Red is the Colour of Fish

Today was the launch of KL Noir: Red. I have a story in this compilation and there are how many? Belas-belas writers in it as well.

I was extremely tired, having spent the entire day at Holiday Villa Subang for the 3rd and final Anugerah Bintang Popular BH Press conference. Also, I am going to Kedah this weekend, for the ABPBH road tour.

But I managed to get to KLCC on time anyway, being very lucky at the LRT station to not miss a train and finding seats.

So anyway, it was a grand launch at Kinokuniya with trumpeting elephants and Katy Perry doing somersaults - without wearing knickers.

Oh, yes, I will be editing KL Noir: White - the second edition of this book, due very soon(hahaha!). Met one of the writers and started the editor's push already.

Another writer asked about his story and I had no idea what story it was. Later, he messaged me and asked about the story.

I was on my bed, ready to sleep, but I thought, okay, let's read this story.

I read it, and a few comic books came to mind. There's Hell and Back - a Sin City story, and The Sandman Comics' Preludes and Nocturnes. Not in similarity, but how it can be improved using techniques demonstrated so well in those things.

I was half-asleep, when I had a brainstorm - a torrent of ideas I cannot ignore. So here I am, munching on oats and very much awake for no reason.

People do things for different reasons - for money, to be loved, for the adulation, to be feared, to find a place, to increase their egos, to get attention, blah blah blah.

I can tell you that one of the main drives for writing - to me - are moments like these when you can see what should be done, how it can be done and also that it will be done.

And now I'm wanking like nobody's business.

KL Noir: Canta per me

Tomorrow, we - Fixi Novo and a bunch of friends - will be launching KL Noir - an anthology of dark stories  set in KL.

The event is at Kinokuniya KLCC, 8pm. Open for all.

I have one story in there - The Unbeliever - but what I treasure more are stories around this piece and the formation of KL Noir, from my perspective.

A few months ago, I was depressed and was whining about it. A lot. I'm a chronic whiner, and I take my rants wherever I could, for as far and as long as I can. I was fulfilling, I have no doubt, some sort of perverse psychological need.

I had, by that time, given up again on writing. I was going to be a corporate figure, and that was that. I was going to grow up and leave my Toys'RUs dreams behind. I was going to sever my childhood enthusiasm and replace it with boardroom cunning so potent, it would propel me to become a hybrid killer whale-squid in the corporate world. I was going to focus and apply myself as well as my gigantic brain to kill everyone.

Actually, it wasn't anywhere near that dramatic, but I'm channeling what went through my head at the time, and I was being very dramatic. Dramatic people always need an audience.

So I dragged everyone milly, nilly, vanilly. Wait, how does that phrase turn? Whatever. So I found myself with Amir Muhammad and Saifullizan 'Kasino' Tahir at a cafe somewhere, apologising again to Amir that my Buku Fixi novels Cintan and Lompat are nowhere near completion, when Amir said, "Hey, I'm doing this thing called KL Noir."

He explained it to me and the idea of publishing another short story had appealed to me.

"But I am compiling everything in one week," said Amir.

"No worries! I got some short stories and half-finished chapters I've been saving in my hard drive since I was 19 years old."

Which is true.

I have, off the top of my head, outlines for several movies, breakdowns for six seasons of an animated epic, thoughts on 20 TV series, random chapters of books and quite a few unfinished or unpolished short stories somewhere in my hard drive. A lot of them written before I was 20.

These ideas survived five PCs, several hard disk crashes and everything else life has thrown me.

So I took one of them, a clumsy homage to HP Lovecraft when I was in my "I'm not reading anything other than academic journals and literary classics" phase. I remember at the time, I was in UM, fending off advances from PIS-M people who mistook me for the King of the Nerds.

One of the journals I read outlined peculiar similarities between Druidic or Irish mythology - kelpie, mermaids, etc - with Indonesian idol worship.

Now, I knew HP Lovecraft was said to have drawn inspiration from Druidic beliefs to form his Ctulhu mythos, and I was - and still am - a fan of Lovecraft. So I thought, and this was me at 19 or 20 or so, "Maybe those creatures from HP Lovecraft's world can exist here as well, in Malaysia."

So I set about and wrote a tale originally titled Lovecraft in Lembah Kelang. I liked the title so much that I abandoned the story altogether to find another tale more suited to the title, and that one is an homage to Neon Genesis Evangelion and Dashiell Hammet, but that's another story, for another book - a novel perhaps.

So I dusted the story, gave it a polish, and gave it an ending. I must say, the 19-year-old me is a much better writer and storyteller. I have grown to be filled with more baggage and politics I care to admit, I'm afraid. The younger me was so much more filled with raw story.

But the story was done, all 17,000 words of it, and I sent it to Amir, and then set about to rediscover my industry as well as my spirit as a writer of fictional work.

So yes, that story in KL Noir re-ignited some of my passion, which I will take to Thailand in a few months' time.

Looking at the lineup, I would say The Unbeliever is NOT the best story in the book, but it is important to me as I am back on track to push forward my creative shit down the throat of the world.

SO:

When: Wednesday, February 27, 2013 

Time: 8:00pm until 9:15pm. 

Venue: Kinokuniya, KLCC. 

