Rad-Authenticity: Hop a Carpet; Ride

"We've been to elsewhere."   

Omar Faruk Tekbilek

On Eating Ourselves

    One particular selling point for the Sufism (Islamic Mysticism) is that it is shrouded. Every instance begs to question our belonging and pulls us into this world where faith, art, and ritual coalesce. To western observers, it is also the islam not contrived by fear; the vein of light in a increasingly foggy political climate (by representation). As tourists and the tourism industry function, culture must meet us at our tastes and often times, our ignorances. Sufism is the desirable islam to consumers we blind ourselves by provocation to watch others performing color, light, devotion, trance, the unknown. All irregardless of the nuance and spirit of devotion in those "common others" (in this case Arabs) around us, those eclipsed and of a profoundly different set of stereotypes not of their own. In the light of consumption, we have set the stage for the continuation of the performing role of the Arab as the Arab in performing role. If not exploding himself, then grinning and on display; a synthesis of shoveling imagery to sew up the regional complex wound of representation into oriental fixtures. 

"During one of the shows I watched, a large group of tourists got up and left in the middle 
of the show. I suppose they did not experience the trance-like effect." 

Aleta Quin

(Copyrighted and Stolen)

"You understand then that it's not your breath, it's God's breath living you from the inside out." 

Omar Faruk Tekbilek

The Mystic conflated to a tourist attraction.

If we removed 

the Arab, the Turk, or the migrant Kurd from within the 
swirling gown what would it mean?

http://www.sufiforamonth.com/

rebaba (folk fiddle), ney (flute), mizmar (shawm), 

frame drums, sagat (cymbals), and tabla (doumbek drum). 

Un-tilt the Socio-ecology

BloodMoon

Im your BloodMoon.
Flesh cratered from milked
Tasted stopped and tested
For another to keep its silk.


The bright under the bridge
Keeping it up.
Im that blood-moon
Bit bit bit by bit.


Soaped by wipe
To polish a think.
Cause Im that blood-moon
Prop the fool, the mob, the had-magiced


(Cause)


I am keeping it all in.


(Cause)


I like the lick to know to stop.


(When)


Struten to sucked strength keep its present.


(and)


Blood-moons come out to deflect
to steady the hats that grow
and we swept unseen
descriptively unknown.


Blood-moons done good to not.

Credit: Muhammad Ali

In the Bedrock

disclaimer:

There is no-moral here. ONLY the passing of time. 

There is a joke that goes something like a man who complains there is a intolerable pain stretching from the crown of his head to the ball of his anus and his taxing search for an answer he begins with a bit of advice from a friend who explains with concern that the pain may be without a resolution, he/she heard from a friend, the only path to freeing oneself from such torture would be self-castration ('Us Badaatak) but recommends the advice of a official so he goes to extrapolate on said pain, from the crown of his head to the ball of his anus, to his doctor and meets a concerned glare..."Although it may seem ill-informed I am your doctor," he testifies, "The only path to freeing oneself from such torture would be self-castration" however the man is not convinced so he takes his journey of physical liberation to the cradle of scientific medicine - Germany- there meets with some of the most prestigious physicians on the planet so they begin a panorama of concerned looks who with the grandest decorations declare "Without a fraction of a doubt we are absolute," they command, "The only path to freeing oneself from such torture would be self-castration" and admittedly the man lowers his head obliged by their words, however painful, and commits - years pass as time flourishes and there is some metaphor about the stifling of things elsewhere and our man is getting fitted for a suit for and engagement for you see but abruptly when the tailor asks "what side do you prefer your balls on, the left leg or the right" and our man replies, "well normally the left, but I will have you know that it has been sometime since I have had the pleasure because you see there was a pain---" "A pain?!," the tailor asks, "yes, a pain," he replies, "and now would said pain be intolerable and stretch from the crown of your head to the ball of your anus?" "Thats exactly the torture!" exclaims our man, "Ah well we would just put your balls on the right leg" and so there is likely a story here about the wisdoms from the mundane, immeasurable fiction of everything that science can subvert, the impressionability of the individual, the fragility of personality and how easy it is to slip from "I," or just a-lot of balls and cheap humor over whisky in tea-cups in my apartment with a saz, stories, and hospitality administered by what some people from Turkey call a Saki (one who pours). 

Sound Place: çay evi

YA OZAN!

A insight into the troubadour---------------A contemporary in Turkey.

The sun shines differently here. The nights are longer, the drinks more enjoyable. And then there is love... You have to experience it to truly understand the attraction...

Bilal & Mehmet (2010)

The Ozan-Minstrel-Literature: 

    for fictional " purposes only

A type of poetry in Turkish Popular Literature, that emerged at the beginning of the 16th century. The minstrel’s poetic powers come from dreaming of drinking from the ‘wine of love’ offered by an elder and seeing the image of his true love. The minstrel generally sees his lover as a saz, a stringed instrument. Other elements may be a white-bearded dervish and one or maybe three full goblets. The goblets frequently occur in the dream in the form of a bowl. The liquid offered to the bards in these goblets is said to be ‘full of love...’

