what proportion of a disaster is your responsibility, what proportion other people's, and what happened by chance. You no longer claim to be responsible for everything, and, instead of sinking into self-absorbed guilt, you endeavour to right what can be righted.

You no longer see the world as governed by a grand design of immutable laws of reward and punishment, but see it as operating as an interplay of chance and human intention a world where you can enjoy hope and freedom. You can accept that life will always bring crises because you know you'll meet them with courage and optimism.

No longer enmeshed in your concerns about yourself, you discover how immensely interesting and rewarding the world and other people are. Involved in all this, it might cross your mind one day that you are, in fact, happy.

Dorothy Rowe.


Now, let's think about it for a while shall we? Here, we have a person who is depressed and here are the reasons why s/he might be depressed. Dorothy Rowe argues that the depressed person is depressed *only* because s/he blames the fabled self for his/her problems. But what is the self? And do the individuals really blame themselves for everything that happens to them "for no reason"?

Here, what we really we see is the psychology depraved of the inherent social relationships that build and form the self without the consent of the self, a fool's errand trying to explain the individual through the individual, just like the depressed individual is often asked not to do. To explain the fallacy inherent to this thinking please consider the following situation.

Imagine a slave society, and imagine a depressed slave in that society. The slave is depressed and few would question why. Yet, since the slavery is accepted as the norm among the slaves, always through the help of the masters suppression of knowledge and free inquiry, the slave is left with nothing but the self, who might have done something wrong to deserve this. And here Dorothy Rowe says, "hey don't build that prison around you! You see, it's not *your * fault, love yourself for who you are, drop these convictions about thi... ]]> ~otisagabey Muhtira gecemizde ciftleri piste davet ediyorum http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12758432/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12758432/ Fri, 27 Apr 2007 18:55:07 PDT
Lesser evilism'in bel verdigi yerdeyiz. Aslinda hep oradaydik. Hani bir yesil sermaye var, bir beyaz turk sermaye var. Birisi garbi, birisi sarki. Hangisine tapisin, onu soruyorlar ya? Bana sor misal, ben ilkine tapiyim, ikincisinin ne bok oldugu belli degil. Ilki bildigimiz guc, taniyoruz, celiklesmis kararli ifadesine, dosta guven dusmana korku salan nazarlarina tutkunuz. Digeri, desen killi, yunlu, yesil, arabik. Samidir, sari sacli mavi gozlu turkik kulturumuze gelmez, beriki turkiyemizde tesvikiye camiinde dahi Allah'in yeri yok. Bir kere "Kadinlarimiz"i kapiyorlar. Ne demek?! Biz kadinimizi acik seviyoruz, iyelik ekli erkek egemen envanterinde durur, "kadinimiz"a el surme. Cunku tek gundemimiz bu. Kadinlar cumhuriyet balosunda caga yakisir tango giyinmisler mi? Isin baremi bu, modernite moda demek. Vatkaysa vatla, bleyzirsa bleyzir. Caga uyacaksin. Bunun yani sira, digeri yok mu digeri. Hic gariban degil. basortusu ozgurlugu isteyenleri var, haklilar, istemeyenleri var, haklilar ama onlarin sesini duyamazsin. Garibandir, ezgindir, evinde oturur, camasir camar, bulasik bular, orgazm orar (met-ust). Bunu da biliyoruz, modernite mucadelesi de tirt, digerinin garibanligi da tras. Ama basin ortusu ne, olcusu ne buna takilacak kadar zort olmamaliyiz. Bir de meyhaneler kapatilmasin? Ne hakla? Meyhaneye gidecegiz, icip unutacagiz. Unutup icecegiz, meyhaneler kapatilmasin. Eger ben, ickimi icmezsem, nasil unutacagim sefaletimi, hodbinligimi, varimsizligimi. Bana secdeyi ve kible manzarali animated gifli su damlasi efektli javayi dayamasinlar, ne olur. Icip embesillesmeyi, icmeden embesillesmeye tercih ediyorum, komprador ahlakim sinisizme, sarkazma kayar, oyum embesillige. Ama, tabi, taraf olman lazim. Ya o, ya o. Allaha'a inanmiyorum, ama bir guc var. Allah varsa bu guce nasil izin verir?

Bunun yani sira, hello I am biking new york biliyor musun? The weather is beautiful, l train is the shortest ride to manhattan, you know? Olay beni de bir pas geciyor ki aklin almaz, capiche? Ve fakat icimde bir kus var biliyor musun ahali? Vicdanimdir, yalan da olsa soyle soyle, ozledim de, bekledim de, diyor. Konum, habitus ve sinifima uyumlu taraflarima ara sira ses eder, bagri yaniktir, kafes kusudur, hic cikmamistir. Kanatlari atrofiye ugramistir kusumun, ammaaa o dili var ya o dili. Bi konustu muuuuu....pabuc gibidir. Uc desen, kafesin kapisini aralasan ucamaz, urkek, kirilgan bencileyin. Ucup da bir tepeden bakamaz safak cigliklari ile sabaha eren musterek karanlik geceye. Sermaye ve rant kavgasinin iki yesil ayagini, takunyalisi, postallisi diye ayirmadan sey edemez (ne edemez?)

Abilerim, yorgunum, mutsuzum, ya icindeyim cemberin, ya da disinda yer alacagim, meyhane masalariyla aram yok, alkol kullanmiyorum. Siirlerle sarkilarla kendimi avutamiyorum. Bu topraklar kardeslerim, bu topraklar zaten demokrasiye gelmez. Bu topraklar kardeslerim zaten oteden beridir, boyledir, duzeni bozulmaz basinci dusmez. Bu topraklar bebeyim benim, hayalet sevgilim. Bu topraklari toprak diyerek gecmeden taniyanlar, ve sehadet serbetini tadip hakka kavusanlarin muntazam adimlari ve sesleri arasinda kalmistir, killi bir yapisi vardir, erozyon baslica problemdir.

Ve Umutsuzluk suctur. Cezasi odlekce bir yasam, kefaleti olumdur. Kefaleti odeyip cikmak, bu bir cozum olabilir mi? Cunku hatirlayiniz, allah'a inanmiyorum ama bir guc var. O guc'un bonesiz havuzuna girilmeyen, sortla tesislere sokulmayan bir sosyal tesisi, cennetin en iyi yerini bunlar kapmis dedirten bir emlak meraki var mi?

Yasam, saklanmak ve beklemek icin girdigimiz bir delikse, olum ve mezar nedir? Sureniz bir omur, istediginiz sorudan baslayabilir, olmayan sorulari yazip yanitlayabilirsiniz.

Bunlar ve diggerleri kafama degil, kalbime takilir, yuk olur. Kalbim bir kustur, kanatlari yoktur. Gogusum bir odadir, penceresi yoktur. Gozlerim japonlarin yillardir namini duydugumuz gozlukleri gibidir, ama hep beni, hep benim icimi gosterir, ciplakligimi hissederim. Dal dassak dostlarim, dal dassak ve anadan uryan, sizinle cift cift eslesip dans ederim.

Sizin de kusunuz otuyor mu?

]]> ~otisagabey Just your Average Cho http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12733279/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12733279/ Wed, 25 Apr 2007 17:03:23 PDT C'est dur de mourir au printemps tu sais. "

Reporting from the land that is shaken by the unmentionable but fit for media broadcast atrocities of yet another lone gunman. I am sure you are properly introduced to Citizen Cho many times over by your favourite tail-end of The Media (c), but let me introduce him again, you will survive this journal.

Meet Cho Seung, he is your average serial killer next dorm. A self professed loonie with trademark loner attitude and generic camera timer posed OG fuck-you face, and more, with a throw of ethnic makeover to sex up the serial killer cult-following market appeal towards the minorities and other bankable ethnic market sensibilities (insert pie-chart here). Think of him as Sanjaya of Columbine. But do not, think of him as a terrorist. He is not. He isn't Arab/Muslim enough. But if he was either or both of those two, then we would have yet another terrorist in our hands.

Oh, how then would we stress-out, emphasize, underline, hi lite, overlite and bring forth his Muslim sensibilities, his Islamofascist nature in the the proper context. You know, the one that contrasts East versus West within the well-argued schematics of "The Clash of Civilizations (R)" discourse to prove the proper over the improper, the end result of the modernist quest for unified values. Then it would be flag-waving time. Then it would be Mariah Carey singing "Hero" on heavy rotation. Then, we could stand united, and these colors wouldn't run. Alas, alas, we only have yet another lone gunman, going postal like all the naturalized and salt-of-the-earth Americans before him, expressing his hatred towards the ugliness, monstrosity that is forced upon him by/and everyone you know.

Meet Cho, but didn't you guys meet before? Yeah, I am sure you too are bad with names, like I am sure you too never forget faces. But you must remember this. So please, take a good look at his face: don't you remember him? Or his expression? No, not a celebrity comparison joke after this one, I swear. You must have seen it somewhere before. Here's a hint to where you have seen it before: check your wallet/purse. Just take a long hard look at any government issued ID with a mugshot taken just for that occasion and you'll understand what I am getting at.

Mugshots, regardless of the purpose and placement, are funny. If you want to draw some fast-laughs among friends you might slip and fall in front of everyone or share your ID photo. Mugshots are funny for the same reason banana peel induced public falls are funny. Public humiliation and hurt goes a long distance, but before it does, it stops for a few laughs. A mugshot, even when faked with a calculated rush of bravado, is essentially a caricature of yourself, a record for all to know that you too can (and will) look pretty lame, insecure and lost when faced with something greater than you are; a mere reminder that trying your best to look normal would come off looking pretty serial killer looking. Trying hard to look and be normal and failing openly must be the key to serial-killerdom, and that's the metaphorical banana peel for Cho, who perhaps has stepped on it a bit more than the average Cho can take. So naturally, like all of us, he opted for a graceful exit.

Even though liberal capitalist consensus expounds on the virtues of the individual and the pursuit of happiness, the consenting Media and its coverage rarely presents the events in Virginia Tech act as yet another way of suicide as a practice towards Cho's pursuit of happiness. But when you consider the events of that eventful day you might be shocked to find out that this was above all else was a suicide, plain and simple. Don't let the body count distract you from the initial purpose of the show; taking the lives of others was simply the way Cho decided to commit to his suicide. Note the conscious manipulation of the phrase, Committing to a suicide is a bit different than committing a suicide.

Committing a suicide is mostly understood as a deliberate attempt to end one's own life. However, the phrase itself rarely have a time reference and almost never exceeds anything that is beyond instantaneous. You might fast until you die, but those are not considered as suicide since they're made to initiate a policy change within the society it addresses and naturally are expected to be reversible. Committing to a suicide, however, takes some living irreversibly spent on that which you chose to live humbly for and die as a consequence. The commitment may cover a broad time frame and would be practiced intentionally to make itself irreversible since it is not seen as a solution to a problem, but more, as a way of exiting the scene where everyone are forced to do so regardless of their beliefs or values. So committing to a suicide is taking the inevitability of death into account and try to make something out of it. That i... ]]> ~otisagabey In the end I got nothing to say. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12599631/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12599631/ Sun, 15 Apr 2007 00:16:07 PDT
On my way back home I thought about that strange feeling of being on the way back home. (some sentence erased here.) hOW FAST. (intentionally left as is) After years of not being so sure about where I lived I find it easy to obtain homes and the feeling it (some pause here thinking about what I've just wrote) I think I wanted to talk about how easy I get used to places now and how easy I seem to be able to abandon them. (point remembered, felt happy to see that we have one) And this has something to with the (abandon paragraph)

I think I love my new house (too happy, abandon)

My new house sucks. (Insincere, you're really happy about it. It's just that you're surprised to find yourself being so easily satisfied with temp housing. So you are afraid whether this is the early warning signs of tendency towards bum living. (parenthesis too long, abandon.)

Socrates once said (Sophomoric essay intro.)

Webster dictionary defines a bum as (High school essay intro.)

I love living in Manhattan. I am not living in Manhattan but I feel like I am living in it. (What the hell does that supposed to mean?)

I finally moved to my apartment in Williamsburg. It's really close to the city. (laughed my ass off here, who cares?)

Sonunda Williamsburg'deki evime yerlestim. (Olmuyor, bir onceki journal ingilizce yazilmis.)

Williamsburg'deki evin amina koyayim. (Burada cok sikildigimi anliyorum. Oysa ki yolda eve gider metroda aklimdan gecip de laptop i acip yazmaya usendigim seyleri yazarim, bir guzel journal patlatirim diye dusunuyordum. ("Bir guzel journal patlatirim" diye dusundugumu fark ettim, mahcubum. Parantez-ici devam etmeye karar verdim. Parantez ici giderken daha rahatim. Yok yazinin mekanigiymis, yok kukanigiymis kafama takmiyorum. Bak misal Sokrat'in Asil benzerligini, inancli bir yasamin manali bir olume, inancsiz bir yasamin ise yasamin manalanmasina vafkedildigini falan yazacaktim. Olmadi. Niye olmadi? Simdi Sokrat falan, agir. Oyle "sokrat..." diye giremezsin. Once bir mevcut durumu anlatacaksin. Evime tasindim, hemen evim gibi benimsedim. Kopegim oldu sevindim. Araya pop kultur referansi komiklik. Sonra bir vites atip, iste acaba evlere bu kadar cabuk isinmak cabucak da sogumanin getirisi mi, belirtisi mi? diyecek, emek ve zaman verilen seylerin aksine gel gec seylere cabuk isinilip baglanilamadigini, gel geclestirmenin de bu anlamda istirak icin yeterli ivmeyi verip icraat icin yetersiz kaldigini soyleyecektim. Sonra iste lafi Sokrat'a baglayasim vardi. Bu Sokrat biliyorsunuz ibisin teki. Yani ibis derken, iyi manada. Hani "eger bu akillilarin dunyasiysa ben deliyim, sizler efendiyseniz ben ibisim"deki iyi manali ibis. Sokrat'in da temelinde sofist oldugunu, icinde dæmon un tipki sofistlerin kesin goreliligi/oznelligi gibi temelinde yapici degil yikici bir tarafi oldugu, ve icindeki dæmondan saklayabildigi temelsiz inanclarini felsefesinin basarisi degil, sefaleti oldugunu falan diyecektim. Sokrat'i da bu anlamda "yasadik olumden bir seyler umarak" adami oldugunu, kendi dæmon'unu kandirip, aldatarak yasadigi "kutsal" inanclarinin da ancak olumu ile anlanabilecek kadar akli icerikten yoksun oldugunu diyecektim. Homeros'un cocugu sokrat'in asil'e alternatif olarak yasadigi ve ornek olmayi umdugu filozof kahramaninin dahi nihilizme denk bir sorgulanamaz kesinlikle hareket ettigi icin ayirt edilemez oldugunu diyecektim. Sonra ilk basta actigim bir konuyu ya da alakasiz gibi gorunen bir yan konuyu baglayacaktim, "journal attirma" fiili sonlanacakti. Olmadi, bir parantezde bel verdi bos vakitlerime denk gelen ve yazmaktan keyif alacagim eseyim. (Ama olsun, o nobran bickin hava, o okuyucuya kafam girsin diyen fakyu tavrim bu parantezlerle yasayacaktir. (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler.(yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onden yazmasin da sen yaz. acigimin farkindayim de ki "oo farkindaysa tamam o zaman" desinler (yani diyorsun ki birisi onde... ]]> ~otisagabey Sarcasm catches on. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12401029/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12401029/ Sat, 31 Mar 2007 11:03:55 PDT
I am looking for a place to stay in (and around) New York.

