22 Nisan 2015 Çarşamba

Üstünde Çok Durmayan Adam




Hayatı anlamıyor olduğuma dair isyanım, herşeyin anlaşılabilir olduğu inancının bir meyvesiydi aslında. Kendime dürüst olabildiğim kadar zihnimi zorluyordum. İsyanımın hayatın sadece benim hayatımmış gibi bilindik, bir yasa gibi genel geçer bir anlamı olması gereken ve rasyonel olarak herşeyi açıklayabileceğim bir şeymiş gibi düşündüğüm için kendime olduğunu içten içe hissediyordum.

Çoğu zaman garip atfettiğim düşüncelerimi daha önce geçtiğim sokağın ikinci kez karşıma çıkmasıyla hissettiğim nostaljiye benzetiyorum. Garipler adlı şiir akımını başlatan edebiyatçılarımızın gerçekten garip mi yoksa garip mi olduğunu bilememek gibi paradoksal.

Hayatın anlamına ve paradokslara daha fazla dikkat edemeyeceğimi, yavaş yavaş dikkatimin dağıldığını anladığımda gözüm evimin dokuzgen sarayın kenar duvarlarından birine bakan balkonunun tam altından geçen siyah pardüseli bir teyzeye takıldı. Aceleyle bir yere gidiyormuş olduğunu sadece hızlı yürümesinden değil yürürken ıssız sokakta adımlarının yarattığı yankının seriliğinden de anlamıştım.      

Saray duvarları herzamanki gibi haşmetli, saray duvarının yanından geçen sokak ıssız, balkonda tek başına oturan ben  düşünceliydim. Kararmaya yüz tutmuş sokak lambalarından biri belli belirsiz göz kırparak yanıp sönüyordu. Siyah pardüseli teyzenin gözden kaybolduğu noktada gri sis havayı soğutuyordu.

Yatmalıydım. Fakat soğuk ve ıslak saray duvarına bakan bu sokakta gecenin bu kadar geç bir vaktinde ayakta olup, hayatın anlamını kendine bu kadar dert edinmiş başka kimse var mıdır diye de merak etmiyor değildim. Filozofların takındığı kuşkucu ve kaygılı bir tavırdan ziyade yarın iş yerinde karşılaşacağım tonlarca anlamsız şey beni anlamı sorgulamaya itiyordu.

Balkondan içeri girdiğimde sokağın sessiz uğultusuyla birlikte kafamın içindeki gürültü de son buldu. Çok yakından tanıdık bir tablo vardı karşımda. Yatağım, baş ucu çekmemin üstündeki çalar saatim ve birkaç kitap. Uyku, vakit ve hikaye. Hangisine daha özel davrandığımı hatırlamıyorum. Hikaye okurken vakiti iyice geçirip uyumuşum. Ama sabah vaktiyle kalktığımı hatırlıyordum.

2 Şubat 2015 Pazartesi

37 Yaşına Bastığın O Gün



"Yirmi yıl sonra otuz yedi yaşına bastığın o günlerde dünyadaki bütün kötülüklerin, yani yoksulların bu kadar yoksul ve akılsız olmalarının ve zenginlerin bu kadar zengin ve akıllı olmalarının, kabalığın, şiddetin ve ruhsuzluğun, yani sende ölme isteği ve suçluluk duyguları uyandıran herşeyin nedeninin herkesin herkes gibi düşünmesi olduğunu en sonunda anlamış olacaksın," dedi. "Bu yüzden herkesin ahlaklı gözükerek aptallaştığı ve öldüğü bu yerde, sen ancak kötü ve ahlaksız olarak iyi olunabileceğini seziyorsun. Ama bunun da korkunç bir sonucu olacağını anlıyorsun" (Kar, O. Pamuk s.147)

16 Aralık 2014 Salı

A Storm on The Lake



"There's a hole in the side of the boat. That hole is never going to be fixed and it's never going away and you can't get a new boat. This is your boat. What you have to do is bail water out faster than it's coming in." (TNR)

4 Aralık 2014 Perşembe

Broken Man



"Ser? My lady?" said Potrick. "Is a broken man an outlaw?"

"More or less," Brienne answered.

