hello butterfly

Smack in the middle of dreary routines and meaningless actions, it hit you. So fluid and sudden you didn't even realize it at first, you were just caught in the music and you sang along, danced a little to the tune, and before you could say hello, it hit you full-force, swept you off your feet.

The tornado of feeling, the sudden surge of sensation, so new yet familiar, took you to the past but only briefly, because your new found sanity guarded you oh so protectively.

But that glimpse was more than enough. More, and it could be harmful. Just one little gesture that justified those tossing and turning on depressing sleepless nights, an itch so disturbing no amount of vodka could cure.

And in a split second it happened. No bells ringing, no alarm of any kind. It was just there, an opportunity for you to grab, without prologues or further explanations. All you needed to do was absorb, with childlike openness and soak the moment.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the best kind of high.

w is for what the f?

Wondering not so discreetly, why incredibly stupid people actually are running this so-called advanced capitalist society. I'm not asking for compassionate people, or even nice. I'm merely asking for competent people doing what they are supposed to be doing, so I could be spared 5 hour long meeting with utterly confused people, who hide their incompetence by unstoppable chatters, yapping and yapping as if their mouths suffered from severe case of diarrhea.

People, really, get over yourself!

an inflammable disposition

she bubbled in childish excitement, over things, silly things, they didn't matter
spontaneous actions, words, she didn't think them over, she was just in this light pink mood, as sweet as cotton candy

she didn't mean anything

but something, something other than her was bothering him, eating him up, igniting him
and he burst into flame, so red, so hot, the anger burned quickly, tongue of fire was licking her from down to the top of her head

hear her, she crackles she burns, she burns...

you see, she was built like that, inflammable, combustible

you see, there is no technology to revive the residue of fire

they just turn to ashes, black

my perfect love, murakami style

"I'm looking for selfishness. Perfect selfishness. Like, say I tell you I want to eat strawberry shortcake. And you stop everything you're doing and run out and buy it for me. And you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortcake out to me. And I say I don't want it anymore and throw it out the window. That's what I'm looking for."

Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami

ennui

the best way to describe it is like being trapped at home during bad economic condition, watching reruns of shows about self-made problems, erupting from bad judgments, imaginary ailments, anxiety attacks and the likes.

and somehow, fate decides that the TV cannot be switched off.

so the characters are happily floating on screen, cocooned in their ignorance, celebrating daily stupidity until something rather predictable hit them in the face and boom, their worlds explode and they are left decapitated, wailing in pain and disbelief.

what can you expect from a nation suffering from severe inability to connect two things together, to look at matters and draw logical conclusions rather than being sucked in moronic euphoria.

apologize for being desperately gloomy. it's the beginning of the rainy season and with it comes the accompanying depression.

somebody should kill the TV now.

how to not be frozen

ah, shallow people, bitter people, chewing into your soul like termites. a phone call, an email, a message through a friend, the dreaded can you please take care of my life, it's turning your heart cold.

you were raised good. you have values. you take care of things. you manage. little by little. you do what you need to do. give what you need to give. take what you have earned. you live an honest, if not much, life. you get on okay. until they show.

and it's becoming a lot harder not to be frozen. imagery of solitary living. nothing expected of you. nothing, only you and nothingness. and it's becoming a lot harder not to like being frozen.

ah, weepy people. the way they march into life unthinking, then caught unprepared, it's maddening. and then there's you, minding your own little business, you are suddenly exposed to their nakedness. and it's making your blood boils. and the rage brings you shame. you are ashamed. of being mad. of being reluctant to reach out.

ah, the accusation. of being selfish. while to you, selfish is subjecting others to business that clearly is not of their interest. selfish is wandering through life unaware of consequences. selfish is expecting others to pick up the pieces.

but above all else, you know how hatred could bring you to the darkest place. so you grit your teeth. and you order that double drinks. the warmth that goes through your throat eventually reaches your heart and unfreezes it, peels off the icy hatred layer by layer.

and you are grateful that you're a drunk.

lucky to forget

Rewind a few years back, to the days when I used to wake up with a blank, I am lucky to forget.
A prayer to my ear now, a lovely good night kiss, God how lucky I am to forget.
It might still be on the back of your mind, whether I give up on too much, but let me tell you now, it wasn't all that much to give up on because it wasn't much at all. It was birth then the gap then you then it will always be you. And everything else, let me tell you once again, I am so truly lucky to forget.

on turning mid thirties

My belated birthday resolutions:

I have decided to be more childlike
I will not hesitate to laugh
I will love fiercely and passionately
I will smile a lot more and a lot more sincere
I will not be angry as much
I will go to see new places
I will open up myself more
I will try forgive or at least forget
I will party like there's no tomorrow
and last but not least
I will never, ever feel old even when I get to be 100

Thanks hubby dear for the best 3-day birthday bash ever: bali-sunset-kudeta- martini-bacio-champagne-good friends-good laugh-warung melati-rossovivo-doublesix-and the greatest drunken conversation ever!

happy belated birthday to me... bottoms up!

