February 10, 1999

I am wakened by the approaching chatter of the early morning call to
prayer (sounding a bit like the fuss made by one of those cartoon balls
of fighting dogs and cats).  From the minarets of far away mosques, the
muezzins' cries ricochet through Istanbul's still dark alleys and
streets.  Seagulls, who have drifted up the hill from the Golden Horn,
squawk contentedly outside my window.  From somewhere down below, a
miserable dog joins into the pre-dawn ruckus, soon followed by the local
muezzin, whose amplified singing drowns out all the rest.  He reminds us
that God is great and that prayer is a whole lot more important than
sleep (at least that's what I've been told; he sings in Arabic).
Because my religion thinks more highly of sleep, I feel free to simply
listen, while gently trying to pull the warm blanket of sleep back over
me.  The  muezzin has a beautiful voice.  Its rise and fall stitches
itself into the edges of a dream (in which a former best friend and I
argue about the rules of a game of miniature golf) hanging just out of
reach.

Slowly, the banal calculations that fill my days begin to crowd their
way into my head.  It's about a quarter to six, I figure, which means
there's time for a bit of writing, or even Turkish vocabulary, before I
douse myself in the shower to full consciousness.  I remind myself of
the theory that one can write most freely while still intoxicated with
sleep (or just plain intoxicated), am immediately stricken with the fear
I am incapable of such freedom, take a look round my brain for something
worth writing about (find nothing), hypothesize about the advantages of
a quick dash into the hallway to turn on the gas heater (so that when I
really get up it will be reasonably warm out there), wonder if I really
do have enough stuff prepared to fill up the two hours of my English
lesson with Suleyman, conclude that all this thinking has probably made
any more sleep impossible, then (I realize later) fall back to sleep.

                               *     *     *

My new phone [(212) 292-6486] is hooked up and I have a new internet
server, which will make it much easier to keep in touch.  Hope to attack
that backlog of responses that are due.

Keep in touch.

Mark-O

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