(Copied from Shaz Johar's blog, which came with it these tan highlights he contracted from somewhere and which I am too lazy to remove)

I will be late tomorrow, as I have an event to do in the day, but I will try to be as timely as possible.

E!

I just bought, over the weekend, a couple of e-cigarettes. This is my second purchase of such a thing, after damaging the first one at the gym.

And yes, I have read of all the problems with e-cigarettes and am willing to risk it over normal cigarettes. Let that debate rage on between other people, at other sites. I'm not interested.

After two full days of using it, or is it a full 24 hours ++, I can safely say I can get used to it. My three-pack a day smoking habit is costing me over RM1,000 a month and I can't afford that lifestyle anymore. Even if I could, I am tired of going for scaling every six months to grind the tar stains from my teeth.

Talking about scaling, I am finally going for bridging in March. Need to cover this tooth I lost due to extreme brushing. Yes, I broke it due to brushing too hard.

I also need to go for another, separate medical check-up. I'm getting older and my body doesn't work as it used to. Once upon a time, I could shake the flu out of my system within hours. I could stay up longer, with a record 72++ hours without sleep.

Knowing my family's medical history, I do need to take better care of myself. I am never afraid of death, but a life hooked up to meds and machines is not the way I want to go. The men in my father's family have long lives.

My grandfather died when he was over 90. My uncles live to very ripe old ages and encounter whatever they encounter in terms of illnesses when they reach a certain number on their birthdays.

Last year was bad, as all my uncles suffered from some form of ailments or another.

On my mother's side, we have people who die suddenly and an affliction of diabetes as well as heart disease.  Strokes are common in my family, but they all survive it.

Anyway, one thing I've noticed with e-cigarettes is that men often treat it as some sort of surrogate car or something. Men are obsessed with getting the absolute best machine for the best price. Which is fine, I suppose. But they also turn it into a culture of sorts.

I do not know the benefits of doing so and do not wish to find out why. I take their information, gladly, and use it to finally reduce my smoking.

One day, I will have to quit, or the cigarettes will quit me. I tend to overdo things and there's no way I will smoke only one pack a day.

The men whom I consulted (5 in total ) looked at my tab and said I would save X amount every month, as if I'm making money from smoking e-cigs. This is faulty thinking. I don't make money from smoking e-cigs, I just cut the cost down.

Cutting costs does not improve existing revenue streams or create new ones. It just means I don't spend so much as I did before.

There are so many ways to cook the books so as to give the illusion of a better financial situation, but I am financially conservative.

Oh well. We shall see if this has any adverse effects on my writing. That is something I am not ready to give up.

The Malay Male's Stigmata

"Don't get me wrong," she said. "I'm not a sexist or a racist or anything."

Oh, boy. Here we go. Disclaimers. The justification for being exactly what they disclaim to be.

"But Malay men are monkeys. They're stupid, rude and emotional and stupid. Did I mention stupid?"

"Yeah, you have a point," I said, flicking my lighter.

"Not all of them," she began. "Wait, what?"

"I said you have a point."

"Oh, okay."

And then she joined the crowd of elderly men trying to pick her up. She stole a few glances my way and despite having excellent peripheral vision, I made like George W Bush and didn't give a fuck.

Towards the end of the night, I found her sitting beside me again.

"Did I offend you?"

"With what?"

"My statement. It was just an observation. An opinion."

"Yes, I know. And I agree. We Malay men are collectively dumb and stupid. If we were smart, you'd all be our sex-slaves and normal slaves."

"You don't find it racially insensitive?"

"Look," I swiveled on the chair, even though it wasn't the swiveling type. "There's no such word as 'racial'. I know the dictionary has it, but the word you're looking for is either racist or race. Not racial. Fuck racial."

I began getting on my pulpit and lecturing her about 'racial'.

I've always hated the word racial. It's used for racist things when people want to show how they're not racist. Racial politics is just racist politics. 'He is a racialist?' it's actually 'He is a racist'. Fuck racial, racial makes racists sound like Jennifer Aniston.

"Haha. You're funny."

"I know."

"But is my statement offensive?"

"Was your statement offensive? I don't know. I don't care."

When I first got to KL, the white-worshipping culture of the KLITes have already condemned Malay men as  animals and rogues. Egotistical buffoons who have brains the size of monkey penises.

I am now much too old to try and change people's mindsets or to even care. Unless there's money involved.

"It's a sweeping generalisation, so I'm sorry for that."

"No need for apologies," I said, fingering the receipt and figuring whether I could deduct drinks from my taxes. Don't think I can.

"You're weird," she said.

"Sure I am."

She said the same thing the next morning, and my answer never changed.

How to Identify Ladyboys

I'm not about to fill my website with pictures of ladyboys, so here's one:

If you want more, just Google 'Ladyboys' or go to Missladyboys.com, where I took that picture.

Whenever I come back from Thailand with tales of my derring-do, some jealous, insecure men would say to me, "You sure you didn't fuck a man? Huh? A MANNN? MANNN!"

And then they start talking about their dicks. No homo there, you fucking faggots!

Thing is, I have always had a knack for identifying ladyboys, or as they are known in Thailand, 'kathoeys'. Actually, anyone who is not a traditional man or woman is a kathoey - the third gender. Thais are socially far more advanced than the rest of the world by 543 years, as reflected by their individual calendar system, which puts this year as 2556 or something. If you nail anyone in Thailand this year, make sure she was born in the year 2538, or the Interpol's gonna come and get you.

