ege's internet weblog

A few months ago I was reflecting on my need for a digital community:

I find myself once again yearning for a digital community. I believe the future of social media (for me) is some kind of invite-only group chat where the conversation flows like a river. It might live in Discord, Slack or even IRC, I don’t care. Physical community is important but as a millennial I need text-based friendships too.

Maybe I should have said hypertext instead of text-based. Hypertext is more than just text. Hypertext is images, links, pages… It’s the internet in its labyrinthine ways. This was also my thought process when I decided to start blogging on this domain, hypersubject.net. I was looking for a space where I can express myself, my subjectivity, via hypertext. Hence I merged the two: hypersubject.

Since creating hypersubject.net, I have been on a constant lookout for communities that I could participate in. I found a few in the wild.

I believe one should not make legible what depends on illegibility for its mere survival. The communities I list below, to the best of my knowledge, don’t depend on illegibility. They don’t really operate in public; all are either gatekept or have their own initiation processes to allow new members. However, if you think this post is exposing a community, let me know and I’ll take care of it.

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It was a packed weekend, so I couldn’t publish the weekly update on Sunday. Another one-day-late edition.

Fascism became a catch-all phrase for leftists to criticize their adversaries. It is a term that has a historical meaning, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistake of muddying the definition. By fascism I mean:

• consolidation of power in a single powerful leader,
• dismantling of all institutions to remove any safety brakes in the system,
• controlling a large part of the economy and corporations,
• ultranationalist rhetoric,
• cult of regenerative violence,
• separating society into two blocs: decent citizens and indecent others,
• cancelling elections or rendering them meaningless.

Today, Turkey is at high risk of being ruled by a proper fascist government. Out of the pillars of fascism that I listed above, four of the seven are firmly in place, two are forming:

• Erdogan was the strong authoritarian leader from the start in 2002; he reached the peak of his power in 2017 by changing the constitution after the failed coup d’état in 2016.
• Since 2008, all major institutions were either taken over or shut down. It started with the military, then the media, and lastly the whole legal system.
• The government controls many conglomerates directly, and others need to align themselves with it under the threat of otherwise being unable to do business.
• Nationalism is at a strange point right now. Between 2013 and 2024, government supporters were the primary nationalist group, with smaller groups on the opposition side as well. The balance changed after the government started peace talks with the Kurdish armed organization PKK. Today, there is a strong ultranationalist reaction against Kurds, especially on the opposition side. Erdogan is overseeing the whole resolution process with the PKK from a safe distance, so he still has room to maneuver and channel the reactionary nationalist sentiment for his own gain.
• I don’t think the violence is institutionalized, but cliques in the government are experienced in doing psyops through conventional and social media to amplify the bloodthirsty demands of radical groups (“slaughter all stray dogs”, “deport all the immigrants”).
• Erdogan and his AKP separate society into two: immoral atheist laics and decent Muslim conservatives.

In 2025, they started putting together the last pillar: no elections. It started with arresting the popular presidential candidate of the opposition, Imamoglu, the mayor of Istanbul, in March 2025. Last week, it reached its peak with removing the whole leadership of the main opposition party from their posts through legal shenanigans. Today, the risk of fascism is higher than ever.

We have been protesting every day since Friday. The numbers on the street were not huge—definitely lower than what we had when Imamoglu got arrested. Nevertheless, the bright side is that we didn’t give up; there are still people who care to resist. Is it going to be enough? I don’t think so. We desperately need something that can radically redefine the rules of the game, because we are losing the one Erdogan defined. As Hannah Arendt describes, totalitarian systems are capable of eventually restructuring reality to make it coherent with their goals. What we need in Turkey right now is a revolution—not the revolution as the locomotive of history as Marx puts it, but the Benjaminian revolution as the emergency brake.

Previously.

A few days ago I wrote that I want to make peace with the mundane. With that in mind, I decided to update the theme of my blog to a classic weblog format. The new theme is heavily inspired by jwz.org and simonwillison.net.

I have too many books, especially in digital form. Whenever a book piques my interest, I immediately seek it out, acquire it by any means possible, and at least read its table of contents. This of course results in piles of books that I will never manage to read. As my knowledge expands, the pile keeps getting bigger.

This is not an unknown phenomenon for knowledge seekers. Umberto Eco had a huge library, more than 30,000 books. Nassim Nicholas Taleb, in his book The Black Swan, describes Eco’s library as the antilibrary:

[Umberto Eco] separates visitors into two categories: those who react with “Wow! Signore professore dottore Eco, what a library you have! How many of these books have you read?” and the others – a very small minority – who get the point that a private library is not an ego-boosting appendage but a research tool.

Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. The library should contain as much of what you do not know …. You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you grow older, and the growing number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly. Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary.

In this sense, your library defines the borders of your knowledge. As your knowledge expands, your library grows in size. However, not every inch inside the borders is under your dominion. To exercise control over them, one needs to see them like a state. Just like the sovereign state holds censuses and fractures the land into taxable portions, the antilibrary needs to be indexed and cataloged. Not every pile of books is an antilibrary; most are just decor signaling knowledge.

I have been thinking about how to make use of my antilibrary for a long time. If I put on my engineering hat, I come up with these requirements:

• Having an up-to-date index of all books with accurate metadata
• Ability to perform full text search on all books or a subset
• Ability to reference search results by exact location in the book

Index and metadata management can be handled by Calibre, while full text search is handled by Recoll. I’ve started experimenting with these tools, but I find the user interface of Calibre very clunky and the search results in Recoll hard to parse. The engineer in me wants to build. But I don’t want to be the guy who starts learning LaTeX to write his doctoral thesis and ends up with no thesis and still no LaTeX.

