count to 9

when life seems overwhelming, when you have to leave your bed in the morning, when getting out of the warm shower to step on the cold outside or when you have to say goodbye; just count to 9 and do it. i know it's easier like that. i know 9 seconds is not so short after all...

rob

once a man told me that there are three things in this world. i couldn't understand it at the time and i was too young to care. there's no chance that you could guess who this man was and to be honest, it isn't very important at this particular moment that you are wasting reading this. 

years later when i remembered this incident, i was eager to find the meaning. what did he mean? was he talking about the trinity bullshit? he wasn't a religious person as far as i could remember. and where the hell was he anyway? all that i could recall from those racing seconds seemed just like a dream. did i dream our meeting? i remembered shaking his hand and i knew it was real. 

so what were these three things? it was eating my mind bit by bit and starting to turn into an unbearable headache. i was staring at my notebook in front of me. it was one of those "cool" ones. like the ones writers or artists used to capture their ideas when they appeared in their heads. the ones they always carried with them. like small, round cornered. not that i was any of these but i just had it. it was a present as far as i could remember. hard black cover, white pages... and it stroke me at that moment. 

black and white. everything seemed just like that. i never cared to realize it, all these time. why just black and white? why not something in between? why not a third option? why no gray? well, i could put the gray and voila! i would have my three things. 

with this new found piece of mind, and the peace that was flowing into my veins that i was finally able to understand what he meant; i leaned back and took a sip from my glass. i could finally return to not doing or thinking anything at all.

the beginning of all things to end - part I

"have you ever regretted anything?" he asked me as we sat there and sipped our half-way beers. "don't worry, there are plenty of them. no need for baby sips, eh?"

"i know, i know." i replied. "just taking it slow tonight. you know?"

"yeah, whatever. as long as you keep going, it's fine." he was constantly staring at the clock on the wall, like he was supposed to go somewhere. i knew this man for so long that i couldn't care to remember. and i was sure as hell that he wasn't going anywhere. it just seemed like, i mean always, he had some sort of problem with the concept of time. i could care less.

his dog was sleeping on the ancient carpet. where the fuck did he get all these stuff? i always thought about it. well, i did when he stared at the damn clock. the woods from the fireplace kept cracking and the room was amiably warm. i could almost call it peaceful. the dog was making faint sounds and i bet he was the happiest being in the room. funny thing envying a dog. actually everything was some sort of a fun at that moment, considering we were both fucked up big time. i'll come to that later.

"are you waiting for someone?" i asked after a moment of silence. "what? no." he replied as he seemed like his thoughts stopped wandering and came back inside his head. "for whom the fuck can i be waiting for?" he asked. i could see the suspense, and the childish anger in his eyes. "besides i asked you a fucking question, isn't it a bit bitchy asking another one before replying?"

"what question?" i spoke before thinking. i didn't like that feeling when people realized that i haven't actually been concentrating on them as we spoke. "sorry. my mind just went somewhere." i added.

"i asked if you have ever regretted something." he finished his beer. and stood up to get another one. "you want anything?" he asked unwillingly. but i knew it perfectly that he would prepare me a full plate meal if i asked for it, at that moment. i said "no thanks, i'm fine." then i added, "well maybe you can grab one for me as well, i'm about to finish mine too."

the dog woke up as he walked in the room. god, i never got to remember his name. why wouldn't people just name their dogs like jack or john or whatever. i always called him my boy, and i'm sure he didn't give the tiniest shit if i remembered his name or not. he liked me and i liked him. it was as simple as that. well, not considering the fact that i actually envied him. dogs won't know envy, right? whatever.

"of course i regretted somethings." i said. "why did you think of it now?" he stood there as he opened the bottles and gave me that mocking look. "i'm not talking about that you regret choosing masturbation over playstation man, i'm talking about something important. something big." his eyes shone as if he just remembered one of his own regrets. "i know what you mean, and my answer is still a yes." i replied as if i was clarifying something to a child.

"could you elaborate? dude. i mean, this night won't pass like this. you know." he seemed so eager to know about my regrets. and i thought, "how come he doesn't know what i regret?". and after some more thought jumps i concluded that i didn't know any of his.

"well..." was the first word to spill from my lips. "the biggest regret of my life... i let my love go."

"oh come on!" he seemed unsatisfied. "that's from a fucking movie, man. you're really full of shit, aren't you?" he spat some beer from his mouth as his wide opened eyes stared away from me. the exact second that the dog stood up and started barking like a fucking full moon wolf. and that was when i saw the shadow beneath the door as it opened slowly with a squeaky sound.
-
part II is out! read it here.

horcrux

have you ever read or watched harry potter? if not, there's this guy i would like to call voldy and voldy tears his soul apart and puts those parts into various objects so he can't die. but it fucks him up very bad and he eventually dies in the end. well, talk about a spoiler. sorry. but our point is not that. those objects are called horcruxes, the parts of one's soul. and this particular blog is not actually about a horcrux but it's about a flag. a blue and white flag.

tonight i suddenly got the feeling that this story actually happens in our lives. well at least in mine. not exactly tearing the soul apart but giving a lot of meaning to an object. a lot of memories. and at the times you look at it, you see so much that no one else can know and you remember so much. it becomes a part of you. it holds a part of you. 

but maybe it's stupid to get attached to some writings on some flags, t-shirts, notebooks etc. because that time is gone. like pink floyd would say; "i turned to look but it was gone / i cannot put my finger on it now / the child is grown, the dream is gone" so maybe it's better not to keep them close, just like voldy did, and to be comfortable by just knowing that they exist somewhere and they keep you safe. 

i guess this is the most bullshit thing i've ever written. but well, at least both of them are british. i mean, rowling and waters. 

not a welcome

a sunday afternoon. sitting on your ikea chair and trying to hit the keys in a language that isn't yours. you me. you could understand that much. and the moment i started typing, the feeling of writing just flew to a further land. probably a southern land.

blogging is like smoking i suppose. you start at a younger age thinking you're doing something cool when no one actually gives a shit. and during the years, you try to quit, you get back. and finally when you're older, you keep doing it but this time knowing what you're doing. you don't do it to poke someones eye or for glory. you just keep doing it, and no one still gives a shit.

if i must keep it simple, i am nobody. just some letters on the internet. letters that hardly form a sentence and almost never a meaning. i did this thing for quite a time, in my own language and it wasn't any less shittier than this. now it feels like it's time to try something new and waste a beautiful sunday, seeing many beautiful things in my life got wasted. i have no idea if i will write something more, or if someone will actually read it. maybe i'll redo this "not a welcome" thing. maybe i'll just give up writing, like i did countless times. time will show. time... time. let's call it a draft this time.