Ogostus

Its Merdeka day and all that jive today. Malaya's independence day from their colonial masters. Its quiet here on the home front. There were talks a couple of weeks ago about encouraging people like me to fly the nations flag and some campaign to drive the message and meaning of Merdeka to her subjects but by the way things look around town, its like no body gives a shit. There's a lot of discounts at the supermarkets though. Which is good.

Was over at the pub last night and a few local talent jammed. It was noisy. Seconds before midnight and at the end of the gig, the host did a rendition of the great Sudir's Merdeka song - very off key and very, very drunk. A friend later said it certainly doesn't feel like a celebration this time. I didn't know there was suppose to be a celebration.

There were talks about fireworks and all that shit but I don't know whats that about either. And I don't want to start to understand and appreciate whats the fuss about because I'm looking at things around me and it looks like its all fucked up.

Just read the fucking papers, man.

And I certainly don't need your interpretations and shallow appreciation of events that led to this day either. And don't fucking go with that empty rhetoric and slogans with me. Don't like? Go fuck.

Last I read somewhere, there are still fucking crazy racist among us and some love to march with a severed cow head. And what about those crazy self-centered politicians who squander of with them millions and get away with it and the many other scandals this nation witnessed in the last few months.

Ahhh...fuck it.

Its a good day by any standard. Its like any other day except that its the thirty first of the month of August and its a fucking holiday.

So happy Monday.

The 70's

I got this in my mail box this morning and I thought this piece deserves a space in here. Thanks again for this shit, Janice. Well, now we know Janice is an old hag.

Old, like me.

"THIS IS TO ALL BORN IN THE '70s...

First, we survived with mothers who had no maids. They went to work / cooked /cleaned while taking care of us at the same time.

They took aspirin, candy floss, fizzy drinks, shaved ice with syrups and diabetes were rare. Salt added to Pepsi or Coke was remedy for fever.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets.

As children, we would ride with our parents on bicycles / motorcycles for 2 or 3. The other richer kids rode in cars with no seat belts or air bags. And riding in the back of a private taxi was a special treat.

We drank water from the tap and NOT from a fucking bottle.

We would spend hours on the fields under bright sunlight flying our kites, without worrying about the UV rays which never seem to affect us.

We go to the jungle to catch spiders without worries of mosquitoes or malaria. There was an endless game with 5 pebbles and with a tennis ball we boys would run like crazy for hours.

We catch guppy in drains / canals and when it rained we fucking swim there. We shared one soft drink with four friends - from one bottle - and NO ONE actually worry about being unhygenic.

We ate salty, very sweet and oily food, candies, bread and real butter and drank very sweet coffee / tea, ice cream potong and ATE Milo mixed with lots of sugar but we never got fat because...

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE AND ROUGHING IT OUT!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, till the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. AND WE DIDN'T HAVE HANDPHONES TO BUG US. And we were O.K. AND WE WERE SAFE.

We would spend hours repairing our old bicycles and wooden scooters and then ride down the hill only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have PlayStations, X-Boxes, Nintendo's, multiple channels on cable TV, DVD movies, no surround sound, no phones, no personal computers, no fucking internet. We had friends and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and we still continued the stunts.

We never had birthdays parties till we are 21.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and just yelled for them!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the fucking law!

And, yes, this generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

We had freedom, went through failures and success and we learned how to deal with it all.

And by God, it feels good to be born in the 70's"

Picture Story XI

Old No. 7

Balcony

Spinning

Brothers

Glasses

Colours

Up down

Shrooms

Spirits

Beggar

You

Who are you?

That I should see your smile
in the taste of my morning coffee
and the last sight of evening,
And in the tiny bubbles
in my beer glass?...

Who are you?...

That I should hear you in the crowds
pretending to be...

And who are you?

that I should see you in the serenity of the trees
and the silence of the river flow?

Who are you?

That the forest flowers
reminds me of your hair?

Where are you?

Puzzle

It's like a puzzle in here right now. And I don't mean a small puzzle, but an emormous one with fucking thousands of pieces. This wretched body being the main picture, much like the puzzle box cover, a guide to the completion of the fucking whole.

When I pour the pieces of the puzzle out onto the table I see only fucking chaos, nothing else. The pieces are laid out all over the place when I let them fall from inside the box onto the surface that I am working with.

Some pieces are specific points in time.

Like this puzzle piece right here represents one day when I was little. When I inflicted a scratch on my kanids face. And this puzzle piece, the first time I watched porn when I was 12 and my very first beer.

Whooahh...what's this here? The piece from the first time I had sex and the start of a rollercoaster fucking relationship from hell! What a fucking ride, that was. And lookeeee here. This piece is from my college days. Its a Friday, Palm Court apartment, Block B, Floor 15 and I'm fucking high on some herbal constituents. The ladies from two floors up are wasted and one of them has got her t off - tits and all. I've got this stupid grin on my face and her Less Than Jake shirt on. I remember this one so clearly.

And here's a puuzzle piece from just last night. 13 big cats. I think.

There are countless amount of puzzle pieces in this fucking puzzle. But this is me. My fucking life, a huge puzzle. As far as putting it together, I wouldn't even know where to start.

Maybe, I'll just let the pieces find their own places.

Go Fly

Go ahead...

close your eyes and
look towards the heavens.
Feel and touch the earth under your
bare feet.
Spread your arms
to embrace the sky.

And fucking fly.

