A Noble Conjecture

The Marching Band

2011-07-12T10:00:00.003+08:00

So some of my buddies flew over to the West side, put on a yellow T and marched in the streets of the nations capitol on Saturday ala the Arab Spring do. One got hyped up too soon, donned it a day earlier, got spotted while having breakfast in a coffeeshop and was arrested which was stupid of him. He should have worn it on Saturday instead because the whole idea was to wear it on Saturday and flaunt the colours. Obviously, he wasn't in the crowd on marching day.

He is, stupid.

They say yellow is the now the new black or whatever that is suppose to mean. Said that thousands took to the streets over the weekend and while marching and singing some songs by Seals & Crofts, they got their asses tear gassed and shot with water canons by the police. And they enjoyed every bit of it. Yes, that's what the boys gloated over coffee just now. They fucking got supa high from being gassed and eating fucking salt. It was all worth it they said. The searing pain in the eyes and shit. To be in the heat of shit, to stand and be counted, they said. All in the name of fair election, fundemental liberties and rights of the people and whatever. Good on ya, guys!

And then some buddies went to that stupid festival thing over at the village-of-a-few-cultures-by-the-beach to generally get drunk and high on shit. I was informed it isn't as intense as before, whatever that also means.

I stayed home, watched a few episodes of The Family Guy and drank half a bottle of rum from Barbados while getting periodical live updates from friends over from the West side and from the boys over at the village-of-a-few-cultures-by-the-beach on what was going on. I couldn't care a flying fuck but the rum was good. From some gay mountain in Barbados or something. But it was good.

I think I want that yellow T shirt. The one they wore at the London march. Okay, maybe they didn't march but stood around in some corner or something.

I still want that yellow T shirt.

JC Day

2011-07-10T12:48:00.007+08:00

You can say what you want about JC and his whole "turn the other cheek" mentality as it applies to neck crushing badasstitude but the second coming of Big Jay Cee in chapter 19 of the awesome Book of Revelation treads a fine line between being intense, hardcore and the totally insane.

In St John's account of the Apocalypse, the big bossman of all King of Kings busts out of heaven on a white horse, wearing robes drenched in blood and shooting a huge, double edge sword out of His mouth.

He smites the Armies of Darkness with the mouth blade, chokeslams the devil and his minions into a burning lake of fiery brimstone and then rides off into the sunset leaving behind nothing but a bloody field of bird-eaten corpses.

=============================

That is totally awesome.

Talking Whisper

2011-06-30T14:25:00.007+08:00

"Do not interrupt me. I am talking to my whisper"

Awesome.

Papa Rock

2011-06-27T15:02:00.013+08:00

A few weeks ago and that would be weeks before that nice wedding by the beach front I was at recently, I flew in to the West Side on an impulse. I say on an impulse because I woke up that Friday morning and so decided to take the afternoon flight out. And that I did.

On my arrival, I did not know where to go or what to do but I knew I had to have some beer. And that I had. Lots of it. At that Changkat road place. Fucking expensive.

Later that night I met 'Papa Rock'. And he was doing what he knows best. And that is to be on the street and to sing. He's wheelchair strapped. Got into a nasty road accident years ago and busted his back. He was, as usual with his sidekick, Pak Man and another new adition to the crew. Usually it was just the two of them. I didn't get the newbie's name. But he was cool.

Pak Man saw me first and stopped midway of 'Have you ever seen the rain?' by CCR. Fucking Credence Clearwater Revival, yo!

He went, "Hey! Mat Sarawak!".

And I went like, "Yo!".

And Papa Rock went all emotional going, "Where the fuck have you been all these years?!!"

And I just went like, "Yeeeeeooooow..."

Because it was way past 12 midnight and I had been drinking like for the past 9 hours before that and I was like, drunk.

I first became acquainted with Papa Rock when I was very young and in college. He used to sing on the streets around Central Market and each time the pair were there, I never missed like, just sitting and watching them sing. I sort of became a groupie and their bitch or something like that and was sometime asked to sing along with them. Which was fun.

So that night, we sang. Lots of CCR, a couple of stuff your dad listens to and a few M. Nasir's. We didn't do bad. In an hour or so, we got like close to 40 bucks.

A nice girl with a pair of good legs came along much later and asked if she could join too. She sang and she sang very nice.

She was nice.

And in local news, the communists are making a come back!

Yaaaaay!

Twenty Three

2011-06-17T08:08:00.001+08:00

I just finished "To Kill A Mocking Bird".

That would have to be my fourth time. Don't be giving a fuck what you think, but it be good. Yes, it be good.

And like Loki, I think Mr. Ewell is so misunderstood. Who the fuck is Loki, you ask? Go fucking google it you moron!

And apart from being notified recently that I now have 23 followers on this thing, I was at a broseph wedding last week which I thought was beautiful. I just checked on the 23 and found one of the blog owner is a suicidal Indonesian dude. He's got it all planned and even tells you how to do it the right way.

There is another one who claims he's from Eye-ran and exclusively dedicates his blog in celebration of naked women with huge boobies from that part of the world. I spent a good hour browsing through his page, if you must know. I think I'm already liking Ah-med a lot.

And there's this other one who I think is a French dude because everything is in French. I browsed through his pages and most of the photos were of dismembered body parts of human and animals. Lots of black and red. Very gory. And a few angry humans with beady eyes. I think he's an artist.

And there are also two blogs promoting the wonders of yoga. Not nice.

The rest are either in some language I dont understand or just plain fucking boring.

Oh, and the couple that just got hitched? They did their matrimonial enslavement vows at this boat club by this nice beach and there were lots of beer and Japanese girls. One looked a little like Miss Hikaru from a distance.

And then someone I know died last night.

Epic

2011-04-04T15:02:00.001+08:00

It's election fever again for some people.

I say, fuck that shit.

But have you noticed, for the past ten years or so, when you read the local papers and at least if it is on Malaysian politics, we had to endure periodic obsessive fits about the opposition's head honcho supposed sexual escapades? And on TV too.

First it was about him butt fucking his ugly speech writer, who is a dude, and how he got caught and all that. And then how on TV, we saw them parading the fucking mattress on which they supposedly fucked in and out of court rooms.

So, it is wrong to butt fuck here in my country. You can but don't get your ass caught. Or your dick. Or whatever. They tried so hard to put the man in the can but just couldn't pin shit on him. After a couple of years, powers that be got all spent and the man walks free. And he's still fucking them in the ass. Only in a different way.

Then not long ago this girly looking dude owned up and said he's all traumatised cos the man done all fucked him in the butt. It was all the same drama and shit. Again. And while the man's trying to clear his name some major jerkburgers took to national TV and said they now have some nasty home vid of him getting it goin' on with a fuckin' ho. A GIRL ho!

And I'm like, the man's fucking a bitch and thats wrong too?

So its not about the man being gay and butt fucking dudes, cos that bit didn't put him in jail. Its not even him being straight. Its about fucking a ho's pussy! That's all wrong.

So naturally I'm like, this man is a natural mo'fucking badass!

And this we read in the papers for the past ten years. Like, it is as if people have nothing better to do than to engage in an orgy of voyeuristic gratification.

But fuck it.

Hows about this one - a mufti dude from a state across the big sea had just gone bat guano crazy and decreed that the 'poco-poco' dance is all wrong. Might just Christianised the Muslim dancer, he says.

Wasn't it just months ago when some mufti dude decreed the Man U's jersey to be like, evil cos theres a devil with a fucking pitch fork on it? And then last December another one decreed donning Santa's suit all wrong for a Muslim cos that be all christian and basically will christianized him if he play Santa for a while. Valentine day's all wrong too cos it be all sexy but I'd like to tell the dude that it's not sexy, its just fucking wrong. Errr...nevermind.

Says now this 'poco-poco' has some christian and crazy ass devil worship elements to it and if our Muslim brosephs did the dance, they'll all get messed up and shit. Cos it be Jamaican voodoo and christian and all that. Says too, that Muslims should just stick to joget and I'm like, didn't the Portuguese dudes gave influence to that one and aren't the Portuguese like, friggin' christians?

Maaan, I heard of stupid but this kind of stupid is monumentally epic, its like...fuck, its just fucking epic.

And I think April fools day is still stupid.

Picture Story XII

2011-03-15T16:00:00.002+08:00

Errr...sunset?

Do not litter

In deep thoughts

Weaving

Sunday Zen

2011-03-13T09:51:00.004+08:00

I didn't do church today because the church decided to do the church thing over at a beach resort. Just for today. Even the church needs to sort of get away to chill, they said. I didn't get the idea so I didn't go. The resort is just too far away and its a bitch to drive especially now that its raining.

Its still Sunday and its all lazy and easy like that Lionel Ritchie song and I feel empty. Inside. I feel like fucking boredom creeping slowly behind me and about to jump.

And so I turned on the TV and this Indian dude was talking about enlightenment. And theres this other dude with a good beard who said something about meditation to realize God and that I'd be so blissed out and successful in action if I did all that shit. I'm not about to say he's got it all wrong and all. Whatever rocks your world, my man. In the background a few dudes were assuming the lotus pose and humming some zen shit. And I feel like shit.

And I'm like what da fuck is up with me?

I think I need to sleep this shit off.

Godzilla Did It

2011-03-12T18:04:00.003+08:00

It was late evening and I was driving to the coffee shop for some cheap beer when I first heard on the radio about the earthquake and tsunami and shit hitting Japan. First thing I thought of was Miss Hikaru Koto. I sure hope she's fine and all. And if she was filming when it hit, I pray she had time to put some clothes on.

While at the coffee shop, the shit was on TV and man, I was like, what the fuck? Hundreds of big ass containers, cars and fucking houses swept away like fucking card boxes. The man on TV said like 200 died but later they said it could even go as high as a couple of thousands or even more. Doesn't look good at all. Then there's this fear about some nuke facility that got hit and that it might burn and could do a Chernobyl on Japan or some shit like that.

And my kanid who was with me and not drinking beer tells me he's just done his full physical and shit and his doctor tells him now his liver's about to give and that his nerve's like all screwed up. So I tell him to stick to milk for the next few weeks. He had ice fucking lemon tea and it felt strange to be having beer alone and watching Japan getting whacked.

And I'm like where the fuck is Ultraman at times like this?

VD

2011-02-14T16:38:00.008+08:00

I got this in my email today. Sent to me by a beautiful and liberated woman who share my sentiments and deep convictions on how stupid this day is. To her, I want to say, I'd probably do the same thing as I did yesterday. Like drink a few beers and do a bit of Hikaru Koto. Errrr....no. Last night was two episodes of Mike's Apartment, actually. Which was good.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Let the fucking axe swing on the heads of all who dig this VD shit. Didn't I just read in the papers the other day, some religious department is hell bent on screwing up this years do? About fucking time too. I say bring in the tanks. Let loose the dudes who did that Mongolian lady on these bitches and C4 their fucking ass!

Fuck, if it was up to me, I'd go back in time, fucking stalk this moron Valentinus biatch and when I do get to him, I'll jump him Ninja style and stab him in his mouth. Twice.

And I'll cut his face off and put it on to scare the Christians.

Happy Monday.

Anon and A Broken Heart

2011-02-12T15:15:00.006+08:00

So I was at this shopping mall the other day and got myself a Lumberjack. Later, I walked into a DVD shop and as if the stars had aligned somewhere in the heavens somehow, I found this - I Spit On Your Grave. Its the remake of, yes, the 70's cult sex gone bad flick. And the copy I got was supa clear, uncut and with the correct English subtitles. When I checked, it was 'hearing impaired friendly'. And I'm like whatdafak.

If you're going like, whatdafak is I Spit On Your Grave, I don't blame you because that would mean you're still young and shouldn't even be reading this shit. Anyways, the reviews says it was a 70's cult horror movie but more like some bad porn to me. Wiki tells it better and says its a rape revenge film. And Times rated it as the most 'Ridiculously Violent Movie' together with The Passion of Christ. And I'm like whatdafak. Again.

So, I first watched the real deal and uncut when I was 15 and since then I wasn't the same. I respected woman.

Whatever. But okay, heres the spoiler.

A woman gets fucked, right. Yeah. She gets fucked, alright. Not that she wanted to. Be fucked, that is.

No, you don't understand. If you haven't watched this one yet, the woman gets really fuck-ed. Like no holes on her were spared. Like she gets gang banged. And fucked all over again.

But thats like watching fucking hardcore porn, you say.

Yes and no. And it gets better. The woman later recovers and all that, goes to church and fucks back. She gets to all the bitches who fucked her and fucked them fucking 10 times worse! One even got a fucking rifle shoved up his ass in what is in fact the best scene in the movie.

Yaaaaay!

And to Anon, who wants my take on 'a broken heart and how to heal it', here's what I think. After watching the remake of I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE and while nursing a confused cock stand thereafter, I was inspired and began to ponder on the wonders of this 'broken heart' thing. Much have been written about it and there are countless songs with the words 'broken' and 'heart' that we listen to everyday.

A broken heart, is like that woman who got fucked in every hole she has on her body.

But like that same woman, you shouldn't fucking go to your room and sulk and be all bitchy about it. Rather, you should go get a fucking Remington and shove it up the bastards ass and pull the trigger. Like what the woman did.

There. And everyone gets to live happily ever after.

Except for the bitches who fucked the woman. They get to die. Which is not a happy thing.

Dead Guitar

2011-02-11T16:38:00.004+08:00

When I was told Gary died, my first instinct was to take a dump. It was still very early in the morning when I got the news. Judging from the 9 lines of text I received from this friend of mine, I could tell he's a big fan.

I am too.

Right now 'Over The Hills and Far Away' is playing and next on is 'Midnight Blues'.

So while I was taking a shit, I imagined his face. And you know the man's fucking ugly. He's so ugly, its frightening on different levels.

And I felt he was watching. Me. Shit.

A Change

2011-01-23T13:57:00.005+08:00

There are very strange people I know. Like those who do this "new year resolution" thing. Okay, so I don't swing that way. But it's fucking 23rd of January and still they ask me of my new year resolution. And I'm like, what the fuck? Go fucking far away. Freaks!

Oh, did I just hear you ask what this new year resolution thing is? Well, it is that time when we all tell ourselves (and everyone within earshot) just how dramatically our life is about to change or some shit like that.

Of course it is. Of course we do.

Just like we did the last fucking twenty New Year's eves.

Sure, we would have made those necessary changes earlier than now, but we all know that you can't do it in October or March, and don't even talk to me about December. That would be simply ridiculous. Why January is the official 'start-time' for change is again, beyond me.

Yes, you're going to be happier, more relaxed, more balanced - zen and all that shit, healthier, richer and thats all about to happen. For a week at least. This year, we may even stretch it to two.

But of course it is not some high mercury science shit for anyone to know that all these jive about these New Year's resolutions ultimately amount to fucking nothing. Nothing positive anyway. But some continue with the stupid tradition nonetheless. There it is, fucking tradition.

Go ahead. Just watch your friends, family and colleagues over the next few days, weeks and months. No. Probably just for the next few days. And then take a peek at your own past while you're at it. And unless you're the exception, you'll find there's been lots of talk and lots of great intentions and amazing ideas over the years. A bunch of fucking hot air and very little results. Moments of greatness but overall, kinda disappointing.

