Posts Tagged ‘dog’


Posted: November 6, 2017 in Uncategorized
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“Hey Goldie,” the dominant lady with big belly exclaimed. Her name was Teresa. Old, almost blind lady Goldie stopped and looked. She was ready to do whatever she was about to be told.

“Come here,” Teresa ordered dominantly. Her husband Michael smiled in the manner of a dog. Was he really that submissive or was that love, I asked, wondering who that man was smiling behind his thick glasses.

“She Is too old now…she cannot see, she cannot hear, she can hardly walk, she does not understand what we talk,” said Teresa as the old Goldie ran towards her in slow motion which generated compassion in everyone. Michael laughed to compliment his wife. I joined him not to receive oppressive look from Teresa. She, too, laughed. I had to have her heart in my palm, it seemed like from the first minute I had met them.

She held my index and middle finger very firmly after greeting me in our first meeting and stroked them like she stroked Michael’s cock when she felt like.

“I let that house to an Armenian family,” said she and invited us into her own house with enthusiasm of a teen, hardly containing herself in her old body. I kind of liked her then and there. I knew why; we had the same kind of madness maybe at different degrees. I was already imagining how we could become explosive one day if we ended up being friends or acquaintance as I followed her with my old neighbour who was in love with me. I fancied his son and slept with him soon after I had met him with no guilt or shame. He was the sweetest man I had ever met. He fancied me, too. Hence he hid the fact that he was married twice and had two kids. You see, I could have easily called him a liar if I did not like him so much but I have not. I guess I still like him. I cannot help it just like his father could not and still cannot help being in love with me. I did tell him that I liked his son and slept with him like I had never slept with any man before but he did not care. His love was extremely blind. I did not know what to do about it but for now it was good to have him with me to give a great first impression to Teresa and Michael. Yes, it is still true that a woman, no matter how attractive, how pretty, intellectual she is, is not respectable on her own unless she has a big bank account and two body guards in which case she would not need to rent a house of such people like Teresa and Michael. Yes, it is still true that money is the only power unless one is supernatural.

goldie lady


“You might want to buy this house,” said Teresa to my ex-fucker’s father whose name was Emir. He smiled.

“It is a big and beautiful house but I need something smaller,” he lied, and smiled at me sarcastically. He was good at lying. It made him feel smarter than others but he had no idea about tricks of the mother nature nor did he seem to have met a secret demon catcher like me before.

“Oh aren’t you, too, going to marry soon,” asked Teresa and laughed without knowing a word about us. She knew she had just said something she was not supposed to. So many butterflies began flying into the air from Emir’s eyes. I did not know what kind of stomach he had to love the woman who slept with his son and who was his child’s age. I stopped condemning people long time ago. Playing with their weaknesses as I pleased was more joyful, I discovered. It was so much fun to make them believe that I was the person they had perceived and behave like who I really was when they least expected.

goldie 2


Emir smiled like a shy teen, I looked away, Teresa looked at us as if a fortune teller looked into a crystal globe and told the future on top of the stairs in her big old and messy house which smelled food. Michael did not even bother to walk in and interrupt her. He knew that she was not going to give him a chance to talk so he stayed outside and played with the cat instead. She talked, talked and talked…she talked even when she did not talk, I heard every word crossed her mind. She was not really showing her house to us, she was studying us in her house. I decided to play idiotically innocent young woman whom she could easily deceive even abuse sometimes. I knew this was the type Teresa was looking for to let her house. I made sure that she regretted letting her house to the Armenian family before we walked out of her smelly, messy big house. I did not talk at all. I only smiled and acted so extremely kind to the point of stupidity. By the time we walked out of her house, she was in pain, I could see it in her eyes. She was no longer dominant but extremely motherly creature. She held my hand and said:

“Let me show you a place.”

“You said you let it to an Armenian family, did you just change your mind,” I asked.

