I'm a writer

There is a funny thing about writing. Sandor Weores, arguably one of the greatest 20th century Hungarian writers, said:

"There are only two professions that can be done without any practice: one is poetry and prose, and the other is politics."

These days I'm not willing to accept any kind of advice. Whatever people say around me I just try to pretend as if nothing happened. But this one right here has just penetrated the fragile resiliance built by my pride and ego. Just think about it! Even if you are a little emotional, you turn to writing. No, you don't have a friend there to listen, let's say your relatives aren't there to help. You didn't learn to play any instrument so that's not a choice either; you can't find peace nor the answer in nature. No, you got to stay on your ass and fix your tiny little broken heart as fast as you can. So grab your pen, your keyboard, typewriter or anything that can leave a trace! And write it out. Let the writer within just unfold! Yeah, you don't have to be taught for that; without further ado, your basic education has given you enough to know "B" comes right after "A". There are few places left on earth where writing is unknown. Thus, most of us really know how to do it.

People proclaim they are writers. Why hello there, self-proclaimed writer! What makes you really one of those classic, socitey-molding, leading, revolutionizing guys (girls)? Telling you are a writer doesn't really prove a point here. You got your diary, your blog, your collection of fancy documents, written or typed, soaked with self-hatred, passion, pain and all the usual sufferings of an average human being. So do you really think that makes you one of those people? The holy group of writers?

Fuck, it doesn't.

Loving your own words, being compassionate towards your own emotions and deeply understanding yourself doesn't imply you are a writer. Even insane people write. Serial killers write. Assholes write (OK, assholes can be writers actually, for eg. Ernest has beaten up once one of his criticizers while showing off his chest hair). And emotionally hurt people write. Furthermore, emotionally hurt, insane, asshole serial killers write. That's the lovely thing about it. Like digital cameras. You grab one and you pretend you are a professional. Take that pen! Read some guys' novels and combine the two! There you go, you are a writer now!

But as Mr Weores said earlier, politicians and writers go hand-in-hand these days. You say you are one of them, you keep on repeating it and one day people will forget you are actually nothing but just an emotionally hurt, insane, asshole serial killer. That's how things work today.

And that is, why I'm a writer.

Sagopa's Child

(this post doesn't really make sense without listening to each song at least a minute long.)

Ever heard about Sagopa Kajmer? No? And Aphrodite's Child? Anyone?
The two bond in fascinating fashion, yet Sagopa is a rapper from Turkey and the latter is a 60's band from Greece.

It all started when me and my buddies enjoyed a rare treat: getting a lift to our dorm by our teacher. A catchy tune came from the car's speakers and I dared to ask for the artist: what I got was more than a name. I got my hands on the album of Sagopa Kajmer. Well, rap doesn't really make sense when you aren't getting a word so I got bored of it quite fast yet I couldn't resist perpetually listening the following song:

This mysterious tune just resembles the waves of the Black Sea, I told myself and Sagopa's deep thoughts were merely assisting. Years after, sitting in my father's crib (yo) I took advantage of him not putting any music on, so I grabbed my phone and started the song above. Wow, the waves again!, I thought again. And wow, my father says, how come you know that? asks, coming from the other room. Impossible. How does my father know contemporary Turkish rap? So there he goes to the record player, roams through his collection, picks out one album and puts the pickup on it. Wow. Now I'm listening in awe: is that Sagopa Kajmer from a damn record? Soon enough I realize it's not the case. It's Aphrodite's Child and the Aegean Sea:

Really? The issue though isn't Sagopa stealing the whole instrumental part (rapping and dropping the beat doesn't really conceals the thievery), no. Eventually, even Kanye West had to steal from Hungarian pioneer rock band Omega. It's the whole discovery that I impersonated Sagopa's track with the Black Sea waves and here the original song comes throwing "Aegean Sea" in my face! I'm just astonished.

Furthermore, I broke my unholy relationship with Turkish rap as the only catchy song they produced was actually done 40 years before by -the otherwise much disliked- Greek guys (Vangelis, Demis Roussos anyone?). Plus I discovered another branch of progressive-psychedelic rock. Has to be the silver lining.

Echo

Am I awake?
It seems so. The air is humid, clouds cover the sky. Mountains on the coast of a sea: it can't be anything but Trabzon. I'm definitely awake.
Father arrives with his car, parks it at our house. I've been waiting for him so long! We are going to Rize, he says. He booked a hotel for both of us. Just to spend a week together. As we turn to West on the highway, I remind him that Rize is to the East but soon we arrive to the city. Am I awake?
The hotel is decent, however the receptionist asks for much more money (700 TL) than we were expecting to pay. My father argues as the booking he made was a mere 400 TL. I'm trying to convince him to pay but he calls it a folly and storms out. I'm alone again, standing at a crossing at the highway. The famous tea factory is on my left. As I cross I meet new friends of mine: people from the recent Istanbul conference I participated in. We are going somewhere, anywhere: we are all quite happy but somehow I lose them and I find myself at the seaside.
The mighty waves of Karadeniz! Rize looks like a grim Venice here, shallow and narrow canals lead into the great sea. Weird people pass me by, some are invisible (yet I'm sensing them), some are just creepy. The Black Sea is endless as always. Makes me feel I'm standing on the edge of the world. The edge of my life. The edge of... everything.
Yet somehow the scene changes once more. I'm in a shopping centre. Bit like the mix of Forum and a nameless one in Madrid. I'm with friends again though I can't remember any of them by now. A tiny, tiny little baby toddles towards me. She is awkwardly tiny, maybe the size of my hand. My mother comes forward with my brothers and she announces she's my new sister, Eva. I raise the miniature newborn and lay her small body on my shoulder. I can't see her, the glasses I occasionaly wear is splattered by dirt and water. She is just so fragile!
Faint laughter of a woman echoes from the distance: a canorous laughter it is. Sounds familiar, something from the near past, something sweet... I can't remember.
I'm at the candy shop now, choosing some gummies but the price is damn too high (5.000 HUF). I hesitate to take it, even though I don't have much money with me. And at that very moment a cold, strong voice calls out my name. What it said is hazy but I'll try to quote it correctly:

'Again you are undecided! You are so easy to influence! Look at yourself, you wanted to buy something for tenth of that price yet just because you already took it you are afraid to withdraw from your decision. You are weak to decide! Weak to change and week to live!'

Curtains.

Now, I'm definitely awake. The voice still rings in my head. And I have the weirdest feeling I've had in the past year: something has changed deep down in the roots.

Yes,  I'm awake.

Two pages

 I've reached the next level of laziness. Upon my arrival back in May I had started using our old typewriter. Now here is a tiny example of those writings (click on image for reader-friendly version or just download because two image files from my blog won't really matter on your hard drive):

A matter of belief

'Not that I really believe in things like that, but my son is a Virgo and he is so neat and clean all the time!'
'Actually I don't really think zodiacs speak the truth but I'm Taurus and I'm also a bit disorganized.'

Just witnessed this conversation today in our office. Why do people believe in the power of zodiacs? Why would we even think that 12 signs could give you a more or less correct assessment of who you really are? Chasing the naswer on a dull Sunday at the office, I'm trying to figure out the answers.

Classic astrology dates back to the age of the Babylonians. These guys had some impressive knowledge on the world surrounding them which involved many fields of science. Hence astronomy was born and the well-know zodiac, the ecliptic which is divided into twelve equal parts. However the Babylonian ladies weren't that much into the tabloid-style zodiac so the real basis of today's horoscope was laid by Greek astronomer Ptolemy. Not that he really knew where this was going: the renaissance era and the following centuries has quietly separated astronomy and astrology from each other. And as the 20th century began, Westerners started to confuse the two terms as astrology had been appearing on the last page of tabloids and other weekly papers.

So what's up with this astrology thing today? Probably those Babylonians and Ptolemy would die of instant heart attack if they'd see how the scientific astrology has shrinked to nothing. A Western citizen identifies astrology with those twelve signs that "tells you who you are"; women seriously choose partners or end relationships based on constellations; and we are just sitting here, trying to comprehend what's going on.

Despite of the lengthy lead-up, I won't answer these questions with giving a scientfic explanation for all of this. Anyhow, it's a bit like the ever-green God-debate: if one says "you can't prove that, you gotta believe/ feel it", the time you've spent trying to find precise explanations is just wasted. So yeah, astrology (modern term) is something like this: you either believe in it or just laugh at it.

Just think about it. You have 12 signs. 7 billion people on this planet (estimated 100 billion since humanity has appeared). Now, all these signs have different attributes. Leo is passionate, creative, moody (that would be me) and all the rest eleven have well-defined characteristics as well.  So you have two choices. One is to believe that these descriptions fit you, a bit pre-determining your acts. And the other is to realize how impossible it sounds to have certain features based on your zodiac sign. Say, as a Leo I can't be neat? Or I can't be organized? Or antisocial?

'Of course you can' screams the zodiac girl, saying 'your sign isn't restricting your character, it's just a basic outlay of your person'. Right, now it all makes sense. But what if my caring personality also fits Virgo? No doubt I love taking care of someone I love. So? Virgo does that as well, I'm sure other signs do it.
'Oh it's your constellation. You have a secondary sign which is responsible for secondary features.' yells the girl and I'd punch her in the face.

It's just another belief. When we evaluate someone's personality, but we have no idea why he/she acts like that, it's way too easy saying 'ah he/she's Pisces' or 'Taurus are always like that'. This astrology thing is a bit like the tiny, less dangerous form of religion. Why? Here is the explanation. Comparing 'God' and modern 'astrology':

1. You have to believe in it because
2. Scientifically there is no consensus on it
3. You explain things you don't understand with it
4. You explain other people's deeds you don't understand with it
5. It's your personal philosophy
6. You can't really work out relationships if your partner doesn't believe in it
7. You can't really work out any kind of conversations if others seem to disagree
8. The deeper you go into the topic the better/healthier/wiser you'll feel

Assembling this list I realized the same goes for global warming, Justin Bieber fans and thousands and thousands of people believing something. But before enraged readers hurl rocks at me, I must say that belief is a beautiful honour and probably the best motivation power ever! We just got to stay sane before becoming blind to see that what we believe in is crap.

Okay so here is this guy telling you wise things about belief, astrology, criticizing everything and everyone, so what does he believe in?

1. Family
2. Nature
3. god (obviously not in religious aspect)
4. Humanity (ok, not belief, more like hope...)
5. talent
6. love.
7. arts
8. túró rudi

Hope it was satisfactory. Yell and scream in comments.

Brief report about the past months

I have been most disrespectful for the past few weeks, even months. Not a single post for such a long time, and my readers just starve through this dry summer without balatony writings! Yeah it's probably not a big scarcity but here is the post you have been waiting for such a long time.