Its the same thing every year. A bunch of promises to ourselves that we never fucking keep. We get all worked up and excited for about eight minutes and then we get back into our old way. It's what we do. It's not so much life-long change as it is a momentary phase. I think this is sometimes called short term behavioural change, people.

Pretty much like farting. Makes us feel better for a moment.

And even confronted with the obvious fucked up track record and a vast wasteland of shattered dreams, they continue to approach every New Year the same way. With the same dumb, pointless strategy.

A broken broken record stuck in the same groove comes to mind. Fucking repeating...oooh, fuck it!

Well, get over it already, fuckers! The New Year is not the right time for making resolutions. Its March the 16th or take June the 5th if you like June. It makes absolutely no difference. Try the 8th of August just for fun.

Me, I do this. Have two or three hundred beers and then decide for change. Like what I did when I quit the smokes. It makes so much sense.

For the rest, you know there's always next New Years Eve.

The New

2010-12-31T23:55:00.000+08:00

Happiness is too many things these days for anyone to wish it on anyone lightly.

So let's just wish each other a bileless New Year and leave it at that.

Eve Of It

2010-12-24T09:52:00.005+08:00

Ohhhh, maaannnn!

Just when I thought it would not get any better, I just read in the papers a minute ago, it appears my Muslim brosephs has now got to take them fucking santa suit off. Fucking hats and all. This because a certain mufti apparently thinks all that is not permitted by the Book. And by donning that crazy santa suit, they're actually celebrating with them Christians and that they'll become Christians afterwards and all that shit. Which is all wrong, according to him.

And like I'm whatdafuck! Fucking confused religious nut! And why not ban Levi's too cos he be Jew, dipshit!

And while on my way to the saltmine and listening to the radio, the lady was talking about the nations budget which was just recently tabled in Parliament, and check this out, the theme from Twilight Zone was playing in the fucking background.

I swear to Gee and I fucking kid you not!

========

I love my cuntry. Oh, I just love it.

In a gay, like happy kindda way.

The Holiday

2010-12-23T09:49:00.004+08:00

The coolest thing about this weekend apart from it being a weekend and a Saturday and all, is that its Christmas day. Not x'mas, fuckers! Get it fucking right, for fucks sake. It's 'Christ-mas'.

It is also a super cool day because the celebration on the 25th of every December is also the feast of the Son of Isis, the Goddess of Nature. It is said that in the days of antiquity the Babylonians who were the coolest people on earth back then would on this very day organise parties which included wild orgies of mindless sex, ravenous feasting, partying and just being plain drunk. They also gave presents afterwards.

I feel good, already.

December

2010-12-18T09:14:00.003+08:00

I don't really like December. It sucks, o.k. If it was a woman and sucked dick, that would be different. That would be nice.

December to me is that time of the year when I ask how bad I had fucked myself for the past twelve months. I also hate that it is the end. Of something. And I generally hate the end.

And then theres this miserable overrated holiday thing happening soon. That was good when I was much shorter. I enjoyed it then, but now I think its all fucked up. No, don't get me wrong. I'm cool with the baby, his mom and dad. I think they're all cool. Especially the baby. But its the way people had messed this day up that pisses me off. Just look at all the shallow, fake little advertisements I see every damn place. The shit that tells me how by going into endless debt to buy shit for my family and friends I’ll somehow be a better person. What fuck is up with that shit?

Look at the decorations and tell me if you don't think they're completely out of place. Fucking fake snow on fake pine trees. All done under the guise of this holiday spirit. I was in a mall over the weekend to get myself a copy of this months Nat Geo and they had not one but several fake pine trees. And the inside of the mall looked like it was hit by a fucking blizzard. An obese fat man in that thick red costume, fake white beard and all stood under one tree ringing a fucking bell going ho ho fucking ho.

And I, for the life of me, can't seem to get people that buy into that sort of thing. Well, news flash, suckers! Fucking mall isn’t throwing up the fake evergreen, blizzard and a wrong santa cause they just can’t wait to go caroling and make baby Jesus your god, they fucking want your money, you morons!

While we’re on this, I think people who go all out about this Christmas thing it is just beyond the beyond. And I hate how they look at me in a funny way when I say I'm just not into the celebration. I'm cool with the concept and the choir and all the church thing but I don't like, fucking celebrate it. I like, respect it. Or whatever.

Just the other day someone called to ask if I could do some charity work at this home for boys. Said it would be nice if I could also donate some used stuff and other shit.

And I'm like whatdafuck?

I told him to fuck off. Thats exactly why it is beyond me how everyone remembers poor and homeless people for two weeks and then promptly forgets about them again. And also why some Christians thinks it is wrong to get respectfully drunk on Christmas.

Merry whatever.

Dear Jah

2010-11-29T14:21:00.004+08:00

God,

We acknowledge that all we have is because of your grace. And what you give, you can also take away. But I pray, if you are willing, please give us back Bob Marley and in exchange you can have that Justin Beiber guy.

That is all and thanks.

O.k.

Out.

QWERTY

2010-11-24T09:47:00.001+08:00

We bid thee well, they tell me, to the world of technology.

But hear ye, I caution thee to severely watch thy step, lest ye get swept away by the new technology wave that doth hover 'bove the nation.

Nay! Nay! But the world!

New fangled contraptions like phones with G's and them berries and pads and pods and play book and whatnot. Computers hath taken the place of the omnipresent parchment and quill. Instead of the letters we often send to our lovers and kinsmen, we now send cold, unfeeling SMSes. Language hath been compressed excessively and hath been forced to bend down to the will of this new tyrant.

Wires and cables doth choke the land and metal carriages race across towns and nations within hours. The ways of the old have disappeared to make way for the damnable new.

Yes, I too, have been swept and I have come to warn thee not to commit the same error that I hath foolishly made. I, once naive, believed that technology could solve many problems that doth vex our world.

Folly, I say!

Woe! It is folly! Fucking folly!

For instead of offering assistance, this new tool strangled us and kept us in chains, forever bound to its damnable head.

Yet, I do not say ye avoid this new tool completely. Know it and use it, but use it well. Lest you be swept away and drown in the future. And from there...there be no return. Once thou hath entered that labyrinth of obsession, thou hath lost thyself to the demon puppeteer which keeps all on a leash, relishing in each usage of its charms.

PAUSE

So theres this messenger thing on my phone, right and I just discovered that if I use it to text another person who uses the same breed of phone, theres actually no fucking charge! Like, its fucking free! Like you can fucking go crazy with the tiny little fucking qwerty tabs and text your fucking friends till your thumbs bleed and its all for fucking free!!!

How cool is that?

Tadpoles

2010-11-19T07:00:00.005+08:00

I was very reluctant to be hauled into this minister-of-defence person-who said-our-broseph-of-Chinesce-descent-are-not-patriotic-because-there-are-very-few-in-the-army drama and all the song and dance that followed, but since I am told that I share the same DNA composition with the natives of Taiwan who are by default considered Chinese which is all wrong but who the fuck cares, I now feel obligated to offer my views about all this hoo and haaa here. All because I too am offended by the minister of defence person's comment.

Because I am by default, Chinese and from Taiwan. Which is all wrong but fuck all!

And here it is. Again, in Verdana font, large and bold.

But this time, imagine that Ravi dude striking a tune or two on his sitar. And in the background, James Earl Jones voice saying....

"...cuntsider the tadpoles...they will become frogs and some, toads. Indeed, some will die but some people will watch those that lives and write a lot of papers about them. Some people may already have. Like how Jane Goodall watched chimps all her life and wrote about them which later earned her the initial Dr at the front of her name."

That is all.

Thank you.

Salam 1Dunia. Terima Kasih.

Now, fuck off! Im serious.

Fuck off!

Monyet

2010-11-12T08:54:00.002+08:00

I didn't want to be pulled into this kid-got-caned-because-he-brought-pork lunch-to-school-and-now-his-dad-says-he's-not-of-the-Muslim-faith-anymore shindig but since I went to the same school, I find I'm duty bound to do my piece here.

And here it is. In Verdana font, large and bold.

Jane Goodall watched chimps all her life and loved it. She did not just watch but wrote lots of papers about them which later earned her the initial Dr at the front of her name.

That is all. Thank you.

Salam 1Dunia. Terima Kasih.

Now, fuck off!

Really. Fuck off!

Nothing is Real

2010-11-10T09:55:00.003+08:00

Somewhere in the corner of my mind or what little is left, there registers the things going on around me.

Nothing is part of me.

Not a fucking thing is real. It's only me that counts. It's only me that'll remain. Long after ruminations of what is gone and the memories of elapsed time which is scattered to the wind.

Like fucking robots I mechanically go in the flow. I eat, talk, earn and fuck.

Day after day, night after night, time and again reminding myself that one day it will be all worth it.

One fucking day.

I tell myself that I have a dream and it is finally within grasp. Within my reach. If only I could just take a moment to remember what my fucking dream was.

Sometimes, like a cold damp cloth over my thoughts, shit gets clouded. Grey mists swell around and not a fucking thing seems real.

The moments of life lost in living.

But really, is there such a thing as happiness and sorrow after all? Or is there only one state of life?

The being state where you like, 'be'. Totally and complete aware of yourself, aware of your heart beat, aware of each breath you take, aware of the tangled webs surrounding you but still realize that you weaved them all.

Like, you actually asked for it .

Fuck all. I don't know, man.

Delayed

2010-10-15T16:17:00.004+08:00

You watched 'Love Actually' yet? Its an old one. Corny as shit, I know. Watched that one last night in my hotel room. Couldn't sleep. Too much beer.

But the dudes who came up with the line - on finding love in an airport - at the beginning of the movie must be seriously delusional. I might not have the authority to condemn the writer but I most definitely have some authority to talk about airports.

I want to talk about airports. I spend hours at airports. I travel for work. I travel a lot. And it might sound like an uber glamorous thing to some but believe me, traveling and spending hours at airports is nowhere close to being glam and shit. Especially as I write this, my flight is delayed by some fucking three hours. And this throbing headache isn't helping one bit.

Airports are just fucking hostile. Its full of overworked and sleepless flight staff. The humanoid zombie kind. I see fake smiles and the carefully modulated tone so as to not sound irritated. I usually take flights in mornings or late evenings. And I see no fucking love at airports. I see red-eyed tired people, glued on to their berry's or phones with an I.

I see a lot of them floating around in the bookshops but fewer people read books nowadays. I see parking hassles and 10-second goodbyes outside the airports. And I just realised fucking airports are an organized chaos. Flights are usually delayed like a domino effect. And the airline food? Forever fucking unappetizing. Everything is either rushed or delayed.

But just now, as I got out of my cab I saw a guy sending off his girlfriend and amidst the honking and fucking rush hour chaos, they hugged for 30 seconds, and I could have sworn noticing their eyes closed. I guess that must be the remaining fragment of 'Love Actually' that Hugh Grant spoke about in the movie.

Exception from the rule, right there.

But, fuck all! My flights still fucking delayed.

Strong People

2010-10-12T08:35:00.000+08:00

I have a few friends and family members who've been through a lot of bullshit in their lives. Cancer stricken kids, financial ruin and all sorts of other shit. And what is amazing is that they are still able to wake up every morning all fine. Having known these people for a long time, I know for sure it isn't denial.

I know denial.

Everyday they were smiling, as if nothing was wrong. I also realise that deep inside, it wasn't the same picture. An that there is pain. But still they smile.

I find these types of people highly inspiring. Their strength is undeniably commendable. If I were to go through a tremendous amount of pain, I’ll think of these people so that I can smile too.

Its good to keep strong people around.

But right now, there's these bills in front of me and I just dont fucking know what to do with them. Not that I don't know. I actually do. Apart from throwing them in the bin, I do know that I need to chalk out a couple of big moolah to fix this. There's also these two letters of demand.

Ahhhh, fuck it.

A Study In Moron

2010-09-20T14:08:00.013+08:00

I love it whenever there's a police report made against a certain individual of high profile, a group, company and whatever, they'd gather around and take pictures of themselves while holding the police report. The designated clown in the group always points at the report just to make sure the message or whatever sinks in.

Fucking classic, man.

And of late, the plethora of awesomeness in our local news continues with underlying tones of racism, religious fanaticism, bad fashion taste, court comedy and just plain stupidty mostly by morons in high office. Nothing new there but did you watch that classic performance by this equally moronic looking prosecutor in that now famous suicide inquest? I did and man, how I laughed! Like fucking really L.O. fucking L!

What was meant to be a cross examination do turned out to be a fucking court room comedy. And the feeble attempt by the prosecutor to speaking the england was just fucking hilarious. They should just play this gig at every fucking law school and title it as 'how to fail your law exam'.

Fucking classic again, man.

And as if that wasn't enough to shame the local legal fraternity, now we have killer lawyers too. That was on the front page the other day after they were caught as prime suspects in the murder of four. Theres talk of a few more unsolved murders linked to the killers. Murder most grusome, if you ask me. And then nine dogs were put down. Don't know what crime the dogs did but they were put down. Says in the paper, dogs belongs to the lawyers. The killer lawyers. And just now, a friend of the same fraternity called. He just laughed and laughed and in between he said, "Killers, we're now killers!". And alughed some more and then hung up.

Fucking moronic lawyer.

And did you also watch this other moronic looking sorry excuse for a man going 'shit, shit, shit' in an interview on this foreign news station? Equally fucking good watch, this one. You know this guy as this demented old man who heads this awesomeness of a group whose goals and aims are basically to defend the sanctity of their race and pretty much whatever there is to their race.

To be honest, I really don't know where the fuck all these will take us.

Okay, so we have folks who are just fucking proud, in fact too proud to identify with their race. And to the point of just being moronic. Then there are folks who are ashamed of who they are. Which is equally fucking moronic.

Morons.

So, we on this side of the island got our 16 September, the date 47 years ago when the three states of Singapore, Sabah and Sarawak formed the nation of Malaysia along with Malaya. Of course Singapore pulled out not long after but look at them. They're doing pretty well.

I hear this is a special day now. Special, because thats what every DJ on our local radio kept telling me. There was much cheer on the radio. Some celebration of sorts was planned in town and somewhere else, I think. But thats what the DJ said.

A friend later told me the local indoor stadium was packed and the usual song and dance happened. Flag waving and all that.

Nice.

Happy days ahead, my flag waving Malaysian compadres!

Happy days!

Also, King Julien in the Penguins of Madagascar is fucking funny.

Orgasmic Religion And Morons

2010-09-05T21:59:00.004+08:00

Its Sunday and I just got back from my dose of the good news and such.

It was good.

I don't know about you but I always thought of religion mainly as the cause of those hideously boring Sunday school sessions. It was only fun when chocolates and sweets were given around.

It is still boring now. Hideously boring most of the time. Today was good, though.

Back then when I was shorter, when I think of religion I think of people murmuring unintelligible sounds while trying to feel really bad about themselves so Big G wouldn't get pissed off and thunderbolt their fucking ass. Or if they actually knew what they were saying, it was basically an attempt to suck up to Big G to get what they wanted. But only on rare occasions when they were really screwed and had no other options. Most of the time it was just a strange social obligation. Go to church because other people will think badly of them if they didn't.