Anyway, let me share some basic and advanced skills in identifying ladyboys with you idiots, and why it now requires expert skills to do so.

See, when I describe ladyboys, most idiots would picture this:

No, that's Nicki Minaj, you idiot. She's a real woman. A real woman made up of spare-part ethnic Barbie doll parts, in an accident with a '90s chemical factory.

Ladyboys have evolved over the years, but some lack the funds for a full gender-bending illusion. Here are some basic detection methods:

1. Ladyboys are generally taller than normal girls.

Human genetics decree men are taller than women. Advantages and disadvantages in that, bla bla bla. So if this 'girl' is taller than you, strike one. Then again, if you're a short motherfucker with a napoleon complex, go and kill yourself right now.

However, some ladyboys are petite and small. So, this is not reliable for even most cases.

2. The width of the shoulders vs hips ratio

Women have wider hips than men. This is how Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown identified the gender of corpses in the first few seasons of CSI. Genetics, bro! Pelvic bone is wide and stuff.

So whenever I see 'girls' with wide shoulders - usually wider than their hips -  I go 'strike two!'

However, there are some painful operations available to cut down the width of the shoulders. They shave off some of the bone, to give a more feminine profile. So, again, this is not 100%.

3. Ladyboys tend to look the same

For some reason, most ladyboys have an almost similar idea of what a hot woman looks like. They believe a hot woman looks like this:

Scary, right? But yes, a lot of ladyboys look like Lindsay Lohan. Or maybe, Lindsay Lohan thinks of herself as a ladyboy and has gone to the same surgeons.

The same, stupid lips, the same, mass-produced cheekbones and the tell-tale 'ladyboy chin' are often clear indicators. See these things, RUN! Cause it's either a ladyboy or a very ugly woman, or Lindsay Lohan herself. In any case, you better run, bitch!

Great plastic surgeons are artisans who sometimes don't go for marble-like perfection. They understand the unique flaws and blemishes that make people individuals. Most plastic surgeons are not the greatest, and some are downright lazy, maybe cutting a package deal for a bullshit Lindsay Lohan face.

4. Vocal cues

Most ladyboys still sound like men. This is also a clear giveaway, but there are procedures available to tune the vocal chords to higher pitches. Still, the operation is expensive and risky. Most still sound like you, so if they do, runnn(if you want to).

5. Exaggerated movements

Ladyboys have an idea of how women are, and they often clumsily try to act out this ideal usually to abject failure.

They might look nice in pictures, but as soon as they move in real life, the gig is up! It's all exaggerated, over the top and way too much. They lack the relaxed subtlety.

In order for a man to pass off as a woman, you need to have the grace of the world's best actors like John Lithgow.

However, some ladyboys have this talent. This is achieved through spiritual breakthroughs and meditation to get them into the proper mindset.

So after all this, is it still impossible to tell a few fantastic ladyboys from real women?

Well, I am about to reveal to you my greatest technique:

6. Expert Technique: Energy Projection

Everyone projects energy. Negative and positive are merely the charges, the alignment of these energies. There are also many, many subtle nuances and differences. If you manage to understand the energy flow, you can connect, evaluate and empathise with anyone.

You can identify the energies projected by people, their AT(Absolute Terror) Fields, their egos, etc, and you can identify men, women, ladyboys, pain-worshippers, liars, con-men, heroes, angels and demons.

This is the ultimate technique I employ to determine who and what people are, including ladyboys.

However, I must say that I don't care. I'm not gay, queer, or whatever. I'm a hetero-sexual, and I believe that people are just people. Putting too much value in a person's gender is - to me - sexist and wasting time. I don't want to fuck everyone, and neither would any of you.

If a ladyboy connects with you (konek. hihihi), then maybe you have found your soulmate or whatever. Go for it, bro!

Me? I;m shallow. I only like hot chicks.

I Would Like to Thank the Academy

I have often written about the darkness of man - the idiots and monkeys who pepper my life's landscape. But I must say that I could not have survived this far without the help of many who genuinely helped me along the way.

I am the most arrogant man on earth, but I am far from delusional like the monkeys and idiots.

When people help you out - genuine help - they want nothing in return, not even proper thanks. There are no agenda, hidden or obvious.

I have met millionaires and billionaires who have helped me out, spent time with me and stuff, without having any particular use for me. There's no practical reason for them to extend a hand or show me the right direction.

I believe these people like helping other people. Those who do offer assistance are often those in a state of abundance. They are in a positive situation, and therefore, they extend their happiness and positivity easily to others.

There are also people who are so fucked up in their lives, and yet offer their help genuinely. I am often humbled when some of my neighbours helped out my family even though their shitty lives and existence would warrant them free reign to be selfish and bitter.

I have experienced people who made RM400 a month with 8 people in their household, do extreme chores for my land without asking for pay. Even when offered, some have refused payment, prompting me to go to town and buy groceries for them, as their religion forbids them from wasting food and resources, if offered.

In my career so far, I would not have been able to do what I have done, without the kind assistance, guidance and sometimes interference from some people. I am blessed to have angels and demons watching over me, sometimes. I am not gloating - merely grateful.