Summer is almost gone, my job is almost done here in sunny Fonyód. As september approaches, life looks hazy and unsure again. I have a little journal to collect my thoughts somewhere and an old typewriter. to complete the hipster image. Anyhow, these lines were written just to prove that I haven't given up on this writing mission of mine.

Truth be told I should be taking this mission a bit more serious. Or any mission. After finishing Hesses's Steppenwolfe lately, I had to realize I'm the same damn coyote from the book. The guy who pretends to know everything and loaths society, whereas he doesn't even differ a bit from the ones he hates. So, as I identified myself once again as a suffering character of a novel, something rang the bell. What if I just start caring? It's so fucking easy to step up for yourself, for your dreams! And faith is the only thing needed.

As I was chatting with dad (those summer evenings with a wine on the terrace) once, he said that life is in the East. And making your dreams come true won't work in the West. What he said is a really simple idea: the Western world got competetive as hell, talented people race for positions, talented people win while many lose. But little Peter, he said, you just don't have that plus motivation to compete with others. You have the talent to bloom, to fly- but only free. And your hands are bound in Europe, he said.

Is that it? Am I really that spontaneous bastard popping up in a random Eastern country and forging his own luck? I guess we'll find out soon enough. At least now it isn't a woman influencing me to make the right (wrong) move.

So hey Istanbul! I'm coming once more.

The Turkish Spring?

It seems like the ever dull Trabzon came to life the moment I left. Some of you may have already heard of the riots all over the country and although international media reports about the greater clashes on streets of Istanbul, Ankara etc. we must not forget about the rest of the cities.

A brief explanation of how and why it started.

The planned (and launched) destruction of the last green patch (Gezi Park) in Istanbul's busy centre induced the first protests. However the lately accepted law about alcohol consumption had also been named as one of the main causes. The rest is more or less known: hundreds of thousands of anti and pro-government civilians and policemen are continuously fighting on Turkish streets, leaving hundreds of injured and already 3 dead.

As every major protest, the casus seems minor but after ten months spent in Turkey it's nothing surprising. The governing party (AKP) which appeared as a rather democratic organization back in 2003 when Erdogan was first entered his office as PM of the country. Lot of things had changed ever since and many voices show concern about Erdogan leading Turkey towards an Islamic state rather than continuing on the path of secularism.

People of my age had been constantly concerned about the road Erdogan is steering towards, however Trabzon had always been conservative enough to prevent any serious anti-government move. Until now. A dear friend of mine, Eren had written a rather desperate email with their situation. And as we have witnessed it during the events of the Arab Spring,  the power of social media seems to be the heart-and-soul of the protests across the country. While the local media keeps silent and the international broadcasters fend off the touchy topic the online media has once again showed its importance. Without further ado, the pictures of the demonstration in Trabzon:

Banner on the main street, demanding the government to resign. The words had become the slogan of the protests.

Main street again. The promenade "Uzun sokak" fades in the background so as the crowd with it.

Protesters in Meydan park around the statue of Atatürk. Many believe the government had long left the values of the founder of the republic.

Some signs don't need translation. The sharp turn Erdogan had taken since his re-election in 2011 resulted masses calling him as dictator.

"Is war that you want Tayyip?" threatens the sign. Hundreds and thousands have been out from the first day across Turkey, 20.000 in Trabzon.

"You can't be nice with gas" derived from a known Turkish saying. Police brutality had been particularly high and unreported, especially on the usage of tear gas.

Ilker who is also a Trabzon resident speaks of a peaceful demonstration which was interrupted with smaller fights. According to him police violence isn't significant while pro-government activists are the real troublemakers. This was confirmed by an ex-student of mine who was peacefully protesting with her friends when a group of pro-governists attacked them.

Today the streets are quiet and only small groups protest in Trabzon, says Ilker again. People are afraid to go out as provocateurs and police dressed as civilians throw stones and molotov coctails into the police ranks, depicting the peaceful protests as a herd of savages. And even the smaller cities seem calm now, Turkey itself won't stop anymore: the government and Istanbul's mayor predicts a fast end of the events but the masses seem to deny them each day.

Turkey's Spring has just started, and once it's loose the anti-democratic acts of government won't go unpunished.

Farewell

It's a sin

The post where some may stigmatize me as a die-hard atheist.

So the topic is sins and sinning, and as such I must start with emphasizing how much of a nonsense it is.
First of all, humans were created (well, not by god) as peccable entities or with other words, being capable for making mistakes. True or not, as we cheat on each other, lie etc. we commit the mistakes that may possibly reshape our life and our character. We tremble and we fail but we learn each time from our mistakes. And may the mistakes either overcome us or surrender at our feet, our lives are constant battles with our own liabilities. And it's good and proper that way.

And that's were the term 'sin' comes into the picture. A word that is -supposedly- mightier than 'mistake'. The word that doesn't originate from simple human beings but from a transcendent power above us. Practically, sin is a revelation of god and as such should be followed by all who fear him.

Now this makes our situation pretty much fucked up. The atheist has the convenience of not worrying about sins. It's more than enough to face our own defects without messing up things with god and his promulgated sins. But what about the believers? The billions of people, with the shackles of sin chained to their limbs and around their necks?

Well, let me derive the issue through a simple example.

