Bo peep Bo peep Bo peep Awwwww!

South Africa

Apartheid, until the 90s, when finally, the majority were given the right to rule their own country.

BLT

Let me tell you a story. A story of a man in love.

Driven by his longing, his life, his love, the man went and drank half a bottle of Jack Daniels in less than five minutes and went down on one knee and proclaimed a girl, to be a lesbian.

It was for love. Beauty, Love, Truth. Or Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato.

God's in His Heaven, All is Right with the World

I saw Evangelion 2.0 today. Reminds me of Goethe and Nit-Shit. But mostly, it reminds me of porn.

Evangelion porn. Oh, man. I want that thing.

DIalog Komik Paling Best

"Kau boleh serang aku dengan sepenuh kekuatan dalam tiga jurus. Aku takkan membalas. Kalau aku BERPELUH, aku lepaskan kau."

- Dewa Durjana, Komik Dewata Raya

"Kami menyerang tanpa senjata" - member Rico

"Tanpa senjata? Habis tu, pisau yang tercacak atas kepala aku ni, apa?"

- Pak Guard, dalam Pendekar II: Rico

"HIKMAT ANJING LAPAR MELAHAP TAHI!"

- Pendekar II: Rico

"Kuda menunggang monyet. Monyet jatuh sakit lalu demam selsema."

- Son Goku, Dragon Ball

Kogure: "Hari ni Akagi datang lambat untuk latihan, dia ada kelas tambahan fizik"

Sakuragi: "orang Utan belajar Fizik?"

- SlamDunk

"Pat pat siku lipat, sape lambat gigit jari."

- Pendekar Laut

"Tendangan Pemutus Zuriat!"

- Pendekar Laut


Dan banyak lagi, di: http://pergh.com/forum/index.php/topic,13672.60.html

Master Humphrey's Cock

In 2001, I was doing my internship at a software company that writes security programmes for banks.

I wasn't allowed near the source codes, but was given a Pentium PC (100MHz processor!) with 16MB EDO RAM to do some bug-finding and compile a Help file. The Help file is animated and constructed using Macromedia Director.

Other applications I run on that old PC was Photoshop (!) and Flash.

Today, I use a netbook with a 1.7GHz processor and 2GB of RAM. For Word! And surfing.

Don't give me any of that bullshit how netbooks are slow, okay.

I used to run fucking Lightwave 3D on my old 833MHz Pentium III PC, with 256MB SD RAM.

It took three hours to render three seconds of crappy 3D animation, but there you go.

Today's people are spoiled. ANy machine with less than 1GB RAM is slow, when for years - YEARS - some publications use a Mac with 256MB RAM for Quark and InDesign.

And before that, graphic artists used to die from bromide poisoning from the fucking bromide shit they used.

Me? Whenever I use a new machine, I find the machine's rhythm. There's a beat that goes with any machine, and you may have to adapt to the thing.

What is data, but music and math? Wrote Jack McKinney.

Good Mooorning Malaysia!

Here's my schedule for today:

A movie screening at 11am.

An assignment at 3.30pm.

A theatrical play at 8.30pm.

Amidst all that, I need to fit in helping taking care of the entertainment and lifestyle pages, like I always do every day.

Plus any other thing that might come up.

How do I do it? One thing at a time.

And hey, it beats carrying sacks of cement. I tried that once, when I was 19. I got one sack of cement from the lorry to the ground, and I had to sit down for half an hour. It was a fucking 50kg sack.

The guy who lifted the sacks was 50 years old. I thought that being 19, I would have more strength.

Nope.

I'm glad I write for a living. Grateful, really.

And I think I'll just watch that play tomorrow la.

Simple Truths

1. There is no right way.

It doesn't exist.

There is no right way. You just make things up as you go along.

There are many ways to lose the oldest game, as Neil Gaiman (chaos be upon him) wrote. Failure to roll into a defensive shape, hesitation, lack of imagination...

Greatest people I know, they roll with the punches. You have a big picture sketch, at the most. You don't know what's going to happen.

And who is to say what is right, and what is wrong? Not me. Not you. Not anybody.

2. Happiness is a choice.

And so is misery.

Choose wisely.

3. Typing, while naked, is extremely sexy.

Yeahhhh...

L'Homme qui rit

I laugh at you.

Fairy Tales

When I was a young boy, I thought that a Japanese-Jewish Thai heiress would come one day, riding and fucking a white horse, naked, and take me away from my old life.

She would take me to a white castle, and suck my dick.

That was my happy ending, I guess.

The Pickwickian Syndrome

In 2005, I suffered what could be described as Pickwickian Syndrome. I would wake up at night, interrupted by my shallow breathing.

It was sleep apnea. I had surgery to correct my deviated septum because for over 20 years, I had thought that humans breathe through their mouths and that the nose is only used for smelling things.

I did not have the urge to travel to coaching inns or meet crazy characters.

But there it is. Cost me an awful lot. The company insurance paid some of it, but I deem any company that only covers RM3,500 of medical expenses for each employee to be stupid, as full medical coverage insurance for companies are relatively cheap.

My surgery cost RM8,000++.

David Copperfield

I was 12. Everyone who was anyone was 12. Michael Owen. Ronaldinho. Pablo Aimar. We were all 12.

I had finished my UPSR and was spending the remainder of my school days in the AV room of my primary school, watching videos the teachers would bring.

There was Power Rangers The Movie, Gremlins and Honey, I Blew Up The Kid or something. All kids' movies.

Then, one day, one teacher brought a video of David Copperfield's performance. David Copperfield, the magician. Not David Copperfield the beggar thief whatever British kid thingy. Or perhaps, with a twist, Artful Dodger. Cockney rhyming schemes and all that.

Nope. It was simply, David Copperfield, making a ship disappear. Going through the Great Wall of China, levitating above the Grand Canyons. Making the Statue of Liberty disappear. Poking a cigarette through a coin.

All the girls refused to watch the vieo. They upped and left. Because they said, and I remember this today, "Hmph! Pakai jin!" (Hmph! Illegal use of Djinn!)

I was pissed off at that, and realised that girls are raised and taught to cry out and wail in pain about their bleeding vaginas every time, because the more a woman is in pain, the higher their worth in the cattle market or whatever.

And so I watched David Copperfield and his duck. David Copperfield and his djinns, as the girls all boycotted the multi-million dollar tomfoolery of amazing tricks that never happened.

One day, I will make you disappear. And I'm not sure they will have a video of it either.

Great Expectations

As I left my Kuantan home, my father asked me, "Do you have any expectations?"

I was perplexed. Stunned.

What?

"What?"

"Expectations. Do you have them?"

"What kind of expectations(and why the fuck are you using 'expectations' in a sentence)?"

"You know, you wanted to work in a foreign country and all that, last time. Any of those expectations?"

"Nope. No expectations at all."

And here there was a pause, as if my father was about to tell me to go to a house where an old lady lived, and for me to play with a girl. Where all the clocks stopped at a particular time. And rotting wedding cakes lie untouched for 30 years.

But none came. And I went back to KL.

Thus ends my Great Expectations.

Disrespecting Your Readers

In about five minutes, I am going to fall asleep. Cause of my taking benadryl again.

I just decided to post this bullshit nothing post so that you would waste your time reading a nothing.

It's all garbage.

Raw Shark

By Allen Muir

Am home. Been home for some time. Took cough medicine. Regulating sleep.

Feel fine. Sleepy. But fine.

Some tricky things to navigate tomorrow. A few stories. A handful of words. When did it come to pass, that all of mankind managed to put all of worth on paper and ink?

Ammonium chloride taking its toll. Note to self: Never take cough mixture before writing.

I have seen humanity, and I have seen the cities. How dirty, corrupt, blablabla.

Only hope is for cities to kill humanity. That cities will rise. And kill people.

Will stand by and let it happen.

Watch the vermins scutter and skitter and scurry.

Will laugh to see such a sight.

Good Hair

I just saw the Chris Rock documentary - Good Hair. It details of how obsessed black people - especially black women - are in having long, straight hair.