For example, recently I have been contacted by some headhunters who offered me jobs based on recommendations of other people. I have my own path set for now, so I extended the favour by introducing other candidates to the headhunters as I am not pursuing that path. When others show you kindness, it is the least you could do to pay it forward.

There have also been those who helped me in less subtle ways. Those who came forward in my hour of need, and my hours of being needy, and would disappear as soon as I get my strength or confidence back. There were also those who share their insights and ideas so freely, and I always appreciate them.

Recently, I gave some of my best ideas to some people. A few of my friends questioned my actions, asking why I should share my ideas with other people?

"Let them die," they said.

Well, first off, their life and death are not mine to decide. It is entirely theirs.

Secondly, I have more than enough great ideas to last me more than a lifetime. There is not enough time for me to execute everything I could think off, beyond several decades or even centuries. I have more than enough, so I share it with others.

Thirdly, I share ideas because I believe ideas should be shared. I believe that we need to do this in order to make the world a better place. I have gleaned so much information from people, websites and books that share ideas freely. Ideas are infinite, it's the execution that will determine everything.

Ideas are my gift. My curse, though, is that no one ever listens to me. It is sometimes frustrating because I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century, but only sometimes. I keep a lookout for my own desires to change the world and to change people, because that road only ends in despair.

And finally, no matter how many great or good ideas there are, the condition of the world is entirely dependent on the small choices people make every day. I hope it is mainly positive.

I do believe in maintaining a positive outlook on life, without being delusional about it. The easiest person you can lie to is yourself, and I do have a support structure that keeps me honest. I have not and will not lie, because the sanctity of information channels is the lifeblood of what I do and what I love.

So how do I end this? Maybe with a cryptic poem by Neil Gaiman:

Flowers gathered in the morning
Afternoon they blossom on
Still are withered in the evening
You can be me when I am gone

There. It means nothing now, but it will be everything very soon.

Intermission: Cross Rhodes

It's the middle of the week. I'm taking a break from my night writings to just do nothing and watch wrestling. I feel like taking a break and I can't wait for April or May when I will go to Thailand again in my pilgrimage for rest and relaxation.

I love watching professional wrestling. It's about storytelling, marketing and the best goddamn media class you can find anywhere. Bar none.

It's also about spirit. The stories they tell are ones of heroic triumph and the evil of despair. To me, professional wrestling is physical theater.

All my life, I have set rules for myself. I hold myself up to it, and I hold others up to it as well. It is the one unreasonable thing I allow myself. Aside from the smoking and the sex and the rock and roll.

I have ideas on doing a stand up about relationships. I think I'll complete my novels and as a promo thing, I'll do stand up. I'm not very good at it, but I think I'll do it because I want to.

The 13th General Election is coming. A lot of political and corporate people are pissing their pants. I can smell their fear. This is one time when you can make fun of politicians and they will not retaliate because they have to kiss your asses. All our asses.

I'm not scared at all. I have always maintained my neutrality. I think both BN and PR are fucked up and I am not about to die fighting other people's battles. Whichever way the election goes, I'll be fine. Bring Najib, bring Lee Kuan Yin, LGE, LTE, Anwar 'Anus' Ibrahim, Beruk Mat Sabu or whoever the fuck. I don't give a fuck.

Big changes are coming in my life. I am going on a diet-exercise regime to lose 20kg this year. I also aim to finish my creative projects and maybe do a couple of movies and a few TV series this year.

I have also found a way to make movies creatively, to tell my own stories. These projects will not be for money, as I have other stuff I do for money.

I never fell. Know that when others did, I held on to that last inch. Just like the great comics writers preached.

I look at my life and what I have done, and I have not changed at all. I'm still that 8 year old kid growing up in the swamps who think he knows better. I DO know better, so fuck you.

My brother has been telling his friends that we didn't grow in a swamp. Our house is on a hill. Yeah, but around the hill is swamp land. The area is called Paya Besar, which means Big Swamp. Sure smells like a swamp. Not a fucking mangrove swamp, sure, but it's wet and it's muddy.

One day, I will return to the swamp. I just have a few things I need to take care of. I don't know how long it will take, but eventually, I will be back there and I will write more stuff.

Writing is the only thing I would ever want to do until I die.

Mostly Not About You

In my travels, I have seen shit.

Not all the shit, but large piles of steaming bullshit. The all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. These stupid piles of shit constantly fling their shit at me, and I've always wondered why?

Why do girls try to manipulate me with their clumsy. stupid ways? Why do men try to manipulate me with their monkey ways?

It's not the manipulation part, I just consider it an insult because anyone who tries to pull shit on me is showing that they believe they are superior than me, when I am the Greatest Mind of the 21st Century.

Am I saying everyone else is stupider than me? Yes.

Time and again, I have demonstrated that I am right. And I do not need people to tell me I am right - I KNOW I am right. I am so right, even my left hand is my right hand.

All these inferior monkeys who just learned to walk upright are, to me, an insult to my view. A stain on the great wall.

All those whose IQs are 130 and below would consider what I am saying an insult due to their stupid insecurities.

Yet these monkeys consistently throw their shit at me because they know, deep in their hearts, that I am the future of mankind, and if they manage to trick me, they are smarter than me. BUT. I know. I have always known. That's just a fact.