The Main Story:

I am looking for apartments in Williamsburg.

Yes, -that- Williamsburg.

Williamsburg, the urban ghetto. Williamsburg, the ultimate east coast hipster milieu. Williamsburg, home of the hybrid soy-lattes meet the eclectic organic pecan pies. Williamsburg, where the vegan-ish looking cafes play Modest Mouse right after 50cent. Williamsburg, where the hipness goes such distance that it turns itself into a costume, a social uniform a la Chinese culture revolution, making the occasional lonely Hasidim super-jew passing through look like he is the real deal, the free-wheeling spirit with a style of his own. Williamsburg, where you are offered shitty makeshift dens decorated with dangerously low water pipes running through plastic curtain walls pitched as "cozy" and "fit for the creative types". Williamsburg, you get to live in rat infested hell holes because it's the hippest. Williamsburg, even when all you can see is glazed with the aura of hipsters, landlords just don't want their places turned into PARTY DENS (the buzz word of this side of the town, much like the NO DRAMA caveat of LA).

So why, one might be compelled to ask to the author of this long list of sarcasm, would one consider living there?

One reason: L train.

It's by far the fastest running subway train into downtown Manhattan (where I work) and Williamsburg happens to be located around the first stop into Brooklyn. Please observe the deliberate wording here: The first stop is not in Williamsburg, Williamsburg is located around the first stop. Williamsburg, after all, is yet another real estate project formed and conceived around the convenience of that very fact. Some say Williamsburg is the new Soho. Or the new lower east side, Tribeca, Cihangir, Balat; just name another low-profile hood turned hip. Naturally, downtown is the root cause, mother of all evil, with its obscenely over-priced real estate prices trickling down (or bleeding in) to the surrounding neighborhoods. But that's material fit for perhaps another journal entry.

Some of you might recall that i was looking for an apartment in LA. For your consideration: That's off. No go. Maybe later. For the time being it's apartment hunting in New York, and it has a different shade and texture than apartment hunting in LA. In LA it's mostly about credit check, in NY it's mostly about credibility check. In LA landlords check on you, in NY you check on landlords. Williamsburg is no different, except perhaps that you check the credibility of the landlord while s/he is trying to look as hip as humanly possible. I think we can all agree that doesn't happen that often.

Although Williamsburg is famed for it's "artsy" environment, I think you will be hard pressed to find a real artist landlord, or for that matter, a roommate, too. Might be the fact that most of them who once owned property here already sold out to the pressures of the real estate brokers who blockbusted many central locations through well-planned gentrification. But that takes some demand from the non-artists who can and would pay to live in shitty conditions for an almost obscene price, right? Most of the landlords and future roomies I've met so far have some "business" in paid environment. Bank clerks, real estate brokers, social workers, instructors, secretaries, business school students. So the question is:

Why do non-artists or dilettantes posing as artists want to live in artsy environments?

That question, in itself, seems to be the answer. The reflected glory of the artsy is what a lot of yuppies are yearning for and getting for a price plus the occasional toll of the indoor water pipes running between their plasma TVs and Bang-Olufsen hi-fi sets. So the equation goes: if you're living in Williamsburg you must be artsy.

The average yuppie's need to stay close to the outsider, the artist is phenomenal. I am not insinuating that all or the majority of yuppie's are into artsy reflection, but no one can argue that it is the rising trend. But why? Even for the glory and benefit of it, even with the easy classy shag hipsters are known to provide, why the urgent need? Why the pressure?

Why, none other than the spawning culture of cool goind hand in hand with the dominant sarcastic humor, of course. After all, we the providers of infinite sarcasm rendered the 80s yuppie and many others as uncool, defining the new cool by the virtue of un-coolness. It's just not bankable to invest in traditional signs of wealth anymore. Even the brand fetish has mutated such that there's no room in coolness for the big wigs of yesterday. For those who are in-the-know, know much better to avoid the sarcasm content of the big wigs. So every intelligent yuppie who wants to get his/h... ]]> ~otisagabey Much Journal about nothing http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12212888/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12212888/ Fri, 16 Mar 2007 22:29:09 PDT
But still, you hold yourself together, hold your shoulders wide, chin up, straighten your posture like the chiropractors and drill sergeants says you should, and address the self, the journal and others in an insignificantly significant way. This is a good way to make everyone think that there's a good reason to write that journal. Assumed role of the journal-ist in the Sartrean bad faith is that of indifferent joy: if such a thing is humanly possible other than the rare times you saw Riza Calimbay enjoy the goal he just scored. So I assume that indifferent joy of yet another passed so as to fill in the gap in which nothing really happened.

But sometimes shit happens in your mind. When it does, it gives you the kind of beatific expression which all good actresses share in common, and shitty actresses imitate it only to make themselves look like retards (now why does Pelin Batu comes to mind?). So if nothing of significance has happened as to provide us with good reason to write something, we revert to the second rate shit that looks more significant than bare walls that happened for quite some time that day. Walls do happen, Pink Floyd and Ytong would agree on that.

Maybe that's the reason why journals are written on those special days when nothing really happens, but it should. Could it be that we invent stuff to make it look like it did? If women fake orgasms and men fake whole relationships, couldn't journals fake days and lives? And if they do, who are they for and why are they written? Such are the questions in my head today. Insignificant, but better than the significant which has not much to be considered as such.

Among the second rate shit that have happened in my head, one was particular since it wasn't really that particular to begin with. I got angry at something. That may sound like the beginning of that particular thing that happened. But not really. The particular thing is that I got angry at something, and the that I was angry at was less interesting than the fact that I was angry after a long while.

I am not sure what I mean does not register with the most of you. After all, most of those who care to read what I have to write are from that far away land where the anger is considered the mark of the select few, ergo held as a common practice which we lead our every day life. As it is the accepted mask of the wit, intellect, conscience and everything that would bewilder the beholder of those virtues given the state we're in, life we're made to suffer, the intolerable existence we have to carry on our backs. So the "wise" and the moron alike soon learns how to look wise just by putting the dense, angst ridden face in front of the brain that is not really too happy with the uncalled for stress hormones said expression produces but feels that the emotion itself is better than trying to do something about it. That is how the anger which the tortured intellectual expression itself regenerates becomes a second nature, like shifting manual gears, like swimming (which is a great album by the way), like bicycle riding and every other cliche that are specifically assigned to connote the second nature concept.

Yet, I was surprised by the fact that I got angry, more than the thing I was angry for. Some of you might think that I am bragging about something that I have acquired which defies the nature of the "common". By every right, you are right to assume and blame so, I -am- bragging. This is my way of taking a picture in front of the Eiffel tower, my Yonja snowboard shot, my Myspace moment of reaching thousand friends. But the great equalizer, "WE" aides me, and I have to remind us out of this blame since we all brag about some stuff. Maybe the bragging in itself is the expression of a joy as natural as cheering your team on when they scored (and sometimes to make Riza realize that he scored a goal), jumping off your chair to learn that you have a boy/girl, dancing like Rober Hatemo when you hear the fake news of paid military service. No one questions your joy when it's something else you are celebrating, but when you celebrate something you master for your own good, it is seldom seen as something appropriate to be happy and outwardly expressive about. That is the weight of the common, the slave morality, the unfulfilled we have to carry on our back, which denies us the right to be happy about something we master, or worse, enjoy it secretly to the point of inventing a grand personality bedridden with false modesty, something we are also secretly happy about.

Now, wait, hold on. Do... ]]> ~otisagabey How to Be a Good Girlfriend http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12174881/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12174881/ Tue, 13 Mar 2007 21:55:29 PDT (This is a truthenized version of a wikihelp article I come across the Internet. I think it will help. Since I am not sure if they will keep it with my edit, I decided to make a copy here.)

So you've landed the guy of your dreams. (or "So you've been dreaming again.") Finding a great boyfriend is hard, at least that's what you think. That's good, hold onto that. Now that you've found him, make sure that you are a great (as in good, not fat) girlfriend so that you can make him happy and he can enjoy the relationship with you and above all with himself.

Steps

1. Be honest.

While being honest to your mate is very important, to the point of being paramount, it is equally important that you be honest to yourself. Unfortunately, since you don't consciously deceive yourself into dishonesty, this advice really doesn't mean anything. And yes, in a mature relationship, honesty is the best policy. As long as your significant other too is honest to himself everything should be good. But we all know that is pretty hard to expect from anyone else. Honestly, you should know by now that it's impossible to be honest about honesty.

2. Have a positive attitude.

If everything you say around him is a criticism or an attack, he will not look forward to seeing you. And what would you ever do if he doesn't want to see you? Remember: people don't want you to be honest with their shortcomings, so please scrap the first advice altogether. Tactfulness is a better strategy in mature relationships.

3. However, you don't always have to agree with him just because he is your boyfriend.

Don't be predictable while you're Tammy Wynette-ing around. Invent silly, irrelevant non-issues to differ without offending him. Never forget that sincerity and honesty loses its charm quick. Have a sense of humor. If you have none, read some daily jokes. That's what a lot of DJs do when they want to be funny. Have inside jokes together (no small penis jokes). These jokes will later surface when you hate each other, and will make any situation premeditated. Be spontaneous, but be cautious in your spontaneity. Be happy, at least while you can be. Sad people get dumped faster.

4. Communicate regularly.

Do not talk his ear off unless it's about how big his dick is, he doesn't need your other opinions. If he needed opinions he would ask his pals or refer to something he truly respects like Dirty Harry or Scarface. You're not Tony Montana, don't sweat it.

However, make sure that if you have any problems that will affect your mood, he is made aware of the reasons for your problems and mood, so that you do not appear to merely be a fickle and cranky creature. Not because your problems matter, but because you don't want him to think anything bad about you. But if you have big problems, keep it to yourself, because then it might look like you're talking his ear off.

5. Make your desires, needs, and opinions known, even when they may conflict with his.

He has the right to know the things he has to ignore. If they do conflict with his, make sure that you should refrain from talking too much about them, because you don't want to piss them off for any reason. Remember: you are not important, he is important.

6. Acting like you exist solely to please him will get you no respect and may even make him bored with your company.

And you don't want to be boring: you want to be entertaining. Or else you will be dumped. Bo hoo. Too late, you lost the man of your dreams.

7. Showing that you are your own person

with your own needs, desires, and approach to life might keep him interested in getting to know and understand you as a person and ignore accordingly.

8. Be consistent.

What exasperates men most in a relationship is having to go back and forth between moods, and having to tolerate irrationality. Such as being honest first, then being tactful next. Such as having the desire to talk issues first, then shutting the hell up next. If you want to be consistent, make sure it's compatible with his/her desires. If you're consistently annoying, they won't have none of that. But we can't say the same about you, can we? Seriously reading relationship suggestions and all is always a dead giveaway, beware.

9. Be patient.

Don't automatically think he didn't hear you when you said something. Maybe he was preoccupied with not listening to you. Don't jump to conclusions, and don't be bitchy about being ignored all the time. Remember, they might be trying to be consistent with their egocentricism. It's called "keeping it real". Really egocentric.

10. Accept the differences you have... ]]> ~otisagabey You tube, We rube http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12094173/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/12094173/ Wed, 07 Mar 2007 14:22:55 PST
First the link-> [link]

Now the commentary:

You know, if it walks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck, it might not be a duck, it might be Steven Tyler. Same goes for Turkey, if it looks like parliamentary democracy, and it sounds like parliamentary democracy, it might be something else: it might be puppet regime virtually run by the military and accomplices.

Every 10 years or so, the military has to remind us and everyone we know through the only language military is known to speak loud and clear: they're here to stay and rule. Anyone arguing with a tank would know that it's hard to argue with military, when they're known to break the laws they are supposed to protect only to re-draft the constitution to make themselves invulnerable and untouchable by law while still keeping the lion's share of the national budget, as always, to have it their way.

I, being the part of a generation who is born to post coup aesthetics and propaganda, have been raised and educated towards the system of "balance" and usual "enemies" that keeps the military in power. The same propaganda that brainwashed the masses into believing far stretching mythical tasks and the demi-gods who accomplished them invented enemies to make us forget that we were under the chains of totalitarianism before considering the -potential- threat of Islamic fundamentalism, which ironically feeds itself by being the only viable option against this iron rule.

The social ladder looks like this: the lower classes are too disorganized and ignorant to know what is what, the middle class is too brainwashed into fearing "the other" to know who's who, and the upper class is too upper class to care about anything. The media run by the capital and its friend adapts to every new invention and trick, turning into the new propaganda device

Enter the Internet.

Suddenly the classes (with a notable asymmetry) has the access to the rest of the world, unadulterated and raw. Turkish youth and general population, being the sexually deprived carbohydrate powered libido machines, at first had found it hard to take some time off from online flirting and porn access to peek through the veil of nationalist and military propaganda. If they did, they would see the exact same farce being played over and over throughout the rest of the "developing world", under different names but in similar costumes.

However, we the ignorant, marched on, full of nothing but our dictated, acquired love and duty towards the mythical founding fathers of this country, the glory of the Herculean tasks our ancestors have achieved and so on. Thus, we met the others looking and sounding just like us, who much like us were fed through the different labeled pipes pumping the same shit into our mouths.

There and then our intellect (or lack thereof) gave in. There and then, we attacked the others who have no right to be the others acting like "us". And there and then, we fought the "good war" like soldiers, like brave men, like the martyrs we were raised to be, who were amount to something unlike us, the outcasts of the history that refuses to mention our names.