Somebody told me

her friend told her
that her boyfriend's wife
is cheating with her friend's boyfriend
so she told her boyfriend
who also knew the friend
whose boyfriend is cheating with his wife
so she, her friend and her boyfriend
spend the evenings talking about her boyfriend's wife and her friend's boyfriend
while being really, really careful
for their husbands not to find out that she has a boyfriend and her friend has a boyfriend
and that her boyfriend's wife is cheating her friend's boyfriend

.............................................................................................................

dedicated to a girl friend who lives her life the way I used to live before I live this life.

Shangri-La

The urban people, handicapped from detachment and loneliness, long for a place of eternal peace. So they travel far and wide, to the highest mountain just a notch below the clouds, looking for that perfect spot, a place where one could just sit outside on that day when the sun comes out, smoking and talking, pacifying the eternally restless soul.

The mountain people, handicapped from ignorance and poverty, long for a place of progress. When they dream at night, they dream of speaking other languages, of surviving illnesses, of having the luxury to choose their paths. They dream of that perfect day, the day when the sun comes out, when one could set out on a long journey to betterment.

Could it be that place is not what we need to search for?

Gotta gotta be down

Gotta get a move, gotta get out here, gotta change, gotta think, gotta challenge myself
Gotta see what's on the other side, gotta accept, gotta be grateful, gotta be happy, gotta be thankful
Gotta be good, gotta be bad, gotta evoke, gotta inspire, gotta let go, gotta accept, gotta dream, gotta forget
Gotta feel good about myself, gotta live by principles, gotta learn new principles, gotta be tolerant, gotta be tough, gotta be easy

One day you'll learn

The next person comes is even crazier
The next person comes is even stupider

And there's nothing you can do about it

So I suggest you do what I do
Fix your drink a little stronger and suck it up like a real pro
And laugh, laugh a little, laugh a lot, laugh at them, laugh at yourself

Don't be too caught up in this little melodrama called life
Because nobody ever gets out of it alive anyway.

Closing Time

Those were the times when the days gone wild
ditching the crowd to kiss in the dark
Remember the blackness never seemed too dark
because your eyes made such a spark?

Those were the songs that we used to dance to
arms in arms the way we used to do
whispering lots of sweet nothings
swaying all the way till beginning of the morning
we were all things, then nothing

Remember how we lived carelessly
how we loved recklessly
Those were the times
when we were simultaneously dead and so alive

Now that closing time is approaching
We smooth our hairs and pack our credit cards
Get on with life and never look back
Although it’s best for us not to forget, we should only get wiser

the story of tigress

She was the first female to rule the jungle. Before her, female leaders were unheard of. She took the jungle by storm, with her remarkable intelligence and fierce determination. Tigress knew almost everything including the most useless trivia. She spoke the languages of other animals fluently and one of her habits was to insist that every animal in her kingdom spoke correctly. It is, according to her, a sign of strength and intelligence. She frowned upon grammatical errors and was forever correcting mistakes of others, regardless of the situation, which more than often led to embarrassing situations.

Her children knew this only too well. They all had their share of awkward situations whereby their friends, on visits to the tigress residence, had been stopped mid-sentence to be corrected gramatically. This usually led to silent moments, faces turned bright red, followed by murmuring of awkward thank yous, eyes averted and after tinkering with the glass or emitting unnecessary coughs, their friends usually got up and left. They rarely returned.

This left the children exasperated. They begged their mother to act normal, but Tigress told them off. You should only be ashamed of your ignorance, never of your knowledge. And it is the duty of the more gifted minds to teach and correct the weaker ones. Her children secretly disagreed. For them those with more gifted minds should use their minds to think of better ways to impart knowledge, ways that did not involved belittling others. But they never voiced out their disagreement. Tigress had strong views on genetic segregation. She believed some species were simply born with better genes, therefore they were equipped to rule the world. She did not believe talent and hardwork alone were enough for anyone to excell. Tigress believed that her children were born better than others and they should forever made that clear to everyone. Do not let others tell you what to do, Tigress always said. You were born special and you would rule the world. You were different than the mediocres out there.

