“blablablblabla…disorganize…blablablabla” says many times Clarice Lispector in her book, isn’t she so right?

Imagine now as you’re reading this, with one notification you learn that the zoo your friend is working in has a python (named Pakize) missing.

or think of this: you’re on twitter scrolling, one tweet is on remembering the death toll of the last year’s earthquake in Turkey and the next tweet says “opera or blowjob?”, the next one is a cryptocurrency platform add and the next one is a photo of a monkey drinking iced latte.

Or imagine dipping your finger in snow and then snow turns into boiling caramel. We can go forever with examples.

The hard cut between your computer being on and off,, being on call with someone you love and not being in call anymore, between being in Asia and Europe. No commas, no punctuation marks. No shifts, no fade outs, no countdown, no bridges, no DJ, just an automatic shuffle, rigidly from Nicki Minaj to Swan Lake. The hard cuts. When the next moment comes, it sounds random because we weren’t prepared for it, we weren’t really in the mood, we ask “is this a joke?” I adore that. Because they defeat reasoning,,, they tell me we are disorganized, free to roam and our minds jump automagically and even reality jumps sometimes.

A ballet in the middle of the show starts bellydancing. Why not? Watch and she might make a meaning out of it, if she doesn’t then you’ll make a meaning out of it. You can’t stand still, can you?

“So there are immortal loves, but are there any lovers who do not die?” sings Ebru Gündeş.

So we’re bartenders, pouring beer constantly for thirty minutes and our minds go far away to places that don’t exist. The beer pours, our minds travel through stories.

In the hard cut between reality and fiction. I like that in kids-stories, fairytales, sci-fi that a raw reality 

hits occasionally and it sounds super ordinary and real for a moment. Vice versa,,,, in reality, in our daily lives something so miraculous and crazy happens that it feels like a fever-dream, it can’t be real. I try to use these two tastes together inside my songs and poetry with hard cuts.

An example in my poetry::::: I write about real people - hard cut- antromorphism kicks in and my fridge talks out of nowhere.

An example in my song production::: reality vs fairy-tale translates sonically into sirens vs chimes, anatolian drums vs hyper pop drums, distortion vs flutes. 

Another example::::::: that moment where the carriage turns back into pumpkin and the prince into a frog,,,,, a hard cut and suddenly the magic doesn’t work anymore.

I also use little glimpses of references to politics, mathematics and some widely known stories, plots and animations.

In Turkish fairy-tales tongue twisters carry the chapters, I use that tongue-twister kind-of rhythm and phonetics a lot.

The only plot I have is that::: A girl (me, a lover from a former story) is now an internet knight and she goes crazy alone in silence waiting for the water to boil and the fairy-tale to end so she can go back home to reality with zero in her hands, not really knowing what that zero is.

“Go to İstanbul” I patronize myself everyday.

Going from hard to soft, reality to fiction, bitter to sweet, fast to slow,,, the narrative changes with each next hard cut, resulting in an amorph web, a nonsensical rollercoaster, a hell-bent writer. They(songs, lines, scenes, memes), at first feel “off”, but I am very careful about their togetherness so once you glue them or look at them from a bird’s eye view, they tell a lot together. With memes, hard cuts and putting ideas inside ideas;;;;I love making double/triple/quadruple meanings,,,, meanings that are strangers to each other, connected only by a thin thread. 

About speed - I realized, one night pouring my mind out in Twitter, how fast it can be (an unstoppable avalanche) when I start texting to no one (30 inactive followers). Some hours, I suddenly become so sensitive to words, as if I become each single word itself once I read them, and text to Charlene at midnight “I’m having a poetry attack”. In contrary, sometimes my mind stops, I forget how to speak. Like a machine who is either on or off, to run hard or to be still as death. My poems feed on Mentos, cola, broken glass and nuance.

This is why I like to exeggerate and overdrive (manic repetitions of words/drums/chimes — weirdly, gives the feeling of motionlessness or ultra-fast motion or both at the same time). Very Istanbulian. I use sirens and alarmy sounds a lot, because of their feelings of immediacy, aggression and danger. Just like İstanbul, any minute something can arise out of nowhere, there is so much joy and innocence yeah but beware I’m not that cute.