“No, forget about that place…I have a better one for you,” said she and led us to it. We walked through beautiful garden right side of which had admirably peaceful white houses. I had never imagined to have one up until I was thirty. I never thought I was going to live long enough to have a house, I contemplated about killing myself if I did not die that soon but I did not. I could not, there was still some goldie 3love left somewhere in my bleeding heart apparently , I did not kill myself nor did I die. I had chosen love.



“Oh, that is exciting,” I said to Teresa and smiled. Mad parts of our selves greeted each other second time when she looked into my eyes as we walked through a heavenly garden.

Michael did not come with us. He stayed with the cat instead.

“I kept this house for my son, I was going to live here after selling my big house for a while but since I loved you so much I am not going to let you keep looking for a place,” said Teresa with a great empathy which I was not sure whether stroked her ego or was a sign of her humanity. I was not in a position to care about such subtlety, I needed a place. Where I currently lived was too noisy. I was no longer able to sleep at night due to loud fucks around my flat. People were primitively basic around that place.


“Here is the living room,” said she and I fixed my eyes on the bluest and brightest Aegean Sea shouting quietly in front of the balcony. Teresa did really love me, I thought stood where I stood in the evening she and Michael visited me with a bowl of soup and some cookies. Goldie had come with them, too.

The old, half blind and deaf Goldie stood by her feet and kissed them. It was hard enough to be a dog but harder to be an old one, I thought. She was living last years of her life, according to the local vets. Teresa and Michael were prepared to lose her any moment.

“She had been with us for fourteen years,” said Teresa and lifted her up. Even her hair looked old and weak. Teresa sat Goldie on her laps and stroked her back. Michael smiled, sitting next to her.

“Would you like a cup of tea,” I asked. Teresa stood up as the biggest authority. She had already decided on behalf of all of us. She took three packets of three in one coffee out of her bag immediately and walked towards the kitchen. Michael smiled like a little old dog. That was how he had coped with her dominant nature half of which seemed to have originated from love and desire to express her womanhood. I allowed her to be the best woman on earth. She made us coffee very motherly and served the cookies she had made.


“Teresa loves kitchen and she is a very good cook,” said Michael and smiled. And I admired them with regret. They had been married for forty-seven- years, they were almost seventy but their love was as young as seventeen.


I would have married to love of my life only if I knew what it meant to have a family like the one they had, only if I knew how…only if I knew that when I had the chance. I had never seen such a happy marriage or family in my entire life before. All I knew was how to push away someone or withdraw myself. And he was now so far away. Maybe with someone else. Maybe happy or maybe faking to be happy…I can feel he is not really happy and I know my feelings are true because he still texts me in my hardest time as if he feels it, too.


“Did you like my cookies,” asked Teresa after she had served her coffee.

“Delicious…everything you make is delicious,” I said to delight her and she was delighted.

“What is your secret,” I asked.

“I put love in everything I make my dear,” said she and Michael held her hand like a school boy.

I admired them with regret and heartache once again.








Why Do I Write?

I slept 12 hours. I wanted to meditate but that would send me back to sleep. So I washed my face with cold water, I looked at the mirror. I hardly remembered where I left myself yesterday, who I was planning to become, what did I become when I last stared at the mirror but I heard the same command over and over again.


“I nodded and opened my curtains.

“Oh God! SUN!  How beautiful, how sublime!” I exclaimed, standing in the balcony.

“WRITE!” exclaimed back sun. Write about me, write about my beauty!” said she.

I nodded once more and a big white bird sang in the sky and the little ones followed her chanting, craze of spring in the wings.

“Don’t forget to include us in your stories!” they begged.

I nodded once more and was about to walk back in. Three big mountains called me back.

“Hey, wait!” they yelled. I looked at them.

“We know how much you love us. It is not only you who look at us with grace and admiration in your eyes every morning , tell everyone how much we love them, tell them to look and see everything with love,” they said with no word.

I nodded again and was going to walk back in.


“Hey, you! Can I be the best looking homeless dog in your story?” asked a dog, standing by the big black gate with no one but a freedom with no boundary. Yes, humans’ love for animals was not yet commercialized in this land with lots of minarets.

