For The Turkish Impaired, Extended.

Fingers are vulnerable to feelings. Remember to check them when you're anxious or excited or when you're about to empty the brown-glass pill bottle. They can be set aflame, melt, bled in an all too non-stigmatic way, they can even disappear suddenly and inexplicably. I, myself, have lost 8 fingers once. They came back after a blinks later, they were quite out of control and smellt peculiar. I still believe they have felt an unbearable boredom and left my knuckles to swim in the warm rivers of the Eden. But what do I know, fingers have their own conscious and their own agenda. Our mind is somehow deficient to understand their reasoning.

I have given up on thinking about my fingers for almost 15 years now. Our relationship is not very healthy though but it doesn't matter, I'm happy with the way things are. They let me feel, they let me create, they let me think, they let me deceive, they let me explain. I bite them in return and I respect their need of disappearance. This is a mutual slavery, we -Notions Eleven- all are aware of that and have no problem with it.

This blog is the playground of my fingers. Hereby, they satisfy their own needs, they do what they are supposed to do, while I try to observe what exactly they are doing. In terms of words, you usually understand nothing, nothing at all. So this all fuss seems like another music blog with the highlighted download links and if you are curious enough to see what exactly my fingers have done, you see a huge pile of crap.

Translators are the assholes of revelation. Don't trust them, don't even think to use them. If you are curious, if you want to understand, if you ask why and if you ask what, you don't need them, not at all.

Wittgenstein says a private language in which one speaks to oneself about its very own sensations is impossible to have. But to think about anything, anything at all, we must have a language, a set of rules, a communication device. Be it sign-language or Latin, it has to be public, inherited and inheritable.

This is my language through music and sentences. This is how my fingers dance.
This is my answer to all unanswered whies and whats and whens.
This is my thank you to all compliments.