There is a muslim woman. She always believed in the existence of god. She have been praying since her childhood. One day this woman cheats on her husband. The 'why' is not important. She wanted something new or she was just horny enough to do it. After all, she still believes in god but the sins she had committed makes her a liability. Knowing this was one of the worst sins of all she is perfectly sure forgiveness is an unattainable thing. She lives the rest of her life knowing she will certainly get to hell.

Well, this is how an atheist without any compromises imagines the situation. However I'm very much aware of the fact that believers could easily tear it to pieces. Firstly, sinning doesn't automatically 'grants' you the ticket to the hell. You may balance with good things so at the end when god's final judgement is upon you, you still have the chance for getting to heaven.

But the real deal is about forgiveness here. If we sin, we make god furious but we can redeem his kindness with good deeds. Practically this is the same for atheists as well: you make mistakes but correcting them ensures yourself that you are in balance again. Well, then what's the point in it? Why do we need the myth of this mighty, fearsome guy watching above us? Can't we just simply make our mistakes and then try to learn from them?

Nope. We just have to have him, a being so great and unreachable that is beyond our imagination. We live our humble lives according to one of the holy books, filled up with teachings coming straight from this fearsome creature. What a divine and holy link between creator and creation.

Hereby I would like to cite a conversation with a good friend of mine. A muslim herself, she has some doubts on her mind but during our discussions she represents the believer, while I... well, the other side. So here is what we talked about.

Starting with suicide, she mentioned a passage from Qu'ran that a sane man committing suicide is a great sin. Meanwhile, if a man with a hazy mind (well,mentally unhealthy? I have never been good in politically correct language) does the same, he shall be forgiven as he isn't aware that he sinned. Say what?

So practically, you may sin as you like as a mentally sick because god is merciful towards handicapped people. Well, let's face it: if you are handicapped on Earth you will be handicapped in the afterlife as well. But at least the term 'sin' won't apply for you. The term which, by the way was created by sane people. When I mentioned about this to my friend (as in: the holy books written by over-represented human beings) she told me the following (I must say I haven't read the Qu'ran and only passages of the Bible which would make a good point if I was criticizing the book but here it's about the origin of it).

Angel Gabriel gave the teachings to Mohammed who was writing the holy book for years after this encounter. So basically the unreachable fictional character (god) gave laws to another fictional character (Gabriel) just so he can give it to a real person who would later create the book which is followed by a billion nowadays. This just leaves me astonished. Why is god such a douche?

Man, you created us so why do you have to use your servants to teach us? You know how human nature is: we are curious and we doubt. So if you play hide and seek, many will part from you and never believe your existence. Seriously, why do you have to raise a few prophets out of the crowd (with the help of your angels) instead of just simply descending from the clouds and saying hi to all of us?

Atheists would shut their mouths forever, believers would be joyful and world order would be set. I would be honestly really happy. But no: you have been keeping silent since Mohammed's actions in the Middle East. That is like 1400 years without a remarkable event and please don't say we drifted away from you so far that you can't send your next prophet, son, or final judgement.

The thing is, god, that you must have seen the same thing happening earlier. The mighty Greeks with their gods sitting on the top of the Olympus had become just a mythology fueling Disney movies. Do you also want to become a Pixar animation in the next century? People forget, and you have to be aware of it. The lane humanity switched to is swifter than ever. Technology will soon (or already does) confute many practical beliefs about your existence.

(...)

I'm just saying, god. You better watch out and start interacting again with your most precious toys once more.

on the edge

Something usual. My mood, as it is. Awakened by the song: click and read!

And if i fall would you hold me?

sun shines through the leaves. im six again. we are walking home from the kindergarten. my mom is holding my hand. the street we walk on is lit by gentle and barely warm sunshine... i kick up the leaves. im fooloing around: i touch the fence with my fingers as i ran aside. im happy.

Would you pass me by?

i wear a blue hat and scarf. my grandma knitted it. but its not important. i find an old matrasse. climbing on it i start jumping up and down. im even happier.

I stand on the edge of the broken sky

now im home again... the sun could lit our living room with an eternal beauty. something that cannot be taken away from my childhood. as i sit at the kitchen table, im drinking some milk. with cocoa. i used to love it. my father is playing the piano now: my mom is not home. they are about to divorce.

So confused,
my thoughts are taking over

he is playing a beautiful tune. as he always does! as im drinking and listening... i start crying. i dont know how the tears came, but my dad jumps up with inhuman speed (as he always did when i started crying). he is almost shouting 'did you bite your tongue'... im crying and he cant sooth me.
how can i explain that the sun  is so beautiful? that the bright living room, with him sitting at the piano and playing that melody was just perfect? that i loved sitting and drinking my milk? as he hugs me tight i realize how much i scared him.

Would you pass me by?

he decides he gives up everything that day. the suit that had been going on for months about our flat, and everything else was given up. just because of the sunshine, a piano and a glass of milk.

And if I should fall, would you hold me?
Would you pass me by?

Would you believe that an adult can cry as he sees the sunlight? as he hears a melody he likes. as he remembers his family.

 or just: when he doesnt know how to finish writing.

My mind is playing tricks with me

We use only 10% of our brain.

A few years ago I was amazed by this overused fact. Already having an interest in mysticism through a philosophy school I attended earlier, I was constantly looking for a way to enhance that lazy 90%. I could write a lot about how I tried to use my psychological issue, the sleep paralysis to take my brain to an uncharted territory but for the moment I'll attempt to stay with more common examples.