Septon Meribald disagreed. "More less than more. There are many sorts of outlaws, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go outside the law to fight some wicked lord, but most outlaws are more like this ravening Hound than they are the lightning lord. They are evil men, driven by greed, soured by malice, despising the gods and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been more than a mile from the house where they were born until the day some lord came round to take them off to war. Poorly shod and poorly clad, they march away beneath his banners, ofttimes with no better arms than a sickle or sharpened hoe, or a maul they made themselves by lashing a stone to a stick with strips of hide. Brothers march with brothers, sons with fathers, friends with friends. They've heard the songs and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will see, of the wealth and glory they will win. War seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.

"Then they get a taste of battle.

"For some, that one taste is enough to break them. Others go on for years, until they lose count of all the battles they have fought in, but even a man who has survived a hundred fights can break in his hundred-and-first. Brothers watch their brothers die, fathers lose their sons, friends see their friends trying to hold their entrails in after they they've been gutted by an axe.

"They see the lord who led them there cut down and some other lord shouts that they are his now. They take a wound, and when that's still half-healed they take another. There is never enough to eat, their shoes fall to pieces from the marching, their clothes are torn and rotting and half of them are shitting in their breeches from drinking bad water.

"If they want new boots or a warmer cloak or may be rusted iron halfhelm, they need to take them from a corpse, and before long they are stealing form the living too, from the small-folk whose lands they are fighting in, men very like the men they used to be. They slaughter their sheep and steal their chickens, and from there it's just a short step to carrying off their daughters too. And one day they look around and realize all their friends and kin are gone, that they are fighting beside strangers beneath a banner that they hardly recognise. They don't know where they are how to get back home and the lord they're fighting for does not know their names, yet here he comes, shouting for them to form up, to make a line with their spears and scythes and sharpened hoes, to stand their ground. And the knights come down on them, faceless men clad all in steel and the iron thunder of their charge seems to fill the world...

"And the man breaks.

"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them... but he should pity them as well."

"A Song of Ice and Fire; A Feast For Crows" by George R.R. Martin

1 Aralık 2014 Pazartesi

To all the pirates who are after the One Piece...


Let's go, Shining! Running! Forever
Keep on advancing
The unchanging bond will light up the "end of the dream"
Wake up heart beat
We are the one! Go ahead!
Freedom is our only compass, We are best friends
We will keep making our own route
Go east, Go west
Running at full speed everyday, Go east, Go west!
We keep finding the things we want to do and doing them all
We can't wait until the morning
Why not drag the sun out into the sky
go-in Go
Force it and go
Yes, Shining! Running! Forever
Put the pieces of our dreams together
and if that makes you feel something - that's the treasure
Keep on advancing
The unchanging bond will light up the "end of the dream"
Wake up heart beat! We are the one! Go ahead!
Get dragged into darkness,
Every time we overcome something,
it stirs possibility
Tomorrow and the day after,
there will be a chain of burning, intense excitement!
Yes, Shining! Running! Forever
Go along with your curiosity
and go wherever you want to go - that's the adventure
Let's go, Shining! Running! Forever
Open up the sailing chart in your heart
The bond with potential power will seize the "end of the dream"
Never Stop it!
We are the one! Go ahead!

27 Ağustos 2014 Çarşamba

C'est un petit pas pour l'homme mais un grand pas pour l'humanité.


Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.
-L.Frank Baum

I can't feel any ground beneath my feet. Irresistible anxiety is a friend for a very long time. What to do is not a relevant question anymore. Just doing without any additional thought is more relaxing. Only sometimes plans work. It's like a frequent punch in the face. I do cover myself but the point is I don't know who I am anymore therefore who to cover...

What I know is I'm taking a big step without any further warning and basically nothing for humanity yet a lot for me...

2 Haziran 2014 Pazartesi

oNce uPon A time Twice uPon miNe

Gerekirse yeni güne de başlarız.

Eskimi ne sikimse vurun kellesini!

18 Ocak 2014 Cumartesi

The Rains of Castamere

And who are you,the proud lord said

that I must bow so low?

only a cat of a different coat

that's all the truth I know

in a coat of gold or a coat of red

a lion still has claws

and mine are long and sharp, My Lord

as long and sharp as yours

and so he spoke, and so he spoke

that Lord of Castamere

but now the rains weep o'ver his hall

with no one there to hear