Expect the unexpected, follow the lovers lost in this blog.

A blog to cater your mind,body,and soul as you drink Turkish Coffee. We are proud to present our new storyline called Cafe's search for his "Zahir". Everyday is a new day for the "Cafe" (from Istanbul) & his journey for "Zahir" (from Baku). Don't expect extraordinary drama from the narrator, me. Still, this is a drama (maybe real!), and have better impact on you than watching a soap opera. Guaranteed. There is genuine feelings within inspirational periods. Cross your fingers for this story to end with happy marriage :-) All rights are reserved.

EDIT (01 July 2009) - She is engaged with another man, and I finally made my marriage proposal bringing my family to Baku. The result: She stays engaged and will have her wedding, so called "toy", with that another man.

Rest in peace Ms. Zahir.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Turkish Genocide DVD ??? and Deep in My Heart !!!

Will have more comments about this. Now, let me post today's news from deep in my heart:

Writing these words while I am offline. It will be a pleasure to copy all these "nonsense" "unloved" feelings within one click, and paste them all on this cozy blog within one shot. Unlike drinking the full alcohol drink in one shot, this will be more sober. No idea about being drunk, but became an expert about being love-dunk. Not a donkey, me, oh no, or well yes, maybe a goat waiting on the bridge crossing from Turkey to Azerbaijan. It is not Axier-Bye-Jaan, or Tour-Key. Don't forget the exclamation mark, and the explanation part. Still in love with her absence, cannot imagine my love with her presence. Maybe I said this before, but it is true and I am in love with her wholesome. If she is a kind of bread, will I call her 10 grains whole wheat sophisticated extravaganza bread, or simple pure white bread, oh don't forget, the thick, dense, Russian black bread. Well, I will choose none of them. Too much bread is unhealthy. Yes, some is necessary, and can be replaced with another type of carbohydrate in your diet. Is it carbohydrate or something else, I forget, no internet, cannot spell check. Too crowded in my mind, still ready just like 2 days ago, or since she left me alone. Still ready to departure for Baku, waiting for a new life, interesting, humble, and simple. Yes, indeed, I come from the middle asia, my ancestors were nomads. Really ready to become the new era, new generation of sales nomad, or nomadic sales. Don't know if it is cool, or fool to run around away from homeland, but have my reasons ready and all set. I heard people write on internet forums when they escape from their daily routine of work life, I disagree with that, here I am sharing my plan, inspiring some, and entertaining others. It is all about Cafe pleasure, sizzling feeling, unlike a KFC chicken, or McDonald's French Fries, or Starbucks Somepresso. Living in a life without internet would lead me to one thing, to think. To think how I will keep constructing my steps, my bold steps to Baku, to her motherland, to her beloved city. Visited this mysterious location more than four years ago, heard about the new improvements in life styles, living situations, etc. Wasn't bad at all four years ago, but don't imagine it as another Dubai, in fact wouldn't like to see Dubai Version 2 (Converted from Old City Baku). Oh yeah, they still preserve the oldies old city Baku. We say in Turkish Baki, which means smart, I think, like to say "stay baki", "stay conscious", or does it translate into another meaning, like, like her, her Le y (and) her La. Looking at my lips, seemed like her lips (ok without the lipstick:), on the rear window while driving, ok, don't worry I didn't drive the car, just sitting on the passenger seat, looking at the passing cars, imagining my past enthusiasm. Life was full of all that sort of feelings, good feelings, happy feelings, creative and optimistic feelings. The realities dropped the pressure for a while, than paused the life for a while. Oh no, it wasn't like today's HD Televisions, no plasma or LCD at all, yes, it was four years ago, or say three. But, it was uncommon to see. So, pausing was messy, not quality, losing the view, then it rained and snowed, sun rise, and dawn, we lost the connection. Nomad Cafe travelled around the US, jumped from one college to another, mixed all sorts of classes, then ended up finishing college vollege bollege in three years. So, 4 is not always equals to 4. I made it equal to 3. I tried to tighten the stone, thought it will be a thorn. Didn't try to put my hands in bloody, like they say in England, oh bloody life, bloody car, etc. Not meaning killing, but shitty, I guess, it was translated into this. I prepared a space in my mind, not calling it bloody, or shitty, but pretty. And