Weaves, relaxed hair, straightened hair, blablabla. All through painful, costly and sometimes dangerous processes.

Did you know that the chemical used to 'relax' hair can dissolve an aluminum can? Yep.

That 20% of the US population buy 80% of the hair products? And that 80% of hair products are manufactured for black people?

Personally, I just don't get it. Why would I want to fuck a woman, if I can't touch/lick everything on her body?

Anyone who can't take a shower with me can go fuck yourself.

What's wrong with an afro?

When I spoke to women about it, they started blaming men. When I talk to men about it, they start blaming women. That, or big corporations. Or the media.

What kind of ignorant bullshit is this?

When you talk about something that might seem wrong (I'm not saying it is), most people seem to need to start blaming other people.

Hm.

Whatever.

I'm finishing something. Be back later. Oh, I got an SMS today, saying that one of my movies is sold to 25 countries already. Cool beans!

Pengusaha Penternakan Hantu Raya Komersial

Just got back from Kuantan last night, coughing like crazy.

My mother suspects that I am a victim of black magic.

I thought it was just bronchitis, but she suggested (not accused, as she knows my stance in the whole supernatural thingy) that someone has sent me 'something' and that 'something' is santau - a supernatural poison.

I told her, "They can't send ghosts to me. I am the devil. I'll just eat them up."

To which she pooh-poohed and chastised me for being so arrogant.

I was more than a bit lethargic at Kuantan. As soon as I was in a horizintal position, I was out like a light. And then, even with just a couple of stocks of cigarettes throughout the entire week, I was still coughing like crazy.

My diagnosis was simple:

1. I fell asleep easily because I was sleep-deprived. Pulling 16-hour days, with side projects is no joke, and has never been a joke with me. Wait till you see my 20-hour work days.

2. The cough came from battle damage to my lungs, and possibly bronchitis.

3. My headahces, came from stress. My father's health is stable. He has not gotten worse, but he has not gotten better either. And he remains a stubborn old man as always. Tried to talk to him, but he is beyond reproach, so there is little else I could do.

Surprisingly, I did not lose my temper this time. Going home to Kuantan almost always resulted in at least one argument or verbal fight. My family members, including myself, are extremely righteous and individualistic. We see things in such different ways.

And though it is impossible to determine who is right and who is wrong, that is exactly what we strive to do.

Some things, though, drew us together.

And it was heartening to see my nephews, the next generation, growing as healthy as weeds.

The eldest has so much potential, but has learned only to give excuses for his failings. I confronted him almost every time I was back.

I see that my brother and my siblings have also done their work on the boy. He now has taken up chess. I play with him, to see how his mind works. Torture him through my ponderous, slow thinking process to decide on a move, to teach him patience.

It did not work, but I hope that in time, he will appreciate the art of waiting your turn. That there is a time to attack, feint and defend. To lay and spring a trap.

The middle child needs little work, being born with an almost natural empathy and a love for peace. With the right influence, he might do well as a happy person.

The youngest, is object-oriented. He is not a people-person. His PR sucks. That has to change. In time, with training.

My role in the family has also changed, somewhat. I am the youngest, the last son of whatever. So all these years, I was grateful as to my role in the background.

Circumstances have demanded a more active participation. I'm so fucking lazy. Why can't the cup pass to someone else?

Oh woe is me.

Blablabla.

Oh well.

I play my function. My aspect. Not the image of it, not the stupid hollow ego form, but the actual substance.

Reluctantly, of course. But when things are set in course, there is little time to look back, or even to look ahead. I am busy executing.

I am glad that my brother and sisters are smart people. We are not stupid, and for that, I am thankful.

We are not smart in that annoying Malaysian way of valuing 'outsmarting people', which is so fucking egotistical. We are intelligent in the sense that I do not have to go and kill any of them because they annoy me.

People say that ignorance is bliss. Well, they can keep their ignorance. We will be as aware as we are.

Which brings me back to black magic.

Well, if santaus or sembahyang hajats did work, then George W Bush would have died many years ago. So would all the Jews in Israel.

To me, black magic is a cop out. A crutch. An excuse. I will not run away. I am here. Still saying, fuck the free world.

And I am the devil.

The Gizzards of Oz

My oh my.

As I am attending to the drama of my family here on the East Side, I totally missed the protest against the 50 Australian lawmakers who are trying to tell us dirty little Asian monkeys how to run our dirty little Asian business.

Go read Rocky's Bru. He was there. Or Google.

Basically, I read last week that these Australian MPs decided to tell us Malaysians that we should drop all charges against Anwar Ibrahim.

Now, here's the thing. I do not give a shit whether it's right or wrong, but these Gizzards of Oz should stay the fuck away from our dirty little Asian business.

Yeah, yeah. We're Asians. We're barbarians. We don't know how to run our own affairs and our own country.

Who the fuck IZ YOU, to tell us what to do? What, our barbecues not so nice? We don't have pockets on our cows? What? What, motherfucker, what?

I mean, I like Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman, but Australia was not a good movie. That movie was so bad, if I don't have sleeping pills, I turn it on.

I don't care if Najib were to one day wake up and declare himself a Grand Inquisitor and that the world is flat, and anyone who believes otherwise, will be Inquisited. We handle our own business.

And people here, Malaysians, who go running to outside, foreign powers for help are:

1. Stupid.

2. Cowards.

3. Selfish.

4. Stupid.

5. Did I mention STUPID?

Because those people are not FOR you. They're for themselves. Justice my ass. It's 'what I get out of it', not a universal fight for truth, beauty and love.

These traitors' fates are sealed. Because no matter who wins, they are screwed.

If the locals win, they're screwed, cause they worshipped foreign Gods. If the Foreign Gods win, they're also screwed. You think they're gonna suck your dick? After you backstabbed your own people, what reason would these fuckers have for trusting you?

Oooh, you didn't think it through, did you? Well, allow me to congratulate you as the biggest loser I have ever met on this plane or the next.

No matter what, we should never allow other motherfuckers fuck with our shit. Because we have enough motherfuckers already. Throwing more motherfuckers into the mix would not solve anything - it just makes it worse.

But then again, to those traitorous bastards, I ask you to continue to sell yourself, your people and your country this way. Makes it easier for me to kill you later.

Cheers!

Family Guy: The Warm Up

I am at home, in Kuantan, taking care of some family matters as well as taking some time off... to do work.

I have stopped smoking, so whenever my head hits a pillow or when I find myself in a horizontal position, I tend to fall asleep rather quickly.

In almost one week, I have only had two sticks of cigarettes on the first day and none at all since then.

I still have coffee, though, and this current, sugarless batch is giving me headaches as I strive to finish one of three things I wanted to finish here.

I have hit a snag with one writing project, and am now writing this in an effort to unclog my brain.

Being with my family this past week reminded me why I never, ever, want to be part of any other family. One is enough, thank you.

We are fiercely individualistic. Almost solitary. And whenever we get together, we are reminded why.

Family nurtures the ego. All the bad things in life - the posturing, the ignorance, the image, righteousness, the competition, the pride, blablabla - all nurtured by family surroundings.

The family mindset is like a virus of the soul. It makes you weak, soft, spiteful and defensive.

And also how I hate weddings. One of my extended family members held a wedding a few days ago. I didn't go, for fear of food poisoning. I did not know that family for their hygiene. So, no thank you.

My family? The family is fine. Fucked up as they will ever be, but they're fine.

My father is sick, and all the drama that comes with being old and being sick is making itself apparent.

Eckhart Tolle once quoted another person who said, "If you think you are enlightened, go spend a week with your family."

How very true. Our families test our patience, as we fight an unending war against them turning into monkeys and parameciums.

I find the 'letting go' approach to have worked wonders.

As in, "If you don't take this medication, you will die. But that's your life, so do with it as you will."

Man, I wish I had a cigarette now. The kind of pressure and stress I could potentially put on myself is astounding. Daunting, to be exact. For me.

The only difference with this trip home is the fact that I have let go of a lot of things already, and am prepared for most of whatever.