During my studies I got pretty close to gonzo journalism and particularly to the life and work of Hunter S. Thompson, father of the genre (gonzo is when the writer uses mind-altering drugs which results extraordinary writings). Well, I was only experimenting with Hungarian wine which proved itself a worthy companion on my road into the unknow lands of my brain. I loved escaping parties in Eger without notice just to get home and type a few lines.

Soon enough some feedbacks made me clear that wine is not necessarily increasing my brain capacity, more like pushing it down. As some posts included parts where I hit the keyboard with my head ('bhkadhrfblrhıbavhleb') and I even considered it as a piece of art by the time when I created them, I had to realize imagination and brain shouldn't be combined with alcohol in order to reach another level.

(...)

I used to lay down on my bed in Szentendre. The rooftop window was just above my head which made stargazing an easy and awesome experience. So here is how my brain messed things up in a morning. As I opened my eyes I could see the light blue sky without any clouds on. But something was wrong. There were tiny, greyish spots on the sky. I just couldn't figure the origin of the mysterious points. My brain was telling me they were stars. But it just sounded nonsense. I learnt it long before that start cannot be seen during daylight. Our Sun is just too close and the stars are too far. However, since I always stargaze from that spot, and the sky was particularly clear, I started to think that my sight is so sharp that I'm really able to spot the stars hiding behind the light of the sun. I was staring at them in awe.

The moment of truth came when I moved my head. The little spots were on my window. Well, I haven't had it cleaned for some months. With dreams broken, I cursed my brain for playing the trick on me.

But what would happen if we'd use 30,50,70 or even more of the grey matter? An icomplete list of all the stuff I could think about with that 10%:

- No religions:
With a perfectly rationalist mind which can explain all the questions around us we certainly won't need a being who listens to our cries and gives us shelter. Why? Cause we'd be too smart to get too desperate or long for guidance.

- No passion:
Sometimes our brain is simply not dominant enough to say 'no' and our heart gets the upper hand. With a super-brain? No way emotions would lead us to reckless decisions.

- The death of the system of economy and governments; the fall of 'world leaders'
When everyone ıs equally genius, it becomes tough to decide who gets into which position. This should result a world where everyone is equal and money and hierarchy are non-existant.

- Golden age of science:
It's hard to argue that the only thing moving humanity forward is science. Thus, a world consisting only high-capacity brains should result a sudden boom in answering the eternal questions.

- Arts morph with science and everyday life:
As the passion is gone, the main reason dies which used to ignite masterpieces over thousands of years. Art gets degraded to the level of convinience, such as designing (clothes, houses, devices) where it can serve us in a useful way.

I can surely say with my ten percent that it sounds like a dystopia I'd never like to live in. As our brain could take over our emotions we'd become something inhuman, something that sci-fis depict as wise but cold androids or computers (see HAL for instance).

And as it's our nature that we are curious about everything, the super-brain would probably kill curiosity as well. So I have to apologize, Mr. Lennon, but (y)our vision of a better world should stay as a fiction forever.

I love my world with all the hate, the sorrow and woe, wars and lies in it. But what I love the most is the 10% that sometimes lets me down, sometimes turns me own, but never, never leaves me alone.

The rainbow is a lie

I don't really know how to start. The past few days reshaped everything what I knew about a girl. This post is about her but not for her. A song and it's lyrics assisted gently, see the italics.

It always starts with an insignificant spark. It goes unnoticed but it ignites the mighty and uncanny mechanism of the phenomena called love.

This story started the same way. Sparks jumped out of nowhere as the two met. However only She saw the initial sparks. He, as usual missed to realize what is going on. It was already too big to resist when the swirl sucked in both of them.

Four months were spent in this spinning wheel. Time seemed to pass swift and summer was indeed approaching. When the day of farewell came He saw the stars lookin' in her eyes. As if he had caught the rainbow's end. But now He had to let the phenomena go.

Summer was gone and He went on chasing the rainbow. Crossroads tried to deceive Him though. He arrived weathered but He arrived and nothing else mattered. He wanted to fly again.

But the rainbow has definitely changed. Has become a mirage and nothing else. What's worse, two months and some more passed and the awful lie, the most awful lie of all emerged.

That fame was the only thing that mattered. Once the scene changed... so She changed with it. Nothing mattered about the past but only the present. And in the present He was not good enough for delivering  the kiss-up She would expect. The He who She can put out in the window is whats She really needed. And suddenly He was thrown out of the whirl, left alone sitting. However Her twirl went on twisting other He-heads, twirling and raging.


For a name in the world today, for a little bit of fame today...

And as I type the last lines I find the only truth about rainbows. You hope you find the gold that resides within a pot at the bottom of it; but then it's nothing but flashy and colorful trumpery in it.

(...)

People hate rain and hope for the rainbow. Well, I love the rain more.

 Modest and transparent; but at least it exists.

Bittersweet Armenia

I broke my own record: from August to January I haven't moved out of Trabzon. The only time when I spent more than that in my life was in my mom's belly. Before going crazy, a week holiday dragged me out of the still water and took me to Armenia. Brief summary of the trip; pictures in this post, at the Peter vs Minolta X-700 tab and on the Hungarian blog.

Too much planning kills the joy of traveling. Despite of the well-known saying, the promise of a holiday started to work the chains and I decided in December that Armenia will be the destination. During Erasmus I had the chance to visit Georgia and Iran but couldn't manage Armenia, so going there was almost a must.

