Istanbul in My Heart Part III
Summer September 98 in Istanbul. The smell of cricks and hard day labour can be seen from the eyes of the taxi driver seating besides me, honking on every single thing that moves, grannies, grandpas, kids, and sheep. “Bring em on and I will blight in my national language” said the taxi bey.Anal. Vivacious and vibrant, like the Merdeka day parade. Negaraku, tanah kita depa sapu.
Road from Uskudar to the pier was hectic, ranks and ranks of deliberately fucking and celebrated chaos, a show of gallantry and otak udang. The bloods of warriors run in their veins, sharp edges and fez, and the ability to eat olive just like that. Errrghh. And Fanta, it's always Fanta, not Coke. Coke kurang, Fanta ada banyak. Making me fantast. Hohohoho.
**************************
I am late. Tonight will be the last night im meeting Tugba. In two days time, i will reek and feast my eyes with the meat market at the bar in HRC, inhaling repugnant savor of peccadilloes, mind you, sins. Open your heart and be a peccant. Masticating yummy diagrams, salivating steps of Lucifer. Not to mention bargaining eccentric shoppings at Lorong Kulit, and ceramah maghrib at Masjid Shah Alam. Yayyyyy!
The marmoreal on the lavish restaurant was shining gloriously, and the voluptuous bodies of the half naked belly dancers, turning the minds of the half naked heads. Shake it baby, shake it baby. Translucent of lust is in full control. But for me, nothing can divert me eyes, from the one sitting in front of me. Love-in. Sorry, but i have a better honest and lovely soul, waiting for me in my home country.
**************************
Mustafa Kemal Artatuk International Airport was still under construction by then, hence the looting of my cartoons of dunhill mat rempit, yeah, I smoke that, but does that make me look like one?, don’t be a cynical freak. And don’t judge anything per se, if we don’t want to be judged discriminately, eh? Disorganised was the word. As the plane landed on KLIA, accompanied with the joy of clapping and ludicrously political climate, I can hear nothing, bar non.
Except, the indented and plain tinge in my heart, saying the one in Malaysia, has been sleeping around. Fuck.
Road from Uskudar to the pier was hectic, ranks and ranks of deliberately fucking and celebrated chaos, a show of gallantry and otak udang. The bloods of warriors run in their veins, sharp edges and fez, and the ability to eat olive just like that. Errrghh. And Fanta, it's always Fanta, not Coke. Coke kurang, Fanta ada banyak. Making me fantast. Hohohoho.
**************************
I am late. Tonight will be the last night im meeting Tugba. In two days time, i will reek and feast my eyes with the meat market at the bar in HRC, inhaling repugnant savor of peccadilloes, mind you, sins. Open your heart and be a peccant. Masticating yummy diagrams, salivating steps of Lucifer. Not to mention bargaining eccentric shoppings at Lorong Kulit, and ceramah maghrib at Masjid Shah Alam. Yayyyyy!
The marmoreal on the lavish restaurant was shining gloriously, and the voluptuous bodies of the half naked belly dancers, turning the minds of the half naked heads. Shake it baby, shake it baby. Translucent of lust is in full control. But for me, nothing can divert me eyes, from the one sitting in front of me. Love-in. Sorry, but i have a better honest and lovely soul, waiting for me in my home country.
**************************
Mustafa Kemal Artatuk International Airport was still under construction by then, hence the looting of my cartoons of dunhill mat rempit, yeah, I smoke that, but does that make me look like one?, don’t be a cynical freak. And don’t judge anything per se, if we don’t want to be judged discriminately, eh? Disorganised was the word. As the plane landed on KLIA, accompanied with the joy of clapping and ludicrously political climate, I can hear nothing, bar non.
Except, the indented and plain tinge in my heart, saying the one in Malaysia, has been sleeping around. Fuck.
posted by madnessinvain at 1:56 AM
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