The problem with families is that sometimes, they want and need attention. I give attention as real as I can. In the sense that I do not emote mindless affection, but pragmatic stoicism, while being entirely on their side.

There is no running away from family. I can't really take a vacation and hide somewhere, from family. So whatever it is, I need and want to deal with it.

There are many things still to be done with the family. Several rescue operations. Defensive setups, safety nets, as well as some well-coordinated attacks.

Oh well. What to do?

Why People Should Not Get Married

Some people should not get married. Oops, let me rephrase that. MOST, if not ALL people, should not get married.

If you're poor, you shouldn't get married. If you're an idiot, you shouldn't get married. If you're not sure about anything in your life, you shouldn't get married.

Marriage is only for people with money. And breeding, having kids - each kid is RM1 million. If you don't have at least RM1 million to burn, don't even have a single kid.

I am telling you now. If you are poor, you should not have kids. The fuck are you gonna feed the stupid little stupids anyway?

And I am not so much against marriage as I am against weddings. Weddings are probably the stupidest thing ever invented by humans.

Weddings, historically, is just to let people know that these two people are fucking. So that there would not be any dispute. That's it. Ain't got nothing to do with God, throwing rice or throwing money at idiots.

In today's world, if the intention is only to inform people that you two are fucking you can:

1. Get a sex-tape out.

2. Put it on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, blogs, forums, etc.


I am so fucking pissed with marriage and weddings, cause I am in Kuantan right now, seeing how my parents' marriage turned out as well as some relatives.

I believe that my parents should not have married, and in fact even if they did, should not have had any children. Cause they couldn't afford children. Fucked up their finances big time. And now they're old, with no insurance coverage.

When we grew up, some of us only had like, two shirts. I was lucky, cause I'm the last one. SO I got a lot of hand-me-downs.

I just asked my father, "Why did you have kids?"

His answer? "I don't know. I never thought about that."

Yeah, that's right. My reason for being, is... nothing! Muahahahaha.

I never asked to be born, but I was. Boo fucking hoo. Here I am.

The thing about breeding that gets to me is the not just the finances, which are dreadful.

I mean, consider that 10 years ago, a decent LOCAL tertiary education may set you back 30-50 thousand. If you have kids now, when he/she/it matures in 20 years, how much do you think a degree would cost?

My estimate? RM350-750K at the LOW END. So if you just had kids, congratulations, LOSER!

It's okay if you're rich, or going to be rich. But that's not all of us. Most of us, 10.4 million of us make less than 3K per month. So fuck you.

But the thing about breeding that gets to me is the responsibility.

I mean, you bring one life to this world, and you know that:

1. That kid will one day die.

2. The journey towards dying may not be so pleasant.

The way I see it, anyone who bred, but has never thought about these, the monumental responsibility that comes with causing death, are selfish fucktards.

Making children just so you could show off to other idiots is an extremely selfish thing to do.

And don't get me started on the cheating and spousal abuse and all the other bullshit. And it's not just men who do it. Some women are also gatal puki (has an itch in their vagina) that needs to scratched.

Most people go into these things unprepared, conned for years by chocolate makers and mak andams and wedding planners and Hallmark and other bullshit motherfuckers.

I believe that humans should just stop breeding and focus on waging nuclear war and pollute on a catastrophic scale.

Make bombs, not babies.

Why

Because.

The Power of Empathy

Two days ago, a dentist told me that I would have to pay him RM2,000 to fix my teeth. I was so pissed off, I almost travelled back though time to give his grandfather a roundhouse kick in the face.

Today, another dentist told me that the best treatmentr for my teeth would cost me RM30,000. With other options that range from RM7,200 to RM3,600. And yet I left the place happy and satisfied.

I was not angry at all.

In these two days, did I manage to make RM30,000?

No. Well, nevermind.

But. The difference was how this other dentist told me about this.

The first one did very little explaining and presented me with only one method of treatment, which may or may not be good. It's root canal + crowning. At RM1,000 a tooth, for two teeth.

I went to this other one, and she explained to me why she does not think that root canal is not the answer to my problem.

I can do more fillings, but it will only last a few more months before another filling has to be placed in.

Root canal is not really the answer, because it makes the tooth brittle and crownings only last an average of two years. Maybe more, but rarely would it last for 10 years or so.

Bridging is a better option, though it will involve three teeth at once, every time you do it. One tooth is around RM1,200. Three is RM3,600.

Implants are the best option, but each costs RM5,000. Yes, that's RM5,000 for each tooth.

This is why for people suffering from poverty, I suggest: suicide.

Oh well.

I am telling this story to share lessons on how empathy can help things along.

I learned it the hard way this earlier year, when I showed little compassion and empathy in one dealing. Thankfully, no money was involved.

This dentist I saw this morning is an example of how even with bad or costly news, there are ways of doing it without hankering down and saying, "RM2,000!"

With me, I needed information. I will not make any major decision, or middling ones, without enough information. I do not base my decisions on faith, whenever I could avoid it. Sometimes, you have to, but in dentistry or medicine in general, I tend to ask around first.

I mean, if something was done to your body, you can't get your money back. There is no money-back guarantee in medicine.

The first dentist gave me very little information. I know the teeth needed work, but he gave me little information and no options.

This other one gave me as much information as I would care to get, and gave options ranging from not doing anything at all (I am not in pain, unless I poke the tooth on the left with a needle, or punch myself in the face) to the RM30,000 full implant, bionic teeth one.

For RM30,000, it better give me superpowers. If not, I'll try the other alternatives.

Anyway, all is fine. I am waiting for my ride to go back to Kuantan. When I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn... Rejoice - every time you hear the sound of my voice...

Kong Hee Fatt Choy Vs Gong Xi Fa Cai

Bapak aku keturunan Kantonis. Aku pun menonton banyak filem dan siri TV Hong Kong yang berbahasa Kantonis, pada zaman dahulu.

Oleh itu, telinga aku lebih senang dengan bahasa Kantonis.

Aku lebih senang dengan ucapan Kong Hee Fatt Choy daripada Gong Xi Fa Cai.

Aku lebih suka memaki dalam dialek Hakka. Tapi tak ada bahasa boleh melawan Bahasa Malaysia kalau nak maki orang.

Pantat pukimak mak bapak kau berdarah! Puki berdarah, puki bernanah! Pergi hisap biji kelentit mak kau la, anak haram sungguh!

Datuk ko, rogol mak kau pakai kambing. Sebab tu dapat ko yang bodoh piang macam pukimak ni! Puki mak kau kering macam padang pasir.

Hikmat Puki Padang Pasir! Menyerap semua air dalam badan manusia!

Mak ko suka isap konek anjing! Bapak ko rogol babi!

Yeah! Satu minggu kat kampung, tanpa membeli rokok!

Aku balik seminggu lagi. Sementara tu, bye bye!

Bola Bola Babi

Ahmad Kamal Abu Bakar bangga sangat dengan Liverpool.

Kebanyakan orang yang suka benda-benda popular, sokong Man U. Bukan kenal pun players dia. Aku pernah duduk kat Hartamas ke, kat mana, tengok Chelsea Vs Man U, final FA Cup tahun berapa entah.

Penyokong Man U yang pakai skarf Man U, jersi Man U, mungkin spender Man U bertanya dengan girangnya, "Itu Wes Brown kan?"

Well,

1. Mamat tu kulit putih

2. Mamat tu bukan Wes Brown

3. Mamat tu Michael Carrick

Memang loser. LOSER!

Ada mamat tanya aku, aku sokong team mana. AKu cakap, aku tak sokong team mana-mana. AKu sokong Jose Mourinho.

Pastu diorang terus try nak kutuk Jose Mourinho. Pasal team diorang macam pukimak.

Man U?

Oi! Ferguson! Kalau Beckham ko tak suka, Ronaldo ko tak suka, Jaap Stam ko tak suka, ko main sendiri la, pukimak!

Liverpool?

Apasal semua orang yang masuk Liverpool jadi hodoh? Liverpool dalam tahun 90an mempunyai pemain-pemain paling hodoh dalam dunia.

John Arne Riise? Muntah!

El Hadji Diouf? Buweeeekkk!

