Piramit Otel

Eskiçesme Mahalesi

01 November 2005
From today on we'll live for some months in Bodrum.
After an exhausting day between tax-office and Tapu we stopped in Caferpasa Caddesi and asked for a room in some pansyon and Otel (Senay, coming with her husband Klaus from Kassel to the atelier, did put this idea in our minds: for winter time we'll not be on the road 50 km and more, we'll walk in town, we'll nor wash nor cook nor clean the house. We left the cats at home! Every sunday we'll go to Kemer to look after. But Sütlaç came with us, was exited like us, found already a companion, same coloured Pekinese Ginger, living there.
We brought much things this morning: two computers, one painting, wardrobe, small things, books. I lost me sleep about this adventure.

Dilek & Thomas Kutzli
Piramit Hotel Bodrum
Caferpasa Caddesi 34
Eskiçesme Mahalesi
48400 Bodrum/Mugla

Tel. +90 252-3139173
e-mail remains the same

bak: http://www.piramithotel.com/otelimizi_taniyalim.htm

Vladimir Nabokov sends regards! and we too

02 November 2005
Sütlaç normally don't barks often. Of course she does when someone approaches our house or flat: that's his guardian instinct. Sometimes he barks at television, to presidents, ministers and violence scenes. On the road she follows quietly her nose. Then she barks, rather howls, head to the moon: a hypocrite, a religious, a liar must be passing by! She roars. Actually she likes to eat them up. Flesh of hypocrites must taste very morbid, limp and flabby. In time everywhere around our place you might find their bones. An interesting detail: there are no spines from religious people! (Maybe that's why the must hang them up to heaven?)

3.11.2005

Old photographs

Gamze invited us, made cake and opened wine. Her cat went jealous at Sütlaç . Gamze showed old photographs to us. The older the photographs, the younger the shown people, that is known, but in this case I noted, that the older the pictures the more people were modern. Grandmother in roaring-twenties hairstyle! Today there are girls all covered by headscarves. Short skirts! Today they wear black and gray robes touching the ground. Opaque black and white snapshots - but the people to be seen more coloured than today's. The father a smart young man traveling the world, Montmartre, Fontana di Trevi, Notre Dame... Today you have to apply for visa to get to Kos.
One picture shows Atatürk and Inönü...

Falling

We are in bed, the light is closed, but music's playing, you're thinking of this and that, you're not aware if your eyes are closed or still open. The border of the bed! an abyss.... If you would let your hand hang down, maybe a rat would bite your finger, maybe a snake, a scorpion. If you would bend over it you would experience the black pea souper of nothingness, sublimated asphalt containing everything you and others lived, Benito Juarez and Billy the Kid (so far away from home!), a narrow street between walls in which you cannot u turn, the refuse collection, an elderly actress moving into an even older flat and scattering her teddy bears, raki- and whisky bottles all over tables, chests and sofas, Isabella Rossellini's tooth position, your unwritten poems, your unthought thoughts, the upcoming marriage of the daughter, old fashioned Turkish names like Fadime and Mübarek, incredible what stuff can be in pure black! I don't believe in "go to sleep training", it's thinking inside you, I don't like writers workshops, I never could write, always I could. Process's the princess! Sometimes I feel phantom limb pains for a blackboard where I could deliberately write along in big, aristocratic letters... Who cannot think is fired (out of himself). One's saying you could imagine the whole day backwards or count sheep, but they jump right forward, why do we call it "buck vaulting"? My feminist friend would enjoy it. Molly Bloom's ass will not be mentioned here like many other things. I get help from the crackle and jingle when the ropes tap against the masts down in near marina, plastic against aluminium I am making staff officers now,
enacting laws, creating countries and islands, I shall build an even larger psychiatric clinic over there in Leros, I'm counting almonds and eating the premature mandarins with their grass green skin (and allow the question: how does the orange get inside the fruit??), I am selling the most beautiful villa downtown to a Media Mogul, but first I am painting it white and I'll call the near lane Saray Sokak.... the black nothingness definitely occupies me, I am calling it allusion ullusion dillusion and Ilona