Such poets are generally trained by a master. That way they learn both the master’s words and ways and means of performing their art. After having fully grasped these masters’ ways of expressing their art in the coffee houses, these poets then take on apprentices of their own, and the tradition thus continues.

The minstrel reveals his knowledge, feelings and abilities in battles of poetic repartee. The aim in these is to compete and win. At least two bards are involved in such matches. It begins with the recital of a verse by a master poet or other respected individual. The bard who is unable to add a further verse in the same style and meter is eliminated. 

"

               Like your earliest bards, the Griot, Muwall, Shaman, or Mississippi Rambler outside of the streets there is a place for commune. Despite its invisibility through the mundane, there is life and a sharing happening constantly in "culture," the "folk," or the "tale" among it and its audience, wherever. Although times beauty can peak through more effectively when within "difference," we may benefit from wondering about our individual personalized knowledge knowing of local folks (e.g. 'American Cuisine'), consider society and its events as Observations in open-form. 

               

                 In such cases as ozan çay evi  (Bard's Tea House) in Bursa, Turkey: Stories cheer with ideals and shape the way space is oriented. Like nearly everywhere, you can visit it.

LISTEN!

çay evi (DL)

Paparazzi of Everything.

This time in the brilliance of spectrums glossed:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

clean                                by all

with                                 Prints

the                                   of

rubbed    out         corners        gold

You have seen what it may look like if you took a photo and felt, possibly by the affliction of taking responsibility, what it looks like to absorb the political of that photo. 

It manifests itself differently, if ever to 'you.' Particularly, with the tradition of glossies of the "fascinating otherness," ( A thing not a identity of its own, marked solely by its association with remoteness) A trendiness, bolstering differences, upon the presumption that a reality has been stewarded, honed in-on.

 Its a deconstruction to a fallacy that brings only its author to the green-light. Circumstance is the proprieter of the paparazzi of everything and circumstance keeps a developed scene changing.

The process of taking a image as a means of reflections on political realities needs its own mirror. To embrace the non-static fluidity outside of that moment, by returning to that reflection again. A-politicized, a-affective to its subject, quietly considering (A photo of a Photo) to hang, and gallerize again.

Abu-Saleh at 20

(more stories from Palestine)

when I was 20 it was war time - Living in the Azarea - Quds - My father told us to leave - go to Amman - to our sisters home - "its not safe for you here, you will leave tonight" - Me, Abdul Kareem and Ali - age 5 on my back - In one day we walk 20 kilometers to Jericho - We arrive in the night and there is fire, shots ringing - bombs- we walk along the margins - staying away - other palestinians are leaving Jericho - a young boy without sharing any words saw our figures and just followed - about 12 years in age - We cross Jericho where a Jordanian Military bus is stationed - The officer calls out, "whoever is crossing into Jordan, now anyone can enter freely" - I put the children in - then myself- and the bus goes - Abdel Kareem left behind - hands slipping like in the movies - I say "if we see each other again then we see each other again - if not, there is a lord." - and Im crying - We get dropped in Jordan - still outside of Amman - Near the Dead Sea - There is a small stream filled with waste - Grass, Sheep hair Filth- I press my face in and drink - I tell Ali to drink - We needed to drink - Many refugees were stopping cars that were going into Amman - I see a family getting picked up - I think "god be with them, they are no better than me."


:-: 


A truck going to Amman picks us up and we arrive at night in the old city - Without electricity - people pierce through the dark with lanterns- I walk towards the lights - Asking for directions - I ask for directions to my sisters house - I know the neighborhood onlly by memory - I stop someone - ask - they ask - "where are you from" - I say  "Quds" - They ask, "hows the Quds?" - I say, "its gone, the Jews took it"- he screams - he throws his hands in the air - I keep walking - asking- I stop someone = ask - they ask - "where are you from" - I say "Quds" - They ask, "hows the Quds?" - I say, "its gone, the Jews took it" - he screams - he throws his hands in the air - I keep walking - asking - then a man takes me, in his car- sharing very few words - and I am outside the door of my sisters home - When I arrive she asks, "What do you want?" - I tell her, "I need to eat." - she readies a plate of kousa mahshi - I eat and sleep - the next day, I don't move - not once did I leave the bed - I couldn't - Abdul kareem arrived two days later- I see him - Crying - I stayed in Amman for 2 years - working in a restaurant - Hummus and Foul - my Sister and husband were very worried about me - One day they asked me if I wanted to marry - a young girl - from the family - and I began to cry - I was without a thing to my name - We had the engagement party the next day - the next year we were married - The wedding wasn't a wedding - It was sadness...