While we were blindly fighting for a politician, a soldier, a man made and served into a comely secular messiah for whom we were forced to weep and cry for every year, whom we were taught to accept as our lord and savior, whom we had absolutely no alternate reference to know other than his OWN account, we had none other than the fear of other, who was secretly busy being "us" in their own usual way. Maybe it was "us" that we see in them made us want to vomit our anger, maybe it was the the other who could be someone else despite the evidence.

(this just in) PLEASE WATCH THIS (if you can): [link]

Now, the youtube, the ultimate end product of the great transformer is closed down by the state order. Not because of the alleged homosexuality slur, no, but because the state realized that it can no longer control the outlet, the way the ignorant and unread people they have thus far cultivated learned the ropes: the moving image, the television.

Youtube was important, as it is the beginning of the end for the state controlled televised media that -really- mattered. Note how much of a fuss the leading media giant in Turkey, Dogan Media Group, has made out of the Youtube Kemal videos. Consider who will be making the most profit out of this ban when its cheap imitation and Turkish corollary "pikniktube" is owned by the same group along with the tv stations the youtube is rendering useless everyday. And please observe the Dogan Media's strong Kemalist and "official" ties with the military. Follow the money and suddenly the faces y... ]]> ~otisagabey Sosyomat Moderasyon Elestirileri http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11812319/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11812319/ Wed, 14 Feb 2007 09:46:55 PST
Olayi arastirmaya, incelemeye, iddialarin dogrulugunu, mubalaga varsa boyutunu kurcalamaya usendigimi soylemeden boyle bir yaziya baslayamam. Usendim, ve fakat luzum da gormuyorum. Eskiden bu konularda daha cevvaldim, daha bir meltem hakarardim. Simdi hak aramanin dahi hak aradiginiz kisi ve eshasin bayagiligi ve tintinligi ile olculup, ifade edildigi "baskasinin websitesi" ortamlarinda feryad etmeyi, tanzimat ve devrim beklemeyi beyhude buluyorum.

Illa ozetlemek gerekirse suna dogru ozetleyeyim, "Baskasinin sitesi"nde karsilastigimiz "moderasyon keyifleri" ve esref saatleri mevzuunda dikkat edilmesi gereken en temel ayrac, en nihai nokta su kelimede gizlidir: Baskasi.

"Baskasi", "oteki", "benim/bizim disimizda olan"'in ben/biz gibi olmasini, bize dair ve bizim ayirdina vardigimiz ve evrensel belledigimiz deger ve yargilari paylasmasini beklemek, ummak ve (duruma gore) talep etmek bu temel ayrimi zitmak , baskasindan kendimiz gibi olmak imkansizligini talep etmek manasina geliyor. Lafi azicik Sartre'a bagliyorum: "Baskalari cehennemdir."

Orneklersek: Sosyomat adminleri ve moderatorleri "siz"in gibi dusunmek zorunda olmamak soyle dursun, sizin umdugunuz gibi olmak sansina,sanssizligina, imkanina dahi sahip degildir. Soylem analizine, "farkli dusunceler sahibi olma hakki" ictihadina girmiyorum, farkli konum ve vektorlerde olmanin olusturacagi en temel ve dogal ucurumdan bahsediyorum. Sosyomat admini en temelinde "baskasi" olarak sizin gibi dusunme ve size yakinsama hakkini/firsatini/lanetini kaybetmistir.

Ama lafin umugune boylelikle cokup kalacak degilim. En temel nokta bu dahi olsa, 'biz'im 'baskalari' ile oldurulmaz iliskimizin, en azindan bu ornekte, bu farkliliktan ibaret olmadigini soylemek lazim. Evet, "baskasi" ama sosyomat ya da eksi sozluk turevi moderasyon ve admin iliskilerini irdelerken "baskasi" ile iliskimizin "mecburi otekilesmek"ten ibaret oldugunu soyleyebilir miyiz?

Hayir, zira hem sozluk, hem de sosyomatta muhatabimiz olan "baskasi" ve "baskalari" ile iliskimiz onlarin uzerinde iktidar ve mulkiyet iliskisi kurduklari yapi ile gerceklesiyor. Yani herhangi bir kerameti kendinden, olgusal bir "oteki" "beriki" iliskisinden degil, muktedirler ile aramizda olusan niteliksel iliski sebebiyle mumkun olan yeni bir tur iliskiden soz ediyoruz.

Bu iliski ekseninde sosyomat orneginde moderasyon ve admin keyfinden bahsedeceksek, ezber bozmanin makul ve gorunur bir geregi yok gibi, "muktedir ve biz" cercevesinde durum eksisozluktekinin -kopyasidir demeye dilim varmiyorsa da- aynisidir.

Uzayda birbirinden farkli ve birbirine gore "oteki" vektorler ve varliklar olarak hacim kaplayan "herkes"in birbirine yakinlastigi bu musterekte mulkiyet ve iktidar iliskisi acisindan bir asimetri vardir. Mulkiyet ve iktidar hakkini savunacak, eksi sozlukte bin yildir suren (ve saniyorum temelinde kendi imzami gorebilecegim) "baskasinin evinde misafir olarak kaliyoruz miymiy biybiy" soylemine payanda ve kiris cakacak, "biz sizler olmasanizda iki kisi egleniyorduk/egleniriz" blofune oynayacak degilim.

Altini cize cize, ustune basa basa vurgulayip, mustulayip, soylemek istedigim de oncelikle bu asimetrinin varligi, sonrasinda bu asimetrinin yarattigi sosyal erordur.

Oncelikliye gelelim: iktidar ve mulkiyet acisindan boyle bir asimetri var ve siz devrettiginiz surece -hep- olacak. Yani siz kelime ve soyleme yonelik kesin bir iktidara sahipken, moderasyon ve adminlerin sizin varliginizin (ve dolayisiyla soylem ve mananizin) uzerinde bir iktidara sahip olacaklar. Baskasinin sitesine girdiginiz anda bu asimetriye biat etmis, tapi olmussunuzdur. tam olarak da burada itirazim var: Neden baskasinin imini timini bilmez, huyunu suyunu dahi anlamazken disaridan bu kadar rahat, bu denli "bize uyumlu olacagini varsayarak" hareket ediyor ve istirak ediyoruz? Ve neden hayal kirikligina ugrayinca bu ilk secim hakkina deginmiyoruz?

Anlayacaginiz, mesele sadece iktidar iliskisi de degil; iktidari ve mulkiyeti devrettigimiz gibi, devrettigimiz adami da tanimadan koynuna girmekten, sazi ve sozu emanet etmekten yana beis duymuyoruz. Burada "kendinden oyle" bir baskasi kadar, ne idugu flu adamlara bu iktidar ve yetkiyi devretmenin de getirdigi bir salaklik var, sorumlulugu "oteki"ne paslamadan evvel bu firsat ve hareket imkanini da zitmamak lazim. Hakki teslim edilecek bir sey varsa, ve butun bu uzun yazinin bir didaktik mesaji olacaksa budur, lutfen sorumlulugu yetkiliyi kim oldugunu bilmediginiz, tanimadiginiz, tanidiginizi sandiginiz, (buraya ozellikle dikkat) egitip, degistirip, gelistirebileceginizi sandiginiz elin ibisine devretmeyin. Devrederseniz de "fasist yonetim"den daha iyi bir bahaneniz olsun.

Diyesim su: ne eksisozlugu, ne de sosyomati yaratan sey admini, kodiri, ona tumlesik moderasyonu degil, inte... ]]> ~otisagabey New York, Old York. Dasein, all mein. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11619219/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11619219/ Tue, 30 Jan 2007 04:18:36 PST
5 30 am in the morning, that very special time of the day reserved exclusively and conclusively for the nicotine driven poets yearning for the past and future, as a way of cursing the present in which they are not getting any.

Hence their poetry\
.....\hence their yearning.

But I stand witness that it is also the time for a less notable, non rhyming minority of voices, the distant tire sounds whooshing in and out, the brief metal clanks of the garbage trucks, a couple talking in their otherwise natural speaking voices amplified a thousand times, barging in on to your dreams talking about Oprah and Phil, geriatrics and semantics, you know, the kind of topics the neighboring Columbia University students might talk about any given time of the day. In short, 'tis a time for everything that has a voice to be heard clearly and distinctly above everything else, and maybe that is precisely why poets wait all night long for it to happen. It's the kind of empty that makes you feel full and loaded. The kind of forced singularity that makes you think that you matter. A deserted road paved to take you whereever you want to go. Suddenly it seems the garbage trucks and the horny poets have similar motives for different reasons. And perhaps, similar uses on different occasions, too.

Heartened, I wonder out loud, filling my quota of poetical musings a la 530 am: "Maybe this too is my time". A time for the jet lag stricken people who woke up to the sound of their own voice and occasionally to the sound of a couple walking by, all of which heard equally loud and clear, one with a certain Texan twang, the other with a Turkish wheeze. Maybe, once again, or finally, or at least for a moment I can hear myself be myself this time, right here, being there, dasein.

Yes, I am back in the city I once belonged, but with a certain hesitation, for I thought I heard a voice in my sleep and it said: Yesterday I Was, Now I Was not, Tomorrow I Will, Now I Will not (yes I heard it with special capital emphasis on each word).

Whether that was me, or the night dwelling couple speaking into my dreams, I think that is the kind of wordplay that would make the young Heidegger proud. Thinking is thanking, yearning is earning, meaning is leaning to the magnificent and cumbersome dasein. Well, dasein, here I am, show some Concern, oder ein bischen Sorgen, and take me:

Now I Am, and now I am all yours.

]]> ~otisagabey Hrant Dink, The Champ who could. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11491368/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11491368/ Fri, 19 Jan 2007 08:23:59 PST
I checked my email as usual to see that my mother also took her time to celebrate my father's birthday with some forwarded sentimental power point attachment, which I dared not open. Then another text message came, and another, and another, all with free giveaways and discounts, all with CAPS here and there, exclamations galore, rejoicing even further. What a carnival.

I found my mother in the kitchen, writing even more emails to relatives and friends, to people who can (and will) open power point attachments, to those who wouldn't mind a few exclamation marks run amok. I waited a bit more for what is coming to me, and surely it did: An invitation to my father's grave. Again, to my mothers lack of surprise, I rejected it. I do not believe in it. Why not? Because my father is no more, I do not need an x on the map to mark that fact. But why not? Because he does not exist and therefore it is not "his" grave, it is simply a symbol rather unconveniently located in a religious place where graveyard dwelling folk spot you the moment you walk in with buckets and plastic bottles filled with water from a fountain 50 yards away, charging you a dollar each until eternity. What kind of sane person would put such a symbol in such environment?

But why not?

The question persisted, and I thought I had to find something else to replace what was there, with something better. I did just that.

You see, mother, a son (or for that matter a daughter) is a pale biological ghost of both parents. This is no hocus pocus, no metaphysics, no new age nonsense. Pure and simple science, my father has not (fully) died, he lives on. Not with who he is. Not with how he still pay the bills. Not in our memories and tear jerking power point slide shows. But in me, being one half of me.

Mother seemed interested in this scientific promise of immortality. I elaborated further, I said Mother, I said, you see, I am half you, half him, and there's no way getting around it. Like the colors, you see, like purple, like pink, I am you, I am him, and the symbol is not there in Karacaahmet, it's standing right in front of you, eating feta cheese, philosophizing in his under pants (yes I do that a lot.).

She seemed relieved. "So" she said, "it is a genetic thing.". I said "No", genetics is the language, the format we understand this continuum we call life. But life is not genetics, it is simply itself, shared by those who call themselves individuals occupying different coordinates as different vectors living in different time frames. So you are not yourself but your father and mother, ad infinitum. Therefore I am not myself but your father and mother, plus my father's mother and father. You see, mother, we all are living, and as long as we live, nothing really dies, since there's only one life and very many deaths.

So she said after a moment of reflecting, put down her glasses to say: Why don't you marry? Go forth and be fruitful? Multiply? How about that one girl I dated once? What about this one girl she saw on the newspaper? Sensing that she will bend the subject further towards marriage I gave up. I turned on TV to see "The Champ". The essential father and son movie. How appropriate.

You might remember the film. I didn't remember much of it except for the tearjerking final scene, and that it was a smash hit here in Turkey in early 80s when we had only one tv channel. Since I cry a lot during movies, and since this one seemed a good candidate to do so on this very special day, I wished that my mom to leave quick, so that I can watch it alone crying my ass off.

For those of you who don't know/remember what it is, it's about this father and his son. There's this blonde guy, The Champ, the father. There's this blonde kid, the whiny bastard, the son. The father who used to be a boxer have some drinking, gambling problems, the son has some lacrimation problems. They get along well, until one day the mother shows up from nowhere. She is fithy rich, but also with a heart of gold. She left the child to his redneck father and gone, but bear with us, she is good. Anyhow, things go wrong, the father takes the responsibility, decides to go back to boxing like he used to. A bit of a montage here, a little training footage there and he is ready. He fights, barely wins the match, but dies due to complications. At last what I have been waiting for, the final... ]]> ~otisagabey Excuses and Reasons Rhyme http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11455961/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11455961/ Tue, 16 Jan 2007 04:49:05 PST
There are couple of reasons why I wasn't able to keep my journal up to date, and I hope you couldn't care less. They are very similar to the reason why I have to pause and check what I have written after every sentence so far in this journal. When you start something, and you know it is going to be important to you in some way, you urge to check, and check and check again to see if you are starting out fine. You don't want to commit to something that starts shitty. Because you all know, most of the time things end like the way they start. So we think: If we can just make it good at the beginning, we might at least have something to keep up with. Such is the way we handle relationships, jobs, school, home, and good sex.

"The thrill of the new" invigorates but also keeps us from improvising freely. It urges us to imitate those who have grown old into something they have started some time back, yet they don't even remember when, or worse, whom. Since fucking up later is an issue to be considered later, we imitate now and here, hoping that we don't fuck up the moment we launch, or better at least navigate gracefully in our decision, not really worrying about where we are heading. Now that I stop to read the last sentence, I realized it desperately needed these two words: in vain. And that is true for the sentence before this one, too. And this one. And this. This, too.

Aha. That gives me a new perspective, considering how everything is in vain gives us a better judgement among the things that are otherwise equally in vain. An exception perhaps to this rule is the life itself, which of course is in vain, starts without our consent, where we cannot ask to do a retake, enter naked and crying, shitting ourselves for a considerable amount of time. Some wisecracking person noted this phenomenon so that you might receive it in your email as the quote of the day along with the googleads at the bottom of the page:

"We are all born naked, hungry and crying. Then things start going worse."