Look back...
Leave the world behind.
Look ahead...
and join the stars.
Under the burning sun
your wings are mirrored
in the ocean waves.

Go on...spread your arms
and touch the sky.

And fly.

Try...
press your pen to paper,
watch as words crawl from the deepest places in your mind.
Embrace imagination,
touch your dreams…

And fucking fly.

Recovery

The barking of my neighbours dogs woke me this morning and since there was nothing on my calendar calling my name I was able to pull the sheet over my head and hibernate for an extra little while.

It’s been one hell of a week and my mood have been tossed about like a fucking sampan on the rough seas. I've been at the pub for the past 17 nights out of which I was so drunk out of my mind at least in 5 outings. Last night was no different. I feel desperately in need of time to calm down.

So I decided to take the morning for myself. It is Saturday and I should be at the saltmine but it's raining and my mobile did not ring with news, good or bad. The rain smells funny. Cloud seeding, I was told. So I sat on the couch outside the house for a long while with a book and coffee, enjoying the silence and solitude. I thought to myself I need this bit of time to recover.

Recovery for me, always involves quiet time, solitude, being at home, chilling out, books, music. If I feel particularly brave, I might venture out for some strong coffee or drive over to my favourite sio bee shop. Most of all, I need to give my body to heal. Come Monday, perhaps I will have become more settled into this detoxing process.

All right then, let the recovery begin…

The Great Servant

And so last night, together with three Iban Brothers of Warriors we met under a very auspicious time. A time when the solar power and the moon and many other stars formed a full circle in our city bright night skies, where the centre emitting rims of rays that resembled a ferocious tiger and two powerful claws followed by three thunderclaps.

Brrroooom! Bada boooom! Booooom!

It was a good sign.

We arrived at the Halls of Servitude and like all warriors before us, took our places at the Altar of Rest. Solemnly, we performed the rituals of summoning the Great Servant, Baki to whom we, mere mortals and most unworthy, humbly made our request for the spiritual juice that quench all thirst.

We knew we have appeased the spirits and they favoured us for there and then the Great Servant, Baki so magickally appeared. And as suddenly as he appeared, he so vanished in a blinding flash of glorious lights unto his spiritual domain.

Our prayers were quickly answered.

Eight heavenly ewers emitting blue rays which pained the eyes and requiring us to shield our face with our hands suddenly manifested before us on the Altar of Rest.

And then with a voice deeper than that of the old warrior, Barry White, the Great Servant, Baki announced, "Drrrrrrink, humble servants! For today the spirits favour you"

Humbled then and with our heads hung low, we took what was presented unto us and drank.

-The End-

Picture Story X

Decide

There haven’t been many decisions in my life I haven’t agonized over. I have to turn each one over and over again. Analyzing, making sure I haven’t missed anything, questioning my own viewpoint and everyone else’s before I make a choice. It’s not that I’m indecisive but rather it’s the weight of not wanting to make a mistake that fucking slows me down.

You know you've been through this shit - things were black and white when I was growing up. Shades of grey always fall into places I wasn’t supposed to be and only those which was very clearly right was allowed. It didn't help to be born in a very Christian environment either. As a result I didn’t know how to make an informed decision and when confronted with moments of truth I fucking got cold feet.

When I was fifteen and fucking bitchy - bitchy, because we men can still be a bitch, questioning everything my dad said, it seemed to me that some of his rules just didn’t make sense. I reasoned and pleaded and bargained. It didn’t matter. His rule was absolute and punishment fucking swift. I wasn’t a rebellious kid. I didn't think so. But obedience and responsibility came far too easily - a fucking shame really, those years should have been a little more fun. I think it came with being the eldest.

My dad got tired of my asking why a certain rule had to be obeyed. Why this and not that.

It usually wasn’t the decision I disagreed with but I wanted to know how he came to a particular decision, what process did he use to decide what was going to happen in my life. I begged for explanation, once even asking if this was going to make me a better person or if it was just his personal preference. That brought a moment of silence and then an explosion. If there is one thing my dad lacked, it would be patience. I was so fucked like that.

It’s a fact. And I know now that life is filled with fucking grey areas and difficult decisions. Leave or stay, buy or sell, heart or head. So many shades of grey it looks like a rainbow, each requiring a deep look inside to see if there’s knowledge that will lead us to the truth, some sure sense that we’re making the right decision. And even then we sometimes don’t know for years, or ever, if we’ve chosen well.

There is this scene in a movie, I think it was one of those Indiana Jones movies or ot could be something else. In the scene, this old knight who guards this ancient secret presents a option to the heroes. One man wavers, impulsively makes the wrong choice and suffers the consequences immediately. The knight dude sighs and in a weary voice says, “He fucked up” - no, he actually said, "He chose poorly". And that image lingers with me – choose right or die – the sure outcome of bad choices.

Most life decisions aren’t so fucked up but they sometimes feel that way. The fear of doing the wrong thing can mess us up badly and you know that. I ask myself now if the road ahead is going to be good for me or if I need to make another decision. Will my choice make me proud or leave me with regret and if after looking at all my options does something still sound like a good idea? I try not to over-analyze, though I do anyway. I weigh my needs with those of anyone else involved in the situation.

And still I’m not always sure.

I waver and hesitate, looking first one way and then the other and back again, wondering what and how to decide. And somehow it seems to work out in the end.

But ultimately, we just need to make up our mind and decide and see where it takes us.