Armenia, this small nation is one of the three Caucasian countries, neighboring Turkey, Georgia, Iran and Azerbaijan. Out of these two are impassable, which already indicates the bitter history of a struggling country.

My road led through Tbilisi; as I left the Black Sea the weather got dryer and much colder. My first encounter with winter came in an awful marshrutka ride from Tbilisi to Yerevan. The drive was a smoker, and apparently had no intention on putting down the damned cigarette nor to pull up the rear window in the fiercest blizzard. His nasty habit left me freezing on the backseat. Nothing proves my pain better than this shitty pic I took up in the mountains during a short break:

And even though I passed through the Northern mountainous area, it deserves a few lines here.

Soviet architecture was never known for its beauty, but the Armenian soviet era has left an expressly ugly mark on the North side. While mother nature molded the rugged mountains and vast forests into a breathtaking view, the Soviets ruined as much as they could. High and grey, 20-storey buildings uglify these amazing peaks. What's more, some of these buildings are derelict. Or at least they appear to be derelict: Hovo shocked me not long after that poor people tend to move in to these places if they find a room suitable enough. The word 'suitable' definitely means something different there.

Arriving to the capital was much sweeter than expected. Marina, a journalist apprentice from couchsurfing helped me out with finding my hostel in town, and spent the whole next day with me exploring the city.

However the weather wasn't this kind, we roamed through the town under the veil of impenetrable fog. Thus one of the main reasons of my visit, seeing the mighty Ararat had to be postponed. I couldn't stop myself though from shopping a creative photo:

Later on I met my host and his girlfriend. They lived in a small flat almost in the very centre of Yerevan. Our plans about visiting the 'non-existing' Nagorno Karabakh (maybe later a separate post about it) were cancelled eventually. Money, time and snow were made responsible. At least I had more time to explore the city.A few days afterwards lady luck eventually shone upon me: Ararat showed itself. Foggy as it was but visible enough to take some over exponated pictures:

Legend has it that the two mountains were sisters who quarelled too much so they were separated. Or more like 'sat apart'. Like rascals. Like my students...

This awesome view was available from the genocide memorial. Sadly the museum was closed but the monument makes it sure you won't forget about it:

I will write a separate post about the genocide and the so-called controversy (as its called here in Turkey) but for now just a short story about the other issue the country has: the historically awful relationship with Azerbaijan.

Sophie, who was volunteer had an interview with an Armenian woman who fled Azerbaijan during the 80's. The woman gave such an emotional interview but I only understood later what she talked about exactly. As she saw her parents executed she could control herself but when she was telling how Azeris threw out little children out of windows... she burst out in tears. The difference between the two nations is more tense than ever, without exaggerating they are on the brink of war.

Back to Yerevan now. Two things seem to be infinite here. One is the sea of communist style blocks; a night shot:

The other is the surprisingly common presence of art. Botero statue in a park:

Or just a random E.A. Poe painting in a back alley:

Van Gogh cafe, statues everywhere and loads of graffiti-style portraits of artists, this city never seems to run out of novelty. Here is another guy who according to Marina committed suicide during the genocide (a great pianist, the statue is in front of the conservatory):

Most people here speak Armenian and Russian, however English doesn't seem to be much present (at least not when I was asking for directions). Check the spelling:

Note the name Armen: according to Sophie, it's quite a nationalist thing when you name your kid like that. Made me wonder how it would sound in different languages, a short compilation:

Hungary - Hunger (hoho)
Turkey - Turk (which isn't funny at all as it's an existing name)
Argentina - Argent (Mr. Silver?)

Okay peter, this was lame.

What else to say? Armenia is bitter because of its history and poverty; but at the same time it is sweet thanks to the people who live in it and the breathtaking landscapes you roam through. I'm more than glad for having visited a country with a story than just being a tourist in a place which everybody knows inside out.

People! Visit countries which the majority won't. And you will never forget.

(And Marina! Gotta visit you during summer.)

Describe a relationship with RHCP lyrics!

I grew up on RHCP. Literally, I remember my first experience came at the age of 7 maybe. We lived in a sunny flat in Budapest with my mom. When my stepfather moved in, he brought loads of cassettes with himself; a piece of this collection was Blood Sugar Sex Magik. How much I loved it! Even though I didn't get a word from the lyrics, I memorized as much as I could. I clearly remember when I asked Gergő about the following line:

Suck my kiss

 I did understand my kiss however I had no clue about suck (which I tend to forget during these days of pauper). He, obviously not willing to explain the real meaning told me something like soaping. I remember myself in awe, thinking how cool and punk it is to soap a girl's kiss! Just pushing the bar of soap in her mouth when she wants a kiss.

Anyways, my enduring love towards the band never diminished. Knowing most of their lyrics, at the age of 18, the year dedicated to my broken heart I realized how much they can describe a relationship. The most elemental example is Breaking the girl, which I always listened with joy after ending a relationship (or even beforehand...duh).

So yesterday I got the idea: let's try to describe a relationship with only RHCP lyrics! Enjoy as I attempt the impossible.