Strangely none of her children felt special. True, they did not fit in. Others either respected or feared them. When they were little they used to express their discomfort of the situation but Tigress had been far from understanding. Original minds never fit in. Another Tigress philosophy.

The truth is, her children were tired of having to act special when deep down they knew they were no different than other animals. They had their strengths and weaknesses just like every other creature in the planet. They simply wanted to belong.

And Tigress, despite her brilliant mind, had failed to understand this simple need. She was too busy shaping her children to be distinct animals. She taught them languages, science, maths, astronomy and religion. But she had failed to teach them how to embrace life.

There had been no wind the day Tigress died. Every animal in her kingdom came in tears. They feared the future without their powerful leader. No one could match her. She was simply too extraordinary.

They all wept and praised her greatness.

All except her own children who left the jungle and never looked back.

Missing Person Alert

My child had gone missing but I am not sure for how long. She might have been gone for a long time without me realizing it. It just hit me one day when I suddenly felt like I had done something wrong but not sure what...have you experienced that kind of feeling? It's a bit scary.

So I started to recall the past weeks of my life and I realized that each day was not that different from others, and at some point I realized with a jolt that my child, Passion, had gone missing. She was nowhere to be seen.

I frantically began searching for her. I contacted the local authorities. They asked gruelling questions like when was the last time I saw her? Why didn't I put any attention on her? How on earth a mother like me could completely forgot I had a child?

They upset me, the authorities. I despise people who act like they know better. Do they know how hard it is to notice anything when you walk down the very same road every day for the past thirty odd years of your life? Sure there are new buildings emerged here and there and the air is getting stickier, but the overall feelings you get when you take each single step on that very same road, they never change. It's the same dull, nagging feeling telling you that you are simply trapped.

In the early days, I remember Passion used to bounce up and down the street with me. Her presence gave me sparks in the inside. Those were the days when I felt the world was my oyster. But do that repeatedly. Do the same thing over and over again and it gets to you. Soon, the only thing you notice is your own weariness. That must have been the time when Passion slipped out, silently, while I was wallowing in my own bitterness.

And those pompous authorities, they looked at me disdainfully. Passion is a living being, they said. You can't just ignore her and expect her to stick around. She needed encouragements, attentions, she needed your focus. You need to nurture her. Ignite her.

I didn't argue. I knew it was a lost cause. Just like every other mishap in my life, I had only myself to blame. Nobody thought bad of Passion because she deserted me. They all blamed me for being so inattentive and unfocus that I drove her away.

I miss Passion I really do. Now that I've realized she's no longer by my side I think about how everything would be different with her around. The same street that I have to walk up and down everyday, it doesn't change, but with Passion I could walk on it without the heavy pressure on my chest like I have now. The walk would be a much, much lighter walk.

Passion if you can hear me, do come home to me.

I'd cook you a nice dinner and we could sit on the porch with mugs of hot cocoas and the world would taste as sweet again.

2 August 2008

The World and You Tonight - Simply Red

Don't rush around
The world will wait for you
And too much time is lost
On all the things we have to do
There's nothing more important baby
Right now than you and me
So come a little closer darling
And turn the lights down low a key
And life could be so wonderful
A perfect home and a family
When you're lying next to me
I'm everything I want to be
With the world and you tonight
With the world and you tonight
With you my love
The world's a better place
And every day with you
Will hold a treasured memory
Your embrace could steal me forever
And nothing else matters
When I hold you in my arms
And life could be so wonderful
A perfect home and a family
'cos you are everything to me
I'm the lock and you're the key
To the world and me tonight
To the world and me tonight
It's the world and you tonight
You are my world
With the world and me tonight

you're still the one

I thought I was going to put it all behind
and join the monetary pursuit of the middle-class
but I was back there and felt the wind in my cropped hair
and the memory came flooding back as I held a cold beer in my hand
those days of perfect sunsets
of lying in the sands engaged in great drunken conversations
the perfect cure to life's crippling depression
It dawned on me that it was the only place that made perfect sense to me
My magical beach, would you wait for me?
In my heart I know I need nothing else but a little love, a little smoke and a little pick-me-up
All the talks about personal glory, money gained, money lost, status earned, reputation destroyed, they don't matter to me
I just want to watch the sun sets,
contended in the knowledge that I'm alive and I love and I am loved.

extraordinary person of the day

A month of dry spell. I was terribly uninspired. And was about this close to give up on humanity. I mean come on, mothers giving their children stale bread covered in fungus? I understand if it happens in Africa, but people, look around! Here we have the sea, it has fishes, and technically almost everything grows in our land. I don't know what to blame really. Our country reeks of ignorance and laziness.