And yet, after using my great and brilliant mind for 5 minutes as I took a dump in the toilet just now, I realised that it is not about me. People who treat other people like shit actually live in a shitty world, peopled by shitty characters and shitty circumstances.

So, 60% of the time, it's not about me, it's about them. It's about how sorry, stupid and retarded their lives and their selves are.

Realising this, afforded me no pity on these monkeys. I just feel nothing. I thought I'd just share it with you idiots to show off how smart I am. This thought, by the way, is just a flash in my head. You wouldn't be able to comprehend what I think if I sat, silently, for 10 minutes. Because you, in comparison, have the mind of a retarded ant.

I thank God that despite my super-intelligence giving me depression on some occasion - as it is wont to do -  I am infinitely superior to these monkeys. You see, the saddest thing about these apes is the fact that their capacity for experiencing happiness or even making sense of their world to be extremely limited.

Forevermore, they will be trapped in a fake, superficial existence that means nothing.

Flying Fuck

I am quite happy today.

Nothing to do with one of the movies I wrote getting nominated at FFM for Best Screenplay. I don't get screenwriting credit, just scriptwriting credit because here in Malaysia, directors usually take the credit for screenplay. I don't care, really, because I didn't do it for the awards.

Each of my my work have been nominated and won several awards on several different things. I am glad the team got the recognition, because they worked hard for it. MySpy - I believe to be the film I am most fond of - won Best Comedy. Magika won Best Film. Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa won something - Best Film as well, was it? I can't remember.

If I want to win an award, I want it to be completely mine. My story, my creative vision, with no interference whatsoever from any studio or anyone. But I'm not in a hurry. I have never done any of these movies or stuff to win any award.

I find the motivation for doing something to be very important. Some people do these things - they write, to get accolades, to be respected, to be feared or to be loved. Some, even worse, do it for freebies. I have seen talented people throw away everything for a free mug, a free t-shirt or some other bullshit.

For the record, my mother just bought RM1 t-shirts, so if your worth is RM1, then go ahead and go fuck yourself.

I do things, because I want to do things. Anything I don't want to do, never gets done. I write because I want to write. If I wanted to dance, I'd dance. If I wanted to fuck, I'd fuck. This, to me, is the real meaning of freedom, and I would fight tooth and nail for it.

Which brings me back to being happy today. I am unhappy if I am not doing what I want to do or not on the path to do what I want to do. As long as I am on my way to my dreams, my goals, I am easily pleased.

All the pieces I have carefully arranged in the past few years are finally beginning to look like they are in place. My plan - Batman always has a plan - is shaping up.

I never knew how I would get to what I want or what I would have to do or rather, choose to do. The goal has never been a mystery - the journey always is.

And if I fall? Well. Lucifer fell. I would rather look back at a life well-lived than cower in the shadows of fear. I am many things, and I have done many things, some good, some bad, but a cowardly liar has never been one of them. I'm not about to start now.

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I know what I will. I will bring it.

So suck my dick and call me a bitch. Take your cheap-ass pretentious fake useless selves and shove it up your stupid monkey asses. I don't give a flying fuck.

Cutting a Shoot Promo

What you gonna do when the shit hits the fan? Are you gonna stand and fight like a man? - Eminem

There is a time when you take all those cheesy lessons you learned from Japanese anime, all those things you learned from dumbass Hallmark TV shows and telemovies. When you discard phrases like 'being smart about it' or 'just surviving' to the gutters and holes from which they came.

There is a time to be a man and there was a time, long ago, that 'being a man' does not simply mean taking your dick in your hand and whipping your defenseless wife or girlfriend  with it.

I am many things, but I have never been a liar. Liars find this hard to believe, because they cannot imagine a life - everyday life - without a few lies thrown about to ease their passing. Lies are fibre that helps the pile of shit - their stupid, cowardly selves - to pass along the colon that is life.

One day, you draw a line in the sands and you stand by it and you say, "this is where I stand, and I'm not budging an inch. So fuck you."

So. After this Chinese New Year of the Snake, I will be performing at Merdekarya. It's a thing called "Saya Selaku Perdana Menteri".

Four Horsemen (Three Horsemen and One Horsewomen) of the Apocalypse will stand before an audience and deliver our speeches as Prime Minister of Malaysia.

Yes, I am one of those who will be Prime Minister for one night.

All our speeches will be in Bahasa Malaysia, because all Malaysian Prime Ministers must be Malay or have a command of the language. I hope the Special Branch of the police will be there and pay the RM20 fee at the door.

Yeah, you have to pay to listen to us talk. No freebies will be given. There are drinks on sale, as well as classic Malaysian snacks such as Mamee and possibly Twisties. Or at least that is what I heard. You fuckers can't sue me if there are none.

What will we talk about, I wonder? I can't speak for the rest, and if they get arrested for saying something they shouldn't, or if they suck, I dis-involve myself with them and the things they say. I, however, will stand by what I myself say. Every single word of it. The others are also not responsible for what I say, as the owner of Merdekarya have also not been given any drafts or a clue as to what will be performed.

In fact, I have given clues already in this article about the topic of my inaugural speech. I will most probably wing it. And if I get into trouble, it will be well worth it.