Phase 1. Spotting the girl
(Dosed)

In you a star is born and,
You cut a perfect form and,
Someone forever warm,
Lay on, lay on, lay on, lay on,
Lay on, lay on, lay on, lay on

Phase 2. Insisting a closer relationship
(C'mon girl)

C'mon girl
Let's get it right
Let's get it right
Let's get it right

Phase 3. Blinded by the pink cloud
(Falling into grace)

Head dressed in white
Beauty bazaar
You can smell the purple light
Comin' from her hear

Phase 4. Starting making demands as the initial passion is gone
(Suck my kiss)

Hit me you can't hurt me
Suck my kiss
Kiss me please pervert me
Stick with this

Phase 5. Issues start to occur but you don't take it serious
(Minor thing)

To readjust you've got to trust
That all the fuss is just a minor thing, y'all

Phase 6. She throws you out in the cold, you feel like...
(Nobody weird like me)

I'm a freak of nature
walking totem pole
look and see I think you'll agree
nobody weird like me

 Phase 7. You swear to bring down the stars for her...
(I could die for you)

Come again and tell me
Where you want to go
What it means to me
To be with you alone 

Phase 8 ...however, your prayers are unanswered
(Tear)

In the end and then
All will be forgiven when
Surrender rises high and I
Gave what I came to give

Phase 9. You are desperate and feel the world is filled with idiots
(Pea, made it plural for better understanding)

Fuck you assholes
You homophobic redneck dicks

Phase 10. All your efforts were in vain. You have to realize the only thing loving you is not a person.
(Under the bridge)

It's hard to believe
That there's nobody out there
It's hard to believe
That I'm all alone
At least I have her love
The city she loves me
Lonely as I am
Together we cry

+Phase 11. For the clingy ones who can't move over the past
(Don't forget me)

Don't forget me I can't hide it
Come again get me excited

 So... I hope it was satisfactory...

It was August

(so click here for an improved blog experience.)

It was August, 2012.

After a day-long trip the bus rolled to a derelict gas station. The passengers spread out towards the toilet or lit a cigarette. Both have equivalent importance. Eventually, I was in Turkey.
It was truly freezing. Amidst the mountains of Inner Anatolia the small station was built on the ridge of a gentle hill. The cold wind was sweeping from the top of the road downhill only to creep under my clothes. I was tired. And shaken. With the malleable, clay-like near future right on the top of the hill waiting for me I shivered and turned my back. The sun was going down but the dense mass of clouds didn't let the last beams light the highlands. Hazy tones of orange and red painted the bottom of the sky.
My eyelids were wetted; by my thoughts or the wind I couldn't tell.

I felt like it's only me, the bus and the mountains.

The first time in my life I was making a decision solely on my own. Was the country or the love that anticipated this move more? I was hesitating. The earlier didn't sound convincing enough, a country would never affect me so much. The latter... I'd never admit such a bold move. And yet here I stand.

My saddest fucking August.

The month I always hated and loved the most. The peak and landmark of each year. The grand final.

As the Sun shrank into a distant point and eventually vanished from the grim sky, I got back on the bus. My highly emotional self felt the gloomy sunset was forecasting an even gloomier scenario I was about to experience.

Shortly, life in Trabzon and my exaggerated misery had begun. But nothing happens in vain. One thing I learned during through my adventure in Calypso nymph's city was that life is much bigger than our petty decisions and concerns... so I definitely won't be the guy making a fuss about it.

And hey! We only live once. Fucking it up just doesn't seem to make any sense.

Movies- art or only a habit?

Many smart people have discussed a thousand times how social media and the new technologies reshape our world. While there are some definite advantages, some are indeed negative and I wish they'd  never existed.

Watching a movie today is nothing special. We know we gotta do it cause if we miss it we won't be able to talk with our friends and we'd feel embarrassed if we won't have an opinion. I clearly remember my teen years: we didn't have internet at home so watching a movie was a rare thing. We only did it on weekends if none of us was tired. It happened maybe twice in a month. As my uni started, things just turned upside down. I suddenly had the chance to watch basically anything ever made in the past 100 years without an effort. That was the moment when I lost the respect towards movies.

Whose idea was the Ben Hur remake? I'm gonna
beat the crap out of the guy (C. Heston)

Now it takes us maybe 10 clicks at most to download a movie. With a mediocre internet connection we can start watching a movie in 60 minutes. What's worse, we watch them in the same disrespectful way. My colleague Salih watches movies (LotR atm) with his finger sticked to the 'fast forward' button: if a scene is not interesting, he just skips. Or more like, he watches a long trailer of the movie. Before I judge I gotta tell I'm nothing better. Watching a movie alone at home, I catch myself over and over alt-tabbing to gmail, twitter and facebook. I even check all the bios of the actors meanwhile, the plot, and every little detail about the movie. I feel so ashamed while I'm typing these sentences, but it has been some time since I've last watched a movie without pausing it.

Who is to blame then?

I'd say it's both us and modern technology that turns watching a movie into a pathetic attempt on having fun. The days when I watched movies in the cinema or home, from video recorder- yes, those were the days. If I wanted to skip a part or go for a drink, I knew I was destroying the atmosphere not just for myself but for the others. I had the patience to sit and wait until the end. That's how Tarkovsky sucked me in during my uni years: watching S.T.A.L.K.E.R. made me realize how far the audience drifted from the art of cinema.
It's a long way back to the point where movies were still considered to be a piece of art and not another must-to-do on our Daily Schedule of Doing Nothing.

Rihanna in Battleship. The future?