But this morning I saw a glimpse of hope. I was in the middle of a traffic jam and there was this bajaj. It was just an ordinary bajaj. But it had an extraordinary driver. The driver was an old man, probably about 60 and he was dressed to the nines. Unlike other bajaj drivers who usually don on dirty torn tshirts and a hundred year old faded pants, this man clearly took his time grooming himself in the morning. He wore a peach colored long-sleeved shirt, buttoned up, with black pants and a matching belt. His hair was cut short and combed nicely. He looked nothing like a bajaj driver. If not for the fact that he drove the vehicle, he could easily pass as an executive.

I found this man remarkable. It showed that he was proud of himself. He made an effort on his appearance, a sure sign of someone appreciative of life and its potentials. I bet that when life hits the hardest, this man will put on his best suit and face the challenge in style. And he would survive. He won't be feeding his children fungi bread. Because he's a dignified man. And I found how dignity is something easily lost around here.

Mr Bajaj Man, you are simply wonderful! Thank you for making my day.

bye bye bubble

I am so not in the creative mood but a very good advice from a professor in my college years suddenly submerge from my subconscious so I decided to share it here. The advice is simple:

- break the bubble -

We all live inside our bubbles. It's our comfort zone. If we insist on safely staying inside the bubble all the time, not only will we become boring motherfuckers, we will also develop narrow mindedness, chronic stupidity and in time we will turn into full-blown judgmental, non-creative, incompetent assholes.

So break the bubble. Do things that you're not used to. See what it's like for other people.

Bookworms, ditch your books and take drugs.
Sluts, celibate.

You get the picture.

For me, I found the exercise liberating. Granted it was risky at times but it helped me survive even the toughest challenge in life. And the good thing was, it helped me to empathize more and eventually I stopped hating people so much. Except for, well, people who take advantage of others and people who judge. Most amazingly, it turned on a switch in my brain which enables me to grasp a better understanding of things.

So it's one of the few things I promise I will keep on doing to my self. I'll keep on breaking the bubble.

unintelligent girlie musing

My best friend is in Prague. Next destination Buenos Aires.
I told her: lucky bitch.
She told me: you're the lucky bitch, you have a lovely man to come home to.

True enough.

So I made another wish.

I want that job AND a lovely man to come home to.

Instead of

Protesting pointlessly in front of the parliament building about the price increase of gasoline
Beating up people whose religious views differ to yours
Bitching about every single thing that does not work in this country

Why don't you

Read books, browse the net, talk to the experts, find God

So you could

Invent alternative for gasoline or at least, invent your own unique way to save on gasoline
See the world in a different perspective
Think of how to make things actually work in this country

Here's what I think

Intellectuals in this country need to complain less and invent more.
At least invent a unique positioning for oneself.
Like that famous little half breed girl who speaks with an accent created an edge for herself. How many 14-year olds could have their stupid remarks turned into a ring tone? She won't need to worry about price increase.

So I beg you fellow countrymen and women,

j u s t s h u t u p

the story of honesty

A long time ago in a land far far away, there lived a little girl named Honesty. She was a plain looking girl with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue, a result of her extraordinary condition, her inability to see colors. Honesty saw everything only in solid black and white. Half of the people in her village, she saw as white. And she was warm towards them. The other half she saw as black, and these were the people she often was hostile to. When she was just a small baby, she would throw things at them. By the time she was able to speak, she extended her form of hostility into words, making mean remarks that often offended people. Once she saw somebody as black, nobody could persuade her otherwise.

Only 20% of the population in her village that Honesty saw as white. Among them were her parents and grandparents. The local priest was black to her. So she refused to go to Sunday service and nobody could make her.

"Honesty, the man is a holy man, he is our priest,"said her mother
"He has a black soul," replied Honesty
"Nobody can see soul,"
"I can."