the thorn in my hand was a result of all the roses I picked up fresh from the garden to decorate this space. Went to the mosque before 11am, to check what's going on, what is right, what is not. All Paulo Coelho dramas contain a skim milk of sex content. I never mention that, won't do that, because it is supposed to be sacred. As we are mixing all sorts of stuff together to think we are creative, and so. Life is simple, we are making it complex at all. Don't want to discuss how HIV Virus began. The real virus is in our minds, just need to cleanse, tone, and moisturize. Well, also protect, the sunshine is dangerous nowadays. We made the ozone layer disappear, and she did my lovely protection... Don't want to accuse her, but cannot understand the three big letters, WHY? Three big letters, but four characters in total. See, once again, 4 is not equal to 3. I would wait for her to marry someone else. Can't hold another girl's hand, without confirming her independance. Since I declared my addiction, and being prescribed to take "her" drugs, the drugs that drag me down and up, now holds me alive, but not live, thinking about being alive in the past with her, unknown livability mobility, forgetibility, maybility. If I add a new word meaning her passion, her relations, her devotion, and her divorsion, will wikipedia accept my entry. Can't put her attitude in one word, if me another men, he would say **** Off. Me as person of faith, person from Sufism to Mevlana, person from complexity to simplicity, will only tell her, or just tell to the mountains, because she doesn't listen to me anymore. What am I gonna say? Hmmm. Nothing left at all. I remember her name, is it enough?, I would cry out her name in such way from the nearest Turkish hills to the further mountains in Turkey, than to all mountains in the Eastern part, coming towards Baku, passing Himalayas, matching all echos and sounds, traveling around the world. Her name will travel around the world at the speed of light, well no, keep it slower, no rush, since she will still close her eyes, ears, and other parts like lips, since I am not allowed to kiss. Would you let someone kiss you, indeed you are prohibited to speak with her. Believe, just staring at her would be acceptable. Only seeing her eyes, and solve the quantum physics in her physical being. I wanna discover her mental being, because I know there is something else is hidden behind her virtual image. The internet is still not on, but me, I am turned on, I am turned on to tell this young men and women to stop the war, make piece forever. The wars should be over, putting reasons behind the goal of wars is nonsense. If I try to say I hate her after all, will it seem logical at all. No, please, leave the sugar, I prefer my cafe simple, my cafe naive and, and, and Frank Sinatra concludes my untidy sentences, he is singing in the rain, walking under the rain, and we all walking under the rain of my thoughts keeping up my desire. Wanna say thanks to the beautiful Azeri person who visited my blog consecutively since the seperation. It is a pleasure to see the visits growing from 1 to 1, and then another 1, each day. Is it her new bf? Or another beautiful girl, although don't think there is another girl like her, Azeri not another origin. She is Original. It feels like a small girl shut the door in front me, chased me first, left me then, watches me now. Opening the door whenever she likes, since I don't put a security cam on the blog, to see who is watching me, or not. Just able to track loyal visitors down with Google Analytics, free service, quality feeds. This love was free indeed, and feed me with quality things. Shall I say things, or thorns again, because my heart is broken, her heart was broken many times, and she is fed up now. The mosque that I visited 2 hours ago now sings the prayer. No, it has not been two hours since I said the first word in this ocean of words. Open her eyes, let her see me, I am not angry, just curious to see her face, when she will need to..She will maybe see, maybe hide more when I come to Baku, but I am excited to return to my nomadic style after less than a year experience in Turkey. You read this all, don't think "I" is me, me is "I". "I" is Cafe, and I love Cafe. No, Cafe doesn't love Cafe, I, me the narrator, loves Cafe. We, or me, or I, is only a narrator, the bridge between Cafe and Zair. Poisoned once, and now writing continuously about this broken hearts. I called the people who sweeps the streets, they respect this love, don't want to trash it away. I indeed and in fact, and in love, never expected to trash her. Will not trash her, until I see her, and offer my proposal. Make my proposal, or say however you like. The prayers end now, and Allah is great, he makes the plan, so the last dot here ends.