“I love you doggy, you are the most aristocratic dog of the streets,” I said when the cat joined us and exclaimed while jumping from one roof to another.

“Meow!” said she naturally of course but I knew what she meant.

woman writing


“I know what you mean you, the freest bitch!” I said and smiled. And I finally walked in. Someone knocked on the door.

“I brought you tea and some pastries,” said my old womanizer neighbour. I knew what he meant, too, but I smiled. Though not so wide because he could easily twist my smile. He looked at me and expected me to invite him for breakfast. He was full of love but in trouble with his cock. I looked at him. He found it hard to control his cock and put his hand in his side pocket. And I knew what he did that for.

“I know what you mean, it is hard for men to have a pure love for women but I think yours is different…yours is some kind of disease…what did you do here on earth for all those years… how did you spend your life so carelessly…” I said in silence.

“WRITE!” commanded silence once again in his stare.

“Are you going to write today, too?” asked he, my hand on the red hot tea.

“Yes,” said I.

“I will go climbing today…you should join me one day…animals might inspire you, too,” suggested he, but I knew what he meant.

“Maybe,” I said and smiled but not so wide. That would drive his cock wild.

“Okay then,” said he and stepped back, still hoping to see me smiling like a child whom he could deceive with a candy.

“Enjoy your adventure with animals,” said I and I laughed but not so loud and not so apparent only inside. That would drive his cock wild.

I closed the door as he walked to his flat, already trying to console his crying cock.

“WRITE!” said the red hot tea and fresh pastries. I agreed without knowing what. I don’t think I was completely awake yet. I should have never slept that long. Maybe I should play some Arabic music; that might help, I thought to myself as I held the glass of tea by my upper lip.

“Oh no…what if he put something in it to make all his fantasies come true…no no I should no drink this,” I said to myself and poured it into the sink.

“Shame,” I said and smiled as I fed the birds with the fresh pastries in the balcony.

“Stop fooling around! Birds know how to hunt foods! Just WRITE!” whispered the trees; the dark green, light green, orangey green and yellowish green.

“You write to be immortal, don’t you?” asked the shadow of the lady, still standing in the balcony on my left.

“Fuck you woman! Why would I care whether I live in your fucking mind when I die or not…I am in an endless agony, which leaves me only when I write…it might kill me…I might die if I don’t write,” I said to her shadow.

“You write to get back to someone, don’t you?” said the old editor with big belly and little talent to write but insatiable appetite to criticize those who do, turning the possibly poisonous pastries into a TED stage. But none of the birds felt dizzy or fell on the ground yet. Maybe it was just me and my broken trust in my womanizer neighbour. Maybe they were really fresh pastries after all.

“Go fuck your big belly and your distorted mind, you idiot!” I shouted at the old editor and walked back in. I felt so good when I saw my next door whore in the opposite apartment as I closed the curtain. She tried to drive me insane but pathetically failed with her idiot fucker. She had to move to the other apartment where both of her next doors are policeman. Yes, she cannot fuck with them. Now she knows how to fuck quietly but sadly her coward fucker left her. She could have asked me how to fuck quietly before all that though.

“ARE YOU GOING TO WRITE or NOT?” asked dead authors in my shelf.

“Yes, I will but there is something in my head, it is like it is no longer my head …maybe first I should shout aimlessly…loud and with no aim just to pour out my never ending craze…or maybe stretch myself to the point where I could reach the mountains…or maybe I should have a shower with a very cold water until I scream…I don’t know my head does not feel like mine anymore…I know I am here to write…this is why I was sent to this earth no matter what any fucker thinks why I write…oh God! What shall I do to break this egg?”

I found it, I will play Arabic music and dance like a mad until I sweat …until I sweat like I used to when I was a cheap worker…no I am not trying to get back to anyone…but to myself… how did I blindly give away my power in those years…how did I ignore this divine voice when it was little…

Shaking belly is good, better than trying to understand nonsensical creatures around you…Try it but don’t try writing until you hear this constant command everywhere…