For me, going to church was mainly because of a certain very nice Christian girl I had the hardest of hard on's. Ohhhh, how I sinned every time I saw her in church. Yes and verily I say, I fucking sinned every minute of the two hours each Sundays.

For the life of me, I don't know where she is now but I wish her well. I don't think she knew but some day I will tell her. Of my hard on's on those Sunday mornings. That would be nice I think.

Anyway.

There were some value in the holiday rituals I participated in but slight, to say the least. And so religion for me when I was growing up was just an additional social responsibility. Like showering and not saying things or murmuring shit loads of radda-yabara-aaamaa-mama-gaya that made other people uncomfortable.

But just recently, I re-discovered religion. I re-experienced being born again. I found the white man's religion, Christianity again. And what it's all about.

I was at a friend's house yesterday, chilling out in his small garden and having a deep conversation while downing them big cats when suddenly after my 8th and 12th of his, he exclaimed, "Oh, wow! Look at the sun."

And I did. And it was gorgeous.

I felt such satisfaction. Taking in the beauty, I just felt a spontaneous urge to thank the creator of that sunset. It was as if that certain nice and very Christian girl unexpectedly kissed me on the cheek. I felt excited and happy and affectionate. Almost gay like. Or whatever.

I wanted to give Big G a hug or a smile or something.

And I think that's what real prayer is. Not kissing Big G's ass like he's a friggin boss you're trying to get a raise from. And just like that, it all made sense. Finally, I realise all those prayers praising Big G made fucking sense.

I'm still a little skeptical about all these institutionalized religion and I still go to chirch, yes. But now I'm beginning to get a sense of the impulse that originally created these religions. These traditions. It started with someone who had a personal relationship with Big G, like you might with a dog or your car or something.

Then them morons and weirdos saw that person and tried to emulate his actions rather than trying to understand him and his thoughts and feelings.

Here is an analogy.

Let's say knowing Big G is like having ooooh, I don't know. An orgasm, maybe. People see someone having an orgasm and they go like, "I want to get me some of that". And start copying the persons distorted face and grunting sounds. Meanwhile, the serious seekers start learning about sex. Often times the distorted face copiers get fucking pissed off, frightened, disgusted or jealous and try to kill the serious seekers or drive them out of town.

But that's all fucked up because if them morons would just stick around a little longer, they might just get fucking some.

Fucking morons!

Where was I? Errrr...

Hibiscus

2010-09-03T15:37:00.008+08:00

In conjunction with the celebration of Malaya's independence day a few days ago, a celebration also recognized by us here on this part of the big island, I thought it would be appropriate for me to put up this photo of our national flower, the hibiscus rosa sinensis.

Why, you ask?

Well, just because.

Porn

2010-08-26T09:49:00.004+08:00

I noticed I haven't posted anything about porn.

And I think I need some lower elements to balance out all this spiritual philosophising.

Okay. So I have a lot of porn. Japanese ones.

Recently, I had a conversation with a female friend about how bad porn is for women. It's degrading and objectifies them and supposedly encourages violence towards them.

I felt a little guilty, and made a note to make sure she never found me with my stash.

I think the whole feminism thing is a bit weird. Just another thing for angry people to be angry about. And then they bandy around the terms like genocide and rape and try to blame it on whatever it is they don't like.

Fuckarama loads of bullfuckingshit.

The violence that happens in the world is really a very sad thing. It does not happen because of one thing or another. There are many reasons. But all of it involves this - not being kind, not being nice.

If you want to stop violence or pollution or anything, the person you have to start with is yourself.

Well, why aren't you stopping shit, bitch?

Same reason why I ain't doing shit for shit.

Arrggh, whats the fucking point?

More and more MORONS

2010-08-18T10:08:00.007+08:00

mo·ron

–noun
1. a person who is notably stupid or lacking in good judgment.
2. Psychology . a person of borderline intelligence in a former classification of mental retardation, having an IQ of 50 to 69.

So I was browsing a popular local internet news portal when I read this.

Sibu - Two morons working for the (local drug enforcement agency) were arrested on suspicion that they sold their enforcement identity cards....etc

Like, fucking hell, man. Our local news are getting better everyday.

M-O-R-O-N-S.

Waved

2010-08-06T09:41:00.000+08:00

As I was driving pass this shopping mall, the traffic crawled to a slow pace. My sight was immediately trained at this pretty girl in the crowd as people and the scenery rolled by my car window when the same pretty girl turned and started waving excitedly.

I paused.

Dumbstruck.

Then smiled and waved back.

She suddenly stopped waving and I could tell the puzzled look on her face. I turned to my side and saw another pretty girl waving back at her from across the road. Embarrased now, I quickly held down my hand but she continued on waving, jumping up and down a bit and getting more excited. Her two friends joined in. Waving. She then pointed at my general direction and I could read 'yes, you' on her lips.

Sheepishly, I waved back.

Bitch.

It was silly and simply and very much nothing. But it made me happy in a way I haven't been in a while.

It is the simple things that make life like fucking nice. In a way.

Except, if it was in a pub, it would have been much more exciting.

Because there would be beer.

Whatever.

More Morons

2010-07-28T12:03:00.024+08:00

Not so long ago, we were asked to change our lifestyle after the then government of the fucking day jacked up fuel price. And I'm like, what the fuck do I have to change if I don't have a fucking lifestyle? Shit happens, they say and so they did just that. Just for the hell of it, they then scaled it downwards months later to what they thought was an affordable figure. Price of fuel didn't get lower and still pricey and is still pricey now but fuck it, I'll lived. In the midst of all the whatdafucks, one minister even suggested we start growing our own vegetables. And I'm like, fuck I will.

I'm still like fuck I will, even today.

So, fuck you!

Then just recently there is this 'realisation' of somethingsomething on something or some shit like that. A whole literature about this realisation thing was printed in the paper but like fuck I read shit like that. Only thing I know is that this realisation somethingsomething realised the price of fuel upwards.

Again.

Sugar and cooking oil too. And as usual, I'm fucked all around.

I'm fine with all this realisation somethingsomething but when some fucking minister goes around saying we use too much fuel and that we must now reduce its usage, I get fucking fuckarama pissed fucking off.

If the person has an ounce of brain in his fucking head he should just go shoot himself in the fucking gonads. That is if has an ounce. Of gonads.

Fucking moron!

Man, I swear to Gee, this fucking country is veering towards madfuckingness.

Like, its as if they think we burn more fuel just for the fucking kick of it. Do we actually have a fucking choice that we HAVE to use more? You just have to look at our local transport system, our fucking roads, not the ones in Malaya, and maybe apply fucking common sense. Fuck, even in Malaya, with all their LRT's, monorail this and that and what the fuck all is all fucked up. Everybody I know still fucking drives.

And on the radio this morning, a minister suggested we should now go for them hybrid cars. And I'm like, FUCK YOU TOO!

Does he even know how much a fucking hybrid cost? I'm already defaulting my loan installment like fuck on my fuel guzzling ride and now he tells me to go hybrid?

Fuck you, you fucking moron!

And is that other moron serious when he said the devil looks like Man U's little red person just because it has two horns, pointed tail, pitchfork and all? Fucking fucktard!

I'll tell you how the devil looks like. She's got ZZ Top crazy beard. Sometimes. Wears shades, uber long curly hair and sports a bob sometimes. She smokes Marlboro Lights. Fuck, sometimes she drinks Tiger beer. And yes, she is really a woman.

Fuck man, already the world is laughing at us for the fuck ups. Now, its like we just really want to be fucking assholes.

I say, fuck you!

Really, fuck you!

Lord Of The Jungle

2010-07-15T14:22:00.002+08:00

Years ago when I was young and much shorter, Ron Ely played Tarzan on TV and I desperately wanted to be him. He was everything that a young and short boy like me aspired to be. His skills at handling animals, the chimp, the jungle and that kid whatshisname were a terrible obsession for me.

What more could a young boy want to be but a man for all seasons, battling them bad guys, deadly creatures and best of all, being able to fuck the nubile Jane. Really, I even thought about fucking Jane when I was younger and shorter.

Apart from going to school and coming home to homework's and shit, life was pretty much a dull affair then. The parental units were regimental and religiously raised their two young and short kids by the ways of the fucking Spetsnaz. Fuck, we even had a fucking time table when we got home from school and the only break we had was on Sundays and even then, we were forced to go to fucking Sunday School. It didn't help that the father was once upon a time a school teacher.

But me and my equally young and short bro, we managed. We often slipped out of the house after the parents left for work, scrambled to the jungle near our house and did our shit.

Our house was on a hill near our sorry ass for a beach. We'd walked to the small jungle patch nearby with our neighbour and we'd find squirrels in the trees or a wily wolf slinking along in the half light. Ok, maybe not a wolf but some stray cats or dogs or some shit like that.

And at that time I didn't know how to swim. But Tarzan, he swam with enormous energy at an amazing speed and he could do the whooooaaaahhhhoooaaaaaaahhhh like he meant it.

The other young and short kid, my bro and I often attempted to build a tree house, filching our father's tools, nails and pieces of wood to construct a miserable platform that fell to bits because we were just not competent enough. We competed of course as to whom was actually Tarzan and I being the tallest, became him. The other two never had a chance.

Generally, our efforts were doomed because we had no sense of quiet. Everything we did was noisily performed. The birds and squirrels kept very clear of us and so did all the potential Janes who on hearing our whooping calls made off in the opposite direction. Ok, there were no girls.

Those were the good times.

But that was then. When I was younger and much shorter.

Things are different now.

I watch porn and sometimes I want to be Hikaru Koto.

That is all.

The D in Dee Minus

2010-07-09T10:00:00.002+08:00

I just finished reading the newspaper and I kind of hate myself right now. There's just really nothing good to read in there.

Okay, maybe hate isn't quite the right word. That shit implies a violent emotion, one which desires to destroy or hurt the object of hatred. It's more like a frustration and despair. And I definitely feel like the fucking D in dee minus.

Why?

Well, fucking because I have ideas about who and what I should be, and should be doing, and I'm not those people and I'm not doing those things. Or anything remotely close.

Like I'm not a wildly successful entrepreneur for fucking green technologies and I'm not a world changing activist who inspires millions to take up arms against our destructive system and plant gardens. I'm also not a spiritual bad ass who gives up everything to find a perfect master and totally trusts in the God with a big G. I'm certainly not a normal bad ass who devotes himself to some mastery and uses it to better the fucking country.

These are things that I'm fucking not.

And fuck all, I think they are better, more important jobs than mine.

And for fucking crying out loud, why can't I strike that 6/58 already?

Charmeleon Karma

2010-06-23T14:00:00.010+08:00

I've been slaving my ass off the past couple of weeks. Slave master decided to amuse himself by delegating more of what he refers to as 'important responsibilities' on my front. I didn't want it but it was, according to him, for the good of the whole outfit or some bullshit like that. I'm not complaining. It's them elves I'm concern about. There are already signs of unrest among them but screw that. The slatmine's in a bit of a mess but I'm just tired of this shit right now.

And again on the issue of death, one of my favourite rock god - with a small 'g' - died last month. Ronnie James Dio, front man of the band Dio. He was 67 and if you didn't know yet, Ron made the 'devil's horn' sign popular. You know that sign. Curl your two middle fingers like this and...nevermind.

I also made it for the Gawai do at the longhouse this year which turned out to be good as always. Arrived on the eve and because I couldn't do it last year, I was received with much drunkard enthusiasm. One of the men cordially informed me the drinking had started the day before. Thus, justifying the fact that one has to get into the drinking rhythm lest one wants to get totally wasted for the next three days. It's like this - if you drink as much as you can before the festivity and continue drinking, theres a chance you wont get totally wasted. Drunk, yes. But not wasted. Or some concept like that.

Totally bullshit.

I was literally dragged to the 'ruai' and owing to the liberal distribution of beer from Belgium and mostly from China, drunkenness obviously came into play and the whole scene was converted into careless amusement and noisy talk on frivolous subjects which were more or less at the expense of those sitting around.

Me included.

I seriously can't remember what happened for the next three days I was there but it was an orgy of drinking, eating and just being blissfully happy. Which pretty much sums up what Gawai's all about. At least for some people.

It was really fun.

And this morning, this dude walks into the office, introduced himself at the front desk and said he wanted to see me.

My telephone rings.

Ms. H : Boss, there's this gentleman who wants to see you. Says his name is George.

Me : George? I don't think I have a George this morning and...'click'.

Before I could finish, Ms. H was at my door with George.

I showed him his chair and we shook hands. Said he was from Ulu Krian and was responding to a letter we had apparently sent him. He produced the letter and says he has a flight to Singapore to catch in the afternoon. It was addressed to a George Anak Meran.

He was uneasy. Nervous.

Ms. H returned with his file and I pretended to look important while flipping through the meaningless paper in the file.

Me : So George, says here you were involved in an accident in 2008. Yes?

George : Yes. And errrr...my name is Boy George, actually.

Before I could say anything, he reached inside his bag and slid his passport across the table.

I flipped to the front page and thats when I started to laugh.

Very loudly.

"Boy George Anak Meran"

Boy fucking George, yo!!!!! I fucking swear!!!!

DIE, YOU!

2010-04-30T16:56:00.009+08:00

But everything in life is such a risk factor, isn't it?

Even not doing anything can bring about illness. Everything should just come with a warning label. Nothing truly holds a treat, only because fucking everything holds a potential threat.

My good frined's sister was just diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Of the worse kind or whatever that fucking means. And she just turned 23 last month. Nothing is fucking sacred. Even in youth.

Everyone you meet has something that will potentially kill them, even if it happens to be a pair of legs that take them in direct path of a fucking speeding truck. We all die, so why even think of banning things that have a potential life threatening aid in them, like fucking cigarettes?

What's the point? Everyone fucking dies.

If I'm walking down the street and get bashed in the head and subsequently die, I get bashed in the head and die. If I live to 80, I live to be 80. If some fuckers puts fucking poison in my can of big cat at a bar, fucker poisons me at the bar. There is truly nothing I can do to stop it. I can cheat death, but I will one day succumb to it. Fucking murderers and rapists die, kids die, parents die, murderers, nuns and even MJ. He died too. Everyone fucking dies.

And so will I.

Why, you ask?

Because everything is a ticking time bomb waiting to fucking kill you.

Hospital and The Unknown

2010-04-27T18:30:00.003+08:00

I hate hospitals. The government funded ones and also the private ones with them gleaming polished linoleum floors and expensive sofas in the lounge.

No. I think I hate seeing people being sick more. And I hate knowing the sick person is eventually going to die.

I was at the hospital this evening.

And as I sat there watching them sitting around in the room, no one speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall and an occasional cough were the only sounds in the room. We're on the critical unit floor.

Outside, in the hall, the sound of shoes clicking, thumping and squeaking on the polished floor and muffled conversations could be heard. The beep beeping of equipments from the intensive care rooms further amplifies the sombre mood.

Our small group was in limbo. I can feel how they feel. It is as if you're not a part of the living and yet, not dead. Waiting for the news to come in was brutal. Flashback from the days I spent with my now departed aunt while at the same hospital months ago suddenly overwhelms me.

And now this.

Each nurse and doctor that came towards the plate glass and then walks pass made their blood rush and trickle as they went by. The same questions is in everyone’s head. The what-ifs, maybes, if onlys. The ultimate question of mortality, and the accounting for their own lives.