I can't find an UMNO baju melayu, so I'll use mine instead.

Giving Thanks and Robbing Politicians

Sometimes, we focus too much on the party politics of Malaysia, with its monkey-like politicians and  equally simian supporters that we forget this - the system is there to serve the benefits of us all.

The system of governance, whatever system it may be, was not put in place to benefit the few opportunists, but to take care of the welfare of all of us. Failing that, it should take care of the many, at the expense of the few. Whatever. Point is, the Government is there for our benefit.

There is no question of thanking any Government. The money - resources, cash, funds - did not come from the Government. It came from our lands - minerals, commerce, industry. I find the notion that anyone having to thank any Government as appalling and lewd.

I believe it is an ego thing, when people want us to thank them for our life and our livelihood

And yet, there is gratitude in order. We should thank the Government, congratulate it, on a job well done whenever they do it well - and their job is to provide a better living through sound management of whatever resources we have at hand.

I do not thank the BN Government for giving me money. The money comes from the land and its people. I thank them for not running us to the ground (yet) and for managing our assets more or less okay for the past 55 years.

However, I must say that there is room for improvement. I leave that to the whiners and moaners as well as the ineffective Opposition.

A friend of mine suggested that in order to 'teach' Governments, as we would a dog, we should elect a new one every four years. The effect would be catastrophic. Political instability will almost surely jeopardize any project which takes more than four years to complete. Thousands of companies will go out of business. Tens of thousands of people will be bankrupted and the general quality of living will go down tremendously.

"This would be bitter medicine," said my friend. "But it will perhaps result in a Government that can be held accountable for their actions. A Government that would scurry to the questions of the public. An honest Government that has its masters' - the people's - interest at heart, for fear of the almighty punishment at the polls."

I think of putting the country into chaos, and my greatest worry - though I agree with having a fully accountable Government - are the opportunists salivating at breaking companies such as Petronas up and drinking all the oil - one of the ONLY things that are keeping us afloat.

I worry that the opportunists waiting in the wings will use the chaos as cover for the greatest heist, the greatest robbery in the history of this country.

Sure, the country is being bled dry by some unscrupulous people who take advantage of the system - as they do in the States. But leaving ourselves open for a hemorrhage of that magnitude is suicide.

I believe that what this country needs is a better villain. An Opposition that is not petty or stupid, or made up of liars and cheats. We would do well if the 'alternative' is actually different than the mainstream.

I see no difference in politicians of both divide. They are all selfish liars who do not fight for me or you.

It is my personal belief that we should go ahead and do what is good and necessary for our society, our people and our country. And if any politician were to tell us no, we should go to his or her house and rob them of every corrupted cent they have siphoned off this land and distribute it to the poor.

Yahiya Chouhada!

Tinju Maut Dunia Paus

Masa aku mula-mula datang KL, aku jumpa ramai penulis Melayu yang lebih omputih daripada omputih.

Bukan saja daripada segi bahasa, tapi daripada segi kandungan, pemikiran dan lain-lain.

Aku duk baca dan perhati apa yang diorang tulis. Aku fikir, itu bukan jalan yang aku nak lalu. Pasal apa? Pasal kalau ko nak menulis macam omputih, pasal omputih, dengan watak-watak omputih, bertempat di negara omputih, buat apa omputih nak baca cerita kau? Baik omputih baca penulis omputih.

Robert J Sawyer ialah seorang penulis sains fiksyen omputih. Dia orang Kanada. Dia antara penulis sains fiksyen tersohor di dunia, tapi dia bermula di Kanada.

Aku baca banyak temuramah dengan dia, sebab aku suka dua buku dia - The Terminal Experiment dan Calculating God. Dia cakap, dia jadi masyhur sebab 'positioning'.

"Zaman aku mula-mula start dulu," kata Robert J Sawyer dalam Bahasa Malaysia, kat Mahbub, "Semua penulis Kanada berhijrah ke US, sebab US best, US ramai penulis sci-fi. Apalah yang ada kat Kanada ni.

"Jadi yang tinggal kat Kanada, cuma dalam 4-5 penulis sci-fi. Jadi, bila ada majalah atau apa-apa rancangan pasal sci-fi Kanada, mereka akan panggil aku atau yang 4 ekor lagi ni. Atau semua sekali, dan aku mesti ada."

Robert mendirikan monopoli secara tak sengaja dengan menjadi antara beberapa kerat penulis sci-fi di Kanada. Akhirnya, buku-buku karyanya menjadi kemestian penggemar dan pengumpul sci-fi. Mana ada koleksi sci-fi yang lengkap kalau tak ada buku sci-fi penulis Kanada, ataupun komik opera angkasa lepas Eropah seperti Metabarons, Technopriest dan The Incal.

Jadi aku rasa tindakan penulis-penulis berbakat dalam Bahasa Inggeris yang mahu melabelkan diri sendiri sebagai lebih omputih daripada omputih, sebagai keputusan yang agak canggung.

Aku sendiri, aku tak pernah terfikir untuk menulis kisah cinta di New York, pasal aku tak pernah pergi New York - malah, aku tak pernah menjejakkan kaki ke luar Asia Tenggara. Semua percutian aku ke Thailand yang bagi aku jauh lebih eksotik daripada New York, London atau Paris.