Her mother made her father carry her to the church on his back, for her mother was concerned that her little girl's soul was possessed. Honesty screamed all the way to the church, kicking and fighting so hard, that her father gave up midway. He let her down and decided that he would not be concerned with anything regarding Honesty's soul anymore.

Until the age of 8, Honesty lived as she wished. Warm to the people she saw at white and hostile to those whom she saw as black. Despite her parents frustrations, it was a satisfying life for her. It all started to change two days after Honesty turned 8.

She woke up in the morning and her face turned white as if she had seen a ghost while all she saw was only her mother. She stayed like that the whole morning and refused to speak to anyone. Her mother dismissed the strange behaviour as another one of the child's antiques. But she continued to remain silent for the whole week. The second week something strange happened to her, as she lost her cognitive, motor and language skill. Her father called the village doctor but the doctor was not in, he had gone to help deliver a baby in the next village. By the time the doctor came almost 24 hours later, Honesty was gone. Her mother refused to have a postmortem examination. She concluded that Honesty had been born with severe mental illness and this was what had killed the child. They buried the child. Only 20% of the village people whom Honesty had seen as white attended the funeral. The rest were secretly glad that the sharp tongue girl had gone.

But the doctor, a respectable gentleman who was quite fond of the sharp girl because of her straightforwardness, was suspicious of the death. As a doctor, he knew that there had been nothing wrong with Honesty physically. She had been a very strong and healthy girl. She had had a special condition but it had done no harm to her physical health. He appealed to Honesty's parents to have a postmortem, but the idea left the mother hysterical. The father was indifferent. He was almost glad that the disturbed child had gone.

One night, unbeknown to anyone, the doctor dug up Honesty's grave and performed a postmortem. He found that the girl had had heavy metal poisoning. He knew that Honesty had been hated by 80% of the village population but it would take a very cruel heart to poison a child, especially when all she had done was shouting mean things.

The doctor thought long and hard about what he should do with his discovery. Finally he decided to put the matter to rest because to bring it into open would bring consequences for him. He had after all dug up Honesty's grave without permission. The good doctor wept for Honesty and prayed that whoever had killed the child would burn in hell in all eternity.

The doctor buried the child and left the cemetery shaking. Not more than ten minutes later, Honesty's mother arrived, tears in her eyes. She kissed the soil on Honesty's grave and said,

"Forgive me my child, but in life there is no such thing as black and white."

A hand touched Honesty's mother shoulder. She looked up and found the village priest smiled warmly towards her. Honesty's mother stood up, only to fell on his arms and they kissed, passionately.

hollow people

driving down the street at 7 AM
cursing the traffic trying to get behind the desk before 9 AM
switching on the computer making coffees trying to stay awake in the meeting that lasts until 11 AM
then it's a one-hour lunch break extended to two, browsing the mall looking at discounts buying silly things nobody needs
then it's back to the office, forwarding chain emails to friends and colleagues, the one about the growth of antichrist
another meeting, repeating smart things other people said just to make a contribution
or when feeling adventurous, challenging obvious things just for the sake of looking sharp
when really if there's an Xray to the brain, what is seen would only be ------------------


I despise them, these hollow people
strip them off their corporate fanciness and you have nothing. not a thing.
give me beach bums with their weeds and their stinky dreadlocks anyday.

it happens

like many before me
I too have lost my way
in my quest for happiness
I realized I knew nothing at all
so I stopped searching
and I started walking
and suddenly it happened to me
and I know now that I do know
the answer to it all

it's when I welcome the unfamiliar
it's when I smile to strangers
it's when I keep an open heart
it's when I love no matter what

it's when I let happiness happens

chaya says

passion is the best feeling
jealousy is the worst
patience is the best virtue
positive mind is the greatest skill

accountability test

You encounter problems with your satellite TV. You call the 24 hour hotline service and you are greeted with the ever so friendly voice mail saying thank you for calling, your call is important to us however our operators are busy taking other calls so will you please be kind to hold the line. You wait and wait and wait. When the almighty operator finally does take your call, he or she seems to be such in a hurry to take other calls that he or she only informs you curtly that a technician will come to your house without listening to the problem. And the technician never comes. You call again the next day and you experience the same scenario and the technician never comes. You call again and the operator says the problem lies in the technical department and that he or she in the customer service department is not accountable.