I appreciate the humor (and the cheap Viagra offer), but I cannot agree that it gets worse (at least not when cheap Viagra is around). Most of the time it gets better, at least for a good while. In time, with good fortune and health, you learn to walk, talk, eat, drink, fuck and be merry. That is much better than sleeping for 20 hours, crying all the time when you are awake, shitting yourself (which as you might have guessed was a big issue during my infancy), sucking on your mothers tits (which rarely remains popular among grown ups). For this reason alone I think many people who advocate some sort of editorial restraint on the things we chose to grow into, would probably go right back to their mothers womb, commit suicide, or both.

All in all the infancy, with all its self shitting and drooling seems to be a good idea. Better keep that as a mental reference to things you start building upon from the scratch, which like the word itself never sounds good at first.

Of all the people who amount to something, Franz Liszt would agree with me the most on this issue. I bet he would go all the way to the point of chest bouncing me in the mid air. You see, Franz Liszt, one of my personal heroes, had absolutely no sense of the much celebrated and over-rated "editorial restraint". He believed in impulsive method, he also believed in going back to retouch the stuff he did even after 30 years, to create something new, to see how he aged.

Some argue that it was precisely for this reason he was able to become a perfect pianist but/and considered a poor composer. People and critics rarely appreciated what was good and discard/ignore what was not so good, and so Liszt was pretty much had to be remembered my the "mean" (pun intention) average of the compositions he was able to publish and play thanks to his god-like performing abilities. There seems to be a number of reasons why Liszt had to be considered a bad composer (critics moral obligation to their work which commanded them to search for things to criticise, love/hate relationship towards his gift, petty jealousy, etc), yet there seems to be no reason to strike out the good stuff he did. And I must say, it did him good, I don't he would be who he was without doing what was impulsive to him: to be impulsive. People seem to forget, or don't know diddly about the fu... ]]> ~otisagabey A good reason to sleep http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11266747/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11266747/ Sun, 31 Dec 2006 22:57:07 PST
Okay, so, wow. I suddenly realised that, starting a journal is a way of growing roots to something. Commitment. Wait. That is so unlike me. So should I count myself out of the journal that I have just started writing a moment ago? For that second thought? The doubt? The ever persistent "what if"? Oh no.

Well, even if I don't commit myself to this journal (or anything else for that matter), I should commit myself to ending this particular one. And please be kind to read it, or shoo if you don't like it.

Anyhow.

I think you will all agree: A new year has that "a new year"ness to it. You can not take it away from that. No matter how hard you try, no matter how silly and common and plebeian or bourgeois it sounds, that's a given. A new year speaks for itself. Maybe just for the face value of it, that you say it's name and voila, it has its power already. The rest is filling in the outlines. But... it is new, it is a year like the one we know, read, enumerate, classify and so forth. It is better than the old one. Or at least should be better than the old one. Hence the newness. I think you can not separate the connotation of the "new" from the consumerist psyche: if it is new, it must be good.

So, I consider this new year, as a new year somewhat or less than that. Give or a take a year or two and you are still in the ballpark.

And as with everything that is new and speaks for itself only on those ambiguous and somewhat promising terms, I expect some good shit from the new year. And please, excuse my sudden rush of expletives, for that was the part where I exposed myself bare, being the expectant, hopeful and therefore not the usual cynical, sarcastic and so above the earthly standards of the mortals everywhere self. So I had to cover it up with the expletive, as a way of playing it down, keeping it cool, acting normal around your crush kind of shit. So there's a lot to "shit" than you know. Just so you know.

That's that, I expect some good stuff from the new year. But then again what is a year? And how do you fill in the outlines? How do you take out the pages off the calendar, unless of course you are not checking for the menu of the day, then it is pretty easy and carefree thing to do. I read old calendars every now and then when I find some and old years are nothing to worry about other than the impossibly stupid dishes and feminized names of the day for the girls who are so unfortunate to have their names picked off a shitty calendar. But, I digress. Those seem to fall under some other fond memories of the past now reflected upon seems so interesting something. Better luck next time, fond memories of the past.

Well, I expect some good things and there's not sidetracking, pussyfooting around that issue. But what do I do to be worthy of that one-sided expectation seems to be the question at hand. Do I, in the lamest way possible "be positive" about it and hope that it fall on my lap? Obviously not, judging by the way I asked the question you should have guessed it.

So I decided, after a loooong sabbatical which pretty much caused by the "you know what and you know how" that I should get out and join something. Sounds pretty lame, but being the lonely, introverted inquisitive and so forth of myself grew thin already. Being lonely, and misunderstood and uniquely gifted posthumously talented yada yada has its way of justifying itself, even more than everything else does. Like everything that has a path to follow, loneliness has its own shtick, its own raison daitre (I am not sure if I spelled it right but admit it: french sounds pretty here) to make it worth your while. And if you don't do something about it, other than the eventual socializing with this and that, it even forms a better guideline to follow. So a new year's resolution or not, I decided against it. It's vetoed it out of my life. Gone. Shoo. Here's your hat, where are you going?

It seems to me the lonely are way too crowded with the people that they never met and how they might judge him (and yes, HIM, is just another way lonely people thinks of other lonely people, as their offshoots). And being the lonely people they are, they never go out to find their own selves in other "lonelies", hermits, munzevis. And that is how the circle is formed and reimbursed and all that.

So I thought, maybe it is time to get out and see some people, some people who exist outside of my mind, outside of who I think they are, outside of the same ol same ol. I am not expecting to see anything, just expecting that them to be different than I always imagined they a... ]]> ~otisagabey Dictators jump the shark, too. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11241673/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11241673/ Sat, 30 Dec 2006 06:05:57 PST
That he was oppressive and power hungry. That he hated Blair and Bush. The Beatles. And (if he only knew), probably me.

Saddam, yet another single point failure, one among many in the league of those who "could" and naturally "did" what was within their ability to claim and hold the power above people: to rule, to command and invariably, to fail, either in his dead bed surrounded by yes men and bootlickers of all sorts whom he was forced to call "friends and compatriots" a la Pinochet, or "what we have here": to die on the noose, "which is the way he wants it, well, he gets it."

A life lived, and the reflection of it left to us observers words leap to one's mind: The sadness, the glory, the (insert your dramatic noun here) and the sweetness follows.

Really, what can you say about a dictator who lived?

or perhaps better,

What can a dictator say about himself, whether he is on the noose or or on the loose, whether drawing his last breath or blowing the candles of, yet another year of "a life well-lived"?

That he was worthy and all-knowing. That he knew he was non-exchangeable. That he was the only one for the job, and surely none other could fill in. That he hated to see what was so beautiful come to an end due to his irresponsibility. That with great powers, comes great responsibilities. And all that second grade comic book witticisms and wisdom a dictator is entitled to follow.

Although obviously and undeniably juvenile in nature, I am quite sure that it is not within my power to quote the inner workings and the mind (assuming there is one), of a person in power of others. Simply because I think I have never been there. However , one might speculate and err, and naturally I will do just that; albeit not on care-free regular basis like the dictators are known to do so to and for their subjects and their lives.

Here's a derivative I believe Nietzsche would contest: The power over people, whether absolute or relative, corrupts absolutely, or relatively.

This simple fact, though simply by the virtue of being simple is quite accessible even to a 13 year old (but not Nietzsche, who at least gave it a thought so that he can argue otherwise), often escapes those in power, perhaps adding to the reason why dictators almost always fail to abdicate whenever humanly possible. Of course, being the erring speculator I am, I assume that they consider being corrupt beyond any recognition as a thing to be avoided at all costs. If not, then all the more reason not to abdicate too much of a good thing.

But let us humor them and at least "try" to do them justice: Abdication of power and status is not without its due consequences. The vanishing friends, evanescent compatriots, the risk of being the butt of the jokes (at least once again out in the open), the words spoken unheard and uncared for (yet again, once again openly and carelessly), boots unpolished, ego waned, and myriad of problems that one might easily forget to live with and wouldn't want to remember anyway.

But what other than the shiny boots make your while at the top? What really is there to be left behind to care about? The tongues that lick but can not speak? The circle of friends that can and will say only what you want to hear (and thus became and remain friends)? A mind forever anal and juvenile, kept spoiled to remain in a perpetual arrested development?

Is this due to our inbred slave morality? Are we jealous of the spectacular way he failed in a world everyone else does?

Maybe it is that us observers have everything to say and nothing to do about ourselves, and that is our tragedy. The dictators have everything to do and nothing to say about themselves, and that is theirs.

And yet, what is there to say about the adherents, the innumerable list of "second men" who would eagerly and willingly comply with the whims of a dictator? Living just to able to have their share of the reflected glory: only to see a reflection of themselves off the boots they licked clean, merely to exist on something they themselves have polished in the first place; what more do they have in this play, other than banality and buffoonery?

Still, the mirror I polish here, perhaps owing to all its distortion, misgivings and lack of skill shows a picture that looks comedic, or maybe that's just me.

I am sorry for Saddam, the dictator, the man, the killer, the giver, the sinner, the saint who died at the tender age of sixty nine, perhaps hoping to see many turns of the calendar, perhaps expecting nothing more. Yet I doubt that he was nor he would ever be sorry for who he was, what he did and how he died. After all his name meant: One who confronts. I wonder if Nietzsche would approve of this "nomen e... ]]> ~otisagabey Şöhretin Bedeli: Biri bizi özetliyor. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11059625/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/11059625/ Thu, 14 Dec 2006 08:10:53 PST
"Otobiyografiler iğrençtir."

Bu yargısını ifade ederken yüzüne yerleşen buruşmadan öte bir savı ve dayanağı olmadığından otobiyografilerden keyif aldığımı söylemekten yana tedirgin ve müteredditim. Tedirginim çünkü otobiyografilere karşı bu tiksintinin, o hasmane tavrın, şu yüz ekşitmenin mahut eski dostumun şahsi tekelinde olmadığını biliyorum. Müteredditim çünkü simaen tanınmanın getirdiği kısa süreli şöhretin ardından "meşhur olmaya dair" kaleme alacağım her türlü ifadenin içinde kimi eski dostları da barındıran bir seyircisi olmasından çekiniyorum.

Hadi "yargısız" demeyelim de, öteden beri yalapşap yargılı infazlara yatkınlığımı da bildiğimden (bu konudaki yargım ve az sonra dile getireceğim yargılar da bu yatkınlıktan azade değildir), yeni çıkmış meşhura yönelik dahlin acımasızlığı ve hoyratlığından yana karşılaşacaklarımın yüzünde bir zamanlar ben olan kişinin (ve o eski dostumun) ifadesini tekrar göreceğimden, görüp utanacağımdan, utanarak kendime yok yere haksızlık edeceğimden çekiniyorum. Ve fakat bunu geçmiş ile yüzleşmek için bir bahane yapmak için buradan ve bundan daha iyi bir fırsat olabilir mi?

Otobiyografileri seviyorum, ama az dur, otobiyografilerin öyle her yerini sevmiyorum. Otobiyografilerin bile/de gazının kaçtığı "5. filmimden sonra ne oldu, en yakın dostum şunla çıktığımız bilmemne gezisi" kısmından ziyade, meşhur olmadan önceki halleri ve mümkünse meşhur olma sürecini daha ilginç buluyorum. Öyle ki Amerika'da kütüphanelere (oto)biyografi bölümü açılmasını gerektirecek kadar sıklıkla kaleme alınan bu kodeksli janrın orta cilde denk gelen kuşe kağıda baskı fotoğraflarında dahi her zaman tanınmışlıktan öncesi ve o ilk yıllarına odaklandığımı, ilerki fotoğraflara sadece ilk haliyle arasındaki farkları not etmek için baktığımı söylemem lazım. Şunu demeye getiriyorum, az sonra yazacağım bölüm ileride bir gün otobiyografi yazmaya ve basmaya değer bir hayatım olursa (ki Amerika gibi Webster'ın dahi biyografisinin olduğu bir ülke için bu hedefe çoktan varmış sayılırım) okumak istediğim kısım olacak, yazmanın bahanesi/sebebi bundan başkası değil. 3 kuruş maaşa dvd köşesi hazırlayanların derlediği sikko tanıtım yazılarında da uyarı maksadıyla hep denildiği gibi: Meraklısına.

Öncelikle yüzeysel ünlü olma ayrıntılarını yazı;p, teyid edeyim.

Bana verilen reytingler hileli hurdalı değilse, o gece tv izlenen dört evden birisinde sıfatımın görülmesinin etkilerine dair bir takım beklentilerim olsaydı (ki programın reytinginden ve sallanılırlığından yana hiç bir fikrim yoktu), bu kadarını beklemez ve ummazdım. 20 dakikalık bir segmentin sonunda öyle bir mimlenmişim ki bugün dahi sokakta "ekşisözlük ehehehheeh" tepkisini almadan gezmem mümkün olmuyor. Yanlış anlaşılmasın sokakta, kamuya açık alanda tanınır hale gelmeyi şaşırtıcı buluyor değilim, bunun bu kadar kısa süren bir program sayesinde mümkün olmasını hayret edilesi buluyorum. "ekşisözlük eheheheh" diyenlerin bunu çekinmeden "diyebilenler" denen daha az sayıda bir kümeyi temsil etmesi sebebiyle ise daha tedirginim, tanıyı;p da tanımayanların adedi şehir gibi tanınmamayı bekleyerek hareket ettiğiniz bir sosyal yapı içinde bütün hareket ve önkabulleri (en azından tanındığınız süre boyunca) yeniden düzenlemek lüzumunu getiriyor.

Yukarıdaki paragraftan bir çok kişinin beni ekşisözlük olarak tanıdığını, ya da adlandırdığını çıkarımsamışsındır. Buradan hareketle ekşisözlükte bir şeylere kıllanmış, heyheylenmiş birilerinin de beni sorumlu ve yetkili kabul etmesi (bu vesileyle not edeyim: ekşisözlüğe bir sonraki alımların ne zaman yapıldığını BÄ°LMÄ°YORUM.) ihtimalinden çekinir oldum. Reha Muhtar'ın beni ısrarla EkşiSözlük olarak anons etmesinin böylesi tuhaf etkileri olacağını bileydim, mikrofonu elinden alır müdehale ederdim. Edemedim, ikinci bir emre kadar bir çok kişinin EkşiSözlük olarak tanımasıyle yaşamam lazım. Hiç rahatlatıcı değil.