Samy Hyypia? BARF!

Benda pertama yang Rafael Benitez buat adalah menambah bebudak jambu dalam skuad Liverpool.

Tapi hasilnya? Benitez jadi rupa cam Gerard Houllier.



Inilah akibatnya cuba mengubah imej Liverpool menjadi pasukan yang dibarisi model-model spender lelaki macam Freddie Ljungberg kat Arsenal dulu.

Chelsea?

John Terry.

Nuff said.

Manchester City?

Kelab yang besar takkan terhegeh-hegeh cakap, "Kami kelab besar!"

Menggelabah la ko, mat!

Arsenal?

Macam perempuan Perancis. Lawa, tapi ketiak busuk.

Jose Mourinho jugak best.

Kalulah segalanya untukku.
Kaulah curahan hati ini. (mampus aku tak ingat lirik)

Blablabla

Tiada lagi yang ku mahukan, hanya kau seorangggg.

Shit

A day without meating anyone from the office. I feel free.

I feel the power moving within me again. I see the flow. I see everything. My mind is clear. I am at peace.

I am in Nirvana.

I am in the toilet, and the power is moving within me. Soon, I will unleash the power.

POWERRRRR!!!

Ada Apa Dengan Tanda?

Some of my theatre friends are in distress. Well, yes, admittedly they can be theatrical and dramatic at times, but this is a real thing.

Rumah Anak Teater (RAT) was going about, staging a play - TANDA - using proper channels at ASWARA when last week, they were chased off by security guards and are stopped from doing theatre.

Why?

Because of some whatever reason. Well, The Malay Mail had the story a few days ago. I was just too goddamn busy to get around to this.

Anyway, here is an excerpt:

The Malay Mail later learnt that a meeting had been held between Aswara rector Datuk Dr Mohamed Najib Ahmad Dawa and the play's co-directors a few hours before the performances were called off.

Apparently, the rector had highlighted his concerns over certain erotic elements in the play, about which he had been allegedly told by the academy's staff.

There was also some confusion over the approval given for staging the play at the theatre as well as an issue of donations received after the performances, despite it being staged free for the audience.

Here's the link: Click here

As a result, Namron (Tanda's artistic director) has quit as lecturer at ASWARA, with more lecturers threatening to leave as well. ASWARA has yet to do a full PC, I heard, or even a Press statement. At least none that I came across.

This sounds like nothing short of censorship.

And bullying.

I have not seen the show, but people who have gone to see it are saying that it is as erotic as your mother's bra hanging from the clothesline.

There are other, more risque shows. But that's not the point.

The point is, the freedom to stage a play has been curbed.

What is it about the play Tanda that terrifies ASWARA so much, that they would actually stand to lose their staff and students, as well as credibility, just to stop it?

I hope Namron gets the play staged elsewhere, and for people who control or manage venues to open their doors for Tanda to be staged. And for people with money, who want to be real liberals, and not just Lip-Service Liberals, or more properly-known as Lip-Stick Liberals, to come and fund this show. It's cheap.

Let the people find out for themselves what ASWARA is preventing people from seeing. I hope there is a vagina, but eyewitness acounts said no, no vagina. No nipples, either.

I'm not a Taliban, so ankles do not excite me. And neither am I a pedo-priest. I do not get excited over altar boys.

I am curious, what is it that is so very threatening in Tanda?

I hope that Namron, in his capacity of UNEMPLOYED MAN would go forth and sell Tanda as 'THE PLAY THEY DID NOT WANT YOU TO SEE' to Joe Hasham and Datuk Faridah Merican's KLPac or The Actors' Studio Lot 10 or PJLA. And perhaps throw in a bunch of naked ladies.

This work has the makings of transcending its potential, and perhaps even its quality. The hype generated by the 'Evil ASWARA' alone is worth paying RM20 bucks to go and see. Hell, I'd pay RM50 to see this shit, man!

Year (of the OX) End Roundup

Man. What a year.

I'll start with Today. I left the office at 4pm today for a 5pm dental appointment. Two fillings on each side of my rows of teeth have fallen out, and I need some patches.

These cavities were problematic, and I had to scour the entire city to find three dentists who could fill them in rather than do a root canal.

My regular dentists were fully-booked, so I went to a dentist in Sri Petaling.

He took one look and said, "RM2,000."

Me: What?

Dentist: Root canal and crowning. These teeth can't be saved.

Me: I just came for fillings.

Dentist: No. Root canal and crowning.

Me: How much is it? RM2,000? I don't have money.

Dentist: No lah. It won't be RM2,000. RM350 for the root canal, and RM600 for the crowning.

Me: For one tooth? Two, that's 2000 lah! I just need fillings. Fillings came off, fillings go back again?

Dentist: No lah. Haiya, I will only fill up one of your teeth.

Me: How about this?

I gave him a 9mm handgun and a ski mask.

Dentist: What's this for?

Me: So you can rob me. Or, maybe this.

I stood up and took off my pants.

Dentist: Wow! Great! Eh, why?

Me: So you can rape me.

Goddamn dentist.

Ah well.

I left in a really, really bad mood.

Then, while having an early dinner, one of the directors of one of the movies I wrote sent me an SMS.

It was a nice SMS, and though I no longer need appreciation to survive, it is still nice to be appreciated. At the very least, kind words work. That's the very base level, and yet it still did wonders.

I watched the pregnant rainclouds, while enjoying the best chicken rice in KL, and thought, "man, what a year."

There are so many things to be grateful about.

I am back with The Malay Mail. Always been a crazy place to work in. Always had crazy people there. One of these days, maybe I'll write a book based on those characters.

Magika - my second movie - previewed a few days ago, and I couldn't go, because I decided to spend 16 hours at the office. By choice. I am going off for a week, so there were things that needed preparing. So when I get emails while I'm off, all I would need to do would be to forward emails from my Blackberry. Hopefully.

I am grateful that I actually made movies. I actually wrote scripts, and those scripts got turned into movies. What a feeling, man. I feel like a father.

I got to work with many people, with different styles. It is really kind of cool, I have to admit that. Cause one day, when I'm older, I want to produce and direct my own movies. For now, though, I am just happy that I have something to show for.

There are still many things to learn, and when I am ready, I will direct and produce my own work. There is no rush. Things will come, in time, when you are ready for it. Sometimes, much earlier than you or I ever expected.

I decided to stop smoking a few weeks ago. It has been a roller-coaster ride. I feel anger threatening to well up every time. It took a superhuman effort not to punch people in the face... the first few days. After that, it was just sporadic.

I am going to Kuantan for a week, with a VERY limited supply of cigarettes, covered by a person who would not give me more than two sticks a day. I will see if I can't just kick the habit then and there.

My father has been sick, and I have spent most of my resources on his well-being. The one thing I couldn't do was to spend more time with him. I hope to do that when I'm back in Kuantan.

The year of the Ox has been a year of beginnings. Not the year of the Rat, which was supposed to be a year of new beginnings. The zodiac got it wrong. WRONG!

It was also a year of hard work. I will see if I can decrease the amount of work I do while making myelf more effective, and accomplish more things. I have nothing to prove in the area of hard work. Let's see if I can do more, with less.

It's the Year of the Metal Tiger, starting Sunday.

I was born on the Year of the Metal Monkey. The hour of the rooster, the day of the white metal dragon, month of the rabbit and year of the white metal dragon.

Directions I need to be aware of: Southeast, East, Southwest.

Oh well.

Am looking forward to a break and coming back refreshed. If I can get my tank just around 40% full, there will be wonders to be done later.

Cheers!

Do You Believe in Magic?

My second movie had its preview yesterday. Well, it's not MY movie, MY movie. I wrote the script, so I was part of the whole thing, I guess.

I wanted to go, but couldn't. There are too many things to do before the Chinese New Year week.

The movie, after MySpy, is Magika. Featuring a star-studded cast, I believe it will either be in the cinemas in March, or probably September this year.

I haven't seen it myself, so you'll just have to bear with me on this one. I hope the jokes make it in.