You fly a reputable national airline. You specifically choose the airline eventhough the price is slightly higher because you want a hassle-free trip. You are not allowed to bring liquid to the cabin so you slap the fragile sticker on you box which contains four bottles of rare, pure honey from the forest and specifically asks for the package to be handled with care. You arrive in your destination to find that one bottle is smashed. You file a complaint. The officer beats around the bush and says that it probably happens during landing and that if that is the case then the ground staff is not accountable.

Then who's accountable?

Apparently people you have no access to.

You bite your tongue and you sit on the porch, telling yourself that this is just the thrills of living in the country where things don’t work. Then you hear someone speaking loudly from a loudspeaker, apparently some religious leader in a mission to inspire. He says that there is only one true god to worship and that when you stand up when you hear the national anthem playing or when the president enters the room, then you are performing an act of worshiping human and human creation and that is a sin that will see you burn in hell in all eternity.

Stupid people multiplication alert!

Who the fuck is accountable for that?

Apparently people you have no access to.

sapardi, beautifully

aku ingin mencintaimu dengan sederhana
dengan kata yang tak sempat diucapkan
kayu kepada api yang menjadikannya abu

aku ingin mencintaimu dengan sederhana
dengan isyarat yang tak sempat disampaikan
awan kepada hujan yang menjadikannya tiada

the sleeping boy

Once upon a time there was a little boy who was forever asleep. Since the day he was born he never woke up. His eyes were forever closed and his breathing was forever sound because never did he enter the state of wakefulness. Only once during the course of his life did he give a little stir. His mother waited in anticipation, but the boy merely stirred and he continued sleeping.

He was forever asleep because he was conceived during the war and the explosive sound from the outside world was thoroughly frightening for him that he opted to surrender to the unconsciousness.

Over the years it was discovered that the sleeping boy had a power. That whoever came in contact with his bodily fluid would fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. His mother who, although loved him dearly, at times could not hide her disappointment of having such a disabled son, decided that it was not wrong at all to make a profit out of his son’s special power. So his mother bottled his bodily fluid and sold it to those with sleeping disorder. One drop of this sleeping substance guaranteed eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Through grapevines, a solid client base was formed. Intellectuals, law enforcements, tradesmen were her regular buyers. The boy’s mother became a wealthy woman.

One day a worn down woman came to see the boy’s mother. She was the wife of a very honorable person who worked for the government. She came weeping, for her dear husband had been philandering. The husband would tiptoe out of their bedroom every night to sleep with young girls, sometimes two at a time. She could not do anything to stop it for fear that she would be thrown out on the streets because he was the sole breadwinner. Her only hope was the sleeping substance that would guarantee her husband sleeping soundly at night.

The trick worked for some times. Until one day the husband found out that he had been sedated. He was so angry. He charged into the sleeping boy’s room, knocking the mother out of the way, carried the sleeping boy on his shoulder and threw him into the open fire. The boy burned to death.

His mother was utterly devastated that she lost her source of income. Certain that she could give birth to another sleeping boy, she slept with the first sailor she crossed path with. And nine months later, she gave birth to a boy who never slept.

the divine secrets of the lychee martini sisterhood

Somewhere between endless chats and tarot card readings, I looked around and found beautiful eyes looking back at me with camaraderie so strong it sent shivers down my spine. Was it fate that we were all together at those moments to share the glitz of the city whenever the sun was down?

We each held our martini glasses, bleary-eyed from too much toxic and laughter, as the clock turned and before we realized it was past midnight it was time to kiss our drunken goodbyes. And we parted, till the following night, plans hatched in internet chats and phone messages and in no time we strolled the city, beer and karaoke night screaming out songs of heartbreak and rolling on the floor laughing, or we would sit pretty with a glass of wine, stuffing nachos down keeping the conversation up, or it could be dancing up the stage barefoot with reckless abandon and when the lights were finally on we disposed ourselves into the nearby 24 hour chicken porridge stall.

Somewhere between flirting with the bartender and being stood up on dates, we found each other. And I hope it would glue us together, no matter where we part.