Yine sıradan sayılır bir durum var. Psikoloji metinlerinde sıklıkla karşılaşılan "ünlüyü arkadaş sanma"nın iki türlüsüne de muhatap oluyorum. Ä°lki tvden görmüş kişilerin bir yerden tanıyı;p emin olamamaları sebebiyle eski arkadaşları olduğumu varsaymaları. Diğeri i... ]]> ~otisagabey Pazartesi Gecesi Ateşi http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/10668853/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/10668853/ Thu, 09 Nov 2006 13:13:32 PST
* "Böylesi bir programa neden katılıyorsun/katıldın?"

Tek kelime ile özetleyeyim: Sıkıntıdan.
Çift kelime ile renklendireyim: Deniz Akkaya.
Ayrıntılı döküm ise şu:

Cumartesi gecesi kardeşim Aziz Kedi aradı. Merhaba merhaba. Pişti programına çıkmak ister miyim? Ä°sterim, kim sunuyor? Reha Muhtar, birileri, birileri, DENÄ°Z AKKAYA, birileri. Eyvah eyvah- Konuklar kim? Ajdar ile Ä°nternet Mahir? Benim ne alakam var? Bir alakan yok, internet ve sözlük aleminden tanınmış birisinin görüşlerini almasıdır. Abi az bir düşüneyim.

O sırada yanımda Aethewulf ve Gari var. Soruyorum: Durum böyle böyle, çıkayım mı? Çık abi (x2).

Yine de emin olamıyorum. Sonra aklıma programın yayınlanacağı gece geliyor: Pazartesi gecesi. Msn. Sosyomat. Devyant. Yapacak daha iyi bir işim yok, kurtluyum, programda Deniz Akkaya var, kendisinin öteden beri hastasıyım, 2001 yılının Ocak ayında kendisi henüz selebriti olmamışken 20 dakka boyunca oturduğu masa civarında binbir bahane yaratı;p dönenişim, akşam icq da eşe dosta "bugün bir kız gördüm elf prensesi gibiydi" diyişim aklıma geliyor. Katılmak istediğime karar veriyorum.

Bundan sonra: Aziz Kedi'yi geri araması, "çok güzel" olacağı yönünde mutabakata varış. Program yapımcılarından birisi ile temasa geçmesi, genel bilgi alışverişi, konuklardan ve muhtemel konumumdan kıllandığımı belirtme ihtiyacı. "Hiç merak etme"mem yönünde telkin. Daha az merak ederek cumartesi gecesine devam etmesidir.

Özetle: Bir pazartesi gecesi yapılacak işler içinde en eğlenceli ve en Deniz Akkaya'lı alternatiften yana oy kullandım, pişman olmadığım gibi, ziyadesiyle mutluyum (göz kırpan smayli). Yani o programda ne "işim" vardı? Hiç bir "işim" yoktu. Programa katılırken ne hedeflemiştim? Eğlenmeyi, Deniz Akkaya'yı.

Hedeflerime vardım elhamşükür.

* "Popüler Kültür'e laf sokup Popüler Kültür'ü beslemek" yönünde bir takım eleştiriler.

Topyekün "popüler kültür" karşıtı değilim. Varsaydığınız otisabi ile mevcut yazdığı çizdiği ile kayıtlı otisabi arasında oluşan uçurumun da sorumlusu ben değilim. Popüler Kültür eleştirilir, makara konusu edilir, laf sokulur ama red edilemez.

Yığınlar ve kültürü oldukça, yığınların bir takım müştereklerde bulunması, o müştereklerin de kültürleşip "sağılması" kaçınılmazdır.

Popüler Kültür eleştirisi iktisadi, politik bir makro eleştirinin parçasıdır, alt kümesidir, sistem ve yapılardan soyut ve izole değildir. Zülfü Livaneli tipi "kültür fizik" denklemleriniz yoksa, sistemleri kültür ile açıklamaktan, salt kültür eleştirisi yapmaktan imtina edersiniz.

Yani mevcut sistem içinde "uyumlu" olup da, sistemin parçalarından bazılarına "uyumsuz ve aykırı" olmanın, iştirak etmeyerek "yok oluşuna" hizmet edildiğine sanmanın iler tutar bir yanı olduğunu sanmıyorum. "Pişti programına otisabi katılırsa "popüler kültür"ü güçlendirir, (varsayılan/yakıştırılan) misyonunu kaybeder, o halde katılmamalıdır" söylemini bu makro perspektiften bakarak tekrar gözden geçirmek gerekiyor.

Abilerim, ablalarım sistem'in bütünü içinde pasif ya da aktif, alenen ya da zımnen katıldığınız ve iştirak ettiğiniz her türlü pratik ve olgunun bu anlamda o sistemin sonürünü olan "pişti" gibi programları beslediğini, besleyeceğini de düşünün. Ve vicdanınıza değil aklınıza sorun, bu tip sonürünleri var eden ve yaşatan sisteme öyle ya da böyle iştirak etmenin sorgulanması önemli değil mi?

Diyesim o ki: iştirakçilik ve işbirlikçiliği pişti programıyla değil, oturduğunuz yerde oturmanız ile başlıyor ve tescilleniyor. Mesele "neyin parçası" olduğunuz değil, parçası olduğunuz yapı içinde kim ve ne olduğunuz, nasıl ve ne şekilde davrandığınız. Sorun neye ve niye iştirak ettiğiniz değil, nasıl ve ne şekilde iştirak ettiğiniz, nasıl faaliyet gösterdiğiniz.

Katıldığım bu ve daha evvel ki programlarda, iştirak ettiğim dergi ve yayın organlarında genel geçer popüler kültür kıstas ve kriterlerine uygunlandım, sistemin beklenti ve söylemlerine, sığlığına ve angutluğuna biat ettim mi?

Ä°ki seneyi aşkın bir süredir Vatan Dergi Grubundan çıkan bir Erkek D... ]]> ~otisagabey Schadenfreude Forever http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/10381909/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/10381909/ Fri, 13 Oct 2006 16:09:49 PDT
And, by god, I loved that.

I loved every single second of seeing the hatred pour, correction gush, out of Turkish general public, who would normally kill to be a part of anything this big. The schadenfreude of this magnitude, I am trembling.

Wasn't that fun to see for once, just for once, to see a special someone scoring an intended own goal, ripping through the fabric of endless ignorance, chauvinism, and the blind denial that has long webbed its path through and through from post to post for many centuries in our name, and got awarded in return?

Wasn't it fun to see that finally someone proving that it is us, it was always us, that needed to be scored against? Us, with our infinite arsenal of prejudice, guilt, cowardice and shame ready made and served by the state sponsored propaganda of personality cults and demigods and their unending myths. It was us, like a patient suffering from narcissistic disorder who always felt like we were "done wrong", "victimized" and wanted desperately to score against "the others", "the enemies", "the west", "the east" and everyone else that is outside of ourselves. And now "we" took a beating, and sweet jesus, buddha and zeus, we had to like it.

For the first time in my life I saw the magnified self image of the midget we call "us" broken down, for the first time I saw that one of us, had the courage and the brains to do something more than staring at the mirror and talking back to our distorted sense of self, but rather prove that we could only better ourselves through destroying us: to kill what is sick, degenerated and rotten, and make room for something bright, new and hopeful.

Oh the thrill, oh the beauty of destroying what was us, and to be someone else, someone more like Pamuk, the man who had the courage despite the very thing he was made of: Us.

Schadenfreude, forever, für immer, daima.

]]> ~otisagabey Karılığın karı http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/10086989/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/10086989/ Sat, 16 Sep 2006 02:25:45 PDT
Karılık güzel şey. ]]> ~otisagabey Otis Çiçek Açtı. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/9909773/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/9909773/ Wed, 30 Aug 2006 16:01:58 PDT
Uzun zamandır gözlemledim, iddia ediyorum, cinsiyet hanende female/karı olunca DA de hit sayın 2.5 ile çarpılıyor. Bunu da ispatlamak için bugünden tezi yok KARI olmaya karar verdim. User olarak karı görünüyorum, avatarım karı avatarı. Bu hesabımda başka "karı gibi"likler yapmayı düşünmüyorum. Sadece künyeden/avataradan hareketle oluşacak hit artışını gözlemlemek, size bir geri besleme yapmak, raporlama etmek istiyorum.

Olabildiğince sağlıklı bir kontrol grubu oluşturmak için bundan sonra karı olarak yayınladıklarımı hem erkek, hem kadın olarak açacağım ve kimliklerini size de pek çıtlatmayacağım iki fake accounttan sürdüreceğim. Bu iki hesapta da aynı işleri yayınlamak, -her ne kadar watch listem yeterince ispatlıyor olsa da- herhangi bir karının 2.5 kat ve daha fazla hit aldığını ispatlamak niyetindeyim.

Herhangi bir işe yarayacağını, paradigmayı kaydıracağını iddia etmiyorum. Ama senelerdir iddia ettim, ispatlaması da bana kalsın ]]> ~otisagabey Kiss me Hardy. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/9503452/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/9503452/ Wed, 26 Jul 2006 16:55:29 PDT
At least not on regular basis. Don't get me wrong, I am not being judgemental. Okay- I am being judgemental. But secretly, "Keeping to myself" kind of judgemental. (And I know now that I said it, it is not that secret anymore.) To put it bluntly, I am not seeing myself whoring for pageviews in the next 5 years. But then again, that's me. We might agree to disagree. Whatever makes you happy. To each his own. Jedem das seine.

But please, let me be honest, I understand where you're coming from. Really.

Let's drop the negative connotation of the verb. Let's look on the plus side: pageview whoring is not really that bad. For one thing, it works. You get more page views. You fill your basket. You make it into the hall of fame in DA. And when you think about it that way, we're all whoring for something, aren't we? You guys are doing it out in the open, straight up, no nonsense whoring. We, on the other hand, we are being infinitely and incurably smug. We choose to sell ourselves by being discreet, sarcastic, witty-witty, learned and in a subtle fashion that disallows "common" ways whoring. We have a sense of duty to our nobility of the elite mind, and might even say, we're heading for a different market. How shall we say? More or less a boutique way of whoring around. The writing on the wall sez: Caveat emptor.

So that's us in the shadows, sneaky and apologetic for some reason, you on the other hand, in the broad day light, unabashed, resolute and happy. Must I really say the obvious, must I really do that? Must I finally tell that we feel an intense hatred for your gargantuan confidence, your unalienable right to Lake Wobegon citizenship, your lawfully inherited birthright to Dunning-Kruger Syndrome. Combined, we stand horrified to what we see, who we are, so openly in your countenance untouched by guile or shame. We are the evil of a thousand eyes, the wrath of god, the hell which hath no fury like an artiste scorned. La règle du jeu.

But how did I get here? Pageview whoring. Ok. Here's why I kept the entry long and winding touching base with the common human condition and miseries we're all going through. Given the fact that I can truly feel for them, why do I still can not help myself to be feel ashamed when I see one in the process of whoring for pageviews? (Here's a wonderful chance to do something: let's invent a verb for feeling ashamed on behalf of somebody else for the things that they have done when they should have known better. And let that verb forever ring in our ears, tearing their drums like a leaping Jaguar (sorry non Turkish folks, you will not get this pun))

Why do you even bother? What's the point? Quo vadis?

Please, for the love of everything that does not suck, for the love of the verb which will soon bloom like a tumor on the tip of our lips, stop whoring for pageviews without considerable amount of prior restraint.

Come join us: let's whore together, and get what we deserve. But this time with a little bit more finesse and tactfulness. Who knows, maybe we can all be cweeks one day.

Kismet, Hardy, Kismet.

(The end of the paragraph cliches and catchphrases brought to you by Wikipedia. Wikipedia is a non profit organisation seeking to help those who are in dire need to improve journals of those who in dire need of jazzing up their style through verbosity.) ]]> ~otisagabey Dinimiz en güzel Dindir. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/9288659/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/9288659/ Thu, 06 Jul 2006 05:01:08 PDT
Hatırladığım açık tonların aksine permanent monokrom Karaoğlan/Ä°bo siyahı saçlı, konuk olduğu stüdyoda mukim cart kırmızı sofanın (ki Türkiye Cumhuriyeti stüdyo konuk ağırlama tüzüğüne resmi gazete ile dayatıldığına inanıyorum) kenarına tünemiş kendinden emin bir hobbit gibiydi. Jest, mimik ve vücut diliyle çok şey anlattıysa da özetle şunu diyordu:

Büyüye, büyücüye; fala, falcıya inanmayın. (İşbu satırları yazarken hala anlatıyor olabilir. Hesapladım: Zekeriya Beyaz gibi bir şey anlatmak saatte vasati 1000 kalori yaktırırken, Levent Ä°nanır gibi bir şey anlatmak saatte (kıl ve kürk cinsinden) 2 kilo aldırıyor olabilir )

Beyaz'ın "Ä°slam alimi" süsü vermeye çalıştığı pilli bebe suretine yakışacak bir "büyünün dinimizde yeri yoktur" diskuru yerine bilimsel/çağdaş bir söylemler ile (bilimsel uygunsuzluğu, psikolojik altyapısı vb.) bu olguları çürütmeye çalışması dikkatimi celbetti. Çağdaş ve "en güzel din" olma iddiasıyla (ki bu son yargıyı mümkün kılan estetik kriterleri merak ediyorum. Ä°slam en güzel din ise, Hristiyanlık sempati güzeli, Şintoizm mayo güzeli, Budizm abiye güzeli olabilir mi?) pastel mevlana tonlarıyla, Burhan Çaçan profilli ramazan ekleriyle Hürriyet okuru, Canyon müdavimi Beyaz Türk hayatına düzeyli bir şekilde entegre olan Ä°slam'ın (öyle ya da böyle) Alim'inin metafizik bir takım kavram ve inançları bilimsel jargon ile ezmeye, çürütmeye kalkması bana ironik geldi.

"Bilinçaltında bastırdığımız korkular, şuur altındaki özlem ve tatminsizliklerin dışa vurumu" olarak nitelendirdiği (ve büyük oranda katıldığım) büyü ve fal olgularının ait olduğu metafizik kümenin bir elemanının da frontperson 'ı olduğu Ä°slam ve değerler evreni olduğu ihtimalini değerlendiremiyor olması şaşırtıcı değil mi? Büyünün ve fal'ın ispatını görmeden inanmayan pozitivist Beyaz ve şürekasının söz konusu Ä°slam'ın metafizik söylemleri olunca cart kırmızı bir stüdyo sofasının üzerine oturur gibi (yer yukarıdaki teşbihimi hatırlatmak yeridir) rahat ve müsterih olmasına hayretler ediyorum.