Magika is basically a throwback to such stories and films as Alice in Wonderland, Labyrinth, the Wizard of Oz, and many Japanese cartoons I have seen as a child.

The decision to include, or exclusively feature Malaysian myths in the movie is because some kids nowadays might be more familiar with kage bunshin no jutsu rather than Pak Pandir.

I had fun writing that movie. I hope that it will be an equally fun experience to watch it. Judging from initial feedback from friends, they said it's good. I'll find out soon, I hope.

I... Am Unicron

I just woke up to a phone call from some PR lady. My voice sounded like Unicron.

I am so fucking cool.

Roid Rage

I want to pick fights with small kids.

I hate Naruto. Not because Naruto's fucking gay. Hell, it would have been cool if Naruto would just come out of the closet and admit to being the gay icon he is.

Like when he actually kissed Sasuke:



Here's all of the dialogues in Naruto:

Naruto: Sasuke!

Sasuke: Naruto!

Naruto: Sasuke!

Sasuke: Naruto!

Naruto: Sasuke!

Sasuke: Naruto!

Repeat ad infinirectum.

Naruto is fucking gay.

But that's not why I hate Naruto. I hate Naruto cause all its fanboys and stupid fucking fangirls believe that everyone copied from Naruto.

Avatar? Naruto copy! Why? Cause it has a village in it.

Jessica Alba? Naruto Copy! Why? Cause Naruto fans are fucktards.

I fucking hate Naruto.

In fact, let me just spoil everything for you right now:

In the end, Naruto makes love to Sasuke's sweet slut ass.

THE END.

Cowboy Bebop

The greatest thing that mankind can ever achieve is Cowboy Bebop. I said it then, I'm saying it again.

I believe that a superior, imaginary being put humans on earth, possibly created us after he created himself using a... BOOM STICK!

Anyway, I believe that we were put on earth so that one day, we would make Cowboy Bebop.

After that, Armageddon.

Cowboy Bebop is the highest aspiration of mankind - the greatest form of its art, science, ideas and whatever else. To go beyond Cowboy Bebop, is impossible.

When I first saw Cowboy Bebop, I ejaculated violently, several times. Drowned my neighbour. That's how great Cowboy Bebop is.

Random House

I have refrained from making butt jokes about Anwar, or making him the butt of jokes. For several reasons:

1. Anwar is no longer funny. He's boring. Old news. So the man gets caught/accused of buttfucking every 10 years.

BIG FUCKING DEAL.

Cry me a fucking river.

Now, YoRais, that's the HOT, IN-THING at the moment, yo!

2. People are self-centered. I am people. Therefore, I am self-centered. Not as self-centered to the extent of cutting in line like some mildly well-dressed assturd monkeyfuckers (pin-striped shirt) at the mamak shop at 3-2 Square, during lunch today.

Cut my queue again tomorrow, and I am going to eat your children.

Not even as self-centered as the sow and piglet at Midvalley Megamall this morning - a mother-daughter team of queue-cutters at the taxi stand, North Court, on whom I unleashed a tirade of profanity which caused the girl to cry.

No.

But still, I only care about myself, so fuck Anwar. Figuratively.

3. I am getting angry. Angrier and angrier. ANGRY!

Interview with an Umpire

So after almost everyone left the office, I went down to have dinner with one of my best friends.

I found myself with her, sipping cooling coffee as we farted and burped after a heavy meal of chicken and rice.

"They annoy me," she said.

"Who?"

"Idiots."

Me: Why?

She: They just do! They annoy me! Because I don't believe in stupidity or innocence. Everyone is responsible for everything they do. They are evil, malicious, spiteful, self-centered, EVILLLL!!!! ARRGGHHH! They annoy me.

Me: They're people. People will always be like that. But why?

She: Why what?

Me: Why allow yourself to be annoyed? Why give them that power?

She: What do you mean? I find them annoying because I hold on to values. Right and wrong. Ethics and morality. And I shall not compromise.

Me: Wait. Those are good values. If you hold on to good values, only good things will come from them - only good feelings. Being annoyed, I believe that there is something else you are holding on to. Something negative.

She: Do you know what it is?

Me: I don't know what it is. That's for you to find out.

She: ...

Me: ...

She: So, how are you?

Me: You know, not many people ask that and stick around to hear the answer.

She: Maybe because you deflect everything, every time someone asks.

Me: Maybe because they all fall asleep after a while.

She: So tell me. How are things?

Me: I'm stressed out, man.

She: Why? Work?

Me: Work is work. This is not as bad as the time when I puked blood. So, it's still manageable. I'm coasting, mostly.

She: So? Your father?

Me: ... yeah.

She: What's happening?

Me: I...am...so....angry. ANGRY!

She: Why? Superhero complex?

Me: No.

She: Why?

Me: I'm angry. ANgry. ANGRY. REALLY, REALLY ANGRY.

She: Not at him?

Me: No.

She: At the situation?

Me: Yes... and no.

She: Then?

Me: Huhhhhhh.

She: ...

Me: I am okay with death. I dealt with that last year. The reality of it all. The mortal nature. The fact that we are all going to die. That my father will die. That is all... accepted. I guess... I am just not ready to accept that he is so stubborn at giving himself pain. At torturing himself. At smoking four packs a day, not watching what he eats, not caring about wounding his legs when he has diabetes.

Me: I think about it. About how he can go blind. How he can lose his legs. And to avoid all of those things, is not impossible. I hate it. I hate the fact that there are things that can be done, but is not being done.

She: ...

Me: I wake up every morning, and I have this thing hanging over my head. This, swinging axe.

She: The Pit and the Pendulum.

Me: ...

She: Sorry, you were monologuing. Continue.

Me: There's that thing. It hangs over my head. If my father spends the rest of his life in pain, I am not sure how I can live with that. I cannot accept that.

She: There are things you can't resist. When you've done all you could, there is nothing else you can do.

Me: I hate the fact that I am poor!

She: You are not poor.

Me: Yeah, my neighbour is poor. I hate the fact that I am not rich. I can't hire an army of nurses. I can't fly in specialists from Johns Hopkins. I can't afford cryogenics, robotics. I can't hire people to ensure that no bramble or bush cuts into his skin.

She: You have a choice. Resist circumstances, or accept them. Not accept them as in surrender and die and not do anything. Just... be okay with it. Can you be okay with it? I mean, be okay with it, and function however you can? Cause they need you out there. Being angry, hateful, stressed out, will not help him, it will not help you. You need to function. Become your aspect. And you need to be okay with it.

Me: It is not easy.

She: It can be.

Me: You know what? This is why, over the years, I have lost and gotten rid of a lot of friends. This is why, all these years, I've only kept a few.

She: Yeah, I know.

Me: I'll just have you know, I'm on your side.

She: Of course. Because I KNOW I'm right.

Me: Yeah, I don't care if you're right or wrong. You can be as wrong as you can be. You can get into a fight, cause you killed this person's baby. And ate it. I don't give a shit. I'm on your side.

Membujur Lalu, Melintang Patah

Aku tak kira, dan aku tak berkira.

Jadi, maka jadilah. Mati, maka matilah kau.

Sylvester

I am now on Twitter.

Name: amirhafizi.

The Knowledge-Based Ego

Ever notice, when you are telling people something they may not know, a sense of pride sometimes creeps in? For a brief moment, you feel superior to the person who do not know. And sometimes, for some people, being told news they did not know makes them feel a bit inadequate?

Or when you hear some idiot you just educated, saying, "Oh, I knew that already! I know everything!"

This, my friends, is the ego. The festering, cancerous tumour that envelops the soul, making it as dark and stupid as their mother's vaginal canal from which they came.

How do you react to all this bullshit? Don't. Leave them be. To die. To suffer and kill each other. I have seen egos consume each other. Habitual backstabbers and cannibals will eat each other up like Ouroborous, the serpent who eats its own tail.

In other words, fuck off and die.

Meanwhile, I am so fucking smart. I have just repaired my own PC. I am the greatest this universe has ever seen. I am the greatest under heaven, and above heaven, and in heaven.

No ego is bigger than my ego.