Then she walked in. She paused at the door way and managed a smile. The nurse's face gave no clue as she beckoned them to follow her down the hallway. The squeak of her shoes set a cadence as they marched behind her.

To face the unknown.

Nasiblah

2010-04-14T11:52:00.002+08:00

I was 12.

I think.

And I was at the village when I first heard this one. Probably the most popular song in the valley of our tribe at the time. And there's that 'Yang Penting Hepi' by Jamal Mirdad.

Fucking HEPI, man.

Jamal Mirdad and Lis Sugianto rawks!

Ode To Anon

2010-04-07T14:39:00.003+08:00

I've not had the time to come in here as I was busy like them whores at Reservoir Park the past few weeks. And I need to make an apology. To a certain someone. I also realise today that I have many people coming here to read my shit and the thought of that gives me a fucking hard on. If you should know, they are 9 of you who comes here every now and then. And that is a fucking big number to me. I'll set a fan base soon. So watch this page!

I especially need to apologise to Anon (I refer to this person as Anon as the person wants to remain Anonymous for reasons only known to the person. And I think Anon gives the person a certain identity and also Anon rhymes with Enon, like Mak Enon, the evil old lady actor who gave me repeated nightmares for nights on end when I was 7 years old).

Anon apparently comes in here to read me on two certain dates. And that's on Valentines and April Fools day. The thought that someone actually remembers coming in here on two dates of the year also sends shivers of the good kind to my nether region. I feel like I'm being stalked and naked.

I know I have neglected this years fools day and for that I must apologise to you, Anon.

So here now is my apology.

Fuck you!

Now go do something worth your time. Like watch grass grow or something.

On a more serious note.

I would also like to say "You're really fucked now, Bro!" to my bratha from a different momma, Jas, for being so fucking stooopid. He just got himself entangled into this matrimonial enslavement thing.

Three words, bro - YOU DONT FUCING KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU GOT YOURSELF INTO!!!

WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!!

On The Road

2010-04-06T13:54:00.003+08:00

Living to my principle of trying something and anything at least once in my life, I am proud to announce here that last night I've finally treaded on the road less taken.

I have savoured the forbidden apple which tasted so revolting good and drank blissfully from the cup of Gonoth Borogoth.

And for that,

I thank you.

Yesss. You.

Now fuck off.

Take This Song Out Of My Head

2010-03-23T16:56:00.002+08:00

It's an immutable fact of life that when a song decides to take possession of that spot in your head, it's almost always a fucking crappy one, dredged from some deep, unfathomable hole in your mind which houses the worst songs ever to be written and to be heard.

And the song goes round and round like a record babe right round round round....fuck! I mean like a hamster on its wheel, getting rid of any coherent thoughts before they can even form. There isn't any logic to which songs my brain latches on to... nothing's a barrier when it comes to picking irritating tunes. Even if I deliberately try to think of songs I like, once my attention is diverted, the fucking thing sneakily crawls right back.

In the past few days, I've been listening to the radio playing all these crappy songs in an unending loop. They say joy shared is doubled. Maybe so, but pain shared is even better because pain shared is...errr, pain spread around.

So that you don't suffer alone.

Selfish? But what else would you wish for with songs like these ones?

Songs like - Spin Me Round, The Cheeky Song and that mega stupid I'm A Barbie Girl. And also that Dr Jones shit. The fact that Crazy Frog was played a few times this week didn't make things easier on the mood.

And the one that's driven me to write this one out of sheer desperation is Spin Me Round. Yep, that song from three decades back. The irritating part is that I seem to know the entire lyrics to that miserable damn song. I've not even seen the entire video and I can't stand the stupid pretend to be blind in one eye singer either. So WHY oh fucking WHY is "spin me round round like a record babe right round round round" skittering around in my head like a fucking demented bird in a cage?

Seriously, I think I'm about ready for that homicidal maniac with the fucking heavy construction issue sledgehammer.

Seriously.

...round right round round round...like a record babe...

Fuck man!

Automatic

2010-03-15T10:18:00.002+08:00

Dead

2010-03-05T13:34:00.003+08:00

There has definitely been an inordinate amount of stress about me recently.

The past weeks has brought the sudden death of an old course mate and culminated in the unexplainable murder and suicide of two people I know.

I would have thought this year would start with a cheerful note.

But no.

I have the strangest feeling that its not going to be good at all this year. I just fucking do. But fuck it.

I got the call early on Saturday morning. I was still in bed. The caller said he shot her and then took off towards the jungle with his shot gun. The caller had the cheek to add that he may have the buck shots I gave him months ago. And then on Tuesday they found him. Slumped face down in a hut with half of his face blown off.

Fucking tragic.

A week before that I was up north on a job and was drinking with an old friend I haven't met since we left college. He used to be my housemate. Four days later, I get a call from his brother and tells me he's had a heart attack.

Its no wonder over the past few weeks, I’ve half expected to look in the mirror and find myself transformed into a withered and decrepit son of a bitch.

Its not looking very good down at the saltmine either.

Ah, fuck it.

Where's that fucking beer?

Weary

2010-02-10T13:00:00.004+08:00

I feel like I live in a world of oxymoron's.

And regular morons, too. Fucking morons.

Nevermind.

I think I must be fucked up inside my head. I've been sleeping a lot lately.

Like, a LOT.

I didn't work yesterday. Instead of taking advantage of having a day off, though, I pretty much slept my day away. I just really, really needed the rest.

I seem to do nothing much more than sleep and read. No energy, desire, motivation to do anything else. Can't even have a proper hard on watching Hikaru Koto. She's not fun now.

Its 11:46pm and i feel tired. Time to get into some deep REM shit before I get jerked out of it and then to slave my shit off for my fucking masters.

Ahhh...my weary soul.

The Drink

2010-02-08T10:00:00.003+08:00

The fucking evilness I share very close quarters with cannot be seen nor felt but it is very real.

It would sink its teeth into my best laid plans on an almost daily basis if I let it. And when it grabs me in its fucking jaws, it takes all of my strength to prise them open and jump out.

Sometimes the mo'fucker steps in, especially on the days I am feeling particularly down and sometimes when I'm happy and at just the fucking right time I welcome it in with open arms even allowing it hang around with me for a couple of hours, 5 to 10 hours at a stretch.

Sometimes, that is.

It always outstays its welcome though, and I end up having sometimes to forcibly kick it out. It doesn’t seem to mind my rude ways though as it keeps coming back. And thats fine by me.

But it’s an annoying distraction this fucking evilness.

After each visit, it leaves in its wake thousands of gravity hammer pounding at the back of my head. And sometimes for fun, he opts for ice picks. And the fucker never helps me clear up the mess that is left at the end of each visits and it always, fucking always leaves me feeling fucking guilty- especially on the days I grudgingly give it a little room to flex its muscles.

But I wonder sometimes if I really ever want to get rid of it.

It’s kind of like an old buddy now. But one you just fucking loooove to hate.

I wouldn't even really call it a 'friend' though inspite of our knowledge of each other spanning many years. Just, buddy. Besides, if I had known back then what it was going to be like, I wouldn’t even have allowed it its present status of acquaintance. But over the years, we have learned to tolerate each other and that fucking works just fine for us.

I know some of you even unwittingly entertained it on occasions and did I happen to mention that its also very cunning? Sometimes it pretends to do you a favour when in fact, it is really out to fucking fuck you up inside out.

I know this but do I care? Fuck, no!!!

I just loooooove my evilness...

Meat

2010-01-31T08:39:00.000+08:00

Meat grinder personnel

Meat enhancing device

Hanging meat

Meat eating

My New Year

2010-01-29T14:46:00.002+08:00

I just find it hard to understand a certain group of people.

High on the list are those who embrace this idea of celebrating the day of love or romance in the name of this very dead and possibly queer person we all know as Valentine.

I also don't understand people who takes pride in mocking other people's intelligence on Fools Day that happens, yes, every 1st of April.

And then there are those who asks me how my new year's been like.

This 2010 thing.

I mean, for the love of everything sacred, how in the world do you answer queries like that?

"Hows your new year so far, bro?". And I'm like whiskey tango foxtrot all around.

For the past weeks since the 1st of this month, I've had calls and e mails from friends and kin who asked me this same shit. And when I bumped into Jimmy this morning, I felt compelled to vent about this shit here.

Consider this...

Jim : Yo, dude! Hows you, bro?

Me : Hey, Jim. Its been a long time. I'm fine, man.

Jim : Yeah. Hows your new year so far, man?

And I was like, MY new year? MINE? New year?

Me : Errr...good I guess. I've had 6 beers last night and that makes 47 this month. So I think its been good.

Jim : Urrrmmm...yeeaaaah. Nice. I'll call you soon, man. See ya.

Me : Fuck off...

See what I mean? But just in case you're one of those who have nothing else to ask me and for some reason, you're itching to know how my new year has evolved so far, here's how its been like.

Kicked off with grand dad choosing to go to the happy hunting ground on the very last day of 2009.

And I fucking think that was so cool. And I think he was also cool with the whole arrangement.

Nevermind.

And todate, I've also had 47 beers. I'm counting this year. I have a list going.

There. Thats it.

That's how.

So now, fuck off.

Gramps Beulah Land

2010-01-05T10:11:00.002+08:00

31 December 2009

O Beulah land, sweet Beulah land!
As on thy highest mount I stand,
I look away across the sea
Where mansions are prepared for me
And view the shining glory shore
My heaven, my home forever more.

I Loathe

2009-12-30T10:16:00.002+08:00

- People who profess to be fucking religious and really think they are just because they donate huge amounts of money to whatever religious organisation they belong to. While in fucking reality, they're really fucking depraved, lying, swindling, fucking money-grubbing offspring of fucking unknown parentage!!!

- Noisy, drunken bastards and bastardesses (for want of a better word) who don't care there are people other than them in the pub who would also like the chance to enjoy themselves quietly!!!

- Advertisers on television or anywhere else who make ads with ridiculous claims while trying to sound scientific about their nonsense. And they come up with phrases like 'miracle grow organic fruit oils', 'extract of bitter gourd in its purest form' and so on fucking pisses me off!!! The ones that deliberately exaggerate just to be humorous are fine. At least those are fucking fun to watch.

- People who call me on my direct line at the saltmine by mistake (like dialing the wrong number, for instance) and then sound annoyed when I tell them it's fucking us, not whoever they wanted. I didn't fucking call them, did I??? Fucking morons!!!

- Salespersons who, if you buy something, immediately ask you for the names and addresses of 17 other people you know who would like to do exactly what you've done because if you 'get 17 of your friends to join us/buy from us, you'll get this cheap, crappy plastic bag for fucking free'! A variation is "If you buy 3 of whatever, you can get the next whatever at half-price'.

Like, riiiiiggghht?

- People who keep using my name when speaking to me. In every fucking sentence!!! This is for them. Any of them, all of them.

I fucking know my name!!!

You know my name!!!

I know you know my name!!!

Dont wear it out in one fucking conversation!!!

More than anything else, it's annoying. It's the most obvious sales ploy in the fucking world! It does not make me feel closer to you. Or more willing to do what you want. Unless your name is Hikaru Koto. And dont stand so fucking close to me. The phrase 'one-on-one' does not mean you need to be so close physically that I am forced to inhale your fucking breath.

Fucking imbecilisitic MORONS!!!

Joy To All

2009-12-25T10:57:00.002+08:00

What if ribbons and bows didn't mean a thing,
ould the song still survive without five golden rings,
Would you still wanna kiss without a misletoe,
What would happen if God never let it snow,
What would happen if Christmas carols told a lie,
Tell me what would you find.

You'd see that today holds something special,
Something holy, not superficial.
So here's to the birthday boy who saved our lives.

It's something we all try to ignore,
And put a wreath up on your door.
So here's something you should know that is for sure.

Christmas must be something more...

What if angels did not pay attention to all the things that we wished they would always do,
What if happiness came in a cardboard box,
Then I think there is something we all forgot.

What would happen if presents all went away,
Tell me what would you find.

We get so caught up in all of it,
Business and relationships,
Hundred mile an hour lives.

And it's this time of year,
And everybody's here,
It seems the last thing on your mind,
Is that the day holds something specia,l
Something holy, not superficial,

So here's to Jesus Christ who saved our lives!

Eve Of The Day And I'm At Work

2009-12-24T10:21:00.000+08:00

There's hardly anyone here today, except for me.

One of the very few poor bastard or should I say stupid moron in my office working the day before Christmas. I didn't want to, believe me but..arrgh, fuck it! Its no use. I'm here and fuck all.

There are a few little things I could be doing, work-related things, but none are that important and I don't feel like I want to. But really, are you not expected, almost required, to goof off if you have to be in the day before a big holy day?

Especially when it's so quiet, so few people around.

I chatted for a while with one of the only other elves for a while this morning. But then he left early. Says his girlfriend called and said she was sick and that she was at her mom's and he had to go home and take care of her goldfish or something like that. All bullshit but more power to him for coming up with an excuse to leave work.

Next I spent a good solid hour wasting time on the internet until that got boring. Then I started daydreaming. That quickly turned into some erotic fantasizing that got me seriously errr...wanting. Which then turned frustrating. And now I can't get fantasies of doing Hikaru Koto out of my mind.

I guess there's only one more thing to do then. Close the door, surf on some Japanese porn, pull down my pants and masturbate until lunch time.

I'm kidding! I'm kidding!

Anyhow, have a good one tomorrow, y'all!

Tough Year

2009-12-19T10:51:00.002+08:00

As the end of the year draws to a close, it seems apparent that other such things are also coming to an end.

It's the time of year again.

Time to look within ourselves and find what we don't like and make wild claims about what we'll change and shit like like that. Come end of this month, I'll be looking in the mirror again and asking myself what achievement I've made for myself.

That is why I don't like December.

I am not quite sure where this year had gone, what I've achieved and yet somehow its a mere six days to the celebration of Yeshua's womb evacuation day and emotionally, I'm still in the same place and pretty much still disillusioned.

Was this year fine or just simply mediocre?

I certainly did some good. I did some charity work. Nothing great although I wished now that I did more. Oh, I finally made an effort to quit smoking. I used to go without for two or three months but its always been an emotional roller coaster rides of highs and lows. This time though, I'm good. Well, technically I still do but only the good stuff. But even that, only when the good stuff's available.

As the course draws to a close I fucking hope that the new year will bring some assurance of comfort. This year had been pretty tough. Fuck, last year and the year before that was tough.

But as the new year beckons, I couldn't help but wonder what the future holds in store.

I know we all will be embarking on new directions and shit like that. Yet this excitement is clouded by the inevitable change which will occur. Will all the shit we did this year and the events and stuff we shared with people become merely distant memories?

I don't know.

In the meantime, I'm going to pick myself up, dust myself off and go with the flow.

Pink Gunk

2009-12-17T10:24:00.004+08:00

The common toilet on out office floor has a generic-looking soap dispenser. Every once in a while, I've noticed that the cleaning lady gets a little lazy about refilling the soap dispenser. And rather than taking the empty soap thing out of the dispenser and replacing it with a new soap refill, she'll just leave the soap refill down next to the sink for people to use.

And what an unfortunate-looking soap refill it is.