Ä°slam ve dahi metafizik her türlü kesin ve yanlışlanamaz inancın pozitivist yöntemlerle savunulması bir tuhaf. Ä°slam'a veya herhangi bir metafizik disipline inanmak o disiplinin kendi normatif evreninde yasaklı ve mümkünsüz değerlerin kabulü ile ölçülebilir, şeylerin ispatı ve yanlışlanması da ancak o disipline ait ve içkin içtihat, kural ve dogmalarıyla yapılabilir. Söz konusu Allah'ın varlığı ve birliği, Muhammed'in onun elçisi ve resulü olduğu gibi önkabullerin reddi olduğunda askıya aldığınız pozitivist yöntemleri metafizik kulvarda rakip inanç sistemlerine karşı kullanmayı "güzel ahlak"lığıyla övündüğünüz Ä°slam'ın ve ağyarındaki ahlak sistemlerin bir yerine konduramıyorum. (bu son paragrafta Zekeriya Beyaz'ın bu yazıyı okuduğunu ve boyasının atip aslına rücu ettiğinin hayalini kurmuş olabilirim.)

Kanaat notum şu: Ortodoks Ä°slam'ın (ve nezdinde monoteist inançların) ilk başından beri en temel hatası kendi metafizik konumunu haklı ve inanılır kılmak için kendi konumuyla denk başka metafizik kavramları yok saymaya, kendisini müstesna kılarak eldeki her türlü rasyonel ve empirik yöntem ile yanlışlamaya çalışmasıdır. Yani kelime-i şahadet noktasından itibaren arıza (bu arızanın binlerce yıl süren politikası sonucunda şimdi çok şey ifade etmese de) "Allah birdir" ardına "ondan başka tanrı/ilah yoktur" un eklenmesi mecburiyetidir.

Allah'ın bir olması zaten kaçınılmaz olarak Allah'a edilen ibadetin, ona yapılan teslimiyet'in konusunu oluşturur. Allah'ın dışında kalan metafizik varlık ve iddiaların olmayışından değil, Allah'ın yanında lafının edilmeyeceğinden bahsetmek varken, metafizik bir kapı aralayı;p tam ve kesin inanç beklerken o kapıdan bir tek disiplini geçirmeye kalkışmak temel sorunu yaratıyor (bkz: müsamaha kapısı aralanmaya gelmez ardına kadar açılır). Eğer ki Allah "var"sa ve kati bilimsel, pozitivist ispatı değil ondan geldiğine inanmamız gereken ve ona yönlendirilmiş bir inanç sisteminin kuralları esas ise, bu inanç serbestliği metafizik kümeye ait her türlü varlık ve yargıya da imkan ve geçit veriyor. O durumda da Allah ve Ä°slam sistemi dışında kalan metafizik sistem, disiplin ve inançlara metafizik çerçeve dışında yanlışlamalar getirilmeye çalışılıyor, bu yöntemler de metafizik temelli Ä°slam ile beraber anıldığında (rte'nin deyimiyle) "ters miknatisma" yapıyor. Ah ne vardı, mantıksal buglar vermemek adına, inancın kendisi inancın dışından büyük ve önemli olaydı. Ne vardı monoteizm diktası yerine, monizm... ]]> ~otisagabey There and Back Again (No Hobbits Please) http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8600449/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8600449/ Thu, 27 Apr 2006 10:03:28 PDT
My 6 year exile in US of A has come to an end and the first thing I wonder (as I often do without any due respect to that certain wondering obligation we follow when we reflect upon things like these) , why do I even bother to write in english anymore? Will I drag this english speaking (and sometimes thinking) "other" of mine along? And if I do, I wonder how far and for how long will I bear with him? And for that matter how long before he abandons me goes back to a place he calls "home".

There and back again, I am back to this Hobbit Hole I sometimes call home, and sometimes it too calls me back. Again: for how long? (How far just don't seem applicable). Of course, as it goes with journal entries of this ilk I have to entertain you. Imagine me mentioning some jetlag experience here, small anecdotes there and please be kind and imagine me coming back to the subject again: belonging to a place.

Recently a friend in efforts to comfort me reminded me of the connection between miracle (mucize) and weakness (acz) in Turkish (of course none of these words were Turkish, but Arabic. Still since there's no such thing as purebred Turk, there shall be no purebred Turkish. Oktay S and TDK eat your blackened hearts out.) I wonder if there's any such connection between longing and belonging. If there is, let it be known, I long for so many different things in so many different places all at once, simultaneously. I long for people I have known and met here in turkey, I long for the city, the life, bike rides in Prospect Park, the greasy pizza and the feeling of solitary confidence NYC gave me, and I long for the sunny side up enthusiasm, and good weather, broad smiles and the calm LA had plenty to offer; the cheese steak and reading books in a corner reserved for me Philadelphia had among the other unnoticable articles of interest Philly had to offer. "The more you gain, the more you lose" the obvious question stands watching (or more like ogling) this aphorism like a stranger at the window:

How can you be in only one place and miss everything and everywhere?

All those who might raise an eyebrow, raise it up, curl a lip, curl it into a question mark, and say it please, confidently and openly "Otis, we will have none of that". Say it and watch me join your canon "We will have none of your petite bourgeois turbulations, your heimatlos angst and your weltschmerz and the plethora of Frankfurt School terms. Your trouble belonging and your long winded lists of itemized longings, save your solipsism to your self, and let it be known: those, we shall have none of it, we shall have none of those."

I will be with you there, along those lines of intolerant beration, hitting more high notes than your average castrato and will even throw in the complimentary fever pitch tempo, the kind unsurpassed since Sevki Yilmaz fever pitching in Mecca. But when your heat dies away and you go back being yourselves and I am back again, I will be sitting in my Hobbit Hole, contemplating it all, the cities I have been, the lives I have led, and many others that you will find if and when you too go there, and perhaps might come back again.

Tag şeyi (türkçeye dönüş sinyalleri)

* Uzun zamandır mahkeme kararıyla ismimi Ergün PENBE ye çevirmeyi düşünüyorum.

* Oldukça iri ve faal bir cinsel organım var. (dizüstü bilgisayarları efektif kullanamıyorum)

* Oral seks öncesi partnerime Maraş Dondurmacısı şakası yapmayı çok severim. (özellikle sahte külah numarasını başarıyla uygularım.)

* Soğuk günlerde *dahi* penisimi çorabıma sokabiliyorum (bacaklarım uzun, ve kısa bilekli çorap giyerim)

* 6 Madde ile kısıtlanmayı sevmediğim söylenebilir.

* Madde başlarına yıldız atınca kaç madde yazdığımı saymakta güçlük çekiyorum.

* Cevat Prekazi'nin Monaco maçında 37 metreden attığı golü o sırada oyuncaklarımla oynadığım için kaçırdığım için kendimi affedemiyorum.

* 37 metre lik bir mesafeyi kamışımla arşınlamak 3 dakika sürüyor.

* Belkıs Akkale'nin 3 saniye içinde ağladığı bir Tv programının ardından günlerce uğraştımsa da 3 saniye içinde ağlamayı beceremedim.

* Tenasül Uzvuma her gün başka bir isim takarım. (En son Ergün Penbe ismini takmıştım.)

* Yılmaz Morgül'ün bir yarrağa verilebilecek en güzel isim olduğunu düşünüyorum. (Yine de en güzel deniz henüz gidilmemiş olandır.)

* Oldukça asabiyim, sinirlendim mi dişlerimi sıkı;p ellerimi çırpıyorum ve "orospu çocuğu ahmeeeeet çakar" isimli tezahüratı kendi içimde karşılıklı yaparak söylemeyi seviyorum (sesimi kısıhttp://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8451561/ Wed, 12 Apr 2006 17:46:35 PDT
"God, give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

Well, for one thing I am happy that I don't need (the) God, or any metaphysical divine agent, but I can surely do well with the other three in the list.

Yesterday, my father is diagnosed with cancer (liver cancer or HCC); details regarding its nature might seem pretty useless to share in a platform such as this one. However, maybe you know someone who might know something about it since part of the reason why I am writing this here is to make sure that I have tried every channel and means necessary to improve our chances.

Don't get me wrong; consider this as an open inquiry which begs for your sympathies and good wishes and all the similar things people somehow think of as inappropriate to ask for one's self from the others in such explicit fashion.

I don't see why needing and looking for or even shopping for others sympathies is considered inappropriate or wrong. How do human beings bar each other from being expressive about their desperation and the need for comfort is beyond me. So I am not going to justify it, I am not going to apologize or gloss over my hardwired needs from the others.

Maybe, it's that I don't have the right to bore you, jerk your into tears, push you to feel for the things you are happy to live without, or include you into the world of my own sorrows and miseries and etc so openly. Maybe it's inappropriate because that's not going to help me to get what I want. Maybe what I want now is something that I will regret later on. Maybe it attracts the wrong kind of attention, hollow sympathies, and all those. But what is the right kind of sympathy, how does one achieve it when there's a dire need for it? Is there a right conduct towards gaining others support or sympathies, one that is considered absolutely and relatively legitimate way to connecting with others? If so, I would like to know. If no way is agreed upon and it's true that I need sympathies, I will not apologize for it. I will not denounce it, I will not be stoic, and I will not be withholding myself in attempts to look dignified to those who already know.

I simply want to know what I can not ask from God, Allah, Zeus, Tooth Fairy and all those entities I have no belief in. Maybe some of you have some idea about the things we cannot change, and the other things that we can, and would like to let me know about the difference. Even if you don't know any one of those, at least tell me that you too don't know, and I shall know that I am not alone in my confusion.

Even if the confusion is all there is.

]]> ~otisagabey Anlaşılmıyorum, Dinleşilmiyoru http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8336928/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8336928/ Sat, 01 Apr 2006 19:24:28 PST
Bu süre zarfında gördüm ki sanatçı takımı yanlış anlaşılmaktan çok, "anlaşılamamaktan" şikayet ediyor. Oysa ki anlaşılmazlığı muhataba paslamak ne kadar salakça. Hemen özetleyeyim (zaten özet bir yazı olacak gibi başladı selamsız, sabahsız)

Bir kere anlaşılmaya yönelik beklentilerimiz muhatap ile sınırlıysa, muhatabı iyi seçmek "anlaşılmaz"ın sorumluluğunda değil midir? Kim anlaşılmayacağını bile bile, göre isteye ya da düşünmeden, tartmadan muhatap belirleyip sonra anlaşılamamaktan yakınabilir ki?

Anlaşılmak beklentisi ile kamuya arz edilen sanat eseri diye kürevi bir şey olabilir mi? Kamu dediğimiz şey eserin erişebildiği ve erişebileceğini var saydığımız sınırlı bir dünyada mahdud bir grup insan değil midir? O sınırlı grup insanın önce bir adını koy, muhatabını üç aşağı beş yukarı tanıyorsan "anlayışı" hakkında da fikir sahibi olacaksın. Kimi muhatap aldığını bilmeden yaptığın anlatılarda "anlaşılamamak" bile bile lades değil mi? Kongo'lunun, Arawak kabilesi mensubunun bu yazıyı okuyup anlayamaması beni germeli midir? Ben "herkes" anlasın diye mi yazıyorum, anlayacağını umduğum kişileri mi muhatap alıyorum. Bu biiir.

Muhtabın dışında senin sunum ve içeriğin ve dahi kimliğin ve yarattığın beklentiler de "anlaşılamamak" ile doğrudan ilişkili değil mi? Şunu kafana ko: sunum yaptığın kamu ve oyunun senden böyle bir talebi yok. Kimse senin sunum yapman için yalvarmıyorsa, sen sunum yapma sorumluluğunu kendine yüklüyorsan, "anlaşılır olmak" gibi bir beklentin olduğu sürece bu beklentiyi makul kılacak kadar niteliksel ve niceliksel girdi de bulunmalısın, ya da bulunmuş olmalısın. Bu ikiiii.

Eğer ki sunumun kendisini muhatabının anlayış, kavrayış ve beklentileri ile izah edilebilir kılıyorsa, muhataplarının anlamayışı, ibneliğine anlamamakta ısrar etmesi gibi bir ihtimal ortadan kalkmış oluyor. Nihayetinde "sanatçı" kimliğini dahi bu tip muhataplardan oluşan bir sosyal yapı içinde kazandığını da hatırlarsan (ki tek başına bir adada yaşayan birisi kime göre sanatçıdır? sorusunu düşünelim) seni var eden sosyal yapıyı muhatap olarak kabul edip, anlamayışlarını kuraldışı ilan etmek söz konusu olabilir mi? Yani söz hakkını haiz olmanın sebebi anlamayışını ihtimal dahilinde bulundurman gereken, ve anlayışına hitap ettiğin toplumun ta kendisi. Bu toplum içinde seni "anlamayan"lar ile "anlayanlar" arasında niteliksel ne gibi bir ayrım koyabilirsin ki? İşi niceliksel bir sidik yarışına mı götüreceğiz? Diyelim ki muhatap aldığımız toplumun yüzde 80 i bizi anlamadı, yüzde 20 si anladı. Burada istatistiki olarak "karar" noktamız ne oluyor? "73 kişi beni anlamadı, 12 kişi anladı"nın çıkarımı ne olmalı? Bunu söyleyemezken, ne kadar anlaşılmak istediğine dair bir somut çizgi çekememişken, anlaşılmamak adına rahatsızlığını ne ölçekte dile getiriyorsun? Gözünü kısı;p mı bakıyorsun ne ediyorsun? Bu 3.

Dahası anlatmak istediğin şeyin anlanması için önce dinlenmesi gerekli değil midir? Sen dinlenmeye değerliğini sadece anlattığının mecburi getirisi olduğuna mı inanıyorsun? Anlattığın şeyin öneminin anlattığın şeyin kendisindne ibaret olacağı, kişilerin "sen"i bu konuya hakimiyetini derecelendirebilecekleri fiillerle anmak isteyecekleri, bu fiillere yönelik faaliyetlerin ve varlığın ile ancak seni dinleyebilecekleri aklına gelmiyor mu? Sen "sen olduğun için" dinlenmeyi ve anlaşılmayı umuyorsan, sorum yine sana, sen en son kimi "o" olduğu için dinlemeye vakit ayırdın? Kimi sırf anlattıkları ile sabitleyip, anlamak için gayret gösterdin? Bu da kaçsa o işte. Yaz hanene. Bana tutturma rakamı.

