December 28, 2025, Sunday.
Kimball, Nebraska.

The mornings of the cold season are hungover. If you look at its face, it gives you the feeling that it’s going to throw up. It doesn’t refrain from throwing up anyway: one day rain, one day snow; every day mud, every land.

I woke up in Northern Indiana on Saturday morning and drove to Illinois. As soon as I crossed the border, I bought potato börek and ayran from a Bosnian food place. Topped off with a slice of chocolate cake, along with a glass of tea.

When I arrived at the parking lot of the company I work for, they changed my truck. I left the swaying Volvo there, grabbed my stuff into a beast of a Kenworth there, and continued on my way with this vehicle.

So my excuse for being late was ready as well. And on Tuesday morning, I delivered the sausages two hours late to Cervantes in Calexico. Frankly, Cervantes didn’t even care. The biggest concern of the old uncle working there was whether I wanted the inside of the trailer washed after they took the sausages. If I said wash it, the uncle would make 45 dollars.

I asked our company, they said the sausage probably made the trailer stink anyway, so he might as well wash it. We made the uncle happy.

After the delivery, I grabbed a bite from In N Out in El Centro and drove to Zuma for the pick up. I had two stops in Zuma, lettuce would be loaded from one, and mixed vegetables from the other. There were too many trucks waiting in line at the lettuce place. For this reason, my loading was completed late at night. We had to wait for the morning at the second stop.

After the rest of the load was loaded in the morning, I finally set off to the North West. I delivered the load to the Fred Meyer Distribution Center in Puyallup, Washington at 2 am on Friday morning, Thursday night.

On the road, all the left-side lights of my dear Kenworth went out. I even went to a mechanic in all that rush, but when the mechanic said the job would take a long time, the repair work got postponed. Because I had to pick up a load from Lineage in Richland, Washington on Friday evening. We weren’t supposed to be late, we weren’t supposed to miss it. We could supposedly lose an important customer, and also if this load got canceled, I’d probably have to lay around doing nothing for an undesirably long time over there due to the holiday/vacation. This is a loss for the company, and a loss for me too.

So for two days now, in the snow and winter, in the dark of the night, I’ve been driving with only my right headlight on. Luckily, I haven’t encountered a cop who made a problem out of it yet. Maybe they also think I couldn’t find a mechanic during the holidays, and are being tolerant.

Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming are left behind. Now I am in Nebraska. After this, there is Iowa too. Then Illinois again.

Normally, the customer for the load I’m carrying right now is in Nashville. To change the truck, I’m extending my route by 3 hours and stopping by Illinois.

It’s very easy and very short when writing it like this, but the stress I’ve been experiencing for days is definitely not just these paragraphs. You stay sleepless, you drive to the mechanic, the mechanic doesn’t care, you lose time, the stress of whether I’ll be late for the pick up, the stress of whether I’ll lose money, the stress of whether the cops will say something, the pressure from the broker, the pressure from the safety department; the boss wanting to hold you responsible if you get fined, the boss wanting to hold you responsible if you’re late…

I already made threats implying I’d quit the job how many times again. “I’m not firing you man, I’m not firing you,” they say. It’s the holiday season, at least 15 drivers left their trucks and went to their families. They don’t want even one driver to quit the job right now. Then they need to leave me alone a bit.

My dad died. My mom is next in line. If my mom dies too, there’s no one left behind that I have to look after. Then I can say fuck your job and your load and quit the job with peace of mind, tell them to fuck off and go wherever I want to go.

Where is the place I want to go? There are so many places. Küçük Park in Bornova to reminisce about the old days; the Dominican Republic to make love cheaply; Kreuzberg, Berlin to meet expat rappers.

If I don’t die before my mom dies, I will start actually living after my mom dies. But sometimes I don’t have enough patience. I want to pull the trigger and leave this world. What’s there anyway? There’s shit. It’s a shitty life. The mountains are shitty, the seas are shitty; the songs are shitty, the movies are shitty; the men are shitty, the women are shitty; I am shitty too and actually, I am the shittiest one of all anyway.

Shh, shh calm down Control your nerves

Is that possible? Life is very beautiful. The sky is very beautiful, the earth is very beautiful; Simge Sağın is very beautiful, Cem Adrian is very beautiful; Sabahattin Ali is very beautiful, Kemal Sunal is very beautiful; Özlem Gürses is very beautiful, Vaslav Çerni is very beautiful; I am beautiful too and actually, I am the most beautiful one of all anyway.

There you go. When I’m in a good mood, it’s like this. When I lose my mood, it’s unfortunately the paragraph above. Let’s hope none of us lose our mood too much. May everything be beautiful, may we all see beautiful days together.

The wives murdered by the killers who got out of prison with the politicians’ uncalled-for amnesties will not see the sun rising tomorrow. It shouldn’t be this hard to not show the light of day to those who prevent beautiful eyes from seeing the sun.

Let women not die. So they can eat candy too.

Write it on three columns with pitch-black screaming fonts: Fanzine miswi turner pedophile, is still continuing to be a “Meriç” (white knight).

(see: We Will Stop Femicide Platform)