Archive for the ‘real life’ Category

Summing up my last few days

Posted: December 12, 2012 in books, music, real life



Back again

Posted: July 5, 2012 in real life, Uncategorized

No, really, this time for real. Or so I hope again. But I have way too much free time in my hands. Just need to get the Tuborg Goldfest out of the way. I’m as clear as a newlyborn kitty after that.

Gary Moore, the legendary guitarist of his solo fame and Thin Lizzy, was found dead yesterday morning. I am not particularly familiar with his music, but his works that I know of are one of a kind. Reports say he passed away peacefully, other rumor a heart attack. It’s always sad when a top-class musician passes away. Here is something to relieve the pain:

Being in Turkey does have its set of unlucky consequences. While it is a major cross-cultural hub, the music I believe is one of the lacking points of the country. Too much wrong westernization, and too little adaptation of said westernization. Just copying those styles from the US or Europe doesn’t work. Heavy metal is just one type of music so unappreciated by the general consensus that rarely did groups come and play here in Istanbul. One thing is sure, though, that it is getting better. So without further adieu, here are the major metal concerts currently announced to be playing here in the following months:

EPICA at Maçka Küçükçiftlik Park:

They had come last year to Izmir, and now they’re back in Istanbul. Supported by DRACONIAN and TRISTANIA, the Dutch symphonic metallers will play in Maçka Küçükçiftlik Park in March 27, Sunday. Personally, EPICA is one of the first metal bands I’ve ever listened to and actually liked, before I had begun listening to metal this much, and it’ll be a blessing to see them live. The regular tickets are priced at €22 for now, roughly 44TL. Available at Eventbrite.

CHILDREN OF BODOM at Maçka Küçükçiftlik Park:

Not exactly my cup of tea, but the pioneering Finnish metallers will be here in 18 April. I rather like some of their songs, though not enough to warrant an immediate need for a concert. The tickets are sold at €32 for now, also available at Eventbrite.

BLIND GUARDIAN at Refresh the Venue:

Recently pushed back to May 4th in order for the concert to better fit in with the rest of their tour, Blind Guardian is one of the groups I was already expecting this year. I have no doubt that the concert will be downright epic, and have already gotten my ticket from Biletix. I wait for the day I’ll be able to chant the Bard’s Song with thousands of others and feel at home.


The behemoth that rocked Istanbul last year out of its sleeping state, and the sole organization to have united the Big 4 of metal, will be coming again to Istanbul at a yet unannounced date, around the summer. The rumor has it that the heavy metal legends IRON MAIDEN will be playing this time around, but we’ll have to wait and see. While IRON MAIDEN may yet disappoint us, an event at this scope surely won’t. More info to come later.


This is a festival I’ve missed last year, and I aim to make it there this time around. Spanning three days (9-10-11 September), the festival aims to be the experience of the year for all the metalheads in the country. Currently announced are BETWEEN THE BURIED AND ME, OPETH, KATATONIA and ELUVEITIE, and these are just a friendly reminder that this festival is going to rock your world. For now, I’m especially interested in the latter three; OPETH has always been an enigma to me, KATATONIA a band I just haven’t got the chance to listen, and ELUVEITIE, the group that made me appreciate the brilliancy (that a word?) of folk metal. We’ll see what the future will bring. Tickets at Eventbrite.

Merry Belated Christmas

Posted: December 26, 2010 in real life

Things have been extra busy lately, but merry Christmas people! Hopefully I’ll be back on track after new year. Towers of Midnight review coming soonish. Hope you enjoyed the year!

More images to come when they’re properly edited carefully selected (no amounts of edit will make anything taken with a 5 MP phone camera acceptable), along with the exhilarating experience put into words.

[The first sentence is obscured by pen beyond being readable, and as such, we are unable to produce the actual aim of this writing.}

You cannot create something from nothing. It has happened once, for reasons unbeknownst to men, and will never again. That is the fate of the universe, if it can be called that. That’s just how it is.

Writing is akin to forging your thoughts, feelings, and if it is any good, you. You cannot forge that which does not exist in any other form, just like a sword that had once been a simple metal. Thoughts, happenings, and even just the simple act of living may give birth to something elegant, a piece of writing that is, without doubt, you. It is what is carved out of the jungle of inconceivable thoughts, put into words only.

I can never gather my thoughts about anything (recently read books, imminent questions) without first putting it into words, in the means of writing. Perhaps that is the reason why I am writing this in the first place, this being a question of no apparent importance and probably to be answered later in this writing. It will be inevitable since it is the nature of thought to crave for what is unknown, the unknown at this time being the reason to this random selection of words.

Is it a failure to think that you cannot even think without first writing about it? Does that sentence even makes sense? Makes a pretty much failure of a human being, who is ubiquitously known for his social needs, I’d say. I know I continue to prove this day by day, during my interactions with other human beings. A shame, that. Nothing to be done about it, seeing I’m still writing just to get my brain straight.

Nonetheless I can feel the emotions a human being feels and if I cannot even experience the rather abundant emotion of love at the moment, I find consolidation in which I can produce an emotion so solemnly warm as love while writing, experiencing its effects on writing without even bothering to experience it firsthand.

Writing is a lonely experience, being a writer, probably more so. If one aspires to be a writer, does one consciously aim to have a lonely heart, to think by his head alone whilst the society operates in groups of two or more? The current basis of this society lies in couples, or rather, groups of two or more. Can one ever be such a simpleton to try to defy a behemoth, created by the collective consciousness of many, including the writer himself? With the hope of victory slim, if even existant, is it even wise to attempt it? Does the fact that hundreds of thousands attempt it a proof otherwise? A man can only guess. This one likes to think the entirety of the writing community is a gather of masochists who seeks to fulfill their desires by the use of a form of conversation named writing.

A form of conversation, is it? Maybe not necessarily a conversation with others, since it would be unwise to consider it for an actual means of having a discussion, the direct talk being the rather easier and universally accepted way. No, it is a means of conversing with your brain, an act that sounds ridiculous at best. No matter the image, the actuality remains that one just cannot hold a decent enough conversation with one’s brain to answer the key questions one has to ask to oneself, who actually am I? What is my purpose here? Why would a concept like right or wrong matter?

Now, if only anybody has tried to think this through, you must ask your brain these questions, and it has to answer you for you to know the answer of it. Only, it doesn’t. Rather stupid of him, but it needs a means of projecting what you need through mediums other than thought itself. Thoughts get distracted easily, appear and disappear as they wish, and are largely unreliable. Writing is just another form of your brain trying to communicate some sense into yourself. More often than not it will be a random clutter of words, unidentifiable in their meanings, but the single hope is that once the clutter of words are complete, it will provide a message to you, that which your brain had been wanting to make you understand all along.

I conclude this writing session as I have run out of paper and can’t be arsed to — [the writer trails off at this point, most probably having run out of paper on a trip and unable to continue it later as the thoughts have already evaporated from the mind.]