Today the dirt, tomorrow the hamam

September 3, 2013

2:40 AM


Just got here… back home.


I had spent a quiet day studying Turkish then music stuff… I ate, I was bored… I decided to go out. My friend M had invited me over to Kara Kedi, we are thinking of creating something together… a music project maybe, with her story.


But since it’s Istanbul, the low, quiet half of the day had to be matched by some sort of high.  It’s just how it works.


And it did.


I can’t really get into it, I mean I could, but I just don’t want to. Too long, too stupid in a way, and so freakingly predictable, you’d probably laugh or tsk, tsk me..  but there I was, found myself self-crucified.  Emotional crucifixion, I do that so F@# well.  Must be the Catholic upbringing.


I ended up on the roof of Kara Kedi. An open roof space with various debris, chairs, lumber, boxes, aluminum construction stuff.  It’s dark.  Probably better like this, so you can’t really see what it’s like, you only get the poetry of junk.


The sky stares back down at you. For a bit I felt abandoned, unwantable, ugly, a joke, incredibly dumb, I sat there cursing my emotions, swallowing a big gulp of pain holding tears back, then crying, then feeling really dumb crying there by myself.  If  I could just be cold.  slab of granite.  hardened.   Planes fly by. I am sitting on the remains of a destroyed chair but it’s actually quite comfortable, a begger’s chaise-longue. Across the way is Leyla Teras, empty tonight too. I was there last night, with Eren, to play gig that ended up more or less a bust because it was empty so we only played one unconvincing set waiting for “friends” to show up.


I felt ancient with the weight of so many rejections.  So many seeming proofs of my unworthiness.

M came up. She is so beautiful. A brilliant shining star, brighter than the ones above on this earthly plane.  It’s easy to feel sorry for oneself.   And I think that as you get older, the heart gets more fragile, brittle, and it can break like porcelain on a marble floor.

She offered me a cigarette.


“It will make you feel good…” She tells me about the story of an early cigarette of hers, how high she felt afterwords, it made her forget everything.


She tells me that when she feels sad or cries, she then remembers where she is, here in Istanbul, she remembers why she fell in love with the place, and sees that there is no possible reason to be sad. She has a point. It’s just that my osteoporosed heart …  is dumb to no end.  Logically there is no reason to be crying or sad or upset. Everything had been written on the wall, red spray paint on white, undeniable, clear and understood.

M speaks in the night.  I take the cigarette, holding it backwards, get my lips on the yellow filer and pull air through.  The taste spreads in my mouth and yes, it makes me high.  No worries I don’t intend to take on the expensive habit..  What is it that I must do?  What is it that I need to do?  What is it that I want..


I must let go.

Of all ideas.

Of all wishes.

Of all conditions.

Of all notions of knowing anything.

Of all expectations what-so-e-ver.

On earthly terms, there is no winning here.

Winning and losing is for materialists.

I am North American, so materiality is bred in. Inbred.

It is a bitch of a job to immolate this concept from my existence.

On spiritual terms, everything is a learning, a chance to grow.


I had just resumed my meditations yesterday,

I had stopped back in July when I took that Turkish class and since, I have not been able to find my way back to it.

Give the ego, the body, an inch and it will take over your life. So interestingly, yesterday I had resumed this spiritual activity and tonight this came.

I am thankful, yes, I’m not bullshitting.  I really mean it. I learned much and was bestowed some unforgettable gifts.

The pit in my heart, well… it has been badly singed, so be it.

I have to find the courage to look at everything dead on. Everything including my own face.  Own it.  Accept it.  Laugh it off.

I have to find the courage to say no when I think no. To say F@# off when I think it. To scream when it wells up, be it joy or sorrow.

To dance when I feel it. To stay in my world and not bend to please anymore.

Without rancor, without fear, without anger, without anything else but my truth.

I had adopted this “glide” theory, it came from motorcycle riding,  never fight, don’t ruffle anyone, do not engage because on a bike, any fight will be a losing fight, just glide in and out of traffic, in the open spaces,  efficiently, gracefully… I see that this applies beautifully  to traffic, not necessarily to every aspect of  life.


Yes mister, you were right, I need to speak up.   I actually need to “exist up”  …. so much so…

Tomorrow: well, I think it’s time for a visit at a hamam. (Turkish bath)

For a deep, deep cleanse, to be beaten clean so to make a fresh start.







2 Responses to “Today the dirt, tomorrow the hamam”

  1. connie pryor Says:

    Nice pic from the roof. Take care of yourself & get into your music I miss it.

  2. Danielle Liard Says:

    I’m always here, if you want to chat or send me an e-mail, whichever. You are definitely worthy of great praise and great love.


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