(for my gals)

Loving You

there will come a day
when i will stop questioning
and serenely accept
that my imperfection is perfectly your plan
that my misfortunes are designed just so
as preludes to a grand achievement somewhere somehow
that your non answer is because you want me to learn about discovery
that the evil i see is part of a grander scheme
that a baby must die of hunger
that people crush each other for what they call devotion
poverty, corruption, power play, deceit, dark negative forces
must be there as hidden blessings to someone somewhere somehow
and that i should stop worrying
about what i do, where i go, what i achieve
and that i should only love and love and love despite everything
because when i love passionately i will only have time for love
and i will spend my energy only to love
and i will have nothing left to hate not even a nanosecond
there will come a day
when i no longer feel dirtier than sin
and that i will love you so severely
with the kind of love like that of mary magadalene's

cuelho moment

the best example to follow is that of a child,
for a child is happy for no reason,
for a child is always busy
for a child shows persistence and determination
in demanding the thing it wants
for a child is very quick to stop crying

after one too many

beers I realized
growing up I was told many a lie
they said
if I saved money I would be rich
hard work would bring me success
kind gestures would be rewarded
I found
admin fee ate my savings
hard work and income were on different platforms altogether
and those I helped took advantage of me
sincerety had gone
buried with the truth about history
and what’s right was what was approved by the big guy
before he was replaced by an even bigger guy
I was told that if at first I don’t succeed, I must try and try and try again
I found
that with no talent it was totally useless to even try
that everything had been predestined
that unless I was lucky to be granted the genes of fabulosity
I would merely be a common people

Food Lovers

I had one that resembles Italian food. Meat, tomato, cheese and mushrooms kiss each other passionately inside a creamy blanket. Too rich, too strong, too much of everything that one bite too many left me bloated, bewildered, almost bulimic. I wish I hadn’t eaten that.

I had one that resembles American fast food. Fat buns with chubby meaty burger, decorated with a limp lettuce and sorry looking pickles. Too cheap, too greasy, too corny, I felt like the fattest girl on the block. Why the hell did I eat that?

I had one that resembles Japanese sashimi. Tastes like a million dollar. But no matter how much I ate, I felt like I hadn’t eaten anything. Too fat-free, too chic, too bland, too empty. Really, I should’ve eaten something else.

I had those that resemble meals from eateries that shouldn’t be allowed to open in the first place because their foods are so bad they’re bordering on poisonous. I must’ve been crazy to even try them.

Then I met you.

A home-cooked meal so wholesome and warm and simply lovely. A delicious simplicity that stand above the zest of hawker foods, or the glamour or world-class cuisines.

It’s like a meal that warmly greets me in the morning.
It’s like a meal that patiently awaits me after a busy day.
It’s the loveliest form of comfort food.
It’s what recharges me.
It’s the kind that makes me feel complete.

Dedicated to you, who handle my psychotic moments like a pro!

tao on sanity

you are demons

you are darkness

your soul is at stake

dissipation is the threat

don't surrender the key

your soul is light
just dissolve

a heartfelt eulogy

I first knew Valentine when I was eleven years old. It was the years when the girls made pink cards for the boys and the boys took the girls to the movie and the girls were as sweet as the syrupy sugary drinks and the boys kissed the girls and the girls giggled and felt like the most beautiful things in the world.

I am sad to say that despite our rosy beginning, Valentine and I had gone estranged over the years. The main reason is because Valentine never changed. She stayed bubbly and cheerful in her pinkish innocence, she kept bouncing in a life filled with froth, thick chocolaty pleasure and soft toys.

Whereas I had witnessed black holes. I had looked directly into the ripped open soul of the devil himself. I had drunk from his cup and I witnessed how cruel human beings could be to one another. I was there when the tree cried. I was there when the wind wept. I was there when hunger corrupted even the most sincere soul.

I found that I am living in a world where everything is for sale, even love. Especially love. Valentine opted to close her eyes and I opted to open mine.
I see coldness in the general's heart.
I see fear in the soldier's eyes.
I see vanity in the pretty people's soul.
I see despair in the ugly ones.
Incompetence rules.
Freedom is for those who can afford or steal it.
Everybody talks too much and much too loud.
Nobody gives a shit.
Everyone's impatient.

Now that Valentine is no longer with us, I begin to see the point behind her fluffy exterior. I begin to see that maybe it wasn't so wrong to close our eyes for a while. Because by closing our eyes, we could live in an alternate reality, a pink coated realm where everything is resolved by sharing a box of chocolate.

Valentine has passed away. But it is not the time for us to grieve. It's the time for us to celebrate her spirit, and for me the most important thing that Valentine had ever taught is the importance of believing in an imaginary world where everything works in the end.

Valentine will forever be missed.