I do not need to be told that I am right. I need not be proven right. I KNOW I am right.

Amir Hafizi, Computer Diagnostician

Fucking hell, man.

My computer was experiencing problems. Every time I leave it off for more than a few hours, it won't start.

Meaning, I would turn it on, the lights would be blinking, but no display. It didn't even go into BIOS. No BIOS beep. After 20 times or more of restarting via the power button, it will be okay again.

It can't be RAM, cause that would generate a blue screen. Can't be a number of things, cause no blue screen. Just... nothing.

I suspected either:

a. graphics card burnout

b. temperature problems

c. Hard disk dying

d. Power supply issues

Of all this, C is the worst possible scenario. I have in these hard disks, 14 years worth of stuff I accumulated.

Thankfully, most of the important documents are saved in my portable hard drive as well as the Internet.

So when I have a problem, usually I call one of my friends. He came here, and tried to fix it. But, couldn't diagnose the problem properly. He showed me taht the temperature of the CPU is quite high - 52 degrees Celsius, on a rainy day, without running anything.

Diagnosis: system too hot. Fans might be dirty.

Treatment: clean the fans, perhaps install a cooling system, a new power supply, and a new large copper heatsync for the processor, re-applying the liquid coolant.

Cost: around RM200.

Then my brother just announced that he will be staying at my apartment for one night. Asked him to take a look at my system, as he has over 20 years experience with this shit.

He says that temperature is the least of my problems. What I was experiencing sounded like:

a. onboard battery failure

And the treatment is:

a. buy a new motherboard battery

Cost: RM7

He did some stuff to my PC, when I was watching House, and then went to sleep.

When I checked on my PC just now, I discovered that after rebooting, my login screen has gone 800x600, was in 16-bit High Color and was stuttering like an old lady with aa walker, humping a mailbox.

My brother's already asleep, so I had to use computer skills I haven't accessed in more than 10 years.

I rebooted several times, hoping the problem would just go away. Nada.

I left it for 10 minutes, hoping it would go away. Nope.

I restarted in safe mode. Success! Resolution was back to 1024x968.

Fiddled a bit, defragged C:, ran scan disk, checked for viruses, rebooted normally.

Still the same problem.

Rebooted and entered via Ubuntu.

Did ssome real thorough checking for stupid shit disk errors and possible bullshit viruses or trojans. Nada.

Restarted, same problem.

Did a rollover. Restored system config to a safe backup.

Success!

Yay?

Here's my diagnosis:

A. My computer is too old.

Even at 1.76GHz dual core, 4GB RAM, it is a bit old.

Treatment:

Shopping.

I don't need an entirely new PC. I just need an upgrade.

A new motherboard, with a new processor. I am keeping the RAM. A new hard disk - 1TB and power supply.

I'll keep everything else.

Cost: I can't afford it, unless some things happen soon.

Wanking

A friend of mine went to a management seminar recently, paid for (in the millions, I presume) by his company.

It was a Spiritual Training thing, or whatever, which uses tenets of religion at the workplace.

Here are some excerpts from the training course:

"The Big Bang is proof that the theory of evolution is a lie! A lie!"

My friend waited for backing facts or statements from the facilitator, but that was that.

And those who WANT TO BELIEVE nodded their heads sagely.

Then, there is this:

"George W Bush is an example of a leader who only uses IQ."

This, in reference to how spirituality, in this case structured religion, can save you. How, if you use religion, then you will be far better than Bush. That bush is, ultimately, an intelligent man who only relies on intellect.

Unfortunately, Bush has always appealed to the religious.

"I believe God wants everyone to be free, and that is part of my uhm, ah, part of my foreign policy," said Bush, in one of his speeches.

And the crowd cheered on.

"I do not know about his politics, but I will vote for him based on his religion," said one American woman, about Bush.

So Bush won, because of faith and belief. Not because of intelligence.

I am not against religion. No, no! That boat sailed off a long time ago. I'm not shitting on anyone's religion - unless it's really, really fun to do so - but I want to point out how there are movements that want us to forego intelligence and replace whatever we use our intellect for, with faith.

Now, intelligence has its roles. So do faith and belief. Never shall the twain meet.

One priest at the Vatican Observatory puts it this way.

Religion started, maybe 5,000 BC. The Bible was written some few hundred years BC to a few hundred years after. Islam was a few hundred years after that. While science, Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, Einstein, Michio Kaku, all started only a few hundred years ago.

How can there be science in scripture? Empirical observation, hypothesis, repeat experiments, etc are all new concepts which did not really exist back then, when today's most popular religions just started being written by man.

Same thing with democracy, which is a new thing. Monarchy, despotism, anarchy all existed for thousands of years and was largely sucessful until democracy - the new kid on the block - was started a few centuries ago.

I find attempts to validate religion through science disturbing. Faith is not scientific. That's why it is called faith. A belief in something you can neither prove, nor disprove.

I mean, I can say, "I believe that the world was created as an ornament on the tree of cosmic awesomeness, by some large aliens that resemble snake sock puppets that can talk. They did it after a night of partying and TP-ing the neighbour's house."

No one can prove me wrong, as much as I can't prove my faith right.

Okay, I'm off to lie down and do some work now. Fuck you.

House of M: Death of the Messiah

When blogging first came into prominence in Malaysia, some media people tried to harness it by putting stock into personalities who exist online.

They believe that by tapping into brands (read: identities) who are popular, they can also ride on their integrity and sell more stuff. Shampoo, perhaps.

Well, that worked beautifully, for about five hours. Well people realised that nothing about any of these Internet personalities make them any more special than you or me - I mean, anyone can start a blog or a website or start posting on FB and Twitter - that was it. The game was up.

Anyone can publish their own thoughts. And what was once an exclusive club for newspaper people and TV moguls and marketing gurus became the common field for everyone.

Everyone can have a blog. Everyone can have a say. Which means something like, in the Marvel or DC Universe, everyone has superpowers.

For centuries, humans have been a tradition of messiahs - cults of personalities. Buddha, Jesus, Muhammad, Churchill, Hitler, Pressley, Kennedy, Bush, Obama, Cullen, Neytiri.

Everything revolved around great men. And very few great women.

At the focus, is the individual. And forever more, the focus will be on the individual. However, the messiah tradition is soon to phase out. It will never die, but it will lose its impact.

Is anyone still as naive to wait for one person to come and save everyone?

Is it like a movie trailer?

In a world, where everyone is going to die, ONE MAN has the answer to immortality.

Does anyone still buy this bullshit?

In a time, when no one knows what will happen after we die, ONE MAN knows. Possessing mental powers all of us do not, he is really cool. And ANGRY!

No great work is ever the work of one man. Or woman. It is always a group.

We are becoming more connected, meaning that the individual will indeed become less and submerged within a collective hive-mind.

I am a fierce individualist. However, my utopia is a world where I do not have to be an individual.

Figures. Personalities. Will all make way to the collective hive mind, buzzing independent thoughts and actions, but functioning and synergising as a complete whole.

We are already well on our way. We buy the same, trendy, clothes. Listen to the same, popular music, watch the same, trendy shows. We connect to other people through a shared experience.

This will all evolve to a collective consciousness that is the sum of all its parts.

After that, we will all transform into Vorlorns and escape this plane of existence.

Tales from the Drunk Side: Anarchy in the Pewkay

I am a great sympathiser to the great anarchy philosophies. None of the anarchy movements, because all anarchy movements get tangled up in the focus of anarchy as actions.

Like throwing Molotov cokctails and smashing windows. That's not anarchy. That's destruction. The greatest form of destruction, the greatest effect, can only be achieved when it is organised.

The oposite of order is not anarchy. It is chaos. Anarchy and chaos are as different as the Sunni and the Shiite are different. Which means very different.

My belief in chaos is the ideal translated as, "without leaders". Not "without order".

This was all captured beautifully in Alan Moore's masterpiece V for Vendetta, which was bastardised by the Wachowski Sisters who did not comprehend what the work was all about, or simply took a different interpretation.

So don't watch the movie. Read the comic book.