You see, its basically this bag of pink soap with a rubber tube jutting out of the bottom of it. When put in the dispenser the pink bag and the rubber tube are completely hidden from view. When it's just sitting out next to the sink though and not in the dispenser, there's no nondescript little lever or button to push to get soap to come out. Instead, you have to squeeze the rubber tube. It's kind of like having to squeeze a really tiny little dick that shoots pink stuff into your palm.

Seriously, every time I see that little refill sitting all by itself next to a sink, I see a tiny little dick. And every time I've had to sqeeze that rubber tube to get the soap, I've had sexual thoughts...errr...gross sexual thoughts. I've often wondered if other people in the office and our neighbours thinks the same and feels kind of dirty - how's that for irony- whenever they have to wash their hands.

I've never heard anybody else make a comment about it. Out loud, anyway.

But this morning, when I went to take a dump and saw another refill sitting on the edge of the sink, there was a note stuck on it. I don't know if they did this as a joke, recognizing what everybody probably thinks anyway and leaving a note to give people a laugh, in which case, well done whoever you are. Or if they were seriously offended and did this to try to get the cleaning lady to stop leaving refills by the sink instead of replacing them inside the actual dispensers.

Either way, I thought it was fucking funny. The sticky note says - "Ini barang macam peler" (This thing looks like a dick). And I have to agree.

Seriously, should I really have to pump a rubber dick until it spews pink gunk just to be able to wash my hands at work?

My boss just asked me if I was the one who left the note. Apparently it looks like something I'd do.

What the hell was he thinking???

My Foot

2009-12-14T12:20:00.006+08:00

The Good: I had a fun weekend. Went out of town for a feast of terrapin and frog meat. There were lots of other good stuff mainly because the good host is a firm beliver that all good times should not be without heaps of the good stuff, whatever the good stuff maybe.

Nevermind.

But there were lots of good food and lots of good drink and coupled with good company, what can possibly go wrong? Met a friend of my sister, one who's going through a divorce right now, and man was she cute and so funny and laid back and friendly, it was trippy.

The Bad: Klutz that I am, I totally fell while stepping out of my ride most probably because I was a little tipsy. Okay, maybe I was drunk. Landed on the wrong side of my right foot, which is either sprained or perhaps even broken. Either way it hurts like hell to walk. I'm an idiot and in pain.

The Ugly: That would be my foot, which is swollen and sort of purplish in the spot that hurts the most. Fucking great.

Did I mention I can't wait for Yesua's womb evacuation day celebration? That's about the only thing to look forward to this month. And that other day commemorating Prophet Muhammad's, peace be unto Him, journey from Meidna to Mecca. Both days falls on a working day and that means I dont have to be at the sweatshop. Which is good. Otherwise, December is a very depressing month.

And my foot fucking hurts.

Imma Git The Freak On

2009-12-11T13:10:00.005+08:00

Time : 1:48am

I used to think I might be just a slight bit off the normal scale from the rest of the world, a bit crazy, just a hair or two away from being what you could call truly sane.

But fuck man! I didn't have a clue...

Because right now I am truly wrapped up in insanity. Its crazy. Wonderful insanity. Ecstatic, vibrant, psychedelic insanity. My world full of bright colors, greens and hot pinks and oranges and velvety reds and turquoises and canary yellows and fuchsias. I hear music. I fucking hear music. Wonderful rocking grooving makes-you-wanna-git-yo-freak-on music, every fucking minute.

I.Am.Fucking.Alive!

I am hyper-sensitive, in the most exquisite way. I am orgasmic.

I have somehow, unwittingly stumbled upon the world's biggest crazy happy pill. Errr...but I don't do chemicals.

A fucking huge heap of herbs it is then!!!

I am drunk. Intoxicated. High. And out of my mind with madness.

And this madness is finger lickin delicious-nous. It is exotic and erotic and powerful. It has consumed my mind and my fucking soul. And especially my sexual organs, like my brain, yo!

I am the monster that Dr. Frankenstein created. He has awakened me and put me on a fucking crazy-ass spell.

Imma his freak!

And the biatch is mine!

Please let this madness never end.

Gramps

2009-12-09T12:10:00.007+08:00

I just got back from visiting my grand dad at the village. It was a year or so ago when I last saw him. He is very sick now and was admitted to the hospital for this thing they tell me as 'severe case of stomach complication'. I don't really know what the problem is and I don't want to know but as far as the doctors prognosis is concern, its not very good. The doctor said 'a few weeks to maybe a few months' and recommended that he went home. There was nothing to be done.

I met him at my dad's family home. He was happy to see me, he says. I was too, although I couldn't help being overwhelmed by sadness to see him lying on his bed, frail and thin. His legs were so thin I could barely see them under the sheets and his stomach so distended that it looked like a basketball had been put under his shirt to fill out his tiny little frame. He spoke to me in whispers. He was no longer the same grand dad I had always known. Vivacious, adventurous, the grand dad I walked to the padi fields with. No longer the grand dad that I had gone to town for kolo mee or the grand dad who had given my brother and I the advice to “always tell the truth” because “you will get no where in life by lying”.

Occasionally he let out a good laugh at some jokes and repeatedly reassured me he was fine and eating well. I spent a whole day just chilling with him last weekend next to his bed. He asked if I was to stay till Christmas but told him I couldn't and that I'd try to visit in the next coming weeks.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I felt guilty.

He nodded and that is when he started.

"When you were young. About five, I think..."

There I was, sitting next to my 86 year old grand dad recounting stories and listening to tales he used to tell me when I was kid. Mostly stories told by his father. Stories he heard when he was my age. And he still remembers my favourite. The one about the tortoise who carved an instrument, a ruding, from the bones of a forest lizard. There is also a monkey in the story who stole the ruding from the tortoise and ended up having his dick bitten by a crab. It later dies a miserable death. Its funny, really.

We laughed and he told me some more.

My grand dad loved to tell stories, and over the last few years I would encourage him to tell me stories from his life at every opportunity. I must have heard the story of how he met my grandmother a hundred times, each time with the same zeal. He told me stories of his days as the village chief and stories of his days in the field during the war. His stories were always punctuated by some victory or other, small or large and displayed his stubborn fighting spirit and his will to prove naysayers wrong.

I used to be at my grand dad's house quite a lot when I was young. I remember that quite clearly. He and my late grand mother dotted on me. My own dad wasn't around most of the time as he was working in another town and grand dad took over the role. He provided me with the kind of wisdom, guidance and fun a young kid would need. I know grand parents raise their grandchildren for a lot of reasons such as death, divorce, child abuse, neglect or abandonment. For me, I was just happy that my grand dad took the time to help raise me. Grandparents raising grandchildren offer them a special bond that will impact their lives forever.

I don't recall most of the things he told me. Mostly about my exploits and the shit I got myself into but knew somehow those things happened. Some were unpleasant and mostly to do with chickens that strangely went missing from the coop and then there are the few I can now vaguely remember. But it was just amazing to sit there to listen and notice how every details are still fresh on his mind. He still remembers them as if it happened only yesterday. At times he paused in between whispers and I could see how he was probing his mind for the exact details just to make sure he got it right.

And that was when I realised how little time he has. And that he also realises it.

But there was not a sign of resignation in his voice. He was calm and at peace and I could sense his will to carry on was strong although in essence he was all ready for the next journey. He tells me that he was in a lot a pain sometimes. The pills helps, he says.

I think I may have been sitting there and talking to him for four or five hours and I knew he was just making sure I remember the good times with him. I saw him just before my flight back yesterday. I went to his room, told him I had to go and promised to see him again soon. He was in good spirits and said he has one or two other stories to tell.

As I think about life and especially after my visit, I feel hopeful. Hopeful now that I believe that life is grand and there is fucking hope.

And that life is lived in cycles.

A beginning, a middle, an end.

But the end isn't necessarily final.

Worried

2009-11-04T17:08:00.004+08:00

What if I didn't have enough to worry about?

And how the fuck will I know if I'm worrying enough about my worries.

What if I wake up tomorrow and the government bans Tiger beer?

What if the worst thing that can happen isn't the fucking worst thing that can happen.

And like, what if Britney Spears fucking shaves her head again?

Damn!

Pening

2009-10-28T17:05:00.000+08:00

I have only this to say - What a day!

I was blindsided by a fucking headache this morning. I don't know but it could be the 7 big cats and 3 Trios I had last night. Could be. And I pretty much hid in the dark until this afternoon while I tried to convince the bastard with the icepick behind my eye to give me a fucking break.

Everything had an aura around it and light was the enemy. I know how vampires feel when I get like this.

And as I am reminded of every time I have a throbbing headache, I have to say that there is nothing like fucking agony to make you appreciate the wonderfulness in feeling normal.

Like right now. Normal is fantastic. Fucking wonderful in fact.

I am nearly delirious to be sitting here downing my second big cats and feeling ever so everyday and completely and totally ho fucking hum average.

Peace!

The Candle

2009-10-14T20:59:00.003+08:00

Were there times when you just didn't want to be seen or to be followed? And all you wanted to do was to fucking disappear quickly and quietly without any drama and all that shit?

And you wanted as much time in the darkness as you possibly could because you know the dark provided cover...

a place to hide...

and most of all, that it provided comfort.

I do sometimes and then I listen to this shit and I feel complete.

Yes and No

2009-09-26T11:02:00.003+08:00

This passion curls and rests on her lips.

Just a few words, she says.

He twinkles back,

Damn this!!

Its probably yes...probably no.

Certainty is never written in water.

Your tongue and lips always moist

can never hold me.

Few words, maybe yes...

maybe no.

Berries, Phones And Pods

2009-09-23T10:34:00.005+08:00

You know, it just blows me away that some folks put so much of dependency on this thing they call a blackberry or whatever equivalent. These ones I find completely mystifying. Their pride in being “connected” to everything and I mean everything, is somewhat bizarre to me. Take this friend of mine. He not only has a blackberry but also an i telephone that has not 1 or 2 but 3 g's in it although I don't really know whats the deal with the g's. And these he carries with him everyday and everywhere. And just in case, his top of the line i pod too.

Now, I’ve no idea of the things that a blackberry or an i telephone that has not 2 but 3 g's can do. But I see some friends checking their e mails with their berries and then answer calls with another phone. Mostly of the i telephone variety while another flicks out his i pod thing, after checking his mail with his berry and making a call with his HTC, and proudly shows the latest porn he downloaded. I find all this annoying on many levels. Especially when drinking at the pub. And there's another who claims that he actually blogs with that berry thing. This dude also tells me he reads on his i pod and that he has the whole books of the bible on his pod thingy.

Seriously, what makes it so indispensable that some people own and use more than one of these things at the same time is just beyond me.

So, say that you can call people, listen to music, watch porn, read a book, do mails, make appointments, book tickets, take photographs or videos, watch live TV programmes and everything else on your berry or your pod - that makes it a multifunctional item.

Well, thats all good and nice.

Very cool. Very clever.

But does it mean that you simplify your life by getting rid of the TV, DVD player, music system, phone, camera, videocam, computer, books and possibly your secretary? I don't think so. So if you’re still going to have all those things anyway, what’s the point of that berry or that i telephone or that pod thing?

Phones that play music and that pod thing that function as a phone – what da fuck is up with that? I don't have the luxury of a pod that plays music or one that function as a phone and play music but I would be very happy if, and only if I had one, it would just play music and do nothing else. I don’t think I need my pod to be a phone, a diary, an alarm clock, a radio, a DVD player, a TV, computer or a portable vagina. I fucking swear I saw a portable vagina at this sex shop the other day and that was hillarious. Can you believe this shit? A fucking portable vagina you can put in your pocket and bring to work, yo! Pocket pussy, y'all! How about that?

But I digress.

And how, in the name of sweet mother of Thor, can anyone enjoy porn on a 2 by 3 inch screen? Me, I'm into details. I like to see that little mole Ms Hikaru Koto has on the left cheek of her soft butt. You wouldn't get that kind of detail on a berry or a stupid pod. And that is why I've a nice 29 inch screen TV. I have all these things they put on a berry or a pod separately and they all work just fine. And for the life of me, I've never been overcome by an irresistible urge to watch skin action on a 2 by 3 inch screen anywhere, no matter how little else I have to do. Even on those bigg ass planes, when I could conceivably be expected to be bored and require entertainment, I don’t bother with the stupid screens on the back of the seat in front of me.

I don’t think I’m technologically challenged. Maybe fiscally. But I just don’t feel the necessity to be connected all the time to an electronic leash, everywhere I go. And I certainly don't need to watch tv on a 2 by 3. Technology is a utilitarian thing, as far as I'm concerned. If it does what I need, that will do. When an item that's meant to make your life simpler turns out to need training to operate, because it's complicated by the sheer number of things it does, those technological advances defeat the original purpose. Fucking simplicity.

I sometimes wonder what these folks would do, those very important, very tech-savvy people who are addicted to their berrys and pods, if they were disconnected from the electronic world. How would they survive the lack of entertainment at the touch of a teeny weeny little button on those thing with fucking tiny screen?

I’d read a book. Just your normal, printed book - the ones with words, which wouldn’t tell you the time, remind you of an appointment, play music, make a phone call, receive an email, take a photograph or do anything other than be something to read. The kind of book that would have pages made from paper that you could touch, smell and feel, the kind of book that wouldn’t need batteries, power or recharging.

That kind of...retro book, if you like.

And oh, my Nokia 1110 rawks!

Chill

2009-09-17T17:01:00.001+08:00

The sun rises bright and fresh,
penetrates the windows and wraps its warmth
around my shoulders,
light-shards smile across the floor.

But it's a tease. I know it is...

But these are strange days,
sudden change of weather comes in the night,
windstorms in the afternoon,
morning mists on cold floors that yields to dark clouds and then the drizzle,
While the wind drives chill against my skin.

I want to believe the warm hug is especially for me,
that she's going to stay,
but warm is a fickle lover...
and I know...
...she'll be gone and I'll be cold.

Black Cat

2009-09-14T23:45:00.007+08:00

I know you know this one.

They say if a black cat walks under the ladder you're climbing, you're fucked and if a black cat crosses your path, you're sure going to be doubly fucked.

Thats what happened after dinner just now as me and my dinner partner walked towards my ride. The feline of bad omen crossed our path which stopped my dinner partner dead in his track and prompted him to chant some unintelligible mantra, waving his hands around frantically in between. Totally blown away, I stood there staring at him.

"You can't be too careful. Bad luck, you know", he said.

So at the pub, and still curious, I asked him at what distance does the bad luck begins to affect me. That is, how far away does a black cat have to be? 2 feet? 12 1/2 maybe? A few hundred feet? Do I even have to fucking see the cat crossing my path for the bad luck to start or is it enough that a black cat cross my path at all, whether I see it or not? And does the cat have to be a specific breed? Like if it was a cross breed of a Siamese and a stray, would my bad luck be quadrupled in its affect or something?

He wasn't amused and said we shouldn't be questioning the spirit world, the fairy's and those small little beings that sometime appears to his grandfather.

But never mind that. Back to the black cat - does the same bad luck thing applies when you're driving? Say, when one runs across the road in front of you?

I mean, why can't these things be more precise?

Hey, you!

Yeah. You.

Happy birthday!