Oysa ki sontahlilde kimse siklenmeyişini, ciddiye alınmayışını, yarım gönül dinlenişinin faturasını kendine kesmediği gibi anlaşılmayışını da anlamaya yönelik birikim ile değerlendirmiyor. Hep dinlemeyen kadir kıymet bilmez, anlamayan anlayışsız, duymayan sağır, görmeyen kör. Dinlenecek sözü olmayan, sözünü dinlettirecek özü olmayan adamlar, bilhassa ben, lafım size: önce anlattığınız konuda kayda değer birisi olun, sonra kaale alının, dinlenin, en nihayetinde anlaşılı;p anlaşılmamak değil, yanlış ya da doğru anlaşılmak derdiniz olsun.

Bugün bile hala ne zaman parmağımdaki o yaraya baksam içim sızlar. (bu da gönen de doğan birisinin gayrikabilirücu parmak sızlayışı, anlatmakla olmuyor, yaşamak lazÄ... ]]> ~otisagabey V for Vendetta W for Wachowskis http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8204001/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/8204001/ Sun, 19 Mar 2006 05:13:21 PST
Well, a little bit of blunder isn't it? "It was deliberate."

Their last piece of writing again proved me right in my initial observations based on the Matrix Trilogy alone. After all, how do you explain a full house of American audience wishing for the explosion of a landmark building which stands as a symbol of democracy, something that most of the crowd believed when they stepped inside the theatre but with a touch from these writers genius? Good films like everything else that is good in arts have the power to debase your assumptions and convictions.

I believe what made V for Vendetta a great film was the same reason why Oldboy was a good film, its power over the people's convictions which seem impossible to change, yet 90 minutes prove you otherwise. I will not spend any time on the trivialities whether English people eat eggs or not, or British Federal Express is possible or not. It's quite flabbergasting to see the creator of the idea being troubled by such inconsistencies that do not play any role in the main discourse of the film. I also do not care about the impossibly hard to execute plans V is able to pull off, I am still not American, I do not calculate the physics of events that happen on film frame as compared to those of reality as my criterion. I was not looking for the truth which would end up adding to the lies; I was looking for the crafty lies that were talking about the truth. And truth I have found, oh yes in deed.

I'd really dread the person who would question the intricacies of the method that is portrayed in V for Vendetta since it is not about a certain fail proof method, but it's about the universal principle as addressed by Sophocles in Antigone many centuries ago: Is the disobedience of law justifiable? Or maybe: do we have to follow unjust laws and rules even though we know them to be unjust, simply to be law abiding citizens?

Antigone's pretty much on the side of the civil disobedience, questioning the authority and its corollary, laws and challenges the laws as an individual on the grounds that they are proclaimed and made effective by another individual who has no divine say over the course of things. That other individual being the tyrant king of the state Antigone lives in posits a counterargument: "Even if the laws are questionable, is it wise or a good credit to the society to promote anarchy (the absence of rule) which is worse than the worse kind of rule?"

Sophocles, of course makes a better case, in which he does present a viable counter argument made by the tyrant. V for Vendetta on the other hand had to provide a convenient to hate Hitlerian type of tyrant whom we can easily despise and rule against to the extent of cheerleading the destruction of anything he touches. On the surface there's nothing profound in this decision of absolute dualities, V obviously being the charming revolutionary extraordinaire he is, makes a knife cut contrast with his despicable counter part. Yet what is profound is that, Wachowski brothers don't miss out that point, and even though the film pushes strongly on one side, it shows to those who are able to see that V is just the flipside of the tyrant, conjoined in such a way that, it's impossible to tell which one is which provided that you're on neutral grounds. There and then, the film does not have to remain ambiguous in its decision, since it's the power of people and their decisions we have to see not some French Film distance and lack of focus that blurs and diffuses the issue into a muddy gray. So the TV act we see within a lie that claims to tell the truth also shows a lie that tells another truth. And yes, all for those who are able to see and remember, all for those who can still act upon their better perception, that is anti climactic and anti catharsis.

But of course the film ends, like all the stories of dualities with a bang, not a whimper, in which we see the face that smiled for no reason finally has a reason to do so, and the face that smile, united follow the downfall of a symbol with the smiling masks which hide unbelieving and surprised face who do not know that they had the power to do so in the first place.

V puts it well: "The people should not be afraid of the governments, the governments should be afraid of its people."

Now let’s peek to the other side of the argument: The film of course tries to get a principle acr... ]]> ~otisagabey Kime halim diyeyim? Hah sana halim diyeyim bak. http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7890092/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7890092/ Tue, 14 Feb 2006 02:21:18 PST
Ä°hvanlar,

Bilemezsiniz ki ard arda iki elim kaza başıma geldi. Birincisi elimdeki tek ve yek lens anlaşılamayan bir şekilde kırıldı. Lenssizim, fotoğraf makinesizim. "Yıllar sonra yeniden mardin" ekola.

Yine bilemezsiniz ki 250 GB lık bir adet harddiskim yandı. Amına koyayım ukole.

Bunun üzerine tek mutluluğum 14 Şubat itibarıyle şu şarkıyı kahkahalarla, ama böyle kafamı arkaya atarak, omuzlarımı sallayarak, bir türlü aslını göremediğim Randevu Evi masalarının soliter maması Neriman Köksal makamından söyleyebiliyor oluşumdur.

Çoğul sevgililerin ikili günü dolayısıyla kabir azabı hediye bakımı, eğri yan gülüş ikram kabulü ritüellerinizde, mutluluğunuzda ve bıkkınlığınızda bir zamanlar kendinize sahip olduğunuz "o günler"i hatırlatması ümidiyle, "o günler"den bugünlerinize yolluyorum mesajımı. Buyur bak, sevgilisizler günü şarkısı. Ama sevgi dolu, dostane:

If you don't have a song to sing you're okay
you know how to get along humming
hmmm

If you don't have a date, celebrate!
Go out and sit on the lawn
and do nothing
'cause it's just what you must do,
nobody does it anymore.

No, I don't believe in the wasting of time,
But I don't believe that I'm wasting mine

If you don't have a point to make
don't sweat it
You'll make a sharp one being so kind
and I'd sure appreciate it
everyone else's goal's to get big headed
why should I follow that beat being that
I'm better than fine

Sevgilisi ve Günü ingilizce olmayanlara, ingilizce kutlayamayanlara şu şarkıyle selam ediyorum. Sağolasın Faize Ergin.

Kime halim diyeyim, kime feryâd edeyim?
Kime rüsvâ olayım, kime şekvâ edeyim?
Kime bu dağ-ı derunum kime ifham edeyim?
Gülerek gel güleyim, kendimi handân edeyim.

]]> ~otisagabey My MSN Days Are Over http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7625765/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7625765/ Mon, 16 Jan 2006 23:40:23 PST
For some time I was free of many addictions that obstructed and interfered with my life and my work. Sozluk was one of them (iyi de burayı neden ingilizce yazıyorum?), I got rid of it, I regained an average of 6 hours a day just like that.

At first I didn't know what to do with that 6 hours, but later I found things. Such as: I learned how to cook. I learned how to read things without having to write or retort to them (this one still kills me). I learned how to be tidy, better organized. And many more. So far so good.

Now for some time I've been wrestling with the idea of uninstalling my MSN. This was mostly out of question considering how miserably lonely I get when I don't have it. For the last 5 years I'm living abroad and ICQ and later MSN compensated for the lack of social life I have in here. It also contributed to it. So I virtually remained in Turkey, but physically endured being in US. It's sort of best of both worlds plan for me, if you consider how much I don't relate to Americans (I use American for the lack of better word for it. I generally despise people who have the means and the ways and still remain mindbogglingly stupid, ignorant. We have a great many of them in Turkey too, but America just provides more of these people to cancel out all the others.)

Yet after 5 years of IM'ing with Turks left me with very few friends and social life in here. Even the people I tend to speak to in US are Turks. So what gives? What's the point?

Of course that is only a part of why I am uninstalling MSN. The social part is the reason why I never dared to uninstall it. The reason why I *should* uninstall it owes to the fact that it simply blocks me from working.

I may be considered a very sociable person. And when I say sociable, I mean I am a chatterbox. I like talking. I like talking even when nobody listens. I like talking even when I'm not listening to what I'm talking about. It's just a character trait. So imagine my situation when MSN offers me a great deal of people to interact with. Too much talk, not enough work.

So, there again, I said it. No more MSN. No more IM.

I am reverting back to the ways of the old. I am switching to emailing (mass and personal), blogging and other things that does have few "enter"s and more "."s in it.

That's what I should do, that's what I have just done.

So y'all, contact me thru email from now on. That's the only way I will respond to you.

***

By the way, I bought a new Digital Rebel XT. And yes, I have been to the Death Valley here in beautiful California. And Mojave desert. So I have some pictures.

Once I'm ready, I will flood the madafaka like I mean business!

Oh yes, the thrill!

Glory!

]]> ~otisagabey The Song for the New Year http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7462894/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7462894/ Sat, 31 Dec 2005 03:22:08 PST
Your Heart Is An Empty Room
---

Burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground
And start new when your heart is an empty room
With walls of the deepest blue

Home's face: how it ages when you're away
Spring blooms and you find the love that's true
But you don't know what now to do
Cause the chase is all you know
And she stopped running months ago

And all you see
Is where else you could be
When you're at home
Out on the street
Are so many possibilities
To not be alone

The flames and smoke climbed out of every window
And disappeared with everything that you held dear
And you shed not a single tear for the things that you didn't need
'Cause you knew you were finally free

'Cause all you see is where else you could be when you're at home
Out on the street are so many possibilities to not be alone

And all you see is where else you could be
When you're at home
There on the street are so many possibilities to not be alone

----

Afferin, aynı ben.

***

Happy New Year to all. If it makes you happy, and it makes me happy too, even happier new years.

]]> ~otisagabey Years Don't Get Old, People Do http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7436245/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7436245/ Wed, 28 Dec 2005 00:36:56 PST

***

After 6 years of procrastination and fear I finally started writing what I have always wanted to write: a novel. Well, there, I said it. Now you know it, and I can not take it back. I finished *the* outline yesterday, which sort of gives you the frame of reference and the rush of confidence. However I'm not sure if writers swear by their initial outlines. Only this, mine took 6 years to write, so I prophesied: it shall be pretty much solid.

***

Right after the Christmas party (which was uneventful, and I didn't make a clown out myself), I called Murat (who recently joined the unemployment club) to hang out. Not really knowing how it's like during the Christmas Eve we went to Santa Monica to "party". Well, not a single soul was walking on the streets. We had hard time finding a bar that served, and even that being the only open bar in LA county, was deserted.

We quietly drank Hefeweisen on tap and watched a John Cusack film (Better of Death which was somehow an aptonym) that was reeking of 80s. Projected on a big screen behind the bar, it provided enough crowd for everyone, and for a moment we thought about how it would be to go back and live 80s all over again.

Eventually we moved on to bar sports. We played Air Hockey, and Murat successfully injured me by throwing the whatchamacallit on my wrist to stop beating him senseless. That I believe instantly became the only sports injury caused by another player in Air Hockey.

Then we felt like talking over some snack, and drove off to Westwood where we witnessed a murder victim carried off from a Hookah Bar in Westwood. But in LA it is only eventual, not worthy of our while to write about shootings and murders here.

What was worthy of mentioning of course was the way a waitress acted when we asked her about the incident. To our surprise this woman, only because she was on the other side of the yellow police line, and standing within the proximity of legal authority instantly became an authority and addressed us with the Royal "We"

i.e. "We have taken care of the situation, it is under control, We have closed the road and the bar. The person in question is under our attention, and he will be okay. Thank you, you may come back tomorrow."

Everyone knows about the phenomenon called "reflected glory". It can be observed on wives of soccer players, siblings of successful people. Yet I did not know that such a thing called "reflected authority" existed up until then. If only we pulled her close to us an inch more, she will be excited and clueless just like we were. But since she was standing by the officer, she became the voice of authority.

Human beings, such marvellous creatures.

---

The Christmas is over, and LA slowly gets back to normal. There's nothing really happening for the new year for me this year. I'm so used to celebrating New Years in Turkey that I can not really think of anything to do here. These things we call holidays, they're collective things: you can not solely enjoy them by yourself and you are always haunted by the mood and setting of past holidays.

So the word of advice is, enjoy the New Year celebration in Turkey, and drop me a line, so I can get a whiff of it.

---

Well, it rained last night. It is news.

The Poem Of The Day:

Last night
she
came
livid,
night blue,
wine-red
the tempest
with her
hair of water,
eyes of cold fire -
last night she wanted
to sleep on earth,
She came all of a sudden
newly unleashed
out of her furious planet,
her cavern in the sky;
she longed for sleep
and made her bed:
sweeping jungles and highways,
sweeping mountains,
washing ocean stones,
and then
as if they were feathers,
ravaging pine trees
to make her bed.
She shook the lightning
from her quiver of fire,
dropped thunderclaps
like great barrels.
All of a sudden
there was silence
a single leaf
gliding on air
like a flying violin -
then,
before it touched the earth,
you took it
in your hands, great storm
put all the winds to work
blowing their horns,
set the whole night
galloping with its horses
all the ice whistling,
the wild
trees
groaning in misery
like prisoners,
the earth
moaning, a woman
giving birth,
in a single blow
you blotted out
the noise of grass
or stars,
tore
the numbed silence
like a handker... ]]> ~otisagabey Fun Times With Yahoo Answers http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7387456/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7387456/ Thu, 22 Dec 2005 23:10:39 PST
I got into the habit of answering people's questions in Yahoo Answers. ([link]). It's fun, it's free, and it's something I've been meaning to do all my life. It's just taking some time now, but eventually I will get bored of it. Below is an example of one of the questions I asked, you can also follow the "otisabi" icon for the other questions and answers.

[link]

So what's new.

I moved into my new apartment in West Hollywood. (It's almost Beverly Hills. People here in LA have a strange compulsion to have 90210 zip code. So I've been asked couple of times if it is indeed 90210, and I said I'm within throwing rock distance.)

Anyhow, it's nothing to brag about: the locale is way off and beyond my style and standards, I feel like I'm just a tourist in this neighborhood. But eventually life is full of surprises, and you find good deals. When you do, don't miss them. After 3 months of apartment hunting I didn't miss mine.

----

A week ago today I was in Joshua Tree National Park. It's this place on the border of two desert systems, high and low, Mojave and Colorado correcspondingly. My first time ever in the desert I expected to see something that is completely -off-. Not really.