Meanwhile, movie industry is choking in it's own feces. Over the decades, pop movies got lighter and lighter. Rihanna and Hasbro forge an unholy alliance (Battleship), Adam Sandler and other funny guys infest the screen with jokes comprehensible for a poodle, the original crew of Ben Hur will definetely turn away watching the coming remake, and the list goes on. 'Hollywood can't make anything but remakes' cries out the 'movie junkie' of our generation (which is another joke, as if watching tons of movies was such a great effort...). But they forget it's the audience whose needs are considered before making a new movie. Before making another crap we can skip on our laptops.

Now others may say there is a thick line between artistic and popular movies, which is fine by me. It's like Coldplay vs. Pat Metheny. Both play music but only the latter is seriously considered as a form of art. So why the fuss? Art movies should target smaller and more sophisticated audiences while pop movies should keep on producing the shit we all enjoy. Here I have just one small footnote.

Machete. One of the few entertaining action
movies of our decade

Take action movies. They have never been among the most meaningful of movies. But watch Rambo from 1982 and then watch any other action movie from this decade (The Expendables 2 for eg). You'll feel the difference. What's more is that the only fun popular movies (let's stick with action as a genre) are the ones that make a fun of themselves (Machete for instance). Movie production for the masses has never been about the artistic effort, but today's level has reached an all-time low.

Meanwhile the Oscar ceremony also tries to transform with the changing needs of the audience. While until the 80's the best picture award went to the truly meaningful and artistic movies, nowadays it's enough to take the Recipe That Pleases The Academy and your job is done. 2013's probable winner Lincoln just tells everything about this. An ever-green topic (American history), an experienced and well-known actor (Daniel Day-Lewis), a director whose name is known by anyone who sat at least once in front of the TV (Spielberg) and the genre... well, it's just always the same (drama).

Lincoln. The prototype of the 'Oscar-movie'

I'll be old fashioned now. I think the only solution is to spend less time in front of the laptop watching movies and more with sitting in the cinema. We do owe the filmmakers with the minimal respect, eventually they worked with it for months to entertain us. And once its provided, maybe we can start enjoying movies again.

Notes on İrfan Yılmaz’s Evolution- Science or ideology?

I have a speaking class with doctors. Few weeks ago only one of them came, so we didn't study much, just spoke a bit about various topics. We had a decent argument on God and evolutionary theory- me, as the rather atheist and pro-evolutionist, and Abdulkadir, the moslim and creationist. It was a pleasure to argue with someone who believes in something completely different and still manages to keep his cool head- we promised each other to buy one-one book which expresses our viewpoint the best. My choice was the God Delusion, I still owe him but he handed me Evolution- Science of Ideology? yesterday after our class. I started immediately, and decided to take some notes about the arguable points. Here is my first take on it:

The title asks a question which the author dismantles in the first 20 pages by saying ‘a theory which does not provide the opportunity to disprove it, and thus is not falsifiable, does not have the qualities required to be accepted as scientific’. Let’s ignore the practical fact that answering our own book’s question in the first pages makes the rest of the book look less interesting, and now linger on a bit on the citation. Yılmaz states that theories can only be scientific if they can be proven/ disproved with various experiments. He follows the same logic while nullifying the scientific origin of evolutionary theory, stating a said-to-be billion year process cannot be tracked down nor observed because of the length of time. 

However he somehow forgets to mention plenty of inventions and eventually proven theories that appeared to be impossible to prove, for instance, a hundred years ago. I’m not a scientist and truth be told my grades never been satisfactory in those subjects but it doesn't need an expert to disprove Prof. Yılmaz. The modern physics, such as quantum physics (which my father’s main field of research) is utterly based on theories. Proving them seemed to be impossible 50 years ago, nay 30, only a small circle of the scientific world was busy creating theories. There was just no way to prove them. These riddles, however,  appear to be closer to a solution nowadays. Take the Higgs particle, which was probably detected in July 2012 (hasn't been proven as a certainty though). Discovering it seemed a mere and daring dream fifty years ago. Today, it’s reality.

Yılmaz apparently doesn't have the trust in science, the trust that has been moving it through the centuries. The fact that evolutionary theory can’t be proved at the moment, doesn't automatically imply that it can never be proved, it just means we don’t  have sufficient knowledge- yet. He also reiterates numerous times that evolutionary theory is the commonly accepted theory for the origin of life and humankind however it’s unproven. Yılmaz definitely makes a point in the dispute with stating that the theory is almost handled as a fact and has become so sacred since it’s creation that questioning it appears to be almost stupid as questioning whether 2+2 equals 4. However, the book is a hard read especially if you read Richard Dawkins’ God Delusion beforehand… take this line for instance ‘However, the weakness of [Darwin’s] religious understanding, namely his lack of knowledge of God’s names and attributes- knowledge that is particularly exclusive to Islam’. Not that I’m a crusader of Christianity but this sentence just convinces me even more why religions can’t dwell within the walls of objectivity. What Dawkins expresses with shining humor and decent objectivity, Yılmaz substitutes with offensive dogmatism.

That’s it so far, the book is enjoyable despite of what I wrote; the sole fact that it stretches my vision on the topic is satisfactory enough. I’ll make this post a series of writings and will update it any given time I have some thoughts to share. Take care people… in Ourselves we trust.

Rosetta numero quattro

Shameful enough but the first activity in the new year on my blog is another attempt on making a Rosetta video. This time, even worse quality, no screen capture etc... Fans will be rewarded around 7.30. 'Enjoy'!