Kalau aku menulis pasal watak MaryJane berjumpa Donald McDonald di New York, mesti tak realistik. Kalau aku bercuti setahun pun kat sana, aku yakin aku takkan dapat menangkap intipati pemikiran dan pandangan unik orang New York.

Aku cuma tahu pasal aku, sebab 90% masa setiap hari aku luangkan untuk fikir pasal diri sendiri dan 10% pasal seks.

Tapi, tiada paksaan dalam penulisan, mahupun Islam. Aku rasa semua penulis patut tulis apa dia nak tulis, kemudian habiskan penulisan mereka. Siapkan semuanya.

Dengan kata-kata itu, aku pun nak habiskan ada cerpen buat pengeluar pengisian sektor telekomunikasi ni. Aku dah jumpa lubang untuk menjual penulisan aku bukan hanya melalui buku, dan filem, tetapi juga teknologi maklumat.

Doakan aku kaya, pasal aku tak pasti berapa banyak aku boleh jana pendapatan daripada usaha dan platform yang ini.

Seribu Pedang Pulang Ke Asal

Aku pergi Pesta Buku 1Malaysia hari ni dan terjumpa sesuatu yang aku dah lupa. Aku juga terjumpa lelaki Perancis kacak yangsenang menjadi pujaan ramai wanita dan lelaki berhati wanita.

Pagi tadi aku bangun pukul 8 pagi, cepat-cepat aku siapkan kerja tertunggak pasal aku ingat nak siapkan bila aku balik nanti. Sedar tak sedar, kerja aku dah nak siap, jadi aku habiskan saja sebelum tidur sejam.

Aku bangun tidur pukul 1 tengahari, lepas tu terus mandi dan sampai di PWTC pukul 2pm. Aku janji dengan Amir Muhammad nak jumpa kat booth Buku Fixi pukul 2pm, tapi aku tersinggah kat kawasan jualan buku kat bawah. Gila murah, buku-buku yang tak laku, dan jugak agak sedih.

Aku beli buku pasal karya Neil Gaiman, RM10 je. Aku cuma nak tahu kalau ada apa-apa yang aku terlepas pandang pasal penulisan Neil Gaiman. Aku setiap tahun akan baca Sandman sekurang-kurangnya sekali dan aku dah baca dua tesis Masters pasal karya Neil Gaiman dan Alan Moore. Tapi memang biasa ada benda yang kita senang lupa, jadi buku itu amat membantu aku dan aku secara tak sengaja dah baca 40 mukasurat sambil duduk-duduk kosong.

Kesedihan aku tengok buku tak laku yang dijual dengan harga rendah oleh penerbit terhapus sebaik aku naik ke tingkat terletaknya booth-booth penerbit buku.

Ada Buku Fizi, Lejen Press, Dubook Press, PTS, Penulisan2u (penerbit paling berjaya pada era ini), Telaga Biru dan yang lain.

Aku pergi booth Buku Fixi yang JV dengan Lejen Press. Nak nengok awek, semua awek tudung. JilbabTwepz mesti suka, kalau dia datang.

Ya, SEMUA awek tudung, dalam erti kata lain, RAMAI GILA awek tudung pergi beli buku-buku novel ni semua. Pertama kali aku tengok buku-buku, bak kata mat salleh, 'flying off the shelves' kat semua booth.

Yang lelaki, datang, belek-belek, pastu blah. Kebanyakannya la. Ramai jugak beli.

Aku bimbang gak, kalau orang lelaki semua tak baca buku, nanti semua jadi beruk. Eh, okaylah tu. Kalau semua beruk, aku sorang manusia, semua perempuan, tak kira bertudung atau bogel sambil kepit tiang krom, akan datang pada aku. Aku akan kaya kemaluan perempuan, menjadi Syahpantat.

Zaman Kesultanan Melayu Melaka dulu, ada Sultan, Bendahara, Laksamana, Temenggong, Syahbandar dan Syahpantat. Bendahara - tolong hal-hal admin. Laksamana - ketua tentera laut. Temenggong, jadi chief of police dan keselamatan dalam negeri. Syahbandar, jaga pelabuhan. Syahpantat - jaga pantat.

Anyway, aku tengok bebudak yang beli buku-buku tu happy gila. Aku pun insaf. Dah lama aku tak rasa seronok membeli, membaca atau menulis buku. Aku sibuk dengan kerja korporat aku, sampai aku abaikan penulisan aku. Aku dah tak menulis. Tulis pun, pasal aku nak duit. Aku dah lupa keseronokan medium fiksyen.

Dulu, aku kira-kira, aku pernah menulis dalam 500,000 patah perkataan setahun, untuk diterbitkan kat semua tempat. Jap, aku kira.

Secara purata, aku tulis tiga-empat artikel untuk The Malay Mail sehari. Satu artikel, antara 800-2000 patah perkataan. Tiap-tiap malam, aku tulis satu entry untuk blog. Aku tulis novel yang orang komisyen, 50,000 patah perkataan dalam masa 6 bulan. Aku tulis filem, skrip TV, press release, etc.

Jap ya. Kalau aku letak dalam 4,000 patah perkataan sehari, sebulan katalah 20 hari, adalah 80,000 patah perkataan sebulan. 960,000 patah perkataan setahun.