A great deal of the landscape around the National Park looked a lot like Turkey (for those who know: the road from Afyon to Burdur looks a lot like the Californian desert. With one exception they call the desert with its proper name in here. In Turkey we call it Bozkır. Euphemisms.)

However the Park itself, along with the desert is wonderful. The rocks, the serenity, the sunset, how the moon rises and all those poetical stuff I feel not so compelled to write now. I have to do justice to beauty, it takes time to write about it. So I leave it to the poem below.

----

After 5 years, I will eventually attend the first Christmas party in USA in two days. I have no idea how to behave in such an occasion, but somehow I will learn. If someone knows anything about it be sure to let me know.

So the year, probably the most eventful year of my life, is coming to an end. I still have no camera, still have to buy a new computer (preferably a G5 to start editing freelance), still have to find my feet in this town.

The weather, of course, is nice.

And somehow I feel, things are looking good.

Isn't that all that matters?

----

On Beauty:

No, we cannot itemize the list
of sins they can't forgive us.
The beautiful don't lack the wound.
It's always beginning to snow.

Of sins they can't forgive us
speech is beautifully useless.
It is always beginning to snow.
The beautiful knows this.

Speech is beautifully useless.
They are the damned.
The beautiful know this.
They stand around unnatural as statuary.

They are the damned
and so their sadness is perfect,
delicate as an egg placed in your palm.
Hard, it is decorated with their face

and so their sadness is perfect.
The beautiful don't lack the wound.
Hard, it is decorated with their face.
No, we can not itemize the list. ]]> ~otisagabey Devious Journal Entry http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7297340/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7297340/ Tue, 13 Dec 2005 01:14:33 PST
There has been an undeniable trend in the music industry for the last few decades which was insistent and irritating, a trend which favored the so called good looking people over the likes of the majority which looked like you and me. I even remember The Rolling Stone magazine making faux ads that asked the question: "where has all the guitar wielding average joes has gone?"

The Beatles was made of really average looking four, so was the ROlling Stones. I think in a way this made them special in a way you can relate to them. So excuse my surprise when I saw the fab four of the band Death Cab for Cutie all plain looking, even somewhat below the average.

However all the more I related to them more than the others, for that reason alone. It takes an average joe to tell the feelings of an average joe to himself.

Check them out, they're really good, in a "I knew them since third grade" kind of way.

]]> ~otisagabey But Perfect http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7207781/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/7207781/ Fri, 02 Dec 2005 21:59:43 PST
"I think we all agree that the past is over." George W. Bush

Pasadena with all of its non-wonders and semi glory is lying flat on it back, watching the lonely clouds pass, scattered in the skies too few and too far in between. Who could have known, certainly not I, that this wonderful weather forever insistent and somehow ever so surprising may eventually become the only thing I hold precious in my "new life"?

I've grown tired of looking for a place to stay. Freud later on in his life got obsessed with his half baked theory about one "death drive". In a nutshell: we are all so sick and tired of the constant strain of being and living that we secretly desire and wish for our own end. I find that akin to my current situation, this drag US people call apartment shopping has taken its toll and I no longer want to live somewhere, but I simply want to be relieved of my current misery. But then, A Turk looking for a place in LA, getting sick of looking for apartment hunting is no tear jerker. Actually now that I think about it, it's even downright snobbish of me to complain about such a silly "trouble". At least that's what I deeply felt today while listening to the radio.

The radio, it seems, is the quintessential one way communication of Los Angeles (for that matter it could be the same thing for the rest of US). Us New Yorkers (yes I still feel that way, thank you) hardly ever get in contact with the radio. We have Ipod zombies and hordes of subway readers of all sorts and sizes, but no serious radio listeners other than that unfortunate few who have to endure the tortures of driving cars in the city of mass transit and poorly maintained roads.

However in LA you're evolved in such a way that you are hardwired to your car. One eventually becomes a hardcore radio listener: knowing which show follows which, what channel is what. Although once an avid radio listener (back when I was 6 and had no TV at home, we used to listen to radio shows of TRT all through the day. Many of my American friends find this an implausible story since they are hardwired to TVs through birth, where as TV in early 80s was a rare commodity in Turkey's middle class.)

In my brief search through the available channels I was flabbergasted by the amount of diversity and political voice available in the California radios. KPFK, one Southern California radio based in LA is even as radical (and sensible) enough to have a show named "Radio Intifada", utterly unthinkable and beyond my wildest dreams after my 5 years of cumulative judgement of US. But US, you know, is always full of surprises. Mostly bad, sometimes good.

Other than KPFK, NPR (National Public Radio) is mind-bogglingly good, selective and informative in its programming, which eventually led me to write this journal that I took so long to say. While I was returning from my long day of apartment shopping, full of self pity and all those things that I thought I was entitled to feel I heard the story of Cambodian Textile workers.

The reader here suspiciously full of middle class values might feel the tingling sensation, the petite bourgeois spider senses alarming him/her of the usual story of "those people far away suffering senselessly due to their lifestyles", by all rights please feel free to be alarmed. For it is one of those stories, and I for the sake of originality will not add a new twist to the age old story. And I will not deny that knowing that some people far away have greater problems, something that they can freely and without reservations can call a struggle makes me feel better about mine (not to be confused with schadenfreude). I also will not try to hide the fact that people earning 40 dollars a month adds to the "15 minutes of sadness obligation" that is inherent to the "sensible" lifestyles of people such as ourselves. It makes us good about ourselves that we know that we can care in a way that it makes sense. How wonderful we feel when we rant about those who spend their lives away working in sweatshops, or waaaay less than normal conditions to earn a living. How fulfilled we are when we return back to our oldselves, knowing that we made a difference. A difference that can be measured in 15 minutes of knit eye brows, and blurred vision. A sad face that we wear seems like a better mask than the one that says "well, they too have to work, don't they?".

Cambodian workers produce the 20 percent of the pajamas worn and used in US today. And you can not even see them in your dreams. And when you hear about them, for a brief moment, driving from A to B. They give you comfort.

So they also manufacture a decent percent of the comforters too, right?

]]> ~otisagabey Well, here I am not so depressed anymore http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/6833199/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/6833199/ Sat, 22 Oct 2005 01:50:44 PDT
Well, openly, I still miss New York. BUT, and, HOWEVER, I am not that bad in here. Sure it's boring. Sure, there's nobody on the street, and no usual places that I can decide to go and hang out there and then. But, a new place is still a new place. You can't take away the "new" from it. And eventually the excitement. Yeah, that too.

Having settled most of the issues with the car and the accomodations in here (which took me quite a while longer that I anticipated) I am -almost- ready to roll. Yet, roll to where?

That seem sto be the question at the moment. The magazine is going great. Not GREAT! great, but you know what I mean. It's a rare privledge given unto us: the "lucky ones" who were there to grab it while no one was looking (like Terry Pratchett says when he describes how he came up with the idea of Discworld) I think we're starting to make something out ot the nothing that was lying out there, waiting to be snatched from the oblivion.

Too much abstraction for you? Good. Nothin bad comes from abstraction, unless you call for it.

God, it feels good to be alive. (I'm sorry you're dead. Or so says the Saxon philosopher with eminent moustache.)

I still wonder. I guess that makes me a strong person. Whatever that is. ]]> ~otisagabey Leaving New York for Los Anjelos http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/6540682/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/6540682/ Sun, 18 Sep 2005 20:20:54 PDT
Well yes, no need to repeat it over and over. I am leaving for Los Anjelos, Hollywood this Friday for the sake of my film career. What am I leaving behind?

The city I love most, and above all. The cityy that proved to me and the whole world once and for all that it -is- possible to live together being nothing else but citizens of a city. The city that shook me senseless, the city that has always treated me well, whether cold or hot, broke or rich New York always returned my inimitable, genuine, bottomless love for her.

However ugly and remote, however distant and isolated its people might be New York was the city that elevated above its people and population, ended up being the utopic city that is very much alive and real.

Now who could deny you your kudos? Who in the right frame of mind can turn you down for any other city? Istanbul? Perhaps. The memory of Istanbul is ever strong, Istanbul afterall is the city I wasn born into. But Istanbul in this analogy is my mother, she is the object of my Freudian Oedipus complexç No one should be forced to live with her mother. No one should be expected to remain forever loyal and connected to his mother.

So here it is, whether you like it or not, New York is and was and in my memory it will forever will be the girl that I love for it reminded me of my mother but completely different, altogether new, forever full of surprises. One's mother is for comfort and care, New York was here for the passion and the flame of a love meant for life.

Now I am leaving New York what could possibly be there to woo me? What could one possibly say?

From now on there is no darkness, there is perpetual gray.

]]> ~otisagabey Just came back from Los Angeles http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/5872642/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/5872642/ Thu, 07 Jul 2005 23:44:58 PDT
I was away for a while for a brief visit to Los Angeles the city claimed by Angels. Yet it looked like it's more the City of Ralph's or Joe's (to those that don't know these are the dominant supermarket franchise in L.A).

It was nice. A little too disconnected for my New York and Istanbul upbringing. Yet I felt very much welcome by the warmth of people. People with big smiles upon their faces. People who are not reluctant to look in your eyes when they talk. Quite opposite of what we have here in New York, where we "keep it real". Meaning: we're isolated, disconnected and hate everybody else.

Los Angeles in a way provides you with a sense of artificial paradise. The sense of isolation somehow makes people closer to each other. But when you are too close, you realize that you don't want to be too close with people all the time. Like we have in New York.

Anyhow, I still prefer fake smiles, to real frowns. Call me gullible.

Summer seems to be pretty slow here in DA. I wonder where you guys are. Anyone?

Otis ]]> ~otisagabey Digital Rebel XT http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/5562071/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/5562071/ Sun, 05 Jun 2005 15:56:32 PDT
Finally we swapped our old rebel with the new one. I am very impressed by the performance of this new Rebel. Seems to be the best choice so far for the price (imho: easily defeating D70 on the grounds that matter most to me). We also got a new wide angle lens. So be on the lookout for the new rebel i case you're interested.

Turkcesi: Hayirlara vesile olsun diyecegim ama makine bu yaz boyu bende kalmayacak, :cheja: umuyorum ki layiginca kullanacaktir. ]]> ~otisagabey Thesis Ends http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/5163526/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/5163526/ Sat, 23 Apr 2005 01:19:25 PDT
So right now I am back in the DA, I erased all my comments-messages history, ready to rock and roll, and all the usual stock metaphors.

By the way, that monitor I got. I dumped it. ]]> ~otisagabey Yet Another New Monitor http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3904189/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3904189/ Tue, 23 Nov 2004 19:44:23 PST
1. It's a MAC monitor. So it means it kicks ass brutally and non-stop.
2. I found it lying on the sidewalk.

Could it get any better than this? Yes. But this is as good as it gets, it brings me enough joy to hold onto for a long while.

I'd like to thank my fellow NYC citizen who so benevolently trashed a completely operable quality monitor for my pleasure. Thank you, I love you, I love New York, the city that pumps the best stuff on the streets.

p.s. I've been unable to reply to most of your messages for some time now. I'd like to apologize for that. I hope I will make it up to you. ]]> ~otisagabey A New Monitor, An Old Monitor http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3531169/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3531169/ Wed, 06 Oct 2004 23:44:48 PDT
The good side: Pretty good colors, definition and more workspace. Real eye candy.

The Bad Side: I almost had hernia along with the monitor. It was so fucking heavy like all the high quality monitor from 90s. Plus, I had the chance to view my old stuff on this monitor, to my disappointment I found the colors very raw, idiotic dodge burn mistakes here and there. It was sheer depression to see how much distortion can one monitor bring. So, I am not going to scrap my previous work, but I will try to repair them in time.

Summary:

1. Never miss a genuine opportunity.
2. Never use crappy monitors.
3. Never say never, just say home. ]]> ~otisagabey Yuuz yor iluyjins http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3351479/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3351479/ Sun, 12 Sep 2004 22:58:00 PDT
Bu journal entrysini niye yazdim, cunku evvel ki orada yapisti kaldi. Sevmedim, yenilik istedim. Ayrica Turgan kardesimin fuji finepix'ini de kullandim. Amma cok yavas buldum. Tir tir tir iki saat record ediyor fotograf cektikten sonra. O an anladim ki Digital Rebel gibisi yok imis. O an anladim ki zugurt tesellisi gibisi yok imis.

In english: Do any one of you guys really read my journals? Seriously. ]]> ~otisagabey Kiskaniyorum! http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3112626/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/3112626/ Fri, 13 Aug 2004 00:15:01 PDT
Ama bu cumartesi sabahi Turgan ile erkenden fotograf cekmeye cikiyoruz 4 5 gibi (gavur bu saatlere magic hour diyor, sebebi su cok laga luga yok, sakin. Isik acili geliyor, yumusak oluyor. Renkler sey. oyle iste, magic!) . Yani kisa zamanda New York serisi ile geliyorum, haberdar etmek istedim sizleri.

Ya bi de boyle proud member of kil, super ortam of yun diye resimler, bocekler, parildayan janjanli seyler koyuyorsunuz. Nasil ediyorsunuz? Bunu da bana deyiverin?

Ben de yazmak istiyorum proud member, arkadaslarim dostlarim listesi.

proud member of: eee o. ]]> ~otisagabey Yes! Finally New Lens For the Digital Rebel http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/2791159/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/2791159/ Fri, 02 Jul 2004 21:20:26 PDT
To all those Digital Rebel users out there who think they can get along with the kit lens for some time. Don't. Remove it and toss it against a brick wall. That's what they are good for. Either but it with a proper lens, or don't buy it at all.

Turkcesi:

Butun bu soylediklerime ragmen Kit Lens kullanan, otis hakli ama lensimi kiramam, idare edeyim diyen godostur, gotostur nazarimda. Okuz evladi, bir az bekle ilk gunden cektiklerimi gor gotun dusecek, secde edecek, rukuya varacaksin diyorum. Baska ne diyeyim sana? ]]> ~otisagabey Su Sayfanin Basindaki Heriften Nasil Igreniyorum http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/2361840/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/2361840/ Tue, 04 May 2004 21:07:03 PDT
Ingilizcesi:

Very good. ]]> ~otisagabey Spring is Here http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/2108501/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/2108501/ Mon, 29 Mar 2004 12:14:33 PST ~otisagabey New Year Resolutions http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/1607600/ http://otisagabey.deviantart.com/journal/1607600/ Wed, 31 Dec 2003 08:39:30 PST ~otisagabey