Tasreh 2008

(stories from Palestine)

I've got a story- we got the Tasreh (permission to enter Israel) - me and a friend - for two days in Quds - we forgot some identification while on our way to the port - we turned around - behind us the port was in sight and we saw movement- we were pulled over- the next thing was I felt a gun to my head - a voice screaming "Get out of the Car" - we did- but we weren't scared - being scared doesn't work with the shebab- secret police or Netanyahu - it didn't matter - they striped the car = held us on the side of the road - a show for those moving by - 10 till 4 in the evening- took us in - "paperwork" - left us - to sit- to wait - until this daughter of sin walked in - asked us "what will you have to drink" - politely - I reply "we want our papers and to leave" - no you will drink, " - she insisted- I would leave without them i thought - she left - returned moments later - two glasses - being carried - tall as trains - "water," she called it - smelling like piss - yellow tinted - extra mint leaves on top - and she says "drink" - "no way!" I say- kind of laughing - her saying, If you want to leave you drink" - I turn to my friend - Drinking - as if he never tasted water - and I pass the water over my shoulder - unnoticed :-: while walking back to Azarea - my friend vomits - vomits - I lead him home - turn back around to the port - I speak to a superior - lay out to him the themes from earlier - 1 -2 -3- 4- This daughter of sin is tried - put in jail - 3-4 months - whatever kind or how she got out - I don't know.

Not By: Sacco

"Bring together as many writers, comic artists, artists, colorists and letterers to create a visual story about Palestine. "

Palestine the Graphic Novel

Amman, Jordan

"Moving Chicken Feet"

Q: "Does that kind of business move?"

A: "Of course it does, its chicken Feet."

Despite the Palestine as a pin-up. Buckled by shadowy political agendas, the radicals who occupy the media beats, and all those extra-nationals who offer their condolences or solutions to the populated notion of "Israel/Palestine!" Its easy to forget whats lived and experienced. 

The grey-areas uncaptured. Where ones fluency in "mother language" lacks in regard to the language of ones occupiers. Where one can live untolerated between two nations: one hypothetical-the other compulsory and a remain a patriot. 

Where people, for example, move chicken feet. Between the West Bank and greater Palestine. Daily. Process them and ship them to China.

 

Living as Palestinian behind a wall, but speaking Hebrew better, for necessity of commute.

Eid Al-"Are you scared?"

This God doesn't eat your meat. 

Then when (the son) reached (the age of) (serious) work with him, he said: "Oh my son! I see in vision that I offer thee in sacrifice: Now see what is thy view!" (The son) said: "Oh my father! Do As thou art commanded: Thou wilt find me, if Allah so wills one practicing patience and constancy!" So when they had both submitted their wills (to Allah), and he had laid him prostrate on his forehead (for sacrifice), We called out to him, "Oh Abraham! Thou hast already fulfilled the vision!" Thus indeed do We reward those who do right. For this was obviously a trial and We ransomed him with a momentous sacrifice. 
(As-Safat 37: 102-107)

On the first of the 4 days of Eid Al-Adha celebrating the story of Abraham (Ibrahim) and the his willingness to sacrifice his son at Allah's request of his most cherished possession (and his sons nod of consent as well), the Muslim world ties ram, lamb, camel, and cow for the ritual of devotion and giving to those less fortunate thats involves killing for meat. Meat, the Ages-old "packed" with meaning Arab-treat. 

Meat Tea

                     "Adam: I'm a creature who ever drinks cognac"                                

Meat Tea

Table of tubes.

Graying Groves and streams.

Lucklessly fastening

Those sharing roots.

Those Sharing Meat and Tea

Suckling high heels.

Dark and lips sweetened.

and

Dead meat, again.

None for peripheral

Girth

But

Goring for masses

Incestual.

Surname Beneficiaries

Has Wrangled my vision

To those (the) sleeping well.

The stuffed in folio-

In the backs of Nissans.

Painting Sabhan Adam

Words Muhammad Ali

'MYSTIC'

http://www.mysticmusicfest.com/index-en.html

Mayor

Art

The Audıence ıs the most 'mystıcal.'

Its codes are the most subverse.

Its secrets (sacredness) ısnt ın the shadows or ıncestual hıstorıes of poetry, men, mothers, or ancestral chıldren, but ın the smoothness of ıts dısposıtıons, from where and how ıt audıts or ınterrupts, and the choıce and lıngerıng of ıts cheers.

It propels, dıscourages, shapes, reıdentıfıes, and forgets ın relatıon to place.

At the 7th annual 'Mystık Musık Festıvalı' ın Turkey, celebratıng Rumı's death, people watch enactors-scholars and archıves of the ımagıned 'Mystık.'

The World ıs gettıng closer not through connectıvıty, but rather closeness due through the capturıng and dıgestable commodıfıcatıon of dıversıty through marketıng nıches that change and mıslead us from a truer ethereal mısunderstandıng of remarkable dıfference.

'The Sultans of Spın' are markıng/etıng (dıfferently) the hıstorıes that others have already kept.

Every nıght: Mayor and hıs Englısh translator welcomed, 'Dear Art lovers,' to the 'Mystıkal.'

'The spırıt of globalızatıon and the globalızatıon of the spırıt.'

September 25th Tuvan Throat Sıngers: Alash Ensemble

http://www.mysticmusicfest.com/index-en.html#/groups/tv

September 27th Qawallı Musıc: Mehr and Sher Ali

http://www.mysticmusicfest.com/index-en.html#/groups/pk

LISTEN!