Saturday, November 6, 2010

Tuzluk kız postu attım kendime

İlk ve son kez hiç tarzım olmayan bir hareket yapacağım. Dönüp dolaşıp elimde sketch book ve mont blancımla ( nasıl yalan 5 yıldızlı otel araklaması 8. sınıf kalite tükenmezimle) 50 defa izlediğim bi filmden alıntı yapacağım. (en beğendiğim iş style). Bunu ancak o yazardı... Kitap okumayın, gazete sakın okumayın zaten bu aralar sinir harbi yapıyor, aç kapa, aç kapa, bunlar böyle illa bişeyi kapatacaklar, sorsan Kasımpaşalıya o gevşek ağzını gider davoslarda açar, kendi territorysinde kapanmadık delik bırakmaz. (neyse bu sefer beni amacımdan saptıramicak şeytan nejat işler görünümlü ilyas salman)

There are nearly thirteen million people in the world. None of those people is an extra. They're all the leads of their own stories. They have to be given their due.

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.


  1. Synecdoche, New York (2008)

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  3. aaa gercekten mii thenk u lol mucks xoxo