Betul ke ni? Ah, nanti takde orang percaya pulak.

Dulu, aku rasa, aku pernah menulis dalam 500,000 patah perkataan setahun, untuk diterbitkan kat semua tempat.

Sekarang tak lagi. Mungkin aku dah tua.

Tapi budak-budak muda ni semua teruja je. Semua dengan semangat yang tulus. Yang suci. Aku lupa pasal tu semua.

Takdepun yang nak eksyen berangan nak jual kat omputih, kat negara omputih, walaupun ada antara mereka yang telah atau akan diterbitkan di Eropah, di US. Mereka menulis, menjual buku, aku harap, bukan untuk nama mereka diagungkan, walaupun itu okay jugak.

Memang lain, antara mereka yang bercakap nak buat sesuatu dengan mereka yang mengambil tindakan proaktif dan buat sesuatu. Haha. Aku pakai 'proaktif' dalam ayat.

Satu cerita aku yang aku sendiri suka, walaupun kedengaran seperti melancap, telah terbit dalam Readings from Readings 2. Sila abaikan apa orang kata. Cerpen aku kat situ ternyata hebat. Kalau kau jenis yang tak iktiraf kehebatan keluaran anak tempatan, aku boleh bagitau kau yang cerpen itu ditawarkan untuk dijadikan komik oleh pelukis komik antarabangsa yang karyanya hanya terbit di negara Amerika yang diagung-agungkan orang Asia yang punya kendiri lemah.

Aku punyalah yakin dengan kehebatan cerpen aku tu, aku akan kembangkan jadi novel yang bakal menang anugerah Nobel untuk Sastera. Aku nak menang bukan pasal aku nak sangat diagungkan, aku cuma nak kerek kat beruk-beruk kat sini yang rata-rata taknak dengar cakap dan nasihat aku.

Cerpen aku berikutnya, akan keluar dalam satu antologi yang hebat. Hebat pasal cerpen aku ada dalam antologi tu. Tajuk cerpen aku The Unbeliever.

Terimalah cerpen aku sementara aku siapkan beberapa novel tahun ni. Aku nak letak senyuman di muka ramai gadis, tanpa menggunakan konek aku sentiasa, sebab aku terlampau sibuk untuk berjimak dengan semua.

Hari ni, aku siapkan beberapa perkara berbangkit. Aku dapat rasakan stamina menulis aku kembali. AKu dah mula dipenuhi cerita-cerita dan babak-babak yang bakal ditulis.

Syaitan Pekerjaan bakal bertukar menjadi Syaitan Perniagaan, lantas juga mendokong dwi-peranan sebagai Syaitan Penulisan.

Masters and Apprentices, Gods and Worshippers

This year, I celebrate 10 years of my career. Most of this was spent in the entertainment industry.

In my brief time in the industry, I can say that Malaysians are big on religion. I say this from the viewpoint that we treat everything as a religion.

We have this tendency to worship or follow people. We  put people on pedestals, and then we worship them. It is part of our culture. We find leaders and we latch on to them, wishing for other people to make decisions for us.

The completely unfair Malay stereotype of being lazy - as with any stereotype for any race - is grossly inaccurate. I believe though, that there is a culture here, in Malaysia, shared by all the races, of placing the burden of decision on one person or party and then blame that person or party.

I have met many people in places of power who simply refuse to make decisions because doing so would mean they will have to take responsibility for their actions.

I have seen people do this by delaying commitment to things,  tai-chi-ing stuff to other people, and I have listened to them all wail about how pitiful they are.

This is true ultimate laziness - an unwillingness to take responsibility for your life, your situation and your actions.

Instead, we became a subservient people who look up to superheroes and Emperors and God-suppositories  - I'm sorry, did I write God-suppositories? I meant God-representatives - as well as celebrities to represent us and do our dirty work for us.

I have decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I'll live as I believe.  Erm...

Anyway, I came to the conclusion around three years ago, to take my life into my own hands. Not 'take my life with my own hands', which is suicide, but to grab my balls and live. Or something.

I follow no one, I worship no human. I give thanks to those who helped me immensely along the way. Truly, without the help of other people, I would not survive to this day. However, my nature is to seek freedom from any and all things. I have my own vision, drive and goals for a future I will live in, and the only way for me to ensure it happens as I want it, is to take full responsibility for my actions and my actions alone.

I have no master. I'm a ronin, a masterless samurai.

I am also not responsible for other people. Girls who come to me asking 'to be taken care of' would only find that I can offer my dick and some money, and that is all. I refuse to subscribe to a culture of irresponsibility. And this is in an age where the most powerful person in Europe is a German woman - I am of course talking about Heidi Klum. She's German, right? It is a time when women are the majority in the US Government's House of Something or Congress, is it? While Hillary Clinton is set for a historic 2016 presidential campaign, women are now part of the US combat troops and not just Demi Moore.

I find it ridiculous and offensive that women would sully thousands of years of fight for equality by asking to be raped so they would not have to bear the sin of sex. But who cares? Not my problem.

I can feel the power moving within me once more, and the shift that made this possible is simply a decision to take matters into my own hands. I will become my own master, and learn from myself. I am, after all, the greatest mind of the 21st Century.