Let us pray for her.

the festival of beggars

Come my beloved son, it’s the time of the year
Let us go to the temple where the Chinese people pray
It’s their new year my son, another year of prosperity
Unlike us, they are blessed with money abundantly

Dress raggedly my son, do not wash up and be filthy
Do not eat your meal so your cheeks will be hollow
And they would look at you with pity
I know it’s raining my son and I see that you are drenched
But persevere my son, the money is worth the wait

Last year I collected enough to last us a week
The year before that was even better
This year I brought you along so we could collect more
You are five years old now, you should learn to feed yourself
I was on the street much smaller, what a cozy life you’ve had

Son, when the guards tell you to squat you squat
I promise you enduring the heat and the rain and the spit of the guards
is nothing compared to what we are going to get

After all my son, it is free money
It requires no muscle, no skill, no brain
So what enduring a day like a dog when you can feast for a week?

meet the superstar

A nobody tourist apparently is a much more interesting phenomenon than one of the greatest temples in the world

Love Candy

It’s a love story gone horribly wrong. Just like any other love stories. Nothing so special about a heart gets broken. Except when it happens to a girl who loves candy.

She loves him more than love itself. He is her universe, the sole reason of her existence. Like a box of her favorite candy, once she starts she only craves for more. The sugar rush feels so good that she loses all self control and she indulges on the sickeningly sweet sensation, deeply and intensely, until she feels the first bout of nausea, and feels her stomach turns and vomit reaches up to her throat with a burning sensation and her eyes turn bloodshot, tears stream down her face as she throws up her extravagance, sugar mixes with bile, creating such bittersweet, highly addictive pain.

And one day he leaves.

And she finds herself wondering how numbness can be so painful. The days and nights repeat themselves until the day she resolves on creating the Love Candy.

Candy making is a very simple process. Deciding on the flavoring is the hardest part because she is not quite sure on how to capture the flavor of the love of her life. Each of his body parts has its own taste and often they contradict each other. His blood tastes like iron, his sweat tastes like salt. His heart is a little gamey, his liver is bitter like poison. She wonders if soul has a taste and whether she could bottle it and add it into her mixture.

But soul is neither a matter nor a substance and therefore she could not make a candy out of it. She has to settle for the physicality of him.

She chops a little piece off his organs and puts them together in a blender. She dips her finger into the blend and tastes it. It tastes like bloody raw meat. It is not the taste of love.

When the day is over she is badly spent. She falls asleep in the kitchen in the midst of blood and gore.

When she wakes up, she notices that he starts to rot, for she forgets to put him in the freezer. Now there is no way she could continue the experiment. She gathers every piece of him in a plastic bag and throws it into the river and watches as a single fish feasts on him, nibble by nibble.

She shakes her head sadly as the fish reminds her on how she used to feast on him. Until he takes himself away from her, refuses to give her anything, not even a single substance for her to make a love candy.

How To Make A Hard Candy

• 3 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 1/2 cups light corn syrup
• 1 cup water
• 2 drams flavoring
• coloring as desired
• powdered sugar

Mix the first 3 ingredients in a large saucepan. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves.
Boil, without stirring until temperature reaches 310 degrees, then remove from heat.
After boiling has ceased, stir in flavoring and coloring.
For basic hard candy, pour onto a lightly greased baking sheet. Cool and sprinkle on powdered sugar. Break into pieces.

The Amazing Race Double Six

New Year's Eve. The task is easy: go to Double Six club and dance the night away.

Two couples decide to go before midnight.
One couple stays back, deciding that the countdown should be somewhere quieter.

Half an hour before midnight, Mother Nature decides it should be raining.
It begins to drizzle.

The couple who stays back decide it's high time they ditch the restaurant and walk to the club now, before the rain stops them.

Not two feet away, the drizzle turns to storm.
Hard, unforgiving storm.

The couple who stays back has to run for the nearest building, which happens to be a car park of a newly-built apartment. And they wait. And they wait. The other couples send them short messages: get over here quick the crowd is crazy.

And they wait. And the clock strikes twelve. And it's new year. And it's still raining cats and dogs. And they are in a car park. And they wait. And they feel like the last team to arrive at The Amazing Race.

One simple decision decides all.
One simple change in nature changes all.

A good reminder for us mortals: nobody controls anything.

So take it easy. Do everything. Expect nothing.
And remember, there's always antidotes for almost everything.
A magnificent first sunset of 2008, at Kudeta, more than makes it up for the car park countdown.

Cheers for another big year.