Festivity

And since some people refer to it as a stupid thing - and I so do agree with them, I shall not put up any photos of the bands that played during the fest because that would be stupid. Or photos of the crowd that transmogrified the fest into what is believed to be Sarawak's answer to Woodstock or some cow dung like that. Although I really can't see how that thing should even be compared to the most sacred musical event the world had ever witnessed. And Woodstock happened only once.

To a few, its almost like a pilgrimage of some kind. Some folks do it for the music, some for the party like friendly atmosphere. A lot attend the fest specifically for the booze, sex and the whatnot's etc etc etc. But its really up to you.

Ok, so Jas who came last year for the festival was back into familiar territory and like last year, got very drunk and made new friends.

Lots of new friends...of the female persuasion. And they all loved posing with him.

And then there was this one who wanted to play lap dance with him in the car.

I didn't get to meet Carlos Ramos aka Jesus from last years thing and I vividly remembered him promising a second coming this year. I was hoping to bump into him and maybe get spiritually inspired but that didn't happen. But I did meet a few beautiful women who made funny faces each time I took a photo shoot with them. I don't know why they do this. This one here is perhaps the only decent one of many that was stored in my camera.

It is perhaps the norm that one should get highly intoxicated before entering the concert venue. I was informed that this is a ritual obligation at the fest.

One kanid remarked, "How can anyone of sane mind even get in there without getting high first?". Right.

Needless to say, I didn't see him at the concert that night.

And up there is a reminiscence of what occurred last year at my crib. Now if the front porch incident was last years highlight, this year however, my take would have to be the 'boobies falling out' scene. That was definitely one hell of a show.

And so, all 24 cans of big cats I stuffed in my back pack was wiped out in a matter of minutes. Ditto with what was left of the Label 5 - leftover from what we couldn't finish last year. What will ever quench the thirst of my fellow brothers is something to ponder on.

This year the ritual was organised over at a kanid's crib which incidentally was by the beach. Jas and I didn't do the beach party this time but I was informed that all manners of human atrocity and drunken debauchery manifested right there at the beach front for the three nights. All which made events at Sodom and Gomorrah pale in comparison. Which very much sums up what the fest is all about for some quarters. I think.

As for me, lets just say that I have yet again failed to enjoy the concert this year or digest the very reason why I was even there. Oh, I was digesting, alright. Lots and lots of big cats and whatnot's.

If there is one, and only one thing that came out good from this year's thing, it has got to be my discovery of being able to fit 24 cans of big cats into my back pack. With room for a bottle of whiskey. Its a miracle, really.

Damn it!!! I still have that lion-sleep-tonight song playing in my fucking head!!!

Poolside

For lack of better things to post, I decided to put this one up.

While checking my 4 days old mails, I got one with this picture attached depicting chronologically challenged men harmonizing with errrr...other chronologically challenged men. In the pool. A mail sent to me by a friend whose sexual orientation would be deemed unbecoming of a person at least to my conservative standard. But please don't get me wrong. I have nothing against these people. They are alright. Better then religious fanatics anytime. But as long as they keep any sexually inclined thoughts about me to themselves, I'm fine.

His email ended with a gloomy note saying it would be sad to grow old and be dipping in pools of old and fat bearded men.

This is most disturbing.

Enough said.

Hell!!!

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot...

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot...

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot...

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot...

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot...







WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT???!!!

Cats Cradle

Cat's Cradle was a little too American for me, but overall, smart, sharp and devastatingly honest. A lot of insight into (dis)organized religion - I’m always a fan. I’m intrigued by this man Vonnegut, and now I understand the mourning that swept over his fans when he passed away. I’ll be reading more.

Last night was dinner at one of the aunt's. This is the aunt whose cheesecakes have made cows cry with compassion, whose fruit tarts resemble Eden before the fall, whose sponge cakes get high on hydrogen.

Suffice to say, dinner was good, and the company better yet. My four-year-old cousin, Yohannes, instantly took a liking to me. There was horseplay, some cuddling, twirling of hair, smiles and chuckles, and the evening ended with him curled up on my lap, fast asleep.

It was all good.

That Stupid Thing

I can't for the life of me, understand the hype about that stupid thing happening at Damai. That's what kanid Kelvin said last week when he asked me if I was going. He was right. It was just stupid.

It was good the first time. And so was the second and the third. Its like sex. The first few time is always the best. You know how it is. Familiarity breeds contempt. Think 'The Terminator' and the stupid sequels that followed. Sure, I had fun last year but that's because half of the time, I was zoned out. In the head. Didn't do any of the workshops and was just too drunk to enjoy the concert.

And so, Jass arrived a day earlier from Jauhar and made the obligatory stop at Ruai where we met kanid Kelvin and drank in harmony. Kanid Kelvin decided to make a strong statement this year by not going to the stupid thing and so the next afternoon, Jass and I drove to Damai but not before we had a few cans of the big cat. At the Ruai and along the journey.

We arrived at our destination and stopped at a kanid's crib and was immediately introduced to all manners of alcohol and herbal debauchery. And I wondered, this is beginning to look and feel familiar.

I met a few people from last year and there were the hugs and 'Hey, its nice to see you again!'. Lots of people, lots of bikinis and thongs and I'm wondering...this definitely looks all too familiar.

The music started and having actually assembled the best of the best from the last ten years since this stupid thing started, I must humbly state here that it was disappointingly disappointing.

I looked at Jass at the end of the show and told him we had better things to do with our lives. And we did.

We went home.

13th

Today is Friday.

The thirteenth.

Its a good day.

Its Friday.

My World

I like to imagine the world was but a room
and I an inmate in it.
And in it I could sleep day and night
and watch the shadows of the fan's blade tracing
circles on the wall.

If the room was the world
I could stay inside it always,
and I would sit in my chair with my
mind adrift and watch the leaves
as they are blown away.

If that room and the world were
one and the same,
and I could live inside it,
I would drift happy from morning
to night, dreaming dreams of dreams
and watching the light
hovering like flies
on my brain,
shifting and melting
and flowing into
the wall...whatever.

Good Man

This one is for the good man who stopped and got out of his big ass shiny German ride to give me a push :-

YOU FUCKING KICK ASS TO THE POWER OF 17!!!!!!!!!!!

While driving and cruising at what I vaguely remember was around 70 KM/Hr, my ride suddenly slowed, stalled and then the engine died. In the middle of the road. My phone was dead and I was drunk. No. Tipsy. It was 1:15am and you, Sir, helped me at a time I couldn't help myself.

I know you saw my ol' faithful and thought to yourself, "This guy was duped into buying a junk, plus he probably belongs to the average income earner" (For the record, my lil sis drives my Proton now and it so happened that yesterday we swaped rides because she had to impress some of her friends) But you did not care. You did not judge me. You got out of your big ass shiny German ride in the dead of the morning and you put all that you had into it. You gave me the boost I needed to get enough courage to drive home.

I was so nervous and excited when I finally got moving. I got out of my ride but you already started walking back towards yours. I did not have a chance to thank you properly. I want you to know that not saying "thank you!" is not the way and order of the kanids, and since I will likely never see you again, this is the only way I know how.

So, to the selfless car-pusher, I hope you are reading this. You, Sir, fucking rule.

Sincerely,

Me