#lazyweb, do you have any suggestions?

the biggest news of this week was definitely the exhibition at OtonomArt. after ~50 hours of work, it was so exciting to put Syzygy on display. it was also thrilling to see my name as the artist on the label.

i’m glad i photographed the sculpture after every session so i could see the gradual process. now, looking back, i find it eerie to look at the first photos. i created this thing from mud with my bare hands!

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one of the most eye-opening videos on youtube for me was anna p. foxen’s exoticizing the impossible, in which she talks about a common spiritual failure mode where the practitioner, being overfocused on the extraordinary, misses the beauty in mundane reality.

i was thinking about this in the context of my relationship with my blogging. i published over 30 posts in all three of my blogs this year. it’s a feat that i am proud of. but i still couldn’t manage to eliminate the friction of writing and publishing. i believe the most important task of the creative is to eliminate friction in creating. maybe quantity doesn’t guarantee quality but lack of quantity guarantees the impossibility of quality for sure.

what’s blocking me from publishing more? the easy answer is lack of time. i’m a busy person with a demanding day job, political duties and ambitions, hobbies, a wife whom i care about… of course, it’s not easy to find time to sit and write. i need at least an hour to write a 600-word, low-effort post. the problem with this excuse is that i know i can find the time.

the real problem is exoticizing the writing. drafts are piling up waiting for me to read three books for each. i am trying to make an elaborate argument tying together jung, land, hegel, lacan while preserving my dignity by not producing utter bullshit.

in the meantime there is a vast world of blogs where people write a few sentences about an article they read or a link they found interesting. they might be mundane but who could say that they are not the building blocks of something bigger? isn’t this the point cory doctorow was making few years ago?

maybe it’s time to make peace with the ordinary.

One day late reflection on the previous week.

Last weekend was so busy that I couldn’t find an hour to sit and write a few paragraphs. Yesterday, we had a Mother’s Day dinner with my in-laws (where did the morning go? who knows!). On Saturday, I watched my first ever American football game. My hometown team, the Halcyons, was playing against the ITU Hornets. Unfortunately we got our asses kicked by the Hornets, but it was fun either way!

On Friday, thanks to my $employer’s FryDay policy where we have a 4-day work week once each quarter, I spent 6 hours in the atelier sculpting. One thing that always surprises me about sculpting is how physically demanding it is. I rarely fall asleep on the couch, and Friday evening was one of those rare occasions. I started working on a new piece: this time I’m doing an (all) female torso.

I think these are all the things I can mention in the life-updates category. But I also want to share some links:

• My wordy webring neighbor Martha started a substack. From time to time I also think about starting one to be more “discoverable”. It happens especially after writing something that I’m proud of, so it’s no surprise to see her announcement after this post. Then I remember what competing for attention felt like on Twitter and say “no, thanks.” Also, I don’t know when or how it happened, but when I see a substack.com link I start to have the same kind of bodily feeling as when I see medium.com.
• Ironically, I will share a Substack link now, but this is not a mere substack — this is Astral Codex Ten. Scott wrote about taste and art, which I find related to what I obliquely described in Oblique Art.
• Lastly, I really enjoyed this essay questioning the meaning of home by Mikhail Minakov.

Contemporary art is often criticized for being extravagant, farfetched or nonsensical. You might think of the paintings and movies of David Lynch, sculptures of Miquel Barceló or even the banana (Comedian) of Maurizio Cattelan. They are definitely strange and hard to interpret, and in Cattelan’s case, give the finger to Art as an institutional practice. I have no problems with this kind of art. I don’t think the artist owes me any meaning. Even if the artwork seems straightforward, it is still too easy to misinterpret. My sculpting tutor made a sculpture of an anorexic girl with a VERY visible vagina and still, people keep thinking it’s a male…

However, I do have a problem with contemporary artists’ lack of courage. I keep seeing (and hearing!) a lot of artworks that are not too abstract but too vague. As if the artists struggled to accumulate the necessary conviction to breathe something of themselves into the work. This obliqueness of art makes me so frustrated. It feels like the artist hides behind the foggy landscape of the present where meaning is either too atomic to be interpreted by anyone but the artist or too high-level for anyone to hold all its significance at once. It seems to me that oblique art is neither, but an epitaph of the artist’s cowardice.

Last week I went to a concert to listen to a violin concerto composed by a friend of mine. I’ve never had the chance to listen to any of his works. I had high expectations because of the praise I had heard about him and the overall aura of his very likable presence.

(He is not aware of this blog and I don’t think he’ll ever read this. E, if you are, I’m sorry.)

Then I heard the same obliqueness in his concerto.

Before the concert there was a pamphlet with a long exposition about the composition. I found it very odd because, of all art forms, music is the one that requires the least amount of exposition. Of course it’s not that easy to tell a story just with music, but it opens such a direct channel with the listener that the story does not need to be told for music to bloom into emotions.

Then it started. For a minute or two, the violin didn’t even make any sound. We waited awkwardly, watching the violinist sway and tremble while the contrabasses in the orchestra smirked at each other. After a time that felt like an eternity, we heard a few notes from the violin. It was a good melody! Alas, it didn’t last long. Then the orchestra started to hum a very ambient sound. Everything sounded like the white noise tracks I listen to while I read. This all lasted for almost 45 minutes; here and there, the orchestra abruptly made sharp noises which felt like jumpscares. At one moment, I opened my notes app and wrote “are we in a David Lynch movie?” to show my wife. The out-of-placeness of everything definitely felt like a David Lynch movie, but unfortunately not like watching one, but being trapped in one.