In a world without leaders, there is order - voluntary order. Which means that everyone leads their own lives and govern their own actions.

Since it is an ideal, and though ideas are bulletproof, it is not really achievable.

I believe that people can decide for themselves the right amount of smut they want to generate and/or receive. That they are smart enough, individually, to determine what kind of slant or bias they want in their view of the world.

I believe that everyone has an opinion already, and do not really need other people's opinions as a guding light to anything. What people need is simply information. Some demonstrations, perhaps, as to how to view things - more as reminders and examples rather than doctrine.

I do not believe in control, by anything or anyone.

A system focused on leaders would beget politics, and as we have seen, politics and politicians have failed us on numerous times before. We decree and perhaps, surprisingly, agree as a society that politicians are stupid.

Take Bush - pure Spiritual Quotient, and no IQ or EQ. How can someone so fucking dumb in so many areas rise to the top of the world and became the most powerful global leader?

How? Because while he did not appeal to people's intelligence or even emotional maturity - he went after belief. He knows sentiment and how to play most people like a musical instrument.

Bush is an example of how faith and belief can lead to great disaster and cruelty.

The days when we can rely on one person to save us all, or one person to blame for anything and everything, are numbered.

With the scientific and technological advancement we have achieved as a species, every small step, have paved a road for all to have a bigger stake and a more powerful voice in shaping the world around us.

I believe that mankind is now poised, on the brink of eradicating politics and politicians.

For perhaps the first time in history, humans can have more say in what happens around them.

A natural democracy.

This democracy, is being incubated in chatrooms and blogs and Facebook and Twitter and QQ and social networking sites.

They are in SecondLife and WoW and KoL and RO and Maple Story. Sorority Life and Superhero City, Farmville and Restaurant City.

My father's generation had the Second World War. My brother had Vietnam and the sexual, cultural and civil rights movements. WOmen's suffrage.

For my generation, we are the midwives of the techno-spiritual democratic radicalism that could make or break the world. And we're also quite grandiose, and self-important about it.

If your company is not part of this, then it will die. If you are not part of it, watch and be helpless as your world is re-written around you as if you were in The Matrix.

Everyone can now assert reality. WIthin their sphere of influence, anything can be anything.

For years, I experimented with seeding ideas into people's minds and watch them grow. Ideas so ludicrous, but are no longer considered improbable.

I am not a God, merely a snowflake in a giant blizzard.

Self-awareness is peaking. More and more people realise every day that the world is what you make of it. This is the core of most religion, spiritual traditions and quantum physics.

If you believe that the world is bad, then it will be bad for you. If you believe that the world is great, or horny, then so shall it be.

Methods - the all-important hows - will become apparent as times goes by. All we have to care about, most of the time, are the whats and the whys.

I do not know what the final form will look like. I do not know exactly how. Or when, or where. However, I do know that one thing has not changed from the beginning. It is people who will determine how the world is and will be. Only this time, a lot more people will get a say.

Choose your weapons. No, tools.

Mine are information and perception. I have always had a keen sense of information flow. I know perception and opinion like I know the hairs on my ass.

I know where it is heading, whether we are on board or not.

End of the day, like in another Alan Moore masterpiece, Watchmen (also bastardised, but not so), it's all up to you.

I will do my best to make it happen. You do yours.

Intermission: Old Friends and Lighter Things

Met some old friends.

Haven't seen them in a while. Some, by choice. There are some old friends whom I deliberately left alone these past few months.

I was there, around them, at a time when I thought they needed me. As soon as I have outlived my usefulness, or when I think my presence is no longer needed, or if my presence could be detrimental to whatever, I tend to disappear.

Which is kind of stupid. So now, I'm going to go wherever I want to go and be wherever I want to be.

Nowadays, I would only hang out with people who make me feel good or leave me alone. Those who try to do stupid things to me? Well, fuck off and die.

On a lighter note, I finally got the light in this room fixed. For the past six months, I have been typing in the dark. With this new flourescent bulb, I hope to write even more.

I was really angry yesterday. Family stuff. Really, really angry. Oh well. Hopefully, today would be better.

My Monkey forecast for the year of the Metal Tiger is mixed. According to Joey Yap, I'll have to work hard, but asvancement is in sight.

I do not believe in the supernatural, but will probably be accompanying a friend to see a witch-doctor soon. Obladi, oblada.

Mabuk-Mabuk Kepayang: Akulah Syaitan III

Akulah syaitan, tanpa sesalan
Aku dah tulih, memang dah lama
Tapi ada yang tak paham - kesian!
Pergilah mampus, masuk neraka

Puki berdarah, puki berdarah
Tiap-tiap hari pun nak marah-marah
Ko tak penat ke, dekat puki?
Leset pakai cili, hari-hari?

Sapa nak hidup, dalam kesakitan?
Konek dikerat, kelentit dirabit
Apasal tak cari je kain kapan?
Pergi jadi makanan cacing kerawit?

Aku cari kau kemudian
Aku sekarang taknak melayan
Tinggalkan aku sendirian
Tinggalkan aku, seorang syaitan.

Tallow Aquamarine

I am at home, tired and drugged up. Pretty soon, I will be too woozy to write anything.

Mmmh?

Just one more week. And then, I will be back in Kuantan. For the New Year. Forecast is whatever, for me, the Metal Monkey.

I was born, on the hour of the rooster, on the day of the white metal dragon, the month of the rabbit, in the year of the Metal Monkey.

I like being a Monkey. This year, Monkeys are 6, 18, 30, 42, 54, 66, 78 and 90. Maybe a few are 102 years of age.

Oh well.

The Lost Generation

Still at the office. I am listening to Glee. I am waiting for Lost - the FINAL SEASON next week. Oh, nope, a few days from now.

I am going to enjoy this one, man. It is the one series that have failed to fail me after more than what, five seasons?

There are friends who failed me after just a few days, or a few months. Boston Legal never failed me, right to the end. Lost is also doing well.

One day, one of these days, I will do a TV series where I have full creative control. Ah, but that is, if it happens, most probably in the very distant future.

For now, I will concentrate on my stop coughing.

Intermission: Benadryl!

Everything is half finished. I will pick up the slack tomorrow.

I had five sticks of cigarettes today. My body cannot handle five cigarettes anymore. I will have to reduce tomorrow's intake.

I just had some benadryl, meaning I will sleep soon. Very soon. And wake up at 8am to finish everything off.

I notice that with quitting smoking (I haven't fully quit yet), my money does not drain that much. I used to go to the ATM machine, twice, three times a week. Now, one withdrawal can accomodate me for a whole week.

The anger is mostly gone. When it resurfaces, I try other methods to deal with it other than smoking.

The lethargy, though, is harder to combat. I am going for some time off during Chinese New Year, so I hope to recharge then.

I am still very worried about my parents. My father's health is stabilising, but it is not getting better. Oh well. My father has proven everyone wrong before. I believe that if his current track record of confounding the medical community continues, he still has probably 20 years of great health.

On other fronts, I am having fun tackling things I have never done before. To me, work - any kind of work - is a new puzzle to solve.

I am now doing something about Malay culture, which I have resisted for a very long time.

I mean, it is easy to find fault with anyone or anything. Finding what's good about people or a society is not as easy.

I believe that until you can be good to people who would naturally be your enemies, or an embodiment of what you hate, you have not achieved non-resistance with your own prejudices. You still have not accepted the world.

Seeking the goodness in people will bring forth goodness. Seeking faults or things to whine and complain about will only give you flaws and problems.

The spiritual shit I am practicing has done wonders for me. It works for me. Perhaps it will for you. And perhaps not.

All in all, I can't wait to have some rest. Tonight, and also Chinese New Year. I would love to see my Chinese side of the family. They're quite funny people.

My uncles come from a bygone era - the last of their kind.

My grandfather came to Malaysia in 1917 or sometime back then. He was in his teens, having been born sometime near or at the turn of the century.

His name was Fong Ah Man. A very 'Ah Beng' or 'Ah Lian' name, I guess.

He worked as a rubber tapper. A farm hand. It wasn't easy, I think. My family comes from the Guangzhou province. They used to plant fruits. Orchards.