Convert

2009-09-11T23:00:00.003+08:00

I left the saltmine at 6:30 in the PM and as I drove towards the general direction of Ruai, a good friend called and asked if I wanted to join him at a coffee shop for a few rounds of them amber coloured juice. I told him I was already proceeding towards Ruai, a venture he was very much against on the account that he was broke and so was I. And to rub it in, he reminded me of the critical condition of my tab over at the pub.

So I arrived at the coffee shop and took a seat at one of the empty tables and ordered a bucket of Stella. I was early and already at my second can when this smartly dressed person walked to my table and asked if he could join me.

There are a few banks in the vicinity and by the crumpled, rolled up sleeves of his cotton shirt, double pleated pants and his leather bag, he'd pass for a banker. I don't normally feel comfortable sharing tables with strangers but the dude looked legit and I nodded.

He held out his hands, confidently shook my hand and introduced himself.

"Jonathan Leong", he said.

I offered him a beer but he declined and ordered ice tea instead. And then we talked. He said he was from Malaya and in my backyard for a visit. We spoke of the weather, the flu thing and got into some political discussion because you can never go wrong with politics. Especially local politics.

I was enjoying his company until he asked, and casually too, if I was a religious person. Immediately then I knew where the question was leading.

"Not very. But I do go to church on Sunday's".

It had happened to me countless of times during my college days. And the modus operandi was always the same. Someone would befriend you and then try to make you embrace whatever religion they were selling while you were at your most vulnerable.

"Friend, have you had many dark moments?", he asked next.

I had already ravished four Stella by then and didn't really want to get into any heavy discussion on religion. But because I didn't want to be rude, I decided to make light of the situation before he could get started properly.

"Yeah, of course. Like right now. Being broke, you know. Thats dark to me", I bowed my head sadly.

But the look he gave me made me feel guilty.

"In all seriousness, friend, do you ever pray?"

"Sometimes. When I'm down and I need hope. But right now, I'm all good, really". I tried to slide out of it again but he kept calling me 'friend' and asking me questions that I had to answer 'yes' to.

"Do you believe in God, friend?"

"Sort of. But it's more my own version of God"

And then he exhaled loudly and placed his hands on the table, palms facing upwards. I knew then something big was coming.

"Friend, I am a Mormon", he finally declared.

And the way he said it was like a confession and the words were just left there, dangling in the air like he just told me he was gay or had fucking cancer or something. He looked at me earnestly but I just didn't know how to react.

"Really?", I nodded. "Thats nice".

It was a stupid thing to say but in all honesty, I just couldn't think of anything to say. And frankly, I had a bad impression about these bunch. I've gone through the same thing with the group-that-do-not-believe-in-blood-transfusion years ago and they are alright but a bit persistent. Thing is even though I don't really know much about these Moromon's, folks I know always talked about them in a negative way. But Jonathan was all good. He was cool.

"Friend, if I gave you some of our literature would you be prepared to read it? Don't worry. I'm not going to push anything on you. It's up to you".

"Sure. Why not?"

He then opened his leather briefcase and took out what looked like a thick, hard cover book and a few other materials and placed them on the table. I took one, flipped through and said my thanks.

He smiled and just like that he wished me well and walked away

------------------------------------------------

I read the thick book and found it interesting. Really. I'm not kidding.

Very science fiction-nish. Lots of strange beings with cool names. Like Nephi and Moron.

Unbearable Lightness of Being Me

2009-09-09T17:00:00.005+08:00

The time tells me its 5:53pm and this is what I did at the office today :

- sorted out the various letters / memos / papers according to size and arranged them in neat piles.

- tapped two pens on the edge of my table to imitate a horse trotting along, then finally going at full gallop. For 20 minutes or thereabout.

- tried to compose a new song mainly about horses at trotting tempo with imaginary horses falling off the table to a sad death hundreds of millimetres below on the floor and with an imaginary funeral at the end for dramatic effect.

The song starts with a long and enchanting "Oooooooowwhhhhhhoooowww..."

- attempted not to move my head while looking out of the window to my right straining my eyeballs in the process. I tried so hard, I had dizzy spells for a few minutes.

- drew dust Jolly Roger on my monitor screen.

- made a call to Kobelco and asked if they sold Caterpillar. I was lucky. The receptionist on the other end was either too stupid to cut me off but I spent a good 15 minutes explaining that I was in dire need of a bulldozer type 150 DMTx-U876, 13 HpT with a swing load of 76.8 degrees to 10 tonnes. I left her my number and she hasn't called back.

- tried to fit a whole box of paper clips into a cigarette box holder and spent ten minutes disentangling the fucking load.

- summoned the power of my boredom to fast-forward into time, but apparently only succeeded in stopping it.

- and yawned 574,689 and a half times

Lift Me

2009-09-06T16:54:00.001+08:00

I did not...

It was not like that.

It's this world,

Stained and now swiftly fading with time.

So...

Won't you please hold on to these cold cold hands...

And take these old cold feet,

Lift me up...

And lay me down...

Blood Sucking

2009-09-04T09:54:00.015+08:00

I received a call from a relative yesterday evening informing me that one of his brother was sick and is now admitted at the hospital. They're from my village and from where I come, to qualify for a stint at our overcrowded state side hospital one has to have either cancer or something life threatening. So I knew it was something bad.

My first reaction was - do i need to know this shit right now?. There was already too much shit over at the saltmine to deal with and now this. But because these people are relations so I asked how he was doing. It was late evening and I had just left the saltmine and was about to reach the pub when she continued, "He was put under the knife since 6:00am and they aren't finished with him yet".

"How serious?", I asked.

"Very", she said.

So I detoured from the pub to the hospital and found a crowd at the ICU area. Mostly relations and looking very sombre. All was not well.

I didn't ask but someone said something about a ruptured vein, bad heart and busted kidney. The whole nine yards. One of the brothers later pulled me aside and asked what blood type I was because the brother needed 'A'.

I don't remember having any alcohol in the past 24 hours so I was good to give. And so early this morning I drove by at the blood bank and went through the works. Apart from the four or five blood sucking technicians who looked pretty busy, I found two other persons waiting in line to spill blood.

After filling up the necessary forms and going through the standard interview of which one of the question asked was if I had multiple sex partners in India in the past two months. Not a bad idea actually, but I had to disappoint him and declared that I haven't fucked an Indian national or for that matter, fucked in India in the last two months. I've been through this many times before and its always the last few questions that cracks me up.

Like - have you been tested positive for HIV? And I'm like what the fuck am I doing here spilling blood if I was positive.

I was later ushered to a bed next to a dude who smiled and said, "Isn't it great to know that we're actually saving lives?". I nodded and smiled back at him. I really wanted to tell him that my relation who was going to receive my pint of blood might not even make it. But I didn't want to spoil his day. I could tell he was excited and a little nervous. Could be a first timer.

It was all over in 30 minutes.

"You want this for a particular person?", one of the blood sucking technician asked.

"Yes. The name's on top of the page".

And then I left but with this thought though - why and how is it that I should feel great just because I spilled some blood and that I may possibly save a life? When I first drew blood many years ago, I never bothered that pint of blood was going to save a life. I didn't even care. I did it then because it was cool and besides them doctors will tell you its good for your health. They'll say excessive iron isn't good for the heart and shit. So its pretty much like what them ladies get every other month and that is why them ladies live longer, yo.

So even if my pint do save a life, I was already detached from it from when I left it at the blood bank and do I give a fuck? Hell, fucking No! Its very much like going to the sperm bank, you see. You take your pants down, jerk off to some bad porn and leave your shit there and then fucking leave. Yes, you may 'father' a son or a daughter but you'll never get to know your seed.

Does it matter? Fuck, no!

And it is not like my bag of blood has my name on it. Somebody needs it and if he lives because he/she had mine, so be it.

Maybe I just don't like this idea of 'saving lives'.

Ogostus

2009-08-31T13:03:00.007+08:00

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

2009-08-26T10:51:00.006+08:00

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

2009-08-25T18:49:00.000+08:00

Old No. 7

Balcony

Spinning

Brothers

Glasses

Colours

Up down

Shrooms

Spirits

Beggar

You

2009-08-24T09:00:00.001+08:00

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

2009-08-20T09:00:00.000+08:00

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

2009-08-17T12:04:00.003+08:00

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

2009-08-15T16:23:00.000+08:00

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

2009-08-13T10:57:00.003+08:00

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

2009-08-06T14:00:00.001+08:00

Decide

2009-08-05T11:00:00.001+08:00

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.

Death

2009-07-28T15:45:00.003+08:00

A cousin died on Monday.

Cancer.

And she was only 27 and engaged to be married to a nice boy exactly a week before.

In February, my favourite aunt who was also momma's youngest sister died. She struggled with melanoma and fought it good till the day she passed on. The initial news from the doctor months before that was obviously difficult to take even for me but instead of reigning to the fact that all was lost, she swore to fight back.

She lives near my house and trying to be present for her through that few months, and feeling close to helpless in the face of death and emotional pain, has forever changed the way I think about death, about hope, about healing, about mental health, about compassion.

I saw another human being at her deepest and darkest, and then I was blessed to witness the miracle of her re-emergence from that place. She fought hard and she did good and passed on peacefully. She leaves a wonderful husband and 4 young children, the youngest being 7 this year. She had already lost one child to cancer and that was still painful for her even then. And although I would never wish either side of that journey on anyone, I am grateful to have lived through that experience.

Why am I talking of death now you might wonder. There are nights when I lay on my bed with no sleep and this question lingers - whose death would affect me more, whose death would I fear more. My own? Or those close to me?

I really can’t imagine when people have to deal with their parents death when they are young, after a long time I felt really fortunate to have had my parents all along. they're like my safety net, like a fucking ATM for anything and everything.

And what about my cousin's death? She didn't even know she had the disease. At least that's what her mom and sis tells us. She was beautiful, athletic, outgoing and a God fearing young girl who never missed church on Sundays.

How do you deal with death like this? And then the folks say - God loves her more. Its God's will and other fucked up statement like that. And I'm like whatdafuck, if God loved her more, then I sure as hell think God has a nasty sense of humour by inflicting a burst cyst in her baby pouch before taking the dear life away from her. She didn't even get to say goodbye.

And where the fuck will that leave the now grieving fiance?!!

Secrets

2009-07-26T11:51:00.002+08:00

Oh, yeah, I have secrets. Yeah, I fucking do.

But I ain't gonna spill. Not today anyway – maybe not even tomorrow or the day after that. So you dont go and be askin', foo!

It’s good to have secrets, the kind that give a little mystery, lend themselves to depth, dropping only hints of what might be hidden.

Of course, if you know me you also know that everything shows on my face and if you ask a question I’ll probably answer it with far more information than you ever needed to know. Heck, I’d be a fucked up spy.

But there are secrets I’ll keep to the grave. Things that have been trusted to me that aren’t mine to tell. Embarrassing moments I’d like to forget and will tuck into the farthest corner of my mind until they shrink to nothing from lack of fucking air. Dreams that should have been let out into the sunlight so they could grow tall and green. Longings I don’t have the nerve to act upon. These shit will stay with me forever.

I’d like to make a few secrets. A house with a secret room or passageway. A panel that opens with a hidden latch, maybe. Read Coraline yet? Yeah, thats right. Coraline. Not Caroline. Neil Gaiman, yo. No? Then you're fucked, man.

The more I think about secrets, the more I’d like to collect a few. You know, just to keep a little adventure.

No Shame

2009-07-24T11:05:00.000+08:00

I'm a free spirit that has been shot down and wronged.
I pleaded for help...a kind gentle mercy...
My heart felt like it rose up to my throat as you choked the life from me.

I cried with pain...can barely speak your name.
Throat swelling,
...burning like a flame,
This fire...this burning,
I'm yearning for help.

This is all I have ever felt...
My life as its slipping.
Veins running cold...
My blood as its churning its last...
My lungs choking for air breathing heavy...

And nobody there to hold me...
Or watch as I fall to my knees,
In a last try to be set free, I'm abandoning all of me.
Because there is nothing left
Why can't I ever just see?

As the rain falls it sucks the life from me...
My one joy to hear and feel the rain and it consumes me.
And this ending pain...
There is no more shame...

Not Enough

2009-07-22T01:00:00.003+08:00

I fight, I lay, I strain and I struggle,
The shit just come and my pain it doubles,
The days, months, seconds, minutes and hours go by,
You mess with my life and you take all my powers.

I feel no pain and I show no emotion,
I absorb it and take it,
until it’s too late.
I can feel it now, it hits so fast and hard.
Can’t think,
Can’t fucking breathe,
I want to, but can’t leave.
Can’t help, can’t love, can’t even rest.

All I’m doing is sinking further and further,
I’m in way too deep...
I’m searching and looking for my break in this world,
This stuff is too heavy, and way more than I can hold.

What? So now it’s my fault?
And I sit in regret,
I gave and I promised.

How could you choose to forget?
I may say that I’m fine and walk away smiling,

But if you’d really look at me you’d see that inside I’m dying.
It’s never enough, anything I do,
Never enough!
At least not for you.

Mumps

2009-07-21T14:44:00.005+08:00

I woke up yesterday morning with this awful pain just below my left jaw. I touched and felt a lump. It was painful to the touch and then I panicked. I didn't feel good, almost feverish and my throat felt dry but the swelling got me worried.

Could it be the mumps?

But I remember my momma telling me that you get the mumps only once in your life and even that, just before one reaches puberty or some shit like that.

And as I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror I was thinking I couldn't be going through puberty again. I don't think so.

I then called the good doctor and explained to him the symptoms - the temp, dry throat, fever, the swelling.

"Errrrm...viral...mumps", he simply said.

And then announced in one breath that I had the mamo-hetereo-pina-colada-mumbo-jambo and that there was a strong possibility I was going through puberty again. I could almost see him laughing on the other end. Told him I found him to be a very funny person in the morning and managed a little laugh despite the pain in my throat and the nagging stiffness in my neck.

He then asked if there were any swelling anywhere else and insisted I checked my crotch region. No swelling there I said. This time he laughed.

"Could be some viral infection. Come on over and let me look at it", he offered.

"You're not serious, right?", I asked.

"Why not?", he said.

"You actually want to check out my fucking dick?", and that's when he went all medical with me and advised lots of liquid of the good kind and rest with strong caution to stay away from the beer for at least three days.

I like Dr. Eric. We went to school together and I like him best for his morbid humour. Takes after his mom he says.

Whatever. But last night I had a few of the big cats. I figured if this is anything viral then alcohol's the answer.

And strangely enough, I felt better when I woke up this morning. The swelling had gone down a little, the fever is almost gone and I feel good.

Now, I ride!!!

To the fortress of servitude!!!

Awaaaaay!!!

That Stupid Thing

2009-07-16T15:10:00.006+08:00

Yes, I'm glad that stupid thing over at Damai is over.

For the past few weeks and especially days leading to the event, I was asked by no less than 63 and a half persons if I was going to attend. Half, because the last person at the bar went - "Dooood, are you going...", when his phone rang. I then quickly walked away.

A couple of nights before the event and over dinner and while I was talking about the event to the young curious cousins, mom suddenly asked if she could go. That's when I almost choked on that stupid fish bone. I asked why she would want to attend something like that and she said, "Well, the last time I went it was nice". Bewildered now and still trying to register how my conservative, god fearing Protestant mother mother would even use the word nice to describe the same, I asked her when exactly did she attend the thing.

"Twice, I think", she said. "It was nice. Orderly. Not many people. Many years ago.", she continued.

And then it hit me. My mom went to the very first one and then attended the second time it was held. I now know I have a cool mom. I heard it was good then. Cheap and yes, very orderly. I wasn't in town and she never told me.

And so, being the nice son that I am, I quickly briefed her on how the event had morphed into something Satanic and evil. So evil that it would make whatever Sodom and Gomorrah offered in the days of antiquity, pale in comparison. I even showed her pictures from the last few events that I attended. Of course being very careful not to show her any pictures that might compromise my good person. And as she was watching the slides of men and women with the little they had on their backs and some none at all and the obvious drunken state they were all in, she cringed and asked why, if I was sane, would I attend such evil-ness.

I reassured her that I was not and that I was planning to chill at the beach instead.

And that's what I did. Our guests from Malaya were faboulous and I must admit I miss some of them now. Someone brought a guitar and we took our Becks and toasted to absent friends, old gods and to the seasons of mist. And we sang songs of praise to the seas, the sun, the moon and about the women and men we love and loved.

It was nice like that.

In The England

2009-07-07T15:11:00.002+08:00

There was nothing interesting on the other channels last night so I watched the local eight o'clock news. The TV news crew was interviewing a Kelantanese man on the current debate and issues surrounding the teaching of maths and science in English in schools. The poor dude was caught off guard and simply said that it was important and even used the word 'global' or something like that. He was obviously confused as I was confused. Because I thought these two subjects were already taught in English. Didn't the government implement this like years ago and now there's a debate over it? I thought this shit was already cast in stone and shit!

And then I remembered a couple of mornings ago, down at the coffeeshop, over hearing that this issue is far from settled. It seems the powers that be also now wants English to be a compulsory subject to pass as a prerequisite to qualify to sit for the SPM. This of course did not go down well with certain quarters.

In the mind boggling of the workings of the country's politics, it also seems that the politicians and the the Education Minister himself remains unsure of how to go about this issue. Most importantly, it appears that they do not want to make rash decisions for fear of backlashes if the decision is unsavoury politically.

While still on the same news channel someone whose name escapes me now but all nicely dressed, suit and all and with the obvious politician pomp was interviewed next.

And he went like this - " soooooo...I know lah English subject tu very important. I dulu pun study in English jugak. Our children must be taught this subject. So, kite kat ministry faham sentiment orang kite. But we must understand the bigger picture. This is a very pressing issue. Ini isu penting. So, kita tak boleh politicise isu macam ni. We will discuss this with the minister and I will raise this matter up in the next sitting...".

I pressed the next button and a local soap production was on.

"... so, you know kan, yang dier tu tak nak consider kite punye suggestion. So, I discuss la dengan dier punye mother-in-law. So, you know, yang Managing Director tu...so dier agree lah dengan proposal kite tapi...tu lah...thats why..."

Sounds familiar?

I mean, is this because of habit or because these ones wants to impress people that they could speak in the england?

Aiyah, lets not kid ourselves, lah.

The King Is No More

2009-06-26T10:50:00.001+08:00

So the king of pop is dead. And it should be a big deal. That's right. It should. Cos' he was the king of what is pop and all that.

I was a big fan back in the days. Even wore them white socks, yo. Did all that moon walk thing and even had the red jacket the king wore in that 'Beat It' vid. Not exactly it but definitely something close. Made in China or some shit like that.

He was a good person and for his sake, I hope he's in a better place. With lots of errr...nice young people.

But enough of the king.

Yesternight, I was at Alex's house for the ritual of burning of the pig face. It was also Alex's girl friend and soon to be fiance's birthday do. I arrived an hour late but in style as usual, preferring to miss all the compulsory prayers and Christian rituals of which Alex's parents are notoriously known for. On my appearance at the door, I was literally dragged to the table of purveyors of cheap malt and beer.

The pig face was nice, still piping hot and washed down with Label 5, some Tigers and Judy's - Alex girl friend for now and soon to be fiance - red and white offerings. She is a cultured woman, I observed. She only drink wine in the correct wine glasses, she says. She and her sister played the role of the good host-es, making sure our glasses were not empty.

The conversation at our table ranged from comely bastards to ugly bitches, strategies to tragedies and the possibility of Norman standing for the state election. Norman who is now in his late 30's sat three times for his SRP and had never passed.

And then the gods seemed to make a point and the storm was torrential. It was around this time that I forgot to engage brain before opening my mouth. I said, and very loudlytoo that back in the days, Alex and I could hold our beer to at least 27 cans before passing out. I may have also injected this story about a few of our young friends of the female persuasion to whom we became freindly. This was when Judy turned to me and gave me the glare.

The rest is now blurry.

But serves me right. And when this fine beauty of an Iban fix her glare at you, you may need the UTK boys for assistance. Her attention was now on me and I remember vaguely being served by the hospitable and very beautiful Judy and her sister malicious amount of malt and wine so when the first sign of everything about me began to spin, I drifted into slumber.

And obviously stopped talking. I think Judy was happy last night.

That FB Thing

2009-05-26T10:40:00.002+08:00

This Facebook thing is really something, ain't it? It's something you either love or hate.

I hate it with the intensity of the sun. Sometimes.

Okay, maybe hate is a really strong word. I'd use another word, like fucking loathe but hate sums up my feelings rather accurately. And yet, somehow, Facebook has become a necessary evil of sorts. In fact, the only reason I signed up was to check on my old girl friends that I've lost contact with. Which was stupid because for a start, I dont remember most of their names now. I remember Angela Jane but thats it. I don't remember her last name and you know typing Angela Jane in the search engine would result in a few hundred Angela Janes. And since then, I have been inundated with superfluous information about people who I may or may not even remember and may or may not have even ever met.

Like recently, when I received a friend request from a friend but I'm just not sure that I need to know about how she did on her math quiz or what kind of a lover she is. I also received a request from another girl who insists we went to law school together and I don't even remember her. If I don't remember her (at all!) do I really need to know that she ate char kueh tiaw for breakfast this morning?

And how the hell did this thing evolved to the point where it's essentially taking over the world? This thing just about knows everything. And what it doesn't know, it surmises. Seriously, this thing is like a gossipy biatch (I use the term biatch loosely) who just can't keep anything to herfuckingself. And the inuendo that is attributed to anything you do is just fucking outrageous.

And not so long ago it announced to me (and the rest of the world) that Amy and Edward are now in a relationship. And I'm like what da fuck? Which is interesting since I know they've been married for years and have at least one kid.

And it further announced to the world that I had become friends with Firdaus. I guess the fact that we knew each other for like 4 years now doesn't account for anything.

So, here's the deal. I check this thing because I feel it has become a certain obligation. Because I have friends who comes and tells me that they've sent me messages on FB. I do this thing as I feel is necessary. But don't ask me to join your mafia group thing. Don't send me potted plants. I resent your cigarettes gift and shit. I don't want to hang your ornament on my tree because I don't have a fucking tree and I dont know how to have a tree. I have no fucking desire to be kidnapped and I don't even want to know which 80's movie defines me.

Does this make me odd, unique, weird, unacceptable? Maybe. But I'm really OK with that. If you want to say hello, drop me an email. Hell, pick up the fucking phone or something. Text me.

Send smoke signals, for fucking sakes.

Blankness

2009-05-16T16:14:00.004+08:00

This 'clutter' in my head would be an understatement in describing the state of my mind right now. I feel like a zombie. Walking dead or some shit like that. This feeling is engulfing and nothing seems to go right anymore. Too many things, too many thoughts with none really concrete.

And the CD player thingy keeps playing the same song in a loop. And my mind keeps yearning for more of it. No, not once, twice but twenty three times. The same song, the same tune.

I woke up this morning with absolute blankness. Which was good.

But no sooner did I get up from bed, so many unwanted things rushed in, tiring my mind.

And I've forgotten to say my morning prayers. I do like to begin my day at peace with the Big G.

And too much shit rushing in too early in the day almost always ruins what could be a fairly good day for me. It makes me cranky. But its okay. Even if these stuff crashes my mind, it is still my shit. I entertained these thoughts. Thoughts which were better left...errrr...un-thought.

I would like to wake up with nothing in my head every morning.

And right now I need to get rid of this clutter. There is a need to sweep the floor up there...

Sweeeeeeeep...

Sharing

2009-04-26T10:40:00.015+08:00

It's Sunday and I feel good, spiritually. How to describe being in such state eludes me and I really don't know. It is a spiritual thing. But since I was in church today and did the Christian thing, plus the fact that that I behaved for the whole week, I should be entitled to this feeling of being spiritually good inside. I think.

But I just feel good. Good, because that's how one should feel on a hot, lazy Sunday such as today. Also, because Sunday is designated by Allah or Yahweh or Jah or Elohai to be a day of rest. And you must agree that taking time to rest is always good.

And because it is Sunday today, it is also good to share things with other people and I would like to share a little something with you. Sharing, as you know, is also always a good thing.

This is something I got in my email box a couple of weeks back. And this one reads...

"...In the beginning, which occurred near the start, there was nothing but God, darkness, and some gas.

The Bible says - 'The Lord thy God is one'...but I think He must be a lot older than that. Anyway, God said, 'Give me a light!' And someone did.

Then God made the world. He split Adam and made Eve. Adam and Eve were naked, but they weren't embarrassed because mirrors hadn't been invented yet. And then Adam and Eve disobeyed God by eating one bad apple, so they were driven from the Garden of Eden...not sure what they were driven in though, because they didn't have cars.

Adam and Eve had a son, Cain, who hated his brother as long as he was Abel. Pretty soon all of the early people died off, except for Methuselah, who lived to be like a million or something. One of the next important people was Noah, who was a good guy, but one of his kids was kind of a Ham.

Noah built a large boat and put his family and some animals on it. He asked some other people to join him, but they said they would have to take a rain check. After Noah came Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jacob was more famous than his brother, Esau, because Esau sold Jacob his birthmark in exchange for some stupid pot roast.

Jacob had a son named Joseph who wore a really loud sports coat. He tried to start a fashion statement but that didn't work.

Another important Bible guy is Moses, whose real name was Charlton Heston. Moses led the Israel Lights out of Egypt and away from the evil Pharaoh after God sent ten plagues on Pharaoh's people. These plagues included frogs, mice, lice, bowels, and no cable.

God fed the Israel Lights every day with some kind of pasta. Then he gave them His Top Ten Commandments. These include - don't lie, cheat, smoke, dance, or covet your neighbor's stuff. And oh, yeah, I just thought of one more - Humor thy father and thy mother.

One of Moses' best helpers was Joshua who was the first Bible guy to use spies. How cool is that? And Joshua fought the battle of Geritol and the fence fell over on the town.

After Joshua came David. He got to be king by killing a giant with a slingshot. He had a son named Solomon who had about 300 wives and 500 porcupines. My teacher says he was wise, but that doesn't sound very wise to me.

After Solomon, there were a bunch of big time prophets. One of these was this dude called Jonah, who was swallowed by a big whale and then barfed up on the shore. There were also some small time prophets, but I guess we don't have to worry about them.

After the Old Testament came the New Testament. Jesus is the star of The New. He was born in Bethlehem in a barn. And I wish I had been born in a barn too, because my mom is always saying to me, 'Close the door! Were you born in a barn?'

It would be nice to say, 'As a matter of fact, I was.'

During His life, Jesus had many arguments with sinners like the Pharisees and the guys from the opposition party. Jesus also had twelve opossums. The worst one was Judas Asparagus. Judas was so evil that they named a terrible vegetable after him.

Jesus was a great man. He healed many leopards and even preached to some Germans on the Mount. But the Pharisees and guys from the opposition parties put Jesus on trial before Pontius the Pilot. Pilot didn't stick up for Jesus. He just washed his hands instead.

Anyways, Jesus died for our sins, then came back to life again. He went up to heaven but will be back at the end of the aluminum and His return is foretold in the book of Revolution..."

End

This story, I think is a good story.

Time Out

2009-04-18T21:03:00.004+08:00

Time now is 9:37 in the PM.

I feel the urge and I ask myself if I should. But I did what I had to do today and I'm happy. Nothing much. The usual shit.

And now, I need to reward myself.

The plus side about living this life the way I do is how I always remember to take time out and stop whatever shit I'm doing and devote my attention to something more important.

Like sitting at the bar drinking a few cold beers.

And so, I will go.

In Cervesio Felisitas.

Good night.

Pening

2009-04-15T19:00:00.002+08:00

The time tells me it's 3:17 in the PM and that evil pounding on the lining of my cerebral cortex is still there. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I saw a vein pulsing in my forehead.

A good buddy from up north was in town last night and he professes to be a fine purveyor of single malt. And so, over dinner of three kinds of different exotic fish whose names I fail to register we had a bottle of Brooch-lagh-dickeh. Or something like that. And a few big cats on the side.

I'm much better from just now but not out of it yet. I really must remind myself not to mix good malt with equally good hop.

I've been sitting here, behind my desk since this am and its quiet in the office. And just for the record, I have not done anything worth calling work since I walked in. The pounding in my head...its critical. And I've been thinking.

Remember when you were in uni and you just knew where you'd be by the time you hit 30? I knew I would have slept with at least 20 women. Virgins and the rest of them. I knew I'd be working in some big ass corporation or something. Donning a suit and all that shit. I also knew I'd be making loads of money and driving a sports car. I knew I'd be traveling the world. I knew I'd have accomplished enough to be interesting.

But here I am and thinking, what the flying fuck happened? I mean, like what da farrrrkkkkk!!!

Here I am, finding myself closer to 40 than 30, and I'm feeling just a teeny weeny bit disconcerted. I'm not some big time corporate figure or some shit like that, don't earn millions, don't think I slept with that many women and the rides I've purchased over the years are all pre loved stuff.

What do people do when they need to shake things up a bit?

Just Crazy

2009-04-04T21:35:00.001+08:00

I've just gone through a few months of craziness and no matter how you define it, it is still crazy. What with the passing of two love ones last February and that was one crazy episode.

Times like these, I would typically long for the return of normalcy. Tonight, however, I sit here exhausted. Both physically and mentally, but I'm cool. Despite this sense of being completely spent, I know I have no desire to have things fully return to their previous state. I've already encountered many moments of truth in the past few months and especially the past few weeks.

Sometimes life gets crazy. Other times, its gets really fucking crazy. I've experienced crazy in many forms and the annoying part is, I feel so sure I'm going to continue down this winding path of weird and wild events.

I think I might be one of those people for whom life is destined to be a super crazy ride. I guess I'll just have to learn to enjoy the scenery.

Good night.

Fools

2009-04-01T21:09:00.006+08:00

I didn't know until just now that in some part of the world this day is made a holiday. April Fools holiday, man. Can you believe this shit? A fucking holiday. I think this day is possibly the most irritating day of the entire year because I hate practical jokes and having a day designated just for this day is fucking cruel. Getting high duping someone and making that someone feel foolish is not just stupid, it's also not funny. Okay, so I hate this day and I am a gullible person. Don't like? Go fuck something then.

This day is just so pointless I feel there is no point to even talk about this day. I mean, why? and why must some people be stupid on just this day? And some even pretend so fucking hard while at it.

Valentines day, I really try to understand and I do have a raging hatred for it but April fool's day? What the fuck is the deal on this one? Whats the concept?

And what kind of demon thought of this dumb day anyway?

My Day

2009-03-30T10:15:00.005+08:00

I don't like birthdays. Like I don't like what is Valentine day and sometimes Easter.

Everyone around me expects me to enjoy birthdays and relish getting older, but I don't see it that way. I mean it's not like you just wake up one morning and is magically older and wiser. Life is a fucking process and most times you can't help it but fuck things up. Thats what life's about. Its about fucking things up.

And so, today on mine, I'll try to reflect on what I've fucked up, which is a plenty and try not to put so much stock into what the day means to everyone else.

I just don't get some birthday people. They have this idea/concept that the day should be treated as the biggest fucking deal in the world. I have on a few occasion disappoint many friends and families by not attending birthday parties and shit and have also been accused for not being sensitive to other peoples feelings because I simply forgotten their birthdays.

Take what happened a couple of months ago when I received a message in my Facebook Inbox thing from a dear friend of mine. She thought it was odd that I was not among the many wall-to-wall birthday well wishers. But maybe it’s me, and I’m just a fucking terrible person but when I read that, I was like whadafuck and tried to compose something equally scathing about how fucking low I thought she is for still behaving like a four-year-old about fucking birthdays. But I'm not like that. So I issued an apology and told her I don't really log into my facebook account on a daily basis like most people and hence had missed her birthday prompt and that was that. For her birthday extravaganza this year, I think I shall throw a birthday cake at her on that Superpoke thing and write on her wall just so everyone would know that it is indeed her birthday. Maybe I'll leave her a comment.

Because everyone should know when it’s your birthday.

I just don’t get it.

Me? I'll do the same shit I did last year and the years before that.

Nothing.

God is Good

2009-03-27T12:40:00.012+08:00

I swore off reading the local papers a long time ago. There just too many wasted pages for so many politician spilling out bad bullshit. I don't even read the ones from the west side anymore because if I wanted to read bullshit, and I mean really good bullshit, I'd read blogs and sometimes alternative news portals which often offers lots of really good bullshit. Better bullshit right there, if you ask me.

These days, the only physical contact I have with our local papers is while I'm taking a dump. And only to check on the lottery results. I remember one fine morning tearing a section off when the toilet paper rolls were out and so I used that. It's good for that too.

And just the other day, while taking a dump and checking through the 6/49 results, I was yet again disappointed. The ticket naturally found its way in between my legs and onto my pile of shit. Flipping to the local news section, I read this headline :

"Dam project Gods gift, says assemblymen".

I laughed so hard and I haven't even read the contents. And I laughed harder when the report quoted him saying - "...we must be able to recognise when a good thing comes our way. This is one of the good things. If we turn our back on it, no matter how much we cry for development to come our way, we may have to wait for another 50 years or more for an opportunity like this to come again...".

We cry, did you say? And I'm like whatdafuck.

By the time I read this - "...this billion-ringgit HEP project is the answer to our prayers for development for our people. This is God’s gift to our people. Why must we reject something good? This will change the fate of our community. Of course, the present generation will have to make a few sacrifices to make it a success..." - I was already foaming at my mouth. Epilepsy or some shit like that because I was just laughing my fucking guts out. While taking a dump.

Ah, well, the next time I meet old Simo from Kampung Pain Bojong I'll tell him that a certain politician wants him to be more appreciative of God's gift. I mean, God can't be wrong about gifts and especially the ones which are good.

The Day Of Flowers And Stuffed Things

2009-02-14T10:35:00.007+08:00

I don't like Valentine’s Day. I never did.

Personally, I think it’s beyond conventional wisdom why anyone would want to waste time and money to 'celebrate' this day. What would drive some men to spend money on a bunch of shit that’s just going in the garbage the next day? I mean seriously...overpriced stupid roses and equally stupid stuffed things?

Think about it, does a woman really give a fuck about stuffed things?

And when someone is buying an emo and overpriced Hallmark card or a stuffed thing, they’re not thinking - "Awwww...what a cute card / stuffed thing. I bet Mary / John will love me more because I'm sensitive".

No. They're not.

They're actually thinking “Hey, a card. Mary / John will like this one. I just might be getting some crazy fuck tonight. Yaaaayyy!!!”.

And there are plenty of days such as this one, but none take as much shit as Valentine’s. In some country, this day is made a holiday. Christmas and Easter - I can understand. At least these ones has some clear meanings although obscured and exploited. But fucking Valentine’s Day? Nobody even knows what the hell that’s about. No one is even totally sure who this holiday is supposed to honor. Or honour or whatever.

So whats the deal with this day? Whats up with the flowers and the stuffed things? Why not chocolates in the shape of crazy axes in honor of that Valentine dude who got his head chopped off? Better yet - something radical like chocolates in the shape of his decapitated head, yo!

Yes, Wiki will tell you that it all started with this Christian dude, Valentine.

No. Hold it. There were several of them. Actually, three of them...errr maybe four or seven Valentine's from the days of late antiquity. At least one of them got his head lobbed off because it was cool to get your head on the chopping board. Then there's this legend about one who rode around Europe on a white horse spreading the message of love and shit.

There’s just so many Christian Valentine martyrs and none would qualify to have his own day. And I also read that before the Christians, the good pagans had excessive feasts which included sexual and drinking debauchery around February 14th. This, I think is closer in spirit to what this day is about. Better than celebrating the sorry lives of martyrs with gay names like Valentine , if you ask me. And I'm not implying gay names are bad. But then again, who the fuck knows, right?

This day is about a mix of pagan style party which includes lots of drinking which is good, some crazy fucking on the side and a few dead Christians.

And so, it is with deep conviction that I think the meaning of this awful day was not lost over time but in fact there was never one.

As for me, I'd be at the pub later tonight, getting really crazy drunk. I should be leaving earlier than usual to watch some old Japanese porn.

Waterfall

2009-02-06T11:00:00.011+08:00

The trail

Its February and still it rains. If you live within the same longitude / latitude as I do then you know it's been raining for days on end since last November. Nothing new this side of the equator. 'Tis the season, they say.

I didn't do much. Couldn't do much because of the rain and stayed in mostly. And so I bought a book just before the Chinese New Year holidays - 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards. Sad, gloomy and well, errr...obnoxiously sappy. But I like. I'm almost done and its one of those that will probably make it to Hallmark's channel if it hasn't already. Perfect read on a gloomy, rainy day.

The only highlights since November was this crazy trip to this waterfall deep in Salako land with the good brothers from borneooutdoorsexploorer.com. It was raining heavily when one of the boys picked me up from my house that morning and it was just pouring mad but I went anyway. I thought it would be a good break from doing Kim Edwards.

Doves

The rain did stop to a drizzle when our motley crew of lunatics arrived at Kampung Jantan afterwards. After a quick breakfast at one of the village shop, we moved out.

Two hours, tops, one of the boys said. And I'm like, okay, I'm cool with two.

We walked through rubber, cocoa and pepper farms which predominates the typical village in this area. I managed to take some photos of these turtle doves taking some time out wondering what manner of stupidity would drive some people to be out on a day such as it was.

And then it rained. And we got lost.

Waterfall

And because the trail suddenly became elusive, what was to be a two hour tops journey became three and a half. At the two hour mark, we finally reached a river which was to lead us to the waterfall. It didn't look good as the water swelled due to the heavy rain while the strong current and the slippery rocks did not permit walking.

Not good at all.

We then took to the forest and made our own trail finding our way through the thick vegetation. Thankfully someone, in the person of me, had the sense to bring along a proper 'parang'. There were crazy thorny vines like ropes hanging from tree to tree and creepers everywhere we turned. It was painful. No. It was more than painful. I was soaked to the bones, freezing cold and my fucking legs were killing me. Occasionally, I heard screams and shouts from the rear, a telling sign someone falling on the slippery path.

But eventually, we saw it. The waterfall. About three and a half hours later.

It was still raining but the sight of water tumbling down from what may be 70 metres up and the sheer force as it hits the pool below was just breathtaking.

John

This here is John. He was not properly attired for the trip. He wore his favourite jeans, long sleeve shirt and leather shoes. He is from Canada and Canadians, I was informed are really fun people. He's here on a job and admits to never been in a 'real rainforest'. Back at the village shop where we met for the first time, I asked him why the jeans and the rest of the disco outfit.

"Errrmm...but I brought my cap", he said. Someone obviously did not brief the guy properly.

That aside, John made it back with some cuts and bruises. He didn't expect to survive and while at the waterfall he contemplated and even welcomed a slow and painful rainforest death. He didn't think he could make it back but he made it of course and seemed to have enjoyed the whole 'real rainforest' thing despite falling and sometimes crawling most of the way.

But all was good.

One of the boys later mentioned that it would have been 'easier' had it not rain but I personally think it was made more interesting because it did. And really, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Two words.

Fucking. Awesome.

Brain Dead

2009-01-26T12:35:00.004+08:00

I have often wondered how memory works? Not from a scientific perspective but from an emotional one.

A friend told me the other day that what our minds choose to remember or forget is within our control. But how far back can we remember?

Definitely not our birth.

He says our first memories are typically big moments like a near drowning when our dad races to the bottom of the pool and pull us out or when we first learn to ride a bike. These moments define us, scare us, or delight us and most definitely shape us. And yes, I do remember these ones well.

But my first memory is being told to keep my mouth shut. This was an unsual thing or moment for me. Mom tells me I was an active, almost hyper kid and she and my grandmother had a tough time 'managing' me. Being told to keep quiet was really a big deal. I didn't understand why, but I was being told to keep my mouth shut. I remember that day they had tissues in their hands and I remember that.

We lived near the hospital then and I was used to having lots of relatives from the villages staying over but that day they spoke quietly. And I also remember some were crying. I didn't really understand but I knew something really important was up. So I sat quietly and watched my mom and grandma cry.

That is all I remember.

What amazes me and others about this memory is that I was about two years old. When I asked mom one day, she told me it was my great grand father's funeral. But in my mind I can see that little snapshot of them crying as clear as day. Many people I have told this story to say there is no way I could remember, but I fucking do.

What about the time when I was driving home from work couple of months back and for some reason suddenly remembered a birthday do I attended when I was 9 years old. I remember my kanid getting into a fight with his kid sister apparently because he moved some of the 'treasures' she hid earlier for our treasure hunt game she had planned. I don't know why my memory bank had to release this one then but I immediately called my kanid to get some confirmation. But all he did was laugh and said it was either an early indication of dementia or that the many big cats all these years may have destroyed a good part of my brain cells.

Dementia...dead brain cells?

I don't know.

Old Town

2009-01-09T15:09:00.002+08:00

You'll only find two rows of old wooden shophouses in Tebakang bazaar. Built along the swift Sungai Sadong, there are altogether seventeen shophouses but only four are occupied. Business used to be good until the road came, I was told. The towkay at Chop Jit Hin cofeeshop tells me most of the shop owners had moved on to either Serian or Kuching. Two families had migrated to the white man's country and only the grand children comes to visit sometimes, he says. It used to be busy in the old days but not anymore.

Here's some scene :-

The shophouses

Mirror, scissors and what used to be a fan

Closed windows

Dumex

Girl sitting on a bench

Old town kids

Solitary bench

Happy New Year

2009-01-04T23:40:00.008+08:00

If you really have to know, I did not usher this new year in with a bang. I'm in essence, a boring person and I don't do this new year countdown shitnitz. Not anymore.

But I did get a bit tipsy just before I hit the sack at 2:37am on the 1 January 2009. I had a few cans of the black juice and a couple of them big cats. The clan is still in town and we had the family thing going on at my aunts so I behaved. Pretty boring stuff with lots of bible reading and praying and shit like that.

So, there.

Oh, and don't you be asking about my new year resolution and all that shit cos I just don't do that shit. And I really don't give a shit. Really, I don't.

Today was good. It was good because I drove to Tebakang for a gastronomic fare. I was informed many times of this restaurant down at Tebakang bazaar that serves probably the best prawn dishes this part of the island and true enough, the one hour or so journey that it took for me to drive from Kuching was worth every minute. I was not disappointed at all.

I also had wild boar meat and their signature crispy noodle in some Chinese wine tasting sauce which were errr...wild and crispy.

That is all and good night.

Shit and December

2008-12-31T12:05:00.013+08:00

I've had so much meat in my diet the last three weeks, my fart smells meaty and my shit has evolved to a hard consistency with a touch of red hue. Almost brick red. It got me worried at first but after consulting my doctor, he reassured me that all should be well if there weren't any traces of blood.

I must say I enjoy taking a dump now. Especially in the morning.

And this morning, my shit tubes may have just composed a magnum opus. I thought I did one in February 2007 but this one beats it ass down. So I was sitting there and pushing and slowly but surely, this hard and huge piece of red-ish matter exited my shit hole accompanied by sporadic hissing of escaping gas. I pushed hard. Really hard and was a bit worried I'd burst a vein. But I did the one, two push sequence and it flowed merrily like the song. And then I remembered - this has got to be the lamb leg the other night. And the smell...oh, the smell.

After what seemed like a full minute or so it took to ooze out of my shit tubes, I felt a strange calmness over me. A serene relief like I just ejaculated or something like that.

That one, I believe, has got to be my most memorable bowel movement. I looked to see and was surprised. And was satisfied at the perfect spiral formed at the bottom.

I'm happy about my shit. At least now I can end this year on a happier note.

I don't know about you but I'm beginning not to like December. I used to but not anymore. What with Christmas and the migration of friends and relations from far and wide for the holidays, the festivity and all. It used to be fun and shit but I think I may have grown out of this festivity and realised like, fuck, this is becoming so fucking routine.

And when I looked in the mirror the other day, like I've always did this time of the year for the past years, I found myself staring for like an eternity. And then the voice - the voice asking me to take a step backwards and to fuck myself because, yes, this year I pretty much did not achieve anything worth mentioning. I had planned to travel, planned to go back to school, planned to go back to helping out at the Cheshire home and shit, planned to get my BP down from 130, planned to quit smoking, planned for a change of career but none of that happened because I fucked up or I was just too busy drinking them big cats and getting drunk. A whole year gone by and I didn't even notice it. But screw that.

The parental unit is in town. In fact, the whole clan is in town and if you know me well enough you'd know that my kin is big on eating. Especially meat. Hence my shit this morning.

You would have thought this family thing should put some cheer into this already depressing month but fuck, nooooo. Mom's sister has cancer. Of the worse and most aggresive kind. The doctors told her late last month the cancer wasn't responding to treatment and they don't give her much time. The whole clan had been supportive and its good they're all here to be with her. She is strong though, at least in spirit and we're all praying. It was her birthday yesterday and I baked her a cake.

Looking back, I think this year didn't turn out that bad for me. I got Hikaru Koto to actually reply my email if that counts for anything. I'm already planning to make that trip to Osaka to see her next year.

So, here's bidding sayonara to a fucked up 2008...

------------------------------

p/s : Damn!!! This Yuna singer songwriter babe fucking roooarrraawks!!!

Black And White

2008-12-06T12:35:00.002+08:00

Three kids

Look!

Innocence

Pounding