One year, around a decade ago, one of my aunts went to Guangzhou to retrace our lineage. She brought back fruits - lychee and longan and whatever the fuck. She bought them from the Fong clan she found there.

I like to think that one of my ancestors is Fong Sai Yuk. But that could just be the cough medication.

We're Cantonese. Traditionally land owners. Though my cousins and uncles set up car workshops in Kuantan.

Each branch of the family takes one part of the car. There are air-cond specialists, engine workmen, body shop and chop, interior people, etc.

We all love lemang or any form of glutinous rice thing. Very unhealthy. Most of us die at quite old age. Only one uncle passed when he was 55. The rest mostly reach 70 or beyond. My grandfather managed 90++, I think.

He was a huge man. Big hands. Big, Buddha earlobes. White hair. Wrinkly skin. Sad, intelligent eyes.

He kept over 40 dogs at any one point. And 10,000 chickens. Kept bonsai trees. Gave me RM10 in my ang pow every Chinese New Year. His ang pows are always smaller in size, with a matte finish. No glossy paper. There would be pictures of a ship, a junk, almost every year.


Oh well. Am almost passed out from the benadryl overdose. See ya!

Mother! Father! Family!

I am writing something with a collaborator. It's about a family. Basically, my assignment is to write a family I would love to be a part of.

Honestly? I don't have any desire to be part of any family. I mean, I already have one. Why would I want another family?

My family is like a Malaysian version of The Addams' Family. We are morbid, dark, dysfunctional, but it works, somehow.

As a unit, we can be extremely evil. If we can agree to hate anyone, we will destroy that someone. We would spend 30 years having revenge for a long-forgotten slight. The amount of hate that we are capable of, if we get together as an evil council, is the most powerful force I have ever encountered. So thank God we are chronic individualists.

So it has been a challenge. Instead of a family I would like to join, I make it what other people might seem to be attracted to, in a family.

You know, like an all-accepting, non-judgmental whatever the fuck. Yeah, I know. Unrealistic, but hey, this is fiction.

An Early Childhood, Furnished by THEY

When I was a small kid, I was extremely angry.

I walk back home from kindergarten, through a trail amidst some tall grass, and I was filled with righteous indignation.

I was taller and bigger than most kids. Probably because my parents could afford more meat. Better quality food. Part of a Malay family, food is very important.

I love chicken.

My father worked as a teacher. He was never rich. Though I must say, God has blessed him with a green thumb. Anything he grew on his land turned out big and healthy.

We had kangkong he planted, the leaves of which were as big as yams'. Kangkong besar daun keladi. Cucumbers as big as a cow's penis.

Recently, when I started a spice garden for them, the basil grew as high as my waist and the leaves all were as big as daun sireh.

When he started experimenting with rearing chicken, the chicken all grew as big as small dogs.

He had a car, a motorcycle, and a brick house. Back then, a brick house is a luxury few could afford. We had cool marble floors, and complete flush toilets, while most of the other villagers still have outhouses.

It wasn't that my family made a lot of money. It's just that things have a way of working out for us. We were lucky, most of the time. My father is a frugal saver. The effort he put into saving money scared me.

So, I grew up with good food, and I had books. Lots and lots of books. Not mine. All of them from my parents' collection, or stuff Kuantan libraries threw out.

I read Ragtime. Little House on the Prairie. Ian Flemming's The Man with the Golden Gun. Little Women.

I never had any children's books. There were some, actually, but not much. When the Moving Library came to my village, I finally discovered Enid Blyton and the rest. Narnia, translated into Bahasa Malaysia.

There were illustrated books published by DBP.

And late at night, I would take out my father's Gospel of St Luke - a memento from his school days - and read the 'forbidden' bible.

This made me a very strange kid.

While most kids would be out and kill birds and snakes near the swamp, I would be safe at home, pretending to be asleep as my mother and sister tried to teach me how to read the Koran.

I hated kelas mengaji, because there are no stories in the Koran. There is only grammar and proper pronouciation and enuciation and whatever.

The villagers saw me as some sort of a freak, which I guess was justified, somewhat.

I didn't go and learn religious stuff from the PUS motherfucker, due to some dispute he had with my father. My father's a Chinese, genetically, and also a firm BN supporter. So the holiest of holy men in my village condemned him to hell decades ago.

Boo fucking hoo.

So every time I walk back home after kindergarden, some of the people would call me names and such.

They said that since I was fat, I was stupid. That I was a rhinoceros. That since I didn't study how to recite the Koran, I would go to hell. That I was fat because I ate the corrupt money of the BN party.

When I went to primary school, and got top place in my age group every year, they all said that I only got number one because my father was a teacher. That he pulled some BN strings and got me first place. It wasn't because of my hard work.

That last one, is true. I got number one not because of my hard work. The other kids were just so fucking stupid. How can you NOT get first place, when the competition was that bad?

I got 4As in UPSR - the best result you could possibly get - and I got into a boarding school. You know what they said? I got in because my father is a teacher, and he supports UMNO.

I got 8As in my PMR. I got eight aggregates in SPM, aceing six of 10 subjects.

When my father was asked, about how I did, he said, "Amir dapat lapan (Amir got eight)."

The reaction was, "Mujur bukan sembilan (Thank God it wasn't nine!)" Nine, as in F9.

Or, "Anak saya dapat Tiga! (As in, Grade Three, five levels above eight, I guess)"

I got into UM. (UMNO! UMNO!)

After I graduated (a decent 3.21 CGPA. No fireworks there) I got a job, but I was not a doctor, lawyer or engineer.

What a failure.

And then, in 2006, I was out of a job. I started my own company and did freelance.

When they come to the house, they asked, "What are you doing Amir? Still at the newspaper?"

My mother would make up excuses for me, but I would just stare them straight in the eye and say, "Saya menganggur. (I'm jobless)"

Some were perplexed that I didn't try to hide my shame. That perhaps, I was shameless? That I did not care what they think?

I mean, I worked for every single thing I got, dedicated myself at every opportunity, and all these years, all they ever did was try to discredit me and take me down so that they could feel better about themselves?

A background chorus, singing hate and despair and failure. A bunch of people underneath my trapeze act, with fucking spears to impale me.

The fuck should I care?

What have you ever done for me? Except waste my air.

And yet, if some of the projects I have in line happens, some of these spiteful idiots would be the beneficiaries.

I don't mind. Even maggots have a function. If we focus too much on the naysayers, the jealousy of insecure people who NEED you to acknowledge how great they are as compared to little pathetic you, the slaves of the ego, then I wouldn't get any work done.

Which reminds me. I have work to do. Cheers!

Eywa Has Heard You!

My heart, and my cup is full.

Maybe it's the feeling of one with the universe, or maybe it's the overdose of benadryl I just had. I love benadryl.

I smoked five cigarettes. My parents are okay. They're old, so they're sick. It happens. My father was suppoed to get a medal from the Sultan of Pahang this year, but he is sick, so he will not make the journey to the palace.

A friend came to visit me, with his entire family, and decided to treat me to dinner at a mid-range cafe.

It was nothing much, but for people like my friend, who makes around 2K, has a family to take care of, a house to build, a car he just bought, etc, there were better things to do with his scant resources than spend RM100 on me.

I almost felt guilty. But I guess he was doing it as much for himself as he was for me.

I watched Avatar five times. On three of those times, I was almost moved to tears on one scene.

When Neytiri raises her arms and cries out, "Eywa has heard you!"

I am from the school of thought that if I did things right, no one would ever know I did anything at all.

I apply that to most things in life. It is extremely hard to explain to idiots and people who believe in garish prancing around, yelling and screaming like little children about the very small things they do. Trying to make it bigger.

My craft, if I do it right, is an invisible one.

So, when Neytiri raises her right arm and her bow, crying out, "Eywa has heard you!"

That was appreciation from GOD. Divine applause. Approval. And though I have made peace with the fact that approval means nothing, it is nice to have that once in a while.

To anyone getting honoured today, I